#don’t comment on the car i traced that thing it was killing me otherwise

[cultofthorns]

in the middle of nowhere, blood in my hair

[lipstickstainz]

just a few days - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: There’s no denying that Spencer and you hate each other. What happens, when you are forced to spend a few days together?  Warnings: enemies to lovers, language, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), typical criminal minds stuff Word Count: 4.5k A/N: hello friends. this is my first one shot and I hope you like it. gif not mine.  

„I didn’t think you could be any more of a shithead, but you just proved me wrong.“

Many people believe in love at first sight. The heart starts racing, the knees go weak and you feel dizzy. You want to get to know the other person at all costs. Which is total bullshit, of course. You can't fall in love with someone at first sight. Interest, yes, but that's not love.

With Spencer and you it was different. The first time you met, you were breathless. Your muscles tensed to the breaking point, the blood pulsed in your ears, and your stomach turned. Only, in your case, it definitely wasn't love.

„I saw a trash bag on the side of the road today. Reminded me of you“, you shot back and Spencer rolled his eyes.

Hate at first sight really did exist, and Spencer and you were the prime example.

There was always a stupid comment, a scathing sideways glance, or catty laughter. Neither of you took it personally - why would you? You weren't interested in each other's opinions - and it didn't interfere with your work, which is why Hotch didn't say anything about it. It annoyed him, but he had also noticed that the quality of your work was higher when you were at each other's throats than when you worked separately.

You couldn't even remember why you had been so hostile to each other from the beginning. It was mutual antipathy, but no one knew why. You didn't know each other from anywhere else, had never met anywhere. Actually, you were someone who gave people a chance first to get to know them reasonably, but with Spencer it only took one look before you were sure you definitely didn't like him. Was it his aura? His charisma? His constant need to be smarter than everyone else?

At first, the two of you had been holding back. You had been professional with each other, staying out of each other's way as much as possible and not exchanging more words than necessary. Everything had been fine until one day something slipped out of Spencer's mouth. The team had been sitting in the conference room discussing the latest case. You had said something about the murder weapon when Spencer had rolled his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you had asked him, annoyed. Spencer sat up straight in his chair and grabbed the crime scene photo.

"I've never heard anything so stupid," he said, looking at you with amusement.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop it," Hotch intervened. "We don't have time for bitching. JJ, inform the department we're on our way. Wheels up in thirty."

From that moment on, there was no turning back. You tried to belittle each other, but Hotch had forbidden you to relate it to work. Teasing and mean statements were allowed, but you were not allowed to get in the way of your work. And the most important thing: no arguing in front of outsiders. The team was used to it, but if others got wind of it, it would undermine your authority. So you had to pull yourselves together at times. Which was no problem.

Once inside the police department, Hotch divided the team. "Y/L/N, Reid, you'll go to the crime scene and examine the house for any abnormalities that might indicate motive," he said, and you looked at each other with disgust in your eyes. Hotch cleared his throat and gave you a look that said, "Get your act together or I'll send you home."

On the way to the scene, the radio was playing and you hummed the tune contentedly. You almost forgot who you were in the car with if Spencer hadn't suddenly turned off the radio. You made an annoyed noise.

"I wanted to hear that."

"I know," Spencer grinned, glancing at you briefly before looking out the window again. "And that's why I turned it off."

Sometimes you could strangle him.

The house was pretty run down from the outside. Spencer and you looked at each other. "If I had to hide your body somewhere, it would be right here," you grinned, walking toward the front door.

"I won't give you the satisfaction of killing me," he said, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. "My death should have meaning. I'm not going to let someone like you kill me over that."

The interior of the house was in complete contrast to the exterior. Every room was cleaned and tidy, there was not a speck of dust anywhere, and the way magazines, pictures, and other decorations had been laid down indicated -.

"OCD," Spencer noted. "Look, Y/N. The magazines all have the same number of pages, the picture frames on the windowsill are all the same distance apart, and -" , he opened a cabinet in the kitchen, "the handles on the cups all point in the same direction."

"So the person has damage like yours," you said, surveying the pictures in the hallway. Luckily there were only two of you, or you would have had to stifle the comment.

"Ha. Ha. I don't have OCD."

"You still have some damage. Forensics said traces of bleach were found throughout the house," you added to his insight, walking down the hall. "The unsub cleaned and left everything like this."

"And how would you know that?" asked Spencer, who had followed you. In the ceiling in the hallway was the hatch that led you to the attic.

"The pictures in the hallway are not of the victim. They're printed photos of people from the Internet. There is no connection." You climbed the ladder and what awaited you there did not surprise you.  The attic was filled with junk. It seemed like everything had just been shoved in. But again, there was not a woolly mouse to be seen.

"Apparently, the unsub places a lot of importance on maintaining the appearance of orderly, clean living."

You nodded at him and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. "Garcia, please search for wealthy families where children have been hospitalized with broken bones, hematomas or other injuries," you said, and Spencer snatched the phone from your hand. Annoyed, you looked at him.

"Equate that to sports injuries again, please. Thank you," he asked her before hanging up and tossing you the phone.

"Sports injuries?" you asked him, and he nodded.

"No parents would take their child to the hospital with injuries like that without an explanation. Sports injury is a good way to disguise something like that," he explained and you left the loft. When you got back into the car, you looked at him.

"If you snatch that phone out of my hand again, you'll be the next one with a slit throat," you smiled sweetly at him.

Spencer laughed out loud. "You grow a few more inches first, then maybe you can get to my throat."

Back at the precinct, the team profiled him and shared it with detectives. The plan was to lure him out of hiding and hope he would say or do something so you could arrest him.

"Bailey is targeting young couples in their twenties and thirties who are still in the early stages of their lives. They all moved in together a few days before they died. They were all very messy, which showed not only in their apartment, but also in their style of dress," Rossi explained.

"That's why two of our team will go undercover to draw him out," Hotch continued, giving Spencer and you a meaningful look. You knew what that meant. And you weren't in the mood for that. "Agent Y/L/N and Doctor Reid will be moving into a house on the outskirts of town, in the exact area where the last victim was found. Since he likes to return to the scene of his crime, he'll take notice."

"And then what do we do?" the sheriff asked, writing diligently.

"He'll show up a few days later and then we can go get him," Emily brought the conversation to a close and the group broke up. Hotch motioned Spencer and you to come with him to an adjoining room.

"I blindsided you with the proposal, and for that I'm sorry," he said, looking from Spencer to you, "but I'm afraid we have no choice. Tomorrow morning you'll move into the house and then it's only a matter of time before he comes. Just a few days. And until then, please try not to kill each other."

Spencer and you had been sitting together all night, working out a plan. Not only did you have to pretend to be a happy couple in front of others, you had to pretend behind closed doors. And that certainly wasn't going to be easy.

"Spencer, I'm only going to ask you this once," you began. "Are you okay with me touching you? Otherwise, we'll have to figure something else out. You can't flinch when I reach for your hand or give you a kiss on the cheek, even if I don't want to do that myself."

"I can handle that," he grinned. "As long as you promise not to snuggle up to me in your sleep. Because then I'll have to vomit."

Hotch was pretty happy with your plan and wished you good luck. He didn't want to bug the house because you still needed privacy, but the whole team was on speed dial. Besides, the others would take turns watching you. You weren't afraid, but knowing the others were always there calmed you down a bit.

The next morning, Spencer and you drove to your house. It looked a lot like the last victim's house. One story and an attic, the front yard hadn't been tended in ages. Spencer parked the car in the driveway and got out first so he could open the door for you like a gentleman.

"Are you ready for our new life?" he smiled, pulling you into his arms before you headed toward the door. His perfume was so strong it clouded your mind.

"With you, I'm ready for anything," you returned, placing your lips on his cheek.

Living with Spencer was more pleasant than you had imagined. You spent most of your time together in silence, Spencer with a book and you with music or magazines. You didn't avoid each other either, but spent every second together. Spencer always helped you cook and you helped him do laundry. You even went shopping together. There were little spats in between, but otherwise you got along fine.

You also noticed some things about Spencer that had completely escaped your attention until now. For example, he always had several books lying next to him when he read one. Which made sense if he finished one of them within ten minutes. Also, he would always mouth off a little when he was talking about something that was bothering him. And when he was talking about something he liked, he spoke with an incredible passion that was contagious.

What surprised you the most was sleeping next to each other. Since you also had to pretend to be overjoyed at home, you had also planned to share a bed. It was the most sensible and the easiest. Spencer's presence even calmed you down when you woke up in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream, and his regular breathing in the evening helped you fall asleep.

On the fourth night, a nightmare jolted you from sleep. You didn't remember what exactly you had dreamed, but you knew that you wouldn't fall asleep again so quickly. As quietly as you could, you got out of bed, not wanting to wake Spencer, and went to the kitchen. You flipped on the light over the stove, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. After a big gulp, you felt better, but still worried. Tired, you leaned against the counter and rubbed your hand over your face.

"Are you alright?" asked Spencer, entering the kitchen. He was wearing a loose T-shirt and boxers. Something you hadn't noticed before.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry," you said honestly, putting the glass in the sink. Spencer just smiled, "I had a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, standing next to you, you shook your head. "Okay." He was about to head back toward the bedroom, but stopped in the doorway. Spencer looked at you and you smiled weakly. He approached you again and reached for your hand. Carefully he pulled you to him and put his free hand on your lower back to press you closer to him. You laid your head against his chest and could hear his heartbeat. Then Spencer slowly rocked back and forth.

No one said a word as you danced with each other in the kitchen in the middle of the night. You enjoyed each other's presence and warmth. Spencer put a finger under your chin and made you look at him. There was no hate or dislike in his eyes. There was a twinkle in them that confused you greatly. Gently, he placed his lips on your forehead before pulling away.

"Let's go back to sleep," he smiled, pulling you by the hand back into the bedroom. In bed, he reached his arms out to you so you could lay your head on his chest. There it was again, his heartbeat. But this time it was faster, steady, but faster. Spencer reached for your hand again and intertwined your fingers.  "Sleep well, Y/N," he was still whispering, but you were barely aware of it. You had never fallen asleep so quickly.

The next day, the two of you went for a walk in the evening. Spencer's hand in yours no longer felt strange, but very familiar. The whole relationship between you had changed fundamentally. There was no more bitching, no more evil glances, no more spiteful laughter. You wondered if it would stay that way when you left the house, or if you would go back to your old ways. Secretly, you hoped that you would remain friends when all this was over. Even though you had only been here a short time, you had actually grown fond of Spencer. You just hoped he felt the same way about you.

"Y/N," Spencer whispered when you reached your street.

"Huh?" You looked up at him and he smiled lovingly at you. You would never get enough of that look.

"Please look at me when I tell you this now. There's a man walking across the street, right at our level, with his hood pulled over his head," he continued to whisper and I tried not to let on. "He's been following us for two blocks. I think it's him."

I nodded. "We need to show him that we are to be his next victims," you stated. When you arrived at your house, Spencer pulled you even closer. You knew what was coming. You didn't resist, and not because it was part of your plan, but because you were waiting for it.

Spencer put his hands to your cheeks and leaned down to put his lips on yours. Your heart started racing, your knees went weak, and you felt dizzy. If Spencer hadn't been holding you, you would have slipped through his fingers. His lips were soft and warm and when you kissed him back, a grumble sounded from his chest. One of his hands moved to your butt, pressing your hips against his as he slid his tongue into your mouth. You felt hot and warm shivers ran down your spine. You tried not to think about the fact that you could feel his erection against your belly, but failed miserably.

With his other hand, Spencer reached for the key and opened the door without breaking away from you, then pushed you into the house where he could have pulled away from you, but he didn't. His kisses grew hungrier and greedier, his hands reaching under your butt so he could lift you up. Your legs knotted behind him. He carried you toward the bedroom and pressed you against the wall. You rubbed your hips against his and he moaned into your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, sliding a hand under your shirt. His fingers danced over your bare skin and his touch burned into your skin. You wished this moment would never end.

"Cameron Bailey, put the knife down and raise your hands," Derek called out. Spencer and you jumped apart, completely confused and gasping for air, and saw the team standing in your bedroom. Derek took Bailey into custody and led him away. How had you not noticed that he had come into the house?

"Are you all right?" asked Emily, but you could only nod. What would have happened if Bailey hadn't broken in? How far would Spencer and you have gone?

It wasn't long before the team was back on the plane. Spencer sat alone at one end of the plane and you at the other. You hadn't had time to talk about what had happened, because after Bailey was arrested, you had packed your things and gone to the airport with the others. But what did you want to talk about? About the kiss? About the touch? About your friendship, if you could call it that? Never in your life had you been so uncertain as at that moment.

Spencer probably didn't want anything more to do with you, and you tried to tell yourself that you were okay with that. You tried to adjust to things going back to the way they were. It scared you that deep down you cared. You had hated Spencer for years and just a few days with him had completely turned your feelings upside down. And that bothered you the most.

"I could use a beer right now," Derek said when you arrived at Quantico. "Anyone coming?"

"I'm going home," you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "My shower is waiting for me and my bed is calling for me too."

"Same here," Spencer gave and together you walked to the elevator while the others talked about where to go to celebrate. The silence between Spencer and you was unbearable, both outside the elevator and inside. You wanted to say something, but couldn't manage more than a guarded smile, which he kindly returned. At least no more bitching.

"Good night, Y/N," he said goodbye and left without turning around once more. You took a deep breath and headed home as well.

Once home, you dropped your bag on the floor and tried to wash off Spencer's touch in the shower. You brushed your teeth to scrub his taste from your tongue, but nothing could chase away the thoughts that haunted your mind. You put on fresh panties and an oversized shirt, which ended just below your butt. You were on your way to the couch when there was a knock on your door.

Without hesitation you opened the door and your heart stopped. Spencer stood in front of you, hands buried in his pockets and a small smile on his lips. "Hi."

"Hey," you said softly, and you didn't realize until then that you were standing in front of him half-naked. Embarrassed, you pulled the hem of your shirt down further. He glanced briefly at your hands and blushed before looking you in the eye again.

"I know this probably sounds stupid, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep alone tonight. I've gotten used to sleeping next to you and after today, I don't think either of us should spend the night alone," he babbled, entering your apartment without prompting. You shut the door behind him. "Besides, there's something I wanted to do." Carefully he put his bag on the kitchen counter and came towards you with long steps.

It was not five seconds before he pressed his mouth on yours and a sigh came out of your mouth. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, so greedily they moved over your body, while yours got caught in his hair. When his fingers grazed your bare skin on your legs, you slumped against him.

"I didn't want to let you go home alone," he whispered between kisses, looking deep into your eyes. "I didn't want to sit so far away from you on the plane either, and when I got home, all I wanted was to be with you." His tongue dominated yours as his hands slid under your shirt. Your skin burned like fire where he touched you. "Tell me to stop, Y/N. Please tell me to stop and leave. Because if you don't do it now, I'll stay forever."

You went to kiss him, but he broke away from you and grabbed your chin with one hand, making you look at him. He was expecting a response. "Stay, Spencer. Stay forever and I'm yours."

That's all the confirmation he needed. His hands were on your hips again, but moved further down to briefly stroke your ass before leaning down and grabbing the back of your thighs. Without effort, he lifted you up and his lips assaulted your neck, and as he sucked on the soft spot where your jaw met your neck, all you could do was whimper his name.

Spencer carried you into your bedroom with ease, his mouth never leaving your heated skin. The warmth in your body grew with each kiss as he gently laid you on the bed.  You pushed yourself to the head of the bed, allowing your head to rest on the soft pillow as Spencers hovered over you to kiss your neck.

His lips moved to your collarbone, his hands slid under your shirt and you arched up to meet him so he could easily pull it off. Hastily you reached for his shirt and undid the buttons to rip it from his torso. His weight was heavy on you and his hot skin almost burned you with every further touch. Without a word, you unbuttoned his pants and he kicked them off his long legs. For a brief moment you looked at each other. In that look were all the apologies you wanted to say, but that was no longer important. What was important was the man in front of you, the man you had fallen head over heels in love with in just a few days.

You put your hands on Spencer's back and felt the muscles dancing under your fingers. You took a quick glance at his black boxer briefs, which already seemed a little too tight for him.

"God, you're beautiful," he moaned as he glanced down your body. His hands were on your breasts and he rolled your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Again, you arched up to meet him.

"Spencer," you moaned, "no teasing. Please," you begged, closing your eyes to feel his touch more intensely. When you opened your eyes again, you could see a crooked grin on his face. He was enjoying your begging. Before you could say anything, he grabbed your panties and you could hear him ripping them. Cool air met your hot core and Spencer's boxers landed on the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You had to swallow. He was long and surprisingly thick and you wondered if he would fit. Spencer looked at you silently with raised eyebrows.

"I'm on the pill," you explained, grabbing his shaft with your hand and running your thumb over the tip to smear the pre-cum, making him moan with pleasure. You pumped him two times before Spencer grabbed your wrist.

"I won't last long if you keep this up, love," he rasped, guiding his pulsing erection to your wet entrance. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him so close to you that there wasn't an inch between you. He looked at you one more time, searching for something in your face, but you just smiled at him, drunk with love. And then he glided home.

His cock was stretching you like no man before did and it almost hurt, but with the pain came the pleasure. Spencer rested his forehead on yours and his breath was hot on your skin. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into his gentle touch.

"Move, please, Spence," you purred, and that was all he needed. He withdrew almost completely from you before thrusting into you again. He quickly found a steady pace and his length stroked all the right places. The heat between your thighs spiraled in your belly and you dug your nails into Spencer's back.

"Spencer, fuck," you breathed and he grinned before pressing his lips to your throat and gently biting your collarbone. Before you knew it, he was sliding his hand between your bodies and rubbing furiously over your clit and it was all getting too much for you.

Your nails raked across his skin and certainly left a few marks on as you climaxed and your vision went black.You spasmed around his cock and felt it twitch inside you.  Spencer moaned a mixture of swear words and your name as he coated your walls with his cum, his fingers digging into your hips and probably bruising them.

He placed his lips on yours one last time before carefully pulling out of you and disappearing into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. "Careful, love," he says softly, running it along between your legs to wipe your mingled cum. When he touched your sensitive clit, you flinched involuntarily. He returned the washcloth to the bathroom before lying back down with you. He pulled you to him and kissed your forehead. "Can I tell you something?" he breathed, you looked up at him quite exhausted.

"Of course."

He smiled lovingly. "I've fallen head over heels in love with you in the last few days," he confessed and your heart stopped. "The moment you laid your head on my chest in bed. You turned my whole world upside down and I can't imagine spending a single day without you anymore."

"You don't have to," you replied, putting your hand to the back of his head so you could pull him down to you. Gently you placed your lips on his and you felt his cock twitch against your belly. That's how strong your effect on him was. "I love you, Spencer."

In one fluid motion, he rolled onto you and pressed his mouth onto yours. This kiss was like the one in the house, angry, hungry and greedy. His hand slid between your legs and his fingers gently circled your clit. Your legs twitched and he pushed further down so he was eye level with your cunt. Gently he slid two fingers inside you and you moaned loudly. "I love you, Y/N. Don’t you dare forget it, when I make you scream and cum around my tounge.“ He licked long stripe from your entrance to your clit and gently sucking on it. Your body shook under his tounge and touch, as he slipped to fingers into your dripping cunt again. „Are you ready for round two?"

[thran-duils]

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.2)

Title: Lost in Zero Gravity (Part Two) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,072 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspo for this fic

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“You must have made a really good first impression,” Tatiana commented, blowing out a ring of smoke. Her charcoal lined eyes creased with her pleased smile.

You shrugged, “I was just working.”

“Don’t try to be modest now. It’s not becoming on you,” she laughed in response.

She had called you into her office to tell you that you had been specifically requested for an assignment. It seemed Tony and Steve’s mob were going to be taking a vacation and they wanted you available. You were not one to turn down a paid vacation, especially if they were going to be there. As dangerous as they were, they had been a good fuck and Tony had made sure to get you off. That was far more than probably eighty percent of the people you had been with since you started working the service.

You hated the smell of the cigarette smoke and it was always the hovering stench in her office. She was going to kill herself far too young and maybe shave a few years off your life in return for however she made you stand in here. You adored her, there was no doubt about that. But you wished she would kick the habit.

“Where are they going?” you asked, feigning that you were contemplating about refusing the assignment.

“Riviera Maya.” You narrowed your eyes and she said, “It’s in Mexico.”

An inclusive resort no doubt. It could be fun. Maybe you could ask someone to travel with you so you would not be completely alone when they were not wanting to bed you. Or maybe not… some time alone might do you well.

Tatiana added, “Wives are going to be there though.”

“So, why am I gonna be there?” you asked honestly.

Tatiana snorted, “Oh, stellina.” She took another deep inhale exhaling as she said, “There are so many things there to keep the spouses occupied. They’re rarely together except for dinner. It’s just for appearances.”

Rich people’s lives sounded exhausting.

“You just need to be out in the open, keeping yourself available for them whenever they have an opportunity to slip away and have some fun with you. Otherwise, just keep yourself occupied with the beach and nice drinks. I know you hate suntanning but there are shops to poke around in. I know you like shopping.”

“That I do.”

“Maybe they’ll give you extra.”

“I don’t want to go around trying to get greedy.”

Tatiana smirked at that. “That’s my girl. I trained you well.”

<><><>

Pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, you hopped up onto one of the barstools on the bar you had just walked by and circled back to. You had yet to see either Tony or Steve and you had been here since yesterday. The place was relaxing and the room was great. You had basically sunk into the bed, having one of the best nights of sleep you had had in a long while without any noise from Elisha in her room along your wall back home. Leaning over the counter, you asked for a strawberry lemonade.

“Strawberry lemonade? It’s a party, dollface.”

You recognized that voice and you straightened back up, turning your head to look in his direction.

Steve was standing there, leaning on the counter. He was a sight for sore eyes. He was only in swim trunks, aviator glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. That did not hide the fact you knew his eyes were running unabashedly over your body. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him, thinking of how he handled you last time.

“I bought this specifically for this vacation,” you said, hopping down from the stool and turning around for him to let him see the whole suit. When you turned back around, he was grinning. “It looks good right?”

He nodded, “You look damn sexy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“My wife is here,” Steve said, and you frowned instantly at this immediate change in conversation. Was he trying to kill the mood so quickly? He said, “I know. She’s got her little masseuse guy here to keep her entertained, so I should be able to have my own fun. But I’m trying to be good.”

Picking up on his hint, you sauntered towards him. Your hand came up, resting on his chest. “Why do you have to be good if she isn’t being good?”

“I had to hold it in until she ran off,” he told you.

You pulled his sunglasses down to see his eyes, keeping them on the bridge of his nose. You smiled when you were able to actually meet his gaze.

“Well, when do you get to not be good?”

“Right now,” he said and you smiled in response. “It’s why I came and found you. I saw you yesterday. Wandering around. Took everything in me to not come up to you. Looked like you found yourself a nice little boyfriend though?”

“He was trying really hard but no… no dice for that guy,” you told him.

You pushed his glasses back up and your arms wrapped around his neck. He grinned back at you, his fingers tracing along your exposed back.

“I’m assuming you’re liking what you’re seeing?”

“Very much,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the hem of your suit.

You nuzzled your nose to his. “Hmm. So we know where this is going?”

<><><>

You stood in front of the mirror, completely bare. Steve had brought you back to their villa. Tony’s wife was gone, off to a spa treatment. The room had a wide door open to the patio overlooking the ocean. There was a hot tub and pool on the patio and although you wanted to indulge, you refrained. You got undressed for them instead, waiting for them to get antsy enough to take charge. It did not take long as you predicted.

Tony came up from behind you, nude as well. His hands ran across your breasts, cupping.

“Don’t you look marvelous…” he murmured, his fingers tweaking at your erect nipples. You bucked ever so slightly, and he smirked. His nose came to nuzzle into the nape of your neck. “I knew I chose right… a perfect gem.”

“You still seem to like what you’re seeing?”

He chuckled, one hand snaking down to toy with the top of your sex.

“You’re gonna look even better underneath that mirror.”

You turned in his arms, your forehead pressing against his. “A man that likes to review his work. I don’t know if I should be worried.”

“I didn’t get to where I am by being a half ass.”

Steve was at your other side and he enveloped you to him. To both of them, you asked, “Any critiques?”

“Loaded question,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, the biggest is you haven’t sunk one of your holes on either of us. I mean, it’s been a whole five minutes. What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, I was enjoying the company.”

He kissed the tip of your nose lightly, “And I’m sorry for being so charismatic.”

“I’m assuming you can’t multitask then? Be charismatic and fuck me at the same time?”

A low growl left his mouth now, “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at fucking all,” he told you pulling you over to the bed.

Steve was looking upwards, and you knew he was taking in the sight of you hovering over him as you sunk onto his length in the ceiling mirror. His eyes were swimming with arousal and you hoped to always be the cause for that.

<><><>

“Y/N, you got a gift,” Wendy said, pointing at the table as you walked into the brothel’s kitchen. You had come in to get a drink but smiled seeing the bouquet and gift.

“Really?” you asked, letting your backpack fall from your shoulder and along with your carry-on drop to the ground. You had just gotten back from Mexico; that was quick if it was from who you thought it was. Upon seeing the flowers, you knew your assumption had been correct. They had asked you what your favorite flowers were and even though that was extremely obvious why they were asking, you had told them all the same.

The bouquet was large and there was a nice heart balloon in the center. You smiled, leaning in and smelling the flowers deeply.

“Where’d you get those from?” Elisha asked, coming into the kitchen. You shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, giving a little laugh, “I know exactly where those came from.”

“There’s also this,” you said picking up the gift bag from beside it, waving it at her.

“That’s dangerous,” Elisha commented, grabbing the bloody mary that Wendy had made her. They must have had a rough night.

You shrugged again, opening the bag. Your lips curled into a smile as you pulled out a bright blue teddy. “Cute,” you giggled. Elisha and Wendy shook their heads, taking a drink. You held it up against your body and asked, “Think they want me to wear it for next time?”

“I don’t think they bought it for shits and giggles,” Wendy snorted. “How was the trip?”

“It was nice.”

“Good to hear it. You should relish in this.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, putting the teddy back into the bag. You thought of the extra money that Steve had tucked into your bag, remembering that you should tuck that away. It was smarter to not spend all the money that was thrown at you. That is what fools did; you needed to think ahead.

<><><>

The dress was loose and casual, perfect for the saloon they had asked you to meet them at. They had sent a car for you and met you at the curbside. When you got out, you looked around, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of them dressed in nice, pressed jackets. You were going into a dive bar, what were they doing?

Tony took your arm, Steve trailing behind. “Hmm, a sun pattern,” Tony commented, his fingers pulling at the fabric of your dress.

You gripped his arm, smiling. “I like to be a shining beacon in people’s lives.”

Tony chuckled in response, his grip tightening on your waist. The bouncer did not ask for your IDs; they must know them. It was dimly lit, packed. There were dancers on the stage and your eyes were drawn to their movements. The woman dancing had curves to die for.

“Where we going?” you asked as they led you through the bar. Your eyes ran around the tables the further you went in. Did they have a reservation?

“For the real party, sweetheart,” Tony told you, his lips brushing your ear. You shivered at the touch.

It was dark back here and you tensed. Tony felt it, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got you.”

Two men were standing in front of a door and they opened it when they saw the three of you approaching. There was a table with a group of other men, looking like they were waiting for the three of you. There were a handful of other women sitting around the perimeter of the room behind the players. They made brief eye contact with you, sizing you up quickly before averting their eyes again.

“Took you fucking long enough,” one of them drawled at Tony and Steve.

“Sorry, we were waiting for our lucky dame,” Tony returned.

Tony kissed your hand as you sat, before he turned away and sat in his chair. Steve’s hand grazed you affectionately, before he sat down as well.

You sat quietly, watching them play. It was poker, that much you knew. It was intense, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. They were taking this seriously and you surmised they were gambling a bunch of money.

Steve was staring across the table at the first man who had spoken to them when they walked in, his eyes narrowed. The other man was not flinching but something must have been a tell for Steve because he pushed chips forward.

“Well, senator… I’m gonna raise you,” Steve commented.

Your heart stopped a bit, hearing him call him that. Your eyes narrowed at the man across the table. You did not pay attention to politics but the way the man’s face scrunched at Steve’s tone… you knew he had to be one. A senator. What had you let them drag you into?

The man chewed on his lip before throwing his cards down on the table without showing what they were.

Steve’s mouth broke into a wide grin and he held out his hands.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” the man snarled before getting up from the table. He buttoned his suit jacket, leaving the room without a second glance.

“Sore loser,” Steve commented, much to the amusement of the other men at the table to your surprise. You thought they would be more angry about losing the money they had but maybe the man had been a common enemy.

They gathered up the chips, tossing them into a bag. Tony’s hand snaked around your waist.

“Wanna spend this?” Tony asked, grinning broadly, holding the bag up to you as he guided you towards the door. You giggled and he kissed your cheek. “Steve’s treated us. But especially you, baby.”

<><><>

Pulling your dress back on over your head, you straightened it, making sure it was covering your ass. It was short and you did not need to be flashing anyone on the sidewalk.

“You sure you don’t want me to order you a cab…?” the man asked from behind you, taking a long drag on his joint. He was still lying in bed, watching you get dressed.

Confidently, you turned around, fluffing your hair. You shook your head, “It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he said, shooting you a smile.

“I try to be,” you said winking at him, grabbing your purse.

You left his place quickly, heading back to the brothel. It was not a lie, it was not far.

The distance did not matter though when it came to what was waiting for you outside.

A hand closed around your arm, yanking you into an alley. You screamed but another hand slapped across your mouth as you were slammed up against the wall. Your heart was pounding, your eyes wide in fear staring at your assailant.

Your fear melted away to a mixture of anger and disgust. You would recognize those hazel eyes anywhere. You had stared into them far too many times as he towered over you, beating you into submission. You had run away from them far too many times, locking yourself in the bedroom until he got tired of trying to beat the door down.

Garnering strength from a place you did not know existed, you shoved him away, much to his surprise. He did not expect you to fight back, and he stumbled back.

“Have you been fucking following me?” you demanded, your chest heaving.

“Just interested to see what you’ve been doing since you ran off. Looks like you are visiting a bunch of men,” Jared sneered at you, getting back on his game and closing the space between you. Your fists clenched by your sides and he noticed, smirking. “You gonna hit me?”

“No,” you spat.

“So, what’s got you leaving someone’s apartment this time of night, baby?”

“That is none of your business.”

He shoved you back into the wall and you winced against the cement scratching at your skin. You swallowed it though, clenching your jaw, glaring at him. You were acting far braver than you felt. Jared always had the power to make you feel small and weak and it seemed just his presence had that same power. You felt just as helpless as you did a year and a half ago. He was frightening; you knew what violence he could unleash.

“What’s this?” Jared asked, yanking at your purse.

“Nothing, it’s my purse!” you said, your hands closing around it to try to yank it back from him.

“Looks pretty expensive, Y/N… Marc Jacobs? What have you been up to?”

He gave another hard yank, and the chain broke and you hissed against the pressure against your shoulder as it snapped away from you. You reached for it and he shoved you back again, harder this time and you let out a pained noise. Your eyes searched the buildings that surrounded you, hoping someone would be looking out the windows and be able to come to help you. It looked like no such luck.

He yanked out the hundreds the man you had just left had given you.

His eyes were dark, glowering at you. “Where’d you get this?”

“From work!”

His backhand was swift, knocking you off balance. But he was there to catch your falling momentum only to slam you up against the wall for the third time, his forearm pressed into your throat. You gasped, trying to breathe.

“You left me to spread your legs all over the city?”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaimed pitifully, trying to deny it. Your hands clawed at his arm and he only pressed in harder, making you gasp more desperately.

“I saw you go into that building with that man. Yes, I was following you! And you come back out with all this money? I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were a worthless slut.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and he growled, “You always did cry too soon for my liking.”

Your purse fell to the ground and his other hand reached up between your legs. You tried to fight him, and he socked you this time. Your head knocked against the wall and you saw stars.

Jared pushed away and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. You squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to gain back some sense of balance.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout from far off.

All you could see was Jared’s shoes coming in and out of your vision. You felt a sharp pain in your stomach making you lose all your breath before his shoes were gone. You blinked again before losing consciousness as you saw a new pair of shoes come into your line of sight.

~~~

Tags: coconutqueen21

[shurisneakers]

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible. 

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees. 

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were. 

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.  

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen. 

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it. 

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.  

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

Next part

[thepremedthatwrites]

hi so i've written this one shot where y/n was dating edmund and he takes her home for a study session and throughout the whole thing she and peter kept flirting, anyways she ended up staying the night in peter's room to be precise (i made it fluff). could you maybe write an alternate smut ending because peter is a naughty boi, i wrote this as if peter was 21 and she was 18 along side edmund, is this idea well written because i can't describe stuff sjdjskd

Our Dirty Little Secret

I have never felt so dirty after writing something lmao but I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy writing it.  I hope you like it! (also Edmund deserves the world so if you want to read some A+ Edmund imagines/smut I recommend checking out edmundpevensieisbaby on tumblr)

warning: smut below the cut

My fingers were interlocked with his as we walked down the street.  The unforgiving sun was beating down on us as we neared his house.  “This calculus exam is going to kill me,” I groaned.

“That’s why I’m here,” Edmund chuckled, squeezing my hand.  “I’ll teach you all that I know.”

“So we’re actually going to do work this time?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow and causing Edmund to laugh.

“I’ll try my hardest but that skirt you're wearing might make it hard for me to concentrate.”  I felt my face warm at his words.  The skirt I was wearing reached just the middle of my thigh, a bit shorter than I was used to but it was so hot out that I couldn’t help but wear as little clothing as possible.

“It is only Lucy at the house, right?  I don’t want to make a poor first impression with your other siblings.”  Ed and I had only been dating for a few months.  I didn’t want his family to already disapprove of me.

“Actually, Peter just got home from university.  He’s staying for the weekend.”

“You’re joking,” I groaned as we walked up to the front door.  The extra car in the driveway supported Edmund’s claim.  

“I’m home!” Edmund announced as we entered the house.  Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table, eating an apple while scrolling through her phone.  She glanced up, giving a smile and a wave before returning to her phone.  I heard the sound of footsteps approaching us from the hall to our right.  A tall man who seemed to be in his early twenties appeared.  I was taken aback by his attractiveness, his blond hair slightly messy as if he had just woken from a nap, his blue eyes still slightly clouded with sleep.  He ran his fingers through his hair as his eyes landed on me.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing home a guest,” the man said.

“Well I didn’t know I had to tell you,” Ed replied, releasing my hand to wrap his arm around my waist.  “Pete, this is my girlfriend (y/n).  (Y/n), this is my older brother Peter.”

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled, extending my hand for him to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Peter said, shaking my hand as his eyes traced my figure, lingering on my skirt for a moment before flickering back to my (e/c) eyes.  “Ed didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend.”

“We really only just started dating,” I said quickly, feeling my heart race as Peter’s eyes focused on me.  

“If you excuse us, (y/n) and I will be in my room studying,” Ed said as he started to guide me towards his bedroom.

“Are you guys actually going to be studying this time?” Lucy asked from the kitchen table causing me to start blushing.  While I had thought we had been quiet, Lucy’s comment suggested otherwise.  

“Haha very funny,” Edmund said, sticking his tongue out at his little sister.  

“Wow, very mature Ed,” she replied with, rolling her eyes and causing me to chuckle.

“Come on, stop your bickering.  I need you to help me pass this calc exam,” I said, pulling him towards his bedroom door.  I could feel Peter’s eyes watching me as I walked into Ed’s room.  I turned back towards Peter, my eyes catching his causing him to turn away as I closed the door.  My heart was still racing as the door replaced my vision of Peter.  No, this was wrong.  I was with Ed, not Peter.  But there was something about Peter that seemed to draw me towards him.

“You okay (y/n)?” Edmund asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, of course,” I lied, making my way to my boyfriend.  “Now, please for the love of God explain what an integral is,” I said as I pulled out my notebook from my backpack.

Ed and I had been studying for about an hour.  “Does that make sense?” Ed asked as he finished his explanation.

“I think so,” I said, slowly nodding my head.

“Good.  I think we should take a break,” he said while bringing his hand towards my thigh.

“What exactly were you thinking we should do during this break?” I questioned, my voice low as I started to lean in towards him.

“I have a few ideas,” he growled, his hand roughly squeezing my thigh causing me to gasp.  “And a few of them include taking off that pretty little skirt of yours.”  He closed the gap between us that I had already been slowly closing.  The kiss was rough, taking the breath out of me as his hands wandered my body.  Somewhere during the kiss, I moved so that I was straddling him.  I held his face in my hands as I parted my lips, allowing him entrance.  His hands squeezed my ass causing me to let out a small moan.  The sound of someone clearing their throat caused us to pull away quickly.  I looked up to see Peter in the frame of the now opened door.

“Dinner’s ready,” Peter stated through clenched teeth.  He seemed stiffer than before as he looked at the scene in front of him.  I slowly climbed off of Ed, my face now a light pink from a mixture of the make-out session and being caught.  I adjusted my skirt which caught the attention of Peter whose eyes flickered to it.  “Will you be joining us for dinner (y/n)?”

“Oh yes,” I replied quickly, hoping the new conversation would help ease the tension in the room.  Ed got up, walking to my side.

“She’s actually staying the night since I live much closer to school.  That way she can get to school early to study before her exam.”  Peter shifted his weight between his feet as he listened to his brother, occasionally glancing at me.  

“Alright,” he said before turning around and heading back to the kitchen.

“He isn’t mad, is he?” I asked quietly.

“No,” Ed shook his head.  “At least I don’t think so.  I’m not sure what his problem is.  Maybe he’s just stressed.”  He gave a shrug before grabbing my hand and leading me to the kitchen.

“Oh look!  The two lovebirds finally decided to grace us with their presence,” Lucy said as we walked into the kitchen.  Edmund’s parents chuckled at their daughter’s comment.

“You’re just on a streak today of making fun of me,” Edmund said, shaking his head.

“Isn’t that every day?” Peter questioned causing all of us to laugh.  Edmund sat down next to Lucy while I sat across from him next to Peter.

“How’s studying going?” Edmund’s father asked.

“It’s going good.  Edmund’s amazing at teaching math,” I said.  

“Well, it’s easy when the student is so amazing.”  I smiled at Edmund’s words.  His parents smiled as well while Lucy made fake gagging sounds.  This caused her parents to turn to her and ask her about her day.  I half-listened while shoveling food into my mouth, starving after a day of school which included no breaks for lunch.

“Hungry?” Peter questioned, chuckling at his own joke.

“Only a bit,” I replied with, cracking a smile.  “I haven’t eaten all day plus it doesn’t hurt that the food is absolutely delicious.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You cooked this?”  My eyes widened in surprise.  At first glance, you wouldn’t think of Peter as a cook.

“My specialty,” he said, a grin on his face.  

“(Y/n),” Edmund’s mother said causing me to turn to her.  “We set up the couch for you to sleep on but if it’s too uncomfortable, I’m sure Susan wouldn’t mind you borrowing her bedroom for the night.”

“The couch is fine,” I replied as everyone had started to clean up.  

“Great!  Edmund, would you clean up your girlfriend’s plate while I show her to the bathroom.”  Edmund nodded, grabbing my plate and walking towards the sink where Lucy was waiting.  I got up from my seat.  As I started to turn to follow Edmund’s mom, I couldn’t help but realize that my ass was level with Peter’s face who was still sitting next to my seat.  I straightened my skirt, trying to pull it down a bit lower to cover as much as possible so Peter didn’t see too much.  I could feel his eyes watch me as I walked away from my seat and towards the hall where the bathroom was.

I laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.  It was almost midnight now but I could barely sleep.  All I could think about was Peter.  “Snap out of it,” I mumbled to myself as I turned to my side.  I was with Edmund, not Peter.  But why did Peter make my heart flutter and my stomach do somersaults?  “This isn’t working,” I said, sitting upright.  I ran a hand through my (h/c) locks.  Maybe spending some time with Edmund would help me get my mind off of Peter. 

I slowly got off of the couch, tiptoeing my way towards Edmund’s door.  I paused as I heard what sounded like panting coming from another door.  “(Y/n),” I heard a voice gasp through the wooden door.  I inhaled sharply as I realized it was Peter’s voice.  I slowly opened the door to see Peter laying in bed, his hands wrapped around a very erect cock.  

“Peter?” I questioned, causing him to freeze.  He rushed to cover himself as he started to mumble something.  I felt my heart race as I closed the door behind me, the knot in my stomach becoming more intense with every step I took towards him.  “It’s okay,” I said softly as I crawled into his bed.  Peter let out something between a sigh and a growl as I felt his hands wander my body.

“Fuck (y/n),” he muttered as I allowed my hands to wander his body.  He was completely naked which allowed me to trace over his defined abs and warm skin without any barriers.  “You know, you look a lot more mature than eighteen.”

“Really,” I chuckled as my hands wrapped around his cock causing him to inhale deeply.  “You know, I was actually on my way to see your brother.  I couldn’t get my mind off of you, wondering what it would feel like to have your huge cock stretching out my tight little pussy.  I thought maybe Ed could take my mind off of it,”  I leaned in so that my mouth was right by his ear.  “But maybe acting out my fantasies would be the best way to get over them.”  I gently bit down on his earlobe causing him to let out a low moan.  I had started to slowly move my hand up and down his cock, watching with interest at how Peter reacted to my actions.

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back on his pillow as I quickened my pace.  He let out a low moan, bucking his hips.  After a few minutes, his hand grabbed my wrist, stopping my hand.  “If you want me to fuck you, you’ll have to stop jerking me off before I cum,” he said.  Although he didn’t say it in any particular way, his words turned me on even more as I rubbed my legs together, wanting any kind of friction.  Peter sensed this as he pinned me to the mattress, his face only inches from mine.

His lips crashed with mine, his tongue ripping open my mouth and exploring it while his hands worked on removing my clothes.  We separated for a moment to take off my shirt before our lips were back together.  I helped take off my shorts and underwear, our kiss being broken up into smaller kisses with gasps of air in between.  He pulled away leaving me both breathless and dizzy.  I watched as he lined himself with me before pushing in.  I let out a loud moan causing him to cover my mouth with his hand.  “We don’t want Edmund to walk in on us now do we,” he said, raising an eyebrow.  I shook my head no.  “That’s a good girl,” he said before slowly rolling his hips.  

My back arched in pleasure, my hands gripping the sheets as Peter quickened the pace.  The bedsprings groaned underneath us as Peter slammed into me over and over again.  He fell onto his forearms, panting into my ear as he quickened his pace even more.  I dug my heels into him, pushing him even deeper.  “You’re so fucking tight,” he said in a half moan.  His lips found my neck causing me to gasp.  Peter sucked and bit down along my neck causing my hands to rake down his bare back, the pleasure becoming too much.

“Peter,” I gasped as he bit down on my neck one last time, almost surely leaving a hickey.  If my mind hadn’t been clouded with lust, I would have chastised him for leaving a love mark on my body, something Edmund was sure to notice.  Instead, it caused me to let out a low moan as my orgasm rippled through me.  My eyes were forced closed as my head flew back my body pressed against Peter’s as I held onto him for dear life.  The pleasure became almost unbearable as Peter quickened the pace, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and desperate as he chased his own orgasm.  

He let out a moan as I felt his warm seed spill into me.  “(Y/n),” he moaned as he thrusted into me sporadically as his orgasm started to slow down.  He slowly got off of me, falling to my side before turning to face me.  He pulled me in for a kiss that was much more gentle than the ones we had shared during our moment of passion.  I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I was slowly lulled to sleep.  The one thing that I could think of as I was pulled into my dreams was that I had just fucked my boyfriend’s brother.

[onthepageoftears]

Hold Them Closer ~ Ch.10 [Jaskier x assassin!reader] || Witcher

A/N: hello all! I’ve been a bit busy with school, so im going to try my absolute best to stay on schedule with these chapters. there are only a couple chapters left (gasp) but I just thought id put a warning here that I might be a day late posting etc. also, this is pretty much a filler/goofy chapter, but still I hope yall enjoy!

Your kind words and reviews mean a lot to me, so please don’t afraid to leave a message/comment!

Summary: The past is not something you can truly escape from.

Warnings: mentions of killing/death/murder/blood, some fighting, slight gore, language, violence, memoriessss

Words: 2,112

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

The fire crackled gently in the cave, its embers floating up until they disappeared in the darkness. The four of you sat around the fire, Theodora aimlessly throwing in stick after stick to keep it going. She was quiet now that you were all sitting in the nighttime, and you wondered what was going through her head.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Jaskier’s low voice next to you. “I cannot be-lieve this kid just willingly came to a monster’s nest.”

You looked over at Theodora, making sure she couldn’t hear you. When she didn’t make any sort of comment, you leaned into Jaskier’s side to lowly whisper, “At least she’s safe.”

“Yeah, after she threw herself into danger.”

You raised your eyebrows, slight amusement crossing your features. Jaskier pouted at the fire in front of you, his brows furrowed in irritation. “Why are you so on edge? She’s just a kid.”

He turned to you with a sigh, “Exactly.”

It was then that you realized Jaskier was, in the simplest terms, worried. Obviously, you all were — having to go find a kid at a monster’s nest wasn’t something you wanted to do every day, much less not knowing what you would find when you got there. Though Theodora was pretty well trained, she was still young. Digging a grave was hard enough, but a small grave was, well, awful.

This worry wasn’t unfamiliar with Jaskier — you remembered how he acted with Lilla, the little girl you all saved from bandits not long ago. Theodora was completely different, of course; where Lilla practically latched onto you and Jaskier, Theodora made sure to stay several feet away — and brandish her sword while doing it. Perhaps that was why he worried so much: people who held a strong exterior often were much weaker inside.

You huffed, pulling one of your knives out and tracing the edge delicately with your finger, “Kids do stupid things. I’d’ve done the same.”

Within a millisecond, Jaskier’s attention shifted, his worry turning to curiosity. “Oh, do tell.”

You shifted uncomfortably under his strong gaze. “What is there to tell?”

Jaskier’s guffaw had now gained the attention of both Geralt and Theodora. You glared at him for making a big show, but still, you smirked. He placed himself purposefully on the ground just slightly in front of you, his eyes sparkling despite the darkness.

“You cannot tell me as a trained killer and adventurer, you have no stories of rebellious youth.”

“You’re an assassin?” Theodora’s emphasis on the word ‘assassin’ threw you off.

You blinked, shaking off the feeling while straightening your posture. Pointedly ignoring Theodora’s question, you spoke, “Okay. What kind of story would you like to hear?”

“Something wreaking of blood, sweat, and action.” Jaskier waved his hand in the air. “So…a bedtime story for young Theodora will do.”

“That’s Theo to you.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath in, ignoring the way Theo glared at Jaskier’s back while you searched your memories for a good story. You smiled when the perfect one came to mind. “I was around thirteen, I think. It was winter, so me and my uncle were staying in the city to try and scrounge up some work. We moved around a lot otherwise, but he wanted to make his mark on the guilds there.”

You shuddered at the memory, Rauf’s many dealings running through your mind. You quickly pushed them away, instead remembering someone else from your recent past. “My friend — Joneta, who I only saw once in a while — she was in the same city as us. Whenever we were together, it was inevitable that we’d get into trouble. Stealing, pranks, mixes of the sort. But nothing that I’d do now, of course.” You looked pointedly at Theo, who rolled her eyes.

“We were sitting around at one of the guilds, bored out of our minds. Joneta suddenly stood up, saying we should go to the notice board and find a small job, something that could get us enough coin for some stupid card at the market.”

Jaskier nodded, “Gwent. Classic.”

Theo glared at the bard, “Will you shush.”

“Children, please. I’m telling a story.” You ignored the glares and closed your eyes, letting the memory overtake you.

Joneta’s grin was mischievous. Whenever she got that look — the look that always preceded the two of you getting in loads of trouble — a fluttery feeling rose in your chest. Even though you knew it meant no good, the chase for adrenaline and action always enticed you — especially in winter when you had nothing else to do.

You squinted at the girl in front of you,“What kind of job will we take?”

“The little ones never give enough coin. We have to do something risky. Something dangerous.”  

Your stomach did a flip. You knew if Rauf found out the two of you were going to do something stupid, he’d have your head. But you also knew that he would rather you be doing the said stupid thing safely.

So, you nodded your head at Joneta, silently standing up and gesturing for her to follow you. Because if you were going to take a dangerous job, you would need the proper weapons to do it. And getting those weapons was a risk on its own.

“You stole weapons from the guild?” Jaskier asked, bringing you back to reality.

You shook your head, a small smirk forming on your lips. “I took them from Rauf.”

Theo scrunched her nose in confusion, “Who is Rauf?”

“The uncle.” Geralt added, his voice surprising you. You honestly hadn’t realized he had been listening, and listening so intently. His elbows were resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. He played it off by throwing another stick in the fire, but you knew his interest had been peaked.

Jaskier clicked his tongue from in front of you, drawing your attention back to him. “You’re telling me you stole weapons from your uncle to go take a job that could very easily get you killed?”

“Yes, exactly that.” You tilted your head, “May I continue?”

“Please.”

“Thank you.” You cleared your throat, for once reveling in the attention the group was giving you. “Now, where was I…right. I stole Rauf’s knives.”

It was a miracle that you made it out of the guild without getting caught. Rauf was in some sort of meeting, and no one seemed to pay mind to the two little kids scampering around unsupervised. You and Joneta even snuck past the gate’s guard while he talked to a fellow assassin. It was way too easy, and you knew that Joneta would want an even more dangerous job just because of that.

The notice board of the city wasn’t far. By the time you got there, snow began to fall, leaving you and Joneta shivering in your spots. But still, you both searched the board for something good.

“There!” Joneta pointed before snatching a flier off the board. “‘Drowner stuck in ice near the river. Hefty reward for its head.’”

“Sounds good to me,” you said, the adrenaline warming your frostbitten skin.

The two of you ran through the streets towards the river, your determination making people jump out of the way. The area near the river was quiet, probably because of the rumored drowner nearby.

You and Joneta stopped at the edge of the bridge, eyes searching the ice cold water.

“We need to get a better look,” Joneta said, running over to the staircase that led to a platform closer to the water.

“I don’t like this.” Jaskier sighed, immediately being cut off by Theo’s groan.

“Then don’t listen.” She waved you on to continue despite Jaskier’s glare. You bit your lip, but continued on.

As you and Joneta looked all around the bottom area, searching for the drowner, you began to feel uneasy. You frowned, watching the river flow smoothly in front of you. The notice had said the drowner was stuck in ice, but the river wasn’t iced over anymore. Your stomach churned at the realization, but before you could say anything, Joneta let out a scream.

You turned around in an instant, seeing Joneta struggle against the drowner’s grip. It growled at her from the water, its hand clasped around her ankle. With little hesitation, you pulled out one of Rauf’s knives, getting ready to slice the drowner’s hand.

Before you could, Joneta yelled,“No, we have to lead it out!”

“Are you crazy?” You breathed, your heart jumping in your throat.

Joneta pulled gently on her own leg, trying to coax the drowner out of the water.“We have to kill it!”

You scoffed at her, but realized that leaving the drowner here would only put other people in danger. You ran over to Joneta, grabbing under her armpits to pull her further from the water. The drowner kept its grip on her ankle, letting the two of you drag it onto the platform.

As soon as it was out of the water, it pulled Joneta from your grasp, crawling on top of her with its slimy teeth bared. She kicked at its legs but it didn’t budge — quickly, you slid out from under her and grabbed at its shoulders, wincing at the cold skin as it fell to the side. You readjusted the knife in your hand, and with one swift jab, you stabbed the drowner square in the face.

“Fuck.” You breathed, stepping away from the now dead creature.

Without a word, Joneta snatched the knife from your hand, bringing it to the drowner’s neck. She sliced into its cold skin, sawing back and forth with determination. You grimaced, watching as your friend beheaded the thing that just tried to kill her.

You looked at the group around you with a shrug. “And then we brought the head to the shop owner and got the reward. Plus a used Gwent card.”

“Bullshit.” Theo’s eyes narrowed at you, a mix of awe and disbelief hidden beneath them. “There’s no way that actually happened.”

You snorted. “If only. My uncle had me clean out the local horse’s stables for a month because of it.”

The night was silent once more. You looked between each of your group — Theo, now frowning at the idea that your story was real, Geralt, who was stoic as always (but you could see he was amused, if not impressed) — and, Jaskier, who winked at you once you caught his eye.

He clapped his hands together, bringing the silence to an end. “Well. That was a lovely, lovely story. Are you feeling sleepy now, Theo?”

“Fuck off.”

You smirked at the two, standing from your spot on the ground. “I’ll take first watch.” Leaving the sound of low bickering and a crackling fire, you walked to the edge of the cave, hand on the hilt of your sword.

With a deep breath, you let yourself remember Rauf, even if you didn’t want to.

Your uncle was furious when you got back to the guild. He stood in front of you, his brows creased in a frown, arms crossed over his chest.

He had been staring at you for a while now. At this point, you wished he was yelling, maybe even giving you a whack on the head for what you did. But his eyes remained situated on you like they were frozen solid, forever indebted to giving you a disappointed glare.

When he spoke, you nearly jumped from your seat. “How did you do?”

Now it was your turn to frown. You looked up at your uncle, eyes narrowed. He didn’t ask if you were okay, or why you did it — he asked you how.

You cleared your throat, feigning bravery under his glare.“I did well. Took the drowner down on my own.”

His brow was still creased when he nodded. And, just like that, he left the room without another word.

By the time the memory faded, you realized you were inspecting one of your own knives. Not long after that day, Rauf found a blacksmith to make you some of your own— the very ones you still held.

You sighed, placing the knife back in your sheath. No matter what you did, you would never be rid of the man you called your uncle. He was everywhere you looked, even when you slept. All you could do now was try to be nothing like him.

You leaned against the cave wall, looking up to the night sky where the stars shined brightly. You hoped, that after all of this, after all you’ve been through — you would find your mother. And soon.

———————————————————————————————————

Let me know your thoughts!

[fortune-fool02]

From Future to Past

Jean Pierre Polnareff x teenage daughter reader

Requested by: anonymous

Time Travel Au

I originally denied this request but I decided to actually attempt it to see how I do with Time Travel AUs. Please enjoy.

Looking around the area, the young [Hair colour] teen shifted her eyes to the map in her hands then back up at the sign. Apparently this was the place. Maybe. 

She slipped the map into her pocket and swapped it for the photograph of a man in his late thirties with silver hair that was styled upright, seeming to defy gravity, and a form of stylised eye patch over his right eye. With the inability to use his legs, he sat in a wheelchair and dawned a couple of prosthetic fingers. From his ears hung two earrings that gave the impression of a broken heart. 

This photograph, in this time, was twelve years early so she doubted he would look exactly like the photo but he would look close. Time displacement always complicated everything but she needed to find the man in the photograph before the enemy did, otherwise, there would be no future for her. 

Literally. 

Slipping the photograph back in her pocket, [Name] took off South, hoping to find her father before her enemy did. 

***

How big was this damn town? It looked so small in the map but it was nowhere near small. How was she supposed to find her father in this place? None of the signs were in English, every street looked the same and she was certain that she has passes this street already. 

Great, she was lost and there was no trace of her enemy nor her father. How was she supposed to- 

[Name]’s thoughts were cut off when the hood of a car collided into her side, sending her rolling down the road a little and smacking her head against the dirt ground, leaving her slightly dazed but nothing to severe. 

“God dammit, Polnareff!” a voice was heard followed by car doors slamming open and footsteps. [Name] felt someone’s hands on her in a gentle manner to prevent further pain for her. 

“Are you alright, miss? He didn’t see you.” A red-haired teen asked, seeming to be a few years older than herself. She sat up slowly, her hand resting against her temple to soothe the aching throb from the ground. 

“I-I think I’m alright. Merci sir.” Her eyes opened to see four males standing around her, the silver-haired one turning to the red-haired beside her. 

“Excuse me but she ran out into the middle of the road. How was I supposed to stop?” All fogginess in her head cleared away at that voice. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and looked up at the man. 

Silver hair styled upright that seemed to defy gravity. Pale blue eyes that wasn’t accompanied by an eye patch. two earrings that bared resemblance to a broken heart. With the ability to use both his legs, there was no need for a wheelchair. There was no denying, this man was the same man in the photograph that sat in her pocket. 

This man was her father. 

The older man took in her appearance, noticing the strange resemblance she bared to their French friend. “Hey, Polnareff, she kinda looks like you.” That directed the attention to her as the men examined her closer. Her eyes were an exact replica of his pale blue ones, their skin shared a similar shade and the French that slipped her lips earlier also added to the pile. But the earrings was what drew most attention. 

“That’s funny, she does.” Polnareff commented, realising that this girl did bare quite a resemblance to him that was a little odd. “Who are you, mademoiselle?” [Name] thought. How was she supposed to explain this? Was telling him bad? No, her father -from her time- told her that, if everything goes correctly, then they would forget everything that happened and things would return to normal.

Taking a breath, she looked up at them. “My name is [Name] Sherry Polnareff, I’m your daughter.” The Frenchman blinked once, twice, taking in her answer to the point she could see the gears turning in his head, before a reaction was given. 

“WHAT? How is that possible?” The sudden increase in volume caught her off-guard, making her flinch, as this was the first time she saw her father react in such a way. “How’re you my daughter? You’re like twelve years old and I haven’t even had sex with anyone!” 

Of all things that could have been said, those were the words that came first? This man was unlike the father she knew, this man was foolish and childish whilst her father was serious and mature. What on Earth happened between those twelve years that changed him in such a dramatic way? 

Her father never spoke of his time in Egypt and whenever he did, the answers were always vague and short; and there was always this expression he wore, a mixture of happiness and sorrow. Whatever happened that caused it must not have happened yet. 

“He’s got a point,” the elder man said, catching [Name]’s attention, “How can you be his daughter? That’d mean you were born when he was about ten.” 

[Name] pushed herself to her feet and dusted the sand off her clothing. “It would be better to talk about it somewhere safe. But there’s something I must say first,” she turned to Polnareff, “Your life is in danger.” 

***

After returning to the hotel they were staying in, [Name] explained everything. How the enemy that had been hunting her father from her time had found a way to go back in time to kill him to re-write history in a way, and how that would lead to her vanishing from existence completely, as well as resulting in the death of all the crusaders.

It was quite a lot to take in and processes, and there was that sense of distrust from them that demanded further evidence that she was who she claimed to be. And so she showed them her Stand, a combination of Silver Chariot and her mother’s Stand, along with some features of her own. Now they couldn’t deny the truth. This girl was, indeed, Polnareff’s daughter. And that knocked the Frenchman off his feet for a good couple of minutes.

“So, this enemy, who is he?” Kakyoin asked her after she had explained it. 

“He’s someone that needs to be stopped at any cost. That’s all you need to know.” Despite the small look he gave her, he accepted her answer. [Name] turned her gaze to her father who had yet to say anything, aspects of the man she knew peeking through slightly. 

“And what happens after we defeat him?” Mr Joestar asked, 

“Everything will return to normal. I’ll return to my time and it would be like none of this ever happened, but he won’t exist, therefore, completing our goal.” Polnareff turned to her, confusion on his face. 

“As in, we’ll forget about all of this?” She nodded. Something flickered across his face but vanished before she could read it. With a sigh, she stood up and turned to them all. 

“Look, I understand how bizarre this all is but please, all I’m asking of you is to help me stop this man before he kills my father. That’s all.” She had travelled back through time to save her father’s life, and if these men weren’t going to believe her that was not her concern. She was going to save her father’s life with or without their help. 

Polnareff approached her, his form towering over her smaller one. “Alright, what do you want us to do?” She smiled at that. 

***

The trap was set. Kakyoin and Jotaro were waiting inside the cafe with Polnareff whilst [Name] and Mr Joestar stood outside, waiting in the shadows. The plan was in place, Kakyoin, Jotaro and Polnareff were to set a display that made it appear they were arguing and he would storm out and wander off, [Name] and Mr Joestar would trail him and wait for the enemy to strike. 

The arguing was the easiest part as by the sound of it. As the two trailed behind the Frenchman, [Name] saw the third shadow trailing him and motioned to Mr Joestar. The shadow darted from the safety of the alley, his Stand materialising beside him and ready to strike; that would have been the case if [Name]’s Stand materialised and clashed against his and throwing him off. 

“You little bitch!” he shouted, his attacks now focused on the daughter rather than the father. With the knowledge of this man wishing to bring harm to her father, [Name] showed no mercy. Her Stand’s attacks were ruthless, striking at incredible speed that could equal that of Silver Chariot. Polnareff couldn’t help but watch this. Though when he saw the enemy’s Stand land a strike on her chest, knocking her into a building, something in him took hold. 

He couldn’t explain it, it was like a primal urge of sorts to protect her by any means. And so he did. Silver Chariot struck through the enemy repeatedly, spilling blood from him and throwing him off guard as his attention was consumed on [Name]. 

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Silver Chariot’s weapon pierced through the enemy’s head at that, delivering the killing blow and reducing the man to nothing but a lifeless corpse. Before Mr Joestar or the others could do anything, Polnareff rushed past them towards where [Name] had landed to find her injured but alive. Relief washed over him as he took her into his arms, dusting her off and assuring her that he was alright and the enemy was dead. 

She smiled. He was safe, both in this time and hers. Her mission was complete. With no reason to remain, [Name] prepared herself to be returned to her time when she spoke. 

“One more thing, before I go,” she said, turning to her father, “When you get to his mansion, don’t split up. No matter what, stay with your friends.” And with that, she was gone. 

***

The years passed by and all memories of what happened had faded minutes after transpiring. And now Polnareff sat in the hospital room, cradling his new born daughter in his arms. She was so small in his arms that he was almost afraid of damaging her. His finger gently caressed her pale skin that matched his own, his eyes shifted to his friends. 

Jotaro. Mr Joestar. Kakyoin. Avdol. All of them were there, proud for their friend. “So, what’s her name?” Avdol asked him. 

Polnareff looked back down at his daughter, a loving smile on his lips. “Her name is [Name] Sherry Polnareff. And I owe her so much.” he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, promising himself that he would never allow harm to come to her.  

[wolf-555-writer]

Target On My Back Part 8

Sad to say, but this it the last part of the series. Hope you like this one and hope you’ve enjoyed the other parts as well! Thanks for all the comments and reads, really appreciate hearing from you guys :)

And special thanks to @kaddistar . You’re amazing! Thanks for taking the time to read it beforehand and give me feedback to get all the facts straight. And obviously the fucking amazing backstory. Couldn’t have done it without you! :)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: Having found her true match, Natasha starts to think that even though her dark past, she does deserve happiness. But then you get shot and she blames herself for it. For the mistake she made and she starts to doubt all over again. Will Natasha be able to defeat the demons in her mind and finally get that happiness she deserves?

Word Count: 5,162

Seated on the roof of the SHIELD facility, the place she goes when she wants to be alone and think. It’s been a couple of months now since the incident. The missions are not the same without you. Natasha leans back, resting on her elbows. She closes her eyes and sighs, letting out a long breath. There was no time to drive to Headquarters. You wouldn’t have made it. Badly wounded, Clint and Natasha carried you into an emergency unit twenty minutes away from the grim warehouse instead. They made it in thirteen. Hanging on by a thread. Immediately put down on a gurney. Rushed towards an operating room by a fair amount of doctors, all dressed in white. Flatline en route... She still recalls what her shaking hands had looked like. Red. Covered in your blood. The round had pierced the vest, and didn’t leave an innocent flesh wound behind. But if you hadn’t jumped in front of her, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now. She has gone over the mistake countless times. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. Why didn’t she anticipate what was coming? Had she been off her game? Did she underestimate him? Being distracted? Distracted by emotions? It doesn’t matter anymore. It was stupid. Stupid of you to jump in front of her. It should’ve been her.

Natasha pushes the thought away. It’s not a good memory. She closes her eyes again and shakes her head as if to clear away the image, making room for a better one. It’s not a special memory, but it’s at least a tiny spark of happiness hidden in all the bad.

“(Y/N), you just missed the turn”. “No I didn’t”, you say, voice full of certainty, driving in a crappy old car with Natalia riding shotgun. Actually, it’s a stolen, crappy old car, driving away from a successful assasination attempt that won’t ever be traced back to the two of you. Not driving too fast, or too slow, calm and relaxed, not drawing any attention at all. As you’ve been trained to do. Flashes of blue lights fly by, going in the other direction fast, accompanied by a wailing sound of sirens. “Where are we going?”, Natalia asks once again. The answer she has to settle for is a mysterious grin on your face, keeping your eyes focused on the road that’s being illuminated by the poorly working headlights. The breaks screech and the vehicle comes to a lingering halt. Leaving the headlights on in the dark of night, you get out of the piece of scrap-iron, but pop your head back in and say, “You coming or what?”. Natalia opens the door on the passenger side, not knowing what you’re up too, yet liking the mystery of it. And being here in the middle of nowhere with none other than you. She walks to the front, leaning against the hood of the car, hearing the calming sound of the gentle waves in the sea. She glances at you when you appear, holding an item in your hand. A glass bottle. Unscrewing the cap, you place yourself next to her, close of course, and smile. “Want some?”. “I thought you’d never ask”, she teases and grabs the vodka bottle, taking a sip, not breaking eye contact with you. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”, you hint at her, staring into her fiery green eyes for a moment, then averting your gaze to the numerous stars in the sky above.

It was indeed a beautiful view, as well as the stars... she calls to mind when another Agent steps on the roof. Natasha speaks, “I can't. I just… I can't keep doing this”. “I know, it’s been months. Just give it some time”, the person replies. “I don’t know if I can do that…”. “You just have to hold on a little longer, okay? Can you do that?”. A hand squeezes her shoulder softly, trying to give the redhead some comfort.

“And don’t be so dramatic, Nat”, the Agent says, sitting down next to her. “I’m the one that actually took a bullet”. “Just let me have this moment okay”, she jokes, nudging her shoulder lightly against yours. “Some days I can't stand the Agent assigned with me”, she complains. “I'm constantly busy holding their hand or telling them what to do”. 

“Ah, I see. That explains the drama”, you say using a sympathetic tone. “I just miss working with you”, Natasha reveals. “Don't go too hard on them, okay. I don't know if you've heard, but it's nearly impossible to keep up with the Agent Romanoff. She's just that good”. Natasha’s eyes glint and she grins at your last remark when a peaceful silence lays over the place for a minute.

“Were you thinking about that memory again?”, you ask her, referring to the moment you entered the rooftop earlier. The redhead stays silent and keeps staring at the clouded, grey horizon. “It’s a miracle I’m still an Agent you know”, she mentions after a couple of seconds, ignoring your question still. Borrowing a SHIELD helicopter - as Natasha phrased it - wasn’t taken up that well by the Director. However, he couldn’t argue with the end result, because she brought one of his best Agents back - like Fury expected she would. “Guess you are irreplaceable after all”, you react with a smile and cup her face with your left hand. “Especially to me”. You stroke her cheek with your thumb softly and stare into her eyes. She grins. “Wow, did you just make that up or was it rehearsed?”. “As a matter of fact, it came to me this very moment. I’m just that smooth”. Natasha rolls her eyes which is roughly translated to ‘how do I put up with this person’ and says, “Only ‘cause you took a bullet for me, otherwise…”. She doesn’t finish her sentence, instead leaned closer, and gives a sweet kiss on your lips which is more than happily accepted by you - not needing to know how that sentence ended anyway.      

After your lips parted your expression hardens. “I’m sorry Nat”, you apologize. “Sorry? For what?”. You take her hand in yours and tilt your head down as a sign of failure. It takes a moment for you to speak again. “That… that I don’t remember. That I can’t remember all those memories from our past”. She lifts your chin up and locks eyes, that mesmerizing grin present, knowing exactly what to say. “Well, let’s make some unforgettable ones then”.

Your face gradually lights up and you shuffle to the right with the use of both arms. Closely settling beside Natasha and she rests her head on your shoulder quietly. Mind unwittingly wandering to the event that happened 3 months, 2 weeks and 6 days ago - you know, approximately. How your heart had stopped, and fortunately began beating again - or so you’ve been told. It's all a blurry mess in your mind between Natasha firing her Glock and you waking up, more or less in one piece, in a hospital bed. There’s however one thing you do recall crystal clear. While Natasha took the kill shot, you had jumped in front of her, just in time, due to the other not-succeeded kill shot that would've otherwise torn through your lover's tactical vest. And, even worse, through her heart. She says it was stupid of you, only you would do it again, and again, and again if it means saving her. But seriously, sometimes it feels as if there’s a real angel guarding over the high-risk life you’re living, preventing you from leaving this messed up world.

“How did they find us anyway?”, you wonder out loud, breaking the silence. Natasha looks up and takes a few seconds to gather an answer. “I doubt the KGB was searching for a presumed dead person, so I guess they found me. But, as you know, got you instead”. “Hmm catchy, ‘presumed dead person’”, you repeat ironically. “But I don't know how. Fury suspected that it was one of our own who talked” - the reason why he didn't officiate your retrieval, as to prevent a rescue team from walking into a possible ambush. Besides, the Director knows perfectly well how competent the former spy/assassin is on her own - “But there's still no proof to confirm that. So, or they're covering their tracks pretty damn good, or we just don't know. Doesn't really matter now”, Natasha concludes.

“What do you think would have happened if that KGB officer took me back? To Russia?”. Calling him your ‘dad’ hasn’t even crossed your mind. The bastard didn’t deserve it. He deserved to be shot. A retribution for what he had done to your loving mother who gave her life for you. Natasha responds firmly, “I wouldn't have let that happen”. “I know, but what if?”. “Brainwash you. Use you as their weapon. Again. He might not have been able to kill you, but it sure as hell wouldn't have been a happy family ending”. “Understatement of the year. I got all the family I need here anyways”. You glance at Natasha. She grins again. “You're really on a roll today huh”. With a silly smile you shrug your shoulders and lean closer again, just like Natasha, and receive a warm kiss once more.

“Are you sure you ready?”, Natasha caringly asks, giving her watch a quick peek. “Never been more ready”, you confidently state, waiting for this moment for what seems to be forever. Sitting still is not one of your qualities and you’ve been training day in and day out since you gained permission to get out of that uncomfortable infirmary bed. Preparing yourself for what you do best. Natasha studies you with narrowed eyes for a solid ten seconds first, “Good. That said, we should go. Can't be late for the briefing”, and jumps up. You slowly follow as if having all the time in the world. “Relax, it's fine. Coulson has a soft spot for us”. Your colleague raises her eyebrows at that statement and corrects, “For you, you mean”. “No, not only for me”, you reply defensively. “Yes he does, it's very obvious. You're his favorite”. You scoff and place your hands on your hips. “No I am not. Take it back”. Natasha marches towards the rooftop entrance and sticks with her point of view. “No, why would I? It's true”. “Okay, then I guess Director Fury has a soft spot for you, considering you still have your job”, you counter after having reached the entrance too by taking a sprint. “True, but I just call him Nick”. With a surprising smile you close the door behind you. “You're joking”. “Do I look like I'm joking?”. Natasha has raised one eyebrow with a dead-serious expression present. You wave your hand in a nonchalant way. “Pff, I'll just ask Maria”. “It's Agent Hill”. “You're so gonna regret that”. She laughs and bites her lip after saying, “Oh I can't wait”. 

Natasha scans the crowded pavement across the street. A group of tourists following their guide closely while taking pictures of the same-looking shop-windows and of dull, concrete buildings. She doesn’t really see the point, taking a bunch of photos that will be stored away on some drive and never be looked at again. Her eyes move to a person who’s wearing headphones, a black hoodie, same colour backpack and ripped, faded jeans. Nope, too young. An expensive sports car pulls to the curb, and someone in a just-as-expensive suit, glossy golden watch showing off on his wrist, is shouting curse words into his phone while climbing out. Too rich. The SHIELD Agent is waiting patiently and leans back while speaking into her earpiece, “How’s it going?”.

A scope glides over ordinary people who are unaware that they’re being watched and fixes on the image of a woman, seated at a table outside of a cosy café. A cup of coffee in front of her, already empty, and wearing sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright sun rays. She sits cross legged, a calm appearance, yet properly concealed from the public carrying a firearm and her hair is colored stunningly red. It’s Agent Romanoff. 

A voice returns in Natasha’s ear. “Watching your every move”. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be looking at me”, she implies to the other SHIELD Agent present on this operation, who is located in a five-story building across the street, scanning the block from this ideal vantage point. Natasha lowers her sunglasses a bit and peers over the metal brim at an apartment window, precisely in your direction and raises her eyebrows. “Fine, but it’s not my fault that you’re the most beautiful view”, you suggest and move the scope to a group of people who are crossing the street because the walk signal just turned green.

“Focus (Y/N)”, Romanoff says with a professional tone, though a small smile present on her features, and lays eyes on someone exiting an alleyway. Brawny looking, rough beard and ragged coat, two sizes too large, meaning it’s easy to stow a weapon underneath. No, too short. “I can't seem to spot this guy”. “Me neither”, you reply, while Natasha’s eyesight already hit her next possible target. A man who has his hands tucked away deeply in his rain-coat pockets, a hat on, possibly to hide his face, and accidently bumped into a couple holding hands. He seems jumpy and is sweating nervously, not mentally stable at all. Too paranoid. Then onto a blond, short-haired guy, eating an unhealthy burger, watching his surroundings intently - sort of - from inside a dark law-enforcement SUV. Natasha rolls her eyes and sighs. Too obvious.

“And not to mention the guy’s kinda huge”, Barton adds, taking another bite of his cheeseburger as he stares out the half-tinted car window. “Always bringing useful information to the table, Barton”. Natasha knows she shouldn’t take it out on her close friend. But she’s currently well past the point of slight frustration. The intel is correct. It has to be, because she is the one who acquired it. Her sources never disappoint- she makes sure of that. After all, she is still Black Widow. So why hasn’t the guy shown up? The man entered the country two days ago and he’s here for one reason, and one reason only. To kill. So she shouldn’t have to explain why it is of great importance to locate and capture him.

“Wait, hold on”, you return. “Found him”. See, I knew I was right, Natasha thinks, constraining herself from gloating too much. Leave that for, well, never. She doesn’t care about bragging rights or taking the self-centered glory for herself. She only cares about getting the job done. Natasha has her heart rate, breathing and mind under complete control. She’s ready. This is where the actual operation is about to start. She patiently waits for you to disclose the location. But it stays awfully quiet.

You feel a cold, metal barrel pressed against the back of your neck. The comm in your ear is snatched out and crushed inside a beefy fist. Patted-down and disarmed too. Shit. Well at least I have the target… Taking the information you have on the man into heavy consideration, then making a run for it doesn't seem the most thoughtful action right now. Especially if you want to avoid another shot wound to showcase itself on your body. And if the bullet doesn’t kill me then Nat will definitely kill me for getting shot again…  

“I still remember you”, a guy with a thick Russian accent speaks. “Yeah, seems to be going around a lot these days”. Word got out a certain KGB-snitch is still alive. And apparently you’ve pissed some people off - made even more enemies - during your previous employment.

With the butt of his gun he hits you in the head and grapples you by the collar of your jacket to brutally spin you around. Knocking you off balance, limiting a powerful counter-attack from your fist, or elbow, or knee, or- well, you get the point. Now away from the window, you face him, finally revealing himself. How in the world did this guy sneak up on you without you noticing? You didn’t hear a single sound. Not a light creak from the wooden floorboards. Or a squeaky hinge from the door. Not even a pair of footsteps. Guess he is a lot smarter than his appearance gives credit for. In addition to his covert approach, he also bypassed three- no, two-and-a-half SHIELD Agents surveilling the block and found your hiding spot too. You have to admit, the guy has some impressive skills, doesn’t mean it hurts less though. Big-guy shoves the SHIELD Agent against the red-brick wall next to the window you were previously monitoring out of and pushes the stiff barrel of the gun in the skin on your jawline. Well, he’s angry all right. You obviously did something to him that you can’t recall anymore. But it might be related to that nasty scar on the left side of his head that was recently covered by a blue baseball cap, and had just fallen off. “Some other friends of yours also gonna drop by?”, you challenge, which he answers with another hurtful strike of his handgun. You spit out some blood and mock, “Maybe they’ll hit harder”.

Big-guy’s expression doesn’t budge and your challenging remark earns you a steel fist to the stomach - Ouch - driving the much-needed air out of your lungs too. “You stupid if you think this ‘funny’ distracting will work. I still kill you for doing this”. With his free hand he points to the left side of his buzz-cut head. “And I work alone, is better that way”. Showing off your teeth that have become red with blood, you start to smile widely. “Well, that's a shame. Cause I don't”.

“Drop the gun”, a familiar voice orders. The man spins around and grabs you in a tight headlock, barking back at the SHIELD Agent, “No, you drop gun!”. Natasha hesitates but holds her aim. “I said drop it!”. His finger is now pressing on the trigger dangerously. “Do it, or I pull!”. She has a clear shot, but knows that if she takes it, he will too. And she is not looking to decorate these apartment walls with the insides of your skull. So, there’s only one option. “Alright, easy, easy”. She throws her palms up as a sign of surrender. “I'll drop it”. Is this her weakness? Would she have done this in any other situation? - meaning before you happened. Would she?

Natasha slowly lowers the gun to place it on the paneled floor and says to the guy, “Guess I forgot to look over my shoulder. It’s very important”. “Kick it away”, he grumbles. With her foot she slides the Glock towards Big-guy, also taking a small step in the process.

“Stay back! Keep hands up”, he shouts, prodding the muzzle of the gun against your temple aggressively. “Easy, easy”, Natasha says with her hands up again, now interlocked behind her head. “And this idiot forgot to look over shoulder”, he mocks with a hateful grimace and yanks on his arm, temporarily closing off your windpipe. “Jeez, thanks, I know I'm not perfect”, you cough-speak with a hoarse voice. Though, you do feel like an idiot. Too easily you got caught in this guy’s intense strong grip where it’s impossible to free yourself from. And even if you could pull it off, then there’s still the high, unavoidable chance of getting shot. Nice odds. Would this have happened if you hadn’t gone into the field today? Is it too fast? Maybe you should’ve taken more time to recover. The almost-fatal shot wound (the second one to be precise) has taken its toll on your body as you haven't reached your old physical level yet, lacking a weighted 10 percent still. The price to pay. Uncertain if you'll ever be able to reach that full 100 some day in the future. One thing is certain however, if this particular situation would’ve happened either way, then Natasha wouldn't have wanted anyone else other than you here. Somebody who thinks like her and understands her without telling or showing what to do. Somebody who can read her mind.

“But it's never too late to look over your shoulder, am I right?”, you state loudly. The humorless Russian has more strength, you’ve experienced that all too well. But what you lack in that department compared to him, you make up for in speed. “Huh?”. Before he can even comprehend what it is that you mean, you rotated your head to the side, as if looking- well, it’s not that hard to fill this in- and lowered your body just about enough to rule out an unfavourable outcome. A razor-sharp blade grazes your neck and thrusts into Big-guy, now sticking out of his chest below his collarbone. When putting her Glock down on the floor, Natasha had cleverly grabbed her knife from the sheath hidden at her ankle and threw it from behind her head, perfectly timed with your movement.

The tough guy screams in pain - remarkably in a high pitch for a dude his size - and tries to grasp the knife handle with his armed-hand, relaxing his other arm slightly. Which is more than enough for you. You grip his wrist and duck down, weaving under his bulky arm and stretch it behind his back in an unnatural position. Another cry of pain comes out and his knees buckle due to a firm kick in the back of them. The skilled knife-thrower, aka your colleague, has also jumped in, closing the distance first, and snapped the weapon that was about to be aimed at her out of his hand with a precise swing of her leg. “Impressive”, you say to the redhead, motioning to the sharp blade with your eyes, because currently you have your hands full.

At last an angry groan escapes Scar-face’s mouth when you safely detain him by cuffing his wrists together, nice and tight. Then your eyes shift to the doorpost, same as Natasha’s, when someone else arrives, severly out of breath. “What? Did I... miss all... the fun?”, Clint huffs, slightly bent over and leaning against the white-painted door frame with his arm. “We'll give you a little credit, okay Barton”, Natasha teases with a wink. “But you need to lay off the cheeseburgers. Probably better”, you advise your friend.

He looks up at you with an angry scowl which changes into concern promptly. “Hold up, you’re bleeding (Y/N)”. “Yeah, that seems to happen when I’m with the two of you”, you answer Barton, handing him the new detainee. “Wait- what exactly went down here?”, Clint asks suspiciously, pointing at the knife handle flaunting on the man’s chest. Natasha and you both shrug your shoulders in innocence. "Ugh, never mind", forcefully encouraging the massive, cuffed Russian towards the exit with an aggravated push, Agent Barton shakes his head as a reaction to his fellow Agents, “Why do I even ask”.

“First day back and you almost manage to get yourself shot again”, Natasha says, bumping your shoulder playfully while walking out of the apartment room side by side. “Yeah and it wasn’t even by you”, you joke. But when you glance at Natasha, you notice that she gives off an agitated impression. “Too soon?”

Holding up a small, squared mirror with a troubled expression, you hiss, “That’s definitely gonna be a scar”. Sorry, Natasha mouths, disinfecting the small wound on your neck that she caused after having cleaned up the dried, dark blood first. “Still, good thing you didn’t throw a Widow’s Bite. That wouldn’t have left a cut, but it would’ve hurted like hell”. “See, I do care about you”, she admits, tilting her head slightly, and putting down the medical supplies, “All done by the way”. “Yeah, love you too”, you say with an ironic tone and stand up from the exam table positioned against the back wall of the small infirmary. Mirror still in hand, you move it closer to your jawline once more and note, “Matching scars it is. Don’t even remember how that other one got there”. I do, Natasha thinks, but doesn’t consider it of great importance to tell. Could be because she was the cause of that one as well. So instead she says, with a quick wink, “Don’t worry, you’re still cute”, which makes your busted lips curve into a smile.

“Hey, you free the rest of the day?”, you ask the redhead, putting on a clean shirt - without a blood stain - and grab your leather jacket. “What are you up to?”, she replies with narrowed eyes. “Come on. It’s a surprise”. She is not a big fan of surprises, yet your mysterious look makes her very curious. So Natasha motions with an open hand to the door and says, “Lead the way”.

Having crossed half of SHIELD HQ by now, you encounter some other agents who are staring at Romanoff and you just a little too long with their judgy eyes. But you don’t care what they think of you or Natasha. Let them judge. About your shared past- which is actually unknown to them, because it's highly classified, strictly known by only a handful of people-, about your work as an agent, about your failures, not having a perfect record anymore. Nah, you don’t care. There are other, more important things to care about. And a special person in particular. Going inside an elevator that only goes to the basement levels of the building, you reach into your pocket. “I know it's probably not the same as that crappy car you told me about-”. Holding up two sets of keys, you look away and try to swallow a big lump that has formed in your throat, but feel a warm hand touching yours. “It's perfect”, Natasha says softly. “They are property of SHIELD, but I figured we could borrow them, all they do there is collecting dust anyway”, you continue. “I won't tell if you won't”, your now co-conspirator offers while you meet her fiery green eyes. You smile. “Deal”.

Entering the huge garage filled with a variety of exclusive vehicles as the excitement is radiating from your bruised face, you propose, “So, you wanna go for a ride then?”, throwing one set of keys her way. Catching them midair, Natasha gives the item in her palm a quick look. “You asked Coulson, didn’t you?”. You glare at her. “...No”. Natasha laughs. “I know when you’re lying”. “Okay, maybe”, you admit and proceed to your prefered means of transportation. The redhead eyes you and voices, “Told you. Totally his favorite”.

Before putting the matte black helmet on Natasha challenges, “It’s about time we finally see who is the fastest”. Also sitting on another motorcycle as you chuckle. “No cheating Romanoff”. “As long as you don’t put a hole in my back tire then we’re okay”, she counters sharply. Key in the ignition, ready to turn but you freeze at her reaction and look at her with narrowed eyes. “Too soon?”, she teases and closes the visor while speeding away with screeching tires. “You’re so gonna regret that”, you whisper and set the chase for Black Widow once more. This time with an entirely different intention. You tighten the grip on the handlebars with both hands and accelerate,  leaving a trail of white-grey smoke behind.

Feeling the chilly sea breeze on your skin, you slowly open your eyes and meet an orange-yellow painted sky. After an interesting run both stopped at the side of some remote mountain road to take a break and enjoy the beautiful view - you know which one. Your fellow Agent’s bike is standing next to yours, who might have reached this destination a fraction of a second earlier, but you would deny that of course. Still seated, your arms wrapped around the waist of the woman who’s currently sharing the leather bike-seat with you, not ever thinking about letting her go. She’s leaning back, cuddled up to you closely as she’s in need of some warmth to counter the cooling air around her. Both staring at the horizon where the sun is gradually setting, your chin gently resting on her right shoulder. Natasha rotates her head a bit in your direction. “Was it my fault?”. “Nat- just drop it”. “Please?”. You sigh. “Okay, I was mad at Barton”. “Yes, I noticed. Everyone noticed. My question is, why?”. “I didn’t like him knowing my past”. “So it was my fault?”. “Well… and also that you and him were so close”. You pause and Natasha glances at you, waiting for your next words. “Maybe I was jealous”. She laughs. “Maybe?”. “I was dealing with a lot of emotions at the time, okay. Give me some slack”, you counter and quickly add, “But I have it under control now”. Natasha looks at you, proud, and buries herself into your safe embrace again, resting her head against the side of yours. “Yeah, me too”.

“Told Barton the same after we had some beers. All he did was laugh, like non-stop for ten minutes”, you say with a light grumpy tone. “I totally understand why he laughed his ass off. I mean come on, ‘jealous’?”, Natasha says with a chuckle. “Clint and I are just good friends. You and I are-”. “Complicated?”, you finish with a half-smile. “Much more and will always be, is what I was about to say”, she mentions with a corrective voice. Shit, I almost forgot… You move one arm away from Natasha’s waist and still feel the item in your jacket pocket.

“I know we shouldn’t… but I brought something”. The redhead glances over her shoulder to look at your hand. Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she wants to speak, but is at a loss of words, and quietly takes one. “Cheers”, you whisper in her ear, holding up the bottle filled with vodka next to hers, “To making new memories”. She clings the glass with yours and repeats, “To making new memories”. And both take a chug of the strong alcoholic liquid. You wince a little. Oof, strong stuff. Yet Natasha seems unaffected by the Russian booze and gazes at the horizon again. Staring into the wide, unknown world, where nothing is certain. Except for one thing.

The target on your back will never go away, is what Coulson had said the moment you woke up from the almost fatal shot wound - the second one. It's a part of you. Of your past. Of your current job. You'll have to carry it with you until the end. What the end may ever be. You turn your head slightly to the left, and know it will be alright. No, not till the next time.

But till the end.   

Tags: @5aftermidnight, @ohfuckno​

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 81

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS:  When Claire fails to rendezvous with Jamie as arranged, he races back to her apartment to try and find some clues as to where she might be. He comes up empty handed except for some recorded message and one from Jonathon Randall breaking their dinner date. Jamie returns to Section One to use Section’s facilities to find Claire.

THANK YOU for reading, liking reblogging and for your comments on the last chapter. Unfortunately, things always get worse before they get better. Jamie will prevail but there will be some obstacles in his way and none more than Operations.  Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

  CHAPTER 81 Jamie wasn't surprised to discover that he had reached his destination in next to no time. Finding himself in front of Claire's apartment building he parked his car, got out and raced inside the building making his way to her floor in swift haste. The corridor was deserted and his footsteps echoed in the corridor as he quickly made his way to Claire’s apartment. His heartbeats sounded overly loud in his ears as he neared her door hoping that he would find Claire at home and that she would have a good explanation as to why she didn’t rendezvous in the park.  His thoughts then started to play tricks on his mind.

Perhaps she was unconscious and that is why she hadn’t answered his frantic and persistent calls. Had she had an accident of some sort, or a fall and was unable to call for help?  He knew she loved to take baths.  Had she fallen asleep in the bath or had bumped her head on the bathtub? Had she drowned in the bathwater? Please God no!  

These scenarios filtered through his mind at a rate of knots and only managed to increase his apprehension about his Sassenach’s fate.

Should he enter her apartment and find her in any one of these situations his heart would break.  Nothing would ease the desolation of ever losing her.  Claire was his reason for breathing.  She was his everything. She was the one who saw him for the man he was and not the cold, killing, machine operative Section One had moulded him into.  Claire Beauchamp was his life and he had no life if she was gone.

Jamie couldn't let himself believe the other alternative that she may have been kidnapped but braced himself for the worst if not. Looking around surreptitiously he paused for a few seconds as he stood in the hallway outside her apartment before knocking on the door. 

But there was no answer. Inside her apartment, the security monitor showed him standing outside but unbeknownst to Jamie this was the only life in an otherwise eerie quietness. Lifting his hand, he knocked again ... louder this time all the while breathing rapidly and wanting very much to break down the door. There was still no response even though he’d seen her car parked below in the underground parking lot. Agitated he tapped his fingers against his thigh before reaching into his pocket and removing the U-key he’d brought with him. He checked the door then inserted the key into the lock, jiggling it somewhat until he heard a soft click. As the lock snapped open, he twisted the knob and slowly pushed the door slightly open.

Peering around the corner of the door in case it was a trap, he made a split decision that it looked clear. Nonetheless drawing his gun James Fraser quietly entered but still vigilant in case there was somebody hiding inside. Once inside he closed the door behind him and looked around. All seemed to be normal with no indication of anything out of place thus far. Jamie was perplexed and made his way into the apartment to check things out.

The interior of the room was bathed in the early evening glow of the illuminated buildings around the harbour coming to life. He’d become quite familiar with her apartment in the last couple of days and Jamie felt the presence of her touch. Claire had made it a home ... a safe haven for the two of them. Hesitantly, he stepped forward looking around then entered further into her apartment. His eyes scrutinized the room. It was empty ... no Claire. There was no sign of her at home. As he walked through her apartment nothing appeared to be out of place and there were no signs of any struggle or of a disturbance.

Except for the relentless ringing of the phone peeling on the bureau drawer, the apartment was deserted. He moved to answer the phone but the caller had hung up before he reached the handset. He immediately noticed the flashing red button on her answering machine indicating that Claire had been left some messages when people had failed to find her at home too. Jamie checked her message bank. Lifting the receiver he depressed the play button to reclaim the left messages. He listened as the recording listed the amount and time of the messages. You have three new messages. No saved messages. Message received today at 6.15 pm “Hi Claire ... Just letting you know I’ve returned home from my interview at Police Headquarters. Boy was that an eye opener! We’ll have to compare notes. Let me know okay.” Then there was another an hour later... “Hey where are you girl? Getting your hair done hmm? ... Can’t talk long I’m on my way out again ... it’s work. I wanted to wish you luck with your dinner date with Jonathon tonight ... Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! I expect to hear all about it when I get back from my business trip in two or three days. Gotta go ... Bye. Catch you soon.” Although Karen was the last caller one message in particular stood out. “Claire my dear ... I was so looking forward to our dinner date tonight but regretfully I will be unable to make it. I have unexpectedly been called away on business about my nightclub for the next few days and the police also need to interview me before I go. I do apologise but I will contact you as soon as I return to reschedule. Please accept my apologies and my rain check. I’ll be thinking of you ... until next time ... Jonathon.” Jamie closed his eyes in worried concern. Was Jonathon Randall responsible for Claire’s disappearance? Were her neighbour Karen Yee and her boyfriend responsible? If so, they would pay dearly. What if it was Inspector Jiang Ng who had arranged Claire’s disappearance? Dread at that scenario flashed through Jamie’s brain for they would never know if he was party to her vanishing as he’d already met his demise at Section One. With staunch determination he started his search in the living room. Jamie looked around the room then made his way through her apartment looking for any small clues of a struggle or disturbance of any kind to indicate that Claire had been taken, but the room was clean and nothing was disturbed. Seeing that the balcony doors were wide open, swinging in the breeze, he quickly strode toward them. Claire had obviously left them open to have a cup of tea on her balcony and enjoy the view. Although he found a used tea cup on the small table in the alcove there were no other clues on the balcony, but she had probably left that from this morning. Re-entering the apartment Jamie quickly climbed the stairs to Claire's bedroom where he saw her night attire scattered on the bed. He stared at the crumpled remains of the bed linen that lay in a tangle on the floor. Their lovemaking this morning had been playful and intense but they had left the bedroom as they left it when Claire had been called into the OCTB and a while later when Fergus had alerted him to the change in plans for Inspector Ng and his subsequent return to Section for the interrogation. The evidence of their coupling was a poignant reminder that tonight they would have repeated their dalliances now that the dinner date was cancelled. He stepped around them and looked in the closets but found nothing. Her clothes were all there nothing was disturbed. The sexy little red dress Claire had chosen to wear for this evening was hanging on a hanger, but everything was as it should be. Knowing that her dinner date had been cancelled Jamie was surprised that she hadn’t contacted him of Jonathon Randall’s change of plans ... but then again, she may not have been able to do so. She may not have even known that Randall had left a message on her answering machine, Jamie pondered.

There weren’t any clues in the bedroom, so he continued to her bathroom. Claire had not showered as the towels and shower stall were dry. So too was the bath. Next he checked the kitchen and saw that she had placed a rose in a bud vase and had left it on the table where they’d made such explosive love. Jamie couldn’t help but catch his breath.

Memories of their lovemaking here flashed through his mind too ... of his beautiful Sassenach in the throes of passion so responsive to his body, and of their simultaneous capitulation.  Memories of him lying beside her in bed, watching her sleep and then of waking up with her were all so vivid. It was too painful having these thoughts as his Claire was nowhere to be found.

Shaking those reminiscences from his mind, Jamie anxiously made his way back into the lounge room having found no trace of her anywhere in her apartment. He paused, his face thoughtful as he tried to understand what had transpired and where Claire might be.

Surely there would be some evidence of her having come back to her apartment after the Flash Mission? It bothered him that it appeared as though she had not returned at all as she’d planned even though her car was in the parking lot. Had she simply gone out or had something happened to her before she had reached her apartment? 

He took a deep breath fearing the worst.

Something was not right ... there was no sign of forced entry. Nothing was disturbed. Where was she and why hadn’t she made her rendezvous as agreed? A feeling of cold dread coursed through him. Something had happened to her; he could sense it. Something was definitely wrong. The very thing he had feared had eventuated ... Claire was missing and there was nothing to indicate that it had occurred in her apartment or for that matter who was responsible.

Jamie breathed deeply. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. But before he left her apartment, he decided to try once more to contact her on her cell phone. Relief registered on his face when he heard a voice.

“Hello?” “Jos-e-phine.” “Who is this?” a strange voice answered. Standing quietly in the centre of the room, James Fraser pensively closed his eyes allowing the shock and pain to course through his body.

He knew that having these emotions was, and always would be, dangerous, but at that moment it didn't matter. His initial relief at hearing someone answer Claire’s cell phone was now clouded by real concern for her safety. She must have dropped her phone and somebody must have found and tampered with it. 

“Where did ye get this phone?” he demanded, but Jamie was met with stony silence from whoever had her cell phone. The caller had disengaged. He knew for certain now that Claire had indeed been kidnapped. But by who ... who would want to take her and why? Where was she? She could be anywhere in this city of millions. The real concern for Jamie was that people who went missing in China were often never found. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack but he would find her and those who had captured her would regret doing so. If they harmed a single hair on her head, he would not be held responsible for his actions. Digging deep inside himself for the cold, calculating and logical rationalism of his personality Jamie let it take control of his emotions. He could not let sentiment cloud his judgement for he needed to keep a level head if he was going to find her. Opening his eyes slowly a steely determination registered on his face. Placing his gun inside his jacket, James Fraser left and closed the apartment door after him. Having found no trace of Claire, he knew exactly what he would do. Jamie headed to retrieve the security tape of the parking area before returning to Section One to use its facilities to find her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~

All the way to Section One he had a steely determination to do whatever it took to find his Sassenach and who had taken her captive. Buoyed by his anger, Jamie's blue eyes stared coldly ahead. How had they done it? Why? What did they want from her? 

It was obvious that Claire had been taken soon after the Flash Mission when he had returned to Section for the interrogation of Inspector Ng. He calculated that she had been missing for at least five hours now, more than enough time for her to be taken anywhere within Hong Kong or beyond which was a worry. He was angry at himself for the recall of Abernathy and Wakefield, but their brief was only to keep Karen Yee and her boyfriend Andy Ma under surveillance until he returned. They'd done that and had already returned to Section for their new assignment. Since the Flash Mission on Inspector Ng had been called at short notice, there was little time to organise another back up team for surveillance. Furthermore, as his recall for the interrogation was a direct order from Operations, there had only been a short time span between his recall and imminent return for the Jonathon Randall mission. Obviously, it had been enough time for someone to kidnap her. 

Jamie's heart was pounding with the scenarios coursing through his mind that made sense. His gut feeling told him that she was still here in Hong Kong somewhere ... all it needed was for him to find out her location. He was certain too that it would be someone connected to the Rising Dragons’ triad who was to blame for Claire's kidnapping. In fact, he was certain of it. It was the only thing that made sense. There were several people who were on top of his hit list starting with her neighbour Karen Yee. He just knew that she was responsible in some way either directly or indirectly and he would prove it. But first he would need to elicit Fergus’ help and all the facilities that Section One could provide to track them down. Jamie would do whatever it took; leave no stone unturned until he found who was responsible. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would find a way to rescue Claire. Then when he did find the culprits, they would wish they had never been born. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Returning to Section One, James Fraser strode down the sterile grey corridors and made his way towards the Comm. area. He was intense, his eyes were focused and he walked with a determined gait. Operatives who saw him enter Section noticed that there seemed to be an urgency about him, a tension that was tangible. He seemed more imposing and formidable than usual if that was at all possible. Jamie was resolute and purposeful in his behaviour. He certainly wasn't distracted by any operative going about their duties that he walked by on the way to Comm. Just one look at him told them to veer out of his way. James Fraser missed nothing. Through his peripheral vision he saw the shocked look on their faces as soon as he'd passed. He knew what they were thinking. They wondered why he had returned to Section so soon after leaving ... yet he couldn't care less at the moment. He had more important things to do and he had little time in which to do them. Time was of the essence. As he passed, they respectfully stepped out of his path. Judging by his bearing the operatives knew now was not the time to be in James Fraser's way. He was resolute, unwavering and had the resolve of a man on a mission. Usually nothing this man did revealed anything about his emotional or mental state when he was within the walls of Section One but tonight something was different ... something was wrong ... it was obvious by his manner. There could only be one reason why Jamie appeared as he did ... something must have happened to his partner Claire Beauchamp. Although the other operatives speculated on Jamie's demeanour, his thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only ... the necessity of finding Claire and where she was being held. He would also need to convey to Operations that the Jonathon Randall mission had been aborted and that his Claire was missing. Jamie didn't want to allow himself to think of what kind of circumstances that she would be in. He knew she was capable of looking after herself and would find a way to communicate her whereabouts when she could. But that was little solace when his heart was aching. He felt like a part of him was missing. Jamie's minimalist expressions always gave little away of the man beneath the cold operative veneer, but although he appeared to be in complete control on the surface, his emotions were in absolute turmoil tonight. Unfortunately, his mind wandered to the very thing he was trying to avoid thinking about.

What were her captors doing to her? Was she okay? Had they harmed her in any way? He took a deep breath as the thought he tried to banish to the back of his mind surfaced.

Was she still alive? 

No! ... That was not a possibility he wished to consider. He needed to stay focused. Claire needed him to stay focused. She was okay and would be until he found her ... the alternative was not an acceptable option. The uncertainty of not knowing where she was, or who her captives were, was killing him. This was his worst nightmare, but he would prevail and would find her at any cost. Claire was a well-trained operative and as such could endure whatever her captors might inflict on her. Jamie didn't want to acknowledge the possibility that she could be subjected to torture techniques and reminded himself over and over that his Claire was resourceful, brave, strong and steadfast. It would take a lot to break her ... that is if they could succeed at all. He quickened his stride. He had to find her. Suddenly the gleam in his eyes darkened as his cold operative persona rose to the fore. He would utilise everything and everyone at his disposal to find her and bring those responsible for her kidnapping to their knees. Jamie's footfalls echoed across the floor as he drew nearer to this destination. Rounding the corner, he saw Fergus at his work station but before approaching him, he looked up to the Perch to make sure Operations was concentrating elsewhere for he needed to see Section’s techie first. Meanwhile ...

Kicking open the door the two men dragged Claire inside with her hands handcuffed and bundled her into the room. With eyes that studied the room's interior Steven Bonnet stated. "It's not much, but you'll call it home soon enough." 

Claire surveyed the surroundings that were now her prison. The room and amenities were minimal but not as Spartan as before. There was a bed in one corner and the basic necessities were provided. However, there was no window and the artificial lighting fixed to the ceiling was the only illumination. "You keep guard Will ... I'll be back in a minute. I have to get something from Wang." "Okay." "Watch her and if she tries anything funny ... shoot her in the leg," he stated quickly leaving and closing the door behind him. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire stumbled and nearly lost her footing but managed to sit down on the bed, knowing that she would need to conserve her energy for whatever lay before her. She felt dreadful. Although the wound to her shoulder was only superficial it was still bleeding and it throbbed painfully. The bruises to her face had darkened and she looked a dishevelled mess. Drawing in a breath, she wondered what these people might have in store for her next. She knew that Jamie, having by now realised what had happened to her, would be at Section One doing everything humanly possible to find her. Now it was up to her not to lose hope. In order to seize an opportunity to help her get away then, she needed to be prepared to take advantage of any situation that became available to her. However, at the moment her captors seemed to have the upper hand. She was weak from loss of blood and her strength was diminished. Her mind however, was as sharp as ever. Claire knew she needed to stay strong and focused and bide her time until a situation arose when she could make an escape or if she was indeed rescued. Jamie will find me. Over and over in her head these words resonated in her brain. Claire knew how focused he was and how determined he would be to locate her. She had utter belief in his ability to do just that and hoped that it would be sooner rather than later. She could hold on for however long it took. She was not afraid. To the contrary ... she was more determined than ever to find out who had kidnapped her and why. She closed her eyes knowing that at some stage she would know but until then she drew on the inner strength of her Section One training to play the waiting game. Patience ... Claire. Have patience. Jamie will find you.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Saturday

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Echo pt5

Warning: This is a little dark. There is blood, death, Strong Language and yeah … please read with caution. **Still not sure what direction this is taking so I should add a warning for Author with no plot **

Masterlist

—

Echo part 5

“So, they brought someone back.” The deep voice resonated in the cave that served as their meeting place. Red eyes betrayed the hint of interest even as the owner’s voice did not. After delivering the news it seemed as if nothing of the unusual circumstance had been of great surprise to the black-haired Lord.

“But why bring back something from another realm like that? What advantage could be gained from doing such a thing?” The wild one-eyed lord grumbled plunging one of his blades into the dirt by his feet where he had been using its tip to idly draw.

“A fine question. What advantage indeed?” The white messenger agreed with the smile on his face broadening.

“You look like you have something to say.” Sounding irritated, as usual, the young blonde addressed him.

“He always does the question is will he tell us?”

“Come now do you really trust me so little?” Yellow eyes cast themselves over the faces of the gathering. One was unreadable, two seemed to be doing a poor job of hiding frustration, one was showing enthusiasm and one was turned down eyes following ink on parchment as if none of what was happening around them existed. “It is a fine question to ask as to what advantage could be gained by such actions but the more interesting part has yet to be determined.”

“Meaning?” Imperial to a fault the self-appointed head of their little group leant forward at this. the Interest they failed to show earlier clearly visible now.

“To who’s advantage it would benefit naturally.”

---

In an elegant guest room of the palace almost translucent swaths of fabric rustled in a warm breeze that swept into the room. The blank almost too pure colour pallet of the room consisted of chiefly whites and muted shades of pink did little to create a sense of comfort. It was much more accurate to say that it put you naturally on edge as if you were in a clinical environment awaiting some form of treatment.

It was hard to say how long it had been since they were bought here. She never wore a watch as they tended to make her feel impatient. She was also pretty sure her cell phone was laying back by her car so it wasn’t even like she could check that even if she could. Her body ached. That is to say, she thought it was her body. She could feel the soft cool sheets under her back taking on the heat from her. She could see the light, outlines of objects and hear faint noises somewhere in the distance. But that was all she could really do.

Blue eyes remained open and locked in place staring at the ceiling as her lifeless body had been laid out on the four-poster bed. It was what she imagined patients suffering from locked-in syndrome might feel. To be fully conscious and yet unable to move. Like Alice trapped behind a looking glass.

Kit willed herself to move. Anything even just a small fraction of a twitch. There was no logic behind the feeling she had but something was telling her that if she could do at least that much then whatever was trapping her in this state would brake and release her. She tried. Mind over matter, again and again. Just as her frustration was reaching its limit, she heard the sound of a door opening and a sickening scent assaulted her nose.

“Ah! There you are.” A shrill voice that felt like needles in her brain spoke. A shadow fell over her and it took a few seconds for Kit’s glassy eyes to adjust and make out the form in front of her. Blonde hair, blue eyes… but human. At least more human than the creature that put that gunk on her arm and brought her here. “Oh dear, dear, dear… whatever have they done to you my little pet?” A chilled hand caressed her cheek as the supposedly concerned words failed once more to match the tone of voice.

“My Queen this is…” Kit recognised that voice. It was the creature that brought her here. So, these two know each other? And he just called her “My Queen”.

“I can see perfectly well who they are. You can leave.” A flint-like sharpness came with clipped words from the woman hanging over her as she replied.

“My Queen I—” The creature stammered.

“Unless you wish to stay and explain to me in more detail how this happened?” The Queen turned her back to Kit so she couldn’t see the expression on their face. She couldn’t see the creature either but something told her it probably looked something like a small animal in a trap.

“But you—”

“GO!” The Queen practically roared and the scouts entire body jumped at the sound. They quickly vanished through the door closing it behind them. “Loathsome little creatures…” With the sounds of scurrying footsteps leaving fading away the Queen corrected her expression masking the anger from before well and turned back to the still very immobile Kit. “Well now. Let’s get you up, shall we? I would like to get a better look at my daughter after all.”

Daughter!?

---

Flashing lights without sirens shone through the windscreen in a blur as the wipers worked in double time against the rain. A group of men standing around in drenched uniforms were huddled under the trees crowding around a radio when he opened the driver’s door and shouted across at them.

“Why the hell didn’t you all just get back in your vehicles and wait?”

“Sir?” A man wearing a police uniform snapped his head up squinting through the rain in the direction of the voice.

“Honestly I don’t want to be that guy that makes a comment about how traffic cops in this area are a little strange but do you think you could just get over here Wilkinson and try not to drip on the upholstery?” Slamming the door shut again he tapped his fingers in a mindless fashion against the steering wheel and waited.

The officer called Wilkinson detached from the group and obediently climbed in the passenger side of the Met Chief’s Mercedes. The police issued waterproofs crinkled and rustled worse than a leaf blower in autumn. They were also slick with so much rain they had stopped looking like they were resisting the moisture and appeared to be clinging to the uniform under it as if they were painted onto it.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come all the way out here for this Chief.” Wilkinson was a man of very little note. He seemed to embody all things average, although you could argue that that in itself is something to pay attention too. Average, height, build, general appearance. It would be difficult to pick him out in a line up of suspects should you ever have a need too as he really was the type to have a forgettable face.

“I was in the area. What do we know so far?”

“One of the Rangers called it in when he was checking the roads. Its common practice round here to check for potential landslips and dangerous trees. He came across the abandoned car. Lights were on and there was a big dent in the bonnet so he thought someone had hit something. He found a deer in the road but no sign of the driver.” Wilkinson filled in the details he had so far reading them from his notebook. The chief made sure to note that the man had at least had the common sense to use a pencil in this weather to make notes rather than rely on ink that would run and become impossible later on to read.

“And why did you call it into the high ups after attending if it was only an abandoned vehicle? You could have run the plates and traced the owner. Seen if it’s a stolen reg and dealt with it like that.”

“Because there were police files on the front seat. Signs of gunfire in that tree over there,” Wilkinson pointed at a tree with splintered bark in front of where the car was parked. “And…”

“And?” The Chief encouraged the younger officer to continue.

“Well there isn’t signs of a struggle but it’s strange. Cell phone, bag everything left behind in the car. The deer according to the Ranger looks to be a fresh kill of a sort but there is no sign of blood.” Wilkinson frowned at the detail clearly confused. To be fair the Chief would have been too if he had not already been aware of the strange activities in the area.

“No blood… And you ran the reg? Who was wandering around up here with police records and no backup?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt a chill creep up his spine and clamped his mouth shut.

“The Doc. Dr K.” The Doc had made a name for herself in these parts going out of her way to run free clinics on weekends a few times a month that treated everyone from homeless vets to just your average joe public that had no money, no insurance but was sick as a damn dog. Whether she was aware of the support she gained from doing such things was yet to be seen as Kit never once showed one glimpse of caring about such things. She did what she did because she believed it to be right that was enough for her and if someone hated or loved her for it was their issue, not hers.

“Alright Wilkinson go finish getting statements and contact info then head back to base I’ll take it from here and check in later.” The Chief was already patting down his jacket looking for his cell.

“Sir… this is an unusual case to be sure but do you really think that the Met…?”

“The Met is already involved because it was us that reached out to the Doc in the first place. I have to make some phone calls.” The Chief waved the newly found phone in his hand signally this conversation to be over. Details of this were still very much need to know and until he could say otherwise, he didn’t need more people involved.

“Understood. See ya later then Sir.”

Wilkinson tightened his grip on his collar and once more ventured back out into the rain. His dark form joining the small group again under the trees checking details of what he had already written in his notebook. The Chief watched the cop for a moment and chuckled. He had the man pegged as totally average but he had just shown a clear ability to make and draw fast connections. It was nothing more than to be expected of an officer but it did seem a little like a superpower when that gift was in Wilkinson’s skill set. He flipped open his cell phone and began looking through contact numbers until he found the one he wanted and held his breath as he hit the call button.

“Col? It’s me.”

---

[urlneverheardofit]

Over thinking Pathfinder: Kingmaker. Thoughts about Regongar.

1) Hes got crazy hormone issues, similar to our miserable teenage years except its his entire life. Examples: Testosterone overload, he's way aggressive, way hypersexual, etc. Secondly, oxytocin. Oxytocin is the "cuddle hormone" its a large part of the reason why women are more prone to falling in love after sex than men are, men get a huge dopamine rush (which is why they love it so much) whereas women get Oxytocin instead. Tristian comments Reg frequently assumes lust and love are one in the same. This is finely pointed out after the baron/ess seduces Reg, he essientally says "I love you" in more words. However it is possible that for love and lust to be the same concept in his mind if, along with a dopamine high, he got a Oxytocin rush as well. Whether the hormone issues is due to him being a half-orc, a dragon descendent, a result of his time in slavery, a weird side effect to his magic, or a totally regular hormone imbalance caused by (human) genes or otherwise, can't exactly be traced.

2) He's not exactly what most people think of as "Chaotic Evil" he isn't a savage uncaring, unfeeling creature like his orcish relatives, and he is perfectly capable of feeling human emotions, compassion, kindness and the like. However he might have a slight bit of moral window skewing, brain damage and/or some neurological disorder that causes him to not always realize that lighting peoples dogs on fire because it was annoying your gf is frowned upon and uncalled for.

3) The violence he is known for appears to be a attempt to regain some control in his life. This type of behavior (though not usually this extreme,) is common in people who have battled disease, severe financial issues, abuse etc. It's generally a longer form of "the cornered animal" type behavior, most people will fight-or-flight for what they need in desperate situations and then be done. But in long term exposure to having things done to you against your will, being uninformed about huge life desicions for long periods and the like can cause people to lash out for longer to gain the control of themselves back, if people are afraid of you, you can control them. Hence a quick easy way to make your life yours again. At the cost of others.

4) Any of his violence not covered by the control battle, can be attributed to his orc parent, or, more likely, something else behavioral entirely. Most people have situations where the can and will be pushed to that last straw and do things, acts of violence, physically impossible feats etc. If you've ever seen those articles about women lifting cars to save their babies, you know what I'm talking about. So for Reg a huge trigger is slavers, but this extends to traitors, defenseless enemies who he sees as irredemable and even his own companions for time to time. He is rather trigger happy if hes allowed to go from seeing-red to wanting to kill someone for because they cutting him off in traffic (someone needs an anger management class). Further consideration might put him on the autism scale even.

5) He's most likely battled depression for a loooong time. His stupid puns and generally spirited responses (spirited as in violent) hides his tracks well. In a romance dialogue scene the description says "a fresh set of cuts across his wrists are just beginning to heal" or near there. They 'new' implies he's got them and hes had enough of then that are obvious enough for the baron/ess to be able to tell a fresh set (then again, blood is fairly obvious)

6) He has about a -999999 self esteem. This is most likely rooted in multiple places, his upbringing in slavery, his feeling that he can't please anyone because he does it wrong, not even octavia, the fact he was sold into slavery by sheer chance. Plus the stigma against half-orcs anyways. Not a great combination for being confident in oneself. This anxiety of being useless and a waste of space overlaps to his sense of worth as a companion, a lover and a friend, he explains during yet another romance dialouge that he stayed up all night and convinced himself 3 seperate times that the baron/ess was going to dump him and leave him alone.

7) where'd he get time to master his pun-work?

8) Are half-orcs like mules in that they can't reproduce? Or if they can normally did the Technic league fix him so he didn't make 12 billion more angry 1/4 orcs? Maybe Octavia's using a cantrip that serves as a type of birth control. Who knows?

9) Most adults can't flirt to the level he can, where did he learn how to do that?

10) A lot of times, adults, regardless of gender (though it does skew more towards Male guilt more than female) don't handle rejection well. Even if they didn't seriously like the person that much, it can still be a instinctual response to either try again, or to try and bedazzle the badassery at a potential mate, or in extreme cases, try and force themselves on the other person. But Reg isn't guilty of this. If you tell him to back off, he does without question and doesn't bring that particular subject up again, when your other conpanions shut him down, he isn't offended or hurt, which is not only rather mature. But also an indicator he isn't actually chaotic evil in the way most people think about it. This (as was pointed out to me) also goes to not romantic situations, such as in battle or with his jokes.

Feel free to shoot other ideas/thoughts, factual corrections or if you want further explanation or something at me i will talk for hours.

Edit: my god there was so many spelling errors. Fixed that i think. Plus edited some statements that were pointed out to me (thanks!) And learned about him as I progressed in the game with him. Yay!

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

be careful of the curse (that falls on young lovers) [ii/iii]

After a lifetime of being caught between the forces of good and evil, Ben Solo has developed one cardinal rule to maintain control over his own life: stay the fuck away from all things supernatural.

It’s a good strategy, one that works like a charm until the day he bumps into the devil herself.

The fact that she knows exactly who he is and what he’s running from makes things difficult. The fact that he’s ridiculously into her and they might be sort of, kind of dating? That makes things dangerous.

Part I | PART II: Meet Cute - Supernatural Edition | Part III | Epilogue

It’s the Halloween chapter of my Halloween one-shot turned three-shot! (Is that a thing? I’m gonna go ahead and pretend it is.) Today: Ben’s first and only attempt to be a Good Samaritan backfires when he finds himself face-to-face with the devil herself.

Also available on AO3. Bonus backstory content here. Tumblr-only epilogue here.

be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers starts so soft and sweet- - Howl, Florence + the Machine

He manages to avoid destiny for twenty-six blissful years. Twenty-six blissful, quiet, boring as hell years, admittedly, but boring is good, boring means no one comes knocking on his door looking for the Organa boy destined to be the next High Priest or the Vader heir doomed to be the next Dark King.

It’s all ridiculous, of course – his mother still has a solid century ahead of her at the very least, and last he heard the Underworld is perfectly happy with its current leader – but everything about his life, his family, his destiny has always been ridiculous.

Life in Lake Country is the complete opposite. He lives on the very edge of his grandmother’s estate, a small caretaker’s cabin far from the main structure, and goes about his life with little to no human interaction or supernatural interruption. His days are spent gaining knowledge for knowledge’s sake without having to categorize any of it as permitted or forbidden, and once every two weeks he drives his father’s car into town to get whatever he needs to keep himself going.

It’s a peaceful life, one that is shattered into a million pieces the day he hears a plea for help on his way back to his car.

Ben stops in front of a darkened alley, strains his senses until he hears it again – a quiet, pitiful stream of desperate pleas, no I promise it wasn’t me please let me go don’t hurt me I’ll never do it again please please please. The whimpering is interrupted by a second voice, too low for him to pick up on until he hears a laugh, dark and amused and cruel, there’s no other way to describe it, and Ben sets his purchases down against a fire hydrant before he steps into the darkness.

There’s a single flickering streetlight at the end of the alley, behind a brick wall that separates it from the next street. It’s enough to illuminate a man pinned against the wall by a dark figure, slim yet strong enough to dangle her target one foot above the ground. In her other hand – it has to be a she, he can hear her voice now, all low and rich with unspoken threats – he catches a glint of metal, a curved dagger she threads between her fingers like child’s play.

“Please, please,” the man is begging, choking, gurgling on his own spit and who knows what else, “please, I don’t want to die–”

“And how do you think they felt, hmm?” the woman asks, her voice deceptively calm even as her hand moves quick as lighting, darts up to press the side of her dagger against the man’s neck.

Her accent is common enough, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Nothing about her, Ben realizes with a sinking feeling in his stomach, knows with a certainty that burns, is even remotely human.

“No, please, no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Mitchell,” she sighs, draws her arm back so that the dagger is held up high, catches the light of the flickering lamp before she brings her hand down to plunge the weapon into the man’s heart–

“Hey!” Ben shouts, and when both victim and assailant turn to look at him he uses one hand to knock the woman off her feet before he hurries towards the man.

“Thank you, oh god, thank you–”

Ben doesn’t spare the man a glance. Across the alley the woman has caught herself before the force of his blast could send her hurtling into the brick wall, and where her hand struck at the wall to steady herself a massive crack has appeared.

Their eyes meet, and Ben knows that his twenty-six year streak has come to an end.

“Get out of here,” he commands, and the man immediately breaks into a run.

The woman – demon, maybe, or witch – eyes her would-be victim’s retreating form with the slightest hint of dissatisfaction, but Ben speaks up before she can think of giving chase. “Why did you attack that man?”

“Man?” she laughs, slides her dagger into a sheath secured around her thigh and dusts off her hands before she saunters towards him, the sharp click of her heeled boots filling the empty alley. “I think you mean murderer.”

She stops five feet away from him, crosses her arms low on her chest and arches one delicate eyebrow at him, almost daring him to react, to question. Ben fears that once he starts, he won’t stop; every single thing about her leaves him with more questions than before, even more so now that she’s stepped into the moonlight and he can take in every detail of her appearance.

A human face, young even, but the ancient look in her eyes and the smirk playing on her dark lips give her away as something else, something more. Metal bands the color of gunpowder coil around her arms like snakes, and upon closer inspection the corset top he’d assumed to be leather is made of scales instead, jagged and rough and so red they’re almost black.

Dragon scales, the kind that’s so rare no amount of money or bartering will get you even a single one.

“Had your fill?” the mystery woman asks, her voice rich with amusement as she steps closer.

Ben doesn’t bother to dignify that with a comment; as if he would even think of checking a woman out after watching her nearly kill someone. “Why did you call him that - murderer?” he asks instead.

“Well, I suppose serial killer would be more accurate,” she shrugs, and suddenly the space between them has dwindled down to two feet. “Four victims, and a fifth originally planned for tonight.”

No paper route delivers to Varykino, much less the hidden cabin, but he has his ways of keeping up with local news. And lately, local news has been dominated by an unknown murderer targeting unsuspecting tourists. “That was him?”

He has absolutely no reason to believe this woman; for all he knows she could be the killer and the man was her fifth target. But the dragon scales wrapped around her body, the crack in the brick wall, the sheer energy he detects now that the world has narrowed down to just the two of them… everything about her tells him otherwise.

The woman hums in affirmation. “And now I’ll have to chase him down all over again,” she sighs, but it’s plain to see that she enjoys the prospect of it, of playing cat and mouse.

“Are you…” It’s a stupid question, but he’s willing to play dumb if it gets her to reveal even the slightest shred of information. “Are you gonna hand him over to the cops?”

She throws her head back, sends a tumble of curls falling over her shoulders as she laughs. “The police? Do I look like someone who bothers with the cops?” Her imitation of his accent is teasing, not mocking, and the question is obviously rhetorical.

“You, meanwhile…” the woman muses, eliminates all distance between them to pluck at the collar of his shirt before she dances her fingers down his chest, hooks her slim pointer finger into the belt loop of his jeans. “You almost look like someone who would call the police… but we both know you don’t need any help, do you?”

So much for playing dumb.

“I’ve always known there are still Force users around, but I never thought I’d find one in this sleepy little town,” she comments, finally drawing her hand away.

“And what brings you here?” Ben asks, evading that line of conversation. The woman shots him a little smirk, a barely-there curl of her lips that tells him she knows exactly what he’s doing.

She steps back. “Our mutual friend the serial killer, of course. Speaking of which, I should really get back to that.” Her eyes flash with a challenge, and Ben stares at her for all of ten seconds before he suppresses a sigh and nods.

“I guess you should.” Obviously the cops haven’t had any luck in tracking the guy down, and it’s not like he’s eager to offer his help to the townspeople. One less killer is one less killer, no matter how it goes down. He wonders again just what she is, what kind of unpleasant end the man will meet. Demon or witch or whatever, it’s clear that she’ll delight in her kill, take her time with it.

The woman acknowledges his words with a nod, gives him a smile that looks almost human. “But first,” she murmurs and, faster than his eyes can track, one manicured finger presses into his neck and breaks his skin to collect a bead of blood.

“What the fu–”

“Now I’ll be able to find you no matter where you go,” she tells him with a pleased little smirk, makes a show of sucking on her bloodied finger.

By the time Ben processes the fact that he’s very, very inappropriately turned on by that, the woman is long gone, leaving only the faintest trace of smoke lingering in the air.

Ben spends the next few days fortifying his little cabin with every protective spell and masking charm he can think of, but he knows it’s a futile effort. Anyone who can blood-track like that will also have the foresight and the ability to use his own blood against him and slip past all of his barriers. 

Sure enough, the woman shows up unannounced in his kitchen five days later, and there isn’t even the slightest ripple of a disturbance in the Force to warn him.

“Hello, Ben Solo,” she smirks, hops up on his kitchen counter and makes herself comfortable.

He freezes, half bent over to pick up the knife he’d dropped upon her arrival. “How–?”

When he looks up, she cocks her head to the side and taps at her left temple. “There’s not that many of us left in the Force. And you, burning brighter than anyone else… you were easy to find, once I knew to look for you.”

Easy, she says, as if he hasn’t been shielding his Force signature since childhood, as if he and Luke didn’t dedicate years to researching the ideal cloaking method. It’s no secret that the Skywalkers, whether by name or by blood, are all Force-gifted, but all Ben wanted as a child was to pass for just another warlock, just an ordinary spell-caster or potion-brewer. For a time, hidden by his father’s name and his uncle’s shields, he’d been able to do just that.

After his uncle’s shields faltered and his mother’s name came to light, after the dust had settled, Ben immediately set to work on forming and putting up shields of his own, a cloak that he’s kept up ever since. For this woman – demon or witch or whatever, it doesn’t matter, for her to say it was easy to find him and slip into his home just like that…

“Who are you?” Ben intends to demand, but finds himself asking in hushed awe instead.

“You could find the answer to that yourself, if you tried,” she shrugs, tapping once again at her temple. “But I could give you a hint, if you’d like.”

He nods, and waits until her pointed look makes him realize– “Please.”

She has the smuggest look when she’s pleased, especially at his expense, and Ben has dreamed of kissing that smirk off her face at least twice in the past five days. Apparently twenty-six years of solitude and celibacy have their consequences.

“There we go,” she grins, and goes on to casually announce, “Your grandfather killed mine.”

Ben ignores the unreasonable stab of guilt he feels at that. She’s clearly over it, if the look on her face is anything to go by, and he is not his uncle, he will not take on the weight of Vader’s sins, will not live in Vader’s shadow. “That…” he says instead, “doesn’t really narrow it down. My grandfather killed a lot of people,” and here he does allow himself the slightest hint of a helpless, apologetic shrug. It’s only polite.

“No need to brag,” she teases him, an actual grin on her lips. “All right, how about this: our grandfathers killed each other.”

Whatever ease Ben felt around her, whatever odd sense of calm he’s let her lull him into – it vanishes into thin air as realization washes over him like a bucket of ice water. “But that would mean… that would make you…”

She nods.

“You’re Palpatine’s granddaughter?”

Another nod, casual as can be with the tiniest hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she watches everything fall into place in his mind.

“Stars,” Ben groans, drags a heavy hand down his face. “You’re Kira Ren. You’re the devil, and you’re sitting on my countertop swinging your legs like– like–” like something out of a dream he can now never, ever admit to having.

“Well,” she – Kira – frowns and crosses her arms. “Devil’s a bit outdated, don’t you think? And a misnomer, too. Everyone always conflates Hell and the Underworld, and they get all of these ideas about me being in charge of the afterlife–”

In that moment, Ben can’t help himself. “You aren’t?” he asks, unable to bite back his curiosity.

Kira rolls her eyes. “I’m the Queen of Darkness, not the Goddess of Death,” she scoffs. “And sure, I suppose you could call some of my subjects demons, and I guess that makes me the devil, but… it just doesn’t feel right, you know?”

He looks at her, this terrifying woman who holds a primordial darkness in her eyes and wears blood on her lips but glows under the sun and swings her legs like a child, and– “Yeah, I get it.”

She beams at him, actually smiles, and Ben knows in that instant that he is screwed.

“But enough about me,” Kira hops off the counter, walks up to him. “What about you, Ben Solo? Blood of Vader, heir to Light and Dark, hiding away in a tiny hut in the ruins of your grandmother’s palace–”

“Cabin,” Ben huffs, crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s a cabin, and Varykino is not in ruins, it’s just a little rundown–” He does his best to fix that, spends at least one day a week trying to restore his grandmother’s home to its former glory, but there’s not much he can do for the exterior if he doesn’t want to alert anyone to his presence.

Kira raises a brow at him. “That’s the part you choose to focus on? Really?” Her voice is dancing with laughter, and it really is like something out of a dream, this odd interaction between them that’s nothing at all like their first meeting–

–so much so that it makes him suspicious.

“So you know who I am,” he says carefully, watches her catch on to the change in atmosphere and adjust immediately as her smile disappears. “Why are you here, Kira Ren?”

The devil considers him with a slight tilt of her head, gnaws on her lower lip for a moment. “Call me Rey,” she murmurs at long last.

It’s not the answer he’d been expecting. She’s been pretty direct so far; why not just come right out with it and give him the same spiel every other Darksider he’s ever met usually does? What a waste of your grandfather’s legacy, what a waste of your destiny, it is your duty, you must finish what Vader started, you must you must you must–

Instead, he’s left with a name.

“Nickname?” he asks casually, leaning back against the sink.

Kira shakes her head, offers him a hesitant smile. It’s… unfamiliar on her, but not wrong, not out of place. “Name.”

His suspicion flares up with a vengeance, but something else – whatever it is that’s kept her in his mind all these days and nights – smothers it and curls in his belly instead, warm and content. “You’re… you’re giving me your real name?”

“Consider it a gesture of good faith,” Rey tells him. “There’s something about you, Ben Solo. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but congratulations, you are now one of only four living individuals in existence to know my real name.”

It’s too much, too fast, too much, his suspicion insists. Nothing in this world is ever free; this Ben knows better than anything else, was practically weaned on Council dealings, on trades and favors and exchanges.

“And what do you want in return?”

Rey smiles, and finally he sees a hint of the woman he first met, something sharp and deadly in the curve of her lips. “All I ask for in return,” she says quietly, closes the distance between them and trails her fingers down his chest in an echo of that night, “is that you help me finish what you so rudely interrupted the other evening.”

It’s hard to think, with her hand moving ever lower, but the cogs in Ben’s suspicious mind start to turn anyway. “The serial killer? You’re telling me you haven’t caught him yet?”

Any ordinary demon could have caught and killed that guy a dozen times by now. The devil herself? She could have tortured him to death fifty different ways in half that time.

“I know where he is,” Rey admits, “but I thought that maybe you and I could make a night of it, take care of business and then see where the evening takes us…”

He catches her hand just as it moves below his belt buckle. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

She turns her hand around in his, rubs the pad of her thumb against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist. “Is it working?”

If he were just a guy, and she were just a girl… But he has the devil in his kitchen, and she’s asking him to commit murder with her. “You know about the curse,” Ben surmises in a flat tone, and tries his best to ignore the little pang of disappointment that accompanies his realization. Even having a demon seduce him just for the bragging rights of having fucked Vader’s grandson would have been better than this. He pulls his hand out of hers and puts some space between them. “You know what the price is.”

“Oh well,” Rey shrugs, follows after him and forces him to retreat until he’s backed up against the wall. “It was worth a shot.”

So this is it, then, this is where she decides to cut her losses and kill him, can’t have someone running around knowing her real name if he’s not going to swear allegiance to her–

Rey spins around on her heel. “So, can I stay for lunch?”

This woman is going to be the goddamn death of him, one way or another. “Wha– what?”

“Lunch,” Rey repeats patiently, gesturing at his abandoned chopping board. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in decades, and I think we’ll get along quite well now that there are no more secrets between us.”

The smart thing to do would be to kick her out, as politely as possible, and then swallow his pride and call his uncle for the first time since the funeral to ask him how one deals with the devil. After all, Luke’s dealt with two in his lifetime.

But Rey picks up the knife he failed to retrieve earlier, rinses it off and starts working on his half-diced tomatoes, and twenty-six years of loneliness suddenly hit him with all the force of a backfired hex.

“No more tricks, right?” Ben finds himself asking, crosses his arms and gives her his sternest look when she turns to him.

Rey smiles, and he can’t find a single trace of Kira Ren in her, sees only the way the sunlight pouring in from the kitchen window turns her eyes hazel and brings out the auburn in her hair.

“No more tricks, I promise.”

So he lets her stay, and a few days later he lets her back, and at some point Ben realizes he’s become friends with the devil.

Rey shows up one day with dark circles around her eyes rather than liner, swimming in a baggy tunic instead of her usual form-fitting outfits. After six months of friendship, Ben likes to think that he would’ve noticed something amiss even without these huge giveaways. 

“Hey,” he calls gently, and holds his arms wide open as Rey makes her way over from the kitchen. She tucks herself into his side immediately, folding her bare legs underneath her as she rests her head on Ben’s shoulder. The devil, as he’s come to discover over these past few months, will take affection wherever and whenever she can get it. After twenty-six years of zero physical contact with another living person, Ben hardly minds indulging her.

“Long day?”

Rey slides her head down to his chest with a sigh. “It’s fucking Mustafar again. They’ve refused to even negotiate a possible return.”

It still makes him uneasy, knowing that Rey is trying to reunify her grandfather’s fractured empire while he stands by and does nothing; worse than nothing, even, since he’s deliberately withholding this information from his family and actively offering her a place to rest and recharge in between diplomatic visits. And now he’s listening to her vent about his grandfather’s former stronghold, where those who remain loyal to Vader have formed a cult-slash-kingdom in his memory.

“But…” Ben scrunches up his features in confusion. “You’re their Queen. The rightful Empress. If they’re so loyal to the old kings, then why won’t they obey you?”

“Rightful?” Rey scoffs. “Not in their eyes. Palpatine never legitimized my mother and chose to declare Vader as his heir instead. These fanatics think that makes you, not me, the rightful ruler of the Underworld.”

Ben can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes him. “Me?” he asks incredulously. “But I’m not even a demon!”

Rey shrugs, one sharp shoulder digging into his chest as she does. “Vader didn’t fall to the Dark side until later on in life. I guess they’re hoping history might repeat itself with you.”

Somehow, even with an actual demon popping by his home nearly every other day, Ben’s managed to block out the unpleasant reality that there are those who still hope he’ll give in to the curse. The reminder makes his blood run cold. “Well, I hope they enjoy disappointment then, because that’s never happening,” he vows.

“Right,” Rey murmurs after a beat, tenses in his arms before she wriggles away. Her back is ramrod straight as she fixes her eyes on the TV before them, some mindless sitcom he’d put on for background noise, but he catches sight of one hand fiddling with the hem of her tunic. Ben reaches out, laces their fingers together before he uses his free hand to gently guide her eyes to his.

“Hey, what is it?”

“Nothing,” Rey mumbles, and fights against his loose hold to turn her head back to the TV. Her hand remains in his though, and Ben gives her a gentle squeeze before he tries again, driven by the dullness he’d glimpsed in her usually-twinkling eyes.

“Rey, c’mon,” he coaxes her, turns the TV off with a thought and ignores her indignant hey! as he moves to better face her. “You can tell me anything.” If only his mother could see him now, holding hands with the devil herself while he tries to encourage her to confide in him.

Rey shifts to mirror his position, but fixes her eyes somewhere on his chest rather than meeting his gaze. “It’s stupid,” she mutters, but when Ben just waits patiently and squeezes her hand again, Rey draws in a fortifying breath and slowly looks up at him as she exhales.

“I want to court you.”

There’s a ringing in his ears, as if her revelation is some kind of bomb detonated too close to his head, his heart.

“What?” Ben hears himself asking dumbly, blood rushing in his ears now and making everything else sound so impossibly distant, so impossible period.

“Told you it’s stupid,” Rey huffs, tries to snatch her hand out of his. After her third attempt is met with him tightening his grip on her yet again, a glint of stubbornness worms its way into her eyes and she charges ahead with the kind of bullish determination that could only come from someone trying to single-handedly restore her grandfather’s sprawling empire. “I want to court you, Ben Solo,” she declares firmly, pins him with a look that’s all business. “I’d also like to marry you someday, I think, and possibly start a family with you.” 

The ringing in his ears swells into a roar. “Oh,” Ben whispers. “Oh,” he echoes two seconds later, when he can hear his own heartbeat again and a smile takes over his face.

Rey allows the tension to seep away, and looks up at him with a smile that’s almost… shy.

“Kinda feels like I should be the one courting you,” Ben muses out loud, still lost in her eyes and her smile and her words, words that hint at a possibility he’s only ever allowed himself to entertain in daydreams.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Ben,” Rey reminds him with a roll of her eyes. “A woman can do the courting–”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he hurries to assure her. “It’s just… you’re the Queen, shouldn’t I have to prove myself worthy of you or something?”

She brings one hand up to cup Ben’s cheek, curves her lips into something that makes his heart hurt in the best way possible. “You already are,” Rey murmurs. “Besides,” she adds after a beat, after the moment has settled deep into their bones, “I’m the one who has to convince you to be my consort–”

Her hand falls back down to her side, and Ben’s own grip goes slack.

Consort.

To the Queen of the Underworld.

“Oh,” he whispers in realization, and this is crueler than any dream his foolish heart could ever hope to come up with.

“If you…” Rey says shakily, closes her eyes and centers herself with a deep breath. “I want you with me, Ben, always, but if you’re so adamant that the Underworld could never be your home then…”

Ben knows a little something about conflict, fancies himself something of an expert even. Conflict is being torn in two directions before you’re even old enough to know the cardinal ones, conflict is your uncle vilifying the grandfather you never knew while a voice in your head sings his accolades, conflict is your mother telling you that you’re destined for greatness but no, Ben, not that way–

Conflict is an ever-present condition of his existence, something Ben has learned to deal with the way he deals with all of the most important things in his life: avoidance, ignorance, denial. But this – Rey right in front of him, offering him her heart in one hand and his doom in the other… this cannot be denied.

Rey tips forward, falls into him and pins him against the arm of his sofa. “Think of what we could be together,” she murmurs, nuzzling his neck as her fingers slide into his hair. “My Emperor, our empire…”

He closes his eyes, lets out a shuddery breath. “Rey,” Ben chokes out, “what you’re asking me to do… what you’re planning to do… you’re giving yourself over to the Dark, Rey. And I can’t– I can’t,” don’t be like Vader, don’t ask about Vader, just like Vader, too much Vader in him, all his damn life a trap lying in wait and now this, the sweetest bait, the only reason he would ever have to fall but still– “I can’t follow you down that path.”

She recoils from him, pushes at his chest with a burst of energy as her eyes blaze with fury and disappointment and hurt. “I don’t have to give anything to the Dark, Ben. It’s mine, it’s always been mine to command, mine to control, not the other way around, never the other way around and if you’d just open your eyes and see–”

Years ago, days after the first time he heard his mother fretting about him and Vader and so much anger, Luke, his uncle spirited him away and imparted upon Ben his very first lesson about the Force. He’s slow to recall it now, long-forgotten words clumsy and unfamiliar on his tongue. “The Force is never ours, Rey. Light, Dark, all of it – it’s not ours to control, only ours to channel. It flows through us, its will accomplished using us, controlling us–”

Rey springs to her feet. “You are so scared!” she growls, voice raised in frustration. “You think the only way to stay safe, to honor your father, is to reject all of it, to remove yourself from temptation entirely. But,” and here she softens, comes to kneel next to him and take his hands in her own, “there’s another way, Ben. If you’d just let me show you the in-between, the balance, then you’d see…”

“Balance is a myth, Rey,” he tells her as gently as possible, turns their hands so that he’s the one holding her in place now. “There are those who’ve tried, but it’s arrogance, it’s hubris to think that any of us could ever stand between Light and Dark and command them both without having to give something in return, without succumbing to one side or the other–”

“Do you think I don’t understand that?” Rey hisses, digs her nails into his palms. “Do you think I don’t know the struggle, the pull? Always, always lurking in the dark, waiting for the slightest slip-up, ready to crash over you like a wave and pull you into the inky depths – do you think I don’t know the chill of a dark manacle on my ankle always?”

He has never, ever seen her like this, eyes feverish with a fear, a burden, a nightmare no one has ever been able to put into words for him. “Rey, how–?”

“My grandfather was a demon, just like yours,” she begins evenly. “My grandmother was a healer, just like yours,” and this is news to him but then again she never talks about her family, about anything from before, especially not– “and my father was mortal, just like yours.”

“But that means–” Ben falters, looks at her, really looks, and thinks of Kira Ren the night they met, of the ancient darkness in her eyes and the wild energy hidden just beneath the surface. “You weren’t born a demon?”

Rey, still on her knees, shakes her head and entrusts him with another secret that could jeopardize everything she’s worked so hard to establish over the past few decades. “My mother’s powers never manifested, and my father was human. I was human too, at first.”

Human. Rey, Kira Ren, would-be Empress of all the Dark Realms, was human once, something not even Ben can claim. But here she is now, and there’s only one way–

Ben’s heart aches for her, for the tragedy he knows nothing about but thinks he understands completely. “Rey,” he whispers thickly, looks into her wide eyes and tries to picture her before, tries to picture her if only. “You… you carried it too. The curse–”

“–was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Rey insists, shatters his illusions about her with no hesitation. She’s never tried to hide what she is from him, after all, never claimed to be anything less than the merciless Queen of the Underworld, an army of demons at her beck and call, an endless flood of blood on her hands–

And yet she comes to him when she’s at her most vulnerable, and digs her bare feet into grass with childlike glee, and says heartbreakingly human things like– “Until you. You, Ben… I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. Maybe I don’t, maybe I never will. But you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to lose you.”

He moves to join her on the floor, slides off the sofa and gets on his knees in front of her, and Rey doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his waist and press their foreheads together.

“Please, Ben,” she murmurs a hair’s breadth away from his lips, so close but not close enough, “please don’t say no, not yet. Just… think about it. Please.”

“I–” a lump rises in his throat, makes it impossible for him to offer her empty promises about finding a way, overcoming it all, to hell with Light and Dark and all of it, I just want you– “I’ll think about it,” Ben says, the best he can do yet not enough. Rey sighs, a tremulous little thing, and separates them.

“That’s all I ask,” she smiles, nothing like the wickedly sharp smirks of Kira or the blindingly bright grins of Rey, just a ghost of what it should be. He watches her stand, watches her smooth down her tunic and gather energy for a portal–

“Wait!” Ben stumbles to his feet, nearly falls as he lurches forward to take Rey’s hand.

“Ben?”

His heart is beating faster than it did the day he realized exactly who she was, faster than it does whenever she leans in a little too close or looks at his lips a little too long. “I… I don’t know what I think about balance,” he tells her slowly, hesitantly. “I don’t know if your way is the right way, or if any of this is even possible. I don’t know if rebuilding the empire is the right thing to do, and I don’t know if I could ever help you with that.”

“Don’t,” Rey whispers, shakes her head. “Don’t do this, you said you’d think about it first, don’t say no–”

He brings their joined hands to his lips, presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I’m not sure about any of this, Rey, but I am sure that I want to be with you.”

The devil lets out a sob, and it’s the most heartbreaking, beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Her eyes shine with tears he knows she won’t let fall, and her smile is nearly a grimace as she tries to contain herself, but she lets him wrap an arm around her waist and tug her closer anyway.

“I want to be with you no matter what,” Ben sighs, leans his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. “Can that be enough, Rey? Just for now?”

Silence stretches on for two seconds, for a lifetime, for a heartbeat, for eternity–

“For now,” Rey whispers against his lips, and kisses him.

So there’s devil!Rey, I hope you guys are as drawn to her as I am.

If she seems all over the place... there’s a reason for that, I promise, and I can’t wait for you guys (and Ben!) to find out what it is. Which you will, soon enough, because the third and final chapter will be posted tomorrow!

Until then, thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it, and Happy Halloween! As always, please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment.

[f-l-writes]

Light Needs Darkness to Shine

Warnings: not proofread, swearing

Word Count: 3.8K

Hope you enjoy and feel free to request! (Spooktober Writing List) (Ask Box)

Buy Me a Coffee!

@wxngyxkhei

You sighed as you adjusted the belt around your hips, checking to make sure your guns and taser were in place. For you, this was a normal call. A few delinquents out and about vandalizing shit in uptown Seoul. If you were being honest, you were getting kind of bored of the whole thing. While there were things that led to excitement and such, it wasn’t very often and more likely than not, your calls left you more annoyed than anything.

Now, as you made your way to your car and climbed in, you went over what your commanding officer had said when he had called you. Five delinquents out by the fancy apartments uptown. Some graffiti on the walls and extremely annoyed people.

Of course you had to get stuck with the boring bits. You almost rolled your eyes as you started the car, making your way out of the stations parking lot and towards where you needed to be.

Arriving several minutes later, you parked the car far enough away as to not get seen immediately before getting out and making the walk up to where the apartments were being vandalized. Turning the corner, you could tell that one of the kids had spotted you as he ushered for his friends to pack up and run. Immediately, you began to move quicker, picking up into a sprint as they began to run, taking the back way away from the apartments.

As you ran, you grumbled under your breath, following them around a corner. Just as you rounded it, you saw the white haired kid slip into a small window that, undoubtedly dropped into the basement of whatever building the window belonged to. Slipping through with slight difficulty due to your belt, you finally dropped onto the basement floor, eyes adjusting to the dark as quickly as they could as you looked around for any of the kids you were supposed to be dealing with.

Just as you turned, after having heard someone behind you, you were struck with a bat. The force that was used caused you to crumple to the ground, knocking you out quickly. The last thing that went through your mind in your final moments of consciousness was this call just got a whole lot more interesting…

When you finally came around, you were no longer in the basement of the building you had followed those five kids into. Instead, you were seated in a dimly lit room, a single man in front you that was visibly a few years older than the five kids you had been chasing. You could no longer feel the weight of your belt resting on your hips and could tell that you were stripped down to the tee shirt you were wearing under your uniform and vest.

Having found comfort in those clothes, you felt extremely exposed. Especially under the piercing gaze of the man before you. In the dimness of the room, you couldn’t make out much about him aside from the color of his hair and what he was wearing. His attire surprised you, to say the least. He was wearing a black suit and tie, his hair done neatly.

Overall, it was a nice look. However, what wasn’t nice, was that you recognized him. Not on a personal level, but you were one of the agents of your police department to follow around and make note of the most notorious gang in Seoul. Of course, you hadn’t been able to go out as much and deal with the gang yourself since the loss of a fellow agent a few months prior. They had grown scared of losing anymore agents.

“Dream…” you muttered, your mind fluttering back to the kids who were vandalizing the wall of apartment complex.

“Excuse me?” the man, who you recognized from photos as Jung Yoon Oh, otherwise known as Jae Hyun.

“Those five kids… They were part of Dream. Drug dealers…”

“And this is why they brought you to me. We know who you are and we know who follows us, even if you think we don’t, Y/N. Or would you prefer agent 812? Whatever floats your boat,” Yoon Oh stated.

“As soon as I get-”

“Who said you were getting out? You already know too much as it is. After all, you were assigned our case weren’t you?”

“But I was taken off! I hardly know anything. If you really wanted to catch someone with information, target agent 772. Not me!”

“You worked with them. Anything you know is too much, 812.”

“What are you going to do, then? Huh, Yoon Oh? If you kill me, they will trace it back to you. They will find your hideout and they will kill you.”

“I don’t want to kill you, agent. I want you to join us. You already know there’s no point in you refusing us. Just like you have ears and eyes on us, we have ears and eyes on you. Both in the station and around Seoul. We’ve heard your complaints. Your annoyance at not being given the chance to take us on yourselves. So, if they won’t give you that, why not be a part of it? We know you’re a particularly good shot. Almost rival WinWin. So why not put it to use?”

“Tempting but I’m going to have to refuse,” you responded, eyes narrowing as you looked at Yoon Oh.

“It’s not a request anymore, love. You’re going to do what we ask of you. Whether you comply and do it easily or put up a fight isn’t a big deal. You will be doing what we say.”

“And what makes you think so? You could have a gun to my head telling me to shoot a fellow agent and I wouldn’t do it,” you snapped at him.

“You wouldn’t do it even under the words of a so-called fellow agent? Or i guess in this case, a lost agent.”

Your eyes widened fractionally as the door opened, revealing agent 253. Unfortunately, anyone on the case wasn’t allowed to know one another’s name so you had no clue what hers was but now it didn’t matter. She was made an enemy despite the amount of times you had talked to her- both about the case and about personal things.

“Hey, 812. I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this,” she began, a mock look of pity on her face.

“What the hell? Why the fuck did you join the case? Are you out of your damn mind?”

“Maybe but they’ve given me a lot more opportunities to do things than the agency did,” 253 responded. “I would say take the chance. It may be illegal but there’s no stopping them now. Not when they’ve got eyes all over the city. Hell, all over the country. I know how much you hated being taken off the case so let this be your chance to be back on it. Just on the other side.”

Your mind felt clouded. With your entire being you wanted to be back on the case. But you didn’t want to be the case. You wanted to solve it. To take them out. That’s why you had requested to be put on it in the first place. Yet here you were, unsure of where you stood anymore.

The idea of being back, even on the other side, was intoxicating. At least here, you’d be able to participate in things. You’d be able to do something outside of sitting around waiting for an all-call. Here, you could be you. You could let yourself go without the restriction of heavy rules. There, you had to deal with that. You couldn’t do what you felt was necessary.

“They seem a bit troubled now,” Yoon Oh commented, a chuckle passing by his lips.

“I think they know that it’s better here than it is there. They just aren’t ready to admit it. Right, 812?”

“Shut up,” you snapped. “You’re nothing but a goddamn traitor! This case-”

“This case is a case that meant so much to you but you got taken off of. Don’t you want that revenge? The control that they wouldn’t give you?”

“This case is worth waiting on… We only have so many agents left. I can’t let you get to my head.”

Agent 253 shook her head, turning to Yoon Oh before she spoke. “Leave them overnight. They’ll come to their senses come morning.”

With that, the two walked out, Yoon Oh shutting off the only source of light in the room. From there, it was you versus the ropes that bound you to the chair. As you played with them, hoping to find a loop where you could squeeze even one hand out, you continued to grow more frustrated- both with the ropes and the thought that continued to fester in your head.

They weren’t completely wrong, were they? They had taken you off the case and, even with the dwindling amount of agents on the case, they refused to put you back on. It didn’t make any sense to you and it was admittedly frustrating. Who were they to hold you back? For all they knew you could be the one to break the case!

Stopping on the rope for a moment as you felt blood beginning to drop from the slices in your wrist you were causing from your struggle, you leaned your head back and let out a loud sigh.

“Fuck them,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

Did you want to join the enemy? No. It meant betraying the people who you had grown close to but… where was your future going with the police department? You were stuck between three walls and the only way out was to go backwards. Maybe NCT would be your way to climb up. Show them you were better than they thought. They may not value your efforts but, if you were given the chance here, you were sure you would be valued.

With that thought on your mind, you let yourself drift off, unaware of how tired you had really been up until that moment.

Letting out a hiss when you felt light hit your eyes come morning, you cracked them open to see Yoon Oh standing in front of you, a smirk decorating that undeniably handsome face of his.

“Make your decision, sunshine?” he questioned, cocking a brow.

“Unfortunately so,” you grumbled, cracking your neck in hopes of relieving the ache from the horrible sleeping position the night before.

Now it was a matter of whether you would fight him despite your real decision or just go along with what you wanted to do.

“You’ll state it in front of Tae Yong then. If you agree, he’ll test your skills with targets we have set up around the main room and then he’ll decide whether we really need you.”

“We could have just done this shit yesterday,” you mumbled as Yoon Oh went behind you to undo your binds.

“We could have but you wanted to put up a fight, “ he retorted, dropping the ropes and letting you stand and stretch for a moment before he led you to the door. Upon stepping out, you were greeted with 10 other people in the living room and a series of wooden dummies placed around the rather large yet someone bloodstained living room.

“What have you decided?” one of the men, who recognized from photos as Tae Yong, spoke up.

“I’ll show you what I’ve got. You decide from there,” you commented, keeping your eyes on the man.

He smiled before he reached behind him, taking your gun out of your stolen belt before passing it to you. “You choose the order in which you shoot. If you can headshot 7 out of 10, we’ll let you in.”

Internally, you scoffed. This was your forte. You would show them that you were better than just seven out of ten. Turning, you decided to work your way down from the hardest to the easiest. Carefully aiming your gun at the the somewhat hidden wooden dummy, you fired your first shot and from there you worked like lightning. By the time forty seconds was over, you had targeted and fired at the ten dummies. When they were brought before you, it had been noted that you had, in fact, struck all ten straight in the head. Passing the gun back, you couldn’t help but to let a cocky smirk light up your features as you crossed your arms, looking back at Tae Yong.

He seemed impressed as he inspected the bullet holes, each one a clear shot through the center of the skull. Sure, it would be harder with moving targets but it was good enough for now to get a measure of skill.

“What do you want us to call you, then?” Tae Yong questioned, his eyes burrowing holes into your soul.

“Just call me 812. My name isn’t needed.”

Tae Yong nodded as he looked over to Yoon Oh. A silent conversation passed between them before Yoon Oh motioned for you to follow him. Doing as he asked, you fell into step beside him as he led you down a hallway lined with doors. Once you reached the final door, simply painted blue, he pushed it open to reveal a well furnished room that looked fairly clean (save for a few clothes strewn about) and smelled of men’s cologne.

“You’ll be staying with me unless you have any serious objections. Tomorrow, me and you are going out on a deal. WinWin, Yuta, and Johnny will be there as well,” he informed, watching as you nodded your head, stepping into the room.

“After the deal, we’ll make a stop by your place to get your clothes and, if you have any, your pets and other essentials.”

“Why don’t you guys just live at your own places?” you questioned, turning to face Yoon Oh as he closed the door behind him, walking over to his walk-in closet and pulling down a shirt as he responded.

“It’s safer to bond together instead of living alone. If we did, we’d be targeted more easily and more susceptible to being attacked and our property being damaged,” he explained, turning towards you as he finally began to pull the shirt over his head.

Your face flushed as you turned away, nodding. “I see. But what if someone finds this place?”

“It’s guarded. Along with that, we know those agents are too scared to actually come try to find this place.”

You felt a chill run down your spine. Those agents. You were no longer grouped with them but why did you feel anger at that words?

“Right,” you muttered, eyes looking over the rest of the man’s room before you decided to perch yourself at the edge of his bed.

“So, what do you want to do to waste time till tomorrow since I don’t have any deals or busts to make?”

“I don’t know… Your file…” you trailed off, feeling like you shouldn’t say anything about the files seeing as you would probably end up being a part of them now.

“Say all you want about the files. They’re not your problem anymore.”

“Your file says there’s a lake that you like to go to… why don’t we go there?” you recommended, your previous blush coming back full-force.

“Then let’s get a move on, love.”

With that, the two of you were off.

Arriving back to the hideout later that night, you had gotten to realize just how nice Yoon Oh really was. Inside of the tough gangster exterior, was a sweet guy with a love for little pet names for his friends. He didn’t like to think about work on the days he wasn’t doing anything and, as you had learned, he spent most of his time down by the lake the two of you had visited. While you had been there, you got to know more about him and he got to know more about you.

Sure, there was some tension still, but it was finally settling down. Before long, it was undoubted that the two of you would be best friends. Or something else, a voice inside your head pestered, causing your heart to pick up some speed and your face to flush. There was no way that was going to happen. Even if you liked him, which it was far too early on to tell, there was no way in hell he could ever like you back like that.

“You good?” his voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Y-yeah, sorry. Just spacing out.”

“Get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow,” he commented, watching as you nodded, crawling into the king sized bed he owned before slipping beneath the covers.

Yoon Oh couldn’t help but to watch you as you fell asleep, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He was certain he was happy about you joining the team.

You were awoken by Yoon Oh grabbing your legs to pull you out of the bed. While he simply could have just opened the curtains, you couldn’t help but to note that this seemed to be a fairly effective method as well.

Sitting up, you gently pushed the man away from you before following his finger to where it pointed at a pile of clothes. They seemed too small to be Yoon Oh’s size, leading you to believe that they were either Tae Yong’s or one of the members of Dream. Either that or he got them from one of the others who weren’t necessarily part of the group. Mumbling a thanks, you grabbed the clothes as he directed you towards the bathroom so you could grab a shower.

“Let me know if they fit!” he stated as the door closed and you quickly got to starting the water.

You didn’t bother to respond, only focused on cleaning off two days worth of grime off of your being. Once you were stripped of your clothes, you stepped into the warm, running water, letting it wash the tenseness from your body down the drain. You could feel your knees almost buckle under the pleasurable feeling, a relaxed sigh letting itself fall from your lips.

After you had finally managed to compose yourself, you got to washing your body and hair before shutting the water off and stepping out of the shower, quickly drying yourself off and getting dressed. Though the clothes were a little big, they were bearable and quite honestly pretty comfortable as well.

Walking back out into Yoon Oh’s room, you saw him sitting on his bed with a framed photo in his hands, an almost melancholy smile on his face as his finger brushed over the photograph. Walking over, you sat down beside him, leaning over slightly to look at the photo. It was a photo of him and a girl smiling happily into a camera, arms clasped around one anothers waist.

“Who’s that?” you questioned, your eyes returning to the girl.

“An old girlfriend. She unfortunately got caught up with an opposing gang and got shot…” he responded, putting the photo back into the drawer he had pulled it out from. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, standing and following the male out of the room.

When the two of you had left the house, you didn’t think the day would go as fast as it would. Before you knew it, you were back at your own house, packing up clothes and other necessities that you needed. You chose a few photos to bring with you as well, though you probably wouldn’t ever actually put them up. After all, they were of you and your current boyfriend. You didn’t need to explain that to Yoon Oh.

Even if your boyfriend wasn’t around often, you still loved him. Possibly less than you did when you first started dating him, but you still loved him nonetheless. He had been always been there for you. Ever since high school. You’re starting to sound like you’re trying to convince yourself. You scolded yourself, looking down at the photo of your boyfriend before shoving it into the bag that you were packing to take to the hideout.

When you were finally done, you and Yoon Oh were on your way. As you walked out the door, you couldn’t help but to want to linger behind a little longer despite knowing the risks of doing so. You just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind the house that you had lived in for so long. But alas, you were forced out the door and to the van that would take your to your new home.

About four months had passed since you first got into the gang. Since then, you had proved to be a better shot in action than at a standstill and you had also proven yourself to be an effective dealer. You were often brought along when one of the other boys didn’t want to do the bodyguard job and you were always there by Yoon Oh’s side.

As the days dragged on, you knew that you were becoming more and more infatuated with Yoon Oh. And while this was going on, you had ended up breaking up with your boyfriend. Not because of Yoon Oh, but because he was accusing you of cheating on him. How he had gotten that idea, you had no idea, but you found it more amusing that anything, even as you decided to break up with him.

Now, nearing the end of the month of May, you found yourself sitting beside Yoon Oh as the two of you watched videos on his phone. Neither of you needing to do anything that day. As you looked over at him, you couldn’t help but to feel your heart speed up as you did the unthinkable. Leaning over, you pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips. You didn’t think he would kiss back but, when he did, you were caught in a feeling of bliss and euphoria, your stomach exploding with butterflies.

When you finally pulled away, you could see Yoon Oh smiling up at you from your position of being halfway on top of him. You could feel the heat in your cheeks full force now as you looked down at him, your own lips stretching to form a smile.

“I was hoping you would do that sooner, love,” he muttered, pulling you down for another kiss.

Breaking away again, you remained close as you mumbled into his mouth. “Trust me, I’ve been wanting to, Yoon Oh. I just wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“So cute,” he muttered, letting himself relish in the feeling of you on top of him and the feeling of your lips against his own.

“So… are we thing or is this just going to be a benefits thing?”

“You’re definitely mine. I couldn’t bear to share you,” he chuckled, his eyes fluttering closed as he spoke, lashes tickling your cheeks.

“Glad we’re on the same page then,” you responded, rolling off of him only to move closer, your hand draping around his midsection as you cuddled into his side, happiness filling you.

You’d found someone in the darkest of places but perhaps he would be your guiding light here.

[dean-we-talked-about-this]

Wendigos and Slurpies

“Nothing like a good, old-fashioned, salt and burn case. Amiright? Ya’ find the thing and ya’ burn the thing.” Dean commented over the music. He drummed his fingers along the leather of the Impala’s steering wheel in time with an old AC/DC song. “No living in the friggin library or making deals with some fancy demon! Or dealing with archangels or gods or risking your life over something stupid!”

Castiel rolled his eyes from the passenger seat before reaching towards the radio. He turned the volume knob until he felt the heavy bass in his angelic bones and tuned out his dim-witted hunter. Because the thing is, this ‘simple salt and burn’ wasn’t a simple salt and burn. Cas tagged along to get some fresh air, not to watch Dean get beaten half to death by a wendigo. But, the hunter, as gorgeous as he may be, didn’t always use his brain at appropriate times. He saw the slightest chance at a case and bolted for the keys to the Impala.

They followed the sheriff to the crime scene that lay on the skirts of a camping ground. Then pulled out their badges and IDs as they poked and prodded for any kind of 'supernatural’ signs. Talking with the victim’s family was always a bit more of a delicate procedure. It left Dean to sweet talk some more information out of the grieving people. At the back of his mind, Cas knew it wasn’t a spirit trapped in the veil trying to make it’s way to heaven. Dean didn’t even fathom the idea that it could be anything else. That was until he was six feet deep in the ground and drenched in sweat from digging.

A whining angel with a cheap flashlight in his hand was the only thing illuminating the night. leaving them both unaware, the wendigo crept around them at inhuman speeds and mimicked screams of terror that had Dean rushing in on pure instinct to help. Castiel flew from the half-assed hole in the ground to where the hunter’s heavy footfalls ceased. He held the flashlight up with a soft “Dean?”, inspecting his being for wounds. In a flash, the creature ran by. It knocked the light from Cas’ hand in his precautions and left Dean a nasty, dripping gash across his jaw. Then another below his ribs. And another down the length of his thigh. Releasing a blood-curdling shriek, the wendigo knocked Dean flat on his ass before he had a chance to process the abrasions. Or reach for the gun tucked into his belt.

“Cas! Cas- a little fucking help here!” A sharp 'thwack’ followed by an unpleasant pop, left Dean with a, now, dislocated shoulder. struggling in the grasps of the Wendigo. Frantically, he dug his fingers at the weak roots of the grass, now slick with early morning dew and blood. Dean fell victim to the starved creature.

“Dean!” Castiel spread his wings and flew to the Wendigo. With a single blow to its being, the bony creature faltered; shrieking and shriveling up on itself with unfiltered celestial power. Falling to the ground, Dean emitted a heavy and pained groan. Blood stained his face, and the better part of his clothes, in such a way that one would think he committed first-degree murder. Castiel opened his mouth-

“C'mon Cas-” Dean didn’t bother with turning the music down, just raised his voice to cut through the angel’s agitated recollections. “Baby-” He drawled out and leaned over the center seat only to receive a well-deserved flick to the forehead.

“Eyes on the road, idiot.” Cas seldom grumbled but not before turning the music up just a tad louder.

Dean took the hint.

They drove in almost silence save for Castiel’s quiet humming and Dean’s not so singing. Eventually, Dean stopped for gas a little ways from the bunker. It was the nearest 'gas-n-sip’ to their home in the middle of fucking nowhere. Shutting off the engine, the freckle-faced hunter turned to Castiel with an expectant look in his forest green eyes.

Cas could easily get lost in them if the other wasn’t such a fucking dumbass.

“Are you just going stare at me or are you going to get gas? If not I could always just take us back to the bunker mys-”

“No. Nope. Not necessary.” Dean interrupted. “I am getting gas, snacks, and then we’re going to talk.” doing just that, the hunter sauntered into the quaint little store and exited within two minutes. Two cups full of something were in his hands and a receipt held between his teeth. Opening the door and placing the cups in the cup holder, still being ignored, he popped the cap on the tank and let it fill. “What’s up? Why are you so.? Quiet... And... I don't know, angry?”

Cas tilted his head with grace and shot his boyfriend one of many bitch faces he’d mastered over the years. “I wonder what could’ve given it away.” he huffed and crossed his arms. The sleeves of his coat riding up to give him that 'I could smite you with a snap of my fingers why aren’t you scared of me’ vibe. “Fucking dumbass... You’re always rushing into things! You said this was a simple 'salt and burn’, Dean! You almost died!”

“That happens a lot!” Noting the bright, blue-white flare in Castiel’s eyes, Dean took that as a smack to the face. He most definitely did not choose his words correctly.

“You make things so needlessly complicated sometimes, Dean. You and you’re selfless desire to help everyone! All you had was your gun and a damn flashlight! Against a wendigo!” he huffed out a humorless laugh. “That’s like, I don’t know, trying to kill Lucifer with a toothpick! You want to die so bad? Might as well give me the damn honor! At least I won't have to freak out every time you don’t answer your phone when you’re away, because I’ll know what happened to you!” There was still a threatening blue-white flare in his eyes, but it began to simmer away as the angel picked up his designated red Slurpee and angrily popped the straw in his mouth.

Dean arched a brow in response to Castiel’s outburst, this meaning he had to put actual thought into choosing his words. Rather than letting them fall from his tongue like a dog.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeated while turning in his seat and resting a hand on Castiel’s thigh. The car was still off, and parked at the same pump it was when they pulled in nearly ten minutes ago. “I am. I can see how upset you are and I’m sorry. I just wanted to, ya’ know, be out on the field again, being all cooped up in the bunker twenty-four-seven just… Reading… It’s giving me cabin fever.” Dean shrugged his little shrug and looked up at Castiel’s eyes, narrowed and accusing.

“It’s going to take more than a little apology and some shitty reference to a shitty horror movie to gain my forgiveness.” Cas took another sip from his beverage, letting the artificial cherry flavored molecules coat his tongue. It soon became a favorite after his brief period of living a human life. Dean took notice.

“The movie isn’t the greatest baby, but it’s not shitty.”

“You’re really not helping yourself right now.” Castiel flipped through the out of date cassette tape collection popping in Led Zeppelin’s 'Houses of the Holy’. “The best thing you’ve got going for you right now is this.” He pointed at the cup while speaking around its straw.

The hunter sighed and bit his tongue, coaxing whatever else threatened to reach his lips back down before starting the Impala. Its engine roared to life with a satisfying purr. Then they were off, back on route to the bunker.

Upon arrival, Castiel had downed his sugary drink alongside Dean in a silence that in no way sat correctly between them. Dean parked Baby in the garage and slid his arm across the back of Cas’ seat. The scene set before them was classy and cliche and everything Dean loved; sliding an arm around someone’s shoulders and staring into each other's eyes for a couple long seconds then leaning in for a kiss at an unbearably slow pace. It was almost torturous.

Castiel’s eyes flickered between his arm and his lips. “Dean-”

“Just shut up.” The entire set up was ditched as he crashed his mouth against Cas’ in a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. The angel wasn’t sure if it was the sugary drink in his belly on Dean’s lips that had him craving for more. Dean’s rough and calloused hand held the side of Castiel’s face and pulled him closer while moving himself across the front bench of the Impala. Cas let out a deep groan and the noise met with a smug little smirk from the blond.

Castiel angled his head to capture the kiss fully and muffled a non-threatening 'Don’t tell me what to do’ into Dean’s mouth. He reached up, grasping at Dean’s wrist to keep it at his jaw and outstretched his other for the collar of the tight, black shirt hugging his boyfriend’s torso. Both actions were met with compliance. Dean brushed his thumb over the angel’s cheek and letting it glide back till he gripped at the short dark hair at the base of Castiel’s skull. The kiss was sudden and harsh and cramped until it wasn’t. If anything, Cas was disappointed at the swift stop and it must’ve shown on his face because the next thing to happen was Dean’s silent chuckle while situating himself in Cas’ lap with his knees on either side of his waist.

Dean’s position looked mildly uncomfortable ducked down and hunched so he didn’t hit his head on the roof of the Impala, but the new round of kisses said otherwise. Dean kissed him again. And again. And again, soft kisses making Cas feel high. Dean’s tongue traced along the bottom of his lip, a new world of warmth flooded his system that had him leaning in for more and slipping his hand down from Dean’s wrist to press the pads of his fingers into the hunter’s hip.

Both of Dean’s hands gripped at Cas’ unruly hair, tugging a fist full of it at the base of his skull in a way that radiated control, to guide the angel’s lips back up to his own. Castiel’s hands hovered gingerly over Dean’s body, grasping at his shoulders and easing the flannel off; it barely fell off his shoulders, thanks to Dean’s refusal to move his hands from Castiel’s hair. He continued to blindly work at the flannel, persistent and needy. “Dean,” Cas rasped, guiding his mouth to Dean’s jaw and nosing at his cheek, “flannel. Off. Now.”

With Dean’s death vice gone from his hair, Cas mouthed his way down the collum of Dean’s throat, hardly assisting in helping Dean with the flannel anymore, instead preoccupied with getting his hands under the tight black shirt hugging him. Wanting to dig his palms into warm, familiar marred skin. When Cas kissed under the hunter’s jaw a, rare but welcomed, giggle bubbled up past Dean’s tingling lips.

“Cas, Cas, CasCasCas- baby stop.,” Dean whined, trying half-heartedly redirect the angel’s mouth back to his own before another embarrassing giggle tumbled out.

“Why? Is something wrong?” He raked his fingers through Castiel’s hair then tugged at the smugness in his voice.

“N- yes. I mean no, but stop.. It... It tickles and you know that.” Cas hummed, around an 'I know’ and continued to leave soft kisses around Dean’s jaw. He lifted his lips back to Dean’s, dragging his tongue across the seam with a suggestive hum from the back of his throat. Dean parted his lips and their tongues meet with fluidity and Dean can taste the sweet syrupy flavor that still lingered in Castiel’s mouth. When they part, there's a thin string of saliva collecting at their lips, snapping back down the curve of Dean’s chin from his slightest movement. Dean blurts a pleased “That's hot.” and Castiel responds with a wolfish grin that could mean so many things. With experienced hands and clear motives, the hunter tucked his fingers under the collar of Cas’ ridiculous coat, pushing it past his shoulders and down his arms in an attempt to rid him of it entirely.

“Your mouth is purple.”

Dean stopped his work with the jacket and fists the angel’s tie, yanking it so their noses bump. “So ’s yours.” There's a grin on Dean’s mouth, lips hued a light violet color while his tongue is undoubtedly much more vivid in shade. Thumbing the knot in the tie, Dean loosening the thing while Cas tried his best to do the same. In time, both Dean’s flannel and the trenchcoat lay on the floor of the Impala in a heap. The black undershirt was next on the list. Dean’s hands rested against the roof of his car while Cas tugged the shirt up with dreadfully slow hands.

“I stay out too late, got nothin’ in my brain-”

Dean and Castiel both jumped back at the abrupt, but ever welcomed (in Dean’s opinion), song by Taylor.

“That’s what people say, mmm hmm,”

Staggering in the cramped space, the eldest Winchester pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. Leaving it to rest haphazardly on the side of the bench unoccupied, taking to look around for his phone. “Gahh… Shut up!"

"That’s what people say, mmm hmm. I go on too many dates, but I can’t make 'em stay”

Castiel shamelessly laughed at his boyfriend’s struggles before reaching around and pulling the device from one of the back pockets of Dean’s unbuckled pants. Then went back for seconds and gripped firmly at his ass through the fabric.

“Shut up, asshat.” Dean glared and took the phone.

“At least that’s what people s-”

“Sammy. Man. Bad timing, whats up?” Castiel nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. The blond instinctively wrapped his free hand around Cas’ shoulders, stroking his hair. He could hear Sam on the other end of the call sounding uneasy.

“What do you mean bad time? You haven’t answered any of my texts.” Dean pulled the phone from his ear, checking to see that there was indeed an inbox full of messages from his brother. All of which were unanswered and unread. Cas gave another squeeze through the jeans.

“Whoops."

He could practicality hear Sam’s bitch face #4 accompanied by eyeroll #16.

"I mean, I know Cas is with you but I texted you like six times and I tried calling Cas, because your 'salt and burn’ case wasn’t a ghost. You just rushed out and I haven’t heard from you in two days man.”

The angel shifted his attention from the phone call to the open opportunity to hear Dean Winchester’s once in a lifetime giggle. Again. He started at the crook of his neck, lax and, brushing his lips faintly against Dean’s sensitive, love-bitten skin. “Everything’s fine. Went looking for a -Cas, I’m on the phone- haunting ended up with a dead wendigo..”

“Sorry, didn’t notice.” Castiel’s fingers caressed a few small scars etched into his skin and continued his pursuit, mouthing up and under his jaw.

“Whatever Dean. You said you were going to be back at like noon. And for you, that means ten. Dean, it’s four in the afternoon, did you and Cas stop on the side of the road to bang in the Impala and forget that we’re trying to find leads on the demon tablet?”

Dean swatted at Castiel’s shoulder while he gnawed at his lip. He is a warrior. He has spent years hunting monsters, killing them, dealing with demons and risking his life. There’s no way some handsy angel is going to make him giggle.

Again.

“I'm hanging up Sam. You’re a big boy. You’ll be fine.” Dean hit the end call button before Sam had even the slightest chance to argue then dropped his phone onto the pile of discarded layers on the floor. “You are unbelievable,” he grumbled with a tug to Castiel’s hair. “Handsy and annoying and unbelievable. C'mon.” Stepping from the Impala, the two men were stiff from being confined and utterly disheveled. Dean hadn’t even gotten his shirt back on yet and Cas looked like he just stepped out of a bad porno. Neither bothered with completely redressing. The flannel and trenchcoat were left in the car for future purposes while Dean pulled the undershirt back on.

“I forgive you.”

Dean’s brows furrowed until it clicked that he was originally intending to gain Castiel’s forgiveness. “All it took was a kiss?”

“No, actually. Why hold a grudge over something like that? You are a Winchester. It’s what you do. And, well, if I can’t live with that, then why should I hold it against you when I’m the one incapable of accept- yea. Pretty much. You’re good at it. It’s hard to be angry even though you’re still a dumbass.”

“Romantic.” was all Dean said as they entered the main part of the bunker, finding the better part of their family in the war room. Kevin sat at one end of the table, working his prophet magic on the Angel Tablet, Sam flipping through one of four large open books opposite to him, and Charlie at her laptop next to Kevin, murmuring something that couldn’t be heard by Dean. Cas grabbed his hand and laced their fingers.

“About damn time.” Sam bitched, flipping to the next page of his book, likely skimming through the pages and looking for some keywords to catch his eye. He never looked up.

“Ah quit your-”

Kevin interrupted with an obvious, “Your mouths are purple.”

“Yes, they are. I had a red Slurpee.” Cas shrugged and let go of Dean’s hand to go sit at the table, swiping away a closed book from one of Sam’s piles. Dean sauntered through the room with confidence towards the kitchen.

“I had a blue one.”

Sam wasn’t amused.

[recallback]

Run Rabbit Run

[unfolded73]

Another New York City Serenade (7/7) - COMPLETE

Thanks again to everyone who read/liked/reblogged/commented/kudosed/sent me messages or otherwise flailed at this fic, helping me to survive the winter and the hiatus. I love you all.

Summary: With the visitors from Arendelle gone and Gold banished, Emma and Killian’s relationship continues to deepen, especially when an excuse for a road trip away from Storybrooke falls into their laps. (A S4 hiatus story).

Beta: @j-philly-b

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3895 this chapter/30k overall

(tagging @kmomof4 @this-too-too-sullied-flesh @cherrywolf713 @stardusted-nymph upon request)

CHAPTER 1 |  CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

Killian opened his eyes to the now-familiar surroundings of his room at Granny’s, faintly lit in the pre-dawn glow. He groaned, stretching his limbs in an attempt to banish the ache caused by too many hours sitting in Emma’s automobile the previous day. They’d both been exhausted when Emma pulled into town, and had limited themselves to a brief goodnight before he climbed out of the car and Emma drove off to pick Henry up from Regina’s house.

The whole trip to New York felt a little bit like a dream now. As he got dressed, Killian caught himself staring at a stray earring of Emma’s he had found on the floor the previous week and had neglected to return to her. He picked it up, squeezing it tightly between his fingers to reassure himself that she was real. That he hadn’t somehow dreamed up their entire relationship.

Belle was already working behind the circulation desk when he arrived at the library after breakfast. “Killian! Glad to see you made it home in one piece,” she said as she loaded returned books onto a cart. “Before you ask, I’ve been looking, but I haven’t found any sign of that crystal at the pawn shop.”

“Wasn’t really expecting you to, love.” He took a deep breath, trying to feign optimism about the task that lay ahead of them. “We’ll find some other way.”

Belle’s lips flattened out in an attempt at a smile. “I hope so. Was it a good trip otherwise?”

“For the most part,” he said.

“‘For the most part?’” Her head tilted to the side as she regarded him. “I was hoping for your sake it would be a bit romantic, at least.”

Killian wasn’t sure what to say to Belle. There was a lot of unfortunate history between them, and much he had to be ashamed of. If their alliance was growing into a friendship, what was appropriate to share with a platonic female friend who was grieving a heartbreaking betrayal so recently?

“It was.” He reached for something innocuous to tell her. “She took me dancing at some sort of club; quite different from the balls in the Enchanted Forest.”

Belle laughed. “I bet it was.” She started to turn back to her books, but seemed to think better of it. “Are you okay? You seem a little bit down.”

“I’m not, I’m… I don’t know.” Belle just watched him, waiting. “We quarreled while we were there, and although in the end she forgave me quite easily, it left me feeling disconcerted.”

“It’s normal for couples to argue, Killian.”

“I know. It’s not the fact that we argued, it’s what it made me realize about myself.”

Belle came out from behind the circulation desk to stand nearer to him. “And what’s that?”

“I spent centuries only motivated by a quest for vengeance. And then I met Emma, and she… it was like she filled up all the broken places inside me. Revenge no longer drove me, or so I thought.”

“But?”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you about this, love. The last thing you need is to be burdened with my dark musings.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.

Belle was unimpressed with his angst. “Just tell me.”

“There was a moment in New York, after we realized that Gold had stolen the crystal, that I swear if he had been standing in front of me, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him right then and there.” He sighed. “It made me wonder if I’m no better than I was. If perhaps there’s some dark part of me, some weak part that I’ve tried to bury, for whom Emma is just a distraction.”

If he expected Belle to flinch or shy away, she didn’t. “We all have darkness, Killian. It’s just a matter of whether you allow it to rule you.”

“Some of us have more darkness than others.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But do you know what I think? I see the capacity for a lot of good in you. I see a lot of kindness. You just have to put your faith in the man you know you want to be, not in the man you fear you are.”

~*~

Emma sat across from Henry in the diner booth at Granny’s and watched as he dug into his huge piece of chocolate cake.

“How’s the cake, kiddo?”

“Fine.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t have to buy me cake just because you were out of town for a few days, you know.”

“I didn’t buy it because of that… mostly.” She shrugged. “I felt a little guilty for leaving you behind, that’s all.”

“I told you, I get it. I mean, I don’t get it in the sense that I don’t really understand romantic stuff. But I get it.” He took another overly large bite, chewed, and swallowed. “So you think the crystal you guys were looking for is gone forever?”

“Probably. Belle can’t find it, so either Gold destroyed it or he took it with him. But I’m sure Belle and Killian will find another way to get the fairies out of that hat,” she assured him.

“Yeah.”

In fact, Killian and Belle had redoubled their research efforts, and she’d seen little of him since they returned to Storybrooke. Emma’s mind drifted back to the last morning in New York, the way Killian had woken her gently by tracing a finger over the top of her hand where it rested between them on the bed. Even though he woke up at the crack of dawn, it had been nice, waking up together. Now they were back to stolen moments wedged in between all of their obligations.

“Do you think you and Hook are gonna move in together?” Henry mumbled, his mouth full of chocolate.

Emma almost spit her cocoa out, and she had to overcome a coughing fit before she could respond. “What? No. What?”

“Mom, it’s not that crazy. He’s staying at Granny’s, you’re crammed in with grandma and granddad and the baby.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a reason to move in together.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Obviously, but also you’re dating.”

Emma allowed herself to picture it. Him being the last person she saw before she closed her eyes every night and the first person she saw when she woke up. His toothbrush next to hers in the bathroom, his rather terrifying straight razor beside the sink. Perhaps occasionally beckoning him into the shower like she had on that final morning in the hotel, their hands on each other slippery with soap, then her back pressed against the cold tile, Killian dropping to his knees and encouraging her to prop one leg up on his shoulder...

Shaking herself, Emma picked up her ice water and took a sip. “It’s way too soon to move in together.”

With a shrug, Henry dug into his cake again. “Okay.”

“But just hypothetically…” Emma said. “If, far in the future, we did move in together… you’d be okay with that? You wouldn’t mind?”

“If I mope about it, will you buy me more cake?”

“Henry, be serious.”

Henry looked up and seemed to consider it. “I don’t know. I like Hook, but it would be weird.”

“Too weird?”

He shrugged again. “Ask me again when the idea doesn’t make you spit your cocoa on me, I guess.”

“I didn’t—” Emma stopped her protestation and nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

~*~

Pulling out his mobile telephone, Killian saw that an unfamiliar number was ringing him. Of course, other than Emma and now Belle, all numbers were unfamiliar. He pressed the Talk button and held it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Hook, it’s Mary Margaret,” Snow said. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over to the loft and have lunch with me today.”

He gaped a bit like a fish out of water. “To what do I owe the honor, milady?”

“Settle down, I’m not inviting you to a royal ball, it’s just lunch.”

“In that event, I will forego any formal attire and would be happy to accept.”

A couple of hours later he was knocking nervously on the door of the Charmings’ apartment, wondering how bad, on a scale from understated disapproval to banishment, Snow White’s ulterior motive was for summoning him to eat a meal with her.

“Come in,” he heard Snow call, so he opened the door and walked into the sunny space.

She was stirring something in a large stew pot on stove. “Make yourself at home; this should be ready soon. How are you, Hook?”

Killian busied himself with hanging his jacket up. “I’m well. And yourself?”

She sighed. "Neal is teething and waking us up at all hours, but I’m fine otherwise. He’s napping now,” she explained.

Killian walked over the breakfast bar and sat on one of the stools. “At least the lad is healthy, yes?”

“Oh, yeah. We just had a checkup with the doctor last week and he’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear it.”

A silence settled between them as Snow busied herself returning spices to her spice cabinet and tidying up the kitchen. “I’ve hardly seen you since you and Emma got back from your trip.”

“I’ve been spending much of my time in the library, trying to find another solution to free those that the Dark One imprisoned.”

She tilted her head at him. “You do look tired. I hope you aren’t working too hard.”

“Poring over old manuscripts is tedious and frustrating, but I wouldn’t call it hard work. I spent many a year on my ship demanding hard work of sailors, and before that having it demanded of me. The gentleman’s labor of library research is easy by comparison.”

“You always worked on ships?”

“Aye, from the time I was a boy. My brother Liam and I were indentured from a young age. Once Liam was able to buy our freedom…” He clenched his jaw, shoving his shameful memories of that time aside. “Long story short, we were able to join the Royal Navy.”

“Ah, that must be where your education and manners come from,” Snow said, seemingly delighted at this new piece of the Captain Hook puzzle. “I always thought you seemed very well-spoken for a pirate — when you chose to be, anyway.”

“I certainly have the Navy to thank for any formal education. I've also had a lot of years since in which to catch up on my reading.”

“I suppose that's true,” she said with a chuckle, checking the contents of her stew pot.

Killian cleared his throat. “It probably won’t surprise you to know that I was trepidatious about your lunch invitation.”

“What, did you think I was bringing you here to order you to keep your hands off my daughter?” she said with a laugh.

“The thought did occur.”

Snow rolled her eyes. “It’s a little late for that, and it’s not like I have any say in who Emma dates, and what gave you the idea I disapproved of the two of you anyway?”

He flushed, looking down at the countertop. “It sort of stands to reason.”

“Well, relax. I have no intention of issuing any royal proclamations when it comes to Emma’s love life. I swear my only motivation in inviting you here was to feed you a home-cooked meal, because I would imagine those have been in short supply for you lately. Or maybe always?” Snow said as she ladled stew into a bowl. “I’m trying to duplicate a fish stew that our royal cook used to serve when I was a girl, and I figured who better to taste-test it than our local pirate?”

Killian grinned. “In that case, I am at your service.”

“Good,” she said, putting the bowl in front of him. “Let it cool off a little before you try it.”

Stirring the hot stew with his spoon, Killian let the steam warm his face. “You were right that home-cooked meals have been a rare luxury in my life. My father could barely be bothered to put any kind of food in front of us most of the time.”

“And your mother?”

He swallowed. “I never knew my mother.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Killian shrugged. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had,” he said, knowing it was untrue even as the words came out of his mouth. He took a bite of the stew, savoring the flavors of it. “This is delicious. Best thing I’ve had since I came to this realm.”

“You’re just saying that,” Snow said, blushing faintly. “Although you are welcome to eat with us any time if it comes with such lovely compliments.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition.” She sat next to him with her own bowl. “You know, I’ve watched you work to be a better man and to win my daughter’s heart. I’ve watched you learning to live in this realm, and I’m sure it’s harder for you than you let on most of the time. But there’s one more thing that I’m going to insist that you also learn to live with.”

“What’s that?”

Snow reached out and put her hand over his hook where it was resting on top of the table. “Family.”

~*~

Emma pulled her sweater off over her head, her hair collecting static and briefly sticking up in all directions. “We have half an hour before my parents get back.”

Killian’s hand froze as he pulled the end of his belt back to unbuckle it, and Emma’s gaze dragged down from his kiss-bruised lips and zeroed in on the bulge in his jeans. “That’s cutting it rather close; are you sure about this?”

She rucked her own pants down her legs, sitting down on her bed in the loft to remove them. “Am I sure I need to get laid right now? Absolutely. It’s been almost a week and I am willing to risk it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one that your father will lock in the town jail at best if they walk in on us.” Nonetheless, he continued efficiently removing his clothes. His nimble fingers working the buttons of his shirt and revealing more and more of his chest was stupidly mesmerizing, and she took a few seconds to watch him work.

“Just keep an ear out for the door downstairs and it’ll be fine,” she said as she reached behind her back to unfasten her bra. She let it slide down her arms before she tossed it away.

“Stop,” Killian said as her hands went to her hips to pull her underwear off. “Let me.” His warm fingers on one side and his hook on the other, he slowly slid the fabric down her legs, and Emma couldn’t help but shiver at the raw desire she saw in his eyes.

They got under the covers together and he pressed her down into the mattress and God, she was so turned on she hardly would’ve cared if the whole town walked in on them. She writhed underneath him, letting her legs fall open and shamelessly grinding against his erection. As Killian leaned down to kiss her, the muffled sound of her cell phone ringing reached her ears.

“Ignore it,” she mumbled against his mouth before he suggested otherwise.

“I was planning on it.”

The ringing stopped, and then almost immediately started again.

“God dammit,” Emma groaned, pushing Killian off of her and fumbling beside the bed for her jeans. She pulled the phone from her pocket and answered the call. “Hello?” she said impatiently.

“Mom, did I leave my 3DS at the loft?”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Henry, I haven’t seen it.”

“Can you look for it?”

Killian’s mouth descended on her collarbone, his teeth teasing her skin. “Not right now,” Emma said through clenched teeth. “I’ll look later, and I’ll bring it to Regina’s if I find it, okay?”

“Thanks!”

“Sorry about that.” She tossed the phone onto the bedside table and reached down to close her hand around his cock, making him gasp.

His hips flexed, his erection sliding through her fist. “On second thought, I fear half an hour may be an optimistic assessment of my prowess tonight, love. I feel like I haven’t made love to you in an age.”

“Same here.” His hand slipped between her legs and it was Emma’s turn to gasp. “Fuck, just get inside me, I don’t need foreplay,” she gritted.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist and he lined himself up and pushed into her, making both of them moan. “By all the gods, you feel unbelievable,” he said against her mouth. He started a quick rhythm, his pelvis grinding against hers at the apex of every thrust, and he felt so good, so good…

Emma’s phone rang again, and this time the ringtone told her it was a forwarded call from the sheriff’s station.

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Killian said.

“I have to, it might be an emergency.” She reached over and grabbed for her phone, almost dropping it before she managed to answer the call.

“Sheriff,” she said, trying to school her voice to neutral. Killian stilled, but the sensation of him inside her was quite distracting.

“We’ve got a problem, sister.”

Emma almost laughed out loud. Of course it was Grumpy. Of course. “What can I do for you, Leroy?” Killian collapsed against her, whispering swears into the crook of her neck.

“Grand larceny is what’s going on. I had some very valuable ... vintage magazines in a box in our garage, and the box has been stolen.”

“Vintage magazines?” Emma groaned, not a little bit because of the way Killian’s tongue was running along her skin. She had never been so simultaneously aroused and disgusted in her life, assuming ‘vintage magazines’ meant what she thought it did.

“That’s what I said. Vintage magazines.”

Without really meaning to, Emma flexed her pelvic muscles, squeezing Killian from the inside. He groaned softly into her ear. “I can come out and take a look first thing tomorrow morning,” she said into the phone, her other hand coming up to stroke Killian’s hair.

“The trail will be cold by then! You need to come take a look now!”

I’m with my boyfriend, she was tempted to respond, and he is literally inside me while I’m talking to you. Imagining the look on Grumpy’s face in reaction to such a proclamation made her bite her lip to keep from laughing. Instead she said, “Are you sure one of your brothers didn’t just borrow them?”

The line went silent, and this time when Emma flexed her pelvic muscles, it was entirely on purpose. Killian whimpered and moved inside her, like he couldn’t help it. She shivered as she felt his teeth scrape against her neck.

“Happy! Did you take my magazines from the garage?!” Emma winced and held the phone away from her ear. If Grumpy was covering up the phone speaker to shout at his brother, he was not doing a very good job. Her other hand left Killian’s hair and scratched down the firm plane of his back.

There was a muffled response that Emma couldn’t make out through the phone, and then Grumpy said, “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff,” before abruptly disconnecting the call.

Emma let her hand drop and the phone fall out of it onto the rug. “Sorry again.”

“You are a vile temptress,” Killian responded, pistoning his hips. His thrusts picked up speed, his hot breath panting out against her neck, and it felt wonderful, but Emma had lost the pleasurable momentum that had been driving her forward. Figuring they didn’t have time to slow down and get her back in the mood, she made all the right noises, encouraging Killian until he spilled inside her with a pained groan.

After a few seconds, he lifted his head and regarded her. “You didn’t orgasm, did you?”

She gave him a half-smile. “Strangely, Leroy’s voice in my ear talking about his missing porn was not the turn-on you might think. Don't worry about it.”

He slid out of her, settling at her side. “But you were so… hungry for it a moment ago.” His hand trailed down her stomach, his voice velvety as he enunciated each word.

“I know, but now I...” She stopped talking as his fingers slid inside her, her head tilting backwards on the pillow. The sensation of their combined fluids coating his fingers was strangely arousing, and she gasped as he used his thumb to circle her clit.

“Yes... Killian…”

“That’s it, my love. Let me see you come.”

She moved her pelvis in time with his fingers, closing her eyes and focusing on the sparks of pleasure he was creating, reaching and climbing and there, she was almost there, almost—

Emma came with a soft moan, squeezing her eyes shut and allowing the pulsing ecstasy to wash over her. She gradually relaxed every muscle in her body, letting go of his shoulder where she had been gripping it, her hand dropping to the bed.

“That’s better,” Killian said, a smug smile on his face. His hand dragged across her thigh, and she was a mess and the sheets were definitely going to have to go in the laundry, but all she could do was meet his smile with one of her own.

The door downstairs opened. “Emma, we’re home!” her mother called.

“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute!” she yelled back, pressing a finger to her lips and staring wide-eyed at Killian.

They did their best to clean up and dress as quietly as possible, Emma quickly running a brush through her hair as Killian buttoned his shirt and vest. Baby Neal was downstairs screeching at random intervals, which she hoped was distracting her parents from wondering what she was up to. Even so, it felt ludicrously obvious what they had been doing as the two of them descended the stairs to the main part of the loft. David certainly seemed to find it obvious, narrowing his eyes at them and glaring.

Killian kept his distance from her parents, bidding them a polite good evening before he made his excuses and turned to leave. Emma followed, pulling the door closed and giving him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“Not to worry. Tell your father to give me a few days to get my affairs in order before the execution.”

“We can stay at your place tomorrow if you want,” Emma said with a chuckle.

He put his arms around her, pulling her close. “Can we fall asleep together?” he asked, his voice soft and vulnerable. “I find I don't sleep half as well when you aren't with me.”

“Yeah.” She kissed his lips, his cheek, his ear. “Sure we can.” Pulling out of the hug and taking hold of his hook, she added. “Let me know if you come across any other magical items in Belle’s books that are in any far off locations. Chicago, maybe? L.A.? I hear Paris is nice.”

“Anywhere you want to go, Swan, I will be at your side if you’ll have me.”

Happiness swelling in her chest, Emma smiled. “I think I’ll have you.”

END