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sh1tbird-shantytown · 4 years ago

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original post/idea came from @memes-saved-me

and thank you for encouraging me to write it! i had lots of fun <3

———

Steve Harrington’s parents weren’t around often. People knew that, they were aware. Now, they weren’t home much, yes, but they weren’t not home enough for it to be a worrying case of neglect. They still called in, had the neighbor keep tabs, and came home at least three times a month.

When you asked Steve about his family he’d simply shrug his shoulders and tell you that his father had a firm in the city. When someone asked Mr. and Mrs. Harrington about their son they’d wave a hand and mention how ‘he’s just on his way to graduating’ and then change the subject. Was Steve Harrington the perfect son? Maybe not. Were the senior Harrington’s good parents to begin with? Debatable. But they had something close to functional. They digress.

And so, as children who didn’t have prominent leaders in their life usually turn out, Steve was a lost cause when it came to actually living on his own. He had the money for food and his parents kept up with the bills. But he was horrendous when it came to actually keeping the house up to shape.

Until he had to figure it out to save his own ass.

The first instance was messy.

His first party had been wild. Junior year. Half his grade and then some had shown up. He’d gone all out. The long, fancy dining table had been loaded with foods all fatty and desirable. Kegs had been placed outside for peoples free flow. The expensive stereo which had been installed that spring blasted music from a collection of mixtapes. And by the end of the night, the party had been raging. Raging as in fights broke out, people got reckless, everyone started getting destructive.

That was when Steve regretted not having a plan, he was too sober to just let it go and deal with it in the morning. He knew that wasn’t a good idea. Multiple things happened all at once. Someone dragged a keg in from the backyard, too drunk to find the strength to carry it. And apparently too deaf to hear it scratch up the maple wood floorboards. Then, two seniors bashed their heads into the wall. Successfully denting two very noticeable holes in the drywall. But, oh, that wasn’t all the destruction. Some junior (Steve vaguely registered his name as Jake) was thrown into the wall, actively also breaking a shelf there too.

He had turned off the music and then clanged pots together to get them all out. It worked. A little surprisingly.

And then he’d been left with a damaged house to deal with.

He picked up all the litter both indoors and outdoors, put the little leftover food into the fridge, vacuumed, and then went to bed in exhaustion.

===

The next day he’d then been overwhelmed with many worries over the destruction caused to his home. He was just thankful it had been Saturday. He had the weekend to figure this shit out. He went around the house and made a list of everything that needed repair.

1.) The floor

2.) The holes in the walls

3.) That shelf (REPLACEMENT)

4.) The table

Oh yes, the table. His family’s long, fancy table had an abundant number of scratches engraved into it. Something no amount of waxing could fix.

His first thought was to look for all the tools his prestigious father had to offer. So, he looked everywhere. The basement, the attic, the closets, the offices, the shed. And he did find some. A hammer, two screwdrivers with different points, a tape measure, a wrench, a measuring level, and exactly 28 screws. But even that wasn’t enough and he knew. Next stop was the local hardware store.

Mr. Jimmy was the local handyman and he was nice enough to everyone. But not so much to the Harrington’s.

“What’re you doing here, boy? You know, son,” Jimmy’s neglected beard rustled when he spoke and his shop smelled of anchovies and cheese doodles. “I used to know yer Mama. Back in the day. She was a purdy thing, that woman.” He sighed something fond, “I miss that there woman. She’s not the same. Barely see her nowadays.” Steve was used to Mr. Jimmy’s delays, wasn’t subsided too much.

“Hey, Mr. Jimmy,” he stepped through the threshold of the old shop. “I’m looking for some tools today. Think you could help me?”

Mr. Jimmy regarded him with squinted eyes, “You using yer Daddy’s money?”

Steve blinked, “Yeah?” Mr. Jimmy folded his arms impassively. He had obvious tan lines that peaked out through his sleeveless shirt. Skin red over age.

“I don’t want no money from that bastard’s account!”

“But—“

“I’ll have none of it,” the bulky man stepped forward and Steve’s back hit the cold glass door.

“But, Mr. Jimmy, you’d be taking from him. Wouldn’t that be better than just letting him keep all that money for himself?” Steve reasoned. Adding the suggestive and innocent lilt to his tone, worked his bystander charm.

The scornful eyes grew with joy, “Why—“ he laughed suddenly, loud and invasive just as he was. “You’re a rotten little junior, aren’t yeh!” he galloped over to his counter with the same joyous lilt. Steve stood still in case the man swerved into another decision. He watched as Mr. Jimmy himself walked around his shelves, searching. “What kinda stuff you lookin for anyways?”

Steve struggled to find his voice, “Er- Uhm- Hah. W—Well I have to replace some wood flooring, fix a scratched table, replace a shelf, and patch up some holes in the wall?” He received a raised eyebrow before the man started hurriedly piling supplies throughout the shop into the counter by the cash register. Steve didn’t even want to think about how much it would cost. Although, if he thought about it, replacing everything and then paying someone else to do it all was probably more of a hole. Sure, the emergency cash that had added up over time would be gone, but at least he wouldn’t be disowned for the ruined furniture.

“That’ll be $78.75,” Mr. Jimmy pressed some buttons and Steve startled a little when the loud clang of it opening echoed. He pulled out his wallet anyway and dug around for the cash. He handed over four twenties only a smidge reluctantly.

Mr. Jimmy was giddy at least, “This here money will do me some good,” he nodded to himself as he stored the greens away and started packing the supplies in tightly within big paper bags.

“I’m sure my father will miss it,” Steve fibbed, “Keep the change.” And carried the three hefty loads up and out the door.

===

He had Queen playing the speakers and a crow bar in hand. What he was supposed to do now that he supposedly had all of the materials was a toss up to him. But he had to try.

He got down on all fours and began prying between the first ruined board and one of the unscarred ones. It lifted with a creak and he watched it carefully as he moved the bar up and down repeatedly. At one point it didn’t peel off any more and so he went side to side with it. Still nothing. He tried to push forward but there was too much resistance.

“What the hell? Come on you pathetic piece of wood!” he muttered exasperatedly. He pulled back a little and then slammed the bar back under the board. There was a sharp snapping sound that made him freeze. But the board was unstuck. And, oh would you look at that. He was unceremoniously proud. The floor board popped off. He saw that there was some dried up white lines underneath. He decided that it looked like that stuff in the bottle labeled ‘liquid nail’ and placed the board to the side.

He spent the rest of the late morning tearing up floorboards. By the time a late lunch break was approaching, he had accomplished removing all the damaged floor. He went into the kitchen to wash his hands quick before calling for a pizza when he realized the water accumulation in the sink. And it wouldn’t go down.

“Okay!” he cried in frustration, “What the actual hell now?” He got down again and opened the cupboard doors to the pipes coming down from the sink. There were steel pipes that started from the sink and curved around down into the bottom of the cabinet. There were rings that Steve assumed connected them. So to see what was backing up the sink he’d have to unscrew a couple. Right? He got up and dusted his pants off (a lost cause by this point) and went over to the pile of tools by the front door.

He grabbed a wrench, or at least what looked like one the plumber had used when he’d visited once or twice when Steve was a kid. It took him a minute but he finally loosened the mouth of it and fitted the groves over the ring of the pipe. He twisted and some water started dropping down. It started making a puddle so he hurried and grabbed a pot, placing it right underneath. He twisted again and again and again.

He sputtered as some sprayed into his face, “Awe hell! Disgusting!” but he kept twisting anyway.

Eventually it came off. But the water was quickly overflowing. Not to mention rancid. He yelped in shock and ran all around the kitchen trying to find more bowls. He found one, a china bowl that was his mother’s great aunt’s. He yelled out as he saw the grey water streaming down onto the kitchen floor at that point. He ran back and held the fancy ceramic serving bowl up to the open pipe. He sighed in relief as it worked and when it stopped, finally, just barely brimming the bowl, he saw tons of little pieces of orange.

“Who the hell put orange peels in my sink?” he muttered as he carefully waddled out to the back yard. It was cold out and he didn’t have shoes nor socks on. He jogged on his toes all the way back to the tree line and tossed the gross contents into the bushes there. He ran back shivering with a tight hold onto the rim of the china bowl. When inside he set it on the counter and fluttered about gathering towels. He mopped up the rest of the water mess and went to turn on the sink to check his work.

“Wait!” he jumped down in panic just as he turned the water on and off in the same second. The water inevitably dripped down through the open pipe but it was only a little. He leaned his head tiredly against the open cupboard door, face sweaty and hairline damp. He took the wrench and attached the rings back on snugly. Then, he turned the water on with a quick flick at the knob. He laughed happily as nothing leaked and the water trickled down without blockage. He leaned back against the counter and panted as the slight adrenaline rush flowed away.

===

Some time later he figured that he should probably work on the holes in the wall. He had some sort of paper roll made of one thick strip and a big bucket of smooth and pale mud textured stuff. He took the wide spatula thing that Mr. Jimmy had instructed of him to use and stared at the two dents in the white accent wall.

“Ummm,” Steve looked from his full hands, roll of paper stuff around his wrist and mud bucket in one and the spatula in the other. “Well what the hell do I do now?” he asked himself. He could really use Mr. Jimmy’s insight right now. Or Tommy. Tommy knew this stuff his uncle was one of the local handymen. But Tommy had also been the one to drag the keg in so maybe not him. He stepped up to the biggest of the damages and pulled off a piece of the thick paper. He held it up to the wall and blocked off the hole.

“Oh!” he realized excitedly, “I see,” Steve nodded to himself proudly and crouched to set the bucket on the floor. He stuck the spatula in and took some up with it. “Like paste,” he mumbled to himself and started smoothing the mud stuff on one side of the tape strip he’d measured out. He grinned and stuck it to the wall over the hole so that the top and bottom connected to the uncracked wall. He did that same thing until the whole hole was patched up. He looked at the pale ‘paste’ and looked back at the wall thoughtfully.

He started, then, to slather more joint compound (he’d finally read the bucket) on top of the tape (he had also then remembered the rushed instructions Mr. Jimmy had thrown out). He smoothed it out tediously and left it be to repeat on the other hole. When he’d finished with that task he found his arms and pants speckled with clumps of dried and crumbly spackle. Steve didn’t think it would be this messy. He picked it off his arms as he walked back to the upturned floor. He winced as the dried beads pulled at his arm hair.

Now, to get the new flooring in, Steve grabbed the hammer and the cylinder with the glue stuff. He really had no clue what it was supposed to be. But he did have an idea of what he had to do. So, he laid out all the new flooring, which he was happy to note was just about a perfect match to the old floor, and started patching the right lengths in place. When he had the puzzle figured out he stared at the tube thoughtfully. He scratched at the tip to see if it would give and when it didn’t he went to the kitchen for scissors.

He snipped off the cap and held it upright as he ran back to his station. Steve turned over one of the boards and pushed in the bottom to get the contents out. Which proved more difficult than he’d hoped. A spurt squirted out but then it stopped.

“Okay,” he sighed defeatedly, “What the fuck?” he set it down and went back to his pile of hardware supplies. There was an odd contraption that did have a base with the same diameter of the cylinder canister. He shrugged a grabbed it, “Worth a try.” He fitted it in and adjusted it so it looked somewhat how he assumed it should. He set the point on the board plank and pulled the trigger a few slow times until the glue came out. He laughed a loud ‘AH-HA’ and swirled it around. He flipped it over after setting down the canister and contraption and fitted and locked it in as best he could with the hammer. Sure, there was about two dents because he hit it a little bit too hard. But it was in and he only had five more boards to fit in. He felt happy enough.

Throughout the rest of the installment he had managed to not get the ‘liquid nail’ on his hands and there weren’t any too obvious dents in the floor, nor anymore scratches. He went back to his list to cross things out and check his progress.

1.) The floor

2.) The holes in the walls

3.) That shelf (REPLACEMENT)

4.) The table

He knew he had to use that block thing to sand down the dried compound. and then he had to repaint the wall white. But that would be simple. The shelf though, that was something else. He had seven wood planks that Mr. Jimmy had cut down for him already. He just had to screw them together and sand them down. Mr. Jimmy had said something about stain or wax but Steve waved it off, the only thing that went on the old shelf was little boxes that held his great great great grandmother’s spoon collection (something he had stored away before his party).

He went outside to the patio with the small hand drill, the 3x4’s, and the thin screws that he’d bought from the store. He sat criss-cross on the concrete and set up the little shelf. It took fifty six minutes and a couple minor slivers and scrapes, but he had the shelf put together with the screws just barely noticeable. He inspected the wood and decided that it was fine as it was. A close enough replica. He went back inside with it, not bothering to sand all the little nooks, and placed it against the wall experimentally. If he put it down a little the holes from before would be concealed just fine.

He drew two little lines with a pencil down the line where the original screws had been. He knew he needed a post to screw into, that the drywall wouldn’t hold. See? He was learning. He lined up the backing plank and placed the level on top, shifting the shelf just so the bubble was in the middle of the lines. He then drilled a screw through it and into the wall. Before he let it go he drilled in the second with some struggle since the he kept loosing balance. But eventually, it was in the wall. His arms were sore and he felt a headache coming on but he had the new shelf up and if his mother was kind enough to not go inspecting it, it would pass just fine. He laughed victoriously and skipped a little around joyously. He was almost done.

“Just a few more things, just a couple,” he consoled his aching limbs. Drills were hefty little things and reminded him of those wild horses in movies that always tried to buck the cowboys off. He groaned a little as he spotted the mess of a table on his way to grab a snack.

He turned his nose to the visual reminder, “I’ll be back to deal with you,” he grumbled. “I need a damn Jell-O cup.”

===

It was actually the next day that he finally got to it. His parents would be back home Monday and he still had a few things left to do. So much for an easygoing weekend. Tommy had called that morning and asked him to go with him to a neighborhood baseball scrimmage, but he’d said he was busy and hung up. He had been mid-sanding down the dining table. And after three hours of perfecting and perfecting it all again. After so much time getting sore and sweaty and coughing from dust. The table was finally flat and there was no more sign of scratches. He got the cloth that Mr. Jimmy had thrown at his face the day before and opened the strong chemically smelling can. He gagged but dipped it in and started applying the wood stain carefully, following the lines of the wood on pure instinct. It made sense too even if he wasn’t totally sure if it was actually right. But, either way, within that hour he had the table back to its original color and left it to dry completely.

He stared at the bumpy wall of compound. He knew this would be bad. If the wood dust was bad, this mud stuff was going to be worse. He wasn’t that naive.

And he was right. By the time it was smooth he was coughing and in dire need of a glass of water. He was never having a damn party at his own house again. Tammy and Sara could continue to host them, people didn’t react well to the spaciousness in the Harrington house apparently. In a rush and loss of interest in his work, Steve quickly painted over the patches with white and left it to dry. He got the can of wax and rubbed it on around the table in his final task.

He was tired as hell and he still had to go to school tomorrow. And he really needed to speak with the person who put orange peels down the damn sink.

===

On Monday morning, at approximately 5:48 AM, Steve Harrington sat in the living room watching I Love Lucy while eating toast as his parents bustled inside.

“Hello!” he heard his mother chirp tiredly as she entered through the foyer. She hurried over and he gave her as welcoming of an embrace as he could. “How are you, dear? Foods in good supply?” she pulled away to inspect him with her hazel eyes, “Heating system still working alright?”

Steve nodded and smiled, “Everything’s just fine. But I have to go and meet Tommy before school, that alright?” he stepped to the side and towards the stairs.

“Of cour—“ his mother was cut off by the monotone cords of his father.

“Stephano, what is up with this mess!” In that moment, Steve Harrington didn’t think he’d ever felt as much fear as he had in that moment. He bolted to the kitchen.

“What mess?”

His father pointed to the wrench, screw driver, and tape measure on the island counter, “Away with this mess, Steve. Clutter is nothing to approve of. It accumulates and it’s unprofessional.” If he only knew.

===

Years later, when he was in everlasting love with Billy Hargrove and they had their shared, small and cozy Chicago apartment, his handyman skills came back to great use.

“Steve! Steve!” Billy shouted in a panic.

Steve rushed from the bedroom to the kitchen, socks skidding on the floors, “What is it? What happened?” he flocked around his boyfriend and checked for any injuries.

Billy pointed rigidly to the sink, “Somethings up with the pipes or something.”

Steve rose his brows in bewilderment, “You don’t know how to unclog pipes?”

Billy furrowed his, “You do?” Steve nodded and opened the cupboard, kneeling to check the pipes.

“Okay so there’s PVC pipes here, I don’t even need a wrench!” he peaked back up at Billy’s wide eyes. “Can you get me that bucket I usually give you when you get hungover?” Billy nodded and jogged out of the room. Steve got a hand towel and placed it down, “What did you put down the drain anyway?” Billy almost hit him in the face with the bucket when he turned back. He froze and took it from the nervous man.

“Uhm. Potato peels,” he answered.

Steve scoffed, “It’s always peels isn’t it?”

Billy stepped back when Steve started turning the rings, “What?”

“Nothin’.” He twisted it quick and managed to not get sprayed in the face while the murky water and loads of potato peel flowed out into the large bucket. When the flow stopped he reattached the pipes together and hefted the bucket out to Billy. “Put that down the toilet, Tiger.” He turned back and heard the sloshing in the bucket and the grunts from Billy as he went through the hallway. Steve chuckled to himself and wiped up the small water spillage.

When Billy returned he had opinions.

“First of all, that shit was gross as hell,” he left the bucket by the front door before returning into the kitchen. “Second of all,” he boxed Steve in with a smirk in his face, “I didn’t know you were so good at pluming.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Finish making the calzones, Bill, and maybe I’ll show you how to fix that hole in the wall behind Max’s photo hanging in the living room. It’s suspiciously shaped like that baseball I told you not to throw around.”

Billy fumbled for his words.

Steve shook his head, “Don’t think you can hide that shit from me, Tiger, I’m the one that dusts.”

===

The next time was when Max and Lucas visited.

“William, do not throw that!” Steve scolded as he held a pan with tomato sauce in it. Lucas dropped his hands that had been ready to try and catch the ball and Max turned a page of her book from where she was on the sofa boredly.

Billy grinned and threw the football anyway, of course. Steve sighed and then grew furious as the same football smashed instantly into the rickety bookshelf and the sad, old thing crumbled on impact. It fell over from Billy’s uncalculated, rebellious force and the shelves snapped apart from the sides. Books strewn out in a messy wave. Steve stomped over and only lowered his near growl of scolding when Billy showed himself already terrified. Max grinned and set her book in her lap to watch.

“What did I say?” Steve demanded while whacking Billy’s shoulder with the oven mitt. The other flapped his hands back to stop the assault.

“I’m sorry!” he yelped, “I’m sorry! We’ll just buy another one!” Steve glared and whacked his head, lighter than before, but still with vigor.

“We don’t have the money, William! We bought the last one at Goodwill for $14!” He bustled back to the kitchen and put the pan into the oven to cook the sauce the rest of the way. “I’ll just have to go down and ask Jeffery to use his wood scraps and nail gun. He’s always kind enough.”

Billy, who had followed him in, looked skeptical, “Jeffery Jeffery or creepy Jeffery?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Old man Jeffery. And Jeff isn’t creepy, he’s just anti-social.”

Billy went unswayed, “I want to go with you. Let’s go,” he went to the coat closet and Steve sighed, unsurprised.

Steve took his coat and boots from Billy and called to the kids, “Lucas, Max, the sauce will be done in a couple hours. If we’re not back by then just take it out and let it cool please!”

“Sorry, Steve!” he heard Lucas say sincerely.

“Got it, Boss!” Max answered with another flutter of a page in her book.

===

While Steve attached the air hose to the nail gun Billy watched with creases in his forehead.

“What are you ogling, Tiger?” Steve asked as he applied wood glue to a piece.

Billy stooped forward, “Can I help?” he was almost eager sounding.

Steve grinned, “I was hoping you’d ask.” He lifted his own hands from holding the planks together, “Hold that as I nail it together would ya?” Billy nodded a bit unsurely but placed his hands and pushed just as Steve had. Steve lined up the gun, pushed down, and pulled the trigger. Billy flinched at the loud noise and Steve set the gun down and stood up from his focused crouch.

“Are you alright,” he cupped Billy’s cheeks, thumbs gently smoothed the corner eye crinkles.

The other nodded and pecked Steve’s forehead before shrugging it off, “Was just surprised is all.” Steve nodded back and smiled kindly before returning as he was before and finished the line of nails.

Not too long later, the book shelf was put together and Steve handed Billy a piece of sand paper. He showed Billy how to use it and he got complaints in return due to the uncomfortable noise it made.

But they did return home with a lovely new bookshelf. And they’d made it together so it was all that extra bit of special.

Maybe Steve didn’t disapprove of that party all those years ago after all. Look what he got out of it?

The smile Billy got whenever he looked at that shelf filled with Steve’s mystery romance and his own horror thrillers, that fond and euphoric smile was enough for Steve Harrington in the long run.

#steve harrington #handyman steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #harringrove #btw that is not actually the correct way to put compound on #just mentioning #and idk why i added a random mr. jimmy but he’s there so oh well #steve harrington’s parents make an actual appearance too #max mayfield and lucas sinclair #don’t mind me sprinkling in more italian backgrounds #hope this was alright!

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imagineaworlds · 4 years ago

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I Love You (Part Thirty-Seven) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of death, torture, panic attack, PTSD-- everything Criminal Minds. Talk of sex, BDSM, Dom/sub relationship, etc.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 11928

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 06. Seven months after part thirty-six.

I huffed as more flour fell off the counter and landed on the tile floor of the kitchen. I promised Hotch that Jack and I would be clean, but it was getting increasingly hard to uphold my end of that deal as Jack tried to start a food fight. I was trying my hardest to not dip a finger into the sugar and drag it onto Jack’s nose. Despite the fact that Jack wanted to make these cookies in the first place, it seemed like I was doing all the work while he was trying to make the world’s biggest mess. Hotch definitely saw this coming. Which, in hindsight, was probably why he tried to warn me away from the task, but I wanted to spend some time with Jack doing something he was excited about. And this was that something. Unfortunately for me.

Jack had jumped onto our bed before we were awake, begging us to help him make some Halloween cookies. Hotch groaned and told him that we could just go buy some at the grocery store— but Jack was adamant that he wanted to make them homemade, just like Haley used to do. Hotch opened his eyes in an instant and looked at me, searching for help that I was refusing to give. I thought that it was a good idea, and if it was tradition, what was the harm. Hotch knew, though. The bastard knew and he didn’t warn me. I mean, he tried to tell me that if it got too messy, it would be my mess to clean up. When I told him, “Make me” after Jack left, Hotch warned that if I didn’t pick up after, then I’d have a problem walking tomorrow.

That threat was enough to convince me to try and baby Jack while we started gathering up all of the ingredients to make the cookies he wanted. It started fun and innocent, but the more bored Jack got with the process, the quicker he was to spiral into chaos. He thought it was funny to stick his hand into the bag of sugar and eat a handful of it. Not only did it just encourage his sugar high that had come with all the candy laying around the house, but it got everywhere. I tried to warn him to not do it again, but he got smart and started chugging the orange and black sprinkles. When I noticed what he was doing, I tickled him to loosen his grip around the bottle, then hid it on a shelf that was too high up for him to reach. Then, as we started rolling the dough, Jack kept trying to steal some to eat raw, which I told him wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t seem to care.

“It tastes good!” he had insisted after I squinted sternly at him.

When the cookies were finally in the oven and I managed to shoo Jack away so that he couldn’t find some way to burn down the house, I started cleaning up the mess we made. There was flour and sugar all over the counters, the floor, and, somehow, the wall. Jack had dropped a few sprinkles, too, but by some miracle, most of them managed to make their way into his mouth before I stole them away. I wiped down the counters after sweeping up the floor first. When that was finished, I grabbed the cookie cutters to put away. Jack had wanted black cat and pumpkin shaped cookies, tossing the ghost shaped cutter to the side the moment he laid eyes on it.

Once the kitchen was clean, I had a few minutes to spare before the cookies would be done baking in the oven. Jack was out in the living room, watching a random Halloween movie; Hotch and Jessica were outside, decorating the house together while talking about Jack, probably. We had been away a lot recently, and Hotch was still worried about Jack since Haley’s death. Because Jessica spent more time with Jack than anyone else, it made sense for him to go to her about his son—

The kitchen timer dinged.

“Jack, go grab Dad and Aunt Jessica!” I called out.

I heard the TV turn off and the front door fly open as I leaned down with oven mitts on to grab the cookie sheet. I set the tray on a pair of hot pads on the counter and sighed while taking off the mitts. The cookies looked good, and they’d be fairly easy to decorate— especially since Jack was probably just going to spray orange and black frosting and sprinkles on them randomly before calling it a day.

Three pairs of footsteps echoed throughout the house, the front door closing behind the last one inside. In a minute, Jack came running up to me, and when he tried to touch the cookie sheet, I pulled his hands away with a warning that it was too hot. Jessica and Hotch walked in shortly after. Hotch hummed happily. I smiled at him to notice that he was taking in the scent of sugar cookies. My nose had grown accustomed to it, but Hotch notes aloud how good it smelled, and I said that it was all Jack’s doing. “And the mess?” Hotch had asked, gesturing to the tiniest bit of sugar and sprinkles under the counter; to which, my smile disappeared, and I squinted at him. He only grinned. He was going to find any reason to tie me down to the bed.

When the cookies had cooled off, Hotch lifted Jack onto the kitchen island and handed him a container of frosting. I handed Jessica the sprinkles. I let her know that she was in charge of them, and not to give Jack the opportunity to throw them everywhere like confetti. She laughed and accepted responsibility if anything were to happen. I put the cookies on a few different paper plates so that the pumpkins and black cats were separated; also, that way Jack and Jessica had their own plates and Hotch and I had a plate to share.

Jack started with the orange frosting. As I suspected, he gripped the tubing with both of his fists, and he started squeezing as much on as he could, not even trying to stay on the cookie. Hotch had to steal it away before he could waste all of it. When we had the orange frosting, I started carefully decorating the two pumpkin shaped cookies we had. I was more careful about staying within the lines and making them look perfect. Jack, on the other hand, now had the black frosting, and he was going at it again, so Hotch had to step over to keep a careful eye on him and help teach him how to properly coat the cookies. I handed the orange frosting to Jessica when I was done with it. Next, I did the black cats. Jack was already biting down on one of his over-frosted cookies, getting crumbs all over his shirt and lap. Looked like it was going to be another random laundry day. That boy was lucky I loved him.

“Here,” I said to Hotch, picking up one of the pumpkin cookies and holding it out for him. He leaned down, taking a handless bite. “Disgusting.”

Hotch smirked while chewing. He snaked his arm around my waist and pulled my side to his chest before kissing my cheek. I leaned away after a moment because of the rough touch of the crumbs on his lips. I laughed at him before dragging my thumb across his lips to brush away the crumbs and frosting. Hotch gently caught my thumb in his mouth and licked off the food. I froze, biting back a moan because we were still around Jack, but I knew that Hotch could see it in my eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” I gave him another bite.

The very next morning, we got a call that there was a case in Detroit that the BAU had been requested for. Two days from then was Halloween. We were supposed to go trick-or-treating with Jack that night, but we were never home in just one day. I mean, unless the Unsub was a complete idiot—or a kid, like what happened over two years ago when Elle left. The odds that we would be home on time to trick-or-treat with Jack was slim to none. It was going to break his heart. We were all so excited to be dressing up together. Since I had been going out with Hotch, we spent the past two Halloweens together. There was always a theme for the three of us. Jack liked it when our costumes all matched so that he could be closer with me and Hotch. This year’s theme was so good. Jack and I were the most excited about it, of course, whereas I think Hotch was just excited about being with Jack and seeing what I would look like in my costume. I didn’t blame him. It was a really good costume. I knew that he was going to like it, but that was only if we got back on time.

Suddenly, Jack walked into our bedroom. The smile he had been wearing on his face slowly disappeared as he saw our half-packed go-bags sitting on the bed. I froze. Glancing between my bag and Jack, I realized how obvious this looked, and that this news was going to absolutely crush him. My initial hope was that I could head down to his bedroom, sit down on his bed with him, and explain that we were heading out for another case, and that we would try to race back as soon as possible. I wanted to break the news gently. However, now that he had just stormed in on us frantically packing up enough stuff for three days, there was no chance Jack was going to listen to anything we had to say.

“Jack—” I tried to start explaining, but he immediately spun around and ran back down the hallway. I looked at Hotch with a quivering lip. “Aaron…”

“I’ve got it.” Hotch leaned in to kiss my cheek on his way out of the bedroom.

When he was gone, I kept packing, though now my pace had slowed because of the guilt dragging me down. Once I had all of my clothes and toiletries neatly organized in my bag, I turned to finish putting Hotch’s stuff away so that we could leave when he was done talking to Jack. The guilt was still there. In fact, I think it only got heavier as I folded Hotch’s pajamas. It wasn’t fair to leave Jack, and we both knew that, but we also had no choice in the matter, and I felt like he knew that deep down, but he still hated it—which was totally valid. Sometimes, I hated leaving. Actually, since Haley’s death, I always hated leaving Jack. If I didn’t love working at the BAU as much as I did, and if I wasn’t so sure that I would be miserable without my job, then I would have quit just to stay home with Jack. But I wouldn’t have liked being a house mom. To be fair, I don’t think Jack would have liked having me hover around all the time, though, either. I think he wanted us around more, but he still liked some of the freedom that came with having us out of the house. Someday, he was going to be grateful we were gone so often. Before we would know it, he was going to be in high school, and he was going to be pushing us out of the house so that he could host or attend parties. Until then, he just wanted us there. He just wanted his parents—and since he couldn’t have his mom, he wanted me there. Sometimes timing and fate just fucking sucked.

I zipped up our bags and lifted them off the bed. Sighing heavily, I carried them out of the bedroom, and down the hall to Jack’s room. I heard Hotch talking to him quietly. As I turned the corner, I saw Jack lying on his bed, cheek pressed against the pillow, his face smushed and pouting. Hotch had a hand rubbing soft, slow circles on Jack’s back, while the other one supported his crouched position by holding onto his knee. When they heard me enter, Jack looked up at me, but Hotch didn’t.

“We promise, buddy, we’ll try to be home on time for trick-or-treating,” Hotch said. Jack didn’t look convinced, though. “Come on, bud… Can we get a smile?”

“You never miss Halloween.”

“I missed Halloween a few years ago.”

“Yeah, so Mom took me trick-or-treating.”

Hotch and I froze. This wasn’t Jack’s first Halloween without his mom, but it was the first Halloween we were celebrating with her. Since it was about this time last year that we were still mourning her death, none of us were exactly racing to go trick-or-treating. But we had been doing well in the year or so since then. Jack’s therapy was really helping him cope and understand what happened to him and his mom. Hotch was still going to therapy, too. Despite his protests about going and his insistence that he didn’t need it anymore, I still drove him every Tuesday and Thursday to meet with a Bureau therapist that understood the full extent of what happened, and I sat just outside the door the entire time to make sure Hotch wouldn’t try to escape early. We were doing well. Really well.

Still, though, it was in moments like this when Jack would bring up his mom and how she would miss something special to us that we would be caught off guard. He didn’t understand, of course. All he knew was that he mentioned his mom and the two of us would become speechless. He wasn’t old enough to understand yet that we didn’t know how to navigate handling Haley’s death and raising a five year old kid who had countless questions. He wanted to know why on Earth we would potentially be leaving him alone on Halloween night when we promised we would be there. He wanted to know why we weren’t doing more now that his mom was gone. And the worst part was, neither Hotch nor I had an answer for Jack. We just had to try and hold onto our promise that we would be back in time to take him trick-or-treating, and that he wouldn’t be without a parent this time of year. I didn’t care if I would have to leave the case early. If it meant getting back to my little man to make sure he was alright, I was going to do whatever it took.

I sat on the edge of his bed and pushed his hair back. “We’ll be here. I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” I reached out to hug him, and he let me, even going as far to hug me back with a little more force than I was expecting. “I love you, little man.”

“I love you, too.”

I kissed his temple before pulling away to let Hotch hug him. When we had said our goodbyes, and I felt somewhat reassured that Jack was alright with us leaving, we got in the car and started driving to Quantico.

We were headed to Detroit—which was absolute chaos that time of year. The local PD had noticed a three year trend in the days leading up to Halloween where he was only killing for those three days, and then he would disappear. At first, they thought it was nothing. However, last night, they had another case matching the last two years exactly. By then, it was clear to them that they needed a helping hand with this case, hence why we were being called in at the last minute; and hence why we were already on the jet and not meeting in the boardroom. With one night gone, there were only two nights left before the Unsub would disappear. If we didn’t catch him before then, we would have to wait another year. There was no fucking way I was going to let that happen. I wasn’t going to miss this year’s Halloween and next year’s Halloween with my son because of some asshole in Michigan, of all places. This Unsub who was burning his victims alive would have hell to pay if I broke my little man’s heart two years in a row.

Yeah, this guy, in all of his psychotic glory, was going out of his way to burn three victims over the span of three days, then proceeded to dump them all in random places around the city. Unfortunately for him, the first last night got a little out of hand, so before he could hide the body, the fire department was already made aware of the burning abandoned warehouse, and they were on their way. So, the Unsub left the body and ran.

By the time we were landing, Hotch had already dispersed assignments. Hotch, Rossi, Emily, Spencer, and JJ were all headed to the precinct to start the profile since we were in a rush, and in the meantime, Morgan and I were headed to the crime scene to get a look at what happened for ourselves. The local fire department—the ones who called us in—had done their best examining the scene on their own, but they were trained to look for human interference in dangerous fires. We had a vastly different skill set. Knowing that we were dealing with a serial killer gave us the upper hand since we knew what we were dealing with, but the FD just didn’t get that since it wasn’t their job.

As we pulled up to the warehouse where the most recent crime scene had been discovered, it suddenly made sense to us why he had chosen this place. Out of the entire city, this area was extremely neglected. It was quiet, and at night it was probably dark, and the seclusion meant that no one could stop him. That was… unless someone happened to be passing by and saw the fire. Unfortunately for him, someone did pass by and call 9-1-1 for that very reason, ruining his plans—whatever they were. We knew that we would learn more inside.

“Hello,” a man standing in the doorway of the warehouse said to us, waving in our direction as we got out of the car. He approached us. “Al Garner with the Detroit Fire Department.” Morgan shook his hand first while introducing us. I smiled and shook his hand. “I’ll be showing you guys around inside.”

As we started walking, Morgan asked, “Do you guys get a lot of fires this time a year?”

“When I first started working for the DFD, we had about 600 fires during the three days leading up to Devil’s Night. Nowadays, people are more concerned with drinking themselves to death than lighting fires. As of last night, we’re only down to 118.” He pointed to the door, “Our city-wide Neighborhood Watch program has really helped. We’re shorthanded down at the DFD, so volunteers really make or break it.”

I looked at Morgan, sharing a look that said, “Volunteers? People willing to thrust themselves into the investigations. Great.” So, I asked Al, “How many volunteers do you guys have now?”

He was leading us through the halls inside of the warehouse. “A thousand.”

“A thousand people?”

“They’re spread out all over the city. One of the volunteers actually called in this fire last night.”

“We’ll need to talk to them,”

“I’ll arrange for that.”

“And we’ll need the roster for all of your volunteers,” Morgan said.

“Whatever you guys need. But, do you guys really think that he’s one of them?” he asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

I shrugged. “We can’t rule anything out just yet.”

Really, though, the likelihood was ridiculously high. I could remember that the last big arson case we worked on was years ago. It always stuck out to me because Hotch and I had only just started dating, and somehow, the case got personal for him because the Unsub was killing families in their own homes, and our main suspect was a family man—a father who was just trying to do his best… Like Hotch. At the time, I didn’t know how to comfort him with that stuff. I knew that he was struggling to sit in that hospital room with the one victim who had survived the attack, and I knew that he was trying to clear this guy’s name, even though the evidence was stacked against him. In the end, though, Hotch was right. As always.

Our Unsub turned out to be an eco-radical that believed that the best way to create change and to get revenge on people for mistreating the Earth was by setting people on fire. It was a twisted way of thinking. But, then again, most sociopaths didn’t make sense, anyhow. But when our suspect found out who the real Unsub was—that he was a man who had been trying to help the FBI find whoever was really responsible, he went to end it once and for all.

I would never forget watching Gideon and Morgan as they held a distraught Hotch back. He was screaming and pushing, begging that we do something to help the innocent man trapped inside the burning building. But there was nothing we could do. That was the outcome of what happened when two people injected themselves into an investigation that they were emotionally connected to. Hotch had to watch another father die, and it killed him. And this was before Foyet—long before Foyet. There were no concerns that Hotch wouldn’t be able to protect his own family. He had just grown so close to that man during the investigation, connecting about their sons, their wives, and even their abusive fathers.

So, when it came to arson cases like these, I was wary now of “volunteers” that were there to help us with the investigation. I worried even more about Hotch. Now that Haley was gone—which was still a fresh wound thirteen months later—he was vulnerable to his empathy. He was a good man who cared a lot for other people, and he spent his entire life trying to save and protect strangers for that very reason, but he also knew that he couldn’t save everyone. He wanted to. Out of everyone in the world, he wanted to save the one person he should have always been there to protect, but… he failed… I hated admitting that. But he did. We both recognized that he failed to save Haley. However, he was never going to fail again, that much I knew. He was going to do whatever it took to protect me, Jack, and the rest of the world. Over the next two days, if we were to meet anyone with any type of tragic backstory, I knew that Hotch would break. There was just too much overlap between that old arson case and the sting of Haley’s death.

This crime scene, in particular, was in an abandoned engine factory, according to Al. That wasn’t uncommon in Detroit. Half of the city was filled with places just like this that had been ignored by companies once they moved onto bigger and better things, leaving a desolate building for the locals to maintain or pay to have demolished, which they obviously didn’t have the money for. But that was what attracted people like our Unsubs to them. With no one around, they were the perfect grounds for crimes and squatting. Druggies, homeless people, criminals, and high school kids all sought out freedom in building like these. But that just made our jobs that much harder.

The victim had been tied to a pole on top of a pyre in the middle of the room. Leading from the door to the pyre were drag tracks, a mixture of blood, dirt, gasoline, and soot. The only concern I had about that was that it was clear that the Unsub had dragged the victim in through the door we entered in, too, but the oil and soot told us that he also stood there while watching the victim burn. That was what didn’t make sense. In that massive warehouse, there were hundreds of better places to stand and watch it if he were a Sadist.

“How fast did it take for responders to get onto the scene?” I asked the Fire Department Chief.

“Less than five minutes.”

“So, for three years in a row, this guy has been able to uphold a pattern, despite the DFD and the local Neighborhood Watch program lurking around, keeping an eye out for guys just like him. How does he get away with that?”

Morgan shrugged. “Well, if he’s one of them, it’s easy to ensure no one comes in his area.”

“Yeah… But, then, how did he not know that there was a witness around? And why doesn’t it say that anyone else on the roster should have been in this area?”

“Because he’s not one of them.”

I nodded. “Exactly. There has to be another way that he can keep track of the fire department’s response times.”

Morgan stayed silent as he considered and continued circling the pyre. When a thought struck him, he looked over at me. “A police radio scanner.” He stopped. “They all share the same form of communication so that the police, firefighters, and paramedics can arrive on scene as fast as possible. If he hears on the scanner that the fire has already been called in, he stops watching, turns, and leaves as fast as he can. He’s gone before the firefighters are in the firetruck.”

“And as long as he stays in his safety zone, Rivertown,” I said, referencing where we were standing and where all of the other bodies had been found, “he knows how fast he needs to be.”

“This is worse than we thought…”

I nodded an agreement.

While we were gone, Reid and Hotch had been reviewing victimology, trying to find something that could connect all seven victims so far in the hopes of leading us straight to the Unsub. However, they were nose down in papers when we walked in. Even as Morgan and I sat down across from them, waiting to be caught up to date, Hotch and Reid kept reading and talking amongst themselves. And then Reid perked up with eureka.

“I couldn’t find any overlap, per say,” he began explaining to the four of us, “but I think I might have something interesting here.” He opened a file up to an 180 degree angle, then set it down in the middle of the boardroom table so that we could all see. “Tommy Proctor, our first victim, was a convicted felon. He was buried, unlike the other victims, which meant that our Unsub likely knew him.”

“Or, he could have just felt remorse since it was his first kill,” I countered.

That was how Reid and I always were. We pushed back on each other’s ideas and wisdom because it kept us on our toes, and it was really the only kinds of interactions we had at all. Since Haley’s death, we hadn’t been as witty with each other. I think he was scared to push back against me, especially since the team had been turning to me more while Hotch was still out of the office and there needed to be a smooth transition of power. I think he was also scared of breaking me. When Tobias Hankle took him, I remember the worry that was knotting in the pit of my stomach because we couldn’t afford to lose our boy genius… and, in some odd way, I could tell that Reid felt the same way about me and Hotch during the Foyet chaos. But now we were getting back into a rhythm. By pushing back against him, it was my way of telling him that I liked how we used to interact, and that he could give me shit for not knowing what I was talking about sometimes, or if I missed something obvious—since noticing small things quickly was supposed to be my thing.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Reid argued directly at me. “The autopsy report shows that there were multiple botched attempts to burn Proctor, which means that—”

“The Unsub didn’t know how difficult it is to burn a body.”

Reid grinned slightly at our scrimmage. “Precisely.”

The door suddenly opened, Rossi entering as fast as he could, his suit jacket flying behind him like a cape. Emily was following just behind him. She closed the door as Rossi continued pacing while thinking over-time. “So, I just finished talking to the wife of last night’s victim. During her comprehensive, she recalls seeing the Unsub. He’s a tall, black, mid-twenty year old guy with a burn on his face.

“Well, that gives us a stressor,” I said, relaxing back in my seat.

“And the M.O. makes a lot more sense now,” Reid said.

Hotch agreed. “Yeah, but our Unsub probably wasn’t burned at a stake. There are hundreds of burn victims a year—”

“Thousands, actually.”

“Thousands,” Hotch corrected himself with a scoff. “The information helps, but it doesn’t give us a name. How are we supposed to narrow it down?”

“What if Reid and I were wrong?” I asked. I waited for someone else to say something—especially Reid—but everyone just stared at me blankly; so, I continued, “What if he did know how hard it is to burn a body, but the botched burns were actually his way of torturing Tommy Proctor, and then he actually did bury him because it was personal.”

Taking all of our different theories, we all split up to separate sides of the boardroom to start brainstorming. There was a piece here that we were missing. I wasn’t sure what it was, and Emily didn’t seem to understand either while she was working with me. We were trying to make the remorse theory work. Even though all of the other scenes didn’t show any sign of remorse at face value, I knew I could eventually see it if I just went through every single piece of evidence. Again, I had to prove to myself and the team that I wasn’t completely worthless. When my mind was too busy with other things, it was impossible for me to pull through with my “thing” as the one person who could just look at things and then immediately recognize them and profile them, and I knew that it was damn near impossible because every time I saw the word “Halloween”, I thought about how Jack was sitting at home, waiting and hoping that we would be back on time to take him trick-or-treating.

And then it suddenly hit me.

I stood quickly, rushing to gather up all of the files in front of me and order them so that I could see a similarity that I was catching onto. Reid said that he didn’t see any connections, but there was something he always overlooked. Relationships. He sucked at recognizing how important relationships were to people—whether they were romantic, familial, or platonic. That was his one blind spot because he never had a connection like that before with anyone who mattered, except for his mother. I mean, he had used people as surrogates, but they all left him, so he had since failed to see how people could hold their connection to someone over all else when he had always been put second to other things or other people. But not me and Hotch. He and I were everything to each other, and Jack was our everything. Period. We held those connections more dearly than anything else. It was possible that the Unsub felt the same way.

Everyone stopped what they were working on in order to watch me closely. When I found what I was looking for, though, I took a step back, letting it settle in my mind before I decided to tell them. Each of the victims had been taken in front of a loved one. A partner, a child, even a sibling. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. It was easier to take someone when they were isolated to ensure that there were no witnesses, and that no one could stop you. But this Unsub specifically chose people who were with someone who meant everything to them. This was all a part of his M.O. His ritual included taking someone from their loved one.

“He was burned in front of someone he loved…” I mumbled. Hotch cocked a brow at me. “He’s taking his victims in front of people,” I explained turning the files so that the team could see the connection I made. Reid furrowed his brows in confusion. I could tell that he didn’t understand how it was that he overlooked something as simple as that. I shook off a smirk. “He—”

Hotch’s phone started ringing. As he answered, his face immediately fell. The call was quick, barely even giving him a chance to thank the person reaching out to him. “There’s been another abduction,” Hotch told us.

“How do we know that it’s our guy?” Rossi inquired.

“Because his daughter told the responding officers that a monster took her dad.”

So, I was right… I wish I hadn’t hit the nail on the head so perfectly like that—or at least I wished I would have seen it sooner, because maybe that girl would still be with her father instead of asking why this happened to him.

“Garcia’s sending the police report to us now,” Hotch continued, our phones buzzing just on time. We all looked down to review what the girl had told the officers.

Christopher Edwards, thirty-five, white, single father, lived in the suburbs. Seemingly normal life. Actually, his life, on paper, appeared to be perfect, except for the fact that his wife left him and his daughter three years ago, shortly after she gave birth. Since then, he had to up his game in order to support his family, so he became a local contractor in Rivertown… our Unsub’s safe hunting grounds. He was burning all of the bodies in that area, which meant that area was extremely important to him—in fact, it could have been where he was burned in the first place. All of this could be revenge for what happened to him.

“Garcia,” I said after Morgan got her on the phone for all of us, “Christopher Edwards, what subcontractors did he work with?”

She scoffed. “The list is huge. Do you have any more parameters?”

“Anything that requires fire.”

“Cross reference that with anyone who’s part of the volunteer neighborhood watch, baby girl,” Morgan said. I nodded an agreement since it was a good idea. As we had suspected earlier while down at the warehouse, he was probably inserting himself into the investigation by staying on the watch.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, baby girl, there’s gotta be something.”

“Okay, give me a second. Let me switch some things around here, and maybe I’ll find a name buried in here somewhere—Ah! I’m amazing! His name is Kaman Scott.”

“How are you so sure?” Emily asked.

“Because, growing up, Kaman Scott was on track to practically be the bad boy turned convict. His family was poor, his education fell through, and he had been arrested multiple times in his teenage years. Only, in 2004, something happened to make him clean up his act and get his life together. After that change, there’s no sign of bad behavior. Actually, he’s the poster boy for a guy just trying to make it in an unfair world.”

“Maybe that’s when he met someone,” Rossi theorized. “That introduction gave him a reason to become a better person. What normally does that?” he asked rhetorically.

“Love,” Hotch answered, anyhow.

“But how do you go from changing your life in 2004 for someone you love to killing three people every year in 2009?” Morgan asked.

“A breakup.”

“Okay. So, then, where did the burn come from?”

“The breakup was probably a result of the burn. So, we need to look for something that happened in Kaman’s life—”

“Already found it,” Garcia interrupted. “In 2005, Kaman and his first victim, Tommy Proctor, were in a car accident, which resulted in Kaman’s car blowing up.”

“There’s the revenge,” Rossi said.

“How come he was stagnant between 2005 and 2009?” I asked.

Garcia’s keyboard clacked into the microphone of the call for a moment. “According to the accident report, Tommy walked away without a scratch, but Kaman was put into a coma. While he was out of it, he lost his job, his home—Oh! Oh, my! His landlord was Tony Torrell—the most recent victim.”

“Does Kaman have any family or friends that we could talk to?”

“No… But I just sent you guys his address.”

Hotch looked between me and Morgan. “You guys go check it out.” We nodded and started making our way out. Hotch grabbed my wrist before I could walk past him. “Be careful.”

I smiled and nodded, though I wanted to lean down to kiss him more than anything in the world. “I will.” I would just have to kiss him later.

That was all I could think on our drive to Kaman Scott’s house, though. That one kiss. Getting home to Jack and getting time alone with Hotch was all I needed in life nowadays. Holding onto that hope, knowing that they loved me, and I loved them, and holding my breath until I was at home with them again was what pushed me through every case. I suddenly understood what it was that my parents were always racing home for. My mom traveled the world for the CIA, working on all of these covert operations that we could never have any information about, which made growing up hard; but when she would come, she would set everything to the side just to be with my dad, me, and Elle. My dad wasn’t gone as often. Since he worked at the Academy, there were times when he was called away to do certain things, but he was usually more hands on with me and Elle. In a way, I supposed Hotch was like my mother, and Haley was like my dad. Only, now, Jack didn’t have someone who was with him all of the time—or at least the majority of the time. Yeah, Jessica was a rockstar for offering to help around with Jack whenever we were out of town, but… Jack needed someone there with him… But it couldn’t be me or Hotch. As bad as it sounded, we couldn’t live without our jobs.

When Morgan and I arrived at Kaman’s apartment, we didn’t even bother putting on vests. Since the report had come in that another person had gone missing, we knew that he would be all the way in Rivertown, completing his ritual while the team was searching for him there and Morgan and I were putting the pieces together at the apartment as much as we could. But the door was locked. On the drive over, Hotch had gotten a judge to sign a warrant, which meant that we could go in without an invitation. So, Morgan took a step back, then kicked the door in.

As we hurried inside, I tried to flip on a light switch since it was so dark, but the lights just wouldn’t turn on. I huffed. No light, no mirrors, no windows… It was going to be impossible to navigate our way around. The best we could do was to grab our flashlights and start using them to find clues as to who Kaman Scott was, where he was, and who his next victim was going to be. If we couldn’t stop this murder, we could at least stop the next one.

“Look at this,” Morgan finally said. I made my way around the room to meet up with him in a corner where he saw a collection of gas cans cluttered together. And they were all full. “He’s prepared.”

I shook my head at how ridiculous this was. There was no way for him to see out into the world—or more specifically, no way for the world to see him. There was nothing personal in his apartment. No pictures, décor, even DVDS. There was nothing in there that told us who Kaman Scott was as a person, and not just an Unsub. He was human at one point, right? He had lived a life with someone that made him happy, and yet there wasn’t a single hint of her anywhere. Even if they broke up as a result of his car crash, his obsession should have still been obvious. It was curious that he was hiding it so well.

And then, as if it were a miracle or Morgan could read my mind, he said, “Greenaway.” I turned to him again to see that he had just flipped Kaman’s mattress to find a diary hidden underneath. “There’s his obsession.” He pointed to the scrapbook of pages that were dedicated to whichever girl it was that Kaman had clearly been dating before his accident. “There’s no name in her.”

“He was covering his tracks.”

“We profiled him as organized, but this is a little much, don’t you think?”

“Not really. If he really wanted to keep her all to himself, he might go to extra lengths to make sure no one can find her.”

“Yeah, well, I know someone who can,” he teased, digging for his phone in his back pocket.

I smirked at how he was off to go call his “baby girl” to help us find whoever it was that Kaman was so obsessed with. Using facial recognition, she would be able to deduce it within minutes—maybe even seconds. She was good like that. Since her attack nearly two years ago, we had all been trying to appreciate her more since what she did was incredibly important to our work, and without her, we would be struggling to close cases as effortlessly as we were.

“We have a problem,” Morgan said, catching my attention. “Hotch and Chief Garner just found the most recent victim’s body dumped in Rivertown.”

“So, he’s on his endgame.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Garcia said over the phone, “I can’t find her. She’s not showing up in my database.”

“How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“And we really don’t have time to figure out why,” Hotch said on the call, too. “Garcia, is there anything recognizable in the photos to help give us a lead? Maybe a home address, school address, work—”

“Jay-Mo’s diner.”

“What?” I questioned.

“Jay-Mo’s diner,” she repeated. “It’s in the background of all of the photos.”

Hotch asked Chief Garner if he had ever heard of Jay-Mo’s, to which the fireman agreed. “We’ll head there now,” Hotch said.

“And we’ll meet you there so that we can regroup,” Morgan offered. It was a good idea, and it was a plan that seemed sufficient enough to Hotch so that he could hang up on us.

As we were pulling up to the diner, I could see a hint of red and orange hues that came from a roaring blaze inside. The closer we got, the more I could see it growing. The windows suddenly burst open. Just as Morgan put the car in park, I saw Hotch’s SUV parked on the curb just ahead, the driver’s side door completely open. My heart sped up. The realization dawned on me the moment I saw two shadows of men moving about inside the diner.

“No—” I struggled to get my seatbelt off. My wrist was still stuck against the buckle when I opened the door and started stumbling out of the car in an attempt to get to the diner and run inside to help Hotch. “Fuck. Come on.” I pulled against the seatbelt until it released me. “Hotch!” I shrieked, jumping forward to run to him. Morgan caught me in his arms, though, and held me back. “Hotch!” I clawed at Morgan’s grip. “Aaron!” The door to the diner opened up, and I saw Hotch stumbling out while carrying someone along. “Aaron!” I kicked Morgan’s ankle to get him to release me, but all he did was groan and constrict his arms around my waist until I couldn’t move. And then the diner blew up. “No!” I cried as Hotch and the man he was helping along flew forward onto their stomachs.

In his state of shock, Morgan released me. The second my feet were back on the ground, I started racing towards the sidewalk outside of the burning building, where Hotch and the man were groaning and writhing in pain. As I fell to my feet, Hotch looked up at me. I put my hands on his face. He was blinking dramatically, and looking around blindly, just like he did in New York. I told him to stay still. Morgan came running up to check on the man Hotch pulled out of the diner. While he called out for the paramedics, I kept my hold on Hotch’s face, trying to calm him down.

“I’m fine…” he groaned.

“Your ears—”

“They’re not ringing.”

“Your back—”

“I’m fine, Y/N. I swear. I’m not lying.”

I pressed my palms to his cheeks a little harder to keep him steady as I searched his eyes and body language for any of his tells. He was telling the truth. “Don’t ever do that again, Aaron Hotchner. I mean it. Don’t ever scare me like that again, so help me—”

He sat up and kissed me. “I’m okay.”

“Please stop doing this to me,” I whispered calmly. “Please.”

He groaned as he started pushing himself to his feet so that we could move out of the way for the paramedics that were trying to attend to the man Hotch pulled out. We glanced over to see Morgan holding a gash on his leg together until an EMT stepped in to trade places with him, so Morgan stumbled over to stand with us, too.

I was still holding onto Hotch. Ensuring that he was really okay, and not just lying to me about his health, like he had a tendency to do, was my top priority. There were medics helping the man he dragged out. Morgan wasn’t hurt. I was okay. Now, all I needed to be sure of was Hotch. He was an asshole when it came to his own health and safety. He always did everything in his power to protect those around him, and to make sure that they were alright; but he never let anyone show him the same courtesy. That was, unless I was babying him. But I didn’t want to baby him. I wanted to trust that for once—since Haley, at least—he could see that I needed to know immediately when something was wrong, and I needed to know the full extent of whatever was wrong with him whenever something bad happened. I just couldn’t afford to lose him like he lost Haley. I couldn’t fucking do it. In fact, I couldn’t even think about it. I didn’t want to imagine what could have happened if he had wasted another few seconds while saving that man in that diner. As noble as it was, it was ridiculously foolish. What was I supposed to do if he died? Raise Jack on my own? How? How was I supposed to do that without him? How was Jack supposed to grow up without a mom and a dad? Fuck Hotch for not thinking that through. Fuck him—

And then I flung my arms around his neck.

“I mean it, Aaron…” I mumbled into his neck.

As he wrapped his arms around my waist and hid his face in the crook of my neck, too, he whispered, “I couldn’t let him die in there.”

“And I couldn’t let you die in there, either.” I kissed his cheek. “We promised we would be home on time to take him trick-or-treating… Don’t make me a liar.”

Hotch turned to kiss my lips. “I’m sorry, baby.”

It was a little overdramatic to be all over each other and talking like that, but seeing him risk his life like that could only remind me of Haley. Every single danger that was thrown in our path just reminded me of her. It was like flashes. Victims, Unsubs, Hotch at work, even Jack getting pushed around at soccer… I couldn’t shake it. It was like a bad taste in my mouth. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get over it. I thought I was doing better. In fact, I knew I was getting better. It had been thirteen months since I found her on our carpet like that. Thirteen months should have been long enough. Yet, it wasn’t. The only comfort I had was holding him in my arms— alive. It wasn’t like watching him hold Haley’s dead body in his arms. He was alive. He was okay.

“Hotch!” Morgan called, running over to the man on the ground. “He’s saying something.”

We parted from our hug so that Hotch could fall to his knees beside the victim and hold his hand as he tried to croak something into Hotch’s ear. “Tra—” he tried to say. “T—” He was just too weak from the throw of the explosion. “Trac… Tracy…”

“Tracy?” Morgan clarified.

“Yes…”

“Who’s Tracy?” Hotch asked.

“Tracy…”

“Who is that?”

“Tracy…”

“Sir, you have to move again,” one of the paramedics insisted.

So, we had gone to the diner with the lead that Kaman’s girlfriend used to go there all the time. It was a far-fetched lead, and we weren’t at all sure if it would pan out, but we had to try, and it was a good thing we did because we managed to save a man’s life in the process. But the girlfriend… The owner had given us a name: Tracy. We knew that the Unsub wasn’t a woman, so the owner of the diner must have known what we were there and who it was we wanted to know about. Kaman’s girlfriend’s name was Tracy. That was the logical explanation. The only question now was… Tracy who? And how were we supposed to find her?

I grabbed my phone and dialed Garcia’s number. “Garcia—”

“Is Hotch okay? He told me he was heading to the diner, and he told me he was heading in while we were on the phone, but all I heard was an explosion before it cut out—”

“He’s fine, Garcia. I promise.”

I heard her sigh with relief. “Thank Heavens.”

“I need you to look at the family that owns this diner. Is the owner of Jay-Mo’s related to a Tracy?”

“Lemme look…” she mumbled while typing. “Oh—Yeah. Tracy Anderson. She lives in Ohio—”

“No, she would be nearby. Where do her parents live?”

“Indian Village. It’s five miles from where you are.”

I hadn’t even realized that Hotch was listening to the call because I had put it on speaker in order to fidget with texting Emily everything I was learning. Before I could do or say anything, Hotch was getting in his black SUV again, this time dragging the DFD Chief with him.

“God fucking dammit,” I cursed under my breath. The chief probably knew the best way to get there and probably where the Andersons lived if the diner really was all that, as he said it was. That gave Hotch the upper hand. “Garcia, we need the address. The whole team does.”

“Already sent.”

My phone buzzed just as she said it. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Be safe.”

Morgan and I hurried back to our car, racing to catch up to Hotch as dispatch put out the address to the rest of the police and fire forces. Since the drive was short and practically past the sheriff’s department, we were leading a line of speeding vehicles with lights and sirens. We had the whole cavalry. It was going to be okay.

And then the son of a bitch had to say the one thing I absolutely didn’t want to hear just then. “Everyone needs to stand down,” Hotch whispered into his comm. I cocked a brow. What the fuck was he talking about? Stand down? Why? “I just need one guy from SWAT, that’s all.”

Morgan started coming to a slow and steady stop, reaching to turn off the lights and sirens, just like all of the other cars around us were doing. I sat up straight. What the fuck was he doing? No! This wasn’t right. We had to go help Hotch because he promised me that he wouldn’t keep doing this to me. I told him that he couldn’t keep putting himself in harm’s way just for a case when our little man was waiting at home for him—when our family just couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. Ever.

“Morgan,” I said urgently, “go.”

“No.” He turned off the car.

I turned to open the car door, but he locked it and put the child locks on. My face fell. “Derek Morgan, let me out—”

“Hotch gave us orders.”

My heart started pounding in my chest. I glanced out the side window, pressing my forehead against the cold window, watching as it started to rain. I’d never felt trapped like this before. This wasn’t even that dramatic compared to that day when Foyet took Haley from us; yet I found that my heart was so heavy with worry that night. At least someone had been trying to help the day Haley died. We were all in a car together, racing there as fast as we could, trying to beat Foyet before he could kill Jack and Hotch, too. The worry I had about not knowing if Hotch was okay or not was the same exact worry I had coursing through my veins when I thought that phone call was the last time I would ever get to tell him that I loved him, and that I would end up finding all three of them dead in our house.

“Y/N, this is just another day on the job. Remember what that was like?” Morgan asked me quietly. “The two of you always used to run into stupid shit like this because that’s part of the job, and that’s part of the dumb fucking thoughts you two always have running in your heads that it’s better if one of you go down than someone else on the team. So, now, you get to sit here and listen to his orders and worry about him the same way we always had to listen and worry about you guys.”

“I hate you.”

“Get in line,” he teased.

To be fair, when I did “stupid shit like this”, I wasn’t responsible for a son. I mean… I was, but… It was different because Jack had Hotch and Haley if something ever happened to me. But now it was just me and Hotch. And, in some weird way, I was still okay with Jack losing me over Hotch, because at least he would still have his dad—his own flesh and blood. If it were me in Hotch’s shoes in that moment, telling the team to stay back, I would’ve been comforted by the fact that Jack wouldn’t be alone still. But if Hotch died… That felt different. After everything, neither Jack nor I would know how to live like that.

“Sunshine, we’re going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.”

“We shouldn’t have let him become the unit chief again so soon—”

“It’s been over a year,” Morgan tried to explain to me.

I scoffed. “I know how long it’s been… I think about it every day…”

Morgan stayed quiet. Neither of us knew what to say now. I had practically snapped at him, though I hadn’t meant it, and I was sure he was aware of that. It still hurt, though. It hurt me, too. But I was so drained by my worry and running around, chasing after Hotch every time he went off to do “stupid shit like this”. We couldn’t afford to do this anymore. I knew that neither of us were going to quit the FBI because that just wasn’t like us, and we were always unhappy when we weren’t in the field; but I was getting tired of this. Things had to have a happy upturn sooner than later. Something good needed to happen soon. If we were cursed to always be upset like this, it was going to be the death of me.

“We’re clear in here,” Hotch said over the comm.

Within an instant, Morgan turned the car back on and started driving, meanwhile I worked to get the lights and sirens back on. The parade of black SUVs and police squad cars followed suit, taking our lead as we continued around the corner and towards the house. The DFD Chief was standing on the driveway, waving us over. As we pulled up onto the curb, I unlocked the car and jumped out, grabbing ahold of my gun, which was holstered on my hip, and my handcuffs, which were clipped onto my back—a trick Elle taught Morgan, which he then taught me.

Inside, Hotch was helping to free an old man and woman who were tied to the dining room table. Kaman, our Unsub, was on his knees, hugging a little boy as his mother stood close by. I slowed and furrowed my brows. Why hadn’t Hotch arrested Kaman yet? Why was he— Oh. I realized quickly what the situation was, so I released my hold on my gun and my handcuffs so that I could bar anyone else from entering until Hotch gave the go ahead, because there was no way I was going to arrest a father in front of his own son. I couldn’t imagine how that would feel. If someone arrested Hotch in front of Jack, I would have been furious, but upset because I would never in a million years want Jack to have to witness something like that. So, we were going to wait until the opportune moment.

Just as Hotch finished freeing the man and woman, he pushed himself to his feet and backed up towards me. “Go ahead,” he whispered to me.

I nodded, understanding that he wouldn’t want to make the arrest at all. So, I carefully approached Kaman and his family, leaning in to whisper into Tracy’s ear that it would be best if he took her son outside for a minute. She nodded. Kaman was pried away from his son, reaching out uselessly for another touch or interaction that wouldn’t come. When his son was gone, his mother having carried him out in her arms, I grabbed my handcuffs again, this time flashing them in front of Kaman so he knew what was happening; then, as I cuffed him, I recited the Miranda Rights for him, all while he was silent. I brought him to his feet when he was secured. An officer was then sent in to retrieve Kaman and take him outside.

Telling by the look on Hotch’s face, I knew that he didn’t want to spend another second in that house, but he wasn’t going to leave as long as I was in there either. So, I started walking out. As I strode past him, I made a gesture with my head for him to follow me outside without saying anything. He did.

When we were on the driveway with the rest of the team and the platoon of police that had come with us, I crossed my arms and watched as Kaman was led through the crowd. Morgan was standing by the car, watching us, a small smirk on his face that said: “I told you it would be okay. It’s always okay.” And I damn near wanted to smack that smirk away.

“You okay?” I asked Hotch worriedly.

He nodded. “Yeah. I just…” He turned over his shoulder to see the officers putting Kaman in the squad car. “Him and his son… They reminded me…” He sighed when Kaman’s son pressed his hands against the window of the squad car so that he could see his dad again.

“They reminded you of Jack?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Baby,” I cooed, grabbing his hand. I kissed his knuckles gently like he would always do with me when he was bored or wanted to comfort me. “Let’s go home.”

As I opened the door, Hotch pinched my hip, making me yelp playfully before kissing him. We both froze when we saw Jessica standing there, her arms crossed over her chest, a slight smile hiding by her faux anger. I bit my lip and laughed. It felt like I had just been caught bringing a boy home by my mother. The way she was staring at us disapprovingly, tapping her foot against the wood floor, but still somewhat happy to see me, and to see me happy. Actually, if anything, it felt like being caught by Elle.

“You guys are back early,” Jessica noted with a slight uptick in her voice, signaling that she was ecstatic about our sudden appearance. Her and Jack must have been way too skeptical about us coming back on time. “He’s doing homework upstairs.”

“On Halloween?” I questioned.

“He didn’t think you guys were coming, and he said he didn’t want to go trick-or-treating with me.”

And then we heard the pattering of little feet overhead. Jack must have seen our car pulling into the driveway because he was running as fast as he could down the hallway upstairs, racing for the steps, at which point, we heard him jumping down the steps. He knew he wasn’t supposed to run in the house. It was a bad habit, and we didn’t need him putting holes in the walls because he would crash into something or someone. But I would let it slide this one time. I could overlook him running in the house simply for the sake of getting to see him sooner.

I gasped playfully, “Look who it is!” Jack kept running at me, his arms quickly widening out so that I could brace my hands under his shoulders and lift him up into my arms. I hugged him close to my chest and kissed his cheeks over and over again. “It’s my little man!” I smacked one last kiss on his cheek. “Are you ready to trick-or-treat?” Jack nodded. I squeezed him tight. “Go get into your costume, then, okay?”

Jack slid out of my arms. After taking Jessica’s hand, the two of them ran upstairs together to help him get into his costume. Our theme this year was superheroes. Jack was on a kick with Spider-Man instead of Superman these days, so his dream since we started talking about what he was going to dress up as was to be Spider-Man. When he decided on superheroes, Hotch and I had to start figuring out what we were going to do. Hotch got lazy by digging into his closet to find an old t-shirt he had with Superman’s logo on it. He decided that he was going to pair that with a pair of jeans and call it a day. Meanwhile, I was dressing up as Wonder Woman—which I took deadly seriously by going out to find a real, good quality costume that fit me. It had a tight red top, low cut gold collar, short blue skirt, red shin and wrist guards, gold headband, and— my favorite part—the gold whip that attached to my skirt.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting my skirt to make sure it was lying flat, I could hear Hotch shuffling around the room to finish getting ready himself. “How do I look?” I asked.

Hotch turned to me, and I started spinning in a slow circle so that he could get a good look at me. His arms unfolded from in front of his chest, his mouth fell agape, and his eyes brightened. “You look…” he bit his lip, “so hot.” I laughed and shook my head at him. “Fuck,” he growled under his breath, stepping closer to me. His hands grabbed my hips and yanked me towards him before he kissed me roughly. “I love you,” he mumbled against my lips.

“I love you, too,” I responded, putting my hands on his shoulders, and sliding them up slowly to hold his face. “The Superman look is good for you.” I giggled as we parted.

“Do we have to go out or can we just lock the door and use this whip?” he asked me, yanking on the gold rope rolled up on my hip.

I rolled my eyes at him and pried his hands away. “It’s part of my costume, don’t touch.”

Hotch squinted and pulled me back towards him again. “It would look so good around your wrists, though…” He leaned in to kiss me.

“Okay, Dad, I’m ready,” Jack said, running down the hall. Hotch and I turned to face the door, but his hands didn’t leave my hips quite yet. I tilted my head to the side and rested it on Hotch’s shoulder. Jack stepped into our bedroom, dressed in a small, tailored suit, sleek black dress shoes, and one of Hotch’s ties hanging loosely around his neck. Jessica came in, too, staying just a few steps behind Jack. “Do you like it?”

Hotch raised a brow. “What happened to Spider-Man, kiddo? I thought we were all supposed to be superheroes.”

“Spider-Man isn’t a superhero.”

“He’s not?”

Jack shook his head. “No.”

“Okay,” Hotch played along, “I give up. Who are you supposed to be?”

Jessica was grinning from the doorway, and a smile was creeping onto my face as I realized just how oblivious Hotch was to his son’s love. Jack loved Hotch more than anything in the world. I had been saying it since I first met them; Jack saw Hotch as a superhero akin to the likes of Batman and Superman. I mean, he literally called us superheroes, and he said that our job was saving the world, and he called his homework junior superhero work. I couldn’t believe Hotch didn’t put the pieces together as Jack stood there, and both Jessica and I were grinning ear to ear. I couldn’t even believe that Jessica helped him pull this off and they didn’t tell us.

My heart was literally melting in my chest as Jack smiled up at his dad and said, “I’m you, Daddy.”

I looked up at Hotch and saw how big his smile was now. If Jessica and I were grinning ear to ear, I didn’t know what to call Hotch’s smile. I had never seen him that happy in his life. Since Haley, I feared that Hotch sometimes wondered if Jack blamed him somehow; and I was scared that it would impact their relationship because Hotch was worried that he was failing Jack. But seeing Jack standing there, looking like a spitting image of his father, there was no doubt in my mind that Jack loved his father unconditionally and put no blame on him. I just hoped that Hotch understood it now, too, and wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Jack needed his superhero to keep saving the world and raising him the best way he knew how. Hotch had never failed Jack, not even when it came down to what happened with Haley and Foyet. Hotch could never fail Jack. There was no way Hotch’s mind or heart would ever allow that to happen. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let it happen, anyhow.

Hotch didn’t move for a second, paralyzed by the overwhelming feeling of glee. I reached down and peeled his hands from my hips and crouched down. “Come here, little man, let’s fix your tie.” Jack ran over to me and lifted his chin up towards the ceiling so that I could pop the collar of his tiny suit and fix the tie around his neck. “There you go,” I told him as I fixed the collar back down around the tie and Jack lowered his chin again. He lifted his arms into the air, a silent plea for me to pick him up. He was getting so big, I wasn’t sure how much longer Hotch and I could pick him up, but I was going to fight like hell to make that time last, and I was going to take every chance I got. I lifted him into my arms and propped him on my hip. “Do you like Dad’s costume?” I asked Jack, pointing to Hotch’s Superman shirt. Jack nodded. “Doesn’t he look like Superman?” Jack nodded again.

Hotch put his arms out this time, another silent plea to hold Jack. I handed him over and watched as Hotch adjusted Jack’s tie ever so slightly. “You look like a real FBI agent,” Hotch complimented. “How much candy do you think an agent can get tonight?”

“All of the candy!” Jack laughed.

“All of it?! Woah! That agent must be really good to get all of the candy. Do you think you’re up for it?”

“Yeah!” Jack wriggled himself out of Hotch’s hold and jumped to his feet. Jack started shuffling off to grab his Halloween candy bucket downstairs, then anxiously wait by the door until we would catch up with him. Jessica laughed and joined him.

Hotch turned back to me and grabbed my hips roughly again. “I love you.”

My heart swelled. I smiled at him as I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I think I might love him just a little more than you.”

“You always say that.”

“Yeah, but that was adorable…” I giggled and kissed his cheek. “What am I going to do with two Agent Hotchners running around?”

“It could be three,” he teased, leaning in to kiss my lips. I dodged. “Kiss me.” I smirked and dodged again. He grabbed my chin. “Don’t be a brat,” he growled before kissing me deeply. “I love you,” he breathed against my lips.

“I love you, too.” I kissed him back. When I pulled away again, I said, “And it could be more than three at some point—”

“You’re going to kill me…” he whispered with a smirk. His fingers danced over the whip on my side. “One step at a time, though. I just want to make the trio official first.”

“Dad!” Jack called from downstairs.

I giggled again and pulled myself out of Hotch’s hold. “I love you, but we should go.” I grabbed his hand, then started leading him down towards the front door so that we could take our little man trick-or-treating.

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322@rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years ago

Text

I Know

TV SHOW ACCUSED COUPLE: JAKE X READER RATING: DARK + SWEET

REQUESTED: xxtiredlikeusualxx

I stood fighting back tears, I had known Shaun since I was a little girl and standing here in his apartment was strange when he wasn’t here.

“Tally Ho!” Shaun smiled holding his stick “Hoist the mainsail Mr Murry!”

“Land ho!” Jake yelled behind him in the little box

“What did you call me jake!” I yelled back

“Uhhhhhhhh Look a beautiful mermaid!” Jake quickly corrected

“What’s what I thought” I snapped “Mermaid kisses!” I giggled spraying my water bottle on them both

“Y/N!” Shaun complained

I stopped thinking about it, the three of us grew up alot like siblings due to our mothers working together, admittedly we had grown apart a little as we got older mostly because I ended up in another school to the boys. But we still always saw each other and remained close often the three of us would go to Shaun’s or Jake’s and sit and play video games or just have movie nights with popcorn. Me and Shaun would hang out alot on our own mostly because Shaun knew about my crush on jake. I headed into his bedroom the usual place we would all hang out everything as it was last time I was here and I saw jake sat on the bed fiddling with the little Rubix cube

“Hey”

“Hey” He nods

“How are you doing?”

“Fine”

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be strange,” I said going over and sitting next to him

“Yeah, strange”

“I think we should stay together, It helps I think,” I said “And Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think you should go out with your friends for a while”

“.... what are you talking about?”

“I don’t think you should go out too much I mean we don’t know who did this to Shaun or why”

“y/n you don’t understand”

“Jake what-”

“Just leave me alone alright!”

“I- I’m sorry jake” I nodded hurrying back out into the apartment,

I sat fiddling with my pen, trying my best not to yawn. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all I had hardly seen jake he wasn’t talking to me, he wasn’t answering when I called, He never came out or came over anymore. I knew how hard losing Shaun was and the two of them were like brothers I can’t imagine how he feels. I looked at the computer watching the little video they paid on the news about what happened to Shaun, it was dirty and muggy, a terrible street camera that could see the gate and little else. It was horrible to watch him he ran and tried to talk to someone but fell he to the ground. I couldn’t stop watching it even if I hated it, I looked at it looking at the street and the gate and I remembered, we have a camera? In fact, it looks at that alley, but from the other angle. I went onto our camera and tried to get the view for that day, I found the video luckily it was there going to be auto-deleted tomorrow. I put it on fast forward going through the day from midnight watching it go on Until I saw Shaun he was running from something, more importantly, someone. It was grainy and half-broken but I saw that face I knew…. Jake. He was following him. What was he doing there? They stood talking in the alley, what were they talking about? I almost jumped out of my seat as I saw what happened, he took a gun from his hoodie pocket and shot him. Pulling up his hood and disappearing as Shaun desperately called his mother.

“You alright y/n?” My boss asked as she came around

“Uhh yeah, Yeah sorry” I said wiping my eyes shutting the window

“It’s about what happened isn’t it?”

“Yeah”

“I think you should go, take the rest of the day off don’t worry yourself about it. Get your stuff and get home” she says so I nodded and started gathering my things, I noticed it was due to be deleted by the end of business so I grabbed my old school flash drive I had bouncing around in the bottom of my bag uploading a copy and heading home.

I sat on my bed unable to escape the images in my head, the boy’s I had plaid pirates with, the boys I cuddled with between blankets for movies, the boys I had gone on a thousand swimming days, and arcade days, and park afternoons, The boy’s I had seen as my best friends, my brothers, my sweet boys. Killing each other. Over what? I’d never seen the two of them fight over anything, the most I had seen them argue about was over pizza or x-box controllers or over the odd opinion about things, But… the most I ever had to do was get between the odd tussle, or offer a solution that know one won.

‘Ohh come on jake season two’s shit!”

“I like it!”

“We’re not watching it man, Come on we’re watching the new supers”

“No! Come on it’s the same old bullshit, Shaun!”

“Boys!” I yelled stopping the argument “we are watching Disney and both of you are gonna shut the hell up and your gonna cry with me else I am shoving this remote up both of your asses”

“Fine, just don’t put the princess one on I had that damn song in my head for a week” Shaun complained

“And please do video me crying again!” Jake complained

I got my jacket and headed out the house going down the street hurrying along to the little house I knew so well, knocking on the door and his mother answered

“Ohh hiya love, I think he-”

“I need to see him.” I snapped “Please, It’s important”

“Alright” she nodded letting me in “I uhh I’m heading out okay?”

“Okay” I nodded watching her walk out and lock the door, so I headed upstairs and spotted his bedroom door open and him sat on his bed clearly ready for bed

“What are you doing here!” He yelped jumping off his bed

“I had to see you” “Y/n will you just fucking leave me alone”

“Jake! Listen to me to little shit!”

“Whatever is it. I don’t wanna know” He says I sighed shutting the door and dropping my bag

“I know jake”

“Know what?” He snapped

“.... I know what you did” I said and the colour drained from his face as I showed him the flash drive from my pocket

“...What is that?”

“Ohh now you wanna know?”

“Y/n. What is it?”

“A flash drive. You can have it. When you answer me” “Answer what?”

“Why did you shot Shaun?”

“... Who told you?”

“Knowone told me”

“Then how do you know?”

“Camera’s work has a camera that looks into that alley. It’s in our back window guess we had a better view than the street camera”

“So You’re work knows?” “No, Just me.” I explain “I check the camera know one else. I didn’t check because I’ve been a bit everywhere, the footage gets deleted after so long, it was the last day. At five it gets erased without a trace. This… is the only copy that will remain”

“Give it”

“What?” “Give it!” He yelled trying to lunge for me but I thought with him the whole time before I pushed him to the floor and ran across the other side of his room shoving the flash drive down my bra “Y/n… you have to give it to me”

“No. You have to listen to me. And you have to be honest with me. Or else” “Or else what?”

“Or else I take this to the police station.” “... What do you wanna know?” he sighed sitting on his bed

“Just tell me, why did you do it? He was your best friend? You were like brothers?” I asked going closer to him

“You think I don’t know what I’ve done” He said tears trickling down his face I sat beside him and held him close

“Who knows?”

“Cormack. Me. You”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it”

“Why did you do it”

“.... he made me” “Shaun?”

“Cormack”

“What did he say?”

“He said I had to. Because of mum and sue, because of what they did he said I had to, or else”

“Or else what?”

“Or else”

“Or what jake? Do they shoot you? They shoot your mum?”

“They gave me a choice,” he said “Do as I was told and shoot Shaun. Or they’d make me”

“How would they make you?”

“... they’d take you”

“W-what?”

“He said he knew where you worked, what days you worked, where you lived.”

“So what?” “He said, I could do as I was told, Or He’d take you and… make me, they’d hurt you or worse”

“What’s worse?” “Y/n-”

“What’s worse jake?”

“He didn’t say, But.. I know what he meant” “What did he mean?”

“The last time something like this happened. One of the boys had to shoot a guy from one of the other gangs and he wouldn’t do it.”

“So what did they do?”

“They took his sister, cut her hair, beat her up, and… made him watch while they”

“They what?”

“Did. things to her.”

“Why would they take me?”

“Becuase he knows, how I feel about you.”

“What did he say? Exactly?”

“He said, Jake, you take this and you make sure that Shaun doesn’t get far, I told him no I wouldn’t do it, he said you’ll do it, or I’ll go pick up that pretty girl of yours and… and I’ll make you watch while I take her flower, and I’ll make you put a bullet through her head.” He explained “I didn’t want them to hurt you. He was waiting outside your office while I did it. To make sure I did it. I tried to talk to him I did I tried to reason with him, and… Shaun, he told me to do it” “What? Why would he tell you to?”

“I told him the truth that if I didn’t they were gonna hurt you. So he told me to. You’re like his little sister y/n, neither of us wanted anything bad to happen to you, why do you think we stop seeing you so much both of us, we wanted to keep you out of it all, we both knew they’d use you against us and you’d end up getting hurt” he explained “It’s why after… I left you alone, I didn’t want you getting involved” he says “so… now you know”

“Now I know”

“So, I guess you’re taking that to the police.”

“No. I’m not”

“Why not?”

“I lost Shaun. I’m not losing you too jake” I told him getting the flash drive holding his hand to keep it between us “Our secret. We take it to the grave.

“To the grave”

“And you’re getting out of there”

“Y/n-”

“Please jake, for me”

“... for you, I’d do anything”

“You swear?” “I swear”

“On your life?” He nods

“I solemnly swear, Not a word of this will pass my lips, this drive stays between us, our secret, till death”

“I solemnly swear, not a word of this will pass my lips, it stays between us, our secret, till death”

“You swear?”

“I swear. On my life, my soul, everything I have in this world.”

“Prove it?”

He smiled briefly leaning forward and giving my lips a little kiss I blushed hard and kissed back gently “I swear, on us, On the way, I feel about you, on my heart and soul, so long as we both shall live I swear it”

“Then I swear, On us” I smiled giving him a gentle kiss too “I didn’t know”

“Neither did I” he blushed “I thought you… didn’t like me like that”

“I thought you saw me… like a little sister”

“No, like a little girl I had a crush on. Since she was the little girl giving me mermaid kisses in our pirate ship box”

“Since our cuddles up to the lord of the rings and Disney movies” I smiled

“Y/n. Can you stay with me, Tonight?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want me too jake”

I got home a little worried, I wanted to leave them be god knows what they needed to talk about, I hope he hasn’t got her in trouble or anything, I went up quietly noticing the light in his room still on but the bed had the two of them laid together locked in a sweet lazy embrace, noses touching smiling widely as they laid deep in sleep, I smiled and shut off the light leaving only the little lamp on his side table on with the shadows of stars and moons that they had drawn on the shade years ago reflecting on the walls and ceiling, I shut the door quietly and left them to it.

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pitaparka · 5 years ago

Note

“I desperately need a haircut. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” w billy

summary: billy’s hair gets a little too long for his liking. you decide to take it into your own hands. literally.

pairing: billy russo x reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: that billy gif does somethin’ to me man...

Billy had been wearing a hat every day for a week. In the house. Not going anywhere.

It was driving you insane.

"Take that stupid thing off, Billy," you’d say to him. His hair had been abnormally soft since he hadn’t been gelling it for work lately, not that you could see it. It was a stupid thing to get mad about, but tensions had been running high in your apartment. After Billy moved in, it had been much easier to spend time with him, and you were grateful for that. But during this quarantine, you both had been a little on edge.

“It looks like shit. I need a haircut,” he’d say, running his fingers through it in front of the mirror in the morning. He still woke up at an ungodly hour for some reason. It’s not like he had to. All of his meetings happened after nine o’clock in the morning, but the smell of a fresh pot of coffee brewing wasn’t the worst thing in the world to wake up to. Either way, the hair thing was stressing him out.

“It’s embarrassing,” he said, grumbling in bed after a long day of zoom calls and meetings on the phone. It was incredibly inconvenient to be running a company during this time. Especially because the people he was in charge of did most of their work in person, manually laboring away on a typical schedule. Billy had been trying to work that out over the phone, face to face with his higher-ups who were also confined to their houses.

“Just cut it yourself, Billy,” you say, sitting at your desk, typing away at an assignment that was due later on in the week. You sigh and sit back in your chair, leaning back to recline your feet on your desk and put your hands behind your head.

“I don’t know how. I’ve never had to before. I’d fuck it up,” he says, running his hands over his face and letting out a loud yawn.

“There are videos online?” you suggest. Billy’s ears perk up.

“I think I have clippers somewhere…” he muses. He sighs.

“I desperately need a haircut,” he says, pulling a lock of hair down over his face. He goes almost cross-eyed to look at it, and it comes down to about the tip of his nose.

“I know, Billy. You complaining about it isn’t going to make your hair shorter,” you clarify, and he huffs in frustration.

“Have you ever cut hair?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to take a good look at you. It was easy to see you in the soft light of the lamp on your desk. You let out a little laugh.

“No… Actually, yes, once. I think I was like five? My mom was not happy. I gave myself bangs.” You laugh at the story, but that’s only what you had been told. It’s not like you knew the first thing about cutting hair.

“Come on, I’m serious. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” he asks, and you check your clock.

“Right now?” you ask, and you rub your arms softly.

“I have stuff that’s due,” you say to him. He just looks at you in response.

“You could do it tomorrow if you want,” he finally says, and you close your laptop.

“No, let’s just… let's get it done tonight. I don’t want you complaining if I give you a bad haircut though,” you say, planting your feet on the ground.

“I don’t want a whole cut, just a trim. Let me go find the clippers,” he says, getting out of bed. You resist the urge to slap his ass as he walks past you.

“You don’t get to be picky, Russo,” you mutter after he leaves the door slightly ajar behind him. You take the opportunity to look up some articles and videos about cutting hair.

Billy’s setup includes one chair he got from the dining room, an old towel from the closet, and his face trimmer from under the bathroom sink.

“Okay, do you know how he cuts it? Does he just hold it like this or does he like… run a comb through it?” you stand behind him like his barber would to demonstrate, holding sections of his hair.

“I don’t know, he just, cuts it…” Billy says, adjusting the towel around his shoulder.

“Wow Billy, that’s… such a wealth of information you just gave me.”

“I don’t have eyes on the back of my head! How am I supposed to know—”

“Okay, so you’re gonna get what you’re gonna get and you’re gonna be happy, okay?” you say, and you hear him chuckle and mutter, “Oh god…”

“I can’t blend the hairline with the clippers we have,” you say after he explains the settings. You clip his hair back to see the lines the barber left behind from his last cut. It hasn’t been so long that they’ve faded too much.

“That’s okay. We can do just, high and tight on the sides. No fades.”

“You can’t move.” You clarify, and he plays with the trimmer before handing it to you.

“I know. Thank you for doing this for me by the way,” he says. He can’t see himself in the mirror, so he just has to trust you.

“Mhmm,” you agree absentmindedly as you focus, bringing the trimmer to the back of his head. You go over one spot repeatedly, but the hair doesn’t look like it’s getting any shorter.

“What do you see back there?” Billy asks, obviously scared you’re going to make him bald.

“It’s like, barely even cutting anything,” you say. You pull the clippers away from his head. He shifts in his seat.

“Uh oh. Let me feel it?” He asks and touches the hair there.

“Nope,” he agrees and gets up from his chair. He looks at the attachments and fiddles with the trimmer for a bit before he figures out the attachments were wrong, and the one you were supposed to be using was on the counter, not on the buzzer.

You turn it on and put it back to his head, and it seems to work better.

“Is that any better?” Billy asks, almost reading your mind.

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond, taking slow, precise movements through his hair. You can feel the hair gather in little piles around your feet. You find yourself in a groove and it becomes a lot less scary when you’re not worried about having him end up with some god awful buzz cut. You hold his head steady, one hand cupping the side of his face.

“It looks, chunky,” you complain, and you can feel his face scrunch up a little bit.

“I don’t know if that’s what I want to hear,” he says, tilting his head back more when you press your fingers into his jaw and guide him slowly.

But after a little while, it all starts to come together and looks much more even. You turn off the trimmer and admire your work, which is pretty darn good if you do say so yourself.

Getting up from the chair, Billy admires himself closely in the mirror. He runs his fingers over the newly buzzed sides of his head.

“I mean, up close you can tell it’s not faded, but it looks like I got a fresh cut,” he says, sitting back down. You can’t help but feel a little pride over it.

“I can clean up the sides without the guard on, like the ears and stuff,” you say.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, taking off the blade guard from the clippers.

He puts the trimmer back at your hand and now the metal gleams intimidatingly at you. It’s oddly intimate for the two of you. Something about having the blade so dangerously close to his skin was personal. Just the persistent buzz of the clippers and the stories coming from Billy about bad barbers. You can feel the goosebumps on his skin as you clean up the hair on the back of his neck. Then came the lines around his ears on both sides.

As you finished up, you offered him a mirror to see the back of it.

“If you want, I can round the edges a little more,” you offer.

“No, this is perfect. It looks great back there,” he says, moving the mirror from side to side, examining the back of his head.

“Okay, I think we’re done!” he says, and you correct him.

“With the clippers.”

“Yes, with the clippers.” he agrees.

You wet his hair with a spray bottle newly filled with water you had retrieved from the closet, and with the smallest scissors you could find you take off little sections of hair from the top of his head. The reaction from Billy is physical, his shoulders standing a little taller, a little more confident in his new look. Some pieces of hair still cling to his t-shirt and shoulders, making him scratch at his neck.

“Hop in the shower quick and then I’ll blow dry it before you get into bed,” you tell him, and he listens, but not before he rudely kisses you, hands cupping the side of your face.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, before stripping off his clothes before he even turned the shower on. You leave the bathroom, face hot as you hear him turn it on. Maybe another day, you’d join him.

He comes out smelling good and looking fresh.

He pokes his head into the bedroom, his hair dripping wet onto the floor, with the need to tell you that he was done, not that you couldn’t hear the shower turn off all by yourself.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he says smiling, and there’s something childishly innocent about him getting excited about you blow-drying his hair.

The loud blow dryer made for little conversation to be had, but you were both fine with that. The heat on Billy’s skin made him tired, especially after the hot shower he had just taken. When his hair was sufficiently dry and you put away all of the tools from the night’s impromptu hair cutting session, Billy came up from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his head on your shoulder. You watched him in the mirror.

“Thank you for this. It feels so much better,” he says, planting a kiss to your shoulder. The one he plants gently on your neck makes you smile. You wrap your arms around him, holding them there, around your body.

“I didn’t mind,” you clarify, “I like how it came out.”

“Now I don’t feel like I have to wear that fuckin’ hat everywhere,” he says, and pulls away, making his way down the hall to the bedroom.

“Oh thank god,” you whisper under your breath, and follow him.

In bed, you stroke Billy’s newly cut hair. Under your fingers, he pulls you just a little bit closer to him, chest to chest under the warmth of your blankets. The darkness of the night filled the room, the only light streaming in from your window was that of the moon and the stars. You smile, but Billy is already fast asleep.

It really had gotten softer.

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rinneganwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Never Far Away; Chapter 4: She's a Little Runaway

Word Count: 3,026

Summary: Team Yumiko makes their way into a nearby village to gather intel, running into Tsunade and Shizune inside. Tsunade gets under Yumiko's skin more than Yumiko cares to admit.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Akina and Ezume are excited to see a village in the distance. For the first time since leaving Konoha, they break the formation Yumiko had put them in for the trip. Akina turns around to face Yumiko with an excited look glowing in her bright green eyes.

“Can we stop in the village, Yumiko-sensei?” she asks.

“We should stop and ask some questions at least,” Yumiko sighs. “But that’s it, guys. No lollygagging!”

“Come on, couldn’t we just rest for one night?” Ezume groans. “We’ve been on the road for days.”

Kakashi raises an eyebrow as he tilts his head slightly to look at Yumiko. She catches his eye, but looks away quickly.

“It’ll depend on if we find anything.”

Satisfied with her answer, Ezume and Akina return to formation. Yumiko has to admit that sleeping in a bedroll on the ground isn’t great, but she’s certainly had to deal with worse. A night at a nice inn would do wonders for everyone’s morale.

“Would Tamako stop in a village?” Kakashi asks her quietly.

Yumiko chews on her lower lip as she mulls over the answer. Tamako has always been a bit high maintenance. She’d certainly want to at least get a bath and a fresh change of clothes.

Then again, even as a young girl she was extremely cautious. She would have thought over the entire scenario including the possibility of being caught up to. Tamako knew as soon as she left Yumiko would come looking for her, and she’d plan accordingly. Yumiko could only assume every detail of her running away was meticulously planned. Her chances of finding Tamako hangs in the balance by a single thread.

“If she did, she wouldn’t stay long. I don’t think we could afford to stop for the night,” Yumiko says quietly.

“Your chunins won’t like the sound of that,” Kakashi points out.

“It’ll keep them motivated.”

Kakashi hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything else. As they fall back into silence, Yumiko wonders what Tamako is doing now. Has she really been such a terrible sister? A caretaker? A sensei?

She feels her hands begin sweating as she remembers all the times Tamako mentioned Itachi, and all the times she dismissed the topic outright. She didn’t listen when she should have. She was tough when Tamako needed her to be soft. Iruka reminded her so many times to soften her approach at times, but Yumiko shrugged it off. Tamako was strong, skilled, talented. She could handle anything Yumiko threw at her. At times Yumiko forgot to just be a sister.

This is my fault.

The entrance to the village comes into sight. Akina and Ezume both pick up the pace. A familiar smell fills Yumiko’s nostrils. Perfume. She falls behind as she tries to decipher which direction it’s coming from. Kakashi stops and turns to her with a questioning look.

“What is it?” he asks when Yumiko doesn’t immediately offer the information.

“She’s here.”

Yumiko always struggles with buying gifts. She goes into shop after shop looking for something that just screams “TAMAKO” at her. It’s not easy when considering how different the girls are. Yumiko would just as soon be happy with a bowl of ramen or a new kunai as a birthday present.

Tamako would appreciate anything Yumiko gives her, but Yumiko wants to actually get something good. Something Tamako would really love. Without any real ideas, she wanders into the fragrance shop. The floral scents assault her nose as she walks in. The shopkeeper notices her nose curling, and Yumiko blushes.

She wanders through the shop, looking at all the ornate bottles lining the shelves. Then, she sees one which seems so familiar. It’s a crystal bottle with a lotus carved on the stop. She carefully takes the bottle off the shelf and tests the scent. It’s so sweet and familiar she feels tears welling up in her eyes.

‘It smells just like Mother,’ she thinks sadly.

She turns the bottle around in her hands. Takani’s smiling face flashes in her mind, and she can almost hear her voice echoing in her head. She doesn’t think about the cost as she goes to purchase the bottle.

That night, after having Tamako’s favorite meal for her birthday she gives her the gift. Tamako is confused for a moment. Yumiko’s never been so excited about giving her a gift before. Usually these moments start out with an apology for not knowing exactly what to get. Instead Yumiko is giddy as she watches Tamako unwrap the delicate lavender box.

She lifts the bottle out of the box and inspects it. Then sprays the perfume on her wrist to smell it. As soon as the sweet scent takes to her senses, she looks up at Yumiko with wide eyes.

“It’s just like Mother,” she whispers.

“It’s the same one she used to wear,” Yumiko smiles.

Tamako stands up to cross the room. Her arms wrap tightly around her sister.

“This is the best gift you could have given me.”

“We should split up,” Kakashi’s voice pulls Yumiko out of the memory.

Akina and Ezume bounce on their toes, eager for their orders. They turn to Yumiko despite Kakashi being the one to make the suggestion. He sighs in frustration.

“Well, split up,” Yumiko shrugs. “You guys go check the shops. I’ll take the inn.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Kakashi suggests. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Yumiko narrows her eyes.

“In case she’s there and you need back up. The inn is the most likely place for her to be.”

Yumiko sighs, “Alright. Let’s go.”

Ezume and Akina take off running towards the town center. One of them taking the shops on the right, the other taking the shops on the left. Kakashi and Yumiko start towards the inn. The smell of Tamako’s perfume grows stronger the closer they get. She feels her heart pound as she wonders what might happen.

Kakashi enters the inn first, he scans the lobby carefully. Yumiko is led towards the attached casino. He follows closely behind her. There’s a bit of chaos at one of the tables at the far corner of the casino. Kakashi makes his way over there with Yumiko following close behind.

“What’s going on over here?” he asks carefully. A woman throws her cards down before standing up. Kakashi and Yumiko both immediately recognize her as Tsunade. “You ruined my bluff!” Tsunade scorns them. Her eyes fall on Yumiko, “Well, well, well. If you don’t ever look just like your father.”

“Sorry for the interruption,” Yumiko feels her cheeks flush. “We thought we saw something.”

“Yumiko Shōrihibana and Kakashi Hatake together at an inn,” Tsunade smirks. “Never thought I would see the day. I guess you did finally find a way to get along.”

Yumiko’s cheeks grow red hot as she looks to the ground, “Lady Tsunade we’re actually-”

“We need to ask if you’ve seen someone,” Kakashi interrupts. Yumiko elbows him in the side. Tsunade smirks.

“I see people everywhere I look, it’s a busy place.”

Tsunade begins stumbling towards the bar. Kakashi and Yumiko follow behind her. Shizune follows behind them.

“A drink for my friends,” Tsunade indicates to the two of them. “Are you as fun as your mother, Yumiko?”

“Um, maybe,” Yumiko tilts her head to the side.

“Nah, you’ve always been a serious girl. You should loosen up a bit. Kakashi, help her loosen up.”

“Lady Tsunade,” Shizune gasps.

Yumiko feels like she could die of embarrassment. Kakashi, on the outside at least, is completely unphased.

“We’re looking for Tamako Shōrihibana,” Kakashi explains. “Has she come through here?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen her since she was just a little spark.”

Kakashi and Yumiko exchange suspicious looks.

“Are you sure, Lady Tsunade? It’s really important we find her,” Yumiko pleads. “She could be in more danger than even she realizes.”

Tsunade looks away, but then looks Yumiko right in the eyes to repeat her answer. Yumiko feels sparks shooting between her fingers. She turns on her heels to leave the inn without looking back. She was lying, Yumiko can feel it deep inside. Tamako was here.

“If she was here we’ve probably just missed her,” Kakashi says as he steps out of the inn beside Yumiko.

“The time we spent talking to Tsunade was just enough time for her to get out of the village,” Yumiko agrees. “Tsunade knew that.”

“She thinks she’s helping Tamako,” Kakashi says.

“She could just easily be sending her to an early grave.”

Kakashi reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder, but his hand gets shot away by a static shock. He shakes his hand to relieve the tingling sensation in his fingers. He realizes Yumiko didn’t even know it had happened. She begins walking down the street to gather Akina and Ezume. Kakashi follows behind her, his mind reeling with questions about the shock he’d gotten. For just a moment she’d had his fingers paralyzed without even trying. He wonders how long she could paralyze someone if she was actually trying to do so. When they were kids sparring, she was still learning how to control it. She’d make a formidable opponent now.

“Maybe we should stay at the inn for the night after all,” Kakashi suggests once he’s caught up with her.

“We can’t afford to lose more time,” Yumiko growls.

“Listen, it’s gonna be dark soon. She’s not gonna get far.”

“Kakashi, this is so important to me-”

“You’re no good to anyone exhausted and unstable,” he says.

Yumiko turns to him, yellow sparks flickering in her eyes, “What did you just say?”

Kakashi crosses his arms over his chest, “You heard me. You’re exhausted, you’re emotional. You need time to regroup.”

Her purple hair begins standing on end from the static growing around her. Kakashi steps back.

“I don’t need to regroup. I need to keep moving,” Yumiko steps closer to him. “You can either come or you can stay.”

“We’re all staying. This is a team,” he says calmly.

He was right. She knows it deep down, and that’s what makes it so much worse. There was not a single argument she could make to justify dragging everyone back onto the road at dark.

“Um, Yumiko-sensei, Kakashi-sensei,” Akina’s soft voice interrupts. “We talked to all the shopkeepers.”

Yumiko takes a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. She turns to Akina, and she can hear Iruka’s voice in her head reminding her to keep her emotions in check.

“What did you find out?” she asks Akina.

“Well, not much,” Akina looks down apologetically. Ezume strolls up with an armful of snacks.

“Someone says they saw her with Tsunade, but it was before we arrived,” Ezume adds.

“Alright,” Yumiko glances at Kakashi who is still watching her cautiously. “We will be getting a room at the inn for the night.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Akina claps.

“Thank Kakashi,” Yumiko sighs.

A few hours later, Akina talks Yumiko into getting into the onsen with her. As she sinks into the hot water, she realizes it’s probably the best decision she’s made all day. Her sore muscles feel so relieved, and some of the tension she’s been carrying starts to dissolve away.

Akina stays close to Yumiko as they wade around in the hot water. She’s still a bit shy about being nude in front of other people. Yumiko finds a spot relatively away from the other women, and they stay there for a while in silence. Akina gets a wicked smirk on her face.

“Yumiko-sensei, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” Yumiko sinks deeper into the water until it’s over her shoulders.

“Why did the hokage send Kakashi-sensei on this mission?”

“Kakashi is a great shinobi,” Yumiko sighs. “He’s got the right experience. I suppose the hokage thought it was a good match.”

“He’s kind of cute,” Akina says shyly.

“How do you even know?” Yumiko laughs. “He could literally look like anything under his mask.”

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling.” Akina looks at Yumiko with a curious look in her eyes. She tilts her head to the side, “Do you like him?”

“He’s a loyal comrade and strong shinobi,” Yumiko narrows her eyes at Akina.

Akina rolls her eyes, “You’re no fun.”

Yumiko laughs, “Oh, I’m so sorry I’m not entertaining your inappropriate questions.”

“It’s just the two of us,” Akina smirks. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.”

Yumiko shakes her head, “I haven’t been keeping anything from you.”

“I still think he’s cute,” Akina shrugs. “There’s just something about him.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“I bet you don’t like him because you’re in love with Iruka-sensei,” Akina wiggles her brows.

Yumiko laughs. She laughs so hard it almost hurts, “Oh really?”

“Mhm,” Akina smiles broadly.

“Me and Iruka are just friends,” Yumiko shakes her head. “We’ve been friends almost as long as you’ve been alive.”

“Then why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Because I’m too busy training nosy students,” Yumiko winks at her.

“I always knew you’d end up becoming a jounin,” Tsunade’s voice interrupts their playful banter. Akina stares in wonder at the beautiful woman sinking into the water. Tsunade is on full display, and there’s nothing at all for her to be ashamed of.

“Lady Tsunade,” Yumiko greets her coldly.

“The Tsunade?” Akina asks in awe. “One of the great sannin?”

“The best one if you ask me,” Tsunade smirks.

“I’m gonna get out now,” Yumiko says to Akina. “Don’t be too long, we’re gonna get dinner soon.”

“You’re much more like your father,” Tsunade says.

Before stepping out of the water, Yumiko turns her head slightly to look over her shoulder, “If you liked my parents so much, you wouldn’t have lied to me.”

Yumiko wraps herself in a towel before going to their room. She finds Kakashi and Ezume already sitting in the shared dining area between the two rooms they’d rented. Kakashi is lounging on a cushion while reading. Ezume had been eating some of the snacks he bought. Upon seeing his sensei in nothing but a towel, Ezume’s face turns bright red. He trains his eyes to the ground to avoid looking at her anymore.

“As soon as I get dressed we should get dinner,” she calls as she goes to the room she’s sharing with Akina.

She slides the door closed and pulls on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a black tank top. Akina walks in a few moments later with a bright red face.

“I can’t believe they saw me in a towel,” she whines.

“It’s better than them seeing you naked,” Yumiko shrugs.

She waits for Akina to get dressed before she opens the door. Kakashi is ordering food for everyone already when she takes a seat on one of the cushions beside Ezume. He offers her some chips which she takes gratefully. Akina sits down across from her. Everyone is busy with their own activities as they wait for the food. Akina is reading some tourism pamphlets she’s picked up in the lobby. Ezume is still busy with his snacks. Kakashi continues to read. Yumiko looks over a map of the area to try to plan tomorrow’s moves.

“Once we cross the border, we could run into trouble,” she says out loud.

“What kind of trouble?” Ezume asks.

“Rogue shinobi,” Kakashi says without looking up from his book.

Before they can talk more about it, the food is brought in. The group steps back so that everything could be set out for them. Ezume watches excitedly as the spread is laid out before them. They all thank the staff, and then sit back down to get started.

Everyone begins preparing to eat, and then Ezume nudges Akina under the table. Immediately they both begin staring intently at Kakashi. He doesn’t seem to notice as he begins looking over the options before him.

“It’s not polite to stare,” Yumiko scolds them. “Thank Kakashi for ordering dinner, and leave him be.”

“Yes, sensei,” Ezume says sadly.

Akina sighs, “Thank you, Kakashi-sensei.”

After dinner, Ezume and Ezume turn in for the night. Everyone is feeling a bit weary from walking for so long. Yumiko goes outside to sit on the grass for a while. She stares up at the night sky above her. The silver stars twinkle, the full moon is bright against the dark sky. Her mind wanders once again to Tamako.

Are you staring at the sky too? Can you feel me?

Kakashi announces his presence by clearing his throat. He sits down beside her, feeling kind of surprised when she doesn’t retreat.

“We should talk a bit about Tamako,” he says quietly. “I need to understand where her head might be.”

“I know,” she sighs.

“Her and Itachi-”

“They were close. Closer than any two people I’ve ever seen. And so young.”

“Close enough for her to be dangerous?”

“Possibly,” Yumiko admits. “Maybe not even on purpose.”

“Your kekkei genkai activates based on emotions,” he adds. “I figured that out earlier when you shocked me.”

“I shocked you,” she laughs.

He chuckles, “Yeah. After our little argument.”

“I’m so sorry,” she cups her face in her hands.

“It’s fine, but we have to consider how this could work against us with Tamako if she gets too worked up. I’m assuming her control isn’t as good as yours.”

“She’s not as contained,” Yumiko agrees.

They’d worked on it, still were trying to work on it before Tamako ran away. Yumiko was lucky enough that when the kekkei genkai activated in her, their father was still alive to teach her how to use it. Yumiko tried to pass along his lessons. Tamako was more emotionally driven than Yumiko, and because she was so much younger it was harder for her to control.

“I’m sorry we’re having to look for your sister,” what she can see of his face softens. “I know she’s all you have left.”

She looks down at her hands folded in her lap, “I hate this.”

“I don’t blame you,” Kakashi sighs. “We just need to say focused.”

#kakashi hatake #itachi uchiha #tsunade #kakashi x oc #chapter 4 #itachi x oc

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bakusoftie · 5 years ago

Note

How about Deku, Katsuki and Todoroki being turned into a cat ( or whatever pet you want ) for a week and their fem s/o taking care of them (like petting,feeding,and playing with them) until they turn back ?

this is so cute omfg

y’all

i fucking love cats

Izuwu, Bakubabe, and Icycutie turning into cats for a week

🥦 izuwu 🥦

apparently some general studies student hated class 1-A so bad that they used their quirk to turn the innocent lil deku into a tiny white munchkin cat with his emerald green eyes and three black spots of fur on his cheeks

he looked so ADORABLE AHHHH

you were walking towards the dorms when you hear the cries of a kitten and looked down at your feet to find the cutest cat you have ever laid eyes on

“Hey there lil buddy!,” you cooed as you picked the ball of fluff up and rested him on your chest.

you thought he reminded you of your crush from the color of his wide green eyes

you couldn’t stop yourself from pecking kisses all over his fluffy face

izuku was sent into a flurry of purrs as he nuzzled his head into your warm chest

he felt kind of bad since you had no idea it was him but he felt so safe and complete being snuggled in your arms and he never wanted to leave

you snook the cute ass fur ball in your room, not before raiding the kitchen for a bowl of milk and leftover pork cutlet bowl that belonged to Denki (it’s okay you left him some money for McNuggets)

you laid the stubborn kitten on your bed but he kept wanting to bury his head in your warmth

“Awww, I’m gonna name you...Deku!,”

the kitten raised his head when he heard that and started licking your hand as if he was giving you little kitty kisses

“You must like that name,huh? It’s because you remind me of him...because you both are so cute!!”

Izuku crawls into your lap and nuzzles his head against your thighs and thinks ‘damn this is the life’

he would never get to do this when he returns to his human form so he for sure will milk the fuck out of this

when your hand comes down to scratch his neck, he swears he has reached heaven as his purring increases and he lets out a little “prrt”

He’s fucking love it

Until he sees you getting undressed...

Then he bulldozes his face into your pillow and let’s out a series of ‘meows’ that kinda sound like his muttering

If you stroke his fur while he eats, he feels like he’s going to combust from joy please don’t stop

6 days later when you’re so used to having this little kitten follow you everywhere and giving you cuddles, you also start to wonder why izuku hasn’t been coming to class lately

until one night when you and Izukitty are cuddling, him being curled into a ball on your boobies

And you feel the fuzzy warmth on your chest start to get heavier

two questions

where did your cat go?

WHY IS IZUKU NAKED AND STRADDLING YOUR WAIST

Izuwu is so flustered and he can’t hardly get a word out except...

“M-Meow?”

💥kitsuki bakukitty💥

ma there's a weird-looking fucking cat outside

seriously...bakugou as a cat is fucking frightening

do not give this fucker CLAWS

well somebody did

and bakugou was fucking pissed

he couldn’t do anything for himself and his quirk wouldn’t even fucking work

not to mention he keeps hacking up disgusting fucking hairballs

it was your turn to take the dorm’s trash out when you see a

sort of cute-looking?

ash-blonde cat with sharp red eyes staring into your soul.

THIS FUCKER POUNCED ON YOUR LEG

CLAWS DIGGING INTO YOUR FLESH

he is literally ‘my cat from hell’

But you thought his aggressive actions just meant he was an abused stray that needed to be nutured

uh bitch

you was w r o n g

you also thought his fur and eyes kinda looked like your crush, Katsuki

so of course,

you named the kitty

katsukitty

he did not wike it

you got so many cat scratches BITCH YOU STARTING TO LOOK LIKE VICTOR ZSASZ

you googled “how to tame an agressive cat” on wikihow and it said to spend time with the cat and play with him so

you took that bitch to your room

and got out a ball of yarn and a laser pointer

“let the chaos begin, katsukitty 😈”

let me just tell you that this bitch’s meows sound like he’s being fucking drowned like

he’s so ugly LMAOASKKS

but the angry little kitten gets used to you and rubs his head your hand as he gets ready to ATTack and nibble the fuck out of your finger

you text kiri to come over and meet your new little friend and

the moment he smells the stench of another male coming up into his territory (aka you)

he fucking asshole

bites a fucking chunk out of kiri’s lightening mcqueen crocs

kiri: gEt yOur fUckinG cAt, BiTch

you: he don’t bite 🙂

kiri: yES hE dO

im so sorry kiri but

those crocs were ugly anyway

katsukitty did you a favor

bakugou is such an asshole cat like he literally jumped up on your dresser for the sole purpose of knocking your limited edition Best Jeanist Funko POP to the floor

yOu shiTTy BitcH

you had to get a spray bottle full of water after he scratched up the All Might t-shirt that Izuku bought you for your birthday

jealous heaDASS

he won’t let anyone inside your room

I mean you saw what he did to kiri’s crocs

So when mineta thought he would be slick and sniff your panties while you were in the shower

Katsukitty didn’t even have to touch the fucker

he just growled and mineta shit his pants

he protecc

he attacc

but most importantly

he a snacc

speaking of snacks,,,

if you try to feed him that gross ass canned cat food

he will fuck your ass up

don’t even think about it

although...he was considering it 😳

but no

once you accidentally dropped some sriracha on the floor and his ass lapped that shit up

you swore to god that isn’t healthy for cats to eat but

you still gave him a whole bowl full

because he made him happy

and you could finally pet him while he ate without getting slice and diced

that’s how most your days were like until the end of the week when you were coming to your room after making Katsukitty a tiny version of Bakugou’s costume

but what you were met with was a naked Bakugou (with only a ball of yard to cover his privates) on your bed

“I’m going to get you back for calling me fucking ‘Katsukitty’ for a week,dumbass”

💙 IcyCutie ❤️

oh this defenseless baby

he has no clue how this happened to him but the moment he sees you, he has the urge to rub his head against your leg?

and he does

you look down when you feel something soft and furry brushing against your ankle

it’s this cute ass slender white cat with an orange spot that covers his left eye and head. His eyes are two different colors and you think he is the cutest thing to ever grace this earth

He’s literally many the ‘🥺’ face and

Your uwus have been

s n a t c h e d

Todorokitty wishes he could communicate with you somehow and tell you that it’s him but then you’re putting him up and holding him tightly against your breasts and

😳 big boobs? small boobs? no boobs? he do not care

his brain just goes: tiddy

honestly you could do whatever you want with him and he wouldn’t care

he’s kinda one of those cats that just want to sleep

he’s such an lazy cat like

just hold him and lay with him please

even as a cat, he is just so touchstarved

the only moment he shows any feral activity is when you brought some Zaria soba for yourself and nasty ass fish for him

this bitch yeeted the fish off the plate and when you’ve gone to go clean it up

THIS BITCH PUTS HIS FURRY ASS HEAD INSIDE THE BOWL

bitch almost drowned in that shit

feed him

peasant

he definitely gets used to you taking care of him and being treated like he’s special and loved because he never got that before so there’s times where he just stares at your with wide eyes and paws at your tummy

he gets the best sleep of his life being cushioned by your body

you are his bed now

sometimes he’ll leave the room and come back to leave you “gifts”

oh god

is that a fucking hamster?

😳 oh no

that’s koda’s hamster

“I understand that you were trying to do a good thing but you have committed an atrocity”

just wait until you get this hoe on some catnip 😈

normally he’s such a calm and collected kitty but once you sprinkle some of that good kush

he go ‘aRrrrOowwww’

he’s basically banging his head on the carpet trying to snort this shit the best he can

you and todorokitty have some good times and some bad times

but you do miss actually Todoroki

it makes you sad some nights because you thought he might be avoiding you

when he sees you sad, it reminds him of his mom tbh and he never wants you to feel this way,,especially if he’s literally right in front you

he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and put tiny kitten licks all over your face

👅 aaaulghh

the next day, you walked into your room after a trying day of school and flopped onto your bed where you thought your precious kitten was so you went to pet the little guy

except you were met with flesh

and i oop

😟

“are you naked? ewwwww.”

Shouto had no fucking shame

He just pulled you into his arms like nothing changed

“Shut up and let me love you, kitten”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #bakugokatsuki

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sowhatgguk · 6 years ago

Text

protect my heart - myg

REQUESTED: #25 w/ yoongi - “why don’t you understand?”

it’s been sitting in the drafts for a while, but since school has started and work isn’t as hectic, i decided to post this before i forgot. i have one more request, it’s coming soon! send in more through my ask :)

WARNING: um idk i don’t think it’s that angsty but if you’re very emotional this can be kinda sad? yoongi!bf, heartbreak, mentions of cheating and sad stuff i guess

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You stare at the message, wondering if there was something wrong. But you figured it was due to stress, so you ignored that feeling. Making Yoongi angry wasn’t something you planned to do.

You’d head to the restaurant and pick a few of his favourite things. Just to make sure he eats and sleep well at the studio. And then you’d head home. As much as yoongi hated being bothered, you knew you had to take care of his health. Sometimes, he doesn’t know his limits.

You spend time around the house watching television, checking social media and then taking a shower to get ready. you make sure to put a mask on your face before heading outside. No one would suspect you, everyone wore them in this cold weather.

But as you approach bighit’s company building, your cellphone seems to weigh heavy in your pocket. You push aside your thoughts, you were here to take care of your boyfriend and not annoy him.

You knock lightly on his studio door, the bag of food feeling heavy. You place your ear to the door, not hearing a thing. Maybe he’s sleeping? You think to yourself not before slowly opening the door.

What you see hurts your heart. Yoongi is sleeping on the couch cuddling a girl. You don’t even know her, or understand why she would be in his studio that close anyways. Maybe she replaced you.

You quietly place the food on a small table, being careful not to make a mess with his equipment everywhere. You spot a small piece of paper and pen. You write a small note to yoongi.

Hey, I noticed you fell asleep and I didn’t want to bother you and your friend. I got your favourites, make sure to warm them up. I wanted to make sure you’re eating well and sleeping well. I’m glad. Please don’t stress yourself, and take care of yourself yoongs. Because I won’t be able to do that anymore. I love you.

Y/N

in the midst of your shuffling, the noise caused yoongi to stir. You met his horrified gaze once he realized his position. He carefully tried to get up, but you gave him a sad smile.

Goodbye Min Yoongi.

You place the pen down onto the table and quietly closed the door. You walk to the elevator when you hear his footsteps. So you decide to take the emergency exit stairs 5 flights down.

You’re biting your lip, fighting your tears as you bolt down the stairs. Not bothering to be quiet, you pushed the exit door with all the energy you have and book it to your car. You lock the door, trying to breathe.

You rub your face with your hands, not caring if your makeup was ruined. The space between you and him get evidently smaller, and your lungs constrict. A panic attack.

You laugh bitterly. Getting all riled up because of a man. You promised yourself that you would never let a man affect you like this. But you never thought that man would be min yoongi.

Your hands shakily reach to press the START button to rev the engine. You see yoongi burst out the back door, frantically looking for you. He spots you crying in your car but before he can run to you, your car is leaving the parking lot. Leaving him behind.

You force yourself to turn up the radio to drown out his yelling. You refuse to be foolish. Perhaps you did have some dignity; call it pride. You had enough of people manipulating you, using you as if you were there for pure convenience.

But deep inside you knew, you would let min yoongi hurt you again anyways.

“Fuck.” Yoongi curses as he makes his way back into the building and walking into his studio. By the time he opens the door, he sees that the girl is gone, just like you. He decides to open the bag of food you got him, refusing to let your hard work go to waste. Even if he did lose you.

Your note is like a warning sign for him. But he reads it. And his heart crumbles in pain. Suddenly, the thought of eating food didn’t seem appealing anymore. He falls back onto the couch crumpling the piece of paper in his hands. And for the first time in a long time, he cries.

He lets out harsh sobs as he blindly reaches for his cellphone. He reads the texts you sent him and his grip tightens.

He wants to call you, and tell you it was a misunderstanding. He wants you back. That he needs you and loves you.

But one of his downfalls is confrontation. So he doesn’t. He leaves you alone. Leaving him to swallow his pain by working on his new track and drinking liquors til he passes out.

He doesn’t remember how long he’s been in the studio. But his body can feel it. So when somebody opens the door, he winces at the intrusion of light.

“oppa! You need to leave the studio, it reeks. Gah! Did something die in here?”

He merely turns to face another of the producers. She’s scrunching her nose at the sight of him.

He turns back to his computer, adding a few touches here and there. He hears her sigh and the door closes.

Within minutes, she comes back with namjoon, seokjin and a bottle of febreze. He gives her a confused look as Namjoon and Seokjin practically manhandle him out of the studio.

“Oh my Lord this is fucking nasty, get him out.” She says with a pained look as she sprays the whole studio.

“Hey! My equipment! I haven’t finished the track! Let me back-“ he yells as she slams the door in his face.

It’s quiet. He knows what he looks like. A pathetic mess.

“Yoongi-ssi.” Seokjin calls him, but he doesn’t meet the elder’s gaze.

“Hyung, what happened? You never work yourself this hard. You should go home.” Namjoon softly suggests as he shakes his head.

“Home? The studio is my home. Not like I can go back to the dorms.”

“What do you mean the studio is your home? What about y/n?” Seokjin inquires and at the sound of your name, he loses it.

“I cannot go back to her. I lost her hyung, don’t you get it? She fucking hates me because I broke her heart.”

“What exactly did you do wrong?” Seokjin softly asks as yoongi felt his heart constrict.

“She brought me food a few days ago. I was working on the new track. I fell asleep on the couch.”

“She got mad at you because you were sleeping?” Namjoon says confused meeting seokjin’s look.

“Yeah, she found me sleeping on the couch… with another girl.”

There was a dead silence in the room, but all Yoongi could hear was his own heart beat pounding.

“Who is the girl, Min Yoongi?” Seokjin has a subtle glint of anger in his voice as he muttered

“intern. She was bringing me coffee and we were talking about stuff and she told me to take a break. So I lied on the couch but in my sleepy mode I pulled her onto me.”

“Well she’s fired.” Namjoon sighs to himself, rolling his shoulders back to alleviate the back pain.

“She shouldn’t be engaging in things like that with coworkers let alone idols. But the question is; why did you let her?”

Maybe because I was missing you. So I could take love from anyone who offered. So why couldn’t I take it from you?

“I-i don’t know. But I have to fix it.”

“She just slept on top you, right? You didn’t sleep with her… right?”

Namjoon looks afraid to ask, probably because he was the closest friend you had in bight aside from the maknae line.

“I didn’t… but I almost.” Yoongi whispers as he hear seokjin mutter curses under his breath.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you Min Yoongi. You lost the best thing in your life because of your carelessness. Your inability to accept people into your life. So why are you upset when you keep pushing her away? You need to set fucking boundaries when entering and being in a relationship. So you either chuck your pride and make it up to Y/N or you fuck off and leave her alone. Either way you still need to apologize to her.”

Yoongi bites his inner cheek as he processes the information. He had to apologize to you, but how? Surely it’s too late, a week has already passed.

Namjoon softly nudges yoongi which shakes him out of his reverie.

“It’s better late than never, hyung. Go to her.”

For the first time in a long time, yoongi left the studio and left the building.

It’s been a week since you’ve seen Yoongi. You just assumed that things were over, since he hasn’t made an effort to contact you. His silence and lack of response just shows you that she means a lot to him.

You sigh looking at the empty tub of coffee flavoured ice-cream. Maybe you’ve sulked for a bit now, but it’s time to stop. There were things to be done, eventually.

There’s a knock on your door. You furrow your brows in confusion. You weren’t expecting anyone, did you order something online?

You open the door without looking at who it was. It was yoongi, drenched, looking like he came back from the dead a week later.

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” You say with arms crossed. You could let him inside, but part of you wants him to suffer. Also, if you were to let him inside, you would be vulnerable. And knowing your emotional state, you wouldn’t be rational and probably just take him back without batting an eye.

“I’m so fucking late and I’m sorry. I- I just need to talk to you, please Y/N. I-“

fine. I should probably let him in before Mrs. Kim 5 doors down starts to become nosy.

“Whatever, just don’t make the floor too wet.” You say opening the door wider, watching him carefully place his shoes and hanging his coat.

He follows you to the bedroom and you give him a towel to dry up in the bathroom. While he does that, you pull a pair of his clothes that he left behind and give it to him. He smiles back in gratitude but it turns out to be a grimace.

You go to the kitchen to make some tea. As you’re pouring the tea in the two mugs, you spot yoongi walk out with bare fare and a towel on his shoulders. Your heart beats at the sight of him, so maybe you’re not healing as fast as you wanted.

He sits at the chairs you’ve planted near the countertop. You both quietly drink, allowing the background noise of rain to fill the room.

After a while, he speaks.

“I don’t know how many times I will apologize to express myself, but I know none of them will make things better. You might not even forgive me, and that’s something I have to live with.”

You decide to look at anywhere but him. Maybe if you saw the emotion in his eyes, it would become more surreal.

“- but I can’t ask to be back in your life regardless if I don’t give you an explanation. And I know I don’t deserve to be in your life after this. Not as a boyfriend or even a friend.

But basically i was distancing myself from you, because I was stressed, I didn’t want it to affect our relationship but-“

He lets out a bitter laugh, looking into his cup.

“-Turns out I did more than that, didn’t I? And what you saw was basically this intern I’ve been teaching her the ropes at bight. She told me to take a break, since I was working for too long. So when I lied on the couch, I reached out for her hand and she fell on top of me.

I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because she reminded me of you. That I enjoyed someone taking care of me no matter who it was. But that was it, I didn’t sleep with her. But, I mean I could have. I don’t know what I was thinking.

But I understand why that would make you feel betrayed. I’m so sorry Y/N… I pushed you away when you were trying to just offer me your heart.”

“Yoongi.” You call out as he wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

“You really broke my heart. Not just seeing you with her but the fact that you went to anyone but me.”

“But I’m here! I’m saying sorry and that I still love you. Why don’t you understand?”

“What do you mean I don’t understand? I did more than understand, I never bothered or smothered you. I gave you space. I allowed you to be by yourself and a space to talk things through. If anything, you don’t understand. You don’t value our relationship or me, min yoongi. Who goes to say later you won’t do something worse?”

Yoongi looks helpless, but you avert your gaze. You walk to put your glass in the sink. And when you turn around, he’s on the floor. Kneeling at your feet. On reflex, you bend down to his level offering a hand.

“You don’t need to kneel, yoongi. Save yourself the embarrassment. Get up.”

He shook his head, frame trembling with each word he spoke. “I can’t lose you, i refuse to let you go. I know you won’t forgive me, because of all the shit i’ve done but please don’t leave me. I can’t, you can’t make me please.”

You stare at his pathetic frame for a while, memorizing his features. sure, he didn’t sleep with her. but not to say it wasn’t his fault. who am i to be angry with her when he pulled her on top? but do all people deserve second chances? won’t i be regarded as weak and naive?

“I can’t make you leave. I can’t make you stop loving me. But I can protect my heart, which is something you failed to do. I’m sorry, Min Yoongi. I would say to give me time, but i don’t know how long that will be. And you’re a busy man, with a life filled with success you won’t have time for me.”

Yoongi looks at you with bloodshot eyes and nods. He turns to leave as you follow him to the door shakily. Before he steps outside, he turns to face you. His lip starts to quiver, and your heart breaks.

“can i ask a favour from you? just one more time?” he meekly asks as you nod.

he slowly reaches for your arms, and you let him touch you. you want to feel his embrace, but it feels different this time. and when he gets closer, you close the gap. a farewell kiss.

and ever since that shared moment, you don’t see min yoongi ever again.

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foreverwayward · 6 years ago

Text

“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 1: The Magnificent Seven

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 9,452

Content Warning: language and violence, pre smut

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

Sam and Dean had sent Riley on what felt like a wild goose chase. They had asked for her to go find a special beer that Dean was ‘craving’, but nowhere seemed to have it in stock. She was fed up with the search and nearly gave up.

Finally, nearly a town away and after two hours of searching eight different stops, she found it.

It was Riley’s birthday and she had spent the night running around on a ‘crazy person’s errand’. With all that was going on, she didn’t blame the guys for forgetting her day.

If Riley didn’t constantly feel the nagging reminder of the ticking clock, already stealing away what time they had left with Dean, she would have given up after shop number two.

She got out of the Impala in front of the motel with a huff. Grabbing the pack of bottles, which she already held a grudge against, Riley headed for the room.

There was music coming from their room and her face scrunched with curiosity. The blinds had been shut and a soft light seemed to twinkle through the cracks.

Riley opened the door and stopped in awe when she looked inside.

The room was covered in lit cheap tea candles. Soft classic rock swept through the air along with the smell of burgers that already had her mouth watering. A blanket had been laid out on the floor with take-out spread across to look like a picnic.

But there, standing in front of it all, was Dean. He was obviously anxious with a goofy smile on his face.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he chuckled nervously.

“What--what is all this?” Riley asked putting down the beer.

“You think that just because of all the crazy going on lately that I wouldn’t do something for your birthday?” Dean looked at her with complete adoration before he nodded toward the beer with a smirk. “I can’t believe you actually found that. You’re good.”

Riley gazed around the room again and she felt she could almost cry with joy. “I thought you forgot. I mean…”

“You really thought I’d forget your birthday? Rye, come hell or high water, I’ll never forget about you.” Dean slowly stepped closer and gently took the side of her face to meet her with a passionate kiss. When he pulled away, he grinned and her eyes fluttered open after being floored by the way he had kissed her. “So, you like it?”

“I love it,” she giggled.

Dean’s arm opened up to to the room and he gestured her in. “After you.”

------

After devouring the cheeseburgers, fries, and what turned out to be a beer well worth the trip, the two both had aching faces from smiling at their time together. As the stereo played on, Journey’s ‘Faithfully’ came on and Dean took one more swig of his beer with a smile.

“Come on,” he told her as he stood.

Riley looked at him with a curious smirk. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.” Dean smiled, putting out his hand to help her stand.

She finally obliged him with a soft laugh.

Pulling her close, Dean put his large hand around her waist and rested it on the small of Riley’s back, his other hand holding hers as they swayed to the music.

“You know,” Dean said softly. “If someone told me I’d do this for a girl someday, I’d have told them they were high.” They both laughed. “You make me do stupid shit, woman.”

Riley’s face fell as she was struck by a realization.

“What’s wrong? Did I fuck this up? Because I have no idea what I’m doing. Don’t blame me, blame every romantic comedy ever.” Dean stopped, embarrassed by what he had said. “...which I never watch, by the way.”

“No. No, it’s perfect,” she told him with restraint. “I just--I just suddenly realized this is the last birthday that…”

Dean knew exactly what she was saying. He wouldn’t be around for her next birthday or any after that for that matter. That’s why he had to make her feel special. The hunter wasn’t going to waste what time he had left time with Riley. And he wasn’t about to let anything ruin their night together.

“Well, Sam got another room, so it’s just you and me,” he said with a flirty smirk as he slid Riley’s other hand up and around his neck.

Staring into his eyes, the candlelight flickered and danced in his green irises. The world always disappeared in those moments with him.

So with a sigh, Riley tried to let go of everything else even though a tear slipped down her cheek. “Okay. We have tonight, right?”

His thumb wiped away the tear and he lost himself in her. Dean never grew used to how beautiful Riley was. He could stare at her for hours and still feel his stomach flip like the first time he saw her.

“...I love you,” he whispered. Dean was never good at using those words. They came few and far between, but he always showed the words he couldn’t say. So, when he did say them, Riley knew how deeply he meant it.

“I love you, too.”

They came together in a heated kiss as they eagerly pressed against each other. It was slow, yet intense and created a fire inside them both.

Dean picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him before he slowly laid her down on the bed, his eyes never losing hers. Every motion was steady and deliberate. His hands were gentle and loving as they ran over her and tenderly undressed her as she did the same for him.

Riley’s breath hitched as Dean mouth placed open-mouthed, fervent kisses down her neck and chest as he worshipped her. He watched her gasp as he touched her in a way that made her eyes shut as she arched her back.

Dean kept his rhythm with her, watching her every movement and reaction as she writhed underneath him and came undone. As she caught her breath, Dean found his place above her and their lips met in an uncontrollably hungry kiss.

“I need you,” she whined under her breath.

Bringing them together, they both moaned as he whispered in her ear. “I’m yours.”

------

Later that night, the two laid naked in each other’s arms with the sheet intertwined between them. Music still played and the candles had almost all burnt out, their clothes strewn about the room.

Sam came through the door as he asked tiredly, “hey are you guys, conscious? Bobby called and--”

His eyes fell on the couple and he groaned in disgust seeing that Dean wasn’t covered in all the areas he wished he had been. “Oh, god, dude...cover yourself up! Jesus.”

Riley and Dean woke to the noise. The sleepy blue-eyed girl covered up.

Dean just smiled at his brother with barely opened eyes. “This is how God intended it, Sammy.”

“Ugh,” Sam groused. “Someone give me a knife so I can gouge my eyes out.”

------

The Impala leaped and bounded over dips in the road and her engine roared. Dean’s cheers of excitement along with loud music echoed from the car and into the night.

Both Riley and Sam looked uneasy, but said nothing as Dean grinned from ear to ear.

“Woo!” he shouted with pure joy.

“You know, Dean,” Sam said from the back, “that was a part of you I never wanted to see.”

With a quick glance to his brother in the rearview mirror, Dean’s eyes still beamed. “Hey, I appreciate you giving me some time with my girl tonight. It was much needed.” Taking Riley’s hand, he put her knuckles to his lips and kissed them, still smiling.

Sam chuckled softly. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Really?” he asked with an approving look.

“Yeah. You deserve to have a little fun.”

Dean smirked at Riley. “Well, I guess that means you and I are gonna be having a lot of fun, sweetheart,” he added with a playful wink.

Rolling her eyes in a teasing manner, Riley shifted to look towards Sam. “So, what did Bobby say he found?”

“Not much. Crop failure and a cicada swarm outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. Could be demonic omens--”

“Could also just be the failing crops or someone forgot the bug spray.”

“True. But it’s the only lead we’ve got. Bobby said he didn’t find any weird deaths or anything. Not yet at least.”

“It's weird, man,” Dean chimed in. “I mean, the night the Devil's Gate opened, all these weirdo storm clouds were sighted over how many cities? Seventeen? You'd think it would be ‘Apocalypse Now’, but it's been five days and bubkis. I mean, what are the demons waiting for?”

Sam just shrugged. “Beats me.”

“It's driving me crazy. I tell you, if it's gonna be war, I wish it would just start already.”

With a look of concern and sadness, Riley muttered under her breath, “can’t say I share your sentiment.”

------

The next morning, Sam, Dean, and Riley pulled up outside a farmhouse in what looked like the middle of nowhere. Green fields and trees surrounded the property, the air filled with the sound of cicadas.

As they all got out of the car, Dean held a large, bacon cheeseburger in his hand, taking slow, large bites from it.

Riley put a hand over her eyes to block the sun as she looked around. “Jesus. Those cicadas sound like they’re everywhere.” With a glance back at the brothers, she asked, “that can’t be good, can it?”

“No. No, it can’t,” Sam replied.

Bobby had already been waiting for them as he leaned against his beat-up car. He walked over to greet them and his eyes went straight to Dean. “So, we’re eating bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast now, are we?”

“Well, I sold my soul,” Dean answered with a mouthful. “Got a year to live. I ain't sweating the cholesterol.”

A heavy sigh came from Riley at his words. How could he not see how much it killed her and Sam when he talked like that? And even among all those emotions of confusion and heartache, Riley couldn’t feel it like she used to.

Her empathic abilities seemed to have dulled after her death, but that night in the cemetery, she had felt more powerful than ever. Only now, everything felt muted. Riley realized how helpless she felt not being able to know what the others were feeling or thinking. For the first time, she missed being an empath.

Trying to ignore the thoughts that raced through her a mile a minute, she moved on from them. “So, Bobby...what’s going on? Are we thinking biblical plague? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, I’m not fond of the whole ‘firstborn dies’ thing.”

“Well, let's find out,” Bobby motioned towards the porch and they all went up the wooden steps. “Looks like the swarm's ground zero.”

Dean pounded his fist against the door. “Candygram!”

There was no answer except the chirping of the millions of cicadas.

Riley knelt down and picked the lock.

As they finally opened the door, they all covered their noses and coughed in disgust as they gagged. The smell of death wafted through the home. Stale air mixed with the what could only be described as rotting meat with drops of cheap perfume was enough to make the hunters feel the urge to vomit.

“Oh, god. That’s fucking awful,” Sam mumbled through his hand that covered his mouth.

With a groan, the older Winchester replied, “mm. That so can’t be a good sign.”

The house was almost the picture perfect example of what a farmhouse would look like in the movies. Flower wallpaper covered the walls and brightened the rooms with doily curtains draped over the windows. The wooden floors creaked under the hunters’ heavy boots as they walked through the home.

Guns drawn, Sam, Riley, and Dean fought through the stench as they moved methodically through the house. They cleared the rooms in a tactical fashion, covering each other’s backs. Still, their eyes all found each other when they noticed the sound of panicked screams.

Sam and Dean busted through the door of the only room that remained unchecked with Riley behind them. The brothers moaned in revulsion at the even more abhorrent smell that hit them like a bus. Flies buzzed through the room, thriving on the leftover remains.

Recoiling at the increased odor, Riley put her nose into the crook of her arm. “Oh, Christ,” she rasped.

A family of three sat on the couch, staring into the TV. They had all been dead for several days and their corpses had already begun to rot. An episode of ‘Dallas’ played on the television with the eyes of the deceased family still settled on it.

Bobby had made his way back to the others after clearing the upstairs. The smell made his face scrunch and he groaned with another cough before seeing what remained of the house’s former occupants.

“What the fuck happened here?” Sam questioned.

Dean gave a quick nod to his brother, Bobby, and Riley. “Check for sulfur.”

As they all investigated the room, Dean heard a noise out front and whistled quietly to get the others’ attention. He signaled that he was going to check it out and Riley followed.

Bobby and Sam circled around the other direction to come up behind the noise.

Out on the patio, the couple exited cautiously with their guns aimed and looked around. As Dean lead them around the side of the house, he was knocked to the ground by a man with a shotgun.

Riley’s stance changed, ready for a fight as she held her finger near the trigger staring the stranger down.

A woman joined him and stood at his side. The dark-skinned couple stared the hunters down.

Bobby and Sam came up from the other side and Bobby asked curiously, “Isaac? Tamara?” He approached them both with a grin on his face.

“Bobby?” The woman had a smooth British accent and a short pixie haircut. Her skin was gorgeously smooth with a glowy, milk chocolate tone. “What the hell are you doing here?” Tamara beamed with joy at the sight of what seemed to be an old friend.

“I could ask the same,” Bobby chuckled.

“Heya, Bobby.” Isaac boomed in a deep bass as he smiled from ear to ear. His hair was buzzed so short it almost looked like a military cut. Throwing his shotgun against his shoulder, his other hand reached out to give the older hunter a firm and welcoming handshake.

Riley’s eyes darted back and forth in uncertainty as Dean groaned on the ground.

He raised his arm pitifully and waved for attention. “Hello. Bleeding here.”

------

That night, in Tamara and Isaac’s home, the hunters all gathered in what was possibly once a combined kitchen and dining area. Voodoo paraphernalia filled the space and smelt like earth, wood, and spices. Candles that spread all over were the only light in the home the hunters had made for themselves. There were shelves upon shelves of unidentified jars, herbs and more all around them. Large bunches of herbs that were still drying, hung from the ceiling. As much as it was a home, it gave a strange feeling of an old warehouse. And the amount of lore and books put Bobby’s collection to shame.

Dean was on the phone, working his charm with the girl at the coroner’s office trying to get information on the dead family they had stumbled upon.

Riley rolled her eyes with humor at his flirty tone. With her hands in her back pockets, she studied everything Isaac and Tamara had collected over the years.

“Honey?” Isaac called fumbling through their inventory. “Where’s the Palo Santo?”

Sam and Riley exchanged a look showing neither knew what that meant, so the Winchester asked. “Palo Santo?”

“Holy wood. It’s from Peru. Just like how holy water is toxic to demons, this kind of does the same thing. Pins the bastards down during an exorcism.” Tamara dug into a bag and pulled out a large, pointed stake. She handed it to Isaac with an affectionate smile.

He smirked with a look that let them know Isaac wouldn’t know what to do without Tamara around. “Thank you, dear.”

Love. Finally, a strong emotion came through loud and clear for Riley. As much as she wanted to celebrate the returning feeling, anyone could sense the love between the couple. She glanced down at their hands to see wedding bands and smiled. Married hunters.

“I guess it can happen…” Riley thought to herself. With a quick loving look over to Dean, she tried to clear her mind of the passing notion. “So, how long have you two been married?”

“Eight years this past June,” Tamara answered with a proud expression.

“A June wedding. I bet that was nice. I think I’d wanna get married in the fall, though. It’s so beautiful--no. No! Riley, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve never been like this. Get these stupid ideas out of your head.”

Isaac’s hand gently went behind Tamara’s head to pull her forward as he planted a kiss on her forehead.

They truly were happy together and there was a hint of jealousy in Riley. She knew Dean wasn’t the marrying type and Riley swore she would never get married either. Being a hunter with a spouse was just asking for trouble.

Her focus went back to Dean as he walked into the room to join them. “Thank god he can’t hear my thoughts,” Riley reflected with a sigh. “But my god I love that man.”

“That was the coroner’s tech,” Dean told everyone as he tucked his phone into his pocket. “Get this--that whole family’s cause of death? Dehydration and starvation. There were no signs of restraint, no violence, no struggle. They just sat down and never got up.”

Bobby shook his head almost in disbelief. “With a stocked kitchen only feet away?”

“What is this, a demon attack?” Sam asked Bobby as he turned to face him.

“If it is, it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty.”

“Well, now what? What do we do?” Dean sat on the wooden bench where Riley had been resting and his arm went around her waist to hold her close.

She tried to hide the smile that was creeping on her face, but shut down her feelings fast.

Then, as though she had forgotten for only a brief period of time, reality hit Riley, hard. Even if Dean would want to get married someday...he wouldn’t be around for it. He was going to Hell in one year...because of her. Riley would lose him forever and whatever future she fantasized of, would never come to be. That smile she had tried to hide, quickly dissipated on its own.

“Uh…” Isaac somewhat chuckled. “‘We’re’ not gonna do anything. You guys all seem nice enough, but this ain’t ‘Scooby-Doo’. We don’t play well with others. And, no offense, but we’re not teaming up with the damn fools who let the Devil’s Gate get opened in the first place.” His stern leer sat on Sam, Riley, and Dean.

Dean’s eyebrows rose and his jaw clenched. “No offense?”

“Sure, I’ve made my share of mistakes before. But I never brought on the end of the goddamn world, though,” Isaac bit.

After all that the three had been through, Dean was having a hard time taking gruff from a guy they had just met. He chuckled through his anger. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Taking Isaac’s hand, Tamara began to pull him away and lead him out of the room. “Okay, I think that’s enough testosterone for now.”

Little did they know, outside, hiding among the trees was a young woman with long blonde hair. She watched them all through the window intently before disappearing back into the shadows.

------

Sam, Dean, and Riley had responded to a call they had picked up from the police scanner. Saying they were undercover detectives, they were able to get into the closed crime scene and into one of the small shops that lined the street.

A woman had wanted a pair of shoes so badly that when she found out they had just sold the last pair, she chased down the girl that bought them. After confronting her, to get what she wanted, she bashed the victim’s head into a car windshield again and again until blood pooled from her skull. Her body was found on the sidewalk, the shoes missing.

As Sam surveyed the shop and interviewed any witnesses, he then realized Riley and Dean were nowhere to be found. He heard a rustling coming from the dressing rooms and rolled his eyes realizing that there was a couple in there.

“Guys!” he whispered firmly.

The curtain swept open and Riley cleared her throat as she buttoned the top of her shirt. Dean’s belt hung undone as he zipped up his pants and grinned.

They both scurried out and Riley could barely look Sam in the eyes knowing he caught them fooling around and she walked off. Still, Dean’s smile refused to fall as he stared his brother down.

“What are you guys doing?” Sam asked with annoyance. “We’re supposed to be working. Dead body, possible demon attack--that kind of stuff.”

Dean coughed dramatically. “Sam, I'm sorry. It's just, I don't have much time left, and, uh--” he added more theatrical coughing and his voice went husky and weak. “Got to make every second count.”

Chastened, Sam replied, “right. Yeah, sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Still completely content, Dean’s eyes drifted toward Bobby who walked in to join them.

He was in a full suit with his hair slicked back. None of the young hunters had ever seen him undercover or even out of his worn clothes and beaten baseball caps.

“Woah,” Dean whistled. “Lookin’ pretty spiffy there, Bobby. What are you, a G-man?”

“Attorney for the D.A.’s office,” Bobby answered as he straightened his tie in the mirror. “Just spoke with the suspect.” His hands found his pockets and he strode over to the brothers as Riley found her way back to the group. “I don’t know if we’re talking demon possession or not. There's none of the usual signs--no blackouts, no loss of control. Totally lucid. Just--she really wanted those shoes. Spilled a glass of holy water on her just to be sure; nothing.”

“I saw the shoes, I get it,” Riley joked and the guys all turned to her. “What? Too soon?”

Bobby ignored the comment and went on, “First the family, now this? I don’t think this girl just went nuts. I believe in a lot of things. Coincidence ain't one of them. Did you kids find anything around here?”

“We checked everything. There’s no sulfur or anything like that anywhere. But--” Riley slyly pointed up towards a security camera on the ceiling.

Dean fixed his jacket with a pleased look on his face before his large hand took Riley’s waist. “See? We’re workin’.”

------

After going over the security footage, the group was able to pinpoint a brown-headed man with a beard and mustache to match. Just before the suspect in the shop had gone after the victim, he had whispered into her ear with a devilish grin.

Riley, Dean, and Bobby sat in a dark alley in Bobby’s car staking out a local dive bar. Neon lights lit up the black corner spot reading: The Old Terminal Pub. The soft drizzle of rain just barely made a sound as it fell onto the old car.

Bobby yawned and squinted along with it. “What time is it?”

“Seven past midnight,” Dean told him as he looked at his watch.

“You sure this is the right place?”

The Winchester groaned in exhaustion. “No. But we spent all day canvassing this stupid fucking town with this guy's stupid fucking mug, and--supposedly, he drinks at this...stupid fucking bar.”

There was a loud pounding on the window and all three jumped. It was Sam who just grinned at their discomfort before slipping into the backseat with Riley. She had been sprawled out and sat up straight to make room for her brother before shoving him.

“You’re a dick,” Riley told him.

“Yeah,” Sam disregarded his sister’s frustration.

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam’s long legs pushed against his seat in the small truck.

“Uh--alright, so, John Doe's name is Walter Rosen. He's from Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Went missing about a week ago.”

“Let me guess. The night the Devil’s Gate opened?”

“Yup. Good bet is he’s possessed.”

Riley gave Sam a curious look. “So, what? This guy just touches people and they go all--” she stopped to imitate the sound effect from the movie ‘Psycho’. “Eee! Eee! Eee!” while miming a stabbing.

“Those demons that got out at the gate--” Bobby added with his gaze still set on the bar, “they're gonna do all kinds of things we haven't seen.”

“You mean the demons we let out,” Sam rebutted solemnly.

Dean sat up quickly, noticing something in the distance. “Guys…” The man they were searching for got out of his car and walked towards the bar. “Alright. Showtime.”

As Dean got ready to get out of the car, Bobby stuck out a hand to stop him. “Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“What'd I just say? We don't know what to expect out of this guy. We should tail him ‘til we know for sure.”

“Oh, so he kills someone and we just sit here with our dicks in our hands?”

“We're no good dead! And we're not gonna make a move until we know what the score is.”

Riley tapped on Sam’s shoulder rapidly to get his attention as she pointed out the window.

The young Winchester looked in the appropriate direction before he said, “hey, Bobby. I don’t think that’s an option.”

“Why not?”

Slightly annoyed, Riley rolled her eyes and leaned forward over the center console and pointed for Dean and Bobby. “That’s why not.”

From another car across the lot, Tamara and Isaac got out and made their way towards the bar.

Bobby hit the steering wheel in frustration and cursed, “dammit!” He sighed and resigned to their lack of options.

Only a few minutes had passed before loud noises, screams, and chaos erupted from the bar.

“Alright, Dean, you’re coming with me. Riley, you and Sam get ready to haul ass with the holy water when we signal.”

Getting out of the car, Bobby and Dean sprinted across the lot towards the bar door. There was crying and screaming inside as they tried to get in. The hunters' shoulders rammed against the sealed entrance again and again, but it wouldn’t budge.

Dean held his shoulder and muttered, “son of a bitch. That’s a quality door.”

Both of them turned to the sound of squealing tires.

Riley was in the driver’s seat of Bobby’s car with a slightly panicked Sam in the passenger’s seat. She skid to a stop and through the window yelled, “get in!”

Bobby and Dean both hurried in and slammed the doors before she floored the gas. The tires screeched beneath them as she shot across the lot and stopped at the edge.

“Uh--what exactly’s the plan here, sweetheart?” Dean asked nervously.

Riley put her hand behind the passenger seat and looked over her shoulder. “Hang on.” With her foot shoved into the gas, the lemon of a car sped across the parking lot with no desire to stop.

As Sam looked out the back window, the bar grew closer and closer. “Oh, shit…” he muttered.

The back of the car broke through the bar’s large doors; rubble and wood fell all around the vehicle. Tables went slamming across the room and glass shattered.

All of the hunters scrambled out of the car to see Tara being held hostage by several demons while she cried and wailed. Isaac laid dead on the ground, blood still pouring from his mouth with a large empty bottle of drain cleaner sat beside him.

Bobby, Sam, Dean, and Riley came armed with large canteens of holy water and began to fling the liquid into the group of demons. Their skin burned and sizzled at the touch of the blessed water as they all tried to shield themselves.

Sam rushed through to grab Tamara who was screaming Isaac’s name. She was thrusting herself in the direction of his body, desperately wanting to be at his side.

Continuing to spray the water around, Riley stopped as an emotion hit her like a punch to the chest. The wind was knocked out of her as she slightly stumbled back and grabbed at her heart. It was Tamara’s grief, consuming her like wildfire.

Riley nearly winced at the pain before she ran to help Sam pull her away. “He’s gone! He’s gone, Tamara! We gotta go!”

The young Winchester and Riley had to force her into the car as she kicked and screamed wanting to get back to Isaac. Dean and Bobby covered their backs as they continued their assault on the demons with the jugs of water.

“Dean! Bobby! Come on!” Riley shouted.

Bobby rushed to the driver’s seat, ready to go while Dean kept on fighting. When he ran out of holy water, the bearded man from earlier smiled mischievously. The Winchester charged at him and overpowered the man before throwing him into the trunk. A Devil’s Trap was inscribed on the trunk lid that Dean then slammed shut.

He tumbled into the front seat of the car and closed his door as he yelled, “go, go, go, go, go, go, go!”

The car was shifted into gear and the five of them peeled out of the bar.

All of the demons that remained in the wrecked pub watched the car drive away, their eyes black as they panted out of breath.

------

Back at Tamara and Isaac’s house, the captured demon sat tied to a chair in a nearly empty room. A Devil’s Trap was on the ceiling above him, keeping the creature from going anywhere as an argument went on in the next room.

“...and I say we're going back-- now!” Tamara shouted. “I left my husband bloody on the floor! None of you have to go--you can stay. But I’m going back to that bar.” She began to go for the front door and Dean followed behind.

“I'll go with her.”

Riley was sitting in a chair with her feet bouncing with anxiety. Her empathic abilities were coming back and with all the emotions around her, it was becoming difficult to ground herself. She almost didn’t even hear Dean’s declaration to leave.

“It's suicide, Dean!” Sam barked.

“So what? I'm dead already!”

Completely fed up, Riley marched over to Dean. She felt like she was going to explode and hearing Dean say what he did was the last straw. “And how exactly do you two plan on killing them? You can’t shoot them. You can’t stab them. It’s not like you’re gonna be able to get them to wait in line for an exorcism!”

Tamara just yelled back through her tears, “I don't care!”

Riley then took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew how much Tamara loved her husband, the bond they had.

That was exactly why hunters should never get married. But Riley looked at Dean’s face and realized that it didn’t matter if she wore a ring or not. She was bound to him forever. Riley didn’t have to be his wife to need him or to suffer unimaginably if she lost him. And only a year from then, Riley would be just as inconsolable when she would lose Dean to the deal he had made. Marriage didn’t make that bond, love did.

With softer eyes, Riley looked at the grieving widow. “Look, we’re working with basically nothing right now and we don’t even know how many of them we’re dealing with.”

Bobby entered the room with a large, old book in his hands. It was open and his gaze was set on it. “Yeah, we do. There's seven. Do you have any idea who we're up against?” Bobby nearly seethed through his teeth. The others waited silently with no answer. “The seven deadly sins, live and in the flesh!”

With a pause and a dorky grin, Dean joked with the quote, “‘what’s in the box?’”

Everyone just stared at him in an awkward silence. Riley usually loved his references but she was too fragile to enjoy it.

Realizing no one appreciated his joke, Dean’s face fell. “Brad Pitt? ‘Se7en’? No?” Bobby slammed the book shut and threw it at the older Winchester. Dean’s eyes grew as if saying ‘tough crowd’ before he asked, “what’s this?”

“Binsfeld's Classification of Demons. In 1589, Binsfeld ID'd the seven sins--not just as human vices but as actual devils.”

Putting two and two together, Sam weighed in. “The family--they were touched by Sloth. And the shopper…”

“That's Envy's doing--the customer we got in the next room,” Bobby nodded in the demon’s direction. “I couldn't suss it out at first, until Isaac. He was touched with an awful Gluttony.”

“I don't give a rat's ass if they're the Three Stooges or the Four Tops!” Tamara bit through her sobs, filled with wrath. “I'm gonna slaughter every last one of them!”

“We already did it your way. You burst in there half-cocked and look what happened! These demons haven't been topside in half a goddamn millennium! We're talking medieval, Dark Ages! We've never faced anything close to this! So, we are gonna take a breath…and figure out what our fucking next move is!” he screamed. Bobby began to calm himself and then spoke in a much softer and calmer voice. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Tamara was practically shaking with rage as she stormed out of the room. The others could hear chuckling from the opposite side of the wall and went to where they had been keeping the demon.

“So, you know who I am, huh?” Envy asked cockily to the hunters.

“We do,” Bobby told the demon. “We're not impressed.”

Riley crossed the room to Dean as she passed the possessed man. “What’s your game? Why are you even here?”

When it didn’t answer, Dean raised his voice. “She asked you a question, asshole.”

Envy chuckled condescendingly and the older brother opened a flask of water to splash on him. The demon groaned as his skin burned. "Ahh! Ugh...we already have…” he panted, “...what we want.”

“What's that?”

“We're out. We're free. Thanks to you, my kind are everywhere. I am Legion, for we are many.” The creature laughed at the others in the room. “So me, I'm just celebrating. Having a little fun. See, some people crochet--others golf. Me? I like to see people's insides...on their outside.”

“I'm gonna put you down like a dog.” Tamara gritted her teeth.

“Please. You really think you're better than me?” Envy chortled with a large grin across his face. “Which one of you can cast the first stone, huh? What about you, Dean? You're practically a walking billboard of gluttony and lust.”

Dean nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

“And Tamara. All that wrath. Oooh…” he clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. It's the reason you and Isaac became hunters in the first place, isn't it? It's so much easier to...drink in the rage than to face what really happened all those years ago.”

Tamara’s face twisted in anger and she smacked him, hard, twice. Dean and Bobby finally pulled her back as she fought against them.

“Aah! Whew!” Envy laughed again at the rise he got from the hunters. “My point exactly. And you call us sins. We're not sins, man. We are natural human instinct. And you can repress and deny us all you want, but the truth is, you are just animals. Horny...greedy...hungry...violent animals. And you know what? You'll be slaughtered like animals, too.” With a pause, the demon leaned back to relax in his chair. “The others--they're coming for me.”

“Maybe,” Dean said with a tilt of his head. “But they're not gonna find you...'cause you'll be in Hell.” The evil creature looked almost taken back and scared at the threat. “Someone send this fucker packing.”

With an angry smirk on her face, Tamara opened up her book and stood in front of Envy. “With pleasure,” she answered before reading. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica…”

Bobby, the Winchesters, and Riley stood in the kitchen area to regroup. The sound of the demon’s painful screams echoed through the air.

“I don't think we're gonna have to worry about hunting them,” Bobby told them. “I think maybe this joker's right. They're gonna be hunting us and they're not gonna quit easy.”

“You guys, why don't you take Tamara and head for the hills?” Dean looked at his family, completely unmoved. “I'll stay back, slow them down, buy you a little time.”

Riley scoffed. “I don’t fucking think so, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “You can forget that shit.”

“There's six of them, guys.” Dean shook his head. “No. You all gotta go. We're outmanned, we're outgunned. We'll be dead by dawn.

As her eyes went up to meet Dean’s green irises, Riley let him know it was her turn to speak. “There’s nowhere we can go that they won’t find us, so it doesn’t matter. Besides,” she took Dean’s hand in hers and laced their fingers. Her other hand reached up to lay on his cheek. “If we go down...we do it together.”

Everything inside Dean wanted his family as far away as possible and safe. His mind raced as he imagined how terribly the night could end before Riley’s thoughts spilled into his.

“It’s us against the world, right?”

Dean couldn’t fight the smile that slowly curled up his face. It felt like it had been so long since he last heard Riley’s voice like that. The hunter put his palm over the smaller hand on his face and leaned into it.

Pulling her hand down to his side locked with his, Dean looked to the others with resolve. “Let’s give ‘em hell, then.”

From the other room, the demon gave out a final terrified scream. The house shook and a gust of wind blew out the candles around them.

Tamara slammed the book shut as she came from the other room. “Demon's out of the guy. But he didn’t make it,” she added coldly.

------

The old house shielded the hunters as they worked diligently to ready themselves for the coming attack. Candles around them danced across the room and over their faces. It was silent as Riley and Dean loaded their shotguns while Sam sat across the room filling flasks with holy water.

Sam, Dean, and Riley paused as they all looked towards each other. None of them uttered a word, just sharing a silent moment, like soldiers accepting their fate before battle. They didn’t know if they would make it out of that house alive, but if they were going down, they were going down swinging.

Dean leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Riley’s temple. When she glanced over at him, their foreheads leaned together with their eyes shut.

“‘Til the end,” Riley told him through a thought.

He sighed and inhaled her scent deeply as a source of comfort. “‘Til the end.”

The candle flames began to flicker as if they trembled in fear of what was to come. As they looked around, an old radio sparked to life, playing the beginnings of a scratchy recording of the gospel song ‘We Shall Not Be Moved”,

Cocking his shotgun, Dean stood with a nod. “Here we go.”

"I shall be, I shall not be moved.

I shall be, I shall not be moved.

Like a tree that's planted by the water,

I shall not be moved.

I shall be, I shall not be moved.

Like a tree that's planted by the water,

I shall not be moved."

With Bobby and Tamara in the main room, and Riley and the Winchesters down the hall, they all looked through the boarded up windows. The moonlight poured through and cast down its glow over them and onto the floor. They waited patiently and the music droned on until a cry came from outside.

“Tamara! Tamara!” It was Isaac. “Tamara! Tamara! Help me! Please!” he wailed with blood still coming out of his mouth.

Anguished, Tamara looked back at Bobby and then out the window again.

“Tamara! I got away, but I'm hurt bad! I need help!”

“It's not him,” Bobby insisted. “It's one of those demons. It's possessing his corpse.”

Isaac began to pound loudly on the door. “Baby! Why won't you let me in? You left me behind back there. How could you do that? We swore...at that lake in Michigan. Remember? We swore we would never leave each other!”

She turned to the aged hunter again and began to sob. “How did he know that?”

“You just gonna leave me out here? You just gonna let me die?!” Isaac stopped yelling and his voice lowered into a sinister growl. “I guess that's what you do, dear! Like that night those things came to our house--came for our daughter! You just let her die, too.”

“You son of a bitch!” Tamara howled at the top of her lungs. She pushed the door open and broke the thick salt line at the entrance before tackling the possessed body of her dead husband.

As they hit the ground, Tamara sat on top of him and raised the Palo Santo stake. “You're not Isaac!” She plunged the wood deep into his chest. His flesh sizzled and she screamed with heartache.

The other six demons crossed the broken salt line and sauntered into the house. One, an overweight balding man, cornered Bobby, who backed up slowly leading him into the side room. He stalked him with confidence, smiling until he stopped as if he had hit an invisible wall.

As the demon looked around, dumbfounded, he realized he was standing under a Devil’s Trap. It’s face immediately turned to one of fear and pleading until Bobby grinned.

“Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son.” He opened his book that sat nearby and began to read. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica…” Bobby continued the exorcism as Sloth yelled out in pain.

In a hallway not far away, Dean and Riley were cornered by an attractive, blonde demon--Lust. They all threw punches as she advanced on them with a smile

The couple stumbled backward until they were pushed back into a bathroom.

“I suppose you’re Lust,” Dean said very matter of fact.

Lust smirked at the hunter. “Baby, I'm whatever you want me to be.”

“Ew,” Riley scoffed in disgust. “Tacky.”

Moaning in pleasure, the demon grew closer. “I can just smell the desire between you two. Dean...the way you think about Riley--how you can never get enough. You get hard just thinking about how you make her scream your name when you fuck her. And, Riley...tsk tsk tsk. You dirty, dirty girl. You’re no better. Always imagining him inside you--the way he makes you writhe underneath him until you explode,” Lust teased as she closed her eyes to feel the tension. “It’s making me horny just being around you both. I say...you have it out right now,” she smiled in a sinister fashion. “Fuck her, Dean. Fuck her right here, right now.”

Riley and Dean turned to each other feeling the magnetic pull between them. They fought it briefly, but only for a second before thrusting themselves into the other. Their lips crashed together as their tongues passionately explored their mouths.

Dean rushed her against the wall with force before his mouth went to suck on her neck and Riley moaned out in rapture. She held his head in place and grabbed at his belt as he groped her chest. They both groaned in satisfaction with every touch.

Lust walked closer to them both to watch the show she had put on with the hunters as her puppets.

Upstairs, a demon kicked a door in and sent it clear across the room.

Sam looked around as the demon, a young man in a business suit and dark black eyes, entered with a nasty smile on his face.

“Here's Johnny!” He came toward the hunter with unwavering confidence as Sam backed up.

The Winchester held his flask of holy water to hold back the two demons flanking him.

But the demon looked up to see the Devil’s Trap on the ceiling and smirked. “Come on. You really think something like that is gonna fool someone like me? I mean, me?”

“Let me guess--you're Pride.”

Pride grinned, pleased with himself he gestured to the ceiling. A long crack appeared and split the symbol, breaking any power it may have once held. “Hmm. The root of all sin. And you...are Sam Winchester. That's right, I've heard of you. We've all heard of you. The prodigy--the boy prince. Destined to guide Hell into battle at the side of your queen, Riley. Looking at you now, I got to tell you--don't believe the hype. You think I'm gonna bow to a cut-rate, piss-poor human like you? I have my pride, after all. And now with your yellow-eyed friend dead, I guess I don't really have to do a fuckin’ thing, now do I?” Sam grew more and more nervous as the demon rambled on. “You're fair game now, boy, and it's open season.”

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Dean and Riley were working to pull off each other’s jackets, still desperately clawing at the other. Dean pushed them further back until they were nearly touching Lust.

In one swift movement, they flipped around to grab her. Riley tossed open the shower curtain as Dean plunged the possessed woman face-first into the filled bathtub. A rosary floated in the water, blessing it into holy water and Lust screamed in agony.

In the upstairs loft again, Pride knocked Sam to the ground. He pulled the hunter up with an arm wrapped around his throat and began to strangle him.

Sam gagged and choked as he struggled to get away.

Suddenly, the blonde woman that had been stalking the hunters before, appeared with a knife strapped to her thigh. Pulling out the knife, she grit her teeth and slashed the throat of Gluttony. A bright, fiery light appeared in the cut before he fell to the floor--dead.

Greed’s neck snapped in the girl’s direction and said with recognition, “you!” The demon punched the familiar face twice until she was knocked away.

But when she and Greed rushed at each other, the girl plunged her knife into the demon’s chest and yanked upwards to tear her insides. The demon dropped and joined Gluttony’s fellow corpse.

Pride let Sam go, enraged with the one killing his fellow demon, and went to tackle her. Only for Sam tug him away and punch his face; putting him directly in the path of the girl’s blade. She shoved it into his neck and up into his mouth with a grunt.

Pride gargled and his mouth dropped open, exposing the blade inside him. Sparks of demonic energy fluttered from him before he collapsed.

Sam panted as he tried to catch his breath and eyed the stranger, bewildered. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm the girl that just saved your ass.”

“Well, I just saved yours, too.”

She chuckled and turned to leave before adding, “see you around, Sam.”

“Wait!” Sam hurried to the hallway to follow her, but looking in both directions, he saw she was somehow already gone.

------

Early the next morning, Sam, Dean, and Riley piled the corpses of the vessels that hadn’t survived into a shallow pit. Riley poured salt over them as Sam doused them in fuel.

Across the field, Tamara stood in front of a lit funeral pyre as she mourned the death of her husband.

“Think she's gonna be alright?” Sam asked.

With one more look at the grieving wife and then a glance toward Riley, Dean remembered the grief he felt when he lost her. It was an unimaginable pain that no one should ever have to know. Had she never come back and he had lost her forever, Dean would never have been the same. “No. Definitely not.”

Bobby came out of the house looking completely exhausted. Large bags encircled his eyes and his face was pale.

“Well, you look like hell warmed over,” Dean teased.

Shooting him look, Bobby replied, “you try exorcizing all fucking night and see how you feel.”

“Bobby,” Riley started as she put the gear back into their duffel, “did any of them make it?”

“Well, the pretty girl and the heavy guy, they'll make it. Lifetime of therapy bills ahead but, still…”

“That's more than you can say for these poor bastards,” Dean added.

Sam turned to Bobby with a look of curiosity. “Bobby, that knife--what kind of blade can kill a demon?”

“Yesterday, I would have said there was no such thing.”

“I'm just gonna ask it again--” Dean shrugged. “Who was that masked chick? Actually, the more troubling question would be, how come a girl could kick your ass?”

Riley slugged Dean in the arm and he winced. “Wanna try that one again, Winchester?”

Rubbing his arm, Dean answered, “no, ma’am.”

The younger brother chuckled. “Yeah, well, if you want a troubling question, I got one for you. If we let out the seven deadly sins, what else did we let out?”

Both Dean and Riley paused at the thought before Dean replied, “you're right. That is troubling.” He struck a match and tossed it onto the bodies. Flames immediately grew as they looked down at the shallow grave.

Later, as the bonfires began to settle down, they all prepared to leave. Tamara didn’t hesitate to head toward her car with a quick, “see you all around.”

“Tamara?” Bobby called and her head turned at her name. “The world just got a lot scarier. Be careful.”

“You too,” she told him before getting into her car. Tamara sputtered the engine to life before taking off down the road as dirt kicked up beneath the wheels.

Bobby’s hand went into his pocket as he pulled out his car keys. “Alright, you three. Keep your eyes peeled for omens. I'll do the same.”

As she somewhat bounced on her toes with nerves, Riley met his gaze. “Bobby, we’re gonna win this thing...right?”

There was a long pause during which they all looked uncomfortable and filled with worry. Riley felt it all. Even without words, she knew, Bobby and the boys worried about the answer to her question just as much as she did.

“Catch you on the next one,” was all Bobby said before he went to his car.

The three young hunters watched his car disappear before they lingered toward the Impala.

“So, where to?” Dean asked.

Sam’s eyes went to Riley as if they shared an agenda Dean didn’t quite know yet. “Uh--I don't know. I was thinking Louisiana maybe.”

“Little early for Mardi Gras, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Listen, I was talking to Tamara, and she mentioned this hoodoo priestess outside of Shreveport that might be able to help us out. You know, with your--with your demon deal.”

“Nah,” Dean said plainly.

“‘Nah’? What does that mean, ‘nah’?”

“Sam, no hoodoo spell's gonna break this deal, all right? It's a goose chase. Forget it. She can't help.”

Riley bit her tongue as Sam tried to cut in again. “Look, it's worth--”

But Dean just spoke over his brother. “We're not going and that's that. What about Reno, huh?” Dean smacked Sam’s arm playfully before he turned to walk on.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Riley strode in front of Dean and blocked him with a stern look. “I’ve had it. I’ve tried to act like nothing’s wrong, given into your every whim to make you happy, and you’re just gonna blow us off? We’re trying to keep you alive, Dean!” She lowered her voice as a lump grew in her throat. “I mean, you act like you want this...”

“No, it's not like that.”

“Then what is it?” she pleaded. “Tell me.”

Dean’s head fell and he bit his bottom lip searching for the words to say before his eyes met hers again. “We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welch our way out of the deal in any way? You die. Okay? You die. Those are the terms. There's no way out of it. If you try to find a way, so help me god, I'm gonna stop you. I’m not gonna let either of you do anything that ruins this.”

With her mouth slightly agape, Riley almost whispered with disbelief, “how? How could you make a deal like that, Dean?”

“'Cause I couldn't live with you dead--couldn't do it. There’s no life that I could want if you aren’t in it.”

“So, what? I’m just supposed to go on with my life?”

“That's the general idea, yeah.”

“Yeah, well, you're a hypocrite, Dean,” Sam butted in. “How did you feel when Dad sold his soul for you? 'Cause I was there. I remember. You were twisted and broken. And now you go and do the same thing. To her--to us. What you did was selfish.”

“Yeah, you're right. It was selfish. But I'm okay with that.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Dean ran a hand over his face and looked off into the distance with a sigh. His attention went back to Riley and Sam as he slightly shrugged. “Truth is, I'm tired. I don't know, it's like there's a--a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Those words about made Riley’s knees collapse underneath her.

“It's Hellfire, Dean.”

As her leg shook with anxiety and swelling emotions, Riley could barely look at Dean. Tears began to fall from her eyes. “So you won’t even fight? You’re tired and want this whole fucked up hunting life to be done--sure, I get that. But you won’t even for us?” Riley couldn’t help but feel her heart break. “What happened to forever?” her voice cracked.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed. “I am yours...forever--even after I’m gone. That may not be how we planned it, but it is what it is. We need to make the most out of the time we have. I got one year and I’m not gonna waste it. Especially after us losing the--” Dean’s voice trailed off realizing that he had just started a conversation he wasn’t prepared for.

Sam’s brow furrowed and his jaw clenched knowing the news Riley was about to get.

“Losing what?” she asked.

“I--I’m tired,” Dean stammered nervously. “I dunno what I’m talking about.”

“Losing what, Dean? What did we lose?”

He took her hand and stared lovingly into her eyes. Tears formed and ached to fall as he wished more than anything he didn’t have to tell her the truth. “Rye…”

“Dean, you’re scaring me.”

Clearing his throat, he pushed on. “When--when I went to make that deal, the, uh--the demon...she told me that the deal would only save one soul.” A tear fell down his cheek. “That it would bring you back...but it wouldn’t bring back the baby.”

Riley nearly gasped as it felt like her heart stopped in her chest. “...what?”

Dean sniffled. “You were pregnant--a couple weeks. I tried--I tried to make the deal for you both, but I couldn’t. I’m so, so sorry, Rye. I tried--I promise I tried,” he cried.

She stumbled backward as if she had been struck. Tears flowed freely from Riley’s eyes but her face went vacant with no expression, though her lip trembled.

Dean was crushed as he watched her silently come undone. “Sweetheart...please say something.”

“We…” her voice shook. “We made a baby?”

A brief sob escaped Dean’s lips before he swallowed the rest down. “Yeah, honey. We did.”

The couple’s eyes locked, soaked with the suffering that poured from them. At that moment, they grieved their loss together.

Riley licked the tears from her lip and sniffled. “Gimme a minute, ‘kay?”

The brothers both nodded as she walked out into the field nearby. They watched as she stared into the horizon, the sun glistening over the hills.

She wrapped her arms around herself as the breeze blew her hair gently across her face. The sound of the moving grass and trees in the wind whistled softly, just barely covering her cries.

Sam and Dean rested against Baby’s hood with heavy hearts, never taking their eyes off her.

“I can’t fix this, Sammy…” Dean could barely utter.

“No,” Sam sighed before putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder in comfort. “No, you can’t.”

------

S3 Chapter 2: The Kids are Alright

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parkjaewonn · 6 years ago

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ₛₑₗf ₚₐᵣₐ } 불필요한

jaewon’s day has gone by pretty slowly,, in fact part of it feels like it’s never ending but as soon as he’s out of school it’s easier. it passes by that bit quicker. but he’s at the library until it’s almost dark and by the time he’s done he’s wandering home. he should have really heeded yejun’s words about not being out late at night but it’s not T H A T late right now,, however he also shouldn’t have his headphones on,, blasting music because anybody could be wandering around but it wasn’t like he couldn’t defend himself. he could. on his way home,, he grabbed some hot food and then took a small detour that would get him back to his apartment quicker.

adjusting his bag over his shoulder,, jaewon walks up the steps towards his apartment the faint sound of whistling catching his attention and he looks up immediately frozen to the spot because he can’t P O S S I B L Y be here. he takes a good hard look before he realises that his father is in fact standing near his apartment door,, head leaning against the wall whistling to himself. jaewon debates whether or not to go straight up to the door go in,, lock it and ignore him. but of course he does the opposite,, he attempts to slowly back away,, he can go to a diner for a while until he’s S U R E that his sperm donor father is gone and he ALMOST manages to make it to the stairs to get down them but his phone slips from his hand and clatters against the ground.

jaewon cringes and internally does nothing but curse himself out ( because what idiot drops their phone when they’re trying to be quiet and S T E A L T H Y to get away ? ) the disruption has caught his father’s attention. “ jaewon. “ the boy lets his head fall for a moment as he picks his phone up and he sighs still internally demeaning himself he stands up and looks over at him. “ what are you doing . . . no. sorry. how did you even know where i was ? “ he asks. it’s been almost two years,, and jaewon had no idea that the man even K N E W where to find him and it makes him feel uneasy but he grips his now cracked phone in one hand and the other gripping so tightly against his bag that his knuckles have turned white.

“ it wasn’t hard. most of your stuff was left in your room. “ the elder shrugs his shoulders having moved so he was a few feet away from jaewon,, who’s chest is visibly rising and falling with the shallow breaths he’s taking. “ why are you here ? “ he asks him and he swallows when his father takes a step closer and they’re just inches apart. his doe eyes wide because he’s really not sure what he’s expecting. “ well i missed you,, didn’t i ? “ he says it as if it were some sort of question,, one that jaewon doesn’t grasp and he slowly begins shaking his head but before he can open his mouth to speak he’s been pulled into a lung crushing hug,, one that even jaewon knows is forced. he’s stiffened completely because this is the first time in his nineteen years of life that his father has given him any sign or physical sense of affection.

jaewon doesn’t like it, in fact it actually makes him feel physically sick and he’s unsure of what he’s supposed to do until the man pulls back. he’s smiling and god, that smile is so forced jaewon finds it disgusting and he steps back away from him. “ you don’t look happy to see me. “ he states and jaewon doesn’t bother trying to correct him because what’s the point in lying and telling him that he did MISS him when he hasn’t ? “ what are you really . . . here for ? “ he asks and he swallows. dreading the answer but his father just shrugs. “ i know someone around here. then i remembered my boy was here too. “ jaewon struggles not to cringe and make faces because of the way his skin crawls when the man says his boy,, and he knows it’ll piss him off and the last thing he wants is that. “ now why don’t we go inside, hm ? “

jaewon frowns deeply to himself once the man takes the box food from him and points to the door. jaewon’s still so confused about H O W his father has found him and he trudges over to the door with a deep crease on his forehead and his cheeks burning hot as he unlocks the door the man moves past him quickly into the warmth that is jaewon’s apartment. frowning still jaewon walks in behind him closing the door over. instead of following his father into the living room,, jaewon goes to his O W N,, leaning against the wall and trying not to bang his head against it in frustration. his hands brushing through his own hair he tugs at it and sighs D E E P L Y because what else can he do ? he glances at the door briefly before he looks around his room with a slight frustrated quiet groan.

in the process of removing his hoodie,, he drops it to the floor the moment he hears that initial opening of the bottle, jaewon stiffens. he’s in his own room and his father in the other but he H A S to go back through there. he doesn’t know how long he stands for but he heads through seeing the bottles that have been placed on the floor near the couch and the one that’s already almost finished in his hand “ what are you doing ? “ jaewon asks,, his voice was supposed to come out quiet but it doesn’t. there’s a slight frantic tone to his words and his father looks over at him. “ having a drink what does it look like ? “ he asks and he holds one up and out to the younger. “ no. “ he breathes shaking his head. because that’s the last thing he wants to do right now.

“ take the beer, jaewon. “ his voice is stern, eyes hardening as he stares and jaewon swallows hard and begins shaking his head. “ i don’t want it. “ the boy says and his chest constricts when the man stands up thoughts going everywhere almost immediately. “ don’t be a brat. “ he presses the bottom of the bottle to jaewon’s chest who just stares at him,, un moving and unwilling to take the bottle. it’s pressed just that bit harder against him and he almost flinches but he manages to keep his expression the same. “ i have a test to do tomorrow and studying to do. i can’t drink. “ that was a lie but he didn’t like drinking often. his father being the main cause of that. his eyes refuse to move,, he can’t think straight let alone B L I N K,, the man before him rolls his eyes and stops adding pressure onto the boy’s chest and when the man turns,, jaewon lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding in.

“ always about studying isn’t it ? “ his father asks and jaewon,, in silence moves slowly closer to the door. “ studying isn’t everything. “ it freezes jaewon in his spot and he opens his mouth as if he were to talk because what a contradiction to a statement made by the same man ten years ago. ( you need to study hard,, jaewon. studying is everything. ) then again looking back now jaewon’s convinced it was his way of getting rid of the ‘ little brat ‘ so he didn’t need to be paid attention too. the thoughts in general make jaewon’s temper rise and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin and before he can stop himself his mouth opens and he finally speaks. “ it is to me. “ he snaps back voice laced with venom as he spits it out. which is his first mistake because before the man can even sit back down he’s stopped halfway.

jaewon’s gaze falls quickly because the S I L E N C E is deafening and it’s making him feel uneasy. his throat clenches and he feels the spray of liquid before anything else has processed he’s jamp out of the way of the bottle hitting the side of the wall. it sprayed everywhere and the glass shattered. his chest heaves and he looks from the shattered glass with wide eyes back to his father who’s glaring at him. “ you should clean that up. “ is all he says as he sits back down on the couch,, the reaction wasnt one he was expecting yet its not the first time jaewon has to deal with bottles being thrown. his eyes tear up,, because things had been good these last few days and now . . . his thoughts trail off stands motionless for a moment before he turns,, he’s not cleaning up,, not while he’s in the same room so he turns and he rushes out to the front door because being in there is suffocating right now.

jaewon closes the front door his back pressing to it,, his chest heaves and he hits it a few times trying to regain control of his breathing. he couldn’t go back in there,, he just couldn’t do it. yet it was H I S apartment,, jaewon couldn’t. he swallows hard and pushes the hair away from his face and he takes a few deep breaths. he pulls out his phone only to see that it’s dead and he frowns to himself and moves to sit on the stairs near the door his arms crossed around his knees while he’s tucked them against his chest his chin resting on top of them. it’s then he realises just how cold it is his skin beginning to numb with the cold air,, without a hoodie or a jacket he’d end up with a cold or a fever but he didn’t care.

he’d rather freeze to death than go back in.

#self para #1 #tw ; mentions of alcohol tw; severe daddy issues #tw ; violence #ish?#tw ; slight mentions of abuse #first done it's no good #but i am on medication for the flu so lmAOoooo

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elizaviento · 6 years ago

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Assimilation (part 22/23)

Note: Friendly warning (and light spoiler) that the majority of this chapter mentions and focuses on abortion. Also, ANGST galore.

NSFW lite -- 2700 words

(FYI: Additional chapters of Assimilation can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog description. Or, you can click the #assimilation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

“What am I going to do?” I moaned. Rick had forced more of the cool, tingly liquid down my throat and now that I had regained a grip on my faculties – if only temporarily – I was full on panicking.

“We – w-w-we have two options,” Rick began.

“What do you mean we?!” I screamed, cutting him off. Full on panicking, I was indeed. “There’s no WE, Rick! I’M the one carrying a human/alien hybrid!”

“The fuck – the hell there isn’t!” he shouted back. He slammed the bottle of booze he’d been drinking from down on the control panel and growled in frustration, ripping his hands through his disheveled hair. “I – I got you in this mess! None of this – t-t-this wouldn’t have happened if I – if Unity hadn’t – ARGH!” He picked up the bottle and threw it against the wall containing the empty shackles, spraying glass and alcohol everywhere. I suddenly realized by his outburst the guilt he must be harboring over my precarious position and softened my tone, attempting to calm him. “Okay. What are our options?” I asked, running a hand through my hair while avoiding his hard stare.

“We – you get rid of it. Or you die.”

Choosing not to address either equally horrific option just yet, I asked, “How did you even know? How did you find out?”

“Yesterday morning,” he replied, plopping down on the stool next to the control station. He scrubbed his hands over his face and yawned. Had he not slept since then? “I – uh – I could tell something was off – wasn’t normal with you biologically.” I just lay back on the table to stare at the ceiling, waiting for him to go on. “When – w-w-when I finger fucked you, there was more – uh – mucus. Your temperature was slightly elevated. And you – uh – y-you tasted different.”

“You mean, I tasted pregnant?” I asked with a strangled laugh.

“Exactly,” he confirmed. “Your tits looked a little bigger, too.”

“But, none of this makes any sense, Rick. It’s only been a week.”

“Gestation for the species of alien Unity assimilated is less than – than half of human gestation,” he replied. “Which means gestation of a – uh – a human hybrid could be anywhere between twenty to twenty-five weeks. Which also means that the fetus – parasite will consume more of your body’s resources in a shorter amount – period of time. You won’t be able to keep up. Hence, the death option.”

“How do you know this?” I asked, amazed.

“I did – conducted some experiments.”

I rose back up to a sitting position, pinching my brow. He was staring at his hands, absently picking at the fabric of his slacks. “What type of experiments?”

“Does it matter?” he countered with a groan.

“It matters to me, yes,” I replied, trying my best to keep the underlying feeling of panic under control.

“I took some – uh – extracted some of your DNA and made a clone,” he began, finally looking at me. His expression was pained, but he continued. “Then I – I tracked Unity down to – t-t-to get information on the – uh – the reproductive cycles and a semen sample from the alien species.”

Other than feeling shocked that he’d cloned me without my knowledge or consent, I felt like a complete asshole. He hadn’t gone chasing after Unity to try to reconcile. He was trying to save my life. How hard must it have been to face Unity again after what it had done to him – to the both of us?

“Is that why you took my underwear? To get my DNA?”

“What – no!” he said, laughing unexpectedly. “Baby, I-I-I took those to keep for when I’m jerkin’ off.” He laughed again, harder than before, and ran a hand down his face. “The hair – y-your hair from the goggles. I took it from the trash when you weren’t looking – before I left.”

“So, what did you find out? From impregnating my clone?” Now it was my turn to laugh. This was utterly absurd.

“Like I said – you – uh – get rid of it or you die. There’s no other option.”

“Are you sure? Because –”

“Yes – yes I’m sure!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands and standing from the stool so forcefully that it flew behind him to bang off the control panel. “I conducted the experiment half a dozen times! You – you think it’s bad now?! Give it – g-give it a couple more weeks – a month! You w-w-won’t be able to – you’ll become a fuckin’ vegetable when that thing sucks every – everything from you – destroys all your organs!”

I sat there staring at him, dumbfounded. It was hard to imagine a species so humanoid in appearance would be so aggressive during gestation. And, had he said he conducted the experiment six times? He’d cloned and impregnated six of me?

“And – and that’s only my best calculation since I obviously had to speed up the process significantly!” He was pacing the room again, ripping his hands through his hair so hard it had to be painful. I had never seen Rick so upset and it was beginning to frighten me.

“So, you really don’t know how long until it kills me?” I asked, the feeling of nausea coming back with a vengeance.

“That – t-that’s why I told you to come – meet me here!” He suddenly halted his pacing and turned toward me, narrowing his eyes. “Why – uh – why didn’t you answer me?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone. “Why the fuck were you with that dipshit?”

I just continued to stare at him, unable to speak. He’d caught me red handed and only now realized it. He was so consumed with saving my life that it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask these questions until just now. I was such a piece of shit.

“Morty told me you were with Unity,” I offered, already hating myself before the words left my mouth. He just continued to stare at me, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing, Rick?! What was I supposed to think when Morty shows up at 2:00 am telling me that you spent all day tracking Unity down, left him on your ship for hours and then just dropped him off to go back?!” I felt tears pooling in my eyes and covered them with my hands.

“Look, I know I-I-I’m not the most trustworthy – reliable guy, but what would – haven’t I – w-w-why would you think – fuck!” he spat, no doubt frustrated that his mouth couldn’t keep up with the mile a minute pace of his brain.

I felt like my heart was being ripped to shreds as I watched him resume pacing. I wanted to reach for him and pull him into my chest and keep him there. I wanted for this thing between us to make some kind of sense; for it to somehow be possible. But, how could it? How could I ever explain this to Beth and Jerry and Summer and Morty? How could Beth not absolutely hate me from the moment she knew until the day she died? And, most importantly, how could someone as brilliant as Rick ever be happy with someone as painfully average as me? He couldn’t. Even if everything worked out perfectly, sooner or later he would get bored with me. Sooner or later, he would walk away.

And, suddenly, the punchline to the cosmic joke became all too clear. I could have Rick for a time in an infinite number of realities, but I’d never be able to keep him. The break-up I had witnessed in D-79 was destined to play out someway – somehow, no matter what. Maybe being assimilated and impregnated by a hive mind was just a means to an end in this reality – my reality.

“This is never going to work,” I concluded, removing my hands from my face to screw them into the skirt of my dress. I had stopped trying to hide the tears. What was the point?

Rick’s voice softened slightly as he approached me. “Yes it will. I just – j-just let me take care of it. I’ll take care of it.” He gently wrapped his hands around mine and carefully untangled them from the fabric of my dress. He didn’t understand.

“No, Rick.” I avoided his gaze and pulled my hands from his. “I mean… THIS.”

When I finally looked up at him, he was looming over me with an unreadable expression. Then, he pinched his brow and shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, fishing around for something.

“There – there’s no time for this now,” he said dismissively, producing a syringe. The all consuming panic bubbled within me once again and I scooted away from him on the table, wrapping my arms around my torso.

“Wait – no! What are you doing?!” I screeched.

“If – if you don’t get – have an abortion, RIGHT NOW, you’ll – you’re gonna die. Do you wanna die?” His voice had taken on an eerily calm quality that chilled me to the bone. And, the word ‘abortion’ thrusted me into the here and now of my situation. I didn’t want to die.

“No,” I answered.

“Then just – just lay back and I’ll take care of it.”

He’d take care of it.

Without further objection, I lay back on the exam table and allowed him to unfurl my arm. I felt the prick of the needle and the dull ache of the solution as it entered my bloodstream. I felt my eyelids and limbs grow heavy. I felt my consciousness drift. And, then – darkness.

He’d take care of it.

----------

When I awoke, slightly groggy with the feeling of cotton stuffed in my mouth, it took me a moment to recognize my surroundings. I was still in the bunker under the garage, still on the exam table. I quickly took stock of my body, focusing my concentration on my abdomen and between my legs. There was no pain but I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a blissful illusion of pain killers.

“Hey – hey there, Chicken.” The sound of his voice made me bolt up in shock. He was sitting on the stool, next to the control station. “Ha! She lives!” he mocked, upon seeing my reaction.

Without needing to ask, he handed me a glass of ice water which I greedily gulped down so fast it gave me a brain freeze. Groaning and holding my temples, I felt a hand settle between my shoulder blades.

“I’m assuming everything went okay?” I inquired, my voice croaky. Looking down my body, there was no evidence to the contrary. In fact, I looked and felt completely normal, minus the substitution of my blue dress for what appeared to be a ratty hospital gown.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered. I had the sick inclination to ask where it was — what he’d done with it — but settled on a deep sigh of relief.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked, having no sense of time.

“Not long. A couple hours, maybe. It was quick.”

I nodded, words escaping me.

“You – uh – you’re hormones may be outta whack for a little while,” he explained, removing his hand from between my shoulders. “And – and, you were right. This – uh – this isn’t gonna work.”

His words were like an ice pick plunged deep within my heart but, again, I only nodded. Here it was. He had come to the logical conclusion, as I had predicted, and I couldn’t fault him for it.

“Is there anything else I need to know? About taking care of myself, I mean.”

“No. I – I took care of everything. It’s like it never happened.”

Right. Never happened.

“Thank you, Rick,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the table in preparation to stand.

My head still felt thick and groggy, so Rick helped me from the table and opened a portal leading to my room. I stepped through holding my dress, shoes, and purse – alone. I pulled my phone from my purse and tapped out a quick apology to Davin before tossing it on the bed to dress in a pair of pajamas. While sitting on the foot of the trundle bed, I mentally readied myself to enter the living room and lie to Beth.

“Hey, kiddo.” Morty looked up and back at me from the couch. “Where’s your mom?”

“She got called in,” he replied, focusing attention back to his show. “Something about a – a glue factory bust and the horses they found need emergency hoof transplant surgery – or whatever.” I smirked at his cavalier response and circled the couch to sit next to him. “How – how was your date?” he asked with a tone in his voice that seemed accusatory.

“Not great. I got sick and called Rick to portal me home. Puke ev-ery-where!” I said, fanning my hands in the air for dramatic effect. And, just as I was internally congratulating myself on keeping my shit together —

“I – uh – I thought Rick was still in space. With Unity,” Morty countered, peering at me with narrowed eyes.

Well, fuck.

“Umm…” I floundered. But, he just turned back to the television as if nothing was amiss.

----------

Three weeks later, Mr. Benson had fully moved out of my house and I had finally wrapped up Trevor’s project. My body was functioning normally – like nothing had ever happened – and I was settling back into my life. I saw Rick here and there for moments at a time. But, he had settled back into his life, dragging Morty (and occasionally Summer) across the multiverse without objection from Beth or Jerry now that it was summer vacation. We only spoke to each other when absolutely necessary and never made eye contact. Instead, I spent the majority of my time renovating my house, shaping it into something that was my own now that I couldn’t share it with Chris. I did pull his belongings from the attic, though. I went through each photo, scrap of paper, piece of clothing, each and every memento and cried. I mourned for him the way I should have three years prior and it fucking sucked.

The night my house was finally finished and I moved the last bit of my things from Beth and Jerry’s, I made an elaborate dinner for the family as a thank you. At the end of the evening, Rick lingered as the rest were leaving.

“Yeah, Sweetie. I – uh – I’m just gonna finish my drink first,” he lied to Beth as she was walking out the door. Then, he carried me to my bed and fucked me within an inch of my life. I’d lost count of how many times he made me cum as he growled filth and praise in my ear.

“Fuck, baby – ohh god – y-y-you like that dick, huh? My beautiful girl, cum for me. Cum on Daddy’s cock again, sweetheart. Thaaat’s it. That’s my good girl – so perfect.”

Afterward, he apologized and left me a sweaty, trembling mess. I didn’t see or even catch a glimpse of him again for nearly a month. But, I would still dream of him at night – still hear his gruff voice echo in my subconscious in my hazy memories of assimilation or in my long tucked away memories of our past. He was always there, even if I was now just one of his many afterthoughts.

And, time continued to march on, as it does. I went back to work at my old firm, falling into a weekday routine that was familiar and safe. On the weekends, I went out on more dates. I reconnected with old friends and made a conscious effort to insert myself into society. I taught myself to play the violin. I went back to the biker bar and started a speed chess hustling ring with Toby, becoming feared and respected among the hardest bikers in the county. I was living again and it was good.

Until —

To be continued…

P.S. Extra special thanks to @porkchop-ao3 for lending a fresh perspective to help me work through a frustrating mental block.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez #fanfiction #assimilation #sister smith series

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