#the night shift abductor x reader

[skmhlml]

Night shift Abductor x reader.

🥩 what’s worse the a cultist cannibal? A southern cultist cannibal. Take it from someone born and raised in peach Georgia- this man is crazy.

🥩 Despite his ominous and frightening exterior he doesn’t talk much, which often leads you (his victim) to wonder what’s gonna happen as the days protracted.

🥩 since he isn’t good with words, he shows his affection through actions. “Small” gestures like leaving food for you (possibly human), providing a blanket when you’re cold (since you're in a cage), bringing you a gift AKA a full still beating human heart, or even trying to keep the house cleaner for your comfort.

🥩 He enjoys sitting in silence with you, finding a strange comfort in your presence. His idea of love is twisted. He believes that causing you pain or fear is a way to show his devotion, thinking that by breaking you down, he can rebuild you to be entirely his.

🥩 develops habits like checking the locks multiple times or creating elaborate traps around the house (fucking bear traps), all in an effort to ensure “your safety”. This can sometimes be overbearing

🥩 He keeps detailed notes about your habits, preferences, and routines, ensuring he knows everything about you. His need to control and monitor you can be suffocating.

🥩 keeping you in a cage all day can be suffocating. But since it's too risky to let you outside he lets you watch the victims in backward under his supervision, the screaming for help coming from them isn't wonderful at least breathing normal clean air is.

🥩 He manipulates you psychologically, making you doubt your memories and sense of reality. This gaslighting ensures you remain compliant and reliant on him for guidance and support. Just shushing you when you get too rowdy.

🥩 If you disobey or try to escape, he doesn’t hesitate to punish you. These punishments can range from locking you in a dark room to more severe physical harm, all justified in his mind as necessary to keep you safe. If it happens a bit to often he will snap and cut off the limb.

🥩 He installs hidden cameras and microphones throughout the house to monitor your every move. Privacy becomes a distant memory, as he’s always watching, ensuring you don’t try to leave or contact the outside world.

🥩 He has dark, ritualistic behaviors that he forces you to participate in. These can be terrifying and disturbing, meant to bond you to him through shared trauma and fear. Or guiding you on how to chop up humans.

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, kidnapping/abduction, obsessive behaviors, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: The 141 team’s fear hardens into fierce determination. The team splits up, scouring the city with relentless focus, driven by a shared promise to bring you back. The hunt is on, and this time, they’re not leaving without you.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9 Read Part 10

Part 5: The Rescue Mission

The atmosphere in the 141’s HQ had shifted—what had started as worry had now solidified into something colder, sharper. Determination hummed in the air, electrifying the space where minutes earlier, dread had pooled in the silence. Ghost stood at the center of it, his masked face tilted down toward the sketches spread out on the table in front of him. The faint glow of the overhead light caught the edges of the rough lines, casting shadows across the grainy paper.

The sketches were crude, but they didn’t need to be perfect. They were enough. Enough to set Ghost’s mind racing back to the bar, to that night—those fleeting glimpses of a figure slipping in and out of the crowd like a phantom. He remembered the man now. The way he lurked on the fringes, his eyes always flickering in your direction, as if waiting for the right moment to strike. And Ghost had dismissed it, chalking it up to the usual riffraff that crowded the place. But now, seeing those sketches, the face twisted in his memory like a knife.

“This is him,” Ghost said, his voice low, gravelly with the weight of what they’d discovered. He jabbed a finger down at the sketch, his eyes narrowing. “I remember seeing him at the bar. He was always there when they were. Watching.”

The room tensed further as the others leaned in. Soap, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped, eyes flicking from the sketch to Ghost. “That bastard’s got to be on the streets somewhere. We can’t sit here, letting him slip through our fingers.”

Ghost nodded. The urgency was palpable. You were out there somewhere, alone, in the hands of a man whose face had been nothing more than a shadow in the background until now. He wouldn’t let that mistake happen again. “We need to hit the streets. We can’t ignore this. Not anymore.”

Soap didn’t need to be told twice. “Right then, let’s move.” His usual humor was absent, replaced by a hardened focus. This wasn’t just a mission—it was personal now. You were one of their own, civilian or not, and every second wasted was a second too long.

Gaz was already slipping on his jacket, his movements quick, efficient. His eyes met Ghost’s with an unspoken agreement: they weren’t coming back empty-handed. Price, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a small nod, already coordinating their moves in his head. He wasn’t the type to rush into action blindly, but there was a steel in his gaze that said he was ready to burn the city down if it meant getting you back.

“Soap, you and Gaz take the east side. I’ll cover the west,” Price said, pushing off the wall. “We’ll meet back here in four hours with whatever we’ve got. Ghost, you keep your eyes on the comms. Anything pops up, we need to know immediately.”

Ghost didn’t argue. Someone needed to keep the operation under control, and there was no one better suited than him. His eyes scanned the maps pinned to the walls, marking potential hotspots where the abductor might hide, places where people went unnoticed. “I’ll stay in touch with the local contacts. We’re not leaving any stone unturned.”

As the team filed out, the weight of the mission pressed down on them. The night outside was heavy with fog, the city lights blurring in the distance. Soap and Gaz moved swiftly, their boots barely making a sound as they hit the streets. Every corner, every alley, every face in the crowd became a potential lead. Gaz’s sharp eyes swept the surroundings, taking in the smallest details, while Soap’s mind churned with thoughts of you, alone and in danger.

Their world, once filled with drinks and shared laughs, now felt eerily quiet. The streets that had once been familiar now felt hostile, as if the city itself was conspiring to keep you hidden. Soap's knuckles tightened around the grip of his weapon, his jaw clenched. “We’ll find ‘em,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “We’ve got to.”

Meanwhile, Price moved with calculated precision through his section of the city. His years of experience sharpened his instincts as he navigated the urban sprawl. He kept his focus on the task, but in the back of his mind, reality gnawed at him: time was running out. You could be anywhere, and the man who took you—this Devon—wasn’t going to make it easy.

Back at HQ, Ghost sat alone, the hum of the comms the only sound in the room. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the table as he monitored the team's progress, his eyes never straying from the maps or the live updates from local informants. Every piece of intel mattered now, no matter how small. He couldn’t shake the image of your captor’s face from his mind, couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d seen him before and done nothing.

But guilt wouldn’t help now. Only action would.

The search was relentless. Soap and Gaz questioned everyone they came across—bartenders, street vendors, anyone who might’ve seen something. Their descriptions were vague, but the sketch of the man with sunken eyes and a dark coat was enough to turn heads. People remembered a guy like that, especially the way he moved in and out of the crowd like a predator.

Hours passed in a blur of frustration and dead ends, but none of them wavered. The team was driven by something far deeper than duty now—an unspoken promise that they wouldn’t leave you behind. Not this time.

And as Ghost sat in the dimly lit HQ, staring down at the map in front of him, a message flickered across the screen. A contact from a nearby neighborhood. A sighting. A lead. His hand moved fast, fingers tapping out commands to alert the team.

The hunt was on. And this time, they were getting you back.

Read Part 6

Coming soon in Part 6, the team stalks through the shadows, closing in on a man whose twisted obsession had gone too far. This was no ordinary rescue. The hunter would become the hunted, and justice would be delivered, swift and unforgiving.

We're halfway through the adventure! Will the team find you in time?

Tag List:

@strawberryrnilk

@rafaelacallinybbay

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list lovely!

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖉𝖚𝖘𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖆𝖜𝖓

mike schmidt x gender neutral reader

Summary: A one shot that narrates many different things that happens during a long day between Mike and reader.

Warnings: gender neutral reader. No pronouns used towards reader. Angst. Fluff. allusion to smut. No actual smut. Flirting. Established relationship. Panic attack. Happy ending.

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Sorry for bad grammar. Sorry if it's cringe. Enjoy :)

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Mike stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. Beside him, you laid still, chest rising and falling rhythmically. You were tangled in each other's arms, cocooned in the soft warmth of your shared bed.

Mike blinked away the last remnants of sleep, his gaze landing on your peaceful face. Your hair was tousled, and a faint smile curved your lips. He couldn't help but smile back. The both of you had been through so much together—late-night conversations, laughter, tears, and stolen kisses—and yet, every morning felt like a new beginning.

He shifted closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open. The first thing you saw was Mike, and your smile widened. "Good morning, did you sleep?" you whispered, your voice still thick with sleep.

The nightmares had plagued him ever since the kidnapping of his little brother. The faceless abductor, Garret's terrified eyes, the guilt—it all came rushing back in the dead of night. He'd wake up drenched in sweat, unable to breathe, feeling like he was failing his brother all over again.

You stayed up with him during the nights when the nightmares were too much. You helped him when he woke up screaming, tears streaming down his face.

"Morning," Mike replied, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Did you sleep well?"

You stretched, your limbs intertwining with his. "Like a baby," you said. "Your presence is my best lullaby."

He chuckled, tracing lazy circles on your back. "I could say the same about you." The room was filled with the soft rustle of sheets as you shifted, getting comfortable. Outside, birds chirped, and the distant hum of traffic reminded you two that the world was waking up too.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, your eyes curious. "What time is it?"

Mike glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Early," he said. "But who needs time when we have this moment?"

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips were warm and inviting, and Mike lost himself in your taste. You kissed slowly, savoring each other, as if you had all the time in the world.

And you really wished you did.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your head on his chest. "I love mornings like this," you murmured. "Just us, no rush, no worries."

Last night he didn’t have to work at the pizzeria and you grasped the opportunity to make up for lost time.

Mike mumbled something incoherent that you almost certainly assumed was a sign of him agreeing with you.

It was your little bubble, where everything else fades away.

You lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, while you shared stories about the fragments of a dream you had tonight and was lucky enough to remember.

"What's on your agenda?" Mike asked.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, let's see. Waking up Abby, breakfast , followed by cuddles, and then maybe pretending to be sick so I don’t have to leave for work."

"Sounds perfect," Mike said. "But what if I add a twist?"

Your eyes sparkled. "What kind of twist?"

He gently rolled you onto your back, hovering slightly above you, his beloved. "Tonight, I had a wonderful dream that I so dearly wish to recreate."

Your smile turned into a subtle smirk, despite the fatigue that gripped you from waking up just minutes ago. You raised an eyebrow, curious. "A dream? Odd, it felt so vivid to me."

"Yes, it was so splendid it seemed impossible to be real."

You laughed, pulling him down for another kiss. Your lips met, hungry and passionate, as if you were making up for all the kisses you hadn't shared during the night while you held each other as if there was no other person in the world.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

You sit at the kitchen table, cradling a warm mug of coffee in your hands. The sun spills through the window, casting a gentle glow on the checkered tablecloth. Across from you, Mike sips his own coffee, his eyes still heavy with sleep. It’s one of those quiet, comfortable moments—the kind that make mornings bearable.

Abby, Mike’s adorable sister, perched on a stool, her pigtails bouncing as she swung her legs.

“You slept well?” You asked while taking a small sip from your cup, tilting your head to the side when you saw the expression on her face.

Abby squinted her eyes, her little forehead wrinkling in concentration. “You know what?” she said, her voice serious. “Your bed creaks a lot at night.”

Mike choked on his coffee, and your coffee goes down the wrong pipe, and you cough, sputtering. You and Mike exchanged wide-eyed glances, both of your faces turning various shades of crimson. The previous night’s activities had indeed been...energetic.

“Uh, Abby,” Mike stammered, “it’s just an old bed. You know, wood settling and all that.”

Abby shook her head, her eyes wide with innocence. “But I sometimes hear it and other times no! You think that a new bed for you two will work?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh.

Mike leaned closer to you, whispering, “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

You grinned. “Big trouble. The mattress we have is too comfortable to loose”

“Abby,” Mike said, leaning toward her, “you’re right. We’ve been having epic pillow fights at night.”

“Pillow fights?” Abby’s eyes sparkled. “Really?” She asked towards you.

“Oh, ehm... yeah” you stammered before recovering. “Mike snores too loudly and I use a pillow to stop him”

Abby claps her hands, her laughter bubbling forth like a mountain spring. Your heart swells; this is parenthood at its finest— the shared conspiracies towards the same member of the family.

Mike glares at you, but his lips twitch. He’s caught between irritation and affection.

Abby gets out of her chair and starts jumping out of excitement. “Can I join your pillow fight club?”

“Of course!” You said. “But only if you promise not to tell anyone about our secret pillow fights.”

Abby put her tiny hand over her heart. “Cross my heart! But seriously, you should get a new mattress.”

You and Mike burst into laughter, your embarrassment now completely forgotten. Abby’s innocence was a balm for your souls.

As you all finished breakfast, Abby skipped off to draw, leaving the two of you alone.

You leaned across the table, your fingers brushing.

“You know,” you whispered, “maybe tomorrow we could check the bed’ slats. The noises might come from them”

Mike grinned. “Isn’t it romantic to you? Our bed serenading us through the night.

You cheeks tainted in red. “Mike, focus! We need a solution. How about we flip the mattress? Maybe it’s just grumpy from being on the same side for years.”

“Fine, let’s flip the mattress. And while we’re at it, we can tighten the screws. But then we’ll have to test to make sure it doesn’t make any more noises” Mike said while nuzzling your neck.

“Deal,” you giggled from the tickled caused by his stubble.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

The sun, in the late afternoon, casts its golden rays through the window of the house. The rooms are bathed in a warm, honey-colored glow. Dust particles float lazily in the air, illuminated by the sunbeams. The light dances across the floor, creating elongated rectangles that stretch from the window to the opposite wall.

A shame you were not capable of enjoying the beautiful display as you embarked on a quest to find your elusive phone. You tiptoed into the room you shared with Mike, who was busy lifting weights from his bench press. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he strained against the iron. He was a security guard after all, he should at least maintain himself in form, even if no one would probably enter that creepy and abandoned place he works at.

Your eyes scanned the room, but the phone remained elusive.

“Hey, Mike,” You called out, feigning innocence. “Have you seen my phone? It’s playing hide-and-seek.”

Mike paused mid-lift, wiping his brow. His eyes narrowed playfully. “Your phone? Nah, it’s probably hiding from you, considering how much you use it”

“You know, Mike,” You said, “you’re not exactly intimidating when you’re always this tired.”

Mike chuckled, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Yeah, well,” he panted, “I’m going for the ‘approachable’ vibe.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Approachable? More like ‘about-to-collapse’.”

Mike set the barbell back on the rack and wiped his face with a towel. “You think I’m weak?”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

You groaned in annoyance as you kept searching for your phone in the room. You needed to answer to some important stuff for work.

Maybe it fell down from your wardrobe? You turned around and bent down on your knees, looking under the creaky bed and finally spotting your phone under it.

A sigh of relief left your lips. Your arm stretched out under the bed, fingers grazing the cool wooden floorboards. Your phone lay just out of reach, teasing you with its silent screen.

“Come on,” You muttered, wiggling your fingers. “Just a little more.”

But just as your fingertips brushed the edge of the phone a pair of arms was wrapped around your waist, and lifted you off the ground.

You yelped in surprise, legs kicking in the air as Mike scooped you up in his arms, bridal style “Mike! What the—”

Your heart races, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. The warmth from his body envelops you, his scent—part musk, part fresh air—fills the room and you cling to him instinctively as you wrap your arms around Mike’s neck.

Your fingers find their way to the back of his neck, where you feel the tension in his muscles. The room spins around you, and you laugh— a genuine, unguarded sound— as he carries you toward the window.

“See?” Mike grunted, pretending not to strain. “Not weak at all.”

His strength surprised you; he might look fatigued, but those biceps were no joke.

"Mike" you protest playfully, "what are you doing?"

He grins down at you, his eyes sparkling. "Taking you to see the sunset," he says, his voice low and intimate.

The warmth of his skin seeps through your shirt as he steps closer to the window, the fading sunlight bathes you both. Despite being so simple, the garden outside looks beautiful under the sunlight.

"Look," he murmurs, tilting your chin upward. The sun kisses the horizon, casting a golden glow on your faces. "Isn't it beautiful?"

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from the view. But it's not just the sunset that steals your breath—it's the way Mike looks at you, as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. The warmth of his love surrounds you, and you know that this memory will stay with you forever.

And in that moment you forget about everything except the warmth of Mike’s arms and the love in his eyes. Bridal style or not, your exactly where you want to be—held close, suspended in love, and ready to face the sunset together.

Abby had heard the laughter from the hallway. She burst into the room, eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s going on here?”

Mike grinned, showing you like a trophy obtained with so much hard work and explaining to her how you told him he is weak.

With you still in his arms, Mike walked closer to the bed from where you previously were. His legs trembled slightly, but he held on. You giggled, and Abby skipped alongside you two, cheering like you all were in a parade.

“Mike,” Abby said, eyes wide, “can you lift me too?”

Mike chuckled. “Give me a second”

Mike gently sets you down. You both caught your breath, laughing and feeling the warmth of shared moments.

Abby joined in and you watched with a grin as Mike lifted her up from the floor, making her laugh joyfully.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

The moon hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the plain and simple field. The abandoned playground stood like a relic from another time—a place where laughter once echoed, but now only silence prevailed.

Mike patrolled the rusted arcade games and cracked tables, his flashlight cutting through the darkness. His duty was to protect this forgotten place, even though he couldn't shake the feeling that something watched him from the shadows.

You had always been intrigued by the mysterious playground. You’ve heard stories—the kind whispered around campfires—about children who vanished here, leaving behind only their laughter and half-buried memories.

Tonight, unable to sleep, you decided to pay Mike a surprise visit. Abby was tucked safely in bed.

You park your car in the gravel lot, the crunch under your tires sounding unusually loud in the still night. The air is cool, tinged with the scent of rain that hasn't yet fallen. Ahead, the silhouette of the abandoned pizzeria looms, its windows dark.

Navigating through the shadows, you feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. Mike's job as a security guard here always seemed eerie to you, surrounded by empty halls and the echoes of machinery long silenced. But tonight, you're here to bring a little warmth to his solitary shift.

You enter the building, your footsteps echoing off the concrete. The stairwell is dimly lit, the walls tagged with graffiti.

Your footsteps crunched on the gravel path as you approached the main hall. The moonlight revealed twisted shapes—a carousel frozen mid-spin. Those animatronics behind the tents looked anything but friendly. The air smelled of damp earth and nostalgia, and you shivered despite the mild night.

Just as you stepped onto the cracked pavement, a beam of light swept across your path. Mike emerged from the shadows, his security uniform slightly disheveled and his eyes widened in surprise. His flashlight illuminated your face, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, despite the visible tiredness on his face

"What brings you here?" Mike said. His voice was a low murmur, gravelly and worn. Each syllable seemed to emerge from the depths of exhaustion, like a shipwreck survivor gasping for air.

You feigned innocence. "Oh, you know, just thought I'd drop by. Abby's asleep, Max is watching her and I couldn't resist exploring this creepy place."

Mike chuckled, a sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. "Exploring, huh? You're brave, but this is a private property, you should not be here”

You stepped closer, your breath mingling in the chilly air. "And what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Security Guard? Are you gonna call the police for an harmless intruder?"

“I'm willing to make an exception for you. Harmless you said? let’s see those hands. Empty pockets, please.”

You show him your empty hands “Clean as a whistle. Are you going to frisk me?”

Mike leans in, his voice low “I might have to. Strictly professional, of course. Turn around, hands against the wall."

Your heart started pounding while you played along, that deep voice that he made with a hint of tiredness was hot

You turned, placing your palms flat against the cool brick wall. Mike steps behind you, his breath warm against your neck.

"Spread your legs a little wider. We wouldn't want anything slipping past my expert frisking skills." He said, voice still low.

You stifled a nervous giggle, your pulse racing. Mike's hands move—firm, yet gentle—up your sides, skimming the edges of your coat.

"I assure you, I'm clean. No hidden weapons, no secret plans." Your voice was now trembling.

You can feel Mike leaning in closer, lips brushing your ear "Good. But I have to be thorough. Safety first, you know."

His hands continue their exploration, tracing the curve of your hips, then sliding down to your thighs. Your skin tingles, and you wonder if Mike can hear your heart pounding.

"Thorough is...appreciated." Your voice is barely audible now.

Mike’s fingers dip into your coat pockets, checking for imaginary things. His touch sends shivers down your spine.

"All clear. But there's one more area I need to inspect." He whispered

He steps closer, pressing against you, and your breath hitches. His lips brush your cheek, teasing.

"Your heart. It's racing. Is that normal during a routine frisk?" He whispered in a husky voice.

Before you can respond, Mike turns you around, his eyes searching yours. The playful game fades, replaced by something more intense.

"You're trouble. But I think I like it." His hand slid down to the flashlight's switch, turning it off. Darkness enveloped you two.

And then, his lips meet yours. The kiss was both sweet and urgent. A kiss that tastes of adventure, stolen moments, and the promise of something beyond a simple game.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

Pushing the door open, Mike shows you the office he mainly works in, the bank of security monitors bright inside the dark room.

His tired face lights up with a smile as he sees you taking a seat to the chair next to his.

You spend the next hour talking, catching up, sharing a late snack you brought from home. Mike tries to focus on your stories, but his eyes begin to close, his head tilted forward slowly until he struggles to stay shiny and awake.

You suggest he get some rest. "I've got this," you assure him, motioning towards the monitors. "You need more sleep than I do."

Reluctantly, he agrees. He settles into a small cot in the corner of the room, his body visibly tense. "Just wake me if anything happens," he murmurs, his voice already slurring with exhaustion.

You nod, watching as he drifts off, the lines of his face softening. Quietly, you move to his chair, keeping an eye on the screens. The silence, the cameras showing nothing but abandoned spaces and those animatronics behind the tents.

It was normal for Mike to be so sleepy if every night here always plays out the same.

You could have sworn that the giant animatronic bear had moved its eyes towards the camera, but as soon as you blinked, he was no longer watching it.

Tiredness was having an effect on you too

An hour passes slowly. You jump slightly when Mike suddenly gasps, his breath ragged, his eyes wide and filled with the terror of the nightmare that's haunted him for years. Rushing to his side, you find him panting,

"It's okay, Mike, you're safe," you say softly, taking his hand. His grip is tight, almost painful.

"Garret... I saw Garret..." he chokes out, his voice ragged with fear and grief. You remember all too well the stories he's told you about his little brother, Garret, who was kidnapped years ago. It's a wound that never fully healed, one that haunts him in these vivid nightmares.

"Ssh, I'm here, Mike. You're not alone," you reassure him, stroking his hair as his breathing slowly calms. You've been through this many times over the years, yet each time feels just as heart-wrenching.

"I always think I could've saved him... If only I hadn’t been distracted," Mike confesses with tears streaming down his face.

“You did everything you could”, you remind him gently. “It’s not your fault”

"It's okay, it's okay, you're safe," you murmur, pulling him into your arms. His heart races against your chest as you hold him tightly, feeling his muscles tense with every shudder. These moments are heart-wrenching, yet after all these years, you know exactly what to do.

Mike clings to you, his breathing erratic, his grip tightens around you as if holding on for dear life.

"Focus on my voice, Mike," you continue, your tone steady and soothing. "Breathe with me. In... and out... In... and out." You guide him through the breathing exercises you've learned together, a routine that has become second nature on nights like these.

Gradually, his breaths become less shallow, the trembling subsides, and the grip of his fingers loosens around your arm. His face, buried in the crook of your neck, feels wet against your skin-tears, not uncommon on these long nights.

"You're doing great," you reassure him, brushing a hand through his hair, offering the comfort that words alone cannot. This touch, a simple gesture, often helps to anchor him back to the present, away from the nightmares.

Thank you," he says, his voice hoarse but sincere. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do anything without me," you reply, a small, tired smile crossing your lips. "I'm here, always."

He rests his head on your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart-a sound that seems to comfort him as much as your presence. You stay awake a little longer, ensuring he drifts back into a more peaceful sleep, watching over him in the quiet of the night.

As you finally feel his body yield to exhaustion and the steady rhythm of his breathing indicates he's asleep, you allow yourself a moment of rest. Love, you remind yourself, is both a refuge and a strength, in the quiet of the night and beyond

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

It was now morning. Soon it will be time to go back to Abby. Mike leaned against you, your fingers intertwined. "I don't know if I'll ever fully heal," he admitted. "But you make it bearable."

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "We'll take it one step at a time. Healing isn't linear, Mike. Some days will be harder than others, but we'll get through them together."

And so you did. Mike still woke up from nightmares, but you were there to help him, to remind him that he wasn't defined by his past.

As the days turned into weeks, Mike found himself laughing more, sleeping a little better. The shadows of the past didn't disappear, but they no longer consumed him. Your love was a lifeline, pulling him back from the abyss.

One night, as you lay tangled in each other's arms, Mike whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked.

"For being my light," he replied. "For helping me find my way out of the darkness."

And you smiled, your eyes filled with tenderness. "Always, Mike. Always."

[ilariyalavorowrites]

Stalking Me, Stalking You (CSI Nick Stokes) Part Four

Imagine: You never saw it coming, you never knew he was there until the moment he struck. For months, this individual had stalking you from the shadows, trying to find a way into your life. Never quite able to but in his mind, time was running out and soon enough you would be completely out of reach. This was the moment to act, to ‘rescue’ you and steal you away.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, hurt but eventual comfort. Suffering, lots of suffering, slow-moving plot, stalking, obsessive behaviour.

Pairings: Nick Stokes x Reader and Reader x OC (one-sided)

Word count: 4,535 words

Universe: CSI

Reader gender: Female

Part Four of ten

Tagged: @just-call-me-the-old-hag @horsedragonllama @space-helen @kneelforloki @flopiboni @maddy-villain @ilkkawhat

Previous / Next

As you stood at the bar, sighing after having lost sight of your friend for the third time. At least one of you was having a good time as you continued to nurse your first drink of the evening. With the thin red straw between your lips as your eyes flitted over the crowded dance floor, watching them dance to the beat of an unfamiliar song. However, your gaze was drawn like a moth to a flame to the sight of a familiar face as he made his way off the floor and over to the bar. You leaned back against the cold, hard surface of the marble bar top before placing your glass down upon the surface.

You could not help it as a smile graced your lips when his eyes found yours. It felt much like the start of a cheesy romance novel.  “Hey you, fancy bumping into you here tonight” Nick said loudly, trying his best to overcome the thumping of the drum and bass.  “I need to lose myself after that last shift. Dance the night away, looks like you've got a head start on me” You playfully teased, as he moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you.  This was one of the few times he had seen you out of your regular tailored suit and trousers. However, Nick hadn't expected to see you in a form-fitted short dress that seemed to kiss your knees each time it lightly brushed past.

It was a welcome sight indeed. A coy smile played on his lips as he leaned on the bar, his eyes leaving yours but a moment as he ordered his drink. Your gaze raked over his form, as you briefly let yourself get lost in your foolish crush as you relished in the proximity of his body to your own. Nick edged himself closer, with a hand raised to catch the attention of the bartender. His tight form-fitting t-shirt paired with black skinny jeans fitted the particular club scene to a tee as he relayed his order to the man behind the bar. All while a playful grin lingered upon his lips, as his gaze returned to meet yours.

As you stared into the mirror on the dresser, you could not help but notice him standing in the doorway. The reflection of your abductor. The man who claimed to be your salvation, to have rescued you from hell on earth, only to deliver you straight into the heart of the inferno.

“Darling, dinner is nearly ready and Mrs Branson has dished up all your favourites” His voice was calm but his words felt heavily practised as if he had spoken directly from a script. One that he held with a cast iron grip, one that changed at his beck and call.

“Oh, that’s oh so kind of her” You replied, knowing that the housekeeper doubling as a chef knew only what he had fed her. Tales of false lives lived, of a loving husband and his distant wife who had been away for many months at a time to care for her ailing mother. One that had peacefully passed on which summoned him to bring his beloved home. A passionate marriage built solely on falsehoods and outright lies. 

With one hand cradling the ever-growing bump hidden beneath the flowing fabric, you pushed yourself to your feet before waddling over to him, taking the crook of his arm. Memories of Nick were still fresh and at the forefront of your mind as you fiddled with the ring upon your left hand. 

One that did not belong to you, one that felt more like a ball and chain keeping you prisoner. A constant reminder that your freedom was not your own. The white gold band felt more like a lead weight than a wedding ring. This make-believe was all just an act, a live-action roleplay where you were cast as in the role of a lifetime, one that you were dying to play. A fact that he had harped on about for the last few nights, as you lay in bed inches away from him.

He would not dare touch you, not in your condition. A stray roaming hand caressing up your thighs was more than enough for now. To keep him content as he played the role of a lifetime that he longed for—the doting husband who worshipped at the feet of the pedestal where he placed his wife.

As you swayed and danced to the beat of an unfamiliar song, you were quickly drawn back into the moment Nick’s hand pulled you further into his welcoming embrace as you smoothly moved around the floor. There was nothing but the two of you in this moment as your head laid down upon his chest and you lost yourself to the rhythm.

Enjoying the closeness of how it felt to be pressed up against him. His hands rubbed up and down your back, it was pure ecstasy as you leaned into it, and your lips found his. Shock overtook your senses but you did not pull away, neither did he. The seconds ticked by, as your lips flowed effortlessly over his as the kiss heated up.

It had begun as a surprisingly soft kiss. Nick had been caught off guard from the moment that her lips had brushed his softly, delicate like the petals of a rose would kiss, would brush past barely there. To give him a taste of what could be, if he dared to take the plunge.

Oh, how he dared, dangling over the edge ready to drive in head first. Nick had never considered the possibility of a moment like this to occur. His lips were tentative at first but once the shock had passed then all bets were firmly off. There must have been signs but all of them had gone over his head as he pulled her closer, deeper into his embrace as they continued to sway around the floor.

Nick could not help but reflect upon that night, the first of many. As he stared down at the image displayed on the board opposite him. Each one of them had been burnt into memory but the last deeply disturbed him. It had been the one he saw into the worst of his nightmares of late. His failure to save her from this surmounting terror. An unknown adversity had chosen her for this most wicked of games but seemed to be unwinnable.

The memory of their first kiss had been in the heat of the moment but she had been the one to initiate it. To take that leap of faith and cross the line hovering between them. He had hesitated, contemplating the countless pointless reasons to stay in his lane. Do not try and see if he had been interpreting the signs incorrectly. Thankfully that hadn’t been the case.

The weight of her body against his was electric, as his lips slid effortlessly over hers. Nick’s mind was racing as it fogged up with images of what could come next. Racy, raunchy and most definitely delicious possibilities flooded through his mind but not tonight. He would have to push down those thoughts for now at least. Nick Stokes, categorically was a gentleman first and a player second. As he slowly pulled back, his breath quickened and his heart thumped harder than before. He found himself admiring her, whether it be reddening cheeks or the well-loved lips that he could not help but intensely stare at, wanting nothing more than another taste. A goofy smile played on his lips as the seconds ticked by. “Never thought you’d be interested in me that way Darlin’” He breathlessly spoke, each word drawn out as if it was drowning in smooth honey.

“Let me show again, I’ve wanted to do that for ages Nick. I like you more than I think I should” She called back, the words mixing in with the beat of the next song as she once again claimed his lips and kissed him deeply in the middle of the dance floor. Her lips eagerly mapped out the slopes and valley of his back. This heated exchange had been the first of many that night, they had never crossed that invisible line lingering firmly between them. Only kissing as if they were love-struck teens in between brief moments of conversations. It had been breathtaking to see this passionate side of her. At the end of the night, he had eagerly walked her back to her car. Smiling from ear to ear with his hand firmly entwined with hers. “Hey, I like to take you out to dinner or breakfast. Whatever comes first” He had rambled out as he stood there, still holding her hand.

“Like a date?” She had called back, there had been a hopeful glint in her eyes that he could hardly tear himself away from. “Yeah, a date if you want to of course”  It had been a painful few minutes before she had answered but he hadn’t needed to hear those words as the huge megawatt smile upon lips gave away the answer.

Nick remembered the first few seconds after they had parted, as he made his way over his own car. Still smiling as he began to think over the next step. This had not been how he had envisioned the night to go but here he was, with a date to plan for. With his colleague and friend, one who he had never thought saw him in any other light. He had seen past the service weapon and badge to see the strong-willed woman underneath.

Greg had been the one to crush hard, first with Sara then with her and any other woman who might give him the time of day. Nick had always been the player, the one to catch the girl's eye and take them out of the town before moving on. He had never found the right one. She was most definitely different.

He stood there, waiting for answers as a single thumbprint had been recovered from the photographic paper. Mandy had put a rush on it, it was a priority and needed to be compared to ones already in CODIS. He dared to hope for a match as it had been blow after blow. For now, it looked like they were making progress, they would wander haplessly in another dead end. The Texan needed a catch-a-break, to crack this case wide out. 

��Nick” The sound of his name being called was enough to bring him back down to reality and out of his daydreaming. He lifted his gaze to find the familiar sight of Mandy standing there in the doorway, with the report in hand but something was off. Whether that be in the way that she held herself, almost halfway out of the room. Her bespectacled gaze barely met his own. This was not the type of news that he was hoping for.

“Not in the system then” Nick spoke, sighing jumping the gun before the lab tech could get a word out.

“Actually it is but it’s linked to an Active Federal Investigation” Mandy interjected, knowing this was going to be the start of a world of frustration. Agents would soon be knocking at their door, wanting access to all the evidence that the Lab had collectively gathered. Descending upon them like a plague as they overtook the case and ripped it right out of their hands. 

Nick was not going to let that happen. “Thanks, Mandy,” He said as he took a look over the information for him. The thumbprint seemed to taunt him from the print, as he stared down at the word UNKNOWN MATCH almost daring it to burn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------You sat stiffly to the right of him, playing the role perfectly. You were meant to be his ideal little housewife. Keep busy during the daylight behind these four walls and only take out of your self-contained box at his beck and call. His ironclad tightening hold upon your hand was unwelcomed and all you wanted to do was pull away.

You couldn’t, that would create a scene and unwelcome attention that he would quickly write off with a litany of excuses. You would pay for it though when he and you were finally alone. This was just another dinner party to get through by the skin of your teeth as you acted your heart out to play the doting wife.

You would envision Nick in his stead, standing there proudly staring down at your swollen stomach housing his unborn child safely within. Yet, this was not the case as you carefully watched those envious daggered stares aimed at what was not the product of his loving touch. This was all the more reason to pander to his slimy desires, to his wants and needs even if it felt oh so wrong to do so. You needed to bide your time, wait out the clock and not upset your captor too much.

He would slip up eventually then you’d make your daring escape. As you raised the glass that you held in your hand in toast. The fruit juice sloshed from side to side. “Here’s to all who could join us on this most wonderful of evenings” You started, selecting your next words ever so carefully.

“To my husband and your host, cheers” You plastered a false smile upon your lips as you turned to take in the look on his face. Grateful to discover a pleasant smile beaming back in your direction. Gone was that look of jealousy that sent shivers down your spine. For now, you’d get through the night and see the rising sun of morning then it would all begin again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Five years ago

You stood there in the locker room taking it all in, with your service weapon holstered on your left hip. The light brown uniform top paired with the standard issue trousers fit like a glove but the smile upon your lips just won’t disappear. The golden shield pinned to your top for all those who glanced your way to see. It sat just below your radio with its long trailing wire connected to the battery pack hidden in one of the pockets on the thick black standard-issue belt that your service weapon was holstered into. 

This was the day that you had been eagerly waiting for. Although your parents were far from keen on the idea of you uprooting yourself across state lines. They would have rather you joined one of the local law enforcement departments but Vegas had come calling. It was dang near impossible to resist. 

This was your first job, fresh out of the academy and you were as green as they came but it was a rush to find yourself assigned to Sin City. You were expecting to be thrown into the deep end, a graveyard shift straight from the get-go but the sun still shone high in the sky. Maybe, they were planning to treat you with kid gloves. You didn’t know what felt worse.

“Officer, you’re riding with me” The voice of your new partner echoed through the room catching your attention, snapping you out of your daydream. This was the person charged with training you. The one that you’d spend countlessly riding up and down the Strip with as you grabbled with radio codes and all the various crimes committed at the drop of a hat for reasons both simple and complex.

Learning on the job was part of the experience, one that you were ready and willing to jump into as you turned to face Officer Ashby. For Andrew Ashby, this was not his first rodeo or his first rookie. You were the latest in a string of many that had come before, sometimes he felt much like a revolving door.

One came, only to be replaced by another after they passed through the final exam and were sent out onto the streets. In his eyes, you were just the next in a long line of Green Officers who were too naive and not street-wise to be aware of what it was truly like out on the beat. To work the streets, alongside the scum of the earth, the users and the worst of humanity.

This would be a crash course that would open your eyes for better or for worse. This was only the beginning, he doubted you’d last the week, let alone the shift before deciding to get on out of dodge.

“Come on Rookie” He called before exiting the locker room. You did your best to match his pace as you wandered through the Precinct. Your gaze danced from left to right taking in each little detail as you followed Ashby out past the front desk. He did not speak to anyone as he went, his eyes firmly fixed upon the path ahead. 

The desk sergeant nodded your way, you raised a hand to wave back. First impressions were important, especially if you intended to stay, which you did. 

“Rookie, this way. You can social butterfly later” He grunted at you, without ever turning his head back to look at you. You picked up the pace, trying to push down the embarrassment as it arose and your face turned a deeper shade of red.

The police cruiser stood silent, awaiting its driver for the night. Officer Ashby swiftly unlocked the door before sliding behind the wheel. You exited the building, taking the sight of the black and white vehicle, number painted upon the roof with the light housed front and centre. Without a second thought, you rounded the car before opening the passenger side door and taking the seat beside Ashby. As you pulled the door closed, the engine roared to life.  

“Let’s not waste time, mine or yours. Prove to me that you are serious about being here” His words hit hard, you knew that this was what you wanted to do. You had fought hard to get through the trials and tribulations that the Academy flung your way. You felt small like a child being scolded for daring to stand on two feet.

“I have no intention of wasting anyone’s time. Let’s get rolling sir” You shot back, trying to nip this in the bud this early in the night. Silence fell as the radio crackled in life. You watched as he answered reeling off radio codes rapidly, showing his years of practice when engaging and coordinating with the dispatchers. You recognised a few but one stood out. 419 was the code for a dead body. What a way to start your very first shift.

The relentless heat of the afternoon sun hanging high in the sky, baked the bare skin of your neck as you stood at the side of the road. This lonely stretch of desert highway was not where you’d thought to end up for the first call out. A jeep had careened, crashing straight through the barrier before colliding hard with the tree below. 

The paramedics had been and gone, the driver was already dead. Ashby had been the one to radio in for a coroner and forensics. All you could do now was wait, all the necessary protocols had been carried out and at least he had let you take notes as you followed his lead. 

As you awaited the arrival of the Crime Scene Investigators assigned to work this case. You couldn’t help but wonder. They were the scientific side of the coin, working in tandem with the police department to unravel the questions of who, how and on occasion the why. You had tried probing Andrew but he said very little.

“They gather the evidence, what else do you need to know” His tone was curt, refusing to elaborate any further than that. You could not help but notice the painfully obvious chip on his shoulder as the sound of an approaching vehicle rumbling from behind you caught your attention.

With your gaze fixated upon the horizon, you watched as the car came into sight. As the lone black four-door SUV pulled up and parked, you caught the tail-ended of Officer Ashby’s mutterings. “Took them long enough” This was the first of many cues that you could not miss, your training officer was already in a sour mood. You didn’t want to make it any worse, as you closed the gap to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, beside your fellow officer.

You watched as the two criminalists exited their vehicle carrying their kits, the tools of their trade. Each of them could easily be described as handsome, but your gaze settled on the shorter of the two men.  Your already flustered cheeks could explained away by the heat of the afternoon, masking the first flutters of butterflies.

Whenever Nick was asked about their initial encounter, he would also hark back to the fact that they had met through work, stringing the few split-second moments together. Each had started the same way. He remembered that those early days before their friendship had truly taken over, had been whilst he and Warrick had been assigned to work the swing shift with Catherine as their supervisor.

He recalled that their introductory had been awkward and plagued by the chill of her training officer. Officer Andrew Ashby was a decent, hardworking member of the police department but it was hard to shake off that bitter glare that he shot his way, whenever they happened to cross paths at a crime scene. He was a stick in the mud who believed that boots on the ground, good old-fashioned police work trumped whatever they did in that musky lab. 

Nick couldn’t help but notice her, a new and unfamiliar face. Never knowing that this was the very start of a journey that they could embark on together. 

With the crime scene and jeep fully photographed, Nick climbed back up the embankment, needing to head back to the lab to get the evidence to the various lab techs for processing. He glanced from left to right to make sure that he had not missed evidence of the vehicle's descent as every the smallest detail could be vital to getting the answers to what had happened to their victim Cory DeMayo.

Nick had his theories as to what might caused the crash but without the evidence, they were just that, theories. He had noted that Officer Ashby had been one of the first responders on the scene after the Neveah Power company had called in the crashed jeep. When he and Warrick had pulled up, he had seen Detective Chris Cavaliere receiving the rundown from Ashby but it was who was standing off to one side that caught Nick’s attention.

He had never seen her before, she must have been Ashby’s latest assigned rookie. A new fresh face to work alongside. Warrick had called him out, as they carefully clambered down to where the runaway jeep had come to rest. 

“Good luck with getting past Lukewarm Ashby Nick, he’ll never let you say more than a few words to her”  It was a fair assessment of the other man’s character, he rarely went beyond cordial to anyone other than Catherine or Grissom but that was more down to their job title than their personalities. He respected them only as far as their seniority and authority went.

When he was finally back up on the highway, Nick found himself unconsciously searching her out and when his gaze found hers, it was only polite to go over and introduce himself. With a warm smile spread from ear to ear and his hand out for her to take, Nick made the first move.

“Hey, I’m Nick Stokes, CSI. Nice to meet you”  He said with a smile, as he noticed that she seemed to be caught off guard for a split second. Maybe, she hadn’t thought that he could speak to her, that must be Ashby’s doing. She quickly took his hand, accepting the olive branch and introduced herself but before she could say anymore, Ashby cut in.

“Rookie, we’re heading out. Stokes don’t you have anything better to do than trying to flirt with my trainee” Ashby swiftly commanded her with an iron glad authoritative tone matching any seasoned general when addressing the soldiers servicing under them. 

“Goodbye, it was nice to meet you too” She had quickly replied, her words warm and friendly as she turned to leave. Nick stood there for a moment longer, watching the two of them leave. He could not quite make out what was being said, Ashby was doing most of the talking, likely reprimanding her for the perceived slight that she had made in that brief few seconds.

Warrick had been right but still, Nick couldn’t help but smile as he climbed into the SUV and drove off back to the lab.

Their next few chance encounters had played out the same, as if they were reading from a script penned by Officer Ashby. Short and sweet but never going beyond, colleagues being cordial to one another before he stepped in to whisk her away. He always seemed to be waiting in the wings, never more than a few feet away. Warrick thought it was incredibly comical but Nick never gave much weight to the other’s man actions. He just laughed it off and went about with his day. You wandered through the halls, your latest shift had come to an end. Andrew dismissed you but not before giving one last order. To file the last of the paperwork before heading off home. A simple administrative task that would take no more than a few minutes, he had slowly started to allow you to step up and have a more active role, instead of just passively watching and taking notes. 

You had made your first arrest earlier in the day and for the first time, you truly felt like a police officer. The sound of your name being called stopped you in your tracks. You turned to find yourself face-to-face with the brunette Texan who never missed the chance to stop and say hello.

“Good evening CSI Stokes” You amiably greeted him, knowing this was the first chance that you had gotten to speak more than a few simple words to him. 

“You can call me Nick” His words were playful, teasing you for your formality. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright Nick, I just need to file this as I made my first arrest today then I’m done for the week” You continued, finding it incredibly easy to eager in small talk with him. 

“You’ve probably heard it all before, sorry” You couldn't help but apologise for your excited ramblings. “No, I get it as I was the same when I closed my first case. Warrick and I are going to get something to eat if you want to join us then you can tell us about your arrest” 

“I’d like that, if I’m not imposing” You answered, happy at the very notion of getting to know both of them. “No imposition at all, I’ll wait for you in Reception”

[xoxiu]

my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader

chapter five table of contents masterlist

join the taglist

summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.

tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline, age gap

Yoongi laid in bed, head turned towards where Kiwo sat. She placed herself in the corner furthest from the bed in an attempt to keep distance between her and her abductor. It had been a long day, and all Yoongi wanted was to just sleep peacefully throughout the night. 

Soon after Namjoon had left that morning, Kiwo tried to escape no less than seven times. It came to the point where Yoongi just let her try her best to open the door, allowing her to use up all her energy in her attempt to flee. Her will eventually died down, and she sat in front of the door, waiting for Yoongi to let her leave. 

Kiwo looked tired, Yoongi noted. She rested her head against the wall, switching between staring off into the distance and closing her eyes for minutes at a time. He watched as she struggled to keep her eyes open, and how her lips were pouted as soft breaths escaped. 

"You know," Yoongi broke the silence, "You can sleep on the bed. I won't hurt you."

He didn't expect a response back but heard a faint 'fuck you' coming from Kiwo's direction. He gave a short chuckle before closing his own eyes. 

There was so much Yoongi needed to do now that he had Kiwo. He needed to take care of her roommate situation, as the roommate would eventually wonder and worry about where Kiwo was. Then there were her classes. Yoongi wanted her to still attend classes, but didn’t trust her to behave yet. Jungkook could always escort her to her classes- the young man barely attended his own. 

Yoongi also wanted to get some gifts for Kiwo to help her settle. Some things to play with, bath and skin care things, and maybe new clothes. He wanted her to be comfortable here. That shopping trip may involve one of Yoongi’s friends watching Kiwo while he shopped, as he was certain she would not behave in a store.

His thoughts eventually turned into dreams as he fell asleep. After a while, he was awoken by the feeling of the bed shifting. Looking over, Yoongi found Kiwo laying with her back towards Yoongi near the opposite side of the bed. He gave a small smile before closing his eyes yet again.

Kiwo sat cross legged on the bed as Yoongi brought a tray of food into the bedroom. He placed it on the bed in front of Kiwo, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

The girl looked at the food wearily- she wasn’t sure if the food was safe, and was fighting her hunger in order to remain stubborn and safe. It wasn’t until Yoongi grabbed one of the pastries that Kiwo deemed the food as safe.

The two ate silently. Kiwo’s eyes shifted back and forth from the food to Yoongi. He looked very intimidating, but Kiwo couldn’t help but also find it attractive. While she wouldn’t admit it at the time, she developed a small crush on the older man when they first met at the cafe. A small part of her wondered whether or not this was fate. 

Kiwo never really got any attention from boys. Romantically, at least. She had plenty of friends that were boys when she was younger, but never felt romantically interested in anybody. Yoongi was one of her first crushes, sans celebrities and fictional characters. 

‘No,’ Kiwo told herself mentally, ‘He hurt you and kidnapped you.’ Still, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from the older blonde. 

Yoongi caught Kiwo’s stare and gave a small smile. Her mouth was slightly parted as she was deep in thought. 

“Kiwo.”

Her trance was broken as she blinked repeatedly and looked down into her lap with a blush. Yoongi had caught her staring at him, that was just embarrassing. 

“We have some things to discuss. Mainly about uni and your classes.” Yoongi cleared his throat, indicating that he wanted a response. Kiwo nodded her head, and Yoongi figured for now he would accept the disrespectful response. 

“I’ll let you go to your classes Monday if you want to, but you’ll be escorted by Jungkook. Do you remember him?” Another nod. 

“And, with your dormitory situation, I’ll have people pack up your things and tell your roommate you’ve moved out.”

Kiwo looked at Yoongi with a look of shock and rage.

”I’m not staying here! I want to go to my own room!” Kiwo shouted, crossing her arms in defiance. 

“This is not up for debate, Kiwo.” Yoongi stared at Kiwo with a stern look in his eyes, and Kiwo immediately lowered her gaze. “Speaking of your attitude, I feel like it’s a good time to discuss rules.”

”I’m not six, you don’t own me, and I don’t need rules.” Kiwo spoke with pure disgust. Yoongi ignored her statement and continued on.

”The biggest one is no attitude. I feel like we’ll be struggling with that one a bit. Next, you’ll refer to me as either Sir or Daddy-“

”WHAT!?” Kiwo stammered out, face in a full blush. She would never call someone ‘Daddy’ for she would be too embarrassed and just feel weird. It just brings a whole new, unwanted dynamic into everything. 

“…Continuing on. You’ll never leave my sight for now, and you need to ask permission to go to the bathroom, eat, drink, and go or do anything else.”

Kiwo didn't response, and just stared at Yoongi with wide eyes and her mouth opened wide. All of this was absolutely ridiculous. She didn’t choose to be here, why should she have to follow any rules?

”Is that clear, Kiwo?”

Kiwo panicked and pushed Yoongi off the bed. Her eyes met his enraged ones, and Kiwo prepared for the worst.

[greyowl-archives]

Thin Ice ~ A.H

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

wc: 4.7k

cw: kind of secret relationship that only the team is really aware of, agent!reader, Hotch being angry (my favorite gender), insecurity, a bit of angst if you squint, wife!reader, injury, blood, protective!Hotch

a/n: Second fic Rah! Woah this is longer than I thought. Soz for the delay guys, got caught up in some uni work but will try my best to put something out once a week. Don’t know how I feel bout this one if I’m being fr.

Summary: A retired agent comes back to assist with a case and immediately decides he has it out for you. Hotch is tempted to call him out for it but you assure him it’s fine. That is until the agent carries out an outrageous idea that puts your safety in jeopardy. Your husband leaves the agent with a bit more than just a warning.

“You’re here early” You heard Rossi comment as he walked into the conference room.

You gave a half hearted hum, not looking up from the files you were reading over. “early start to my day” you replied. “Managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour last night”

That wasn’t entirely untrue. You were out practically the moment you put the kids to bed and collapsed into yours. The reason you were up bright and early, however, wasn’t by a well timed bedtime but rather the fact that by the time it reached four in the morning and you’ve already woken up practically every hour before then, you decided to just get up and get a head start at the bureau.

Aaron was going to be on your ass today.

Your lack of text message from him this morning said as much. You knew he had felt you shifting restlessly around in the bed and there was no chance he didn’t wake up when you quietly slipped out a few hours later. And since nothing got past that man, you knew he would’ve seen the trashed remains of the not one, but two cups of coffee you hastily downed before your departure.

Any moment now, he was going to walk in, Wednesday today so he was going to have his grey suit on with the red tie. You liked that suit on him, it was one of your favorites, and he will definitely use that fact to his advantage. He’ll greet the team and just as he reaches his seat next to you, he’ll catch your eye with a fleeting look, one that with three years, approaching four of marriage behind you, didn’t need any words.

And speak of the devil, here he was.

You didn’t look up, didn’t have to to know it was him. You recognized the pace of his shoes against his stride and the faint sound of the briefcase buckles.

“Morning” you heard him greet the team as he walked in, his steps going louder as he approached your side of the table.

He placed his files on the table and within the next moment, your third cup of coffee was taken out of your hand and set aside.

“(Y/N)” he greeted, his voice low.

You finally tilted your head up to glance up at him and there it was, the hardness of his eyes, the slight furrow of his brow, the look.

It didn’t linger long before Aaron sat down, letting Penelope present the case.

Female abductor. Sexual sadist. Serial Murderer.

You wondered if seeing these things on file will ever get easier. You felt your stomach coil at the sight of the women, their faces lifeless and eyes forever frozen with terror. Big holes in the palms of their hands and in each of their feet like they were….

“Crucified?” Emily offered.

Spencer shook his head.

“No, the angle of the wounds doesn’t align with those of a crucification” he turned the file to the side a bit, his eyes scanning over the pictures. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning.

“They were hung” he finally said.

“Like from hooks? Like the ones at a butchers?” You asked, lifting your head up from the file.

Another shake of his head.

“No…pinned, like to a wall” Spencer straightened up, his brows raising like they always did before he dumped a bunch of information. “The evidence of torture is consistent with his anger and hatred for the women as well as the assault, however also consistent is his sexual sadism. After he’s done with them he’ll hang them up like trophies, just like hunters”

Yeah. It’ll never get easier.

“Alright, Garcia run through all the records of hunting rifles purchased within the area and cross that with mental health assessments” Aaron said.

“Right away sir”

“Before we leave-“ his voice stopped everyone in their tracks. “-Agent Carter, former associate director of the Criminal Investigations Unit, will be assisting us with the case today. He will be meeting us at the airport”

“Shouldn’t he be here with us?” Derek asked “This is a critical case, we should make sure he’s familiar with it”

“He’s good at what he does. You guys will need to trust him. Wheels up in an hour. Agent (L/N), a minute”

You lingered behind as you watched the rest of the team file out before letting out a breath.

“I told you Aaron, it’s fine” you said once the door closed.

“I’m having a hard time believing you”

He sat against the table, his arms crossing across his chest, his head tilting a bit so he could see your face better.

“What’s going on? Don’t lie to me”

His voice softened, taking on that gentle tone he always used with you, knowing it made you weak.

You sighed, your eyes dropping down to your fingers which were absentmindedly tracing over the table.

“I want to do better…be better” you said quietly. You saw him shift in your peripheral as he realized what this is about.

“You did what you thought was right”

“What I thought was right ended with a girl dead Aaron” you bit back.

It had been a slip in the case, the unsub was smarter than the team initially thought. In a spontaneous decision, you went in alone, only a gun on you to protect you.

For a moment, things were looking up despite the grim circumstances. You found the girl, got her untied, and started guiding her back to the exit with no altercation. That should’ve been your first warning. It was too easy. And then just as you were about to leave, he appeared out from behind a wall, a different girl in his arms, a gun pressed to her head.

What was going to be the biggest hit of your career quickly turned into a gamble. One life for another.

You hadn’t prepared to have to talk him down and you weren’t yet experienced enough to do it on a whim. So you took the shot.

But he must’ve seen it in your eyes because the girl would go down with him.

It had weighed on you heavily, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the team.

Aaron especially.

He normally hovered over you- always having you somewhere in his line of sight, trailing behind you where he could whether that was interrogations or to areas of interest, and when he couldn’t he’d make sure he knew where you were-but that protectiveness was just a byproduct of your marriage.

But after this incident he was just…everywhere all the time.

He wasn’t subtle about having you in his sight anymore and you could see him practically everywhere you turned…hovering. You weren’t allowed anywhere alone let alone barely even be alone.

He assured you that your slip up didn’t change your standing as an agent with him, but it seemed like everytime the team was called to go out on the field, he’d find some excuse to keep you on the sidelines.

“I just feel like you don’t trust me anymore” you said, looking back up at him.

He glanced away for a moment before letting out a breath.

“I’m taking the necessary precautions”

You watched as he stood back up to his feet, straightening his blazer out.

“I’ll see you in a bit”

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Agent Carter was a short man with an even shorter patience.

He greets Aaron and Rossi with a firm handshake but barely regards the rest of you, save for a brief nod.

Now you’re in a sort of awkward corner with Aaron sitting next to you while Rossi and Carter sit across from you.

“She must be a talented one for you to choose her for the case” Carter said, nodding towards you.

You turned your gaze away from the window at his words, your brow furrowing a bit at the implications behind them.

“She’s a special agent not an intern” Aaron said curtly, not looking up from his file.

The agent seemed surprised at this, his brows quirking. “No kidding. How old even is she?”

This time, Aaron’s eyes flickered up at the agent, a hint on irritation passing through them.

“How about you ask her?”

“Twenty four” you said before the agent could open his mouth.

“That’s young”

“Does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Are you good?”

��Substantially”

Agent Carter nodded silently, his eyes raking over you for a brief moment.

“I hope you are right”

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Your lips were cracking even before you got out of the airport.

Oro Valley Arizona, in the middle of May.

Just your luck to be stationed outside of the city in the big open desert, with no proper ac unit as far as the eye can see.

You squinted, your sunglasses not helping much with the sun that was beating down on you as you looked over the scene.

“And you searched this entire area?” You asked, looking up from where the latest body was found, now covered by a white sheet.

The sheriff nodded.

“Yes ma’am. Expanded our sweep to two miles in every direction. Found nothin’ helpful, not even shoe prints. This killer is stealthy”

You hummed, nodding your head.

“Yes he is”

You stepped back up to the main road where the team had set up under a white tent.

“What you got sunshine?” Derek asked as you joined them under the shade. You sighed. “Stealthy but predictable. You?”

Derek shook his head, looking over the scene photos again. “Same. No evidence. It’s like she just appeared here”

You frowned as you saw officers begin to head back into their cars. “What’s this about?”

“I told them to sweep the scene again, identify what car the guy used from any tracks left behind in the sand” Agent Carter said, not looking up from his files.

“The sheriff told me they checked, not even in just the surrounding area but two miles out, no tire tracks in the sand were found” you said. “There’s reason to believe he drove here but carried her to the dump spot on foot”

“Do I look like a damn idiot to you?” The agent suddenly asked. You blinked, not expecting the harsh tone.

“Sorry?”

Agent Carter sighed heavily, closing the file in his hand.

“Look kid, I get that you’re all young and excited to be involved in this case and stuff, but just let the professionals with more experience do their jobs alright?”

Any irritation you already suppressed from his earlier attitude came bubbling back in your chest and you felt heat rise into your cheeks.

“I think it is within everyone’s best interests not to waste our time chasing leads we don’t have” You bit back.

He let out a bitter laugh, his files dropping harshly onto the table in front of him as he turned towards you.

“Yeah you’d know a lot about best interests huh? Like how your best interest got that girl killed?”

That was a low blow.

You should’ve seen it coming, but it truly caught you by surprise and you visibly froze up.

Behind you, you heard Derek get up from his seat. “Watch it man”

The agent let out a scoff, his eyes flickering between you two. “I think you’re best sitting this one out agent” he muttered to you, turning back to his files.

You swallowed thickly, feeling as though all the moisture has been sucked out of your throat. Derek went to place a hand on your shoulder but you were already storming off, pushing past Aaron who was just walking up to join you guys.

“(Y/N)?” He called after you but you ignored him, the corners of your vision already blurring with tears as you made your way to the car.

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

You watched the distant figures of your team working beneath the tents, some getting into cars and coming back while others walked about the area.

Aaron had glanced over in your direction a few times but you just turned away, plagued with a deep sense of shame.

You told him you were going to be fine.

This was going to be the case that proved to him that you could handle it. And yet here you were, sitting in time out like a child.

You imagine Derek had filled him in on a word or two hence why he hadn’t attempted to come over to you yet.

It was only when the evening had fallen were you waking up with him getting into the car. You lifted your head from where it was leaning against the window, wincing a bit at the soreness in your neck.

He didn’t say anything for a good moment, simply quietly starting the car before pulling out onto the main road.

You drove in silence until the scene disappeared into the darkness of the Arizona desert and then he spoke.

“I’ve heard what happened” he said, his voice soft.

You don’t respond.

“Are you alright?” He asks

You swallow again, your eyes fixing on the road ahead of you.

“Maybe he’s right Aaron, maybe I shouldn’t…I can’t…”

“Hey, stop that, we talked about this (Y/N)”

You let out a breath that sounded like a scoff.

“Did we?”

You saw him straighten up from the corner of your eye at your retort.

He sighed heavily, a sign he was getting worked up and he was keeping himself in check.

“(Y/N)” he repeated, his voice firmer. “I told you I am taking-“

“-the necessary precautions, honestly Aaron just give me a break” you said with an exasperated breath, your body slumping into your seat as your arms crossed over your chest, your head turning to the window. “I just want to go to the hotel” you murmured, your voice quiet and laced with defeat.

You felt Aaron look at you, practically could feel the way his brows furrowed before he returned his attention to the road.

Three hours later, after a quick dinner and much needed warm shower, the two of you were tucked into bed. Aaron, exhausted by the heat and from following sheriffs practically back and forth all day from the same three places, was already dozed off beside you, his breath leaving him in soft snores.

You were wide awake, turned onto your side as you watched him in the quiet darkness of the room, your eyes following the way the street lamp light traced along his features. You liked watching him in moments like these, away from the demand of work and where you can see him as the soft Aaron only get to see at home.

You sighed, slowly turning back onto your back before pushing yourself up, quietly slipping out of the bed. You turned back, making sure Aaron was still asleep and once you were satisfied, you reached for your sweater, pulling it over your head as you silently left the room.

You didn’t know where you were going, just wandering aimlessly through the brightly lit hallway.

Eventually, you stop at a small sitting area, sinking down into one of the brown leather armchairs, leaning back against it and allowing your eyes to close.

“Long night?”

The voice startles you and your head snaps up, your eyes fixing on the figure standing in front of you.

Agent Carter in all his glory, still dressed in his suit, stood a few paces away from you, a somewhat unreadable expression on his face.

“You can say that”

You say back.

Agent Carter sighs.

“Look” he says, circling the chair across from you and sitting down. “I know we got off on a bad start”

“Bad might be an understatement” you muttered.

“Right just…” he sighs again. “Listen as unbelievable as this sounds…I see myself a lot in you kid” he said.

You watch as his hands clasp together his thumbs tapping against each other. Your eyes flicker back up to his face, trying to decipher where he was going with this.

“I want to give you the opportunity of a lifetime that’ll elevate your career as an agent to standards that rival Hotchner and Rossi”

Against your better judgment, your curiosity peaked. “Go on”

A small grin graced his lips.

“We can have this unsub in handcuffs before anyone wakes up in the morning. Oh just imagine their faces, his face when he sees what you’ve managed. How does that sound?”

Good.

Really good in fact.

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Maybe there’s a point to that tight, coiling feeling in your gut when you’re putting your life on the line.

You force yourself to breathe, to keep your head up and your arms relaxed at your sides as you walked through the quiet streets, your path only illuminated by the yellow streetlamps.

Your heels clicked steadily against the pavement, the hem of your short dress brushing against the skin of your thighs with each step.

This was risky. Dangerous. Stupid above all.

You were vaguely aware of the black car trailing behind you in the shadows, you could feel the watchful eyes of the sheriff and agent Carter on you, offering a minimal semblance of security as you baited yourself out.

Baited was put lightly.

You were handing yourself over to this killer on a silver platter and an apple in your mouth.

You closed your eyes for a moment, forcing your mind to focus, to relax. If you’re too tense, he won’t come.

A gust of wind breezed past you and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, goosebumps sweeping across your skin.

“A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be out here in the cold”

A car, a older Mercedes Benz, pulled up to a stop next to you. Your eyes fixed upon his face behind the wheel, barely visible in the shitty streetlight above you.

Younger, a lot younger than you’ve anticipated.

Anywhere from brown to sandy brown hair and if you squinted, you could make out the green of his eyes.

You stopped in your stride, making a purpose to exaggerate the swing of your hips as you turned to him, arching your back as you leaned against the car, ducking your head to see him better.

“What would you know what a pretty girl like me should and shouldn’t do?” You asked, a sweet, flirtatious smile on your lips.

He chuckled lowly, leaning towards you a bit.

“How about you get in this car and I’ll show you pretty girl”

Your eyes subtly darted around, anticipating for the black car to come out of the shadows to make the arrest, but it never did.

You bit your lip, a deep coil of dread tightening in your stomach at the realization of what you had to do. A thick swallow and strained smile later, you were buckling yourself into the passenger seat as the car steadily pulled off the curb, your gaze just barely catching the sight of the black car emerging and turning away in the direction opposite of you.

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Your eyes fluttered open, your vision darkened and blurred, an insistent high pitched ringing in your ears making it hard to focus on anything else.

A sharp pain pulsed at the back of your head, making you squint against the light steadily beaming over you in the otherwise dim room.

“There’s my pretty girl”

A rough hand gently caressed your hair and a cold plunge went down your spine as the guy came into view.

He stopped in front of you, leaning down with his hands pressing against your forearms and you could smell the acrid sweet smoke that lingered from his cigarettes.

He tilted his head, his face morphing into a sickly mocking expression.

“Aww dont be like that. You’re the most beautiful piece I’ll have in my gallery”

You didn’t want to show weakness, give him the satisfaction of your fear, but the reality that this really might be it, that you’ll become another victim to your case, was starting to set in.

He let go off your hair and your head dropped.

You heard him straighten up and saw him step away to a nearby table, coming back with a small blade that glinted as it appeared in your line of vision.

You closed your eyes again as you felt the cool metal slide beneath the ropes binding your wrists.

You tried to imagine it was him.

Aaron.

Tried to imagine he was kneeling in front of you, one of those gentle chuckles that you loved so much rumbling in his chest as he worked to get the satin rope off your wrists.

“How’d you even manage to do this sweetheart?”

He’d asked, shaking his head in amusement. You could’ve only blushed and looked away, a shy smile on your lips. It was his birthday and you had wanted to surprise him when he got home from work that night, except you got yourself tangled trying to wrap yourself up for him and ended up stuck on your bed for him to discover.

Your wrists would be freed and he’d help you up to your feet. “Don’t be shy, angel” he murmured against your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and then to the corner of your mouth. You could smell his cologne, diluted by the smell of paper and coffee from the office, his aftershave against his skin, wood…

Blood

Your eyes opened again as your head was yanked back by your hair, landing upon a canvas of wood.

“You’ll look so pretty up there. Prettier than any painting ever painted”

Your stomach turned as you looked upon it, the blood that had saturated into the wood, lighter in areas where the bodies were pressed against it, the splintering where the women had struggled in their last moments.

“Stay still. You don’t want this to hurt more than it has too”

A click of a gun.

“Let her go”

Aaron’s voice startled you more than the situation you were in.

You were promptly yanked around and the blade of a knife was pressed right against your throat as you were pulled back against the guy behind you.

There you could see him, standing off just where the light could reach, his gun drawn and angled steadily in front of him. His hair was soft and beneath his vest, you could make out the familiar white shirt that he slept in that night.

Maybe you were imagining things.

Maybe you were already hanging from the canvas in that foreboding room, your neurons firing the last image of him in their dying moments.

“There you are agent, just in time for the show”

“There will be no show”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong”

You felt the knife press harder into your skin, breaking it ever so slightly. Aaron’s eyes met yours for a moment.

Leave.

Don’t watch me die.

And then, he lowered his gun.

You watched as he placed it down on the table beside him, the sound emitting around the room.

You saw his palms raising in the light, a white flag amongst the battle.

Your body slumped a bit with relief.

This didn’t have to turn worse than it already was.

You opened your eyes again to him only to see he wasn’t looking at you.

His eyes were fixed on something behind you.

In fragments of a second, the weight of the body behind you was sliding down and crumpling to the floor, the blade of the knife falling from your throat and clattering to the ground at your feet.

You hadn’t even processed the sound of a gun going off until Aaron was in front of you, his strong arms enveloping you as your knees buckled.

“There you go, I’ve got you. It’s ok, you’re ok” he murmured, his lips brushing against your head.

The tape was pulled from your lips and you let out a weak breath, your throat seeming to burn from the thick air.

“Aaron” you exhaled against him, your hands shakily wrapped around his neck, your fingers sliding into his hair, holding him, feeling him.

“Aaron I’m sorry I just wanted to-“ you babbled, the damns breaking as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Shh we’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you out of here”

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

An ambulance was already outside waiting for you on the side of the road.

The air was frigid and the surrounding area was dark, miles of empty desert spanning in every direction around you.

You sat quietly on the back edge of the vehicle, wrapped in Aaron’s jacket as the paramedics treated the wounds around your wrists and Aaron sat next to you, holding an ice pack to your head.

The rest of the team lingered around you, keeping enough distance for you and Aaron to have some space.

“Hey Morgan, take over for a minute” you heard Aaron say as he stood. You lifted your head up at him, giving him an inquisitive look.

“I’ll be right back sweetheart” he said, pressing a kiss to your head as Derek took his place next to you.

You watched Aaron walk up to the car that had pulled up a few paces ahead. “Who’s that?” You asked.

“A man who’s place I would not want to be in right now” Derek answered.

The car door opened and out stepped Agent Carter. You saw his mouth barely open before Aaron was on him.

“Who gave you the order?” Aaron demanded, his hands grasping at the lapels of the other man’s blazer and pushing him back against the car.

Agent Carter swallowed before he spoke.

“I assure you we made the plan with as much caution-“

Aaron cut him off, his grip tightening around the fabric.

“Caution? My agent gets swept up in five seconds right under your nose? Was that part of the ‘cautiously arranged’ plan?”

“My plan-” agent Carter said, pushing Aaron off him”-led us to him didn’t it?”

There was a heavy moment of silence and you could see Aaron’s jaw clench before he spoke again.

“You had no authority to carry out this plan without my knowledge. You evaded my authority as unit chief and jeopardized the safety and life of one of my agents”

Agent Carter sighed. “It won’t happen again alright?”

“It won’t because you are no longer an agent” Aaron said. “The attorney general will be informed of your actions and you will be placed under investigation for obstruction of justice and the deliberate endangerment to safety of a federal agent” he held out his hand, an expectant look in his eyes.

You saw the other man’s eyes flicker down to his hand and then back up to his face, hesitating, hoping Aaron would let down. But he didn’t. Aaron kept his stance firm and eventually, with a sigh, Jamie Carter handed over his badge and gun.

“Strauss will be waiting for you when we land back in Quantico” Aaron said. He gave a brief nod to JJ and Rossi who escorted Carter to one of the nearby federal cars.

Aaron walked back to you, glancing down at the badge in his hand for a moment before tucking it away into his pocket. He smiled lightly as he approached, thanking Derek as he retook his place beside you.

You sighed, looking up at him. “I’m sorry again for everything Aaron” you said quietly. “I should’ve discussed the plan with you beforehand”

He hummed and then was silent for a moment.

“When we get back, Penelope will have your new badge. I just got the confirmation that it was validated”

You frown in confusion as you watch him stand once again. “New badge?”

Aaron smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks.

“Well, i think it’d be impractical for an SSA to walk around with a regular special agent badge, don’t you think?”

GIF from Pinterest

Headers from @cafekitsune

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Cuddle Bunny Pt 2

Pro Hero!Kirishima x reader with a bunny quirk

Kirishima get’s his hand on his bunny. 

tw: smut, yandere, breeding kink, kidnapping, noncon, dubcon, gaslighting, penetration, delusional Kirishima, belly bulge

You struggled to open your eyes as you inhaled the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla. You heart rate picked up as you realized you were in a totally unfamiliar environment. Weren't you just at work?

Whoever was behind you had their arms around you to keep you from sitting up.

"Good morning, bunny. How'd you sleep?"

You knew that voice, confirming who was beside you.

Your mouth was dry and your voice cracked as you asked, "Kirishima? What's going on?"

"I picked you up from work last night, you were out like a light."

The pervious night was muddled in your mind but you knew he wasn't telling the truth. He was supposed to be your last client for the night. The two of you walked out of the building around the same time. You politely declined his offer to walk you home. The next thing you remember was sitting on the curb as the world started to spin. Kirishima was talking to you but you couldn't remember what was said.

You took a shaky breath. You had to be brave, besides he was a hero. There was an explanation. You just had to find it.

"Kiri, are you telling me the whole truth?" Your voice was barely above a whisper but you knew he heard you. His arms tensed around you.

"You're such a curious bunny. We can talk more once you're feeling better."

What was he talking about? All you had was a headache, you could hold down a conversation. Confrontation was never your thing. But maybe you could just keep asking him.

You wanted to wrap things up so you could go home before work.

"Can we talk about it later?" You asked. "I have to run home before my shift."

He nuzzled closer to you, "What do you mean, silly? You don't work there any more."

It was becoming harder to contain the panic building inside of you. You struggled harder against his grasp as small tears began to prick your eyes.

"Please let me up. You're scaring me."

Instead of letting go, Kirishima repositioned you too face him.

He looked concerned, "You don't need to be scared, you're safe here. You don't have to go back to that job, it's too dangerous."

/

"Be a good bunny, lift your pretty little tail a bit higher for me."

His hands guided your hips further into the air. Once he deemed you to be in a suitable position you felt him tug down your panties, exposing your slick cunt to the cool air.

You whimpered into the pillow. Your body, betraying your mind, ached to be touched by Kirishima's rough hands.

"You're so beautiful," he cooed. With two fingers he began to tease your delicate folds.

As the pressure in your lower abdomen began to build you tried to pretend that the situation was different. If you could lie to yourself about the position you were in maybe you could hold it together. He was stronger than you, much more athletic, even with out his quirk. Even if you struggled you knew you couldn't escape. You didn't want to risk making him angry. Although he kept repeating that he would never hurt you, how much could you trust the words of your abductor?

You bucked towards him when his thumb pressed against your clit.

Although you couldn't see it Kirishima was beaming with pride. He felt reassured that he was making you feel good. His cock throbbed in anticipation for the moment you both felt good.

But he told himself it wouldn't be manly to enter you with his dick before making you orgasm at least once.

Regaining control of himself he paused his assault on your pussy to rub his hands down your back toward your neck, gently pushing his thumbs against the base of your skull. You letting out a rough whine. Both frustrated with the lost sensation and pleased by the firm pressure against your shoulders.

"Okay baby, let's get you prepped, you're tiny compared to me. Let's get you as ready as we can."

You gasped as his index finger entered you. Pressing and curling against your walls as if to examine and assess the situation.

He continued to use his other fingers on the outside of your pussy. There was a wet noise as he gently thrust his finger in and out, and then with out warning you felt a stretching sensation. He has added another finger to your insides.

"That's it baby, you're doing so good. You got such a tight little pussy. How about I get a toy for next time. Something a little bigger than my fingers but smaller than the real thing. That way we can't get you ready a bit better than we will this time."

The idea of ‘next time’ made you lightheaded. You whimpered as he added a third finger. You could feel the stretch between your legs. Paired with the stimulation of your clit you couldn't hold back as the tension in your body released, Kirishima tighten his grip to keep you in place as you tried to jerk away from him.

Pleasure flooded your body and you wanted to collapse onto the mattress.

As you slowed your breathing he gently lowered you're ass so you could rest as he slowly removed his fingers from your drenched hole. He trailed kisses along your back while he praised you.

Finally he turned you on to your back. He was flushed, his hair falling around his face, and he had barely broken a sweat.

He removed his pants revealing his... monster cock. There was no other way for you to describe it. You had never been with someone who had such length AND girth. It looked like it was gonna break something in you.

No matter how hard you tried, Kirishima managed spread your legs. He took a moment to admire the mess he made before digging through a drawer on his nightstand.

You closed your eyes at the sound of the lube bottle opening. Kirishima applied a generous amount to his cock before using two fingers to rub the remaining substance into you.

"There we go," he whispered as he lined up his tip to your soaked cunt. "Just relax for me. Don't be afraid to hold on to me. I'm pretty sturdy."

The tip wasn't bad. You were thankful for the lube. You needed to hold on to him. Gripping your nails into his back as he continued to slide into you. You focused all your energy into your hands, afraid to move. Tears flowed freely from you now. The pain seared and you couldn't stop it.

"It hurts," your gasped. "So bad. Please no more."

Kiri paused.

"Shhh, bunny. I got you. We're almost there then we can give you another moment to adjust." He was running circles on your hips with his thumbs, wanting to provide you some form of comfort. He knew he was a challenge to take. It didn't help that you were so tight. "Take a deep breath for me."

You did, grateful for the momentary break. But as he instructed you to breathe out he shoved the remainder of his cock into you. A violent sob wracked your body. Kirishima hoped that the sooner you adjusted to his size the sooner you'd stop crying.

With him fully inside of you he rested for another moment. You were so tight that he was honesty surprised he fit. He brought a palm to the slightly swollen area of your lower belly. He applied just a bit of pressure before he began to slowly pulse in and out of you. You were still shaking but had quieted down.

When he no longer felt like you you were off the verge of passing out he was ready to help you feel good. He kept his palm against the bulge he was responsible before, but repositioned slightly so his thumb could make its way back to where it belonged - the swollen bud between your legs.

"God you're such a good girl. So tight and warm," he panted. "Gonna fuck you so good. Teach you that I'm the only man you need."

His speed began to pick up. While you were still in pain you began to feel the pressure expand within you once more.

Kirishima kissed the tears off your cheeks. He knew he was close, your walls clenching around his member. He was determined not to be too rough with you, at least not the first few times, but you were unintentionally wearing down his his resolve.

He nipped your neck harder than he should have, breaking the skin. You arched against his chest which allowed him to wrap his arms underneath you.

Kirishima felt like he couldn't get close enough to you as he pressed violently against you tender body. Another orgasm shot through your body causing you to clench even tighter around the cock inside of you.

"Fuckin hell," Kirishima groaned, "You take me so well bunny."

You felt a swell inside of you as he released inside you.

Your mind felt fuzzy with post orgasm bliss. Kirishima softened inside you, remaining in place as he showered you in praise. He began to withdraw from you, allowing his seed to drip past your puffy folds. He didn't leave you empty for too long. He used two of his fingers to push his fluid back into you. He used his other hand to pull you against his chest.

You were still tearful and the realization that he was using his fingers as a makeshift plug to keep his seed inside you was making you sob again.

"Don't cry bunny, you did such a good job. Once we calm down we can get in the shower. Then I'd got a little present for you since you're behaving so well."

You were not a fighter, you wished you were. You wanted to yell at him. To thrash and scream and make him stop holding you. But you weren't a fighter and you knew fighting him would do you no good. You would have to bide your time until you could make a run for it.

At least he hadn't been mean to you. And aside from (probably) breaking your pussy, he hadn't hurt you yet.

He was gentle getting you into the shower. You were washed first, his hands roaming your body and conditioning your hair. Then he helped settle you against the shower bar while he quickly took care of himself. After drying you off with the fluffiest towel he slipped one off his shirts over your head. It was just the right size to cover you ass.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you sitting along the tub. There wasn't much for you to look at. The cabinets were locked and the room had no windows.

Kirishima was back, changed into comfortable sweat pants. He carried you with ease back to bed. The old sheets piled in a corner, he had replaced them with fresh linens.

Hopefully, he thought, this would make you more comfortable.

"Ready for your surprise?" He asked with a pointy grin.

You thought it was a rhetorical question but it looked like he was waiting for your response. Did you really want a surprise? No. But you probably didn't get much say so you merely shrugged your shoulders. He bounce out bed and went to rummage through one of his drawers.

He turned around to present a stuffed animal. It was a chunky shark, not too big but the perfect holding size.

"Look! I saw him and thought you would think he was cute. Don't forget to name him, 'kay?"

You clutched the toy to your chest. He knew you loved plushies. You mentioned it to him once and said you had them all over your apartment. The shark smelled like Kirishima.

[parkerslatte]

Happy Place

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of injury, torture 

Word Count: 3k

Summary: After being kidnapped and tortured by an unsub, Y/N thinks of Spencer to keep her grounded.

MASTERLIST

***

Throughout her life Y/N was always told that whenever something bad happened to her, she should go to her happy place. When she was sad, she would go to her happy place. When she was hurting, she would go to her happy place. When there was a tough case, Y/N would go to her happy place. However all these instances didn’t prepare her for the torture she would soon come to endure. 

She was on her way home from work early since she had finished all the work she had needed to complete. At first, she was going to wait around for Spencer so they could leave together but Spencer told her to leave since he would be staying late that night. Y/N pressed a kiss to his lips before leaving without another thought. What she didn’t know was she was only half an hour away from enduring the worst pain she would ever feel.

Y/N climbed into her car, turned the radio on before driving off. She sang lightly to the radio as she drove, following the route home like the back of her hand. It was beginning to get dark and Y/N was looking forward to going home and sinking into a hot bath and relaxing. It had been a tough week with paperwork and cases so Y/N was looking forward to her day off. 

There were barely any cars on the road so everything was quiet except for the radio playing softly in the background. Someone stepped out in front of Y/N’s car causing her to swerve before totally stopping. She looked out of the rear view mirror and saw the person on the floor collapse. Without thinking, Y/N climbed out of the car and rushed over to the body laying in the middle of the road. The person wasn’t moving which worried Y/N. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Y/N asked softly.

What Y/N didn’t prepare for was the man rolling over and hitting her over the head with something, knocking her out cold. 

***

People always say that your life flashes before your eyes when you think you’re going to die, but Y/N’s life was flashing before her eyes when she knew she was very much alive. Everything and everyone she had ever loved replayed in her head over and over again like clockwork. Her abductor sat across from her, watching. He hadn’t done anything yet which caused Y/N to be confused. 

She watched as his jaw clenched and his foot tapped on the floor, growing more and more irritated with each passing second. Every time Y/N moved even the slightest bit, he would tap his food even more and pick at his nail beds. What Y/N didn’t prepare for however, was the man lunging forward, reeling his hand back before bringing it back down to her face with a loud smack.

***

Y/N smiled over her coffee cup at Spencer who was going through countless files. She thought no one noticed but of course, someone did. Luckily it wasn’t Spencer.

“You do realise you’re being really obvious right?” JJ’s voice caused Y/N to snap out of her daydream. 

Y/N cast her gaze away from Spencer to face JJ. Even though Y/N knew what JJ was talking about, she faked a confused expression on her face that she was sure JJ could see right through.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been staring at Spence for the past few minutes. Just go and talk to him,” JJ stated, “Or ask him out.”

Y/N swatted JJ’s arm gently, “Keep your voice down,” Y/N whispered, “And besides, I don’t want to disrupt his work.”

JJ sighed, “Y/N listen, I don’t know how much longer I can take of this.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in actual confusion this time, “Take more of what?”

“Of yours and Reid’s constant glances at each other.” JJ said.

Y/N sighed, “I’m just worried that it will ruin our friendship if we get into a fight or anything like that. And I’m not even sure he’s ready to be in another relationship, not after Maeve.”

“Y/N, I know that you probably don’t see it, but it seems as if Spence is over Maeve - especially from where I’m standing.”

“But what if-”

JJ placed her hand on Y/N’s shoulder gently to stop her talking, “You shouldn’t worry at all. And it’s clear to everyone that you two love each other, so I say go for it.”

Y/N looked over to Spencer who looked up from his work and locked eyes with Y/N. Whenever Y/N looked into Spencer’s eyes, it felt like home to her. It brought her a sense of comfort. 

JJ gave Y/N a nudge in Spencer’s direction. Y/N broke eye contact with Spencer for a brief moment to look back at JJ. 

“Ask him out.” She mumbled.

Y/N smiled slightly before heading over to Spencer. He watched her walk over every step of the way, a smile stretching across his own face. As she got to his desk, Spencer moved his chair backwards slightly so Y/N had room to perch on the side of his desk. 

“You nearly finished your work?” Y/N questioned.

“Yeah, I’ve got a couple more files to go through but I’m pretty much done. What are you asking?”

JJ walked past Spencer’s desk and stood behind him and mouthed to Y/N, ‘Ask him out’

Y/N briefly glanced at JJ before looking back at Spencer, “I was just wondering if you wanted to do something? With me. After work,” Y/N paused for a moment, “Like a date?”

Spencer didn’t react at first which caused a surge of panic to flow through Y/N. It wasn’t until a small smile appeared on his face when the panic dispersed. 

“You want to go on a date with me?”

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

Spencer shrugged although the smile was still evident on his face, “I don’t know, I just thought you didn’t like me in that way.”

“Well Dr. Reid, as a matter of fact, I do like you in that way,” Y/N teased, “So what about that date?”

“I would love to go on a date with you Y/N.” Spencer replied.

***

Pain surged through Y/N’s body after she was kicked and beaten. She was sprawled out across the floor. She was alone, her abductor had left her alone a few minutes ago but not after locking the door behind him. Y/N braced herself before lifting her head up from the floor. Y/N had been beaten before, gained a few nasty bruises from different cases but never any this severe. Her whole body was littered in bruises, some were more painful than others but they all hurt nonetheless. 

Despite the pain however, Y/N managed to sit up fully before crawling across the floor to a set of drawers to help pull her to her feet. Even though she was beaten and bruised, she still tried to find an alternate exit. The door that her abductor had exited out of was not an option. The only other exit was the small window. 

Y/N limped over to the window. Her body was crying out to her to stop with every step she took. The window was too far up for her to reach on her own. Frantically, her eyes scanned over the room for something she could stand on to reach the window. There was a rotting wooden crate over in the corner of the room. Y/N scurried over to it before gripping onto it with her hands and pushed it over to the window. As she pushed it, pieces of rotten wood came off and fell to the floor. She only hoped that it could take her weight when she stood on it.

Footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. Y/N immediately stopped pushing the crate and headed back to her place on the floor. With every slight movement, Y/N winced. Just pushing the crate felt like fire was coursing through her veins. 

The abductor came into the room, pulling a chair behind him. He placed the chair legs flat on the floor. He leaned down to grip tightly onto Y/N’s upper arm and pulled her roughly to sit in the chair. He tied her arms to arms on the chair and tied her legs up as well, preventing her from moving. 

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N tried to sound calm, but her voice failed her. She sounded scared and hurt. Just what her abductor wanted. 

Her abductor only smirked before unlocking a drawer behind him. Pulling out many different knives and sharp objects, Y/N felt her breathing hitch. If she was in pain now, she only knew that the pain to come would be unimaginable. 

***

It was a few months into their relationship and Y/N and Spencer couldn’t be happier. Even the team could see their shift in mood. They couldn’t think of anyone more perfect for each other. 

Y/N headed up to Spencer’s apartment. She had been away for a couple of weeks visiting family and she hadn’t seen Spencer at all. Of course they had shared countless phone calls but it wasn’t the same as being with each other physically. Y/N didn’t know but Spencer had been sulking around in Y/N’s absence. The team was glad she was coming back. 

She stood outside his apartment and raised his hand to knock. Y/N had told Spencer that she wasn’t going to be home until the following day, she wanted to surprise him. Her fist made contact with the door as she knocked. The sound echoing. 

Y/N could hear shuffling inside before the door swung open. At first Spencer didn’t process that Y/N was standing in front of him until his eyes went wide.

“Y/N!” He said excitedly. Almost instantly, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Y/N. Her arms wrapped back around him and she let out a giggle when he picked her up from the floor and spun her around. 

“You said you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.” Spencer continued, setting her down on her feet but his arms still wrapped around her.

“I wanted to surprise you.” Y/N mumbled into his shoulder. It felt good to have Spencer in her arms. After two weeks without him, she had missed him immensely. Y/N had never felt this with anyone else before. 

“Consider me surprised.” Spencer mumbled into her hair. 

Spencer pulled away from the hug and pressed his lips to Y/N’s. His hands held onto the sides of her face, fingers becoming tangled in her hair. After two weeks of no contact, Spencer and Y/N’s hands were all over each other. However, before it went any further, Y/N pulled away for a moment. Her hands gripped the front of Spencer’s shirt.

“Let’s move this inside, we don’t want your neighbours to walk out and see something they don’t want to see.” Y/N mumbled before she slowly pushed Spencer back into his apartment, shutting the door behind her. 

***

Y/N was beginning to fall in and out of consciousness. If her body was beaten and bruised before, try adding bloody to it. Her body was on fire as she forced herself to stay awake. Every time she shut her eyes, she felt herself begin to drift into an unconscious state. Forcing her eyes open for what Y/N felt like was the hundredth time, she felt her abductor plunge a knife into her leg, causing Y/N to yell out in pain. 

“Stay awake.” He hissed. 

Y/N stared the abductor in the eyes before it felt like a black curtain was drawn on her vision. She was unconscious. 

***

Y/N and Spencer were four years into their relationship and they were going stronger than ever. Most of Y/N’s friends envied their relationship - it was perfect. What most people were surprised by however, was the fact that Y/N L/N hadn't become Y/N Reid yet. The couple was questioned multiple times on when they were getting married but the two always avoided the subject.

It wasn’t until Penelope demanded the two an answer as to why they weren’t married yet was when they finally answered. 

“We don’t want our relationship to fall apart after marriage.” Y/N answered honestly. 

Everyone around the table was shocked by the answer. They had never seen a more perfect couple in their lives. Of course this caused even more questions to be thrown in the couple’s direction. Some of which the couple couldn’t answer because they simply didn’t have one. 

“You two just need to get married then have kids so I can be the godmother.” Penelope spurted out.

“Woah, slow down there Penelope,” Y/N chuckled, “And getting married just wasn’t one of our number one priorities.”

Even though Y/N said that getting married wasn’t one of their top priorities, the team began to ask questions about their perfect wedding. To which Y/N and Spencer answered honestly, a small wedding with close friends and family. The team, of course, took their answers into account and a couple of weeks later, Y/N L/N became Y/N Reid.

The couple couldn’t be happier.

***

The pain Y/N was feeling was horrendous. Her abductor had left and hadn’t come back in a while but she was too weak to even attempt to free herself. Y/N tried to go to her happy place several times but she couldn’t help but focus on the pain. 

There were several times when she wished that her abductor would come back to finish off the job so she didn’t have to go through the pain any longer. But Y/N was determined to get back to her friends and Spencer. 

A couple of weeks ago, Y/N and Spencer had spoken about starting a family. They had been together for years and it was getting to the point where they wanted to expand their family of two to a family of three. Of course, their job was a main factor as to why they hadn’t started a family yet but now they felt like it was the right time to. Y/N wasn’t going to die before she let that happen. 

Y/N had lost count on how long she had been tied to the chair for but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. She was sure that the team were doing all they could to try and find her so Y/N held on to hope. 

It felt like Y/N had been sitting in the chair for forever before she heard movement coming from somewhere downstairs. She panicked, thinking it was her abductor coming back. It wasn’t until she heard a voice when the panic was replaced with utter joy. 

“Y/N has to be here, search the entire house.” It was the voice of Emily Prentiss. 

Y/N tried to call out to try and signal her location but her throat was scratchy and dry, she doubted anyone could hear her. Footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and Y/N desperately struggled in the chair despite the pain she was in. She was going to be saved. 

The door handle to the room jiggled. Y/N let out a small gasp before trying to shout again, it was quiet but she was sure the person on the other side had heard her.

“She’s in here!” The voice yelled and Y/N's heart swelled. It was Spencer.

The door was busted open and Spencer rushed into the room. His eyes filled with worry as he took in Y/N’s appearance. He rushed over and immediately began to untie her, shouting that he needed a medic. 

Y/N felt tears stream down her cheeks as Spencer helped her out of the chair and laid her down on the floor. He bent over her and gently wiped her tears away. Y/N brought her hand up to his face and held his cheek lightly. She offered him a small smile, “You found me.” She said weakly before falling into an unconscious state. The sound of Spencer calling her name echoed in her mind. 

***

Y/N felt someone gripping onto her hand, tight enough so she knew it was there but gently enough to not cause her any pain. From what she could tell she was in an ambulance as with every turn it made, the ambulance jerked slightly. 

Y/N began to open her eyes slowly. Her head was tilted slightly to the left so the first thing she saw when her eyes opened was Spencer. His eyes were brimmed with redness and he looked flushed. Y/N followed his arm down to his hand that was clutching onto hers. She gave it a small squeeze. 

Spencer’s head snapped up to meet Y/N’s gaze. He smiled seeing her awake again. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Y/N tried to speak but her gas mask was muffling her words. Spencer reached forward and lightly took it away from her mouth. Even though her face was bruised and bloodied, Y/N still looked like the most beautiful girl in the world to Spencer. 

“When I’m healed,” Y/N started, “I want to start working on that family we were talking about.”

Spencer smiled before bringing her hand up gently to meet his lips, “I think we can do that.”

Throughout her life Y/N was always told that whenever something bad happened to her, she should go to her happy place. Spencer Reid was Y/N’s happy place - and perhaps a few months down the line, she would have another person to be her happy place.

[vikkirosko]

Hear me out Yandere Kenny McCormick

🧡 Yandere! Kenny McCormick x Reader headcanons 🐀

Kenny liked you for a long time. He flirted jokingly with you, but you never took his flirting seriously, although his feelings for you were more than serious. He loved you very much, even to the point of obsession. He was willing to do a lot for the sake of your reciprocity

You were popular with others and many people tried to flirt with you. Kenny didn't like it. He didn't want anyone else to get you. Kenny loved you more than life and was ready to do anything for you. He was sure that no one else could love you as much as he did

Every time Kenny saw someone flirting with you, he couldn't stand by quietly. He interfered in your conversations, shifting all your attention to himself. Some of your admirers decided to teach him a lesson when you were not around, but Kenny did not think to run away from fights. He fought without fear that he would die. He was ready to take his rivals to the grave with him, but unlike them, he will return

The more often he drove away your admirers, the more jealous he became. He felt that he shouldn't let them get you. The only way to do that was to get you earlier. To do this, he was ready to use any methods. He had nothing to lose

Kenny kidnapped you. He broke into your house under the cover of night and kidnapped you. He locked you in a completely unfamiliar place. You were scared. When you saw Kenny, you were sure that he would help you escape from here. You considered him your friend and could not even think that he would be your abductor. You begged him to let you go, but he just smiled gently and said that he loves you very much. He kissed you, taking away your first kiss. He won't let you go for anything. He's ready to die a million times but he won't let you go for anything

[hawks-is-kinda-chicken-little]

Voicemail: Part 3

Hawks x reader 

A/n: I swear I am alive, I'm just getting my shit together for college. Anyways have my half-assed attempt at a story plot. I stopped here because I'm going through sad hours and that was really going to affect the rest of the story if I continued, I mean it still might be i’m not sure. No clue how gently I feel like being to everyone's feelings for the last chapter (don’t worry I make myself suffer too).

Part 1

Part 2

-Part 3-

Part 4

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Not alive at least. They never come back alive.”

Hawks may not have been in the facility anymore, but he could still hear the words through the speaker. After all feathers weren’t the only thing he inherited from the avian species. In-fact, a lot of predatory bird-like qualities were passed down to him, none of which were proving to be any aid.

Endeavor exited the facility talking to some of the other heroes who were caring for the two children. He looked towards the clouds watching the desperate hero who was barely able to flap his wings in a steady momentum to keep him airborne. Twitching here and there causing his flow to stutter. Feathers puffed up clearly agitated, but some others sharpened to a dangerous level. It was truly a pitiful sight. From the looks of it, Hawks was nowhere near ready to calm down. Hands were shaking while switching from clenching to unclenching, desperately wanting to hold on to something. Nail marks were indented in the palms of his gloves. Anxiety and agony evidently overriding every morsel of reason that survived up to this point.  His eyes never stopped searching, gaze switching from place to place as light-speed. Endeavor could practically taste the burning red rage sourly seething through Hawks every movement. But, nothing Endeavor could say would bring Hawks from his agitated state. He had to let it fly its course. Only then would Endeavor be able to pull him back to one of the agencies where they could recuperate. 

Lucky for the heroes, they had detained all the henchmen left to guard the facility. They might be able to strangle some information out of them. But, it was kinda strange that the main man would leave them there knowing that the heroes were en-route. However, as Rumi noted, leaving those men there perfectly diverted their attention from the escaping vehicle. A smart move on the abductors part. 

The League was pretty pissed about the whole shebang. Torturing the earlier captured men in a more gruesome manner out of pure rage. In doing so, one of them squeaked about some sort of airport. Oh, now those two were in even deeper shit. Dabi was nice enough to inform Hawks about this new information though. Calling him over for a nice group beating. 

“That’s all I know swea- ack” 

Smack!

Blood splattered the ground, painting over old splotches littering the place. 

Crack! 

One of many bones to be shattered but the blunt head of the bat.

“I’ll ask this one for time- What fucking airport?”

Silence. 

Crack!

“Hawks, the guys’ gonna be dead before you get an answer, or at least a feasible one,” Dabi grunted. 

“Fucking hell,” Hawks cursed, slinging the blood dripping bat to the side of the room with an echoing thud as the wood teetered from end to end until it settled. Hands shooting to clench his golden locks in an iron grip. He squatted to the floor, head hanging low, trying to fight the urges of a predator whose prey sits before them utterly helpless. 

A scarred hand grabbed Hawks’ shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Hawks shifted his head slightly, just enough so that he could eye Dabi's own eyes from the side. So many emotions swirled within those baby blue pools of fire. Remorse, agitation, worry, and so much more, all together forming a dangerous poison. A poison which would make poor souls scream in agony for death. Something Keigo would be glad to provide. 

Now the two might now get along most of the time, but when facing a common goal, they are not a pair to be trifled with. 

The men in the chairs started struggles in the ropes that tied them to the splintering chair. Pulling hopelessly with all their might, but to no avail. Dabi and Hawks shifted their eyes to the bastards in front of them. 

The hand, not on Hawks’ shoulder, was raised to the man's face level, resting inches away. Smoke began flaring from Dabi’s scared palm, small blue flames flickered around the heel as it heated up. The heat alone was enough to singe the man’s facial hair. Terror welled in the man’s expression as the hand was brought closer, making him whimper.

“Let's try this again.”

Horrid fumes of burnt flesh swirled throughout the air. The man was a tough one to crack, Dabi knew he would come around, he just needed a little encouragement. They got the information they wanted him. Hawks had pity on the bastard, taking a feather, slitting his throat with one quick slash. The other man could do nothing but watch as his comrade bleed out.  

“Don’t worry pal, my boss has plans for you.”

No matter how much he tried to scream all that would come out was muffled sludge blocked by the gag. Dabi, patted his ashy hand on the man’s head before walking towards the door with Hawks following on his heels. The man’s thrashing only increased as he door slammed closed, leaving him with the freshly fried corpse of the other one.

“What’s the plan from here?” Dabi asked.

“If they wanted to sneak on the plane unnoticed, they would have to do it at night, when no one else could potentially spot them.”

“It's a private jet though.”

“Yes, but the guys said it was being held with other private jets.”

“Whatever, your dumbass logic gives me a headache sometimes.”

Twice popped out around the corner where they were talking.

“Please don’t screw each other in the lobby.”

“Twice, what the hell. I would rather set myself on fire.”

Hawks gave Dabi an offended glare. Dabi in return rolled his eyes, walking away from Hawks. 

“Just hurry up. Go get your boy scout in line and save her already”

“Who said I was doing this as a hero?”

Dabi halted, back facing Hawks. A smirk tugged at the corners of his charred lips as his eyes darkened. 

“You don’t have the balls to fly that far from the nest bud. Your stupid heroes commission the only things you truly value in society.”

Hawks glared, but held his tongue. Dabi glared back with just as much hatred taking a couple of steps back towards the winged hero. 

“That damned heroes commission seems to be the only thing you seem to stay faithful to.”

“What the Hell does that mean?” Hawks squawked.

“It means you are more likely to leave her for the vultures before ignoring your duties to those shitholes. Oh, wait a second, that's exactly what you did.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really now? So let me get this straight, you didn’t push her away, become a complete asshole to her because of them. Hawks at the end of the day all that matters in that brainwashed head of yours is that shitty organisation.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine, let's pretend that it wasn’t the commission pulling the strings. In that case, you are a really shitty person. I mean, you ARE the reason they're in this mess to begin with.” Hawks’ blood ran cold, Dabi gave an exasperated chuckle “What makes you think she even wants YOUR help?” 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh how you harm me with your words.” Dabi mocked 

“Who’s fucking side are you on? Where the hell is this coming from?”

“Let’s be clear about one thing, birdbrain, just because I want her safe doesn’t mean i’m on your side. You fucked up. And that guilt is only because you feel responsible for her kidnapping, it isn’t because you’re disgusted with all the shit you put her through. So listen when I say-”

“No, you listen here, asshole. Do you honestly think I can't see the damage I did? I am not making an excuse for my behavior, looking back I can see how fucked up I was towards her. I was blessed with an angel, I had never in my life been genuinely cared about. I had never been so committed to someone, so attached to another person. Someone who felt the exact way as I did. It was terrifying.” Hawks paused face falling downwards, scrunching up to fight away the tears building up. “I didn’t have the balls to face her as time went on, so I did what I did best, I put up a front and moved forward. Avoiding our relationship, avoiding her, just because I was scared of commitment. I never bothered to think about the effects it might have had on her. I’m a real douche for doing it and I know it.”

“Shame what it took for you to figure that out.” 

There was nothing sympathetic in Dabi’s tone, no, it was as sour as biting into a ripe bitter melon. Hawks said nothing, he was right after all.

“Go home Keigo. You're not welcome here right now.”

Dabi watched as Hawks turned and walked to the door. Waiting till he was about to close the door on his way out to let out one final stab.

“Oh and Keigo,” Hawks paused “when she’s safe, hope she realizes you’re not worth it.”

SLAM!

Dabi was pretty sure Hawks broke some of the hinges when he shut it behind him.

“Bastard,” He muttered, clearly not into Hawks’ delinquent behavior. Dabi stomped off to the bar to talk to the others about what to do next.

What the actual fuck, Hawks thought as he took off into the dusk set skies. Yes, he knows he screwed this up, Dabi didn’t need to rub it in anymore.

Taking out his phone, Hawks shot a text to Rumi informing her of the newly found information. It was always kind of surprising that no other hero ever questioned where all his exclusive information came from, but oh well. Hawks went straight for the place, not giving anyone time to regroup and set out a plan. It didn’t do much good last time and he wasn’t willing to risk it again. He had an hour or so before the moon set in place, if he was lucky he would make it there before anyone else did. 

Wings soared through the clouds as he scanned the area below, searching for the facility. His sights locked onto a large gated perimeter, surrounding multiple runways connected to a couple of buildings housing the aircrafts. It was one of the many private airports in Tokyo, a place where the rich kept their collection of aircrafts. Hawks descended to a large window in the center of the middle building in the facility. The place seemed to be more of a showcase then anything, some of the jets looked like there were fresh out of manufacturing. 

The place looked empty, no sign of any life in the facility. If it wasn’t for his abnormal vision he would be able to see anything in the pitch black room. No gates or doors were open,  no runway lights shined behind him, no unusual vehicles were in sight. So either he beat everyone here, or he’s got the wrong place. 

He was about to take back off into the sky when he spotted a jet that matched the description the man gave him. A sleek black metal covering, twelve square windows spaced evenly on each side of the jet’s middle, matte silver nose, blood red paint rimming the edges of the wings. It was big enough to carry a small army. The jet seemed a little out of place next to all the smaller, more compact aircraft.

It was clear the jet had yet to be tampered with. They must be waiting till the moon was at its highest to hide their escape. If that was the case they would be there for another hour or so meaning Hawks could have a look around the place. Maybe sabotage the plane enough that it might not function properly. 

Using a feather Hawks carves out a circle into the glass, just big enough that he could fight through and not get stuck. The tricky part was putting the glass back into place so that the bastards weren’t suspicious of the giant whole in the window. But, he managed to do it with only a couple of close calls.

Though he was alone, Hawks still had to be careful nonetheless. Fingers felt around the side of his goggles in search of the night vision button. However, a glowing group of infrared blobs that only grew bigger by the second appeared in his sights. With great haste Hawks hide in the cramped empty space behind one of the two stairwells one either side of the balcony of the window. The tight squeeze forced his wings to fold into uncomfortable positions against the base of his back. 

It stopped right outside the giant corridors leading out to the building runway. While his the blurriness of the image made it hard to fully make out he counted seven or nine of the now van sized blobs. The one in the middle was to first to make any sort of move, a panel sliding to the side as figures exited the vehicle. Others to the right and left followed suit. All filing out into the open, crowding to the center one. Though all the bodies it was he could barely make out a body hauled out onto the ground next to boxes gathered for the other vans. His attention was so zeroed in on the limp body that he didn’t notice the dozen or so figures heading for the corridor. 

CREEEEAAAAK!!

The heavy metal scraped against the asphalt as it was forcefully pried open by the figures. They didn’t fully peel the doors back though, only enough so that a couple of men could head in. About six men entered the dark area, flashlights swinging around in search of anything intruder. Hawks scrunched farther into the wall, missing the beams of the one of them by millimetres allowing him to go unnoticed by the men. The continued their inspection, not very thoroughly Hawks noted, until they each gave a thumbs up signally to the others nothing was out of place.

“All clear,” One of them yelled out behind.

All six men then approach the designated aircraft. Hawks wanted to bang his head on the wall from his own stupidity, since he chose the staircase opposite of the plane. 

He let out a quiet hiss of frustration; “dammit.”

Biting the inside of his cheek he started trying to devise a plan. Maybe, just maybe, he could sneak some feathers inside to take them out. So he did just that, sending one feather for each man and one extra just in case. 

The men had clearly let their guard drop as they focused on their tasks. He had no problem maneuvering the feathers around them as they worked. Two men were in the cockpit, two in the carriage, one taking storage in the backroom, and the last of the six was making his way to the single bathroom of the aircraft.

The man made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his pants before pulling out a phone and doing some unspeakable things that made Hawks want to vomit in his tiny corner. The poor guy had no clue that he was going to be the first to go, Hawks literally caught the bastard with his pants down. A mental note was made to just leave the dagger in his chest, after everything he just witnessed with that feather there was no way he wanted it back in his plumage. 

One down, five to go and next up was the storage guy. A feather hovered right above the back of the guy as he checked off boxes on his clipboard. Moving forward, but still sticking to the wall in order to give the feather a better angle to slash his neck. However, the bright colors contrasted with the white wall, catching the attention of the man.

“What the fuc-”

Swish

It sliced through the air, not giving the man any time to process the situation. Hands instinctively flew to his throat in a pathetic attempt to stop the life escaping him. Bright red blood seeped through the cracks between his fingers, leaking down his front as he wobbled on his feet. The harsh thud of a body crashing to the floor never sounded through the air as the feather slipped down the back of his shirt to guide him quietly to the ground. Once he was laid out noiselessly on the now red stained ground the feather took off to regroup. 

They all stayed as flat as paper against the slick interior of the plane, making sure never to be in the line of sight. Three feathers arrived at their next destination, the passenger section. The two men were just goofing off. Neglecting their assigned duties in favor of gossiping like highschool girls. Hawks could help the twitching of his upper lip, sharp canines baring each time the muscles spasmed. Sexist comments were slurred back and forth between them as they talked about his dove. Feral instincts screamed at him torture them till they were pleading for death. But, he needed to keep his composure or else risk getting caught and that was not something he could really afford right now. 

The feathers slithered down the aisle when the assholes turned their backs to one another. One feather took off to lock the cockpit hatch from the outside, making the two on the inside unable to interrupt Hawks. Both the men were facing the side wall of the aircraft making it easy to string two feathers into position to swoop up and dispose of them just like like the now rotting corpse in the storage compartment. 

Swish

Hawks really wished he could have prolonged their suffering, but he had more important matters to worry about, unlike those sexist bastards. Oh well, he would just have to be sure to spit on their corpses later. 

The last two in the cockpit worked to get the carrier up and running. Hawks could hear them from the two feathers locking inside with them as they ran their diagnostics. Just as the feathers were about to capture their lives the roaring of an engine coming to life sounded throughout the facility. Blinding bright headlights buzzed on pointing to the corridors as if asking to be let out. 

CREEEEAAAAK

Hawks peered over the corner of the wall hiding him, he saw more men pulling the door fully apart to make way for the giant aircraft. With all the new lighting Hawks had to turn off the night vision mode on his goggles so he could see. Through the orange tint of his lenses he could spot [y/n]’s limp body laying on her side facing him through the legs of the surrounding guards. Her whole body looked as though they just threw her to the asphalt from the van door.  A grimy brown sack covered her head that hung to the floor slightly supported by the shoulder on the ground unnaturally scrunched up by her neck. He could see the raw skin surrounding the bonds tightly wired around her bare wrists. What really unnerved him was the slow unsteady half-rise of her chest every so often. He doesn’t know if it was due to the bag covering her airway or the utterly traumatized state of her body, but it wasn’t hard to tell her lungs were starting to give way. There was no way in Hell she would make it through the plane ride. She needed medical attention and she needed it fast.

The shifting of wheels brought Hawks out of his panic as the aircraft propellers spun around in place,  making the plane go forward ever so slightly. It stopped one it was centered with the doors in the front of the facility. If he slashed his feathers upon them it would surely arm the onlookers. Eyes once again shifted to the body of his dove.

Helpless. He couldn’t make a move without stirring up their attention. And if they threatened her, there wasn’t even a sliver of a chance he would make it in time. 

TING

The sound echoed out from his pocket. The phone vibrated letting out another sound to alert him of a notification. 

Hawks’ heart dropped to the ground as everything around him moved in slow motion. Heads took their time spinning in his direction when in reality they snapped his way in milliseconds. 

He didn’t have time to look at his phone as bullets flew his way. Faster than ever, he took to the air, dodging the oncoming hellfire. Since all was turning to shit, the two cockpit feathers slashed the hell out of the men inside with zero mercy whatsoever. Using some spare feathers he sent them lashing at the tires preventing their second escape. He’d rather be plucked for everything he was worth before letting them get away again, especially not when they were so close.

His earpiece rang to life as he wound through the air. 

“What the fuck is happening” a harsh feminine voice that sounded like Rumi screamed from the other side.

“Shit hit the fan, send help.”

That was all he could say before getting nailed in the right shoulder. Wings stuttered in shock, but adrenaline pushed them to keep flapping. 

“Hawks!” She called.

He could barely hear her through the blazing bullets piercing through the air.

“Heading….. Minutes…… Endeavor…… Way.”

Static cut out sentences leaving him with only a couple of words from the other line. He didn’t have time to decode the meaning though.

In the midst of frantic maneuvering a blast of fire hit the window behind him sending him flying forward as a bullet lodged itself in his right thigh.

“Friendly fire!” He screamed behind him. 

Now shit was really hitting the fan, Hawks thought to himself as he looped through the new hole created by none other than Endeavor. He made his way to the top of the building, the roof partially deflecting some of the ammunition flying at light speed. A new wave of confidence gassed his system with the brigade of heroes quickly approaching from behind.

“I know I annoy you, but do ya really need to fry me right now?”

Endeavor only grunted as he landed next to the winged hero, Rumi was soon to join them. The bullets had ceased to pierce the air for a moment, Hawks could hear the head guy yelling at his underlines like an abusive dog owner. Naturally they tried to retreat to their vehicles, but found the tires were lacerated enough that they were rendered useless. The yell turned into hushed whispers. 

All heroes crowded up onto the roof, hastily devising a plan that would hopefully let them safely extract the beaten girl. Time was ticking fast as two beautiful lives were draining from the mother's body every wasted second. They needed to make a move and they needed to do it now. 

“Fuck plans”

“Hawks don’t be rash” 

Endeavor could get fucked by fire for all Hawks cared. He was going in sending flocks of lethal feathers to shred them while he used the remaining feathers to take to the sky. 

It only escalated from there on. Quirks were activated from both ends, but the heroes had to be careful, they may have the upper hand power wise, but the enemies had a hostage. Hawks could see his dove start to stir among all the commotion, but his attention was quickly redirected as a first sent him flying into a wall.

In the midst of the battle one of the lackey’s managed to discreetly snag [y/n] and a couple of the packages into a small aircraft. All which were messily tossed into the back of the cargo compartment before jumping in the control seat. All engines were a go and it was off to the runway from there, splattering some of his comrades into the pavement on the way. Hawks wasn’t having it though, redirecting all of the feathers slashing around to chase the jet as it wobbled in the sky.

“Your feathers are going to do jackshit, GO!” Rumi encouraged, no longer holding back. 

That was all he needed to hear, as he darted to the air, targeting with pinpoint accuracy.  The door of the storage holder on the side of the jet cracked open. Opening more and more as the pilot tried to steady the plane in the sky. The jet lagged in the sky as it swerved to the side making package after package plummet out. Hawks was tailing the jet, but the pilot kept taking sharp turns to try and lose him. 

Hawks spotted [y/n’s body starting to slip to the edge of the open door. One final turn from the unsteady jet was all it took to send her descending into the air. Hawks immediately dove after her, wings tucking flat to increase his speed, arms stretching out towards her, hands ready to snatch her at the first given chance. 

The ground was approaching uncomfortable fast. [Y/n] was just out of his reach, fingertips brushing against her own. 

His wings gave one last flutter against his back, pushing him just far enough to reach her forearm. Hawks latch his hand onto her arm hauling her into his arms before spreading his scarlet wings in an attempt to catch in the air. A hiss passed his lips as the opposing velocity strained the muscles at the base of his wings. 

Just before the hit the ground Hawks caught his bearings, letting them at least land somewhat safely. He stumbled on the turf, the hand that wasn’t holding [y/n] shot out to the ground where he keeled making sure to not fall over onto her. They landed a mile or so from the gates of the airport. 

BOOM!

Hawks watched as sparks erupted from an explosion a little ways from them. Looks like the poor bastard couldn’t fly after all.

His breath was heaving, the adrenaline of the situation still pumping through his body. Lifting his hand from the ground he untied the rope holding the sack over her head, pulling it off, freeing her beaten face. Scarce breaths passed through her cracked lips. 

Hawks was quick to let the rest know he had her. Endeavor let out a sigh of relief through the otherside of the line. Rumi yelled with happiness. When asking about her condition, he was hesitant to say anything, only saying that he was rushing her to urgent care immediately. 

Weakly she stirred in his arms, whimpering as her bound wrist rubbed the harsh unforgiving rope peeling her already raw skin. Hawks plucked a feather, slashing her wrist and ankle constraints, finally setting her aching limbs free. Tears welled in his eyes, partly because she was now in his arms once again and partly because she was suffering in his arms.

“Shhhhh, baby bird, I’m gonna get you some help okay?” 

He couldn’t tell if she heard him, but he wasn’t going to bother waiting for a reply. Wings spread behind him once more, screaming at him from pure agonizing torture they had already suffered. Limbs burned, fire setting every vein ablaze with even the slightest of moments. 

All it took once one more heart wrenching soft cry passing her lips to get the adrenaline rushing again. No wound or pain could hold him down as he flapped his wings aggressively through the thin air. He kept staggering up to the clouds and low to the ground. It was definitely not his smoothest flight, but it was doing the job. She was held securely in a tight embrace against his chest. One of his hands gently caressed her cheek with the thumb in an attempt to pass her his wordless love. 

Some of the feathers started to give from those once giant eyes. Every feather lost was another piece of [y/n] drifting to the light of eternal rest. She was a rose that was slowly shedding its abused petals, wilting from the mortal world. 

Hawks could see the hospital in his sights, in his moment of overwhelming relief he almost hit the ground, but luckily he was able to bring them both up just in time. 

White doors slammed over as a body crashed onto the hospital lobby tile. The receptionist rushed over to the counter spotting the hero, wings clings around his front to cushion their landing. Looking at the lady in scrubs he lifted one of his wings revealing the beaten woman he cradled to his chest. The lady screamed for help as doctors and nurses flooded the room. A stretcher was brought in as [y/n] was carted into one of the back rooms, nurses flocking the stretcher trying to assess her state. 

A separate stretcher was brought in for him. A light smile graced his face as he watched them take care of her while they hauled him onto the cart. One of the nurses was trying to ask him questions, but he paid them no mind, only watching his dove.

The smile quickly faded as he saw more doctors dash to her room, panicked expressions present on each of their faces. He tried to stay awake, he tried to hear what was going on, but the last thing he heard was a doctor yelling one word that echoed in his ears even as he lost touch with reality.

“CLEAR!”

Then everything went black.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Also I want to thank you all for reading this, it makes me so happy. I literally cried at all the love you all gave the first chapter. I wish I was kidding I actually cried.

TAGS:

@assassinslittlesister @anxiousgoddest @moonpawss @regularkacchan @austriasmariazelle @murkyrosewrite @hawksexual @imuziawi

[skmhlml]

Hello!

I think the guy from stay out of the house is so cute! I love your fanfic that you made of him😭😫 so I was wondering if you could make a fanfic of like when you meet his mother or like just a little moment when he talks to us or just stares at us honesty I’ll take him what ever he does 😏

I got chu bbg, let me take care of you🍵

🔪 Okay, so you’re barely holding it together after being dragged into his creepy big ass house, getting ringing wars from the loud alarms and almost bleeding out because of the best traps for ‘your own safety’, and now you meet his mom…

🔪 His mom is giving off major “old horror movie villain” vibes. you feel her watching your every move, but you can’t tell if she hates you or if she’s weirdly proud her son brought someone home. “Oh, finally, a guest,” she’d say, with the creepiest smile.

🔪 There’s this awkward, suffocating tension in the air—his mom asks you questions like, “Do you like blood?” and “Are you a good cook?” (Ma’am, I’m a hostage not a house wife)

🔪 Imagine being in a dimly lit, dingy room, with the Butcher sitting across from you. He’s not saying a word, just staring at you. it’s not normal staring. it’s that intense, unsettling, you’re mine look. (freaky ah.)

🔪 You’d think it’s creepy (and, well, it is), but you can’t help but feel like he’s silently worshipping you, like his mind is filled with all the ways he’s going to keep you safe. His way of safe is terrifying…

🔪 Sometimes, when you catch him staring, you’ll nervously ask, “What are you thinking about?” and he won’t answer. The same weird, possessive look will remain on his face, but his breathing may become heavier, as if your presence overwhelms him.

🔪 You’d also catch him standing outside the door sometimes, just waiting. Not knocking or trying to come in. Just standing there. And the thought of him doing it for hours? Yeah, you kinda get chills, but at the same time, you wonder if he’s standing guard or just… obsessed.

🔪 You catch him watching you while you sleep. Not just from across the room, standing over your bed, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. He’ll stay like that for hours without blinking. Sometimes, he might whisper something low and unintelligible, like a twisted mantra only he understands.

🔪 Sometimes, he’ll just snatch your wrist. Not forcefully, but firmly, as if he’s reminding you that he’s right there. It’s his way of saying “Don’t forget about me” without having to say a word.

🔪 when you’re sitting together in this painful silence, he’ll reach out and touch your hair, just sort of running his fingers through it. It’s weirdly gentle like he’s afraid to hurt you.

🔪 If you even think of escaping, he knows. You don’t know how, but he always senses it. The first time you tried, he didn’t say a word—just caught you mid-act, his grip on your arm so tense it hurt. He hauled you back, hurled you into the dim room, in the human-sized cage, and locked the door. For days, you weren’t sure if he was going to let you eat or if you were going to make it out alive. But you did.

🔪 When he catches you hesitating or staring too long at the door, he’ll remind you what happens to those who leave him. He doesn’t have to say anything; a quick glance at his knife collection or the blood-stained rags in the corner does the talking for him.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Lunar | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 1134

A/N: Honestly this is more just an extended headcanon than an actual fic. (I’d suggest reading the headcanons first, but no pressure) It takes place pretty much any time after the middle of season 11, excluding the half a season Reid was in jail. Whether this was pre- or post-prison Spencer is up to you.

GALAXY MASTERLIST

Warnings: tiny mention of alcohol, tiny spoilers for 3x16 (Elephant’s Memory)

Alexa Lisbon had always dreamed of planning her high school class reunions. It was entirely the reason she ran for student body president. Getting to host an event that would be fondly remembered by her classmates for years to come was always the goal.

Standing in the banquet room of the country club, this year’s was already better than she had imagined it. She watched as guests filled the room, people she hadn’t seen in years looking more mature than when they had walked across the stage at graduation. One person in particular had really grown up, though Alexa presumed it was because he was actually 12 the last time she had seen him.

“Is that Spencer Reid?” Harper Hillman gawked from Alexa’s side, a glass of champagne in her hand. Spencer was taller now, but less scrawny. His chin hinted at a five o’clock shadow, and his jawline was so sharp Alexa was sure she would cut herself on it.

Never in a million years did she think she would be attracted to Spencer Reid.

She wondered if he was single, something else she had never expected herself to think about the man. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but she watched as you came to stand next to him. You looked comfortable at his side, Alexa wondered if you were together. If you were, you didn’t show it.

Even from across the room, Spencer was radiating awkwardness. That much hadn’t changed, Alexa noticed. She kept watching, waiting for either one of you to show affection to confirm her theory but it never came.

Instead, Spencer became tense and kept glancing at your feet. You were much more relaxed, seemingly reassuring him though your eyes kept flickering around the room. Alexa wondered what you two were talking about, your lips moving too fast for her to read them.

“Let’s go over there,” she said to Harper, walking towards the pair.

“Of all the things you’ve learned from Hotch-”

“It’s Vegas, Spence. I’m sure I’m not the only one-” whatever conversation you were having stopped abruptly when she approached.

“Spencer! I’m so glad you could make it,” Alexa hoped he didn’t remember her involvement in the shenanigans that had occurred while they were in high school.

“Alexa, Harper, nice to see you,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets with a tight-lipped smile, “(y/n), this is Alexa Lisbon and Harper Hillman.”

You hesitated for only a minute before reaching out to shake their hands, “this is her, Spence? ‘The prettiest girl in the whole school?’ It’s an honor,” you were clearly teasing him, a wicked grin stretched across your face. Spencer shifted uncomfortably next to you, it was endearing, Alexa thought.

“She was,” Harper confirmed next to her, “now she’s the prettiest woman in the PTA.”

“You have kids?” you asked. Alexa still wasn’t sure what your relationship with Spencer was, but you seemed genuinely interested. If anything, you knew how to talk to people.

“Two, Jaxxon and Oaklynn. Do you have any kids?” she prompted, looking at Spencer.

“Spencer has three Godsons,” you laughed, “he works too much to have kids of his own. Sometimes I come into the office and he’s been there all night.”

Your bright energy confused Alexa. Spencer clearly knew you were joking, smiling fondly at you, but he hadn’t said a word since introducing her to you. He had never been the best at reading social cues, and yet he looked so comfortable with you even with your exceptional people skills.

“So you work together?” Alexa dared.

“We’re FBI agents for the Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Spencer licked his lips and sighed as you spoke. Alexa found herself wondering what else his mouth could do.

“FBI Agents?” Harper wasn’t convinced, so you reached into your pocket and pulled out your credentials, showing the two women.

“We profile serial killers, child abductors, terrorists, and the like. Then we find them and arrest them. It’s 100% legit,” you said, pocketing the creds.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t picture Spencer Reid arresting a serial killer.”

The fire in your eyes was so strong Alexa took half a step back as you turned quickly to square up with Harper.

“He’s one of the best agents on our team. Nobody can talk down a suspect like he can. And actually it’s Doctor Spencer Reid. He has more PhD’s than you will ever be close to in your life,” you spit. You probably would have kept going if Spencer hadn’t grabbed your arm.

“(y/n),” he warned.

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” Harper asked.

“I’m his spouse, Supervisory Special Agent (y/n) (y/l/n).”

Alexa wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it definitely was not that.

“And if you know what’s good for you, Harper Hillman, you will walk away and go find everyone that was on the football team and tell them that Spencer is a better man than they will ever be, and he didn’t have to tie someone to a goalpost naked to do it.”

So he did remember.

“(y/n), I told you not to bring that up,” Spencer shifted his weight, speaking softer, “come on. Let’s go.” You huffed next to him, fidgeting with your left pant leg.

“Spencer,” Alexa called as she watched the two of you start to leave the venue. He turned around, a soft smile on his lips that Alexa felt like she didn’t deserve, “thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome. You did a really great job, Alexa.”

“And, um, I’m sorry for the things we did to you in high school. You were just a kid, you didn’t deserve it.”

“We were all kids. Technically the brain doesn’t stop developing until we’re well into our twenties, and the last part that develops is the prefrontal cortex which is responsible for our personalities-”

“Spencer, as much as I want to let you finish this info dump, Alexa has other things to do than learn about brain function. She’s hosting a whole event, that can’t be easy,” you spoke up next to him for the first time since your outburst.

“I forgive you,” Spencer said sincerely before walking away with you, saying something about how he was “going to tell Rossi you caused trouble exactly like he said not to”, to which you started offering to do his paperwork for the next month if he didn’t.

Spencer Reid had always been a little bit odd. It’s what made him an easy target when they were teenagers. Still, Alexa could see that he had found a place and a person that celebrated his quirks. Alexa thought about her two kids and her messy marriage, her white-picket-fence home and a career she abandoned years ago to become a housewife, and wondered if she would ever be as successful as Doctor Spencer Reid.

GALAXY MASTERLIST

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

Apparently, this is the eighth chapter!

Link to the first one here (for the new readers if there are any)

This one's the longest so far!

Reviews and Comments appreciated. It fuels me to keep on writing. Enjoy!

VIII - Samantha

Samantha felt that she lived for a year inside her dream realm. She was aware that this was all a dream because it wasn't possible that Connor was alive, but then again it pains to see how she's fooling herself with fake memories.

Certain moments while she's walking along the beachside with Connor, he would immediately dissappear, and would never come back until a few more days in her dream. She wondered what time it was outside but all she knew was she kept living the same tragic day again and again and again. She found a loophole though, she prevented him from taking that yacht but would find himself a different situation where he ends up dead. It felt like she was meant to feel extreme sadness from loss.

This wasn't what her captors wanted from her. They wanted 'something she accidentally saw on her father's drawer'. Then it dawned on her, those were numbers and dots separating them, almost like an IP Address. Just as she tried recalling it, thanks to the drug flowing in her bloodstream, the numbers began to slowly melt as a faint smell of cheese wafted around her. With one soft gasp, she found herself awake.

Thick oak trees covered the windows as she turns around the room. She's in a log cabin, but fancier. She slowly ripped her dextrose as she quietly made her way down to the living room. She knows where she is, TV taught her that only the evil people could afford expensive things. Grabbing a medicine tray beside her bed, she slowly descended the stairs, readying herself as she attempted to beat her abductor with an aluminum tray.

Following the scent of melted cheese, she tiptoed across the living room to the kitchen, a man was standing behind the sink. Athletic build and arms sprawled with tattooes. He pretty much looked like Alex, but this one reeks evil.

The loud clang of aluminum rang as she hit her abductor square on the head, knocking him down temporarily dazed. Her eyes slowly opened to reveal Alex, who's rubbing his head and wincing in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Alex. I thought I was still held captive!" She quickly assisted him up and grabbed a bottle of cold water for his head.

Alex was too hurt and surprised to talk but as soon as their eyes met, it almost felt like he wasn't hit by a medicine tray just now.

"You're awake!" was all he said as he hugged her tight. Then he realized, he wasn't supposed to do that. Samantha just sat beside him by the kitchen floor, confused. He immediately let go of his arms and pretended to be still dazed. He was just too overwhelmed to see her okay.

"Is your head okay?" She asked, with an expressionless face. Alex nodded.

"Nothing major. I just need ice maybe."

"Got it." Samantha quickly stood up and opened the fridge. Her warm cheeks couldn't feel the cold breeze. She was blushing hard and staring blankly at the contents of the fridge.

"I think we don't have ice. A cold water bottle would be fine." Alex commented as Samantha snapped back to reality. She remembered she had an injured person to tend to. Quickly grabbing the bottle, she plopped herself beside Alex who groggily found his way to the sofa.

The bump was slightly obvious and Samantha can't help but laugh at him. It was a funny mistake but what matters is that she finally saw him again.

"Where are we?" she asked, tilting her head and looking at Alex trying not to laugh.

"CIA Safehouse 110197" Alex mouthed.

"Which is... where?"

"Classified. Even I don't know where we are." he lied.

"And where are the others?"

"It's actually just you and me." he replied, looking down, his eyes rolled trying to see her reaction. Samantha rolled her eyes somewhere else evading to meet his gaze.

"Great. Guess I have to tend to my mistakes." She quickly got up and went up to the bedroom. Alex simply sat there waiting for her to come back.

"This house is complete. There's actually a medicine box by the bathroom sink!" She exclaimed in excitement as she set her kit and prepared the gauze.

"You'd be surprised on what you can find by the sofas." Alex chuckled and immediately winced in pain as Samantha placed a plaster by his bump.

"You could've said something!" he complained, Samantha just laughed.

"I always wanted to be a doctor..." she said.

"Why didn't you?" Alex shifted his seat and placed the water bottle by the table.

"I can't be a professional doctor while on a fake identity, Alex. You probably knew by now that I'm uh.. redacted? You did scan me when the CIA was here right?" She smirked, making Alex amused and clueless was a beautiful view. If only she had her camera, she'd take a photo of it and pin it by the fridge back at home.

"Yeah. That's right." was all he could say.

Samantha placed her hand by the back rest of the sofa and raised her leg comfortably to the sofa. She was still wearing Alex's clothes from the other night and all Alex could think of is why?

"I'm Samantha Coleman."

"Coleman as in..."

"Yes. The daughter of the Head of National Defense, Richard Coleman."

Alex froze in amazement and the puzzle pieces finally make sense. What's missing now is why they're after her and what's with the memory serum.

"So um... any idea on what they want?" Alex asked, his eyes felt intense and curious. Something Samantha can't help but stare at.

"I guess it's a childhood memory... Of my father's office. They're looking for an IP address... Does it ring any bells?" Samantha explained, her hands fiddled on the sofa's fabric, squeezing it and rubbing her thumbs against it.

"No. But I could relay it to those assigned to the case. It could help a lot." Alex's hands slowly trailed to hers, squeezing it a little bit.

"Thanks for cooperating, Samantha. What you just did may save the lives of those missing." A soft smile escaped his lips. Samantha froze in shock. Maybe it's the sincerity of his face, maybe it's the feel of his hand on hers, maybe it's her heart racing so fast. She wasn't sure why she found herself unable to move or speak.

Awkward silence filled the room, neither one of them moved an inch. The crickets outside sounded louder as the silence grew between them. Then burnt toast filled the air.

They both snapped out of whatever trance they were making, eyes quickly diverted away as Alex removed his hand above hers.

"Oh Crap! The toast!" The CIA agent hurriedly rushed by the kitchen and turned off the oven toaster, showing a very burnt piece of bread.

"You're not supposed to put it on an oven, Alex" Samantha giggled as she assisted him. They quickly became cook and assistant as Alex started to learn something from the expert, whereas Samantha proudly taught him how to make basic breakfast specialties.

"How come you didn't know how to cook?" Samantha asked, pouring oil to the pan.

"We don't usually prepare meals." Alex replied rapidly whisking the eggs, Samantha looked worried that he might break the bowl.

"So what do you eat?"

"Energy bars, ready to eat meals, beef jerky, chicken. You know, the simple stuff but filled with essential nutrients." Alex proudly replied.

"Boooring! You know you should try some of life's greatest meals sometime."

"Someday."

***

Samantha became very comfortable around Alex. Despite her judging him at first glance, she actually enjoyed his company. Over the course of the day, they found themselves mostly talking about every possible thing, leaving an impression that he's really good with people.

It felt warm and fuzzy that the idea of them being alone in one roof felt appropriate. She almost wished they'd end up like this forever, but that meant the criminals are still out there. She wanted to be selfish just for once as she literally gave up her life just to blend in. Would it kill for her to have a good time?

Nighttime came and they settled for barbeque, something Alex claimed he's good at. Samantha watched him from a safe distance as he showed off his cooking skills at her.

He was wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron over his black tank top and camo pants, a sight admirable for her. She found herself a cozy silk spaghetti strap nightgown from CIA's supply box. She just looked at him from the moment he unboxed a dusty grill box until he assembled it fully, asking him questions about his work to which he answers with certain confidentality.

"You hungry?" He asked teasingly as he placed the meat on the grill letting it sizzle as it puffed smoke toward him.

She wanted to say she's hungry, but not for food. But it felt inappropriate, she knew he's with her because it's his job to, but she couldn't help but feel needed. Especially that she spent the last eighteen hours of her life mourning about sad memories.

"So, silence means yes?" Alex tilted his head to meet her gaze. It's that stare once again.

"Uh yeah. Impress me Mr. Chef!" She cheered as they continue talking while they prepare dinner.

As the meat started to become tender, so did their conversation. They slowly diverted the topic to something private.

"Have you been into any relationships before?" Samantha finally asked the question she's dying to ask him. Alex's movements became cautious and his eyes slowly looked at her. He could tell that she's really curious and excited about the question as shown by her widening pupils.

"Yeah. Here and there. They don't last long as I always had to move when reassigned." He replied eating a mouthful of steak.

"So where would you be after all this is over."

"Wherever they'll send me."

"Are you happy with it? Being sent here and there?"

"As long as I could save the world." He smiled. A smile so genuine, Samantha slightly felt goosebumps.

"Cool." She replied, wiping her face with a napkin.

"Thanks for the meal, Mr. Chef. I'll go take a shower and sleep." She stood up, her voice almost felt sad.

"Samantha, wait! Did I say something wrong?" Alex quickly grabbed her hand before she could walk away.

"No. You said everything that I need to know."

Tears start falling out of her eyes, Alex noticed this and wiped it off with his thumbs lifting her chin up to meet his face. She couldn't stare at him, not with those sad eyes.

"Look, I know what you feel, because I feel it too, from the moment our eyes met..." Samantha looked at him.

"...But I can't risk it enough because I know I'll hurt you... I can't show affection to you because after all of this is over I have to leave." Alex stared at her, his words stung more than that needle from yesterday.

"But, you already made an impact in my life. It doesn't matter if we go too far..."

"I can handle the hurt... but you've already lost a lot. I can't let myself be the reason for it." Alex closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

She knew this would happen. Hence the questioning earlier, she wanted to make sure she's right about her suspicions. She was right to resist his charms the moment they met, but then again she took the risk and fell for him. A choice she willingly took.

"I've mourned the loss of my boyfriend for three years. What's a few more for you?" she breathed, almost cracking as she held back a sob. Alex nervously stared at her. She was willing to take the risk of getting hurt, all for s short moment with him.

Alex did the math. If she's true to her words it's a win-win. No more pretending, they'd both be happy and they both accept the impending end as soon as this was all over. What's holding him back is the end of both their promises, but it didn't matter when he let his heart decide for once.

He licked his lips as he slowly kissed her. It was awkward at first but as soon as they both felt comfortable, it felt relieving. Each moan signified the supressed feelings they had toward each other since day one. Each clash of tongue meant hope after years of mourning. It was a kiss that lasted longer than they could remember.

[mementomori-demimonde]

Four Lines

a Miranda Croft x reader journal.

DAY 1 - DAY 2 - DAY 3 - DAY 4 - DAY 5 - DAY 6 - DAY 7 DAY 8 - DAY 9 - DAY 10 - DAY 11 - DAY 12 - DAY 13 - DAY 14 DAY 15 - DAY 16 - DAY 17 - DAY 18 - DAY 19 - DAY 20 - DAY 21 DAY 22 - DAY 23 - DAY 24 - DAY 25 - DAY 26 - DAY 27 - DAY 28

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘮 𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘦. 𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: Ⓜ 𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘖3; 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘣𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺𝘰𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘯

DAY 29

You’re about to doze off when you hear the soft noises coming from beside you. It takes a few seconds to realize exactly where you are - Miranda’s room, not yours - and where you’re sitting, half slouching on a pillow - Miranda’s bed, not yours - a soft blanket draped across your legs.

You get an intake of breath, hardly suppressing a yawn, and turn over the woman laying beside you, shoulder quaking from a coughing fit.

You frown, turning to your side, narrowing your eyes when the bright lights of the dawn seep from the window.

“Miranda?” You call, but she’s stubbornly keeping her eyes close, both arms clutched to her stomach, clearly in pain for the forced seizures of her body.

You reach out for the glass of water, and hurry to help her lift her head, bringing the rim of the glass closer, but not to her lips just yet, to avoid starling her and making a mess on the bed.

“Miranda.” You call her softly, wincing when she covers the sound with another cough. You release a little huff and don’t dare to breathe just eyt when you slide your free hand under her head, fingers splaying on the nape of her neck and diving into the wild mane of dark hair.

You feel your heart skip a beat when she shoots her eyes open, but you don’t know if she’s glaring because she didn’t notice your presence until now if she’s mad that you’re there, or even if she’s vexed that you’re helping her without being requested to do so, but by your own initiative. Her glare, as always, is dangerous, but you can’t help feeling relieved when you peer into those blue eyes and find them completely lacking any bleariness.

“What are you doing?” She hisses, trying to jerk away and only procuring herself more pain, the sudden movement clearly tugging at her wound.

“I’m helping you.” You reply, matter-of-factly. Trying your best, you follow her, inching closer to her mouth with the water, the other hand instinctively gripping firmer on her neck to keep her still. “You did the same with me when I needed it, I’m returning the favor.” You explain, managing to keep a soft voice despite feeling utterly uncomfortable for some unbestowed reason. “You’ll feel better.” You promise.

You wait there, without moving a muscle when you see her struggle to contain another coughing fit. In the end, she gives up reluctantly, accepting the help, latching her lips on the glass and gulping the water greedily.

While she drinks, you take the opportunity and check on her, feeling with your other hand if she has a fever - you worried all night she might have an infection, but you didn’t want to disturb her because you were sure she would wake up at the slightest of touches and you thought it was better for her to rest - and, luckily, she seems to be fine. You can scratch that off the list.

You slowly part from her, guiding her head back on the pillow and you both relax.

“Thank you.” She croaks out, clearing her throat as her coughs finally subside.

You stare at her, hardly concealing a surprised smirk: in all those days of forced coexistence, she hasn’t talked to you with anything but smugness and sufficiency, her voice teetering from crude and threatening, to soft and tempting but never ceased to preserve a bitter aftertaste of danger.

Yesterday she said she was sorry, and there was nothing concealed under the melancholic smile she gave you.

Today she thanked you, and still, there was nothing beneath the quivering in her voice.

If you thought you could ever reach out to her, hoping she wouldn’t slip away once more, that was the moment: with her guard down, perhaps it was the first time you’re allowed to see Miranda - the small, vulnerable bit that you don’t know how long it’ll stay without the mask being pulled up again.

You watch her eyes flutter close, and for a moment you squirm on your spot, genuinely surprised she would even let you stay right where you are without prompting nor barking any order. You could be mistaken, but she seems comfortable, or even content, to know that you’re there. Are you getting ahead of yourself again? It was now or never, no more messing around.

Here goes nothing.

“How’s the wound?” You inquire.

Miranda remains unbothered; you watch her clutch her arms on her abdomen almost protectively, wincing before settling down.

“Why do you even care?” She exhales, her features unchanging.

Is her wall back up again already?

You shrug, even if you’re aware that she won’t see you.

“I care.” You reply simply.

She scoffs.

“You don’t mean that.” She states without assumption, and there’s the shadow of a mockery grin on her lips.

You swallow. She’s right: you shouldn’t care, and yet there you are, sitting legs crossed on the bed of your abductor, the same woman who tortured you, sliced you, hit you several times, all the while remaining a mystery; there you are, after spending the night dozing in and out, whipping your head up at every subtle noise she made or at the slightest shift of her body; there you are, yearning to finally tear that veil that still cloaks her, shielding her from you, keeping you inevitably apart.

Will you ever have the courage? Will she ever let you in?

“I care.” You echo yourself, voice cold and stubborn, crossing your arms over your chest. Again, she scoffs. “How’s the wound?” You insist, feeling the muscles on your forehead twitch as you struggle not to frown because honestly, you’re feeling like a petulant child protesting for being denied the object of desire. You simply long to know - is it really too much to ask? Too utopistic to accomplish, the knowledge to put your heart at ease?

Miranda lies still, you feel fire rising inside your chest. In one, swift movement, you reach out for her hand to peel it off her stomach and actually take a look, but of course you were not swift enough, nor quick enough, and instead of grabbing her hand, it is Miranda the one who grabs your wrist instead, preventing you from touching her by a hair.

Blue eyes sparkle in yours, her jaw tightens and so does her hold, her fingers squeezing to the impossible, digits digging into her flesh and gripping at your bones. You let out a pant, determined not to manifest the pain she’s eliciting, but that only spurs her to squeeze more.

“Don’t be annoying.” She warns, snarling between her teeth. “Want me to give you a wound to occupy yourself with?”

The threat should make shivers crawl up your spine, but instead, you find yourself staring at her, unfaltering, even though you know she could keep her promise: even if debilitated, she could hurt you in ways you can’t even phantom. You know she could, but you know she won’t - somehow.

“You want to break my wrist? Go ahead.” You rebuke, challenging, yelping when she twists your hand slightly, making your bone snap. “You’ve already shown me your worst.” You clench your jaw in preparation for the final crack, then let out a pant, locking your gaze into her blue, intelligible eyes. “You don’t scare me.”

With those words leaving your mouth, so does all your bravery, leaving you like an empty shell, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Would she take your last statement as a challenge? Would she break your wrist just to prove you something? She could do that simply to put you back in place and, honestly, you’re not even sure if you actually deserve it.

You swallow, holding your breath, waiting for the pain of broken bones to wash over you and sweep through your body, but instead, you feel her grip beginning to get just a little bit loose; still tight, still painful, but looser.

“You should be scared.” She states.

You know you should.

“I’m not.” You murmur sincerely, your shoulder twitching into a helpless shrug.

“You should despise me.” She says again.

You know you should.

“I don’t.”

[themissingmarvel]

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 2]

(I apologize for the delay. I supposed an apocalyptic world often delays ones creative sense for a piece like this. I’m excited to show you folks where this is going, though as usual I worry that people won’t like the sequel the way they liked the first. If you want to be tagged in this, please let me know. I don’t have a tag list of yet. So I’m happy to start. Anyway. Catch Up:   [Part 1]

Pairing: Detective Loki (David) x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, description of death, murder (it’s a crime series what do you want honestly)

+++

The Dover and Birch case had been rough on David, years ago. For a number of reasons, though not the least of which was the fact that he had almost watched a child die. Conyers didn’t really have a lot of deaths, but he’d worked elsewhere. He’d seen bodies. And Y/N had seen bodies, too. But she was never on the front lines.

It was still cold in Pennsylvania and the snow hadn’t disappeared yet, covering the dead earth below. Both were wearing jackets, Y/N’s not nearly as warm as she had hoped. It didn’t matter. Not with what was inside.

The old, small white church with peeling paint and crooked doors had been taped off, a forensic team already taking pictures and dusting for prints. Y/N had an idea that they’d come up empty. 

“How long has the church been shut down for?” She looked over at the taller man who was blinking more than a few times, aware of the tic he’d carried with him since the belt that got used in the boys’ home decades ago. Some things you carried with you, he’d learned. Some scars were worn under clothing and others you couldn’t shy from. They betrayed you.

David took a deep breath, inhaling the cold air that reminded him briefly of the burn of smoking a cigarette. He wanted one right now. The burn would feel nice compared to this. “A year or so. Closed down once the larger parishes popped up. Conyers isn’t exactly a place that attracts a lot of heavily religious types, and small towns can’t afford to keep up places like this.” 

Religion had always been touchy for Detective Loki. He grew up with it forced down his throat but had found God of his own accord. It was painful what lay inside the building, however, no matter what you believed.

Both stepped inside the church that felt more like an icebox than anything. A coffin, perhaps. Death was palpable. It was in the air.

Looking around, Y/N thought for a moment she was having another one of her nightmares. She could feel this one, though. In her bones. On her skin. And what she saw was something she knew she’d never ever get over. As much as he would hate to admit it, or perhaps he’d do so readily, David knew he’d never get the image from his head. Knowing that this scarred you meant you were still human. 

There were little numbers taped to each of the bodies the forensic team had already covered, twelve in total, sitting straight in each pew, alone, standing up straight. It was slow motion as Y/N walked down the aisle, black rose petals lining the floor, her feet hitting a few, the soft petals crumpling beneath her. Each body was staring straight ahead, perhaps at the front, though nothing was there. Nothing except for a note that David knew deep inside was for him.

Y/N was quiet as she held back her trembles, trying to look stern and focused rather than terrified. Her cases had been fairly straightforward so far. Perhaps a few victims, or following crime patterns. She didn’t commonly work with serial killers, and found herself working instead with a variety of criminal patterns. But when she had been tasked with serials, she was often the one who caught the little things. She had a complete success rate. What an odd thing to be proud of, she’d once thought, eating dinner alone.

Looking around, she tried to focus on facts. They were dressed well, formal, even. They had their hands folded in their laps, staring ahead. There were ligature marks on the wrists, but she had known that. 

Taking a breath, it was suddenly caught in her throat, her eyes fluttering for a moment as she took it all in. All twelve bodies. More than they had accounted for. Ones they must have missed. Somewhere. Two missing persons they’d find, they were sure. Maybe from an overworked police station that hadn’t thought to log the missing persons. All lives taken. All formally placed with care and consideration, with aisles decorated in those taunting black rose petals. She closed her eyes tightly, those Y/E/C eyes unable to take anymore.

A soft hand was suddenly on the small of her back, pressure to the touch as she heard his voice, deep though soft, “Do you need to go back outside?” David’s voice was kind, now. Perhaps he felt what she did. That same terror, sadness, overwhelming sense of loss and helplessness that left a person rattled to their core. He wanted outside as damned badly.

But instead she swallowed hard, inhaling sharply and straightening her back, “None of them have their wedding bands on, Detective. He set this up like a goddamn wedding, and none of them are wearing their wedding rings,” she looked over at him, finding a way to process the information so she could actually be helpful for once, and not losing her goddamn mind about this entirely terrifying scene.

Detective Loki had been focused as well, trying to keep himself grounded. He had felt off about the whole thing and the air felt… wrong. It was hard to explain. But when he looked over and saw that same confident woman suddenly rattled, he knew it wasn’t just him. If this… shrink, or whatever, was trying to stomach this, he felt at least a little better that he could barely do the same. He didn’t like the idea that she was struggling, however. He didn’t like it because it meant that this was bigger than any of them thought, because she was supposed to be the smart, focused one here but also… also because he hated the idea of seeing her like this.

Her words, after he’d found himself touching her without even thinking about it, startled him a bit. It was true. Every single one, all married, were missing their bands, “Why take their wedding rings? Why prop them in a church and pose it like a wedding?” He was looking over at Y/N, aware that maybe her being here wasn’t such a bad idea. This wasn’t just some abductor or psycho. This was a true sociopath. 

Y/N could only shrug, shaking her head as she found herself more grounded the more she focused on the case clinically, “It’s not religiously themed, despite the church. The church is a prop, really. They’re posed. This is a wedding without a bride and groom, though. It doesn’t make sense,” her face turned quizzical. She was puzzled.

A man, looking to be mid-thirties, approached the two, “You need to see this. It gets worse.”

Y/N wasn’t sure that was possible, but as the two followed the officer into the basement of the church, it was clear why.

Looking around felt like being in the Twilight Zone for a moment. There were cots lined up, pictures above each that, from what Y/N knew of the case, were the significant others of the individuals. Each cot was set up to look fairly… well, comfortable, strangely. They were organized closely, but up against the center wall was a large, flat screen television. The TV itself must have cost upwards of five or six hundred dollars, which felt like a strange thing to leave behind. Below was a blu-ray player, stacked with movies. But they weren’t just any movies.

David had made his way towards the cots, curious at the state they were in, which was immaculate. Spare clothes were folded by each, though zip ties on the floor backed up his theory that they’d been bound. Of course they had to be. But Y/N had crouched by the movies, picking them up individually, white latex gloves on her hands as she examined them. Love Actually, Titanic, The Notebook, Pretty Woman, When Harry Met Sally. Her face contorted into confusion, whispering to herself, “They were watching movies… love movies.” 

Straightening her posture as she stood, examining the room that echoed something sinister she didn’t quite like but understood, she shook her head, “I was wrong. They were alive. I mean, those bodies out there were barely decayed and that’s nothing to do with the temperature. There’s clothing, movies… Jesus, they’ve been kept alive down here?” 

The detective’s startling blue eyes turned to the woman who looked like she was staring at a train barreling down at her. He knew that she was aware of something else. Something more.

From there both individuals spent no more than an hour examining the place. There wasn’t much to see. Nothing of real forensic use. The prints, Y/N suspected, would all belong to those who’d been held captive. Same with fibers and hair. Anything found would be contaminated. Maybe that was the point. 

Both drove back to the precinct, separate cars, quiet as the place became silent when they entered. Silent still as they walked into the conference room and closed the door. Silent as the world paused, the town aware that they were once again the target of something terrifying. So much more than before.

Hours had passed with the two staring at pictures and information printed and handed to them. Hours spent sitting silently, so engrossed in their work they didn’t notice the precinct had begun to empty out, the area that housed detectives and other administration becoming dark as the other end of the station, where the night shift cops were, remained alive. Away from them. 

Both were startled, suddenly, by the young woman’s phone going off, a soft twinkle alarm waking her from her senses, “Ah, fuck! Shit…” she muttered to herself, grabbing the alarmingly large iPhone from inside her black messenger bag, glancing at it. A reminder, one she had set, for times like this. It wasn’t uncommon for her to become so engrossed she lost track of the time. 

David glanced over, also woken from his work coma, “Everything all right?” He looked at her, a looking like he’d been woken from a trance.

Glancing at her phone, able to see the screen, he held back a grin, though the ghost of one danced on his lips, “Hamburger?” He could see the alarm name and the words in bright white, making him curious.

Looking at him, confused, she realized that of course he wasn’t a mind reader. Instead she chuckled, “Oh, yeah. I have a tendency to get focused, and if I focus, I don’t eat. And by the time I’m hungry, I’m sick… so I set the alarm for 8:30pm, not too late, but enough to jar me to eat something. And I figured ‘hamburger’ was pretty obvious. Pizza always seemed so cliche, you know?”

Despite his better judgment David smiled, “Hamburger. That what you gonna go get?” He eyed her, curious now about what she’d do. He knew himself well enough to know he’d be here another few hours before driving home to sneak some sleep in, get up early, and down a few cups of whatever his neighbor Elisa had left for him. A nice woman, older, had taken a liking to David. She took care of him, in a way. One of those ways was buying the man coffee to brew so he wasn’t stuck with that instant crap he’d drink otherwise.

Shrugging, she began to stand, wincing as she realized how stiff she’d been, tucking some files and pictures away into the bag with her laptop she hadn’t even opened yet, “Probably. I saw a Burger King a few miles from the hotel. I mean… it’s no five-star but it’ll do for now,” she forced a smile on her face, trying to focus on something other than the case. On Detective Loki. On his face. On his small little tattoos decorated like freckles on his skin. The way pieces of his hair had fallen to frame his face, his eyes, icy blue, looking fierce and strong as though nothing could waver him. 

For a moment it was quiet, David wondering if maybe he should offer to take her to the Chinese place he liked, but he reconsidered. She was still a Fed, and this was still a case. A disturbing case. He guessed they both kind of wanted to think of something else. Be somewhere else. But David couldn’t do that, and Y/N had to. She knew that sitting in a small precinct would only heighten her anxiety. She had to be somewhere contained with actual food in her system.

A moment longer than both were comfortable with passed before David took a breath, “Nothing five-star in this town, Agent Y/L/N, or the next few towns for that matter. Enjoy dinner. And uh… be safe.”

Softly smiling she nodded her tired head, “Of course, Detective.”

He was going to correct her, at that moment. He had considered letting her know that ‘David’ was fine, or even that most called him ‘Loki’ around here. And she had considered the same. Letting him know that Y/N was fine, and ‘Agent’ was what she told people when she wanted to get something done and people weren’t listening. But that moment passed in an instant, leaving Y/N to walk out the door, bag around her shoulder.

It felt eerie, walking to her car and loading her things in, the rental she was provided with so foreign, but she was used to foreign. And as she plugged her phone in, the one filled with pictures she’d taken on her own, with notes and screenshots, she tried to get the face of the detective out of her brain. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like the idea of Detective Loki. She did. She really did. But she didn’t like that he was existing there alongside the case. 

A long time ago she had learned to make a mental box. A locker. And in each locker she would put information, separate them from each other. It helped keep things clear. She could put Detective Loki’s face, his attempt at hiding a smile, his small tics and blue eyes, his focus and hardened exterior… she could put it away. And for now, in the locker she needed, the one that was black and filled with something she didn’t want to even name, would be the case. And that… that would be her focus.

If not? She knew she was in trouble.

[master-sass-blast]

Salt of the Earth

Well. Hello. Welcome to my salt.

So, this is a fic that definitely fits into the series and everything, but it is also a direct byproduct of my salt at Netflix cancelling “The Punisher.”

It’ll make sense once you read the fic.

Rated T for: Multiple injuries, car accident (singular), kidnapping, mentions of child abuse, and just angst in general.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader (and kinda sorta Frank Castle x Karen Page; it’s not outright stated, but it’s very strongly implied that they like each other).

Song lyrics are from “Zombie” by Bad Wolves; bible verse is Matt. 5:13.

@marvel-is-perfection

“It’s the same o-ld thing/ in 2018/ In your head/ in your head/ they are dying…”

You sing along with the music blaring through the store speakers under your breath as you glare at the stack of sketchbooks sitting on the shelf in front of you. You’re at an art store in the small town area Piotr likes going to for outings –the very same place the two of you had your first date, in fact—and you’re trying to pick out a good birthday gift for your dearly beloved boyfriend.

 Because Piotr is, without a doubt, the world’s most fantastic boyfriend, and you are not about to be shown up by your own partner.

 You know, not to mention the fact that you want to get him something good. Something he’ll like.

 So, first step. Art store. Always a good place to start, considering that Piotr is an artist and loves getting any art related gifts.

 And, bonus! You can get there legally, without Piotr’s help, because you have a driver’s license! One hundred percent legally obtained! Go you!

 The money in your bank account that will be used to buy the gift/gifts isn’t legally obtained, because it’s a mix of funds from Wade and your uncle, but the cashier isn’t going to know that and you know Piotr isn’t going to berate you for it because he understands that your situation’s a little –a lot—fucked up to begin with.

 Anyway. Back to the point

 You’ve made it to the art store. You are currently in the art store. You are exactly where you need to be –which, if it wasn’t clear, is the art store.

 Unfortunately, there are no steps after “get to the art store” because you have no idea what you’re doing.

 Yes, you do art; you’re not on Piotr’s level, but you hold your own –and, dare you say it, but you’re improving!

 But Piotr’s always handled the ‘supply buying,’ as it were, and now that you’re staring down what seems like thousands of options, you’re completely lost at sea.

 Okay, you tell yourself. Think. What does he need replaced?

 Pens. He’s always burning through pens –and erasers, come to think of it—with how regularly he uses them.

 You smile to yourself as you dart over to the proper aisle. I’m gonna own the fuck out of this.

Once you get your footing, you nail the shopping session. You’re gonna have to hide the receipt from Piotr because you definitely went a little nuts, but he deserves and you have more than enough money so why not?

You hum happily along to the pop song of the moment as you drive back to the mansion, gifts safely tucked in the shotgun seat of your car. You’re flying down the highway –not literally, in the sense that you can actually fly or the sense that you’d be speeding—and—

 There’s not a single other car in sight.

 And that’s… a little weird. It’s early afternoon on a weekend. You’d think you’d see more travelers on the road.

 Before you have too much time to overthink it, a massive black SUV comes up on your tail out of nowhere.

 You yelp and lay on the horn when it rams into your bumper. “What the fuck, asshole?” You wrench the wheel, trying to stay on the road, and press the gas pedal down harder.

 The SUV keeps pace with you, barely keeping off your back bumper as it tails you down the empty road.

 You honk again and shift into the other lane before slowing down.

 The SUV simply speeds ahead –and spins so that it’s sitting across both lanes of the highway, right in your path.

 You shriek as you stomp on the brakes, but it’s too little, too late.

 Your car slams into the side of the SUV, and everything goes dark.

The first thing you register is pain. So much of it, everywhere. Your head feels like it’s been put in a vice until it cracked, and your ribs ache with every breath you take.

The second thing you register is that you’re laying on your side in some sort of cramped, stuffy compartment. You can’t sit up, can’t really even move without bumping into a barrier of some sort.

 The third thing you register is that whatever you’re in is moving.

 Oh, dear sweet Cthulhu have mercy, I’m in the trunk of a car. You groan as you check your pockets for your phone and swear when you come up empty handed. “Shit! Okay, taillight. Find one of the taillights.”

It takes forever, between the pain you’re in and the cramped quarters, but you manage to find one of the taillights. You rip the carpet covering it away, then use your powers to punch it out.

You’re in a city, which is better then being on some backroad in the middle of the woods. City means people, which means phones, which means you’ve got a shot at calling someone and getting back to the X-Mansion. You suck in the fresh night air –you’ve been out for a while, which isn’t good—and try to formulate some sort of a plan. Maybe they’ll hit a light soon, and then I can break the hood open and get out—

The sound of tires screeching fills the air, followed by a heavy burst of gunfire.

You suck air through your teeth –part in surprise, part in pain—as the car comes to an abrupt stop.

“The fuck was that?” one of your abductor’s voices shouts from the cabin of the car, muffled but extremely pissed off.

You know about as much as they do, it would seem, and while you’re not fond of getting out of the car while there’s active gunfire, you know you’re not gonna get a better chance.

You slam the hood of the car open, sending it flying into the air, and bolt for the nearest alley before your kidnappers can react. You barely make it two feet into the shadows before you collapse against a wall, head spinning with blinding pain. Fuck. I think some of my ribs are broken. You pant and gasp through the waves of agony, trying to keep from vomiting.

“Where’d she go?”

“She won’t have gotten far. Find her!”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckuckfuck—

You grit your teeth and fly up to the nearest roof top. You do actually vomit –and almost pass out in it—once your feet hit the flat, paved surface. You collapse to your knees, arms shaking, and groan as you force yourself to your feet. Push through it. Come on. You need to find a way to call Piotr.

You manage to run across the roof top, away from the sounds of your kidnappers’ voices, tears stinging your eyes at every jolt your body takes. You round a corner, hoping to find some sort of door inside—

You run into a black clad figure –literally, full body contact and everything—and scream as the two of you go down together. Adrenaline surges through your system, and you lash out at the person wildly.

“Woah –woah! Hey!”

You stop with a gasp when you see Frank Castle’s face –a little bruised and bloody, but not too much worse for wear considering his line of work—staring down at you. You groan and go limp. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“The fuck happened to you?” he grunts as he scans your various injuries.

“Car crash. Kidnapped.” You wince. “You know, the usual.” You flinch when you hear the voices of your abductors shouting –they’re getting closer—and shoot Frank a desperate look. “I need help. Please. I lost my phone, I can’t call anyone for help—”

He pulls you to your feet and hooks one of your arms over his shoulders so he can support some of your weight. “I’ve got a van in an alley nearby. Let’s go.”

You do your best to keep pace with him and look over your shoulder jerkily when you hear more gunfire. “The fuck is that?”

“I made some friends,” he grunts as he guides you across the dark rooftop. “Left.”

“Sure sounds like it.” Gunfire pierces the air again –closer, you’re both being closed in on—and you shift your arm so that it’s around his waist and squeeze him against you as much as you can. “Which way’s the alley?”

“West, two blocks –Christ!”

If you were feeling better, you’d smirk at Frank’s exclamation when you launch the two of you into the air. As it is, you grimace and focus on not crashing into anything or dropping your only ticket out of here –here being Hell’s Kitchen, apparently.

You manage to find said alley and van –both of which could be charitably described as ‘creepy looking.’ You and Frank tumble to the cracked pavement, and then you’re retching against the dirty asphalt like a cat trying to hock up the biggest hairball of its life.

Frank gets you up on your feet an into the passenger side of the van in a matter of seconds. He mumbles an apology as he buckles you in, then gets into the driver’s side equally as fast and starts the engine.

“I’m gonna apologize in advance,” you gasp. “In case I throw up in your van.”

Frank makes the grunt equivalent of a shrug as he peels out of the alleyway. “Not the worst thing it’s seen.” 

He stops behind a massive apartment building about fifteen minutes later, cutting the engine as he unbuckles himself and opens the door. 

“What’re we doing?” you mumble. Now that you’re sitting down and not actively working on getting away from your kidnappers, exhaustion’s setting in. Fast.

“Can’t use my car to get’cha where you need to go,” Frank explains as he unbuckles you and half-drags, half-scoops you out of your seat. “We’ll need to borrow a ride. That, and you need some first aid for your head faster than you need a ride home.”

You frown as you touch your head, then blink when your hand comes away red and sticky. “Oh. Party.”

Frank chuckles as helps you stagger towards the fire escape. “Always is.”

“Wait, you’re gonna make me fucking climb all that?”

“Guy like me can’t exactly use the front door.”

“How high up are we going?”

“Floor fourteen.”

You give him a flat look. “I hate you.”

He chuckles again. “That how you thank all your rescuers?”

“It is if they make me climb up fourteen floors after going through a car accident.”

“Suppose that’s fair.”

You wince as you hook your arm around his waist again. “You’re gonna have to count; I need to focus on not dropping us.”

You manage to get up to the correct floor without dropping Frank once. He does, though, have to practically drag you to the right window. You whimper as he sets you down and taps on the glass pane.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Hang in there.”

You can hear movement inside the apartment, and then the window opens.

A slim woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and wide blue eyes gives the two of you a horrified look. “Frank –what the fuck?”

He jerks his head at you. “She needs help.”

You stick out your hand –it’s not like you’ve got any better options. “I’m Y/N.”

Karen shakes your hand before backing away from the window so Frank can lift you inside. “I’m Karen Page. Let me grab my first aid kit.”

“I’ve got it,” Frank says as he shuts the window. “She needs a phone to call her boyfriend.”

“I lost mine in the car crash.”

It says something about Karen that she doesn’t even blink at your comment. Instead, she digs her phone out of her purse, unlocks it, and hands it you. “Here.”

“Sorry if I bleed on it,” you mumble as you dial Piotr’s number –you mentally thank your uncle for making you memorize phone numbers from an early age on—and try to avoid smearing Karen’s phone with blood as you lift the speaker end to your ear.

“It’s fine.” Karen nods in the direction that Frank went. “I guarantee you he’s done worse.”

The phone rings a few times before Piotr picks up. “Ya sluchu vas.”

You start crying; after the day you’ve had, hearing his voice is the best damn thing in the world. “Piotr?”

His reaction is immediate, relief so evident in his voice you can practically see the expression on his face. “Y/N, where are you? I have been trying to reach you all day—”

“I got in a car crash; some chickenshits tried to run me off the road, and then they threw me in the trunk of a car, and—”

“What? Slow down. Wait, are you safe? Where are you?”

You groan as Frank and Karen help you sit on her couch, then laugh when you realize how fucking ridiculous the story you’re about to tell is gonna sound. “Yeah. You’re not gonna believe who I ran into.”

Frank takes over the phone once you’ve recapped everything for Piotr and reassured your darling boyfriend that, yes, you’re as okay as you can be and you’re in a safe place; he works out the details of how you’re getting back to the mansion while Karen works on getting you relatively cleaned and patched up. 

And Karen, to her credit, doesn’t seem all that alarmed by your –or Frank’s, for that matter—injuries. Concerned, yes, and maybe a little strained, but not scared.

She smiles weakly when you remark as much. “Yeah, well, you can’t really let all this freak you out to much if you associate with him.” She nods at Frank again.

“I didn’t think the Punisher had associates,” you mumble as she applies another bandage to what seemed to be a nasty cut on your forehead, if Frank’s and Karen’s reactions were anything to go by.

She huffs out a laugh at that. “I didn’t either, until I realized that I was one of them.”

“Yeah… yeah. No, we’ll get ‘er to you. Probably safer that way… nah, I’m sure. We’ll finish getting ‘er stable, and then I’ll drive her out. See you in a bit, Rasputin.”

You peer up at Frank as he ends the call and hands the phone back to Karen. “How’re we getting out of here?”

“I’ll drive you back once you’re patched up.”

Karen snorts and gives him an incredulous look. “I don’t remember saying you could ‘borrow’ my car. Again.”

“I’ve got a ride—”

“What, your murder van?”

You giggle; it’s an apt description, really.

The corner of Frank’s mouth turns up –and holy shit the Punisher is actually smiling. “What’s wrong with it? It’s got four wheels, it drives, it brakes, it steers. What more do you want?”

“Upholstery that doesn’t have bloodstains on them?”

“Aw, c’mon. It adds character.”

And, even with your probable concussion, you can tell that Frank and Karen are flirting. Hardcore flirting, even.

And that’s… interesting. You knew that Karen had to be someone that Frank trusted to even go to her in the first place, but you hadn’t banked on him liking her, too.

“Frank, you won’t be in Hell’s Kitchen. If you drive Y/N to the X-Mansion in your murder van, people are going to call the police. We’ll take my car.”

“‘We?’”

Karen shoots him a defiant look. “You aren’t ‘borrowing’ my car again, Frank.” She moves out of the way so he can take over your ‘patching up’ and disappear somewhere out of your field of vision.

Frank crouches in front of the couch, still grinning as he rifles through Karen’s first aid kit. He pauses for a minute –and you recognize the look on his face as the ‘I’m about to be a little shit’ expression, which you’ve learned to identify from spending so much time with Wade—then says “Technically, I didn’t borrow it the first time.”

“Not helping your argument, Castle.”

You bite back a smirk as Frank huffs out something that, on another person, might be a chuckle. Very interesting.

Once Frank declares that you’re unlikely to bleed on the interior of Karen’s car, she and Frank help you down to the parking garage of her apartment building. Frank crawls into the back with you –to make sure you don’t fall asleep, given your probable concussion and whatnot—while Karen gets into the driver’s seat and turns the car on. 

You wince as you try to sit in a way that doesn’t hurt, then give up on it and settle for letting your head rest against the car door. 

You’re tired. Now that you’re not running for your life or in the warm glow of Karen’s apartment, all you can process –feel—is your exhaustion. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, you’re uncomfortable, and every single tiny move you make hurts.

You are, however, wearing one of Frank’s hoodies; Karen had produced it from somewhere in her apartment –add that to the list of interesting details about whatever dynamic Frank Castle and Karen Page have going on—and wrapped you in it to hide the worst of your injuries from any passersby. It’s ridiculously soft, funnily enough, and is only adding to the exhaustion weighing down on you. You nestle yourself in as much as you can to the back seat of Karen’s car and make to close your eyes.

“Hey. Hey, hey! Do not fall asleep right now!” Frank grabs your hand and squeezes hard enough to be uncomfortable. “Keep your eyes open, you hear me?”

“Fuck you, I’m tired,” you whine. You open your eyes anyway.

“How’d you end up running into Frank?” Karen asks from the front seat as she carefully navigates out of Hell’s Kitchen. “You said something about crashing your car?”

“I didn’t crash my car,” you grouse. “Some assholes pulled out in front of me on a highway and stopped.”

“And no one called the police? Or an ambulance?”

“I’m pretty sure it was all planned ahead of time. The highway was dead empty just before it happened.”

The car goes silent for a moment, and then Karen says in a voice that’s just a little too steady “I knew working with the X-Men could be dangerous, but I didn’t think things were that crazy.”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with them,” you admit. “I’m not really an X-Man, either.”

“But you live at the mansion. And you’re a mutant.”

“I am, but being at the mansion is more for my own safety,” you say with a bitter laugh. “I, uh, grew up in an anti-mutant home. Left once I figured out there was a place that would accept me.”

“You think it had something to do with your parents?” Frank asks.

“I mean, they’ve sent bounty hunters after me before,” you grumble. “It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

Frank tenses next to you. “Who are you parents, ‘xactly?”

You don’t have to guess about why he’s suddenly so uptight. This is the man that spends his life gunning down gangs and crime families and other scums of the Earth; if you were him, you’d be worried about what sort of shit the person you randomly helped save might drag into your life—

Or the life of someone like Karen Page.

If there’s really something going on there, you muse, he’s gonna be protective of her. “They’re no one. Just a couple of assholes who didn’t want their kid when she was growing up, but now that’s she gone they’ve figured out they don’t want anyone else having her either, much less for her to have a life where she’s happy.” Tears start stinging your eyes, and then they’re trickling down your cheeks as you start crying. “They used to lock me in my room –my dad would beat with a belt when I had trouble controlling my mutation—” You choke back a sob, then pain racks through your body from the movement jarring your ribs.

There’s the click of a seatbelt unbuckling, and then Frank’s sliding over so he’s next to you, holding your shoulders steady so you don’t jerk yourself around unnecessarily. “Hey, hey. Deep breaths. Easy.”

“I can’t ‘breathe deep,’ asshole,” you say with a choked laugh. “Ow.”

“Is abuse really all that common towards mutants?” Karen asks from the front seat. “Not that I don’t believe you or believe it happens, it’s just… disheartening to think about.”

“Unfortunately, it is,” you say as Frank slides back to his seat and buckles himself in; you’ve calmed down again, which means you don’t need to be restrained. “There’s obviously the good families, but we’re kind of scum to society. Freakish abominations.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with you,” Karen insists. “You’re just people.”

You let out a dark laugh. “Tell that to the founders of Harmony.”

Frank’s eyes are on you again. “What?”

“An anti-mutant settlement about an hour from Xavier’s. They actively kill any mutants they can get their hands on; they’ve got a compound out in the middle of the woods where they do it.” You go quiet for a moment. “They would’ve killed Piotr, if we hadn’t rescued him.”

“I didn’t realize things were that bad,” Karen says softly after a moment. “How are people even getting away with that shit?”

“How do people get away with committing atrocities anywhere? They think they have a right to hurt people, and others agree with them. Unfortunately for us, the ‘others’ who agree with them happen to be the people in power.”

The car goes silent again, and something tells you that the wheels in Karen’s head are turning. You don’t know her that well –don’t know her at all, really—but something tells you that the woman that Frank Castle is –seemingly—interested in isn’t the type to roll over all that easy.

Then, Karen clears her throat. “Who’s Piotr?”

You smile softly. “He’s my boyfriend. He’s the one I called at your apartment. I was actually out getting him some presents for his birthday today.”

“That’s sweet. What were you getting him?”

“Art supplies. He’s an artist, so I like to help keep him stocked up.” You blink owlishly when you realize that the bags with everything you’d bought are probably still in the wreckage formerly known as you car. “I’m gonna have to rerun that errand. Right after I get a new ride.”

“It’ll all work out,” Karen reassures you. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Uh…” You try to figure it out, even going as far as to count it out on your fingers—

“She’s concussed, Karen. Maybe don’t make her do math,” Frank says with a chuckle.

“It’s been longer than a year,” you add. “Definitely longer than a year.” You think for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. “Y’know, I never thought I’d find anyone. I grew up thinking I was unlovable.”

“Anyone can be loved,” Karen says.

If it were any other situation, you’d write it off as a supportive statement.

But Karen’s voice is just a little too pointed, a little too intentional, and Frank suddenly gets very interested in staring at his shoes.

Probable concussion or not, you know you’re not seeing things. But, there’s nothing you can do or say now that won’t make things awkward, so you tuck it all away for later, for when you can dish it all out to Ellie, Wade, and Yukio to get their opinions on it all –which, to be clear, you’ll only do because you know they’d never blab about it.

But yeah, later. Right now, all you want to do is get back home to Piotr.

Karen keeps you talking for the rest of the ride, asking questions about Piotr and your new life at Xavier’s until she pulls up the gravel drive of Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

The front door opens before Karen even puts the car into park and then Piotr’s sprinting out towards you, followed by a couple of healers.

Frank gets out and directs him to the side where you’re sat—

And then the door’s opening, and Piotr’s there next to you, and you’re both crying.

A couple that cries together, stays together. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

Frank helps Piotr unbuckle and get you out of the car, and then you’re being made to lay down on a stretcher by one very blue, very furry Dr. Hank McCoy.

“Hey, doc,” you manage. “How bad do I look?” 

“I’ve seen worse,” he says with a small smile. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

You can breathe without your ribs hurting.

It’s the small things in life, really.

Lucky for you, aside from the fractured ribs –and the concussion; you did, in fact, have a concussion—there weren’t any other major injuries. The healers fix you up, Hank checks you over, and then you’re being discharged with a meager amount of painkillers to help with the stiffness and soreness that’ll linger for the next few days.

It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been so much worse.

Piotr sticks by your side for all of it; he holds your hand, lets you squeeze his when you need to, and offers encouragement when he can.

Hank leaves so Piotr can help you get dressed in clean clothes, and you start crying as soon as the door closes.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant –not that he had wandered far from it in the first place. “Moya lyubov’, what is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You mash your face against his shoulder and sob. “I’m sorry –I’m sorry that I didn’t call, and that I worried you, and that—”

He’s quick to shush you, gentle and loving as he rubs soothing circles on your back with his hands. “Nyet, nyet, nyet. This was not your fault, myshka.” He kisses the top of your head. “Let’s get you dressed, and then let’s get you food. Da?”

You sniff loudly and nod. “Yeah, okay.”

He kisses each of your eyelids. “What sounds good?”

“I want a burger. With fries.”

He chuckles and kisses the bridge of your nose. “Khorosho.”

“A lot of fries. Like, a metric ton of fries.”

He laughs again and helps you start changing out of your shirt. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Karen and Frank, surprisingly enough, are still around when Piotr walks you over to the main side of the Institute. Karen’s talking to Professor Xavier while taking notes in a little notebook, while Frank just generally looks uncomfortable and seems to be set on finding the best places to stand that’ll draw the least amount of attention to him. 

He also looks a lot better, too, which means the healers must’ve gotten a hold of him.

Good.

Karen looks shocked when she sees you. “Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d be walking at all.”

“I’ve always bounced back quick,” you say with a shrug. “But having healers that can literally make your wounds close themselves by touching you doesn’t hurt things either.”

She nods. “Yeah, I bet they don’t.”

Frank rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts in a grin anyway.

You manage to make eye contact with him –no small feat, since he seems hellbent on memorizing the grain of the wood flooring—and nod in greeting. “Thanks for helping me out.”

He nods back. “Any time.”

“You guys alright? You need anything to eat?” You point in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m gonna have a burger—”

“Actually, we should probably head out,” Karen says. “I’ve got work tomorrow, and I still have an article that I need to wrap up before morning hits.”

The relief on Frank’s face at being given an out is palpable, so you drop it. “Alright. It was nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me bleed on your couch.”

Karen laughs and nods. “No problem. It’s definitely not the worst thing that couch has ever seen. Hopefully, if we run into each other again, it’ll be under better circumstances with less blood involved.”

“We can always hope.” As you watch them leave, an old memory flashes into your mind’s eye:

“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.”

Normally, any memories from your childhood are liable to send you reeling –especially any that connect to the countless times you were dragged into your town’s church and told, over and over, how you were a perversion of God’s creation.

But now, instead of panicking, you can’t help but regard Frank and Karen in quiet contemplation as they walk out the front door of Xavier’s; the two people that, without really knowing you or having any investment in your wellbeing past the general goodwill that decent humans possessed, had spent the past couple of hours helping you get to safety.

After a life of being beaten down –specifically by non-mutants—it’s an interesting turnabout.

You smile to yourself, just a little, as you watch Frank open the door for Karen and usher her out into the night. Salt of the earth indeed.

You wind up on the couch, nestled against Piotr’s side, happily munching on your burger while the two of you watch old Mythbusters reruns. 

(You did, in fact, get a small mountain of fries –and decent servings of fruit and vegetables, because Piotr made your plate for you.)

“How are you feeling?” he asks, voice soft as he kisses the top of your head.

“Sore. Tired. Hungry.” You set your burger down. “I’m gonna need a new phone. I lost mine in the crash.”

He rubs a hand up and down your back. “We’ll get it figured out.”

“I’m gonna need a new car, too. And to replace everything in my purse.”

He wraps his arms around you as you start shaking and presses his lips against your shoulder. “Breathe, myshka. Everything will be taken care of.”

Your lower lip trembles and you squeeze your eyes shut. “I had presents for your birthday picked out and everything. I lost those, too.”

He kisses your temple, then your forehead. “I would rather have you than presents.”

“Yeah, I get it, I just—” You sniffle and rub your hands over your face. “I’m just upset about it. I get it’s not even that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, but I still just—”

He gently settles you in his lap when you start crying and rocks you back and forth. “It is okay to be upset. You had upsetting day.”

“I was just really happy with what I picked out, and now I’m not gonna be able to leave the mansion again until we figure out who went after me and why, and I really just want to be able to buy you a birthday gift, dammit.”

“I am very flattered, myshka, but trust me when I say it does not matter to me. I will not be hurt if you cannot get me gifts.”

“I know, but it matters to me.”

He goes quiet at that, opting to just hold you and rock you back and forth while you cry.

It’s been a shit day. Your car was totaled, you were kidnapped after being forced into an accident, you had to spend over an hour in the medical bay at the mansion to get your ribs patched up, and now you’re down a phone, an ID and debit card, a car, and your gifts for Piotr.

You know that you’re lucky. That things could be much, much worse. That if you hadn’t run into Frank on that rooftop, you’d probably be in the trunk of another car right now.

You’re alive, you’re healed, and you’re back with Piotr. You’ve got a lot to be grateful for.

And, in the morning, you will be grateful for it.

But it’s been a shit day, and right now all you want to do is cry over the fact that you can’t buy your boyfriend a damn replacement birthday present.

So that’s what you do. You’ve earned it.

Crying’s healthy, anyway.