#the way i went straight to ao3 should be criminal and the way i actually almosted ended myself for real when i saw the tiny amount of fics

[muffingnf]

yesss it’s the most rewarding feeling ever. what book are you reading? :)

if we were villains by M. L. Rio and i just finished it so now i have to kill myself actually

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 32: A Bad Case of Allergies

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​ @averyhotchner​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @midmourn​​​​​​

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

Aitana sneezed twice before she walked into the conference room. She sneezed a third time as she placed her things down on the round table. By then, she had already claimed both Emily's and Penelope's attention. And when she sneezed for the fourth time, Morgan and Spencer paused too.

"Oh sprinkles, are you getting sick?" Penelope said with wide concerned eyes while Aitana grabbed her seat.

"Just allergies," Aitana waved it off while she sniffed.

"You have allergies?" Emily raised an eyebrow at her.

"I could."

"If you're not feeling well, maybe you should go home," Morgan suggested.

"I feel okay," Aitana said a bit fast. Her first mistake. "It's just allergies." She sneezed again, barely making it into her arm. "I got some new flowers for the house too. That probably didn't help."

"Actually, cut flowers are rarely a cause for allergies," Spencer said, "Pollen typically comes from grass, trees, and weeds."

Aitana sneezed again then drew in a deep breath. "Yes, thank you, Spencer," she said in a strained voice and another big sniff.

Spencer awkwardly scrunched his face. Clearly, she was trying to convince them that she wasn't getting sick. "People also tend to sneeze many times in a row because they're trying to clear their nasal passages," he said, and she eyed him suspiciously like she was waiting for him to also agree with the others that she was indeed getting sick. "Typically the third or fourth sneeze is just your body's way of making sure all irritants were expelled safely from your nose."

Aitana couldn't keep her narrow-eyed look on him for long, especially when it seemed like he was trying to help her. "Thank you. See?" She glanced at the others at the table. "Just getting rid of something in my nose, as Dr. Reid said."

The other agents rolled their eyes but kept their comments to themselves for the time being. Minutes later, Hotch, JJ and Rossi joined them. Penelope got straight to the point with a school shooting case that happened years ago.

"High school bombing in Boise, right?" Morgan asked. He vaguely remembered the headline on the news. "School shooter and school bomber."

Penelope nodded her head. "A kid named Randy Slade shot 3 students and then set off an I. E. D. in the cafeteria via cell phone, killing himself and 13 kids total, but not before posting all of his plans online."

"It was one of those 'Where were you?' events. My whole campus was glued to the tv," remarked JJ.

"Well, last night, Principal Givens—who was the principal during the shooting—was killed by a bomb modeled exactly like the old one," Penelope said.

"It feels like the unsub wants to attack the man who kept the school together after the bombing," Rossi said. "It's a pretty symbolic target."

"And this week is the 10th anniversary of the massacre," Penelope informed the group. "And today is the first day of a 4-day event to commemorate the bombing at the school."

"So this guy's going to—" Aitana sniffed, "—strike again. Commemorating it won't be enough for the unsub." They could only hope to get there quick.

~ 0 ~

On the plane ride, the group delve deeper into the original school shooting to better understand the unsub they were working with now.

"Randy Slade carried his bomb in his backpack," Morgan said as they went through the files, "This guy hid his in Givens' clock radio."

Aitana sneezed again. She mumbled a 'thanks' to JJ who'd passed her a tissue. She didn't want to admit to the pain she was feeling in her ears. Spencer had warned her that if she had a cold—which he was sure that she did—taking a plane ride wouldn't be the best idea. Aitana claimed it was allergies again.

"...they try to join various social groups, but they get shut out," JJ was saying by the time Aitana came out of her funk. Things were slightly off tune for Aitana as well.

"Randy Slade wasn't a loner at all. The family cooperated fully with us," Hotch said, Rossi nodding in agreement. "He was a high-functioning psychopath, straight-A student, varsity wrestler, lots of girlfriends. With an above-average intelligence that made him incredibly resourceful."

"His explosive of choice was Semtex," said Rossi, "It's found at demolition sites, but it's held under lock and key. Which made us consider the possibility of a partner."

"Never found one," Hotch said, "Slade was too much of a narcissist to share credit. But he was also an impulsive teen, which is what bothers me about this unsub."

"His sense of control?" asked Emily.

"And the end game that he's working toward," Hotch added.

"Slade's pathology revolved around the big kill," Spencer said as he went through the list of victims on their file. "This unsub could have done the same if he'd waited for the candlelight vigil."

"Which means there's no blaze of glory fantasy here," Hotch said, "This unsub has more bombs made, and he's savoring the anticipation of his next attack."

~ 0 ~

Upon arriving to the Boise police department, the team divided in two to visit the crime scene and set up at the department. While Hotch and Rossi spoke to the Chief, Aitana and Morgan started pinning up the old case file on their evidence boards. Aitana had to pause every now and then to sneeze. She wouldn't admit it, even though it wasn't necessary, her nose was beginning to get stuffy.

"Those are not allergies, spicy sprinkles," Morgan remarked with an amused smile.

Aitana shook her head. "They are," she insisted. "I don't get sick."

"Everybody gets sick."

"I don't!" Aitana was about to sneeze again when it turned into a cough instead. Morgan raised an eyebrow at her while she went through her fit. Once Aitana was finished and she could talk, she acted like nothing had happened. "That's part of allergies."

"Right," Morgan laughed. "It's no big deal if you're getting sick."

"Are you kidding? It's a huge deal! I just got back to the BAU permanently and I'm going to call out? No way. We have a job to do and no cold is going to get into my way!"

Morgan smirked suddenly. "I thought you said it was just allergies!"

Aitana was a second away from smacking him with a manila folder when Hotch opened the door. "You got saved by the bell," she muttered to Morgan.

"We're heading to the Slades' residence," Hotch told them, drawing Morgan's attention away from Aitana.

"They're still around here?"

Hotch nodded. "The younger brother goes to the same school. Let's go." He left the door open for the agents to follow through.

"So, sure they're allergies, then?" Morgan mumbled to Aitana before he started making his way out of the room.

"I hate you," Aitana spat, ignoring his chuckle. Before leaving the room, she decided to scarf down an allergy pill just to make sure. That'd been the wrong move because fifteen minutes later, she began feeling dizzy. The pills weren't drowsy-free. She must have grabbed Angel's pills instead of hers. He always used the non-drowy formula to get a good nap.

They arrived at the Slades' home to find it bombarded with the media.

"Well, it looks like we're not the only ones interested in Brandon," Morgan said just as they parked. "It's gonna make it a lot harder for us to talk our way in."

Aitana pulled her head off the window and took in a breath. "Unless we use it to our advantage," she said through a sniff.

"You're not thinking about going out there to give a media press?" Rossi asked her.

Aitana smiled. "Watch me."

Morgan exchanged looks with Hotch and Rossi in the front seats. Both men gave him the look that he needed to go help Aitana. "Seriously?" he mumbled under his breath as he got out of the car.

"Women are just inherently stubborn," Rossi said on his way out. "Don't tell her I said that."

Morgan gave a half shrug as they moved around the car. Aitana had already commanded the attention of the media, albeit with a strained voice.

"...does this have anything to do with Brandon Slade?" one reporter was asking when Morgan joined her.

Aitana blinked several times before giving an answer, though it was given a slight mumble. "Not...not as of...not really, no…"

Morgan had never heard her give such a disastrous answer. It was bemusing but up to a certain point.

"Well, this was the same principal during Brandon Slade's time," the same reporter continued. "Principal Givens helped evacuate many students the last time."

Aitana swayed lightly on her feet. Morgan had to grab hold of her arm to keep her still. "Was it?" Aitana asked them, taking in a deep breath.

"Okay," Morgan said, deciding to cut in for her sake and her reputation, "As of right now, there is nothing concrete to tell us there was a connection with Brandon Slade."

"Morgan!" They heard Hotch call from the front door. He was nodding for the two agents to join them inside the house.

Morgan held Aitana's arm even tighter. For some reason, she was going to start in the opposite direction. "Alright," he said to the press, "Feel free to call me if you have any other background questions. My phone number is 702-555-0103."

"And what's your name, sir?" A female reporter inquired.

"Uh, it's Dr. Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D." Morgan smirked proudly as he turned Aitana with him for the house.

Aitana sniffed. "Was it me...or did you just say you were Spencer?"

"Nah, that was all you, spicy sprinkles," Morgan rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Oh...okay…"

Morgan chuckled. She needed to get some rest pronto.

~ 0 ~

As it turned out, the younger Slade brother had kept in his possession the old list of his older brother's. From it, the team was able to gather the people on the list to talk and explain to them what the situation was. Emily took the lead on that task and very much requested that Aitana go back to their hotel to rest. Aitana did no such thing. The rest of them were compiling the profile to deliver it to the precinct.

She was on her way to the conference room when she heard Spencer calling her. He caught up with her in the bullpen and offered her a cup of, according to him, tea. "Chamomile," he said as she eyed it. "For allergies, of course."

Aitana couldn't help her laugh then. "I think you're the only one following my lie," she said as she took the cup from his hand. "I should say double thanks for that."

"With luck, it could turn into allergies," Spencer said with a little smile. "Chamomile will give your immune system a good boost. I didn't know if you liked it with honey so I didn't put any, sorry."

"Don't worry," Aitana languidly waved a hand then took a sip. It was nice and warm and felt great in her throat. "Putting honey can lower your blood pressure so...best to be careful with that. See, I know stuff too." She winked at him and started walking again.

Spencer smiled for a bit until he became conscious of the fact and shook his head fast. He hurried to catch up with her. "We could go get you some of the honey Halls, if you want."

"That's kind of you, but I'm not going to make anybody go to the store on my behalf," Aitana said. "Besides, I'll be fine. The tea's already working." She took another drink to make her point. "Seriously, thanks. You can keep some distance if you'd like. I'm probably radiating germs right now."

"I'm good," Spencer said almost automatically, which was honestly surprising after he realized it.

"Aren't you always the one on the lookout for incoming germs?" Aitana side-glanced him curiously. "This is your sign to run. Seriously. I don't mind. I won't get mad."

"I'm not going to run away from you, Aitana," he said, scrunching his face like she was crazy.

"Suit yourself, but you might get some...allergies..." Aitana wagged a finger at him.

"Well, you know, allergies aren't actually contagious so..." But Spencer trailed off as Aitana started to laugh. She was joking.

~ 0 ~

The tea did admittedly help Aitana get a better handle on her voice, but her head was progressively feeling heavier. While the team delivered the profile, she stood there trying to keep herself together and, most of all, focused.

"Partners of dominant psychopaths are usually submissive, but that doesn't mean that they can't be intelligent or that they're physically weak…"

She was pretty sure Hotch was speaking. She didn't have the nerve to keep checking.

"...this unsub laid low after the bombing and successfully evaded police and FBI. That took cunning and patience, which he's exhibiting now with his current murders."

"We think he fits the loner profile Slade debunked," Rossi said.

Or maybe it was Spencer?

"He grew up in an abusive home, which kept him from forming the normal social bonds in high school."

"We interviewed all the outcasts from back then," the Chief asked the team, "How did this guy slip through?"

"Even outcasts eventually form friendships," Aitana managed to answer. "Just inevitable but this unsub was the outcast the outcasts rejected."

"He won't stand out in any capacity, and as a matter of fact, most of his fellow students probably won't even remember graduating with him," Spencer took over soon. He was pretty sure Aitana was leaning on the desk to keep herself on her feet. "And that invisibility is what made him attractive to Slade."

"This partner wouldn't steal the spotlight," Morgan said, "Slade turned to the cafeteria because most of the names on his list ate there together during fifth period. So his hatred festered when the names on the list emerged from the cafeteria as media heroes."

"And now he wants to finish the job that Randy started," JJ said, lamenting the implications she was basically giving. "Emotionally, this weekend is more a high school reunion to him than a memorial."

"We go to reunions to show who we grew up to be. Often that means changing everything about who we were," said Hotch, "Consciously or not, Randy Slade revealed clues as to his partner's identity when he detonated his bomb. Agent Prentiss will be conducting cognitive interviews to see what the survivors might remember."

Sadly, their entire case pretty much rested on those interviews at the moment.

~0~

"I'm this close to asking Hotch to send Aitana to the hotel to rest," JJ said when she joined Morgan and Spencer in the conference room. "She's in the restroom right now blowing her nose over and over. I wouldn't be surprised if she passes out from dizziness."

Morgan laughed, imagining it. "Girl is stubborn. And I thought Garcia won that competition."

"Maybe you should go back to check on her," Spencer said, sounding slightly concerned over it. JJ assured him she was only kidding but it didn't lessen his concern. "There are actual consequences if someone blows their nose too much. Her head was already hurting so this will only amplify it, and that's not counting the ruptures she could—"

"Reid," Morgan cut in, trying his best not to laugh in that moment. "Relax, she'll be fine."

"I still think someone should go get her," Spencer said quietly. "I'd do it but she's in the women's restroom," he said with a pointed glance at JJ.

"Uuh, since when are you so keen on being close to someone sick?" JJ raised a brow at him. "Last time I remember, you wouldn't get within 10ft of me when I got sick."

"Ooh, JJ, c'mon now," Morgan said, throwing Spencer a teasing smile, "Isn't it obvious? Pretty boy wants to make up for lost time with Aitana. He did think she had a boyfriend for ages."

"Morgan," Spencer gritted his teeth together. He was waiting for that to get thrown in his face. While Morgan just outright laughed, JJ was a little more decent and hid her smile behind her hand. "Fine, I made a mistake, what's the big deal?" Spencer said with a groan.

"The big deal is that it's hilarious," Morgan was happy to answer with. "Genius like you and you missed it?"

"Maybe because unlike you people, I don't immediately chase after someone I just met," Spencer said, crossing his arms, "Maybe I value my friendships and that's why I'm worried about Aitana. Ever think of that?"

"Sure, of course." Morgan's smile was much too wide for Spencer's taste.

"I still can't believe you told him," he said to JJ who then immediately reminded him that she had not told Morgan. "Yeah, but you told Garcia and that's basically the same thing!"

That time, JJ chuckled. "Alright, fine, but it's not that big of a deal. Emily hasn't said anything."

"You told Emily!?" Spencer exclaimed. "Great, I guess I'll just wait for Rossi to start chiming in and then Hotch will start talking about the proper procedure for informing the FBI—"

"Spence, that wouldn't happen," JJ said, but Morgan had something else to add.

"Yeah, we all know Hotch wouldn't be caught dead explaining technicalities about relationships. That's not his style."

Spencer groaned. "You guys are horrible friends! And you'll be even more awful if you tell Aitana about any of this!"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Morgan came to sit on the edge of the table. "I'm not saying anything."

~ 0 ~

Once Penelope had time to go over the list they had found earlier, she called the team to get them organized and informed. They had written the names from the lists in two columns on a white board, according to Penelope's findings.

"Group one is like the popular kids— prom court, football team, Dean's list," she explained over the phone, making all eyes rake over the specific column. "The Heathers, if you will. Kids in Slade's social circle."

"What about number two?" asked Morgan.

"Uh, that would be the kids from the other side of the tracks, 180-degree difference. Kids this close to getting kicked out—stoners, burnouts, mental cases. Chelsea Grant, our latest victim, is on this list."

"Maybe Slade targeted them because they disgusted him?" JJ offered the theory.

"But they didn't threaten Slade's sense of superiority," Spencer said. "He wouldn't have even cared about them."

"So the partner did it," Aitana suggested. She had grabbed a seat to lean back. She was feeling a bit more tired. "You know, they both chose their specific victims."

Hotch agreed. "That would mean that group would be closer to his social status than Slade's."

"Why would the…" Spencer's cell phone buzzed on the table, about the fifth time intelsat two hours. He quickly grabbed it and denied the call. "I'm so sorry. Why would the unsub list kids that he fit in with?"

"Apparently that's how this clique worked," said Penelope, "The kids in it were meaner to each other than kids on the outside."

"Garcia, separate out all the kids who got into trouble regularly," Hotch started instructing, "Then eliminate the names that the partner put on the list. Now, who's left that came to the memorial?"

"Right!" Penelope got right on it.

"Whoever made the list wouldn't put their name on it," JJ barely said when Penelope announced she may have found the unsub.

"Lewis Ramsey."

With that streak of luck, the team set to work on finding their man. They eventually located him in the evening at a cruddy bar drinking his sorrows away. They detained him and brought him back to the precinct for questioning. Between Hotch and Morgan, they firmly concluded that while Ramsey was Slade's partner, he wasn't responsible for the latest kills.

Spencer brought their attention to a curious thing within Slade's last message before dying. Spencer had rewritten it on a white board exactly as it was on paper. "Ramsey was the partner, but look at how Slade added 'all the LoSeRs in this Godforsaken school.'" Spencer tapped a knuckle against the last word. "This capitalization isn't an accident. Look. L-S-R. Lewis Stuart Ramsey."

"So Slade did name his own partner," Aitana said with a sniff. "And I guess, ironically, Lewis' marijuana conviction saved his life." The man had gone sober and was now making amends for his past actions including being Slade's partner.

"Well, that puts us back to our original problem," Emily remarked. "If the unsub isn't the partner, how did he get his hands on a list that Slade and Lewis kept to themselves?" Aitana's phone went off so she moved to the side to answer JJ's call.

"The only answer is that part of the profile is wrong," Hotch said. "The unsub's vendetta has nothing to do with the list. Did you get anything from Jerry Holtz?"

Emily shook her head. "Only that he mixed up the cell phones that Slade used. It felt like he was making the story up, but I only had a hunch."

"We need to find him now. There's a connection to the victimology that we're missing. Whatever he's holding back might be the key."

"Umm," Aitana's raspy voice stopped the trio from leaving. She was putting her phone in her pocket when she rejoined them. "That won't be possible anymore. Jerry Holtz was murdered in the old high school. JJ's at the scene right now."

~0~

The rest of the night was dedicated to rearranging the profile as they examined the new crime scene and the leftover "potential victims" they had on their lists. The unsub was amongst the group of survivors.

"JJ and Emily are still going through the survivors' names," Aitana said to Hotch as they walked towards the conference room. Her voice had more of a rasp to it than it had the previous day.

"Thanks," Hotch said, "You know you are more than free to head back to the hotel," he said as they neared the doors. "You stayed up all night with us."

Aitana shook her head even though she did feel like she was one step away from falling asleep. "Just allergies," she insisted.

Hotch pulled the door open for her. "I don't think so," he said but Aitana didn't register it. She walked inside with a slight sway in her steps.

"...the unsub doesn't feel pain," Spencer was in the middle of his words when the pair joined them. Morgan and Rossi were listening attentively. "There's a medical condition called pain asymbolia, where patients register harmful stimuli without being bothered by it. They've been documented holding their hand over an open flame because their brain doesn't send pain signals to the central nervous system."

"Sounds pretty rare," Rossi said. He eyed Aitana who'd grabbed the nearest seat to them as soon as she found one. (Because yes, it took her a while to get there). She perched an arm over it and rested her cheek against her palm.

"You sure the unsub has it?" asked Hotch.

Spencer nodded firmly. "The crime scenes prove it. This unsub displayed an unusual level of savagery towards his victims. And consider this—he smashed through a glass display case, but there were no cuts on Jerry. That means he most likely punched through it as a show of force. Now, the only way the human body could withstand that level of pain is if he couldn't feel it at all. It must take a major toll on someone's emotional development." For what seemed like the millionth time that morning, Spencer felt his cell phone buzz in his back pocket. He pulled it out, already knowing it was another spam call, and rejected the call. "A significant contributor to our sense of empathy is the way we personally experience pain. And the unsub didn't develop his sense of empathy because it was cut off."

"Does every person with asymbolia have this?" Morgan inquired.

"Actually, most feel empathy just fine, which makes me think the rest of our profile is still accurate. Loner, invisible," —Spencer felt his phone ringing again, "Outcast, boiling rage—" It was still buzzing. "Son of a bitch!" He practically shouted. He had reached his damn level with the phone calls. He pulled his phone out again and this time answered the call. "Hi! This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I actually can come to the phone right now with a very special message that your mother is a—"

"Reid," Hotch cut him off sharply.

Abashed, Spencer yanked his phone from his ear, only then realizing how he must have sounded to the others. "Sorry. I'm really sorry. I don't know what got into me." He turned his phone off for reputation reasons and cleared his throat, feeling an insane flush on his face. "Uh, where were we?"

Thankfully, Hotch let his moment slide and went on with their next steps. It was then that Spencer noticed the strange smile Morgan had on his face. He was the only one who seemed to have a clue. Rossi and Hotch had moved on like nothing and Aitana...she had given up keeping her head up. She had flattened her arms on the table and rested her cheek against them, eyes blinking much more slowly now.

Yeah, it was Derek Morgan alright.

"I'm going to have Garcia check medical records," Hotch said, "What causes asymbolia?"

"S-s-severe trauma produces lesions in the insular cortex, usually after a stroke," Spencer explained slowly. His mind was working but not for the case. "But this unsub's so young, it's most likely caused by an external factor."

"Like a bomb going off next to him?" Rossi inquired.

"Yeah, a bomb going off next to him…" Spencer nodded.

"Let's go," Hotch said, prompting Rossi to follow him.

"Somebody oughta bring this one to the hotel," Rossi said with bemusement as they passed by Aitana. She was practically asleep on the table.

"We'll take care of it," Spencer said with a strained smile. He moved over to collect the papers they had left out and since Morgan was still watching him with his stupid smirk, he mumbled: "I will crush you."

"What?" Morgan raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" Spencer said quickly, shuffling the papers against the table. "I'll bring Aitana back to the hotel."

"You sure about that?" Morgan asked. "She's hellbent on staying here."

"I can handle it. Go, go," Spencer waved his hand. He would need some time to come up with a good retaliation.

~ 0 ~

Aitana vaguely remembered Spencer attempting to move her out of her chair. All she knew is that the team was gone for some reason and her throat was so dry. "I'm good," she insisted. "It's just allergies."

Spencer chuckled. He was right beside her, guiding her into the hotel they were staying at. "I think we're way past that, Aitana. It's not a big deal, lots of people get sick. About 49 million people get the flu each year."

"Did you...why are you talking so loud?"

"I'm not, but I'll be more quiet if that helps." Spence had brought her into the elevator and pressed the button of their floor. "You know, legally, you can't keep working this case anymore."

"Because it's not allergies?" Aitana sniffed.

Spencer chuckled. "Yeah, sorry. But you've already helped us so much, we'll be just fine."

The elevator dinged open and he brought her into the hallway. He asked her for her room key and opened the door of her room. "I think you should try resting now. Maybe a nap?"

"Oh, now you're sounding like JJ," Aitana said with another sniffle. When Spencer let her go, she was already right by her best and yet she still stumbled on it.

"Well, I do spend a lot of time with her. And I also know that when you get sick, one of the best forms to combat it is to take a nap."

"Why?" Aitana kicked her shoes off and scooted up the bed until she found her pillow. "Tell me a statistic, Dr. Reid."

A smile crossed Spencer's face and, eventually, a small chuckle. "When you're sleeping, your body releases cytokines. It's a type of protein and it helps communicate with the cells of your immunity system to kill a pathogen. So when you're sleeping, your body can focus a lot more on fighting pathogens, breaking fevers and all that good stuff you can't really do if you're investigating a murder case like you are right now."

"You missed" — Aitana sniffled again — "the numbers. Where are the numbers?"

"I was trying to make it easier for you right now."

"Save them for me when I get better, alright?"

"Of course," Spencer nodded at her. She seemed to be close to that much needed nap. "Um, Aitana, I gotta ask you something."

Aitana had closed her eyes already but she nodded that she was listening.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about Morgan playing a prank on me, would you?"

Aitana shrugged her shoulders. "Was it on t.v.?"

Spencer half smiled at her. She had no idea what she was saying. "No, it wasn't."

Aitana let out a small breath and opened her eyes. "I think I need some pills for my headache. I have some on the desk over there."

"Got it..." Spencer walked over to the desk where many things were left sprawled over. He found a small pill box and opened it up. He took out the Tylenol pills and grabbed one of the hotel water bottles. "So then, nothing on that prank?"

Aitana sat up and grabbed the bottle from him, opening it up. She then took the pills. "I mean...it was on t.v., right?" She popped the pills into her mouth and took a swig of water to swallow them.

"I don't think it was," Spencer said gently, not wanting to her irritate her.

"But it was," Aitana nodded to herself. "And-and Morgan...he..." She handed Spencer the water bottle who then placed it on her nightstand. By the time he looked back at her, she was already lying down again. "I'm not being very useful to you right now, am I?" she asked with a clear disappointment in her voice.

Spencer was much too kind to tell her the truth. "You're being extremely helpful." He was smart enough to deduce that through Aitana's rambles, there had to be some truth to it. Morgan had to have done something while she was around him. "Aitana, there's something you might be able to help me with right now...if you're up to it."

It was actually kind of adorable the way Aitana's face lit up. "Really? For the case?"

"Um...yeah…" Spencer thought there was no point in going over the mechanics of things if Aitana wasn't going to remember them anyways. Plus, she didn't need to be bothered with his tinkering ideas for a good prank.

"Okay, I'm all ears…" A moment later, Aitana was tapping her left ear. "Actually, I'm all ear," she said. "One's gotten a little plugged."

Spencer chuckled. Poor thing.

~0~

By night, the unsub had been located and after an extensive search, apprehended as well. The team was back on their way home late in the evening. Hotch, JJ and Emily sat together going over some paperwork. Rossi sat with Morgan on one side of a table while Spencer and Aitana sat opposite of them. Morgan had started up his music when Aitana's insistence about her "allergies" against Rossi became too loud. He learned to love her but bless her heart, when she was sick she was even more stubborn. Spencer was lucky as he had fallen asleep.

"No, no, Rossi, they're just allergies," Aitana said, taking in a deep sniff. She perched her elbows on the table and rested her cheeks against her palms.

Rossi watched in bemusement as she struggled to keep her eyes open. "Why don't you take a nap, huh? Like the kid?"

"Who?" Aitana sniffed again, her head turning to her left to see Spencer. "Oh, I didn't even notice. But I already took a nap earlier. I'm fine now."

Rossi didn't think so. "It wouldn't hurt to take another one—"

Morgan suddenly jumped in his seat, startling Rossi. He pulled his headphones off, shooting a glare at Spencer. "Ok, kid, that was cute. But that's all you got?" Spencer "snored" as he slept.

"Do I hear screaming?" Aitana squeezed one eye shut. Rossi nodded his head.

Morgan's cell phone went off. "It's Garcia."

"Hm, do you know...I called her earlier..." Aitana closed her eyes for a second, just for a second, "I think Spencer asked me to…"

Before Morgan could ask her about that, he heard fresh new screams in his ear. "Dammit!" He yanked his phone from his ear, snapping his phone shut.

Spencer "slept" but his growing smile was giving him up. Rossi stuck a hand between the two and waved a white napkin for peace.

"Nu-uh," Morgan shook his head. His eyes locked on Spencer. "All right, Reid, it's on. Just know that paybacks are a bitch." He glanced at Aitana, about to reprimand her for her participation but seeing her head fall on the table with a thud softened his annoyance. Participant or not, she probably didn't even remember a thing.

[gunebuggieswriting]

̶Good Bad Habits Run In The Family: Chapter Eleven

DPxDC Crossover, Jason Adopts Danny AU

[AO3] [FF.net] [Wattpad]

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Jason woke up later on, the door to Danny’s room still firmly closed. The only relief was from the lack of almost silent sobs, instead replaced by soft snores. It didn’t make him any less concerned, but it was easier to think now. The man made himself a chicken taco, and left a bowl of chicken with a note on top that told Danny he could make his taco however he wanted. He made sure to also add on the note that Danny didn’t have to eat chicken tacos either, but that he did need to eat. As the kid’s unofficial guardian, it’s Jason’s job to make sure he’s healthy. It felt like he was the kid’s parent, and he was surprised when he found that he didn’t really mind.

After that he left, using the shadows to sneak into a broken down apartment building he used to hide his Red Hood costume. He knew that if anybody saw him enter and then see Red Hood leave, that they’d realize the two were one and the same, so he made sure that nobody stayed there. It didn’t stop a few homeless people who attempted to, having nowhere else to camp at, especially when nights would become too cold or the storms too strong. He didn’t kick them out, but whenever Jason Todd came around the next day he made sure to give them an actual shelter, a place where they can truly be safe.

He went straight from the shattered window to the largely empty bedroom, only a few piles of trash and mouse drops scattered about. He lifted up a board, relieved that his costume was still there. He knew he should find a better place, one that wasn't so accessible and the ceilings wouldn't leak, but didn’t bother with that right then and slipped into his costume instead. He left his civilian clothes behind, shifting the board back into place. Checking his grappling gun as well as his regular guns, he left the building, quickly scaling up the wall and onto the roof.

Up there the city felt much calmer, the sounds of gunshots and roaring vehicles far into the distance. The peacefulness of it only made him more restless, reminiscent of the calm before a storm. He hopped from roof to roof, checking each street and alley as he did so. It was only a matter of time before he was needed, Crime Alley was the worst of the crime ridden city that was Gotham. 

In a few hours of doing this he stopped a few creeps from trying things on working girls and those alike, forced thugs from beating up the defenseless homeless people, and stopped a shoot out before it happened. Yet, he felt like the night was more relaxed than most, something he’d usually be grateful for. Now it only reminded him of the night he found Danny. The damp and dirty alley way that he swooped down in after hearing a loud thud sound, only to see a beaten up teen who would change so much without him realizing it…

It seemed like no matter how many criminals that Red Hood took down, his thoughts always traced back to the worrisome matter that was Danny, and it took a lot to continue his patrol instead of returning to his apartment to check on the teenager. He didn’t know whether he should give the boy space or comfort, he didn’t know what Danny needed, and he couldn’t just ask. He felt useless and out of his element, and he was beginning to think that somewhere somebody else would be better than him when it came to emotions. Danny needed help, but Jason may not be the help he needs.

Deep in anxious thoughts, Red Hood didn't notice whenever a figure walked up behind him. He only felt their presence whenever they tapped him on his shoulder, the anti-hero spun around, both guns out and pointed at whoever snuck up on him. The person held up both hands, and Red Hood already knew who was foolish enough to creep up on him while he was distracted, the carefree grin clear on the other's face.

"Nightwing, are you an idiot? You would look like swiss cheese right now if I didn't have more restraint. Honestly, I should have just put a few bullets in that thick skull of yours, might knock some common sense in you."  Red Hood huffed, annoyed, as he let his hands lower. He was tempted to keep his guns out as Nightwing began chuckling while he slid them back in the holsters of his utility belt.

"I didn't know you were so out of it. Usually you're way more aware when you're on patrol." Nightwing teased, yet there was a hint of worry in his voice, one Red Hood knew all too well. The older vigilante sat down on the edge of the roof, patting the space beside him. Red Hood reluctantly sat next to the other man, slumped forward while resting his head on one of his hands, his legs dangling carelessly off the side.

They sat like that for a few moments, before Red Hood got tired of the silence, not wanting his thoughts to wander too much again. "What do you want, Nightwing? I'm sure you didn’t just come here to sit and ogle at the Gotham scenery.”

Nightwing turned to Red Hood, laughing lowly in a way he knew riled Red Hood, except for Red Hood didn’t really have the patience or energy to go along with the other. Nightwing seemed to notice this, his laughter dying down to a soft sigh. “I see you aren’t in the best of moods.”

“You’re right, so just spit out what you want to say before I leave.” The anti-hero was already shuffling, serious about his threat. If Nightwing was here to just waste his time then he would hurry and finish his patrol and return to his apartment, so he could at least check to see if the kid ate supper or not.

Nightwing raised his hands in a palaciting manner, his smile falling with nervousness. “I don’t wanna make you mad, little wing, I just wanted to ask about the new kid you have with you.” The blue themed vigilante said lightly, knowing that it was easy to tip off Red Hood, and that it was even easier whenever he was in a bad mood. Maybe right now wasn't the best time to swing over and talk. He was curious though, and right now was the best time to get answers before the dinner that day. Red Hood would become more closed off then, as all the other bats would immediately hound him with questions. Nightwing may have also been missing their usual patrols together whenever he visited.

Red Hood glared at Nightwing, which was somewhat muddled by the red helmet he wore, but Nightwing knew that look anyway. "You couldn't wait until tomorrow at the dinner? You can get to know him when he's there." That was if they went, Red Hood didn't know if Danny would want to go anymore after earlier, and he wouldn't force him to go. He could already tell that everybody at the dinner were all going to be excited with the prospect of a new guest, and after he tells them all that he was the new meta in Gotham that they'd be more excited. It would be overwhelming, especially if everyone was showing up. He didn't need to tell any of that to Nightwing though, he'd only bug Red Hood with more questions. Even if he wanted to tell Nightwing everything, which he didn't, some of it wasn't for him to tell.

Nightwing scratched the side of his face, his smile becoming more lopsided and smaller with each exchange. Red Hood felt slightly guilty for being so snappy, but he was too aggravated to try and fix any of it or his attitude. If Nightwing couldn't handle it then he was free to leave, or Red Hood would leave before he became too explosive. "I know, it would probably be better to hear about the teen from his own mouth, but that's not what I really want to know."

Red Hood furrowed his eyebrows, though it must have looked like he was glaring through the helmet as Nightwing tensed a bit. "What do you mean? You just said you wanted to know about him."

Nightwing nodded, "Yeah I want to hear about him, but nothing really personal. Like, how did you meet him?"

Red Hood relaxed a little, understanding washing over him. He would most likely have to answer all of this with some of the others, but if he told Nightwing some, then the blue clad vigilante could tell them and make it easier on him. "I found him in an alley, passed out, and took him to one of my smaller warehouses as he was pretty banged up."

"What happened to him?" Nightwing seemed hesitant, and Red Hood wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t bother as he knew it wouldn't be seen.

"I don't know, he hasn't told me." The other vigilante nodded again, yet he seemed concerned now. Red Hood was concerned too of course, but he couldn't have Nightwing assaulting Danny with questions as soon as they met. "Don't ask him either, he'll tell when he's ready."

"Don't worry Red, I'm not going to ask him anything too intrusive." Nightwing assured, easily reading Red Hood, and for some reason that irked something in him. "Okay, so, how did Danny end up staying with you?"

"Well, he couldn't stay on the streets." Red Hood crossed his arms over his chest, only causing Nightwing to roll his eyes. He wasn't going to go into any more details, about how he put Danny in a warehouse for weeks and then left him on the street for another week. Or how skinny and broken the poor teen looked when Red Hood finally gathered enough courage to take him in, because he felt guilty for allowing a kid to be on his own. He definitely couldn't explain how Danny was actually a meta as well, making it ten times more complicated, especially with the whole bat gang on his tail.

"Probably for the best, he almost seems sickly with how pale he is." Red Hood picked at his belt, hoping that Nightwing didn't dig any more into that right then. "Alright, um, what's your thoughts on him? You two seem to be pretty close already."

The question made Red Hood want to squirm, almost too personal for his liking. "He's a good kid, I like him." He answered plainly, and Nightwing gave him a look of exasperation.

"And?.." Nightwing made a go on motion with his hands, only causing Red Hood to raise an eyebrow. "Tell me what you like about him, or how he's been, I don't know! You can't have nothing to say about him."

How has he been? Then it hit Red Hood. Nightwing had more experience with comfort and children in general, perhaps he would know what to do. Though the thought of asking him made Red Hood’s tongue feel heavy, like he couldn't ask, or perhaps he didn't know how.

Red Hood cleared his throat after a few seconds, it sounding weird coming out of his highly modified voice, before deciding to just answer Nightwing so he'd leave him alone. "Danny… Well, he has a lot of guts, and I don't know if that makes him a complete idiot or brave. Probably an idiot, because although he can be pretty clever, I wouldn't put it past him to put his shoes on the wrong foot. Not only that, but he's super clumsy. Worst of all, he called Pride and Prejudice boring!" Red Hood shook his head, remembering that day. "He's uncultured and ignorant, but I guess he makes good points for some books, it just takes him forever to read." He paused for a second, then remembered something and started again. "He's got some talent for drawing, I've seen some of his doodles and it's better than anything I could do while taking my time, so that's probably where a lot of his smartness goes."

Red Hood realized that he had been talking for a few minutes without much of a break, not even giving a chance for Nightwing to comment. He quickly became embarrassed, knowing that he practically just gushed about Danny like some proud parent. He grumbled and wanted to remove his helmet so he could rub his warming face, hating how Nightwing stared at him with a goofy smile and twinkling eyes that showed even through the mask. He could hear the teasing already.

"Seems that you like this teen a lot more than just him being a 'good kid'. I could almost hear the affection through that thick helmet of yours." Nightwing nudged the side of the anti-hero, who smacked it away, yet he didn't feel as annoyed as earlier. He wouldn't tell Nightwing that, he'd probably assume that it was either because of talking about Danny or from the vigilante's presence alone. He definitely didn't need any sort of ego boost like that.

"Whatever, I answered your questions, now leave me alone and go bother somebody else." Red Hood was shuffling more, about to get up whenever he remembered how Danny was back at the apartment, the sound of long lasting sniffling bringing him back to reality. He got so sidetracked rattling off about Danny that he, in a way, forgot about him. How, he didn't know, but it caused him to settle back down and look at Nightwing.

The other seemed to notice this, still as perceptive as always, and gave Red Hood a teasing grin. "What, you have a question now?"

The crime lord hesitated, not knowing how to phrase his question, or how much he should let Nightwing know. He didn't want to overstep any untold boundary that Danny had set, but he also had a strong urge to help, and he couldn't ignore it. He also established earlier that he didn't know how to help, which he couldn't ignore either. He sighed heavily, feeling stuck.

Luckily, Nightwing seemed to understand, like he usually seemed to be able to with Red Hood. "You know I will answer anything you ask, if I can anyways. I won't judge you, little wing." He gave Red Hood an encouraging smile, and although Red Hood hated that nickname nowadays, he could admit that he felt a little reassured.

He huffed, swinging his legs as he lifted a hand to rest on his helmet. "It's just, I- don't know…" Asking for help seemed much harder than Red Hood thought it'd be. "How do I- What do I-"

"Take your time, Red." Nightwing said after the few pitiful attempts of the younger man trying to get a cohesive sentence strung together. Nightwing was curious, but he was more so worried, only having seen Red Hood this hesitant and nervous a few times before.

Red Hood sat there for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts before he tried to speak again. "I don't know if I can take care of him, help him in the way he needs anyways. I don't know if I can do it. I try, but what if I'm only making things worse?" He finally spit out, only noticing how desperate he sounded after he was done, and he couldn't stop the small amount of shame and embarrassment that washed over him.

Nightwing didn't answer immediately, trying to gather himself, taken back. He hasn't heard Red Hood be so honest or emotional like this in a while, a vulnerability that his tough front didn't usually allow. He couldn't help but wonder how much Danny really meant to him, or how the teen had made such a huge effect on him that his own family teammates weren't able to cause.

Red Hood was becoming much more nervous the longer that Nightwing stayed silent, but eventually the older man spoke up. "I may not know Danny, or what help he needs that you're talking about, but I do know that you aren't making things worse. I can tell that you care a lot for him, and the fact that you're so cautious with making him upset allows me to know that you're not so dense that you wouldn't be able to tell if you hurt him or not.

"The only thing I can tell you is to keep being there for him, and that he'll probably come to you when he feels comfortable enough. Just because you don't know what he needs doesn't mean you're not good enough, it just means he needs to tell you, and that you have to wait. Unless, of course, it's an emergency or he's hurting himself and you can't stop him, then you need to get some help outside of your own capacity." Nightwing finished with confidence, looking back at Red Hood to gauge his reaction.

Meanwhile,  the younger man was trying to absorb all of what Nightwing had told him. It was good advice, and it put most of Red Hood’s worries at ease, the constant restlessness he'd been wrestling with melting a bit. It was a reminder to why he admired the other so much when he was younger, to why he still admired and looked up to him.

After a few quiet moments, Nightwing's comms came alive, taking him by surprise. He almost forgot that he was currently on patrol, getting so caught up in helping his little brother little wing any way he could. Oracle told him a location that was recently called in for suspicious activity, saying that he should probably check it out. He sighed, looking back over at Red Hood, and was glad to see that the younger vigilante wasn't as tense as earlier.

"This was a nice chat and everything, but I gotta go. Duty calls." Nightwing stood up, stretching with his arms above his head, relieved when he felt a few pops. Then after sending a quick salute to Red Hood, which caused the anti-hero to glare at him without any real bite, he dived off the roof with a grapple hook in hand. Red Hood watched with mild exasperation as Nightwing gracefully swung away, all the while waving wildly at Red Hood in-between swings.

Red Hood waited a few seconds, feeling much more tired and yet so much lighter than he did minutes ago. He looked up at the inky black sky, noticing how he could now see one single star, the Northstar. A smile slowly formed on his face when he thought about how Danny would probably be happy to finally see a star again after being in the polluted city for so long, even if it was only a single star.

Jason returned to his apartment, having hidden his costume back. The bowl of chicken tacos was gone, the small amount of dishes having been washed and laid to dry on a mat. Jason almost felt bad about Danny doing the dishes, but brushed it off whenever he knew that the boy most likely wanted to do them. 

He stood up, more determined than before, taking his grappling hook and finishing his patrol. He'd wait for Danny to come to him, for him to feel comfortable enough to seek his help. Until then, he'd keep making sure Danny ate and got something to drink, offer hugs whenever he cried, and listen whenever the teen asked for his ear. He'd just keep doing what he was doing, and although it was difficult at times to know what he should do, he also knew that he must not be doing too much of a shabby job.

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He was the same way when he was younger and first moved in with Bruce, always insisting Alfred that he would help with the dishes, saying it was only polite of him. Alfred eventually caved, compromising that they would do the dishes together. The butler washing them or setting them in the dishwasher while Jason would either rinse them or dry them off and put them away. Since Jason was so short then, he would have one of the other three living there to help him put some of the dishes away.

Jason pushed those memories away, a stir in his gut already starting to pick up, and he couldn't tell if it was nostalgia or longing. A part of him was still afraid that it was something much more dangerous, something he always tried to convince was no longer there. He then saw his note that he left, it was turned on its other side, a new note written in sloppy cursive. The man quickly picked it up, dread and panic having replaced his sense of ease, and sighed with relief as he read the content. He wouldn't be going back out tonight at least, there was no upset teen to chase down and drag back into a safe environment.

He reread the note, much more calm than moments ago.

"Thanks for the food, and sorry for making you worry. I'm fine now, just needed to get that off my chest. See you in the morning and don't stay up too late! You can't be too tired for the dinner. :)

P.S. I did the dishes, but I couldn't put them away since I didn’t know where they went, you gotta tell me if I'm staying here longer"

Jason couldn't help but smile, the note settling the uneasiness that was lingering. He yawned, deciding to listen to Danny’s words and going to his bedroom. He changed into some shorts and a loose fitting shirt, slinking underneath his covers and relaxing into his soft bed. He was asleep almost instantly, head filled with dreams too hazy to remember in the morning.

He woke up a few hours later, still feeling as drowsy as he did the night before, but decided it was too late to go back to sleep. The whole Wayne Family and Co. had terrible sleep schedules, most of them being vigilantes or something else of the like, so they were used to the eye bags that all of them wore most of the time. Hopefully Danny wouldn't be added to that list, the teen needed the rest, and he didn't have any nighttime activities that Red Hood knew about. There could be only so many things keeping the teen awake if he did have dark circles under his eyes, and most of them weren't good.

Not bothering to change yet, Jason left his room and went straight to the kitchen, his throat feeling dry and desperate for water. In his half-asleep mind purely focused on getting a drink, he didn't realize there was another being in the room.

"Good morning, Old Man." Jason whipped around at a speed he didn't think possible so early in the morning, his groggy brain waking up in an instant, before relaxing whenever he remembered Danny. He was sitting at the counter, slumped forward with his head resting on his hands. The teen was smirking, seeming pleased with himself that he was able to spook Jason so easily. "I thought you were supposed to be a vigilante? Don't you need to be aware of your surroundings for that?"

Jason rolled his eyes, taking a few greedy gulps of water before daring to speak. "It's too fucking early for me to even try to think of a good comeback for that."

"Or is it that you have nothing? Hm, you old fart?" Danny continued to tease, a wolfish grin on his face that showcased his ever-growing fangs. Jason didn't know how he didn't constantly accidentally bite himself with them.

"Shut up you brat." The man pushed Danny's head back, getting a mumbled complaint in return. He scratched at his face, his rudely awakened brain trying to fog backup once more. He really wanted to take a nap and he just woke up a few minutes ago. He almost cursed whenever he remembered that he and Danny were meant to go to the dinner later that evening.

"So, what are we having for breakfast?" Danny asked, deciding to cross his arms on the counter and lay his head on them as he stared up at Jason. The man examined him closely, seeing how he seemed much better than the night before. He knew how quickly that could change though, and how it could be anything that made Danny spiral once more.

Jason realized that he hadn't answered Danny, and he began looking across the kitchen. He was too tired to make food at the moment, so he opened up a cabinet. "Cereal." He answered plainly as he took out a box of some generic brand of corn flakes, heading over to the fridge to grab some milk as well.

"Sounds good to me." Danny hopped off the chair, grabbing two bowls for them before pouring himself some of the cereal.

They both ate in silence, and although Jason thought it would have been awkward from what happened yesterday, it was surprisingly comfortable. He slowly woke up the rest of the way, allowing his thoughts to drift from one topic to another. Danny was unsurprisingly done eating first, Jason soon finishing his meal too, and they both flopped onto the couch.

Jason turned on the television, stopping at a boring news channel, only slightly curious as to what terrible mishap happened in Gotham recently. He couldn't help but imagine every morning being like this, both of them getting up and eating breakfast together, then relaxing in the living room for a bit as they watched the morning news. He found that he wouldn't mind if they did, feeling so calm that if it wasn't for his strong will he would have easily fallen back to sleep. The room was warm but not too hot, and there was a soft light that filtered through the blinds, making everything seem so serene.

It felt perfect, a normalcy neither of them was used to, and neither of them wanted it to be interrupted.

Of course it would have to be, as about a half hour later Jason's phone began to ring. He took it out of his pocket, switching it on and grumbling whenever he saw that it was Dick. He stood up, leaving Danny on the couch as he walked down the hallway a bit, just far enough to have a bit of privacy.

He purposely waited a few more seconds before answering, knowing that it drove Dick crazy whenever he didn't immediately answer the phone. "What could you want so early, Dickie Bird?"

"Early? Jaybird, it's already eleven o'clock." Dick said, and Red Hood rolled his eyes, wishing that the older man could see it. "Anyways, I was just wanting to ask if you and Danny are still going to the dinner or not, Alfred needs to know."

Jason clicked his tongue, putting his hand to the phone after a quick "hold on". He walked down the hallway and peered around the corner. "Hey kid." Danny, who was staring distractedly at the television,  turned his attention on Jason questioningly. "Do you still feel like going to the dinner or not?"

"Well duh, didn't you read my note last night? Don't tell me you are so unaware of everything that you didn't even notice it." Jason flipped Danny off, the teen sticking his tongue out in retaliation, before going back down the hallway.

"Yeah, tell Alfred we'll be showing up." Jason told Dick, who was slightly snickering, and Jason knew that he must have heard Danny. "On second thought, I don't think you'd be a good influence on Danny, he's already annoying enough as it is without you rubbing off on him."

"Awww, so I can't see my little brother's kid? How rude. Honestly I thought you were bett-" Jason didn't allow Dick to finish talking, hanging up as soon as he started his long-winded dramatics. He walked back into the living room, to see that Danny had switched the channel to some Sunday cartoon, seemingly having gotten bored of the monotonous news station.

He didn't flop back down on the couch, no matter how much he longed to and fall back to sleep. "I'm going to take a shower, so sit here and watch your cartoon like the good kid you are." The man teased, watching amused as Danny's face reddened from embarrassment.

"Cartoons aren't just for kids…" Jason heard the teen mumble as Jason left to take his shower.

A few hours later the two of them were ready and driving over to the mansion for the dinner. Both of them were anxious. Jason because of how much he was going to have to explain, and Danny because of the amount of people who will be there and the want to make a good impression on them. He knew that they were a rich family, and not only that but vigilantes as well. Danny felt almost insignificant compared to them, and the ghost side of him wanted their acceptance, even if he was still very much wary of rich people since Vlad. Yet, even he still wondered how the unhinged halfa was doing right now.

------☆------☆------☆-----☆-----☆-----☆------

Has he heard the news yet? Was he upset? Did he know that Danny was still alive? Would he blame him for what happened?

Before they knew it they had arrived at the Wayne mansion. Jason pulled his motorcycle besides the several other cars sitting in front of the huge house. He let Danny get off first before getting off himself, hanging the biker helmet he forced Danny to wear on the handle bar. The man saw how much Danny was fidgeting now, almost like he couldn't stay still.

"Are you sure you want to do this? We can always wait until next weekend or something." Jason laid a hand on Danny's small shoulder, who leaned into it a bit.

Danny took a deep breath, before turning his head to Jason with a nervous riddled smile. "Might as well go ahead and go in, we're already here, ain't we?"

Jason chuckled softly, releasing Danny's shoulder and gesturing towards the house. "After you then."

Danny visibly swallowed, but began walking towards the mansion anyways, mentally preparing himself. He hesitated at the large opposing doors, not knowing if he should knock or not. Jason laughed and stepped forward, swinging open the doors without a second thought, much like he did every time. He didn't care about something like knocking, no need to announce himself if he acted like he owned the place anyways.

A few seconds later, only being able to take a few steps, there was already one of the many bats in front of them, Steph. 

"Hey Jason, glad you could make it. Oh, who’s the newbie?" The blonde girl stepped forward, causing Danny to take a step back, subconsciously hiding a bit behind the much larger man. Jason grabbed Steph's head and pushed her back, the girl letting out an offended squawk as he did so. "What? I'm just trying to say hi!"

"We all know how you are. I shouldn't allow you five feet near Danny. You might infect him with your bad behavior." Jason crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one leg, efficiently blocking Danny out of her view.

The teen girl whined, trying to look around Jason to see Danny. "A bit of chaos never hurt anybody, plus, he seems like the type to like that! I'd know for sure if you let me at least talk to him, I mean, I don't even know his name yet!" She pouted, still trying to get past the man, failing as he was practically built like a fridge.

"Chaos, you say?" Jason groaned, seeing the scheming glint in Danny's narrowed eyes, his grin becoming much like it was that morning.

"This is why I didn't want y’all to meet, now I have to deal with two brats." Jason muttered, but didn't stop Danny whenever he slipped past him and towards Steph.

"The name’s Danny, nice to meet your acquaintance." The raven haired teen stuck out his hand.

"You can call me Steph, excited to see what great things we'll be able to accomplish together." She lifted her hand to shake Danny's outstretched one, giving one firm shake before letting go.

"Alright, you nerds done with your weird little greeting? We should go to the dining room with everybody else." Jason said, already moving to the room. Danny and Steph followed behind, whispering quietly about what the man could only assume would cause him a massive headache later on. He was worried that Danny would be too nervous to talk to anybody, but now he's worried that the teen may get along too well with everyone. Specifically the ones that he can cause trouble with.

They all stepped into the dinning room, where most of the people were. Tim was the first to notice them, freezing as soon as his eyes landed on Danny, who wasn't paying him any mind as he stared amazed at the large room. Damian, who was in the middle of an argument with Tim, turned to see what caught the older boy's attention. He quickly straightened up whenever he saw Jason.

"Ah, Todd, I see you have brought a guest today." The tween spoke with well taught mannerism, wanting to appear as the mature kid he was, whenever he was suddenly taken back. He tensed as Jason moved, properly getting a look at who the man brought. Jason lifted up a brow, but Damian didn't notice as he stared at the other teenager who was still distracted by the bright and fancy room.

"Danny?" Damian called out hesitantly, his carefully created exterior slightly cracking as he stared surprised by the guest.

Danny immediately snapped out for his amazement, his light blue eyes locking on Damian’s emerald ones. He smiled sheepishly, his hand going to scratch the back of his neck with newfound nervousness, remembering that he had run in with a few of them already beforehand. "Oh, um, hi?.."

[donutloverxo]

A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. “No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

[bluegarners]

“I have your loved one” with Dick and Jason?

heyyy, it's finally here haha! i'm slowly getting to each request lol

here it is on ao3

I Have Your Loved One

It’s Thursday.

Time: 23:47, or 11:47 p.m.

Bludhaven has hit a rough patch in its weather, a vicious storm battering against thin windows and overflowing gutters and drains. It’s one of those storms that brings in the water but no lightning, dark clouds blanketing the entire sky, remorseless and relentless in its pursuit of smothering any light from escaping. The clouds don’t muffle anything though, perhaps amplifying instead the downpour that floods through Bludhaven’s streets and alleyways. Its citizens like to think this is a New Jersey hurricane, freshly mutated and traveled from the east coast into their humble, mildew covered city.

Dick likes the rain. Likes the way it pounds against his apartment, screaming to be let in but just barely warded off by seven inches of concrete and steel. The blinds are closed against the windows, and he has towels pushed up against the sills just in case the sealing lets up. Even if they were open, Dick is sure all he would see is another wall of gray and black, dozens of delicate raindrops splattered against his windows.

Because of the storm currently wreaking havoc in his city, Dick has elected to stay indoors for the time being. Eventually, the rain will let up, its pattern being close to about 05:00, and then he’ll suit up and do a quick patrol before work. For now, he’s content with sitting on his couch and listening to the water smack against the old building and run rivers down the sides. He’d like to sleep through it, a free white noise service at the ready, but his mind simply refuses to allow him to rest just yet. In a few hours, he’s sure he’ll come to hate himself for not taking NyQuil or some other drug to help him fall asleep, but for now… Well, it’s nice. The rain is nice. It’s also very loud.

He misses the first call.

His phone is face down on the kitchen table, about eight feet away from where he lays on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. It vibrates, buzzing for thirty seconds, before falling silent.

He misses the second call too.

Thunder rumbles through the black sky, its force shaking the windows and only encouraging the downpour. His phone buzzes again during it, quieting after another thirty seconds.

Dick hears the third call. Hears the tail-end of the buzzing, getting up from his position on the couch and padding over to pick up his phone only to miss the last few seconds. He unlocks his phone, checking the number, and feels something cold settle into his gut when he sees no caller ID. It’s the same person though, all three times, but no voicemail.

He’s about to call the number back, just in case it’s someone he knows and they’re ringing from a payphone or something else, when the no caller ID flashes across his screen for the fourth time.

Dick answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Richard Grayson?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice is feminine, a slight, western accent, longer o’s and a faint drawl. Somewhere from Arizona most likely. Lower register too. Older woman, mid-to-late fifties. Smoker.

“That’s good. I was starting to think I had the wrong number, Richard.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have my phone on me. You didn’t say earlier, but who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter too much right now. What does matter, though, is this.”

She pauses. There’s shuffling he can hear on the other side. A faint, second voice in the background. No, three voices. At least two others in the room with the woman. He can hear the sounds of an air condition unit rattling.

“I think you might’ve cut off there. What were—”

“I have your loved one, Richard.”

Lightning cracks through Bludhaven.

His stomach falls onto the floor, pooling around his ankles. The storm outside grinds to a halt, the quiet louder than any thunder it’s ever managed to produce, and there’s a high pitched ringing reverberating inside his skull. Dick thinks he might be sick.

“What?” he chokes, the air in the room suffocating and weighing down his lungs. “What did you say?”

“I have your loved one,” the woman repeats, calm and slow. “Your brother, actually. Then again, he tells me you aren’t related by name nor blood, so we’ll settle for a loved one.”

“What do you want?” Dick demands, already scrambling to get to his computer, find where they’ve taken Jason. Find his brother.

“He did say you weren’t one for small talk,” the woman carries on, unhurried and unconcerned. “Your brother isn’t either, hardly said a word all this time.”

“Can I speak to him?”

There’s a small huff on the other end of the call, exhalation and a sigh leaving the woman’s mouth. A cigarette. She’s smoking during this conversation, blowing the smoke into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she finally answers. There. Dick has his general location. Still in Gotham. He needs the tracker to be more precise though. It’s taking time though. Too much. “Your brother here was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer after his daddy didn’t pick up. Cried pretty hard about it too.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick grounds out, fearing his phone will crack with how tightly he’s gripping it.

“Well, you weren’t our first choice to call, Richard. I’m sure you understand.”

Dick says nothing, focused on the computer screen in front of him. He should contact Barbara. This would be faster with her. Faster to find Jason.

“We called about seven times,” the woman continues, blowing another puff of smoke out into the phone. “Isn’t that right, boy? We called and called and called. His daddy didn’t pick up once, went straight to voicemail each time. A shame, really.”

There’s a sniffle on the other side of the call and Dick’s heart seizes when he realizes it’s probably Jason.

Batman was currently off-world, all communication with him being strictly between Justice League lines. Bruce Wayne was somewhere in the Bahamas, partying with Italian models and Spanish actresses.

Of course he wouldn’t pick up.

“Can I please talk to him?” Dick asks for the second time, fisting a hand into the couch cushions. “Please, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

More smoke. “I’ll ask him.”

There’s a muffled thud, the phone most likely having been put down, and quiet voices filter through the line. He can’t hear much of what they’re saying, short bursts of comprehensible syllables before fading back to unintelligible noises. His computer dings with a response from Barbara. She’s going to use one of the J.L satellites to better pin-point Jason’s location. She’s also in communication with the police, reporting a child-abduction.

Keep them talking, she writes. Everything is going to be okay, Dick.

It feels like his heart is beating in his throat and his tongue has swollen to the size of a bowling ball. The storm outside is unrelenting. Lightning hasn’t struck again.

There’s more movement on the other side, clattering and scattered noises. The phone’s been picked up.

“Alright,” the woman says, raspy and uncaring. “The boy says he wants to talk to you, Richard.”

Dick holds his breath, waiting. There’s more noises, a transfer he thinks, and another sniffle interrupts it.

“Hello?” a shaky voice asks into the receiver. Dick feels like crying.

“Jason,” he breathes. “We’re going to get you out of there, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” his brother rattles, a sob latching onto the end. “I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dick shushes, feeling himself get choked up at the fear in the younger boy’s voice. “I know you didn’t, bud. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t think you were gonna pick up,” he admits, voice cracking. “B-Bruce didn’t. He didn’t answer, Dick, and I-I thought you weren’t gonna either. I-I thought—”

“I’ll always answer, Jason, I promise. I’m coming for you, okay? I’m going to come get you and we’ll both go home together. Does that sound good, Jay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” the thirteen year old relents. “You promise though, right? You’re not gonna leave me here?”

“No, Jay, of course not. I’m not going to leave you there, I’m coming to get you. Right now. I promise, okay? Jason, I would never abandon you. You’re my kid-brother and I love you. I’m not going to-”

“As touching as this is,” the woman interrupts, “I think that’s enough.”

“Put Jason back on the phone,” Dick snarls. “I swear, if you lay a hand on him, if you even touch him, I will end you.”

“Sure, honey,” the woman drawls, puffing into the receiver. “Here’s what’s going to happen, so I want you to listen to me.”

His computer dings. It’s Barbara. She’s got the location. It’s close. Not even twenty minutes away. Border between Bludhaven and Gotham. Motel next to the gas station connecting the freeways. Room 13.

He’s out the door and revving up his motorcycle before the woman has even taken a second drag from her cigarette. The rain is beating against him, gloomy street lights flickering through the shrouded dark of the storm. Thank god for Bludhaven sewers, only slightly better than Gotham’s. The water level is only a few millimetres high.

“Now, I don’t want to keep this kid anymore than you want him to stay here with me,” the woman drones. The streets are empty. Dick blows through every red light he comes across. The tires are new, the grip is fine. “So, I think we can make this simple.”

“What do you want?” Dick growls, transferring the call into his helmet. He prays she can’t hear the rain battering against it. “Just tell me what you want already and I’ll give it to you.”

“Don’t rush me,” the woman snaps, and it is then that Dick realizes that this is all probably by chance. This isn’t some criminal mastermind who plotted to find and kidnap the son of a billionaire. This isn’t a case of a rogue villain piecing together vague details and figuring out Batman and company’s identities. It’s simply someone desperate. Someone who saw the opening and took it. The poor planning is evident, practically spelled out in bold print that these people have no real idea what they’re doing.

“Sorry,” Dick bites out, veering through a short-cut that says, in neon orange, Danger. Construction Zone. “Please continue.”

The woman on the line is vindictive though, choosing to remain quiet as the sound of a lighter clicking open tinnies through the call. She takes her time lighting a new cigarette, taking a long, slow drag and holding it in for a few seconds. Dick jerks his bike to the right, narrowly avoiding a large pothole. A passing car blares its horn at him. Finally, the woman exhales. He can hear Jason cough in the background.

“What I want,” she starts, a new color of intrigue hitting the back of her throat. He’s barely ten minutes away now. Could probably half it if he took more backstreets and increased his speed. “Is for my son to be released from prison.”

“Who is your son?” Dick asks, cursing silently as his back tire skids, hydro-planing for a moment. Thunder crashes above him and the rain continues to pelt at his body. It feels like getting hit with a paint-ball gun.

“Landon Jennings. I want you to get him released. I know you have the access to lawyers, probably have debts owed to you from people in high places. I want him released tonight.”

Time: 00:14.

01:14 a.m standard time.

“I can do that,” Dick says, heart beating faster as he sees the sign for the motel, dim in the gray, “but I’ll need a few hours. I need to contact my lawyers. Where is your son stationed?”

An icon appears in the front of his digitized visor. It’s Barbara. She sees him closing in. Police are on route. Seven minutes out. He has the option to wait on them and keep the kidnappers on the line.

“Same place they all go,” the woman barks. “Use that head of yours and figure it out. I want my son out by tonight, or you’re not going to see your brother again. And,” she rushes, “I don’t want the police involved. If you call them, I’ll know, you understand? I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I’m not scared to. My husband is here with me too, so if you try and—”

Okay, so waiting isn’t an option. He’s going in.

“No police,” Dick interrupts. “I understand. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“If you just do what you’re told, then I won’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, gently getting off of his bike and leaving it on the side of the road. He can’t chance them seeing him pulling into the motel lot. “You said your son’s name was Landon? If you don’t mind me asking, what is he charged with?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Dick jogs towards the motel, careful to stay out of direct light. The general office looks closed. Most of the windows facing the lot are shielded by salmon colored curtains. There’s only one floor, thankfully. Dick sees door 13. He’s shaking. His fingers are numb.

“My lawyers said they need to know in order to file for a judge to repeal his sentence.”

“Is that so?” the woman asks, suspicion tailing her voice. She takes a drag from her cigarette, contemplating. Dick’s clothes are soaking wet and he cringes every time his shoes squelch against the concrete. He decides crawling is best, ducking under windows and avoiding peepholes. “Fine then. Landon got falsely accused of statutory rape and breaking and entering. Is that what your damn lawyers are looking for?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes. He’s at door 10. He can see a faint glow coming from behind the curtains of room 13. He’s so close. “Thank you.”

He taps on the side of his helmet, sending a series of numbers that he’s sure Barbara will understand.

23-26-8-37

E-N-T-R

He can’t wait any longer.

While crawling, Dick made sure to get a good look at the motel’s doors and hinges. They’re standard, and though both Gotham and Bludhaven tend to have better locks than most other cities, Dick recognizes the model of the door and the wood it’s made out of. They’re thin enough for him to ram through. The hinges on the sides are rusted over as well, and Dick thinks they might just be weak enough to break. The windows however. The windows are his best bet. He doubts this kind of motel invests in bullet proof glass, and on some of the sills, he can see water damage. They leak. Poorly made. Meaning, if he ran at them, he could break through pretty easily.

But, if that doesn’t work. Or if he’s not fast enough to get on his feet once in. Or if the window is directly in front of Jason and the glass breaks all over him. Or if—

Stop. He can’t think about the what-ifs right now. Dick knows he can do this. Knows how to do this. There isn’t any more time to wait. He promised he would get Jason out of there, and goddamnit, he’s going to keep his promise.

“You’re being really quiet,” the woman mutters. “What’s going—”

Dick takes a deep breath and tenses. The light behind the curtain flickers. He needs to move. Now. Now.

Lightning splits across the sky and Dick can’t tell if it’s the glass shattering or the thunder that makes the other-worldly crack but it doesn’t matter because Dick lands feet first and is tucking and rolling before the occupants have a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” someone screams, but Dick isn’t paying attention to them because his gaze zeroes in on his brother, tiny, thirteen year old Jason, who’s tied up on one of the beds and staring right at him.

He can’t linger long though because he hears the words, “Get the gun!”, and he’s up on his feet again, rushing the closest person. It turns out to be the husband, a balding man with a patchy neck-beard, and Dick bunches up his fist and swings, socking the man in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing, and Dick can see the small pistol in the man’s right hand, and Dick strikes down on his shoulder, kneeing him simultaneously. The pistol drops and so does the man, groaning, and Dick turns to the woman, who is staring at him like an animal cornered.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yells, pocket knife trembling in her grip as she shoves it in Jason’s face. “I’ll stab him, I will!”

Dick holds up his hands, sidestepping the groaning man. “Put the knife down.”

“No!” the woman argues, a strand of black hair falling into her mouth. “Now I told you- stay there! Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill this kid, you hear! I’ll fucking slice his throat open!”

With how scared the woman is, and how precarious she holds the pocket knife, which Dick can see is dull even from where he’s standing, he knows it’s not an idle threat. Scared people will do anything to get out of the situation they’re in. Scared people are unpredictable and dangerous.

But so is Dick.

So is Jason.

“I’m not going to move,” Dick reassures, eyes flickering towards his brother, “so, please, drop the knife. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?” the woman shrills, jerking the knife closer to Jason’s jawline. “You just killed my husband!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Dick corrects. “He’s just unconscious. Come on now. It’s just you and me. Let’s talk this over. I can still get Landon out if you give me back my brother. It’s as easy as that, alright? Just put down the knife, and we’ll talk. Does that sound okay?”

The woman looks like she’s considering it, the hand holding the knife still trembling, when the first sirens enter the lot. Red and blue light flash through the broken window as rain seeps into the curtains.

“You rat!” she screams, furious and terrified and desperate all at once. “You fucking called the cops! You broke—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jason snaps his head back, headbutting the woman directly in the nose. He falls to the side, getting out of range of the knife, and Dick takes his cue, leaping forwards and gripping the woman’s wrist and squeezing, weapon falling from her grasp. There’s blood spurting from her nose and Dick throws her to the floor, getting her on her stomach and hands behind her back. He sits on top of her, his weight overpowering any strength she has left, and in the next few seconds, police are banging on the door.

“This is the GCPD! Open up and put your weapons down!”

“You can come in!” Dick shouts, holding the squirming woman in place. “We’re unarmed!”

Things happen quickly after the door bangs open, several officers pouring in like the Bludhaven storm. As soon as an officer handcuffs the woman he’s on top of, Dick is rushing to Jason’s side, another officer cutting away his bindings. His younger brother turns to him, about to say something, but Dick cuts him off with a crushing hug, cradling the back of Jason’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick whispers, gathering his brother more fully into his arms. “I should’ve been there sooner. God, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“I-I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Jason confesses, hiccuping. “When Bruce didn’t pick up, I thought it was because he didn’t want me anymore. I-I told her that, I told her Bruce wasn’t coming but she wouldn’t listen and-and I—”

Dick wraps his arms more securely around the sobbing preteen in response, gently rocking back and forth as the mattress springs squealed under the pressure.

“I know I haven’t always been around,” he says, uncaring about the snot dribbling into his shirt, “and I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t rely on me to come and get you. You’re my brother, though, and I will always come running when you call. No matter what. I promise, Jay. Anywhere, anytime, I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jason wheezes, the adrenaline from before slowly releasing its hold. “I trust you.”

Dick presses his face into his brother’s hair, relief washing over him as his heart slows. He’s never had a sibling before. Things were still tense with Bruce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a big brother. There isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for this kid in his arms right now.

“What’re brothers for, right?” he mumbles.

The rain doesn’t stop and pours and pours and pours. Dick just holds Jason tighter.

The real storm was over.

Five months later

It’s Thursday.

Time: 11:47 a.m.

The stone is nice. White marble. Shiny. Expensive.

There are fresh flowers. Roses and yellow daisies. The dirt is still new too. Evidence of freshly upturned earth. Dick reaches down and pulls out a weed that’s sprung up at the corner of the stone. Tosses it away.

He doesn’t have flowers. He has a newspaper in his left hand. Reads: Mourning billionaire sets off on trip to Europe.

Jason died a month before he got back from across the universe.

Anywhere, he had said. Anytime. I promise I’ll be there.

He crumples the newspaper into a tight ball and shoves it into his pocket. Stares at the stone. The sun is out. There are no clouds in the sky. It’s nice.

It’s a nice day.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, a familiar burn in the back of his eyes. “Fuck.”

Anywhere, anytime.

Dick Grayson is an only child once again.

[ratmonky]

After The Storm

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: choking, breeding, biting, mild knife-play, smoking, munkey’s self indulgent ass

AO3 Link

@kingtamakimurder​ thank you for always inspiring me and making me smile ((; pls accept this as your early birthday gift

The downpour came after the peal of thunder almost instantly, it was heavy and rapid.

People around cursed and started running around to take shelter from the heavy rain. 

One man stood there calmly, unresponsive to the rain droplets falling soaking his clothes. He clicked his tongue before opening the umbrella he had been holding onto.

The weather report was right as always, the channel he had watched this morning had reported that there would be heavy rain around the evening time.

Lines of rainwater from the top of his umbrella dripped down in front of his gaze as he brought a cigarette up to his lips. Using his cheap spark wheel lighter, he lit his cigarette with a deep inhale. His eyes were trained on the exit of an apartment building as he was putting away his lighter, waiting for someone who fit the description.

The cigarette smoke he blew left a stale taste in his mouth. He had been standing here for a while, hadn’t eaten or anything. It was boring but he knew it wouldn’t be long until something interesting happened.

The calm before the storm.

Then, finally, after a long time of waiting, the target was in his view. A young woman entered the building, clothes soaked with rain, carrying a bag of groceries.

He watched the code the woman pressed into the lock and crushed his cigarette under his shoe.

Time to move.

~~~

You stared at your phone screen to check the time and walked inside your apartment building. There were a lot of unread text messages from people you knew but you tried your best to ignore them.

When you pushed the elevator button, you were fantasizing about how you were going to strip your clothes off as soon as you got inside your apartment and fill up the bathtub with warm water. There was an open bottle of white wine from a couple of days ago, you could eat the grapes you had just bought too. 

Today would be your pamper day, you decided.

After a long week of working, it was only natural that you deserved to do a little bit of self-care.

If you remembered it right there was an unopened pack of your favorite chocolate bar in the kitchen cabinet too! Ugh, today was going to be perfect! 

You got on the elevator while trying to decide which show you would watch after your much-needed bath, omitting the man who had entered the apartment building with your code.

The elevator doors closed with a soft chime. You looked down to your feet to notice how water had pooled under you. You had probably left a puddle of water on the main floor as well while waiting for the elevator. The janitor was going to be really mad, you should have listened to the weather reporters who had warned the citizens about the heavy rain. 

Internally apologizing to the janitor, you left the elevator on your floor, heading straight to your apartment. Water droplets falling from your clothes left a trail after you. A loud groan left your lips, the janitor would definitely know you were the culprit.

You unlocked your door and entered your apartment, rubbing at your eyes. You were feeling a little drained. Nights had been more sleepless than usual but you knew as soon as you got in the tub full of hot water and bath salts, the heavy feeling would lift, and you would be renewed. 

Kicking off your shoes, you started getting rid of your clothes by the doorway to avoid soaking the floorboards with water. Your clothes were sticking to your skin and peeling them off took you a minute longer than usual but once you were only in your underwear, you carried the grocery bag to the kitchen. 

Quickly making your way to the bathroom, you turned on the faucet to let the bathtub fill. You grabbed your wet clothes and ran into the bathroom with them, squeezing the excess water before hanging them on the clothing rack for them to dry. 

The bathtub had only filled halfway when you went inside your room to put on your favorite robe. It felt a little weird walking around in your undergarments even if you were alone. 

Back in the bathroom, you checked the temperature of the water with the glass of white wine you filled earlier. You opened one of the big bath bombs you had, using it instead of bath salts felt like a better idea. You could stand and watch the satisfying colors emerge from the bath bomb. It was always mesmerizing to see. 

Your thoughts were interfered with by a heavy knock on your door. You weren’t expecting any guests. In a hurried motion, you tightened your robe using the string around your waist before walking out to the doorway. 

Getting on your tiptoes, you looked through the peephole to see who it was. It was a man with his dipped low. He banged on the door this time, startling you enough to gasp. 

Now, unlike your old apartment, the door didn’t have a chain lock on it. You had actually bought that specific lock a couple of months ago but you had been procrastinating on installing it and today you cursed yourself for always leaving the things you actually needed to do for tomorrow.

You grabbed the door handle hesitantly and opened the door to see what the man wanted. Your free hand was clutching the fabric on your chest. The door only opened until there was enough space for you to peek out but not enough space for the man to see inside.

“Can I help you?” you asked, voice flat, kind of annoyed. How dare he disturb your pamper routine. 

“That’s why I’m here,” he replied. He was tall and muscular, which irked you. “A colleague gave me your name, and said you treated people who couldn’t go to a hospital-”

You suddenly opened the door wider and shushed him. He raised a brow and glowered down at you, with the way his eyes squinted at you, you felt like an insignificant pebble on a crosswalk.

“I-I don’t do it h-here,” you explained, a hundred names crossed your mind and you tried to remember which one of your contacts was stupid enough to give this man your name but you couldn’t think of anyone. Even if you did… nobody knew where you lived, meaning, this man had found you all by himself. “You should leave, I’ll come by that bar in Shibuya next week, as usual, I’ll see you there.”

You made a move to close the door.

“Hold up.” The man put his hand on the door, blocking you from closing it. “I can’t wait that long.” His grip on the door tightened, you could swear you saw his veins pop up. 

“I-I can’t help you right now, sir!” You tried slamming the door closed by using your entire weight to push it but the door seemed to just open wider. Yelping, you looked at the large man in horror. 

“Why is that?” he demanded, his voice sounded terrifying, there was an underlying tone of rage as if he was ready to snap. Right now, he was technically standing by the door frame, if he took one step forward, the door would be wide open and he would invade your home.

“It’s not an appropriate time,” you said honestly. 

“You’re lying,” he called you out immediately, narrowing his eyes at you. “Some stitching, once it’s done I’ll be gone,” he insisted.

“Sir, please, if you don’t leave I will scream,” you replied, simple and to the point. 

“I thought you people swore on an oath or whatever to help those in need? Like; patients will be my first consideration yada yada.”

“We pledge to service!” you corrected, “And you seem perfectly fine to me! Leave before I call the police!”

He moved away from the door and you almost fell face forward onto the tile floor. You were getting ready to cuss him out when he lifted his shirt. 

Quite unlike a nurse, your mouth gaped at the sight, quickly you looked away.

He scoffed at your reaction, “Not very professional, are ya?”

You heard your next-door neighbor open their door, knowing what the view would look like to them, in a wave of panic you grabbed the man, pulling him inside the cramped doorway. It wouldn’t have been that jarring to have a man lift his shirt up in front of your door if it wasn't for the evening hour, which permitted a lot of gossip for your neighbors.

Getting on your tiptoes, you looked through the peephole, your neighbor walked past your door with their dog without a glance in your direction. 

You heard the soft thuds of footsteps moving further away and suddenly remembered the unknown man you had inside your apartment. By the time you whipped your head around to see what he was doing, he had already disappeared into your living room.

“Sir,” you called, crossing your arms on your chest. “I need you to leave.”

He threw himself on the couch, putting his foot up on your coffee table. “You invited me inside.”

“N-no, it was just because I didn’t want any misunderstandings between me and my neighbors.” 

While you were busy explaining yourself he found the remote control and turned on the television, flicking through the channels.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” You stomped your foot, “I’ll call the police if you don’t leave my house right now!”

Unresponsive, he continued flicking through the channels until he found a rerun of a thriller movie. 

With a grumble, you went to grab your phone from the bathroom and walked back to the living room. “I’m serious!”

He was still unfazed.

“Okay, that’s it!” Your fingers fumbled on the screen, trembling as you dialed in the number. You lifted the phone up to your ear, it was on the first ringing beep when the man spoke.

“Don’t you think that they’ll ask me why I’m here?” He turned his head to look at you with a mocking look on his face. “What makes you think that I won’t tell them about your underground hospital?”

Your blood ran cold. It took you less than a second to hang up the call. 

He scoffed.

The money you got from your usual job didn’t pay well but criminals… they paid more than well. As long as you kept your mouth shut, didn’t ask too many questions, and treated them, you got paid your monthly income per patient. 

You needed the money.

“You’ll leave once I’ve treated you?”

A nod.

You let out a sigh and disappeared into the bathroom to grab your medical kit. You pulled a chair next to the dinner table and placed some tools on the table. “Sir,” you called, “Sit here.”

“Toji,” he said, turning off the television before walking to the chair. 

There was no need for you to know his name, you weren’t going to see him ever again.

Toji reached to his back, his fingers dragged the fabric up, once he managed to hook a finger under it, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. He stood shirtless in front of you, his muscles flexed as he draped his shirt over the chair. 

“Enjoying the view?”

You weren’t moving, eyes trained on Toji intently when he called you out. You breathed slowly through your mouth only, internally begging yourself to calm down. You grabbed a damp cotton pad soaked in alcohol and pressed it against a gash on his abdomen. He didn’t wince or flinch. While you were cleaning the gashes and the dried blood to get a clean canvas to work with, you noticed many different scars on his body. 

Some were faint, some were improperly healed.

His ribcage was covered with those scars, the ragged rip in his flesh was going to be only one another story to tell like any other of his scars.

“Wanna tell me how this happened? Who did it?”

“A curse.”

“A curse,” you echoed. It made you snicker which also gave him the answer to something he had been wondering.

Putting the cotton pad down, you grabbed the sterilized needle and a thread before kneeling in front of him. You pushed the needle through his skin and pulled it out on the other side of the gash. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked abruptly.

“N-no,” you stuttered, confused as to why he had asked you this question. He wasn’t trying to flirt, was he? “Why did you ask?”

“The way you’re dressed, it’s like you’re waiting for your man.” His voice had an edge to it as if he was saying each word after careful thought, knowing what your reaction would be. 

Your cheeks flushed bright pink, not helping the situation and giving him the reaction he was looking for. You would have covered more of your chest but you were busy stitching his wound. 

There was a need to change the subject but you found yourself asking him the same question. “What about you? Do you have someone?” Your voice died out quietly when you noticed what you were asking could imply that you were interested in him.

“Divorced.” Was his answer.

“Oh.” The needle sunk into his flesh one last time, you pulled it from the other side of the wound, done with your stitching. “Any kids?”

“Probably.”

The way he answered made the question you jolt but you didn’t dig it any further. Instead, you grabbed another damp cotton pad to clean his stitches before putting a bandage over them. 

“Done, don’t shower until next week,” you paused, realizing that you were going to see him next week. “I’ll have to take the stitches out once they’re healed.”

“No need,” he replied, smirking while looking down at you. He was simply enjoying the view of you on your knees. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Ah… okay.” You removed your latex gloves and tidied up the floor. “That’ll be around 12 000 Yen.”

Toji barked out in a laugh.

“W-what?”

“That much for sewing some skin together? I could’ve done it myself if I had taken some sewing classes.” He leaned forward on the chair, his biceps flexed hypnotizingly as his hand reached for your face. You didn’t move away, it was happening too fast. He squeezed your cheeks together until your lips puckered, his eyes sparkled with dark amusement. “Why not lower your price, whaddaya say, kitten?”

Something in your body switched.

Your head shook, you tried speaking but the words came out weird. “It’s ‘cause you invaded my home and forced me into this.”

Toji was still able to understand what you were saying. Your response annoyed him, for some reason he couldn’t articulate. He sighed heavily after cocking his head to the side. “How about I pay you back with something else?”

His eyes wandered down on your chest and then lower and lower and lower-

You closed your eyes shut, what was happening to you? This… He made you feel weird, no matter how attractive Toji was, he was still a stranger! What are you doing? Say no.

“N-no, I want the money.”

“Hmm, really?” He leaned in closer, you could feel his hot breath on your face. “Is that really what you want?”

“I need the money.” I need you to fuck me.

You heard the chair creak as he leaned even closer, then you felt his lips brush against your earlobe.

“(name).” 

Ahh, the way he whispered your name into your ear made you tremble. You couldn’t help shuddering at the contact. You were falling to pieces. You were losing yourself. 

“Toji,” you echoed, opening your eyes. His hazy gaze was already on you. 

He released your cheeks and leaned back on the chair, placing a hand on his crotch, gripping his bulge, smirking.

Your mouth was gaped open, watching his hand as he palmed himself through his jeans. 

“Wanna take a closer look?”

You mindlessly nodded. 

Toji patted a free hand on his knee, urging you to sit on it. You weren’t thinking when you climbed up on his knee, your mind was blank, only the need to be filled by something firm and large filled your senses.

Eyes trained on Toji’s hard cock, trapped in the rough fabric, you settled on his knee. He grabbed your hand and slowly placed it on his bulge, instructing you to squeeze it to feel how large it actually was. His jeans didn’t do much justice, the size you felt by cupping his bulge wasn’t at all visible through them.

“It’s big.” Your eyes stared unblinkingly down at his clothed cock. Would it fit inside me?

Toji hummed, his size wasn’t any news to him. He placed his hands on your waist, feeling you up while you were busy rubbing your small hands on his growing erection. God, it keeps getting bigger.

“Are ya gonna keep playing with it over the pants?” he asked, moving his knee side to side for whatever reason. You didn’t pay much attention. “Are ya listening?”

A sound escaped you when his knee pressed against your pussy. Was that what he was trying to do just now?

One look at Toji’s face gave you the answer.

Toji bounced his leg gently, your legs trembled and you held onto him.

“You’re more sensitive than I thought,” he said, placing his hands on your hips, gripping harshly to move them along his knee.

Your eyes were starting to roll and flutter as he pressed you down on his knee, the friction was mind-numbingly ecstatic, and his wandering hands were just adding to the pleasure. It was all too much, the heat from Toji, large hands teasing your body over your robe with slowly paced strokes, and his overwhelming musky scent. 

All of your senses were rearing up, telling you to get on all fours and let this man you met barely an hour ago fuck you silly. The attraction was undeniable and clearly mutual yet unpredictable. 

“Ahh, I wanna mess you up so badly,” he said suddenly, his hands went under your robe, hiking the fabric up to see more of the supple flesh of your thighs.

You mewled in response. 

He leaned to put his head on your shoulder, “If I were to,” -he grabbed a chunk of your ass, “-tell you that I wanna see you on top of me, what would ya do?”

Your breath hitched. 

“I-I don’t know,” you managed, her voice quivering. I wanna feel your weight on top of me.

He noticed your discomfort. “I think you'd want me to be on top, am I right?” 

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“You’re being too vulgar.” You tried sounding serious.

His hand left your hip, he reached to your face instead. You gasped softly when he tucked your hair behind your ear. “I can feel your pussy throbbing on my knee.”

Stunned, your eyes widened and you stumbled on your words. “N-no-” you protested, voice trembling. 

The intense look he gave you with a raised eyebrow made you blush furiously.

“I m-mean-” You meekly looked up at him. “When you say it like that, you make me look like a… like a…-”

“A slut?” he filled in. He let out a sigh, placing a hand behind your head and pulling you towards his face. “Isn’t it a little too late to reintroduce yourself?”

“I’m just not like this.” You pouted at him. “I’ve never been like this before.” 

A grin broke out on his face and he laughed, rubbing the back of your head. “I find that hard to believe, you were trying to seduce me from the moment you opened the door.”

You gasped suddenly, “I would never-”

“You’ve soaked my pants with your cunt, young lady.” Toji teased with a smile. “I can’t do or say anything more vulgar than that.”

A momentary silence hung between the two of you, your face had turned beet red. “With that settled... Do you know the name of the thing you were touching?”

Your body trembled at his blunt approach, oblivious to how close he had gotten.

“It’s a cock,” he breathed. “Say it.”

He leaned in closer and as he got closer you could see his features more clearly. Your eyes were on the scar on his lip, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to trace it with your tongue. “C-c-clock-” you gave up.

He put an arm around your waist, pulling you a lot closer. “Unless you say what you want from me, I won’t be able to pay you back,” he murmured, his eyes hazy.

You gave him a shaky smirk to cover your own embarrassment. “I--I want you to touch me.” I want you to fill all my holes.

“Be more specific.”

You wanted his large hands to cup your breasts and slide down, down down until they found your sacred place. You wanted him to rest the weight of his cock on your face, you wanted his lips on your slick heat, and you... You-

The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted him to touch you.

Toji looked at you as if he knew what you were thinking and bit his lip. “Come on, say it.”

“I want,” you started, body trembling with anticipation. “I want you to ruin me with your cock.”

He pressed a hand on the small of your back, bringing you even closer to him. Instantly, his lips crashed onto yours, he snaked his tongue inside your mouth savoring your sweet taste.

You lifted your leg and crossed it over his leg to sit on his lap. He pressed you down onto his crotch, you could feel the enormous erection underneath the rough fabric, pushing against your own clothed entrance. He could slip his cock right inside your pussy if you were both naked.

Desperate and needier than ever, you started grinding on his erection, humping him like a bitch in heat.

He growled into the kiss, his strong hands bouncing you harder on his erection. He was getting impatient, just like you. He needed to feel your walls clamp on his cock right at this moment or he would literally snap--

His large hands grabbed you firmly by your ass and he stood up from the chair. You yelped in panic before wrapping your arms around his neck to avoid falling. (As if Toji would drop you.) 

He carried you to your bedroom, dropping you hard against the mattress. Within barely a second, he was on top of you, hastily pulling his pants down. You followed his example and hooked a finger under your panties but Toji growled at you to leave them be.

“I’ll take them off,” he demanded in a low keen tone, his hand tightly gripping onto something.

Dumbfounded, all you could do was to nod and wait for him. 

Toji was completely naked when he flicked his pocket knife open. A wave of panic washed over you as he pressed the dull part of the knife on your chest. He was smirking encouragingly to put you at ease. He looked far too confident in what he was planning to do.

You yelped when he cut your bra off by the middle. Your tits gave a single bounce while Toji’s eyes feasted on the sight of them.

His hand cupped your breast and as he kneaded the soft flesh, he sliced a part of your panties. You lifted your torso up from the bed to shimmy out of your bra and robe. You threw them out of the way. Having your tit in his reach again, Toji pinched your perky nipple, put the knife down, and then brought both of his hands on your panties to rip the rest of the fabric off.

He brought the fabric up to his nose and took a deep inhale, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Decidedly, Toji grabbed you by the hips and pulled you completely under him, his rock-hard cock threateningly loomed over your leaking pussy.

Like he said, you liked him on top. It was a mesmerizing sight to see, his hair stuck to his forehead because of sweat, his eyes hazy with lust, lips agape to the sight of you under him. You could tell he was admiring the sight just as you were. You blushed faintly. 

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, resting his fingers on your lips. 

You obliged right away.

He pushed his fingers inside your mouth, covering the digits with your saliva before taking them out to grab his cock. His eyes didn’t leave yours even for a second, he gave a couple of pumps to his shaft and pressed the tip on your clit. 

With a mewl, you bit your lip. 

Toji dragged his cock along your folds as you started moving your hips impatiently. He was clearly teasing you but he cut it short, inserting the tip of his large cock in your pussy.

“It hurts, take it out!” you tried to move away from his cock but he held you in place.

“It’s just the tip.”

Although it was only the tip, you felt it stretch your walls and fill you up to the brim. The feeling didn’t go away either. Each time you thought he had inserted the entire length of his cock, he kept pushing his hips forward.

When his hips finally met yours, there were tears in your eyes, your chest heaved as your lips trembled. 

“You’re so tight.” It’s you who’s got the enormous dick.

Toji pulled his hips back and slammed into your pussy with enough force to make your bed frame bang on the wall. You basically yelled out a moan and he started fucking you at an animalistic pace. His thrusts were brutal, you kept sliding up on your bed and he followed you to plant his cock to the deepest part of your cunt. Your fingers grasped onto the sheets under you, trying to stay where you were but it felt useless. His weight was more than enough to fuck you frantically at the same time he continued to punch a hole into your wall with your bed frame.

He slapped a hand on your neck to hold you in place, he stretched his fingers before wrapping them around you, his single hand was big enough to wrap around your neck. Your hands immediately went to grab on his wrist, you weren’t sure if you were trying to hold onto him for support or because he was practically crushing your windpipe but you couldn’t think properly.

Using his other hand, he forced your legs on his shoulders so he could shove his cock even deeper inside of your pussy. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Your walls clamped on his cock as you started to panic over not being able to breathe. You kept getting tighter and tighter. Trying to greedily milk Toji’s cock of his seed.

The thought of fucking you until your abused hole overflowed almost made him cum. Toji spat in your open mouth in the heat of the moment, how dare you try to cut the fun short with your clenching gummy walls! He placed his second hand on your neck as well. “Swallow it,” he snarled, his pace slowed.

You couldn’t. 

He was putting too much pressure on your neck, you felt like you forgot how to use your tongue to swallow the simple liquid. 

In a wave of panic, both of your hands went to your neck. You dug your nails on his hands, scratching the skin for him to let you breathe. Your vision was getting blurry and it wouldn’t be long until you passed out.

Unamused, Toji lifted the pressure off of your neck to instead pick up his slackened pace with his face buried in your neck.

You hadn’t even got to take a deep breath when you choked on both your and his spit. He was rougher than you thought he would be, like an untamed animal.

“I forgot how fragile women are.” Audibly talking to himself, Toji snapped his hips forward, making your toes curl. His teeth sank hard into your neck, enough to make it bleed. He sucked and licked on your neck, steadily nibbling on it while you moaned. The pain was pleasurable, you were going insane. This was it, you were about to see the stars. Weird, he hadn’t even touched you there yet you were already a mess. You wondered what you looked like. Had your makeup melted from your tears and spit? 

“I’m close,” he informed, his voice huskier than before. Your legs started to shake, you reached your arms to him wanting to hold onto him. He leaned closer, letting you put your hands wherever they could reach as one of his hands reached between your legs to rub on your clit. Your tight walls clenched on his cock at once.

His vigorous pace and speed slackened, unable to resist your gummy walls any longer. Toji slammed his hips into yours, his balls slapped against your ass with a loud clap and his thick cock twitched. He was all the way inside you, from tip to the base. Your high came first, his finger flicked on your clit as your walls squeezed around him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping that the euphoria would last a lifetime. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head while your orgasm shook you to your core. You hadn’t come this hard before with anyone else. Everything felt unreal.

Toji spilled his thick and creamy seed deep inside your fertile womb with a groan. He continued moving his hips to fuck his seed into your pussy. You could feel his hot seed run down from your pussy to your ass, leaving a sticky feeling.

Once satisfied, he pulled out and threw himself on the bed next to you. His bandages were bleeding through, you noticed at the same time you were trying to catch your breath.

It was silent for a while. 

The only noises in your room were the two of your breathing sounds. He managed to get his breathing in control quicker than you.

Without speaking, Toji sat up and grabbed his jeans from the edge of the bed. You watched him take a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans. He then laid next to you, putting a cigarette between his lips. He offered you one as well and you accepted out of courtesy.

You were far too tired to tell him to not smoke inside so you had joined him.

He lit your cigarette first, you inhaled the smoke as deep as you could before letting it go. Your muscles were spasming everywhere, your legs hadn’t stopped shaking but the nicotine helped bring your senses back. Your nerves eased with each inhale.

“Did the payment go through?” he joked, chuckling softly. His hair was a mess, he noticed your stare and ran his fingers through his hair to comb it.

“Definitely,” you snickered. 

Toji pulled you closer to himself until you settled to his side, with your head on his chest and your arm over his torso. You two kept on smoking in the bed like that.

“When I come back to have my stitches removed, will you take the same payment method?” His tone was flirty, full of promises. “Huh, kitten?”

“I thought you were going to remove them yourself?” A genuine laugh escaped from your lips. 

“What can I say, I liked your treatment style.” It was just an excuse to see you again. “So, whaddaya say?”

“Absolutely no! Not after all that choking stuff!”

Nevertheless, when Toji came back to your place the day after, a lot sooner than he should have, you didn’t say anything about the toothbrush he brought with him.

[roseworth]

'cause i know you won't

word count: 6.8k

description: “As much as I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family…" the King said. "We can’t have a criminal living in the castle. Even a reformed criminal.”

Eugene and Rapunzel are separated by circumstance, and they need to learn how to live their new lives without each other.

(title inspired by One More Weekend by Maude Latour)

AO3

“Mr… Fitzherbert,” King Frederic said, his face stoic. “My daughter has told me you played a substantial role in her return home.”

“Oh, well, she did most of the work,” Eugene responded, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I, uh, I just wanted to keep her safe.”

The King hummed in approval, scanning his face. “She certainly cares a lot about you.”

“And I care about her, too.”

“I see,” he said simply, then cast his gaze away. “As much as I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family… we can’t have a criminal living in the castle. Even a reformed criminal.”

Eugene nodded. “I understand, Your Majesty.” He kept his eyes glued to the floor in front of him. He wasn’t sure he could trust his own face if he looked up at the King.

“However, I have pardoned all your previous crimes in Corona. As of now, you are a free man in the kingdom,” he said as he handed Eugene a small stack of papers. Records that he had been pardoned. “And as promised, you will receive a reward for the return of the Princess.”

He didn’t want a reward.

“Thank you, Sir.”

The King examined him for a moment, then sighed. “I understand that you and Rapunzel are… close. But there’s no room for you in her new life, and I hope you can both accept that.”

Eugene forced a smile. “Yes, I understand, Your Majesty. Trust me, this pardon is more than I could ever ask for.”

Frederic nodded curtly, then extended his hand for Eugene to shake. Eugene shook it quickly and stood up, praying his legs wouldn’t collapse under him. He quietly walked out of the room before the King could change his mind and throw him in a prison cell.

He was a free man for the first time in… he didn’t know how long. He was running from guards for as long as he could remember. It felt wrong to walk past them now without fear of being arrested.

What would he do now? He honestly didn’t think he was going to make it this far. He was half-expecting to be strung up as soon as Rapunzel was safe. Yet he had still let himself hope that he could stay with her. That was his mistake.

As he walked down the hall of the castle on his way out, he glanced over at the door leading to Rapunzel’s new room. Her mother had brought her there to show her around and spend more time with her as the King talked to Eugene. She was probably still in there if he wanted to say goodbye.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at the door for a long time. Should he say goodbye? He wasn’t sure when he would see her again, and he did care about her. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

But maybe it would be better if he didn’t. It would be easier for her to let him go if he just left. It was like the King said, there was no room for him in her new life. She had her parents now, and a whole kingdom. She didn’t need him to cause problems when she’s finally happy.

Then again, maybe it would be better for closure if he said goodbye. So she could see that she didn’t need him, and she could easily transition into life without him. But that was selfish, wasn’t it? He just wanted to see her one last time even though it would hurt worse to see her again knowing that he could never be with her.

In the end, anything he could say to her would make it worse. He wanted to see her, but it would be better in the long run if he would just leave now without causing problems. That was what she needed, right? A life without problems. A life without people that would care more about themselves than about her. A life without him.

He took a deep breath and turned around, walking away from her room and out of the castle.

*

With the reward he received for rescuing the Lost Princess, he was able to buy himself a place to live in the kingdom. It certainly felt weird; having his own house and his own bed was all new to him. This life of not-crime was going to take some getting used to.

He had started talking to himself to cover the silence pretty quickly. Silence didn’t sit right with him now that he wasn’t hiding from anyone.

“Alright, straight-and-narrow day one!” he said cheerily, clapping his hands together. “Step one: make amends.” He figured if he was going to be living among the people of Corona, he couldn’t have them thinking of him as Flynn Rider anymore. He wanted them to know him as Eugene, and that started with fixing the mistakes Flynn Rider made.

Besides, making amends would be easy! Or it would be the hardest thing he’s ever done, he still wasn’t sure. Could go either way.

He opened the door and walked into the street, taking a deep breath and looking around. He would have to take it one by one, finding a way to make amends individually with everyone he had stolen from. That might take a while.

He didn’t steal anything too big from citizens. Most of his heists were taking from royalty and the elite, but he would often steal money or other essentials from normal people. It was enough to disrupt their lives, and they deserved some kind of restitution for that.

His first stop on his apology tour was the local shoemaker. Eugene had stolen a crate of boots from him a few years back, so he figured that was a good place to start. It wasn’t big enough that it was unforgivable, but it still might be memorable.

When he walked into the shop, he saw a familiar-looking mousy man with red hair standing behind the counter. The man looked up at him as he entered. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I don’t know if you recognize me but-”

“You’re Flynn Rider!” the man interrupted, his eyes widening.

Eugene laughed uncomfortably. “Yes, but I recently had my crimes pardoned and I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, starting with making amends for the things I’ve done wrong.”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “I heard you saved the Princess, is that right?”

“Well, kind of. I didn’t really do much to save her, just happened to climb a tower where the Princess happened to be,” he admitted. The cobbler chuckled.

“Well, Flynn, what can I do for you?”

“Actually, it’s more what I can do for you,” he said. “I stole some shoes from here a few years ago, and while I can’t un-steal them, I’d like to make it up to you somehow.”

The man paused in thought, looking Eugene up and down to try to distinguish whether or not he was lying. “Alright then, how much do you know about making shoes?”

Eugene grinned. “I’ve actually been repairing my own shoes for years!” he said proudly. He lifted his foot and pointed to his boot. “This shoe has fallen apart more times than I can count, but look at it now! Perfectly intact!”

The shoemaker inspected the shoe and hummed his approval. “Impressive cobblering!” he said. “How would you like to do some work to repay me for the shoes, Flynn?”

“That sounds perfect,” he replied with a grin. “And my real name is actually Eugene, not Flynn.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I get why you went by Flynn for so long,” he said with a shrug. “I’m Feldspar.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Feldspar,” he said. “And I’m sorry for stealing from you all those years ago.”

Feldspar waved a hand dismissively. “Well, Eugene , if you’ve really changed like you say you have, it’s glue under the sole,” he said. “That’s a cobbler phrase. It’s like ‘water under the bridge,’ but better, because it’s about shoes.”

Eugene laughed. “Got it.”

.

Over the next few days, Eugene learned more about shoes than he ever thought he would know. He learned that the things he had been calling “that thingy” and “that other thingy” for years actually had their own names (it was the “welt” and the “outsole,” Who knew?).

He had made more shoes than he had stolen, and he was honestly pretty proud of himself. He had done a job and not a “job.” Honest labor was a new concept to him, but it was very welcome.

“I think you’ve more than paid off your debts,” Feldspar said at the end of the day, polishing his equipment. “But if you ever wanted to work here permanently, I’d be more than happy to hire you.”

“Really?”

“Of course! You’ve got some real skill here.”

Eugene grinned proudly, looking at the shoes he made. “I would love to. I just need to finish making amends to everyone else first,” he said. “But if the offer still stands once I do that, that would be great.”

“You’re a good kid, Eugene,” Feldspar said, patting his shoulder. “I can put in a good word with the rest of the town. I’m sure they’d all love to hear you out.”

“I sure hope so,” he said. His tone was lighthearted, but they both knew he wasn’t really kidding. He truly did want the rest of the kingdom to realize that he had moved past his old life, and he wanted to make it up to them.

He arrived back at his house later that night and breathed a small sigh of relief. “One forgiveness down, a thousand more to go,” he said to himself. “But that wasn’t so bad! I could have done this years ago!”

And maybe if I had done this years ago, the King wouldn’t have seen me as just a thief, and I could-

He closed his eyes and waved his arms in front of himself as if he could swat away the thought. He couldn’t dwell on Rapunzel. He had to move on. Even if she had changed his life for the better and brightened his entire outlook on life, and she was maybe the only person he had ever truly cared about.

Yeah, he had to forget about what he had lost, and stay focused on what was ahead of him. He sighed, running his hands over his face. He wondered if she was doing okay. She had been home for over a week now, and he hoped she was adapting alright.

He wished he could be there. He wanted to help her as best he could and make sure she was okay. She had other people now, a real family that loved her. He couldn’t provide her with anything.

But he missed her. He was constantly thinking about what it would be like if he didn’t have to leave her. He could be with the love of his life, and they would be happy. Maybe that was selfish. She deserved better than him, and he knew that. He was trying to move past the selfishness that he had held onto in his past.

He took another deep breath, trying to stop drowning himself in thoughts that would just hurt him. Instead, he chose to think about his forgiveness mission again. He still had a long way to go before he repaid all the debts he could, but he was proud of the small amount he had accomplished.

He knew he changed; he wasn’t who he was just a couple weeks ago. Himself from a month ago wouldn’t even recognize him now. He wanted to believe he really could be a better person than he was before. Abandoning the “Flynn Rider” persona might be the best thing he ever did.

.

He spent a lot of time the coming weeks meeting Coronans and doing what he could to make amends. Most of them just asked that he work to repay what he had stolen, which he was more than happy to do. Even though he wasn’t exactly the best at many of the jobs (apparently you can’t speed up baking by turning the oven to 600 degrees), he did his best to help out where he could.

His next stop was the blacksmith. He had been told that the blacksmith was kind, so hopefully, it wouldn’t be hard to get on his good side.

He approached the shop carefully, then waved to the man standing there. He looked tall and intimidating (especially since he was holding a huge hammer), so Eugene hoped the rumors about him being a gentle giant were true.

“Hi, uh, Xavier, right? My name is Eugene, but I used to go by Flynn Rider, and I stole some stuff from you. And I want to make amends for what I did,” he said. He had tried to get his opening statement down over time, but he never knew how to phrase the words ‘I stole from you and I can’t get your stuff back but I would really like it if you forgave me!’

Xavier smiled at him. “I appreciate the gesture, Eugene, but I do not believe you ever stole anything from me. So you don’t need to make up for anything!”

Eugene grimaced. “See, you don’t think I stole from you, but I know I did. Whenever weapons or gold would randomly disappear from here, that was usually me.”

“Oh,” the blacksmith said simply. He paused for what seemed like forever (but was really only a couple seconds), then chuckled. “I don’t know what you could do to make it up, but I do not mind that you took from me. I am sure you needed it.”

Eugene chewed on his lip. True, he definitely wouldn’t have survived without the weapons he stole, but that didn’t make it okay that he stole them. “Is there any work that you would need me to do? Or anything to just make your life a little easier? I want to make it up to you somehow.”

Xavier smiled. “You know what, I do have something. You’re an adventurer, right? Give me a good story, and I’ll consider your debts paid.”

He was taken aback, but smiled back anyway. “A story? Like what?”

“You saved the Lost Princess, right? How did that go?”

Eugene paused. He wasn’t sure how to tell a story like that. In all honesty, he was still grappling with everything that had happened, and he was pretty sure the story was going to sound insane. But the man asked for a story, and so as weird as it was, he was going to tell it as best he could.

“This is the story of how I died,” he said dramatically, then smiled. “Though, it’s not really my story. It’s Rapunzel’s.”

He launched into the story of the girl in the tower who only dreamed of seeing the lanterns, and the guy who only had a crown on his mind. There were quite a few holes in his story where he had no clue what happened. He had never figured out why her hair was magical in the first place, much less how Gothel found out about it.

Throughout the whole story, Xavier looked intrigued. He wasn’t sure how the man wasn’t at all phased by talk of magic healing hair and swordfighting horses, but he didn’t bother dwelling on it.

“And so, once I was brought back to life and she told me she was the Lost Princess, we went back to the kingdom. Now she’s with her family, and it’s the happy ending everyone wanted,” he finished. He looked at Xavier, trying to decipher what he was thinking.

“Wow,” he said. “That must have been quite a lot to go through.”

Eugene chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I know it sounds a little crazy, with all the magic and whatnot-”

“Trust me, I have heard all about that magic. The story of the magic healing flower has been passed down through generations.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, there have been myths about the Sundrop for millennia. It’s impressive that you got to see it in action.”

Eugene pressed his thumb into the palm of his left hand, rubbing it thoughtfully. The Sundrop’s powers were nothing compared to the way Rapunzel made him feel like his heart was bursting whenever she smiled, but that was neither here nor there.

“So, you are in love with the Princess, right?”

Eugene choked on his breath, then let out a shaky laugh. “Th-the Princess? Who? In love? Pfft, I don’t- I wouldn’t- I’ve never even met- I mean, I uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his hands fidgeting uncomfortably. Nice one, Fitzherbert, that was really convincing . Apparently, he completely lost his ability to lie when he stopped thieving. Fantastic .

Xavier simply smiled lightly. “The way you talk about her, it is easy to tell.”

Eugene sighed and shrugged halfheartedly. “It doesn’t matter, she’s with her family now. I couldn’t come in the way of her happiness.”

“Maybe her happiness is you, too.”

“Even then, a princess can’t be with a criminal. That’s just… that’s how it is.”

“Would a ‘criminal’ go around to everyone in town just to atone for every crime he once committed?”

Eugene’s gaze fell to the ground. He was trying to fix his past mistakes, but that doesn’t mean his mistakes didn’t happen. No matter how much he wanted to be a better person, he couldn’t undo what he had done.

After a brief silence, Xavier rested his hand on Eugene’s shoulder. “Well, Eugene, I’m glad you’re focusing on doing the right thing these days. And thank you for the story.”

*

Eugene had gone to all the townspeople and made amends within 3 months. Everyone was surprisingly receptive to his apologies, which made it easier. He still got the occasional glare as he walked down the street, but he did his best to ignore it. He had done what he could. He didn’t need everyone to like him, he just wanted to right his wrongs.

After he finished making his amends, he went back to the cobbler shop and took the job that Feldspar had offered him. He never would have guessed it, but he had a knack for making shoes. Having an honest job was new to him, but it was a welcome change.

.

6 months after he and Rapunzel had first returned to Corona and his crimes were pardoned, he had a steady job and was getting along the best he could with the others in the kingdom. Life was going pretty well for him, all things considered.

He was walking to work one day when a group of kids ran up to him with excited smiles on their faces. “Eugene!” Seth called out, waving his arm as he ran up to the man.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Can you tell them the story you told me last week?” the boy asked, gesturing to the other kids following him. “They don’t believe me.”

He smiled and sat down on the edge of the fountain in the street. He had a little bit of time before he had to get to work, right? “Alright, just a quick story,” he said. “This is the story of how I died,” he recited, sweeping an arm in front of himself. He stuck with that introduction whenever he told the story; he liked the way people reacted to the line. The kids’ eyes widened, and they sat on the ground in front of him, already completely engaged in what he was saying. “Well, don’t worry, it’s actually a very fun story, and the truth is it’s not even mine. This is the story of a girl named Rapunzel, and it starts with the sun…”

The kids hung onto his every word as he recounted the tale of the weirdest and best days of his life. He chose his words carefully, though, and made sure to keep out the part where he fell in love with Rapunzel. That small detail made the story seem more like a tale of lost love than the fun and rousing adventure that it was.

When he finished the story, his audience of children (and a few adults nearby that were pretending not to listen) looked stunned. “Whoa,” one kid said. “What happened to the chameleon?”

Eugene couldn’t help but smile at how the frog was the kid’s most important takeaway from the story. “Well, that little guy is still with the Princess,” he said. “And he’s living it up in the castle, blending into things just like he loves to do.”

Seth smiled excitedly. “You know, the Princess is coming into town today! Maybe you two can reunite now!”

“She— what?”

“Yeah! They announced that she’ll have a day in town before her coronation celebration!”

Eugene plastered on a smile but felt his stomach plummet. He didn’t know if he could see her without becoming a complete mess. He had been avoiding his feelings for months, but he was positive his resolve would break the second he saw her.

Besides, she wouldn’t want to see him. She had a whole new life, she must have moved on. He wasn’t going to hold her back, that wouldn’t be fair to her. She’d been living outside her tower for months, she probably didn’t think about him the way he constantly thought about her.

“Well, I should get to work, but it was great talking to you guys,” he said, standing up. The kids bid him goodbye, and he made his way to the cobbler shop. Making shoes would help distract him from thinking about Rapunzel. He just needed to focus on his work, everything would be fine.

.

“Did you hear the Princess is supposed to be in town today?” Feldspar said later that day. “I’ve heard you used to be friends with her,” he added with an eyebrow wiggle.

Eugene did his best to grin casually. “I heard, but I think I’m going to stay back. I’ve got a lot of shoes to finish.”

“Good on you! You know what we say in the shoe business: stitches before bi-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, you really shouldn’t call a princess that. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“I’m not just saying it about the Princess, it’s just an expression. All I’m saying is that in general, shoes should come first!”

Eugene didn’t bother arguing. He turned his attention back to the shoe he was working on. He didn’t have any interest in romance right now, given that he was still deeply in love with a girl he could never be with. That put a bit of a damper on his romantic life.

Later that day, a crowd gathered near the shop as it was announced that the Princess would be passing by. “Are you sure you don’t want to see her?” Feldspar asked. Eugene shook his head.

“I’m alright here,” he insisted.

Feldspar shrugged. “Well, I’m going. I’ve got to see what kind of shoes the Princess likes so I can make plenty of them.” He walked confidently out the door, and Eugene didn’t have the heart to tell him that the Princess didn’t wear shoes at all.

He immersed himself back into the work he was doing, shoving away the thoughts of Rapunzel clouding his head. That wouldn’t help anyone.

And still, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing out the window in the front of the store to see if he could spot her. As much as he tried not to care, his heart stopped when he caught a glimpse of her in the street. She was surrounded by guards, and she looked… sad. She had a smile on her face, but something about it seemed distant.

When they had been in town on her birthday, she had found so much joy in talking to everyone around town. Now, with guards on every side of her, all she could do was smile and wave at the citizens. No wonder she seemed so sad.

He noticed something in her expression change, and he couldn’t figure out why until he realized what she saw. She was looking directly at him through the window. Oh.

His heart quickened. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Should he wave? Should he pretend he didn’t see her? They both stared at each other through the window for a moment, neither of them moving, until she was pulled away by the guards.

When she was out of his line of vision, he sighed heavily and leaned against the table in front of him, trying to steady his breath. He wouldn’t let one moment of eye contact ruin him.

“You’re never going to believe this,” Feldspar yelled as he threw open the door of the shop. “She doesn’t even wear shoes!”

.

As it turns out, just a moment of seeing her was, in fact, all he needed to be completely wrecked. He didn’t think about how much he missed her until he saw her in person again.

Eugene was lying awake in bed that night, unable to stop thoughts of her from infiltrating his head. He couldn’t fall asleep just because he had seen her for maybe 10 seconds that day. He couldn’t even be surprised, he had always known this was exactly what would happen when he let himself think about her.

What hurt most was how unhappy she looked. Before, he was able to convince himself that she was happy in the castle, so he couldn’t keep her from that happiness. But she wasn’t happy. She was trapped again. She was being kept from what made her happy, and to make matters worse, there was nothing he could do about it.

A soft knock at the door momentarily pulled him out of his hole of wallowing in self-pity. He furrowed his brow and sat up. Who would be at his house this late? It was the middle of the night, who could possibly need him right now?

He got up and walked to the door, grabbing his sword on the way (he wasn’t sure why, it’s not like an intruder was going to knock on the door first). When he opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw who was waiting there. “Rapunzel?”

“Hi,” she greeted softly.

“What are you doing here? Are you okay?” Instinctively, he reached out to touch her face, tossing his sword to the side. She smiled softly and leaned into his hand.

“My friend Cass helped me sneak out,” she said. That didn’t answer either of his questions, but he moved on anyway.

“Why did you sneak out?”

“Being a princess is… great , but it- it’s just a lot. And I needed time away from the castle.”

Eugene paused, his eyebrows creasing with concern. He wished he had been there to help her. He had been afraid she was going to struggle assimilating into the life of a princess, and he should have been there.

And now she’s standing in front of him, looking scared and tired and excited all at the same time. She had a dark hood over her head, covering her face in shadows. He knew the King would have him killed if he found out that Rapunzel had run away to his house in the middle of the night, but at that moment he couldn’t even pretend to care. “Do you want to come in?”

She smiled and nodded, and he stepped aside to let her in. She looked around as she walked in, taking in every detail of the room. “This is a nice place,” she remarked.

Eugene shrugged. “It’s not very exciting, but it’s much nicer than anywhere I’ve lived before,” he said with a grin, then added, “I’m sure the castle is much fancier than this, though. And probably complete with lots of beautiful paintings by Princess Rapunzel herself.”

Rapunzel blushed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I’ve had a lot of new space to paint in my room,” she said. “I could probably paint a little in here if you’d like!”

“As much as I’d love that, I don’t think you want to spend your one night out of the castle painting my house,” he responded with a slight chuckle.

Her eyes fell to the floor as she rocked back and forth on her feet. “Oh, yeah,” she said under her breath.

“So, speaking of that,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Where are you going now that you’ve run away?”

She paused for a moment, then let out a small laugh. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just knew I had to come here, I didn’t think of what I’d do after that.”

“Well, if you don’t have any plans,” Eugene said with a grin. “How about I take you on a quick trip out of the kingdom?”

Her eyes widened. “Out of the kingdom? Like, past the wall?”

The King would absolutely kill him for this. And yet, he still could not care less. “Yeah, we can get out for tonight, then back in before anyone notices. What do you say?”

The bright smile he got in return could rival the sun itself. “I would love to.”

Eugene quickly pulled his boots on, and they headed out the door. Once they were out in the open, a familiar horse came into view. Maximus snorted as he met Eugene’s eye. “Hey, Max! Didja miss me?”

Max closed his eyes and shook his head aggressively. Eugene patted his head. “I missed you, too.”

“Max helped me leave the castle without being seen,” Rapunzel said, scratching the horse’s chin. “And he agreed to bring me here.”

“So then where’s the frog?”

“Pascal and Cass are both at the castle making sure no one knows I’m gone.”

“Wow, Blondie, you’ve got quite a network for your scheme,” he teased lightly. She giggled softly, her eyes lighting up at his nickname for her. “Well, we can’t have that all be for nothing! Let’s get going,” he said, sticking his arm out for her.

She grabbed it happily, and they climbed onto Max’s back to quickly and quietly make their way to the border wall. Max stayed ducked in shadows and trotted carefully to make sure his hooves didn’t make too much noise when guards would pass nearby.

They climbed over the wall, collectively heaving a sigh of relief once they made it out of Corona. They were past the guards and the wall, and now they had the rest of the night to explore the world outside of Corona.

Rapunzel’s smile grew with every step she took, looking around at the forest around her. The stars were hanging in the sky, shining down on her. Fireflies dotted the trees around them. The river next to her was flowing smoothly, the rushing adding peaceful background noise to the scene. “Wow,” she whispered, completely enamored by her surroundings. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

“Yes, I have,” Eugene answered without thinking, staring at the girl in front of him. Her green eyes were full of the same joy they had when she first left her tower. He could feel his heart doing cartwheels in his chest every time she smiled. The gentle breeze was hitting her face and letting her short hair wave back and forth.

She turned back to him and beamed at him. “Come on, we have so much more to see!” She grabbed his hand and rushed forward, and he was more than happy to be dragged along in her journey.

She stopped to study every new plant or tree she saw, and she made sure to greet every animal that came into her path. She skipped excitedly through the forest, constantly making note of things that she would need to paint next time she got the chance.

After a few hours, she found a soft section of grass and sat down, her legs stretched out as she leaned back on her arms so she could get a good view of the stars in the sky. She patted the ground next to her, gesturing for Eugene to lie down next to her. He did, but he was paying more attention to Rapunzel than he was to the stars.

“There are so many of them,” she whispered. “I learned the other day that they’re all distant piles of gas, far away from here. I guess it puts everything into perspective, thinking about how on that star, no one even knows who we are.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. From the perspective of a star millions of lightyears away, they were just specks. Not a princess and a criminal, but just… people. People that were sharing one moment together, just like millions of other people in the world.

She looked over at him and grabbed his hand. He smiled and leaned in closer to her. Her eyes fell shut as they drew closer to each other.

Then without warning, her eyes shot open and she moved away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, standing up and wrapping her arms around herself.

Eugene took a quick breath in, standing up and taking a step backward to give her a distance. “I- I’m so sorry, Rapunzel, I shouldn’t have tried to-”

“You left,” she interrupted quickly, her eyes gradually filling with tears.

“What?” His eyes flitted over her face, trying to decipher how she was feeling. She didn’t seem scared or mad, just... hurt. He felt a pang in his chest knowing that he was the reason she was feeling like that.

“You left, and you didn’t say goodbye. And they told me you were gone, and I didn’t believe them because I was sure that you would tell me when you left. But you didn’t,” she said quietly, her voice breaking with every word.

He didn’t answer for a moment, trying to remember how to speak. He should have known that she would have felt abandoned when he left without a word. He had been so sure he had made the right choice when he left, but looking at her now, he realized he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Looking back on it, his choice to not tell her when he was leaving the castle was entirely selfish. He couldn’t handle seeing her again, couldn’t trust himself to not run to her. So he had slipped away, hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with his own heartbreak seeing her face one last time before he went.

And here she was. He had left her behind without a word, yet she still came to him. After he abandoned her and completely cut himself off from her, she came back. That was what hurt most. He knew she deserved better than him. She deserved someone that would have the guts to see her one last time despite the world pushing them apart. It hurt that she was willing to come back to him after he hurt her.

And still, he loved her. He wanted to go back and fix all his mistakes and find a way to be with her. Ever since he had left months ago, there was not a day that went by where he didn’t think of her. It killed him that he had hurt her when all he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms and hold her so nothing could ever hurt her again.

She was looking at him with wide eyes as his throat dried up. His mind was swirling with all the thoughts and feelings he had tried to keep buried for months. He loved her. He wouldn’t blame her if she hated him and never felt the same way about him, but he loved her with his entire being. And he had no idea how to tell her that.

“Rapunzel, I’m so sorry I never said goodbye when I left. I had to leave to let you start your new life, but I thought it would be easier for both of us if I could just leave-”

“It wasn’t,” she said. “It wasn’t easier. I had no idea what I was doing, and all I did was wish you were there beside me.”

He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Trust me, Blondie, I felt the same way. I wanted to be by your side, and it hurt that I couldn’t be there with you.”

“It hurt me, too.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s… it’s not your fault that you had to leave,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. She stepped towards him and grabbed his hand hesitantly. “But I missed you so much.” She took another step closer, and he could almost feel her breath on his face. She was just inches away, and he tried to ignore his heart pounding out of his chest.

“I missed you, too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we should-”

The rest of his sentence was completely lost as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. His eyes widened, then immediately fell shut as he let his composure completely fall away. He pulled her closer, wishing he could live in this moment for the rest of his life.

He knew they shouldn’t be doing this. The King had tried to keep them apart for a reason, and they would have to leave each other behind again after tonight. But at that moment, he didn’t care about any logic. All he cared about was trying to communicate everything he felt about her through one kiss. Feeling her lips pressed against his was all that mattered to him. They had both been wishing they could be just like this for months, and being able to hold her felt like a dream.

They softly broke apart from the kiss, but their faces remained close together as they tried to catch their breath. She smiled at him, and he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when I left, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there with you.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay,” she whispered, casting her eyes to the ground. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I had to be the princess and separate us-”

“No, hey, don’t apologize for finding a new life, your real life,” he said, putting his fingers under her chin and softly tilting her head up to look into her eyes. “All that matters to me is that you’re safe and happy with your family.”

“But you’re part of my family. I’m happy with you,” she said, her eyes starting to water. He reached up to wipe a stray tear off her face.

“And I’ll always be here for you, Blondie. Princess or not, I’m always supporting you, even if it’s from afar.”

She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. They stayed like that for a moment, just enjoying each other’s presence while they could. They were acutely aware that the night would end sooner than they wanted it to, and they would have to go their separate ways yet again. It would be the same as before, but it hurt even worse now that they had gotten a taste of what they were missing.

But he would still love her no matter what. Even if they were apart for the rest of their lives, he still loved her more than he ever thought possible.

The night would end soon, and so would their time together. She would go back to the castle, he would go back to his house. He couldn’t do anything to change their situation, all he could do was hold her tighter and hope that the memories of her would keep him grounded.

Rapunzel looked up at the sky, her brow crinkling when she realized how soon the sun would rise. “We still have time tonight,” she said quietly. She didn’t know what would happen to them when the night ended, but she could only hope this wasn’t the end.

“Then let’s make the most of it,” Eugene replied, grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently.

Their eyes met, and he smiled at her. Every glance at her twisted his heart more, but he wouldn’t dare look away.

Despite everything, she was the love of his life, and he was hers. And even if he couldn’t be by her side, he wouldn’t trade that love for anything.

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 4

photo credit - @ssa-emilyhotchner​

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader 

warnings - canon typical criminal minds, stalking, angst. pretty tame chapter 

summary - “I’m on a date.” You responded flatly. The other end of the line went silent.

a/n - hi besties. so this chapter is p short compared to the last one, i had like  7k something chapter 4 and it just didnt feel right, BUT that means chapter 5 is basically done i just need to edit it soooooooooooo hopefully wont take a long time lol! enjoy, heart yall forever 

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3 

chapter 3 / chapter 5 

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The rest of the team was left in various levels of shock. Everyone was struggling to process the bomb of information that had just been revealed. With hindsight, it was easy to connect the strange levels of tension and intimacy that radiated between you and Hotch. What was more difficult to swallow, was the new understanding that Hotch had been keeping this secret for nearly five years. Random ‘trips’ that Hotch would take out of state or the subtle sprinkles of wealth showing up in the form of gifts suddenly made sense. 

This was completely uncharted territory for the entire team. Given Hotch’s history, it wasn’t too difficult to understand how protective he may be of any relationships post-Haley; but the magnitude of your relationship- both in terms of your status as well as length-, and the withholding of information even on the case was a different form of betrayal that couldn’t be kicked under the rug. 

Hotch had always been one of the fiercest advocates for unity, truth and an equal playing field when it came to information concerning a case,- Morgan was still feeling second hand embarrassment for Jordan- for him to be the one to hold back such influential info was difficult to fully wrap their heads around. Anger, of course, was felt and there would certainly be time for that anger- not even getting started on the amount of questions everyone was bound to have-, but as the team was silently processing, they all reached similar conclusions. Hotch was displaying a softness and side of him they hadn’t seen in a very long time and they wouldn’t let their valid frustrations get in the way of solving this case. 

Morgan was the first to speak, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I need to text Garcia about this.” He said, shaking the phone a bit. Everyone managed to laugh at that, all certain that Garcia would have the most interesting reaction to the news.  

“You know…, the other day when she was giving me a tour of her house, I pointed out a bottle of Dalmore 25 she had on the wall. She got really weird about it and I thought she was trying to play modest, but this, this makes a lot more sense.” JJ remarked lightheartedly. 

“So now we know Hotch has some game then, huh?” Morgan quipped, a large grin on his face. When everyone just stared blankly back at him, even more confused than they already were he continued. “Do you all not remember when he ‘magically’ got a bottle of Dalmore 45, those start at twelve grand” 

Reid was about to open his mouth and add to the conversation, but just as the words were leaving his mouth Hotch stormed back into the conference room. One hand was tightly balled in a fist while the other was gripping his phone. 

“She’s not answering her phone. Three times, it went straight to voicemail.” 

“She isn’t on set today, when she left this morning she told me she had work related errands to run.” Emily recounted, racking her brain for any more info about your whereabouts. 

Hotch strode over to an open laptop at the edge of the table, quickly hitting a series of buttons until a very flustered Garcia appeared on screen; her mouth dropping open when she saw Hotch. 

“Questions later Garcia,” Hotch opened, already anticipating that someone Derek would have informed her of the latest news, “I need you to track Y/N. I want her current and last location.” 

“Yes sir! I uh, I will do that right now for you.” Garcia responded, clearly doing her best to hold back the hoard of questions and comments she had. The sound of her vigorously typing filled the room. “Alright sir, so the bad news is that it looks like her phone is currently turned off, but! The last place it pinged at was outside of Chateau Marmont about three hours ago. Which for those of you who don’t know this place is notorious for being the A-lister hideaway-” 

“Garcia, do a wide search for her name and location for today’s date. Check to see if there’s been any media sightings on her whereabouts.” Hotch ordered. He hadn’t forgotten how uneasy it had made him once he found out how easy it was to locate you. Paparazzi were a different form of ruthless and he’d never realized how difficult it actually was for people in the spotlight until he met you. 

“Let me see…, yes sir you are right! I’m getting a bunch of hits of her entering the-” Garcia’s sentence falling off with an ‘oh’. 

“Garcia, what’d you find?” 

A headline popped up on the screen. 

“Emma Co-Stars Pictured Together Out At Lunch: Has The Love Moved Past The Screen?” 

Underneath, multiple photos of you quickly loaded. There you were, cheerily standing next to your co-star, looking up at him with a big grin on your face. The photos showed the two of you in different positions as you made your way inside. A few of him as he opened the car door for you. One of you with your arm wrapped loosely around his while you walked up the door. One of you ducking under his arm as you entered the restaurant. 

The tension in the room was palpable as everyone did their own mini attempt at profiling the photo. It was difficult, you’d clearly proven to be a great actress and they knew you were capable of manipulating your outward emotions. It was even more difficult considering it was just a handful of mediocre quality photos. 

Hotch was tightly gripping the edge of the table, forcing himself to keep a level head. He knew it was unreasonable to get angry over the idea of you with another man, but it didn’t help the pang in his heart as he recognized the genuine signs of happiness you were emitting. 

“JJ,” Hotch said, voice dangerously calm, “call the restaurant and have them discreetly tell Y/N that ‘Andi’ is calling her.” Discretion was the highest priority for him, the envelope being even further confirmation that the unsub was closely trailing you. The last thing he wanted to do was either trigger a violent reaction or cause him to go underground.

Back when the two of you had been together, out of an abundance of caution, you used to refer to Aaron as ‘Andi’ in public. You hated not being able to thank him in speeches or mention him in any capacity, so this had been your best way around it. 

“Yes sir.” JJ responded, quickly moving out of the room to make the phone call. 

“Garcia, do you have any leads on the kid that dropped off the envelope?” Hotch asked. 

“No sir. The car he left in was reported stolen a few days ago with no leads as to where it went. Camera feeds loose the car about three blocks away and his face was too obstructed to get any hits that way.” 

“Alright, once JJ comes back with confirmation Y/N’s gotten the message, I’m going to pick her up. I want the rest of you to work with Garcia and categorize these photos. Cross reference whatever you can to get a timeline.” Hotch ordered, the rest of the team not being to be told twice. 

-----

“Where the hell are you?” Aaron demanded. 

Even through the phone, you could tell he was absolutely seething. It was bad, by the time you had picked up the phone you’d amassed a total of twenty texts and nearly ten missed calls from Aaron; not even mentioning the individual missed calls you had from each member of the team. It was bad, but in your defense it had been less than an hour from the first missed call to your current response. 

What could you say? You were big on not being on your phone when you were spending time with friends. 

“What do you mean, where the hell am I,” you answered, rolling your eyes as you leaned up against one of the private bathroom countertops. “How did you describe it before Agent? I’m very in ‘demand’.”

You could hear him groan through the phone and wondered if he was running his hands over his face; something he used to always do when you were being difficult; he absolutely was. 

“Y/N-” 

“I’m on a date.” You responded flatly. The other end of the line went silent. As you were debating whether or not you should add the part about it being a publicity date, Aaron’s voice came through. 

“End it. I’m picking you up. The drive there from the station shouldn’t be more than 30 minutes.” Aaron said, his voice dangerously even. 

“I’m perfectly capable of getting back to the station on my own Agent. I don’t need you stirring up an absolute scene-”

“Y/N,” he started, voice commanding in a way that told you he was serious, “a package was delivered to the station today. Filled with hundreds of photos of you over the years,” he paused again and you could hear him take a deep breath before continuing, “there’s photos of us in there. The unsub knows.” 

You went silent, mouth opening over and over, unable to find anything to say. You had always envisioned a world where you and Aaron were some sort of ‘public’ knowledge, but never like this, obviously never like this. 

“Y/N, I need to come get you,” Hotch said, his voice much softer now, “I can’t-, I need to see that you’re safe.” 

“I’ll make something up,” You said quickly, before adding, “there’s a private valet area, I’ll send you the instructions to get past the gates and I’ll let the security know you’re coming to pick me up.” 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, don’t draw any attention to yourself.” And with that he hung up, leaving you stunned in the bathroom. You gripped the edges of the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror. You wished you could stay in the bathroom for hours, desperately needing some time to privately process what Aaron had told you. 

That wasn’t in the cards for you though, so you quickly did some pointless attempts at ‘straightening’ your appearance- more for your benefit than anything else- before you turned the lock and left back for your table 

You slipped back into your seat across from your friend and co-star Johnny. 

“Your friend alright?” Johnny asked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a small smile, “she’s fine. But my Agent called me when I was in there, she apparently managed to set up some last minute FBI consult to help me prep for an audition I have coming up. According to her, she ‘pulled a lot of strings for this’.” You said, rolling your eyes. The lie sliding out of your mouth with ease. “Whoever this FBI dude is, is supposed to come pick me up right about,” you looked down at your phone, “now apparently. So I guess our little date has to end early.” You said, giving him an exaggerated sad pout. 

Johnny rolled his eyes at that, giving you a small laugh. The two of you were both equally uninterested, romantically, in each other. But you did get along quite well, so being ‘forced’ into hanging out with each other outside of filming wasn’t bad; you’d probably hang out outside of filming anyway 

“No worries, we still on for running lines later tonight?” He asked. 

You thought for a moment, before nodding. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, help me flag down the waiter, I want to get one last drink in before I go.” 

-----

About twenty minutes later you found yourself waiting out in the private courtyard of the restaurant. You were doing your best to calm your nerves, this being the first opportunity you had to try and process what Aaron had told you. You should’ve seen it coming, if the stalker was so obsessed with you, he must’ve noticed Aaron in your life at some point. But you had been so careful. 

Then the other obvious thing hit you. His team knew. You were wondering how the team had taken the news when you saw the black SUV come into view. Aaron quickly stopped the car in front of you and before you could move to open the passenger door yourself, he was out of his seat in a flash, coming over to where you were standing. 

For a moment you were both silent. You felt tiny under his unrelenting gaze, his eyes scanning your entire being as he ensured himself you were okay. 

Without thinking, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, ensnaring his arms tight to his side. As soon you realized what you did, you were internally kicking yourself, moving to loosen your arms nearly as fast as you had put them there.

“Aaron I-” 

Before you could finish your attempted apology, Aaron had pulled his arms from under yours and repositioned them around you, pulling you tightly against him. Your head naturally fit perfectly under his and you took in a deep breath, letting his scent surround you. It was cliche, but you both were thinking about how perfectly your bodies melded against each other.  

You felt his hand rest gently on the back of your head, gently stroking down your hair in a steady rhythm. “I got you.” He whispered, so quiet you nearly didn’t hear it. 

You pulled your head back so you could look up at him. “I’m scared.” You said, admitting it aloud for the first time.  

Aaron was staring hard down at you, his face soft. “I know,” he started, moving a piece of hair away from your face, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?” 

You nodded at that, missing his warmth when he started to pull away from you. He kept a protective hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the passenger seat. He opened the door and helped you in, gently shutting the door behind you. As soon as your door was shut he wasted no time in getting in the driver's seat, starting the car up again. With a quick check to make sure your seatbelt clicked was in, Aaron peeled out of the parking lot. 

A few floors above the courtyard, in one of the private hotel rooms, a curtain was angrily thrown shut. 

-----

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @averyhotchner @kimmy-k-k @uwu-sebastianstan

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no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Ao3 prompt by strwbrystars : my first is to do another chapter focusing on jake protecting amy in a similar situation as the closet one in this chapter pre-relationship or established.

This turned surprisingly long...

(thanks to @dolston17​ for the mafioso names :D)

They’ve made all the wrong decisions right from the start, Amy thinks later, as she’s trying not to hyperventilate, with Jake’s breathing next to her not much slower than her own. 

Well, maybe not the very first decision. When the radio crackled on in Jake’s car, asking for an EMT and back up for two beat cops a block down from them, there really was no other option but to turn and drive down to join them. But once they did find them, every decision made after that came straight from the ‘What Not To Do’ part of her training manuals.

_+_

Officer Rogers was sitting on the ground with his back to a wall, his partner Carols squatting in front of him, and he was obviously injured. Amy noticed the trail of blood leading back into the building behind them as they ran up towards the beat cops.

“Two guys. Possibly gang-related. They were fighting over a drug delivery or sale, we’re not sure, and we tried to separate them and question them when the taller guy pulled out a knife and went for Rogers.” Carols informs them straight away while putting pressure on the large wound in his partner’s thigh. “In the fight the other one, probably Italian background, short and stout, managed to unclip my gun - he must’ve known how to work a holster - god, this so - unprofessional, I’m sorry -”

“S’all good.” Jake interrupts him, and Amy wants to interject that no, it’s obviously not good if a criminal manages to take a gun away from a uniformed officer, but the short relief washing over the young, newly instated beat cop at hearing a detective calm him stops her. “Any more info?”

“They ran deeper into this building. We’ve patrolled it before - this is the only exit, so they must still be holeing up inside. They probably thought I was going to follow them, but I carried Rogers out instead so we could radio-”

“Yes, that was absolutely the right decision.” Amy joins in to support him, and it works maybe half as good as Jake’s casual reaction had before. She squats down too, to inspect the wound that Carols is pressing his jacket onto. “The EMTs are on their way, and this doesn’t look like too deep a cut for any lasting damage, even if it hurts like hell, I’d guess. Good, quick reactions, from both of you.”

“Thank you, detective.” is the first thing Rogers says, but Amy barely hears him when she looks up at Jake. He’s staring straight into the building doors, and she definitely, absolutely doesn’t like the look on his face.

“Jake-” She says with both a questioning and warning tone to her voice.

“This is Mancini territory.” He says out of the blue, and she can see his deducting brain working. “If it’s drug-related, and the other guy looked Italian, must be… Chiellini.”

“Chiellini, like Mafia boss Chiellini?!” Carols asks with shock in his voice, and Rogers hisses as he lets the pressure on his wound go for a second. Amy can’t fault him for that moment of surprise.

Roberto Chiellini, one of the two guys Jake’s undercover sting with the Ianuccis hadn’t been able to pin to any crimes, had quickly worked to establish himself as the new family leader of some Brooklyn areas, focussing on heavy drug trafficking for easy profits. They’d had more and more cases and minor arrests coming across their desks lately that mentioned his name in hushed tones, but had still been unable to actually go after him for any of it. Amy knows it’s been costing Jake sleep, but she still hates to see the conclusion he seems to be coming to right now.

“Jake, even if it is, that goon is way to low-level to have any useful info-”

“Stealing a government-issued gun, and assaulting a police officer? We’d have some leverage-”

“We’ll have absolutely nothing if he decides to use that gun-”

Right at that moment, the sound of a gunshot rips through the air, as if she’d predicted it, and silence falls around them for barely a second before Jake unholsters his own gun and starts moving.

“I’m going in there.”

“Jake you are not- Jake- JAKE!”

_+_

She ran after him, of course. He was her partner - she had to be his backup. Backup that could hopefully talk him out of this entirely once she caught up, but still backup. Most of all, though, he was her partner - running gun-first into what was clearly unnecessary danger. She’d be an absolute fool not to go after him.

Even if it did go against the manual.

(She realised a lot of things she was willing to do for Jake went against any manual she’d ever read, but maybe it was too early in their relationship to admit that, even to herself.)

But she has no time to talk some sense into him, or scold him, or really say anything when she rounds the corner of the hallway he’d stopped behind with his gun up, freezing in point for the scenery before her - the ‘tall man’ Carols had described splayed on the floor, with about 70% of his brain blown all over the concrete behind him, the ‘stout Italian’ standing over him with Carol’s gun still smoking from the shot.

Jake’s hands in her periphery, holding his own gun straight up at him. Jake’s hands, shaking.

“Drop the gun, Riva.” 

Gianluigi Riva, Amy’s brain supplies even in her frozen state. The other one of the two men that walked free after the Ianucci wedding. The one that very definitely could’ve been arrested for various things after, if he hadn’t been so perfectly elusive.

The one Jake had a picture of stuck to his computer screen at work ever since he came back from that undercover mission.

“Jakey the Jew.” she hears through her freeze in the most hateful, spite-dripping voice she’s ever heard. “Or should that be Detective Peralta, I guess?”

“Drop. The gun. Riva.” Jake repeats through gritted teeth.

“Wouldn’t you love that.”

She thinks she sees Jake’s finger actually move for the trigger, but that is before Riva’s attention turns towards her , and suddenly all bets are off. And Riva’s gun is on her.

“That your little bitch, Jakey? The one you whined about?”

“I’m not playing this game. Drop your gun.”

“What a shame if she got caught in the crossfires on your mission, huh?”

“One last warning-”

“Get fucked, pig.”

And then, one strong, big hand against her shoulder, pushing her backwards with force before another gunshot sound.

Another hand, pulling her up, pulling her forward, running, dodging, running, slamming into a wall as they round corners, more gunshots behind them, and shouting, curses, screaming, rage-

They dodge around several more corners as the noises trail further and further behind them, Jake running at a speed she didn’t think he was capable of and pulling her along. There’s a barely visible door she notices before him, and uses her full body weight to drag him towards, opening and slamming it closed behind them so quickly she can only hope that even if Riva had followed them close enough, he didn’t see it.

And then complete silence falls over them in the dark room they find themselves in, safe for their ragged, exhausted breathing. Amy can feel her pulse pumping in her ears, even as Jake nexts to her drops against the wall and slides down, not fully hitting the ground with a  quiet ‘Fuck’.  

“What the hell, Jake?!” Is the first thing she manages to whisper-shout through the heaving, and maybe she should pick her words more carefully right now.

“Riva.”

“Yeah, I know, but-”

“Ianucci’s torture guy.”

And that certainly shuts up whatever angry rant has been bubbling up in Amy’s throat about following procedure and not running in eyes closed, head first like he always does.

She knows barely anything about Jake’s time undercover, safe for the ‘funny’ stories he’s been willing to share at Shaw’s. Even now, as his girlfriend, there seem to be walls around the subject - for obvious reasons, if she thinks about the many little scars and marks on his skin that her fingers keep trailing over. Some that make his breath hitch when she kisses them. Some that he pulls her hands away from almost on instinct.

“Fuck.” She simply echoes him, and he nods before pressing the back of his hand to his lips, trying to keep from being sick - whether from the unbelievable running they’ve just gone through that is still wrecking his body, or from memories that Riva dredged up, she’s not sure.

She turns to inspect the too dark room instead, trying to gather her bearings as best as she can before her brain can switch into panic mode completely. It’s not as small as other places she’s had to hide in, luckily, so her claustrophobia is yet to rear its ugly head, but it’s not exactly spacious either. She can’t make out much that could be of help, a few shelves that have seen better days, an empty barrel or two in the far corner. A lot of darkness. She can’t exactly retrace their steps through the building, but they must have ended up in a half-basement level, the only light coming from a small set of windows a few metres up the wall. 

“Okay.” She manages to level her voice to a normal whisper. “Carols and Rogers must have heard the shots. They definitely called in more back up. All we need to do is stay hidden and wait-”

“They don’t know it’s him. They won’t send much backup.”

“They know two detectives went into a building with an armed criminal and did not come out yet so yes, they will send heavy backup, Jake.”

His voice is still muffled through his hand near his mouth, strained but for something else.

“He was gonna shoot you.”

She doesn’t have much to say to that.

“Because of me.”

She has even less to say to that. Yes, is pretty much all she can think of. Yes, because you ran into a building without backup, without a vest on, without so much as a plan. Yes, because you didn’t think . But given the wavering of his voice, the way he’s still breathing like they’d only just stopped running, the way she could see his hands shake even in the darkness, she’s not going to say any of that, ever. There’s something else on her mind, anyway.

“He recognised me?” She asks as she sinks down to Jake’s level, squat-sitting against the wall. The one you whined about is stuck in her memory, but Jake only shakes his head before dropping it to stare at the ground.

“They- the guys- they kept pushing me to gossip and trash talk about the ‘pigs I left behind’.” He coughs as quietly as he can, and she tenses for a moment trying to listen to any sounds from outside of their room. “I tried with the others but- I just couldn’t say anything bad about you.”

Her hand finds its way into his hair, sweat-sticky on his forehead.

“They picked up on that and kept teasing me about it. Then they started finding hook-ups for me to ‘forget’. I think I got too drunk once and told them to fuck off, or something.”

She scratches over his scalp down to his ear, rubs a soothing circle into his cheek as best as she can.

“I know it was stupid and I put you in danger and we weren’t even- you were with Teddy and I-”

“Hey.” She drops her hand to his upper arm and squeezes for support, wants to say something calming before he spirals, but is met with a quiet hiss and - a wet patch on her hand, the feeling of ripped fabric and skin and blood.

“You were hit?!” She gasps before easing the pressure she was unwittingly putting on his wound.

“Grazed. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, it-it’s-” Her fingers are shaking as she pats around her suit to find something to wrap around his arm to stop the bleeding and comes up empty until she shrugs off her jacket. She won’t ever get the stain out of the light fabric, she thinks for a second as she bandages his arm as best as she can in the dark, but who cares?

Who the fuck cares when he got hit by a bullet that was aimed at her? When he pushed her out of harm's way instead of following protocol and shooting the attacker instead? He could’ve had Riva down and out for the count, he was in perfect position for it, and even gave him ample warning. But he might’ve had her on the ground as well if that’s the option he’d picked.

Something tells her that simply because of that, it was never even an option for him.

Their eyes meet, close enough in the dark to really see each other, and they’re swimming with emotions before Jake’s flinch shut as a distant “Jakeeey~" echoes through the halls they’ve just run through.

“We need to get out of here. We- you don’t know what he’s willing- if he finds us-” Jake is up, all of a sudden, the motion making her sway and almost topple over. He’s scanning the room just like she did earlier when she stands up next to him, and his eyes lock onto the barrels and windows.

“I can give you a leg up high enough to reach the window if we climb that barrel. You’ll fit through it, and get over to Rogers and Carols and see if the backup-”

“And you stay here?” She finally scolds him with a look. “With the man who wants you dead? The one you called ‘torture guy’?”

He’s quiet at that, but she can see on his face that the decision was clearly made in his mind.

“You got any better ideas?”

“Like I said, we wait until backup gets here.”

Almost as if to prove the faults in her argument, another “Jakey boy! Get out here and face me, bitch!” drifts in from outside - closer than it was before, and Jake throws her the most panicked ‘told you’ look she’s ever seen.

“We’re still two against one. He’s emptied half his magazine earlier. If we corner him right, we get the element of surprise in the room as well-” her mind continues to work as her eyes settle on the door- “hug the wall next to the door, and we can disarm him or get him down before he’s even barged in completely.”

Jake seems to want to protest, even as the logical part of his brain is clearly telling him she’s right and that this is the best way to go at it, so he ends up simply nodding before gripping his gun and leaning against the wall next to the door, Amy following him suit on the other side.

They’re staring at each other while the noises outside the room seem to creep ever closer. ‘Come out and plaaay~' almost makes her snort for its ridiculousness if it wasn’t so terrifying, thinking about the things Jake has probably seen this man ‘play’ with. 

She tries to calm her mind by focusing on him, instead. On his face in the hazy dark, the curls on his forehead she managed to jostle free earlier, the tense line of his neck, the glare of her beige suit jacket tied around his arm. The way he looks at her, even amidst the panic, amidst all the fear and worry stuck in the room with them.

He pushed her out of Riva’s aim. He dragged her close to him as he ran. He ignored his own injury, offering to lift her up to an escape he wouldn’t be able to make after her. It’s… it’s a lot. After barely two months of a relationship, it’s a lot to take in.

Except she knows - she knows deep down that he would’ve done all of this three months ago, too. Six months ago. Maybe years ago, even.

“We need to switch.” He whispers suddenly, pulling her out of her deep thoughts, and is already stepping over to her before she can ask. She feels his hand on her shoulder, nudging her back to where he’d been standing, and squeezing three times while doing so.

Sometimes she almost hates that squeeze. She knows what it means now, even though they haven’t said those three little words his squeezes represent yet, but in situations like these - it never forebodes anything good.

And she realises what it really means now, too, as she sees the hinges on the door on her side. The door that opens inwards. The door that will completely hide her behind it once it opens, and leave Jake alone in -

It opens before she can say anything, and then things happen way too quickly - there’s noise and shouting and she thinks she hears Jake’s “Down on the floor!” in between Riva’s angry screams and then there’s another gunshot. A single gunshot, and all she can see is the back of the door in front of her, frozen to the spot, unable to run around it and see if- see who-

“Fuck, Amy. Help me pin this fucker!” She hears the next moment and breathes out in relief. Her feet find themselves again as she runs over to where Jake is kneeling on Riva’s back, struggling to hold him down even with the gunshot wound in his thigh. He’s shouting obscenities, screaming and thrashing around, and Amy is so, so tempted to embed a bullet into his other thigh to get him quiet, but she joins Jake’s knees on his back instead, yanks his arms back in a way Jake couldn’t with his injury, and they click the handcuffs around him together at the very moment a team of heavily suited up officers rounds the corner.

_+_

  He’s sitting on an uncomfortable chair in a brightly lit, wide open room of the hospital, squeezing her hand that is holding onto him while his other arm is propped up on a table and getting stitched up.

The EMTs that were taking care of Rogers checked him, too, but the injury wasn’t bad enough to warrant a ride in their ambulance with him, so Amy took over the keys for his Mustang and drove him after briefing the backup team and handing over a still cussing Riva to be brought into Holding. She put in a whispered request to be the one questioning him - with Rosa as secondary - to Terry, who was part of the backup team, and only gave her a quick look and then a nod after Riva screamed something about how he ‘shoulda offed that snitch when he had a chance’, watching Jake several feet away from them twitch and turn towards the EMT handling his arm.

The young doctor stitching him up seems suitably impressed by both his badge and his injury, remarking something about ‘bravery’ and ‘sacrifice’ he would usually eat up with glee, but all he’s doing is smile at Amy while his fingers intertwine with hers, squeeze only once before his thumb rubs circles across her hand.

They’re left alone soon enough while the doctor gets his painkillers subscription, and Jake takes the chance to lift Amy’s hand up to his lips and kiss it.

“Jake…” she begins when their hands drop again, and she can tell he’s getting ready for a lecture. “You risked too much back there.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in without backup, and made a lot of wrong decisions, and-”

“No.” She interrupts him, much to his surprise. “I mean, yes, obviously, and I’m glad you see that now, but that’s not what I meant.”

She sighs, deeply, and stares at their still interlocked hands.

“You risked too much for me.”

“Not possible.”

“Jake!” Her eyes dart up again, want to level him with an angry stare, but can’t help but soften when met with the absolute shine in his. “Jake, you got hit because you pushed me, you wanted to bail me out of the room to leave you with even less backup, and then you manoeuvred me into a dead corner to face a Mafioso on your own-”

“Yeah.”

“Why?!”

“Because it would’ve kept you safe.”

“That’s not how police work is supposed to-”

“Am I not supposed to keep my partner safe?”

“Not when it puts you in danger instead!”

“Hm.” He hums and looks at the bandaged up stitches on his arm. “Gotta rework the manual for that, then. Because frankly I don’t give a shit about me when it means helping you.”

“But I do.” She almost whispers, but he still looks back at her immediately, balks at the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I give a shit about you. You think I want to see you shot on the ground? You think I want to run away from a building when I know you’re stuck in there? You think I want to stand behind a door and only hear you get- get-” She bites back a sob and fixes him with a dedicated stare instead, a look on her face that makes his heart clench and dance at the same time. “We’re a team, Jake. In the field and off it. You can’t- you can’t play the hero and leave me behind.”

Her mind jumps back to an empty parking lot, the cold wind rushing over her flushed cheeks as she watches him walk away with his little box of things in his arms, not even waiting for her answer. Maybe not even hoping for one.

He sighs and nods back in the present, squeezes her hand again, twice.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, and she squeezes back once. 

She knows they’ll probably be talking about this again in the future. She knows it’ll come up repeatedly until he learns. But she also knows, with a certainty that should maybe scare her after their short time together, why it’ll happen again in the future - because he’ll still be by her side no matter the situation. Because she’ll still be the one thing on his mind, no matter how panicked he is. Because they’ll go through it all together, as a team. As partners.

And deep down, she knows with an equal certainty that if the roles were reversed - she would probably rework the manual herself in her mind, to keep him safe. Would do anything and everything she could, no matter how many protocols it went against, to help him, save him, protect him, make him feel safe and secure. 

Right now, she’s glad all it takes for that is a little lean into his direction to kiss him before the doctor comes back, and squeeze his hand three times before letting go and holding onto his face instead to deepen the kiss.

[wren-ravenheart]

You Tried So Loud To Love Me

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Hanahaki Disease Relationships:  Jaskier/Valdo Marx Rating: T Content Warnings: Minor blood Summary: Jaskier absolutely could not stand Valdo Marx for even a second. He was pretentious, too pretty for his own good, and had a terrible habit of writing sonnets and songs about the color of Jaskier's eyes and the swoop of his hair that he was absolutely certain were some sort of masterfully crafted insult to his person and reputation.

Tucked under a cut again for Length, though this one is over just over 2k words.

Cross-posted to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31171259

~

There were exactly three things in life that Jaskier was absolutely certain of. Things that he could continue to count on even when the rest of his life was attempting to fall to pieces around him.

That Belleteyn is the best holiday.

That Toussaint is Hot and Pretentious.

And that Valdo Marx is an asshole.

Even when his pockets were empty, his lute strings snapped, or he suddenly found himself caught up in a mild court scandal that he assuredly had no part in, he could always rely on those few things. It was easy to keep moving forward when one was propelled by Pettiness and Lust. Even if he could never give an exact answer as to why he hated Valdo so much when pressed. Really now, you wouldn’t ask why the grass was green or the sun warm, so why would anyone ask Jaskier why he couldn’t stand that fluffy little upstart?

It was assuredly not because the rival bard did indeed stand two inches taller than him and was criminally handsome. Nor was it because he had a perpetual perfect smile on his face that refused to budge even when Jaskier threw his best insults at him. And it most assuredly was not because the thrice-damned bastard had written not one but Two Sonnets entirely about Jaskier’s eyes and hair and he absolutely could read the undertones of mocking that clearly lay within. No, it was clearly none of those things that irked Jaskier to his very core.

What kept his petty hate-fueled animosity going was the absolutely nonsensical crush he had on the bastard. A crush he had worked hard to snuff out with wine, women, and a few other bards who weren’t nearly as annoying as Valdo. A crush that clearly had not gone away with time. A crush that was currently trying to hurtle it’s slimy little self all the way into actual, ugh… Love.

Which made it even more frustrating than usual that Valdo was suddenly not his normal bubbly self, greeting Jaskier warmly and loudly as he strode into their mutually favorite tavern in the middle of Oxenfurt. He looked tired, and quiet, and barely glanced at Jaskier before shifting his gaze back into the pint of ale in front of him. Not wine? By Melitele, what was wrong with him?

“Well, well, look who the alley cat dragged in. Ale will go straight to your gut, Valdo. I’ll steal back the title of prettiest bard before you know it.” He sniped as he leaned against the table’s edge and smiled with too many teeth.

Valdo cut his eyes up and then back down. “Good day, Jaskier.”

The smile dropped from Jaskier’s face and he narrowed his eyes. “Good day? That’s it? Valdo, are you ill? I did take the title back already, didn’t I? That must be it! I’ve never seen you like this. Ah, it must be such a burn to know you’ve finally been bested by a true bard and exposed for the talentless hack that you are.” As he spoke, he gestured grandly with his hands. Valdo only winced once at the mention of being ill and firmly kept his gaze on his mug.

“Everyone already knew you’re the attractive one between us, Jaskier. No need to rub it in.”

Jaskier ceased his obnoxious flailing and took an actual seat at the table with him. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him and leaned in, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “Okay now you’re actually worrying me. I was expecting snide sonnets on my unruly mop and ‘lustful gaze’. Jabs, put-downs...anything but this. You are actually sick, aren’t you?”

Valdo slammed back the rest of his ale and stood up abruptly. Jaskier’s mouth dropped open in shock as he was glared openly at by his once-rival turned unnatural crush. “Leave off, Jaskier. Go bother the brothel workers.” And with that final gritted out jab, he stomped out of the tavern.

Jaskier was still staring in shock at the empty spot before him when the barmaid strolled by.

“You’ll catch flies, you leave your mouth open like that, boy.”

He clicked his mouth shut and quickly made his own way out and back to his lodgings.

This just wouldn’t do. What was Valdo’s game? Was he finally making good on all of Jaskier’s assholish attempts to make them public nemeses? Maybe Valdo could read minds; realized the strange feelings the bard had begun to have towards him and decided he was thoroughly disgusted by him.

Jaskier let himself slink into the beginnings of a depression and decided he’d just have to try and shake that off and find out what was going on with his Fri… Rival.

He followed Valdo whenever he could, ambushing him after lectures and hunting him down in pubs. He startled him so fiercely one of these times that the other bard broke down into what sounded like a very painful coughing fit, enough that caused him to pull out a handkerchief to cough into until his lungs settled from the surprise. He found this odd, and then odder still when as he went to ask after his well-being, Valdo abruptly shoved the handkerchief away and growled at him. Growled! Like some angry dog! And left Jaskier once again staring after him as he stomped away, agog.

A month later, Jaskier’s persistence had turned into straight up concern. Valdo was less angry with his antics and instead seemed constantly tired. There were bags under his lovely brown eyes and his hair had turned greasy and less kempt. He consulted these odd symptoms with a friend studying medicine and she mentioned it sounded like some sort of wasting disease. Jaskier was only familiar with a few of them, but none of them sounded like a pleasant time.

So, while still firmly trying to convince his brain that Valdo was still an absolute Arse and absolutely did not deserve his time or affection, Jaskier made soup. Warm pot nestled in the crook of his arm, he marched up to Valdo’s residence and knocked firmly on the door. No one answered. He knocked again. Deep coughs followed by the sounds of mild choking came from within and Jaskier decided basic decorum was right out the window. He pried open the door and rushed inside, looking for the source of the distress.

And there was Valdo; laid out on a lounge chair looking even worse than usual and slowly lowering a cloth from his mouth. There were flecks of blood on his lips and it appeared as if he couldn’t draw a full breath. Jaskier plunked the soup pot right on the floor and went directly to Valdo’s side.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so ill?” He asked softly, dropping all the pretense of being a rampant jerk.

Valdo just looked at him sadly, too tired to muster up his recent attempts at dismissal. “I did not want you to know, Jaskier. You’re like the sun. So warm and happy. I could not bring myself to have you worry so I pushed you away.”

Jaskier’s eyes went a little wide and he reached out to take Valdo’s hand. It was so cold in his own, and he could make out the fine bones in his fingers. A wasting disease indeed. He rubbed his thumb over the other’s knuckles and shook his head slightly in dismay.

“I’ve been a right arse to you for years. Look at us. Idiots to the bitter end.” He murmured wistfully. “Is… is there anything I can do to help? To ease anything at all? I, uh… I made you soup. I thought it might be… nice?”

Now it was Valdo’s turn to look surprised. He squeezed the hand in his and looked over at the pot on the floor. “You made me soup? You’ve never made me anything.”

“Okay yes. Fine. That is true. I’m a complete and total jerk. My feet should not be gracing your illustrious doorstep, my knees not fit for your carpet. I’m sorry, okay? You’re talented. So talented. I’m at a loss without your poetry to bounce my own works off of.”

At this confession, Valdo cracked a little smile. “Maybe there is hope for you and I after all, dear Jaskier… You see, I ha-” A painful coughing fit cut him off abruptly, the force of it causing Valdo to nearly curl in on himself, clutching the cloth to his mouth as his body attempted to forcefully remove whatever was clearly killing him. Jaskier kept his hand firmly in Valdo’s as he tried to rub the other’s back in comfort. The touch seemed to help in some small way, and the hacking died off. Valdo slumped backwards panting, the hand with the cloth falling into his lap.

There, amidst the spattering of blood, lay small bright yellow flowers. Jaskier gasped loudly and shook his head.

“No, it’s a myth. It’s not real.”

Valdo attempted to clear his throat as he bunched the cloth with the flowers up and tried to hide it from view. “You of.. Of all people… .should know the… power of a story… where they come from...the truths hidden in the tales….We’re storytellers.. It’s.. poetic in it’s own way…”

“It’s a tragedy born of the old stories, is what it is. Wasting away from unrequited love? It’s madness. No one actually dies of a broken heart.”

“I’m not heartbroken, Jaskier. I’m simply in love with someone who is my sun and sky… and who absolutely cannot stand me. It will make the most glorious tragedy. I have already begun to write it.” Valdo smiled brightly as he caught his breath better and shifted to sit more comfortably. He squeezed his hand once more before letting it drop. “With any luck, I will finish it before I can no longer write.”

Jaskier stared into the middle distance over Valdo’s shoulder, taking it all in. It all seemed too outlandish to be real. Things that happened in tragedies and stories never actually happened in real life. Soulmates weren’t real. Kisses didn’t break curses. And people didn’t suffocate slowly on flowers for being rejected. But as he slowly shifted his gaze back to the pale, but still softly smiling, face of the absolute nuisance that was Valdo Marx, at lot of things clicked into place for him.

He had never hidden pithy put-downs into his sonnets. He had never crafted masterful insults through his songs. He had honestly and truly sung from the heart and he had called him his Sun. Valdo had been unashamedly, unabashedly, in love with him from the start. He was coughing up small yellow flowers… Buttercups...and had slipped back into waxing poetic over it all. Lord, the fool was fully gone on him. And he had been nothing but the most righteous arse over it all, so very full of himself and sure that the other was somehow mocking him and jealous of his talent.

Turns out it was Jaskier himself who was the pompous wastrul and talentless hack. He shuffled forward on his knees until he was flush against the lounge. Valdo looked over at him and lifted an eyebrow in question. A beautiful eyebrow set in a beautiful face that Jaskier was tired of pretending he wasn’t also long gone on as well. What was it that the storybooks always said saved the day, woke the princess, broke the curse? Ah… yes…

Jaskier set both hands on the cushion of the lounge and angled himself just right to gently lean forward and press his lips right against Valdo’s own. The man below him went very very still. His lips were soft, but the lack of any response twisted something uncomfortable in his gut and he slowly broke the kiss and moved away, eyes cast downwards.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Jaskier, what-?”

They spoke at once. Jaskier looked up and noticed color on Valdo’s cheeks, his mouth slightly open and his eyes nearly comically wide in shock. He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat.

“I’ve been a right arse to you, but I love you, Valdo Marx. And I do not wish to see you suffer a moment longer. It will kill me too.”

Valdo’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a deep exhale. Jaskier panicked for a brief second, wondering if he had actually killed him, before he sucked in a very long and full breath and opened his eyes again. They shined with unshed tears and Jaskier had a moment to admire the sight and the warm feeling at finally giving in before he was being tackled to the ground in a crushing hug and warm tiny kisses were being pressed to whatever skin the other could find.

A laugh erupted from them, and Valdo’s kisses shifted from surprised, affectionate pecks, to soft and tender kisses meant to explore the other’s skin. Jaskier shifted slightly under him and set a hand to his chin, drawing him back to his own lips to continue the kissing. Valdo hummed happily and nearly melted into what he hoped was now his new Beau. The university community was going to have a field day with this.

Jaskier rolled them over and slowly moved his head away. Valdo attempted to chase after one more kiss, making him chuckle. “As much as I am enjoying making out on the floor like we’re back in year one… are you sure? Are you alright? You were coughing up most of your lung a minute ago.”

Valdo smiled up at him and reached up to run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “Yes, my love, I am quite well now. You’ve restored me and I suffer no longer. Now the story I write shall have a happy ending. A proper fairy tale after all.”

“Well, if you insist. Though I would be grateful to continue this discussion somewhere that is not the floor.”

Valdo’s laugh was bright and filled him with warmth as they both got to their feet and he began to tug Jaskier in the direction of a more private space. “Anything for the prettiest bard in Oxenfurt.”

And wasn’t Jaskier pleasantly surprised when Valdo took it upon himself to demonstrate just how much better he now felt, repeatedly and with vigor. As it turned out, stories always had more truth to them than he had ever expected, for this cursed ailment was most assuredly soothed with a Kiss.

~End~

[allsassnoclass]

hi hazel I hope you're having a nice day! i was wondering if you could rec me some malum fics? length does not matter. i know I would have probably read most of them but i read most of the malum stuff before i made my ao3 so i can't even remember the ones i read and i would Love to read good ones whether i've already read them or not. i've said 'read' way too many times now avzcfhrb. in any case i would love to see what would make it on a hazel malum rec list! thank you i hope that's not annoying 🥰 -taylor<3

omg taylor did you know that you are the first person to ask me for fic recs like this. i'm very excited tbh. some of my favorite malum fics located below!

every malum rec list i make is going to start with make me a promise here tonight by @calumcest what can I say I just love this fic. so cute and very them yknow.

“Calum,” Michael says, walking into the bunk area and stopping in front of Calum’s bunk. “Cal.”

“What?” Calum asks, not looking up from his phone.

“I think we should get married.”

as for other helen fics, I also rec dancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit), you're already the voice inside my head (i feel like this one might be up your alley specifically), it should be criminal that you could be mine, the first time i've seen love (and the last i'll ever need), and we know this is the way it's supposed to be

(unfortunately I haven't read these ones recently enough to know if there's alc in them or not)

another one of my absolute favorites is i got you right where i want you by @calumsclifford. very cute and sweet, although alcohol warning for the third section

“Next year. I’m going to plan you the cutest fucking anniversary you’ve ever seen in your life.” “It’s just a day,” Michael laughs. “It’s a day that means something, though. Let’s do something big, okay?"

or, 5 times Michael and Calum’s anniversary went wrong and one time it didn’t

also, and i breathe disaster, ever after (the winter soldier au) and it's no coincidence my hand fits perfectly in yours (cute 5+1 Valentine's day)

wake up with by asymmetric is one of my absolute favorites as well

Calum had been under the lights for ten minutes and he was already sweating.

(in which they film a lyric video and familiar things gain new meanings)

Yes, you make my life worthwhile by lumoon33 is nice and cute

"Hey Calum?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love me?"

i'm loving what you got by asymmetric is also super cute

Michael accidentally (sort of) kisses Calum in Nashville and Calum realizes a few things.

Fallingforyou by ercareyes is also cute

Michael is five years old when he discovers his fascination with love.

Or alternatively:

Michael falls in love every day and falls out of love just as quickly. Calum is always there to catch him.

Love (and other acts of madmen) by TempestRising is actually one of my favorites, but the malum is very light in it due to the circumstances of the fic

...every nerve Michael has is on edge and his brain won't stop screaming Calum Calum Calum and his hands are still red, and there's still blood under his fingernails from where he cradled Calum's body before they tore them apart. "Well honey," the nurse says, "if you've got a god I'd start praying. You might be here a while."

Or: Calum gets shot at a concert.

big fan of @escapesos Peyton's work, today I'm going to shout out sure as hell the happiest i've ever been

“Why Vegas?” Calum asks.

Michael shrugs, trying to play it off but he can’t help the truth slipping out. “It seemed kind of romantic.”

“Gambling and Elvis impersonators are romantic to you?”

or

malum take a spontaneous trip to vegas. and they get married. spontaneously.

also so say that i'm a rainbow (and tell me that I'm bright)

“Of course I want to, I’d love nothing more than to share what we have with the world. But only if you want to.”

Maybe there’s something familiar in Michael’s eyes that settles Calum. It’s the way he’s looking at him, he thinks, because it’s the way he’s been looking at him since they were 15 and didn’t know what they were doing with anything. The eyes looking back at him are the same eyes he fell for all those years ago. It’s just Michael.

“I want to.”

or

mali-koa writes a pride song. michael and calum use it to come out.

from Bella @clumsyclifford we have the malum section of spidy!au, latest nostgalgia, or happily ever after

Calum’s not cute.

Well, okay, Calum is cute, but that’s not something a straight guy should be thinking about, and — Michael’s not straight, but he’s trying to keep that particular fact on the down-low, so he can’t really speak to it. Still, objectively speaking, Calum is cute, and Calum is talking, and if Michael were the type to get distracted by cute boys talking, he’d be fucked.

He blinks. Calum’s watching him.

“Sorry?” Michael echoes. “I missed that last part.”

also by Bella, a part of my heart that you'll never change

Then they release an album, and that blows up, and then Calum somehow convinces management that they should go to Brazil for the World Cup, which is weird because Michael is pretty sure they’re scheduled to play the Where We Are Tour for, like, all of the World Cup, except apparently the Switzerland show has been conveniently cancelled (not convenient for the Swiss, though, Michael guesses), and that leaves them with a comfortable three-day window.

They go to Brazil.

i know this whole damn city thinks it needs you is the amazing superhero au by @igarbagecannoteven

But when Calum had become apprentice to the city’s biggest superhero two months ago, a lot of things changed. The main one was their nights. Instead of staying up doing homework and hanging out until they both crashed into their respective beds, Calum would slip out their window to save the day and catch the bad guys, and Michael would lay awake in bed until Calum returned, paralyzed with the fear that some night Calum wouldn’t come back at all.

the creek walk small talk series by @cringeycal is awesome, i love adri's writing style

Seeing a stranger’s footprint in his spot rips apart the imaginary curtain Michael’s woven between his creek and the rest of the world. Right now, he needs that curtain fully intact and drawn tightly shut.

A splash louder than the average rush of the creek comes from off to Michael’s left, downstream. He doesn’t bother looking. He knows who it is.

“Rough day?” asks Calum, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to the log, halfway in the water.

I could sift through works by various other writers we both know to find more but these are the ones coming to mind right now!

[gallavictorious]

Outsider POV Gallavich Fic: Captive Look

For a while there this spring, I was mildly obsessed with the CO in 10x03: you know, the good-looking guy who seems so completely unfazed by finding two armed inmates stabbing an old man, and then for whatever reason doesn't report it? (He can't have; Ian's parole wouldn't have happened so soon after something like that.) I also really dig his beard... Anyway, IMDB identifies him as Raymond and I've had this short little piece about him and his interactions with two certain dumbasses sitting almost finished in my draft doc for months and months and months, so... you're welcome? 2882 words, to help pass the time until the new episode!

You can read it below or on AO3.

---

It's half past eight on a Thursday when Raymond catches sight of them across the bar at South Side Social. He’s there to celebrate his baby sister’s birthday, familial obligation overriding personal preference, but after an hour of politely chatting with her increasingly wasted college friends over obnoxiously rustic-only-because-it’s-trendy food, he’s ready for a break. Catching Tina’s eye, he mimes lightening a cigarette; she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks. She’s a clever kid, his sister – the first in their family to go to college – and she knows him only too well. Knows, for instance, that he gave up smoking years and years ago.

Offering her a rueful grin, he gets up and gets out and spends the next few minutes breathing in Chicago’s poisonous evening air. It’s December, but unusually warm for the season, and somewhere underneath the dusty stink of exhaust fumes and concrete there’s a faint trace of melting snow.

On the way back to the table Raymond stops at the bar to order another beer, and that’s when he spots them, just three feet away. Two men in their mid-twenties, casually dressed and apparently in the middle of a not-very-serious argument, complete with waving hands and mock-scoffs. It takes a moment for the vague feeling of familiarity to click into actual recognition, and when it's does it's not so much their faces as the way they pause to look at each other.

It's not the sort of look you see a lot, especially not in prison.

So, well, he’ll be damned. It’s Milkovich and Gallagher. Cellmates, lovers, and occasionally a goddamn pain in his ass. Released, as improbable as it sounded, within days of each other less than half a year ago, and now laughing over drinks in a half-way decent restaurant in downtown Chicago. It’s not the sort of place he’d expected to find them in – but then again, there’d been a lot of unexpected things about that pair.

Not them hooking up, necessarily, not once they’d ended up sharing a cell; trading sexual favors for protection (whether voluntarily or not) was common enough. Frowned upon in theory, of course, but in practice –

Well. You didn’t have to like it, but it was what it was. Idealism didn’t survive long at Beckham. Raymond himself had never harbored any grand notions about the redemptive potential of his work, but he’d seen his fair share of fresh-faced new CO:s have their illusions crushed after a week or two caught between the often violent offenders who despised them, the indifferent malice of many seasoned CO:s, and the stifling drudgery of the American penal system in general. Not Raymond, though: he did his job, did it well, and went home and didn't spend waste moment of thought on it. You did what you needed to do to pay the bills; no need to dwell on it.

So no, Gallager getting in bed, quite literally, with Milkovich hadn’t been a surprise. The nature of their relationship, though...

Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for inmates to fall for one another, or for established couples to end up in prison together. Didn’t happen a lot, and actual homosexuality was still more likely to get you beat up than laid, but yeah, it did happen. What, in Raymond’s experience, never happened was having to people look at each other the way Milkovich and Gallagher sometimes did, whenever they thought no one else was watching: there was a kind of wonder to it, both staring at the other like they’ve been handed a goddamn gift and couldn’t quite believe their luck.

Particularly on Milkovich’s face the look was baffling.

Ever since the young man arrived at Beckamn he'd moved down the gray corridors and among the yellow-clad crowds like a man born to it. Raymond supposed he was; his father Terry had spent much of his adult life in the very same prison, as had a great many brothers, cousins and assorted associates. Though Raymond didn't know any details, and didn't really care to know them, he'd bet dollars to donuts that Mickey Milkovich's criminal career had had both an early start and a sense of inevitability to it. Various stints in juvie, followed by a real prison sentence for... attempted murder, wasn't it?... followed by a widely publicized jailbreak and an eventual and far less publicized return to Beckman.

Milkovich was tough enough to make others back down when he had to but smart enough not to start any unnecessary fights, not with the other inmates and not with the ones set to watch over them. Knew how to work the system, too: how to get things in, get things done, which guards could be bribed. Raymond didn't play that game himself, but he wasn't getting paid enough not to turn a blind eye when others do. And Milkovich had been pretty smooth about it, especially since his return; careful not to cause a stir.

Gallagher, on the other hand... He'd been the kind of inmate Raymond would've been seriously worried for, had he been inclined to worry and had Milkovich not been there to watch his back and show him the ropes. Not because Gallagher struck Raymond as even remotely helpless, but he so very obviously did not belong in prison, and so very obviously did not really have a clue about what was what in here. The nastier inmates would have eaten him alive long before he'd had the chance to navigate the intricacies of prison politics and find the friends needed for protection. He'd have ended up someone's bitch, or ended up in the infirmary, or dead.

But he'd ended up with Milkovich, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, that had worked out. (There were moments when Raymond wondered about that, wondered about them: apart from the looks, there were little touches, too, casual things that spoke of a familiarity far beyond what they could possibly have developed in their short time in a shared cell.)

That wasn't to say that their relationship had been all rainbows and lollipops, and it sure as hell hadn't been fun for everybody. They’d driven half the cellblock insane sometimes, as well as occasionally one another. Other prisoners had complained about their bickering and their fucking (though never officially complained, because you didn't, not unless you wanted to go looking for your teeth in the shower drain), and Raymond recalled vividly the time when not one but both of them had gotten roped into Chester Russom’s endless quest to spend the rest of his life behind bars –

He'd been passing by the infirmary when he'd heard the screaming and come running. Hadn't been surprised, exactly, to find what he found, but that didn't lessen the urge to smack both Milkovich and Gallagher on the head for being so damned stupid.

Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about getting caught stabbing another inmate. In fact, they'd fallen over themselves to take the blame, which Raymond might have taken as an unselfish attempt to save the other – if he'd been a complete idiot and if the two of them hadn't been sniping at each other all the way from the infirmary, to the point where he felt like his head would explode.

“Imma murder you two if you don't stop talking,” he said, glaring at them as they sat chained outside the small office. Thankfully, they did stop, looking neither at him nor at each other.

Raymond waited for a moment, deliberating.

“What did Chester promise you?” he eventually asked. Gallagher might have agreed to help the old man out of the goodness of his heart, but Milkovich sure as hell hadn't.

Neither man answered. They were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Raymond warned them. “If I have to leave your sorry asses chained to this bench all night that's no skin off my back.”

“We needed a break,” Gallagher offered eventually, reluctantly. Milkovich gave a little snort at that, but – wisely – kept his mouth shut. “So we thought that if one of us got sent to solitary... “ He trailed off, shrugging half-heartedly.

Oh, for the love of God - ! “Why did both of you have to stab him if the goal was to get one of you to solitary?”

Again, there was a protracted silence, and somewhere in it – in their earlier insistence that each of them had been the first to stick the shiv into Chester – Raymond could just about make out the shape of it.

“You are both idiots,” he said, moving to uncuff them from the bench, making a decision. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” Gallagher said, not rising. “You're not reporting us? What about solitary?””

“You don't get a damn reward for stabbing someone, so no, you're not going into solitary, you're going straight back to your cell – where you will hand over all contraband you've hidden there.”

“Now, wait a minute – “ Milkovich began, but he faltered when Raymond fixed him with a hard stare.

Raymond had no illusions about intimidating this particular inmate, but Milkovich really did know how this worked; knew better than to ever be friendly with a guard, not even the ones he bribed – but knew when not to push too.

He had kept their hands cuffed for the walk back to the cell, which was policy, but was him making a point too. While there were extenuating circumstances – primarily the fact that Chester had asked them to stab him – by all rights they should be going down for this, and Raymond wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he wasn't letting them. Save himself the paperwork? Yeah, sure. Why not? As good a reason as any.

“Now, am I going to have to search the cell or will you give it up voluntarily?” he asked once they'd made it to the cell. “You make me look, I won't be too careful with your shit.”

A lot of the guards would be deliberately careless when they tossd a cell, either to prove a point or just for the hell of it. Raymond usually didn't bother with that sort of power trip bullshit, but he was prepared to make an exception if these morons proved stupid enough to give him any more trouble. He was already cutting them considerable slack here, and neither of them have the brains to appreciate it.

They had shared a look, and then Milkovich gave an imperceptible nod. Without a word they set to bring forth an array of cigarettes and foodstuff, little things that would have been commonplace and unremarkable in the real world but was made precious by its scarcity on the inside.

Raymond wasn't naive enough to believe they actually gave him everything they'd got in there, but enough of it to inconvenience them, which would have to do. He grabbed the the items, then fixed them both with a firm look.

“Either of you cause me any more trouble, I'm taking your books,” – he pointed to Gallager, then to Milkovich – “and your pens and paper. You think you have it bad now? Imagine sharing a cell and having nothing else to occupy you.”

He had hoped to God he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, though. The other prisoners would probably riot if they have to put up with more of ´bickering from these two.

“I catch either of you with a shiv again, you'll be fucking sorry,” he continued. “Talk it out, or agree not to talk, or whatever. Split the cell into his and his, I don't give a damn. But sort your shit out.”

Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't; the point became moot just a few weeks later, when Gallagher was released. Milkovich had soon followed him – and how exactly that had happened, Raymond still didn't know, because there was no way in hell anyone actually thought releasing that one back into society was a great move – and that had been that. For now, at least; he fully expected to see Milkovich again. Guy like that wasn't going to quit, and sooner or later he'd get caught and find himself back behind bars. Rinse repeat, until he got himself killed or locked away for good.

Only now here Milkovich is, but in front of a bar rather than behind them, and with Gallagher right by his side, laughing like they'd never stabbed a man just to get away from each other.

Raymond hesitates. There's some small part of him that actually wants to step up and say hello, and that throws him a little. He's got a rule about never getting emotionally invested in the fates of the inmates; that way lies nothing but heartbreak, because most of those who find themselves at Beckman will find themselves there again and again, for longer and longer. Don't abuse the prisoners, but don't care too much either: it's been Raymond's private policy for the past five years, and it's worked out so far.

Except now he's actually considering chatting with a couple of convicts, just 'cause he really is a little bit curious about how this unlikely pair is doing.

But nah. Forget it. His rule aside, it'd be pretty uncool to intrude on their evening out. They're free men now – kind of – and having a CO check up on them can't be high on their list of wants. But before he can move away, they both look his way; sees him. Recognizes him, too, from the way they freeze.

Okay. Call it fate, then. “Hello,” Raymond says, going for neutral good and a little nod; I come in peace.

A beat. Milkovich is eyeing him with a wariness he doesn't bother to conceal and it's Gallagher who speaks first:

“Officer Reese,” he says, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

Raymond notices the way they glance down at the beers they technically shouldn't be having.

“I'm not your PO,” he assures them. “I don't give a damn if you drink. Might want to take it easy, though,” he can’t help but add. “Getting shitfaced is a quick way to get into trouble.”

Milkovich opens his mouth, but after a quick glare from Gallagher he closes it again. Probably for the best; Raymond can’t imagine him playing even remotely nice now that he doesn’t have to.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he says. “Looks like you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we've got jobs and... “ Gallagher pauses to glance at Milkovich again, as if asking his permission. Milkovich rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Gallagher turns his gaze back to Raymond. There's a real smile on his face now, small, but filled with something akin to disbelieving delight: “We got married. Couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” Raymond isn’t quite sure what surprises him more: the fact of their marriage, or the fact that he is genuinely happy for them. Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age… Or maybe it’s just that there’s so very few happy endings for those who find themselves at Beckman, whether as inmates or as guards, that they need to be treasured whenever you find them.

“Ian!” someone calls across the room, and Gallagher turns his head to look at a blonde woman gesturing wildly. “Where are those drinks?”

“Shit,” Gallagher mutters. “Better get this to Tami before she has a fit.”

Another smile, and Gallagher is gone. Milkovich, however, lingers, seemingly debating whether to say something more. Curious against his will, Raymond does his best to look approachable. Evidently, it works, because Milkovich clears his throat:

“You’d reported us when we stabbed that old fucker in the infirmary, Ian wouldn’t have gotten his release.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then forces out: “Appreciate it.”

Raymond merely nods. Maybe he should say something about being glad taking a chance on them had paid off, that he is glad to see them doing well – but he’s pretty sure Milkovich wouldn’t much appreciate the sentiment.

“Your boy doesn’t belong in prison,” he says instead.

Milkovich face immediately collapses into a scowl. “Well, I didn't fucking put him there,” he growls.

But Raymond isn’t intimated; just hold his gaze. “Gonna keep him out of trouble then?” Gonna stay out of trouble, he doesn’t ask, but Milkovich isn’t stupid, so he'll hear it all the same.

Milkovich still glares, but something in his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. “You betcha. Won’t have anything on us ever again,” he promises ambiguously, with a cocky grin and one eyebrow raised.

When he walks away, swagger in every step, he is every bit the unrepentant gangster – but Raymond keeps his eyes on him and sees the way he relaxes as soon as he stops next to Gallagher. Reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, catching his eye. That same wondering smile on both of their faces.

Raymond thinks that maybe he won't actually see either of them again.

He is glad of it.

[artificialqueens]

Better Than Revenge, Chapter 1 (Multi) - Joley

ao3 link

Jan put her hands on the back of Jackie’s chair, trying to read over her shoulder as if it would help one way or another. “Still looking into the Sarah Jones case?” she asked, resting her chin on the top of Jackie’s head.

If it were anyone else, Jackie would’ve shooed them away, but she didn’t have it in her to deny Jan’s presence. “Just about finished,” she assured. “It seems pretty cut and dry, the court case is well-documented. It’s yet another instance of a straight, white boy getting off with a slap on the wrist. Did ninety days in jail and another month of community service. Sarah came to the right people.”

“She getting any restitution?”

“Not a dime,” she shook her head and clicked her tongue in disapproval, then turned to face her. “Are you taking on this one?”

Jan looked over her shoulder into the other room. “Nah, Gigi’s on this one, I have a few cases to follow up on.”

There was a beat of silence where Jan was unaware of Jackie’s internal debating before finally asking, “so, you think you’ll be free tonight?”

She bit her lip, a smirk twitching at the corner. “You missing me in your bed already?”

Jackie turned around in her chair, looking up at Jan. “You’re a cocky little brat, aren’t you?” she teased.

Jan braced her hands on either arm of Jackie’s chair. “But am I wrong?”

“I can’t really argue when I’m eye-level with your tits.”

“Well, I–” her retort was cut off by an alarm on her phone going off. “Ah, fuck, my three o’clock case is gonna be here any minute now. I’ll be in my office if you need me, gorge,” she winked before turning on her heel and making her way down the hall.

Jackie turned back to her desk, exhaling deeply as she allowed her heart a chance to return to its normal rate. But it wasn’t long before she sensed that once again, she wasn’t alone, and groaned. “Don’t say it.”

“She has you whipped,” Nicky observed matter-of-factly. “It would be cute if you weren’t such a stubborn bitch about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m an Aries. Stubborn bitch is my default setting. Ask Denali, she can vouch for that.”

Nicky furrowed her brows. “Where is Denali anyway? She left before noon to meet with a new client, she’s usually back by now.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Jackie assured, “she knows how to take care of herself.” Before they could question her whereabouts any further, her office phone began to ring. “Let me take this,” she said before answering in her ‘business voice’, “Karma Inc, Jackie speaking. How may I help you?”

——

It wasn’t uncommon for Denali or the others to make house calls for consultations. Oftentimes, someone’s privacy or safety could be at stake. So, she didn’t bat an eye as she made her way to the address listed in the email. But when she saw that she was at a scarcely used office building, her suspicions grew.

With her hand on her taser, Denali cautiously entered the building and looked around. The email said to wait in the lobby – not that she planned to wander around.

“Denali?”

The voice startled her from her thoughts and she turned to see where it was coming from. She then saw a tall woman with auburn hair and pale skin approach her. “You’re Rosé?”

“That’s me,” she confirmed before leading Denali into an empty office. “Listen, this is going to sound like bullshit, but I have a case for your organization. It’s of critical importance and could be huge for you guys as well.”

Denali’s brows furrowed as she eyed her suspiciously. “Who are you, exactly?”

Rosé strummed her fingers against the desk. “I’m a former detective and–”

“Hey, what we’re doing is completely legal!” she cut in, eyes narrowing in a glare. This wasn’t the first time she felt inclined to defend what her group did. What she considered their group was an ethical version of mercenaries (which may seem like an oxymoron, but that was beside the point).

They pick up where law enforcement, the justice system, or even society itself failed. When someone came to them seeking revenge on someone that wronged them, they took it seriously. The vetting process that Jackie would put each case through could take days depending on the circumstance. Bottom line, their goal was to help people who had exhausted their options and she would be damned if she let some cop get in the way of that. “If this is some sort of sting, I’ll have you know I have an attorney and I won’t–”

“This isn’t a sting,” she replied calmly. “I’ve seen the justice system fail far too many people to stay within it. That was why I left, but I have unfinished business. There are people out there that have hurt others that’ll never see justice and could cause even more harm. That’s where you and your associates come in.”

Denali went from defensive to intrigued in a second flat. “So, you want us to give the victims some closure by hunting down criminals? And do what, specifically? Because a lot of what we do doesn’t cause long-term damage… physical damage, anyway.”

Rosé grinned. “That’s where I team up with you guys. I can arrange for Karma Inc. to have the proper training you would need to be at the level of effectiveness we would need here.”

“We?”

“I have been working closely with some of the victims of the people we’re after. This isn’t going to be easy, but from what I understand, I’ve come to the right place.”

Denali strummed her fingers against the desk as she mulled it over. She would need to run it by the rest of the group, but she couldn’t fathom them not being on board. That’s why they had come together – to right wrongs in ways only they were able to. “You certainly have.”

——

“This is exciting!” Jan chirped, bouncing a bit in her seat. “We’re gonna be like actual crime fighters now. Think of all the things we’ll be able to do once we have all the skills for it! Maybe we should get matching leather jackets or something.”

“Take a breath, Bubbles,” Mik chuckled, then turned his attention back to Denali. “So, tell us about this detective.”

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Denali’s lips and she began absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger as she spoke. “She’s like six foot, auburn hair, beautiful blue-green eyes, big ti-”

“That is not what he meant, you horny dumbass,” Symone cut in. “Also, I’m pretty sure you just described Jolene, like, from the song.”

“Hey!” Denali pouted, then tilted her head in thought. “Actually, now that you mention it…”

Gigi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Focus, Denali. Please just tell me you handled yourself professionally and weren’t staring at her ‘eyes’.”

“Give me some credit here, Jesus,” she rolled her eyes. “I was fine, I wouldn’t volunteer for something just to appease a pretty face. I take this shit just as seriously as the rest of you.” Once she’d taken a breath to refocus herself, she continued. “She’ll be coming over tomorrow to meet with us, then once we work out the details, we’re gonna get started on combat training. Well, you guys will,” she smirked at the last part.

“Lest we ever forget your black belt,” Nicky chimed in. “Did you brag to her about that?”

Denali scoffed. “I prefer the element of surprise, thank you very much.”

Nicky shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

As much as the group liked to joke around with each other, the seriousness of their new mission never left their minds. They enjoyed their work, but they took everything seriously. It was people’s lives, their mental and physical health. It was their safety and their future and they knew how much power and responsibility came with their mercenary work. But it fulfilled each of them in their own way - they didn’t end up doing this by accident, after all.

And they all made their feelings clear when they spoke to Rosé. Denali had texted her the address of their headquarters and led her inside to their main meeting room. “Everyone, this is Rosé. Rosé, this is Nicky, Symone, Mik, Jan, Gigi, we’re the mercenaries. And this is Jackie; she does all of the research, tech, paperwork… basically, the glue that holds us together.”

“I’m very excited to meet you all,” Rosé replied in greeting, clasping her hands together. “I know this may seem like a heavy task, I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“I’ve got a question,” Symone chimed in. “I saw the numbers you sent us. Who, exactly, is funding this endeavor?”

“It was somewhat of a crowdfunding endeavor,” Rosé explained. “But it turned into something much bigger. The community of people affected by the people we’re tracking down is dedicated and pulled in resources almost in excess. Rest assured, we can live up to those numbers.”

The answer satisfied Symone, who nodded in acceptance. “Alright,” she cracked her knuckles, “what’s the next step from here?”

Rosé’s face cracked into a grin. “From here, we get you guys into training. I have a combat specialist and range master on standby to help you guys prepare for as many possible scenarios as we could think of. This will take some time, so we’ll work with your schedules.”

“I’ll email you that,” Jackie nodded. “The rest of the day is open if you guys want an introductory session or something.”

They all looked at each other, slowly nodding before Jan, speaking for the group, said “we’re in, let’s at least get a taste of what’s to come.”

“We don’t need to know what you and Jackie are doing tonight, babe,” Gigi teased, earning a glare in response.

After that, the group took the twenty-minute drive to the private gym they would be training in. It was spacious and clean, not having an overabundance of exercise equipment. Most noticeably, there was a boxing ring towards the back of the space. “Any of you guys ever box before?” Mik asked casually.

Most of them shook their heads, save for Symone who shrugged, “a little bit in college.” She looked over at Denali, “what, you aren’t secretly a heavyweight champion on top of your blackbelt?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner,” Denali retorted, brushing her hair off her shoulder.

“Mercenaries,” Rosé redirected everyone’s attention. “This is Jaida, military trained in hand-to-hand combat. There’s no one I’d trust more to whip you all into shape.”

While most of the group had reactions ranging from neutral to excited, Nicky looked like she had just seen a ghost. Her eyes went wide, her face paled, the beating of her heart drowned out anything else Rosé was saying. There was no way, she thought. It had to be a coincidence – the universe doesn’t just align like that in real life.

But if Jaida shared those sentiments, she didn’t let them show – something that went hand-in-hand with military training, no doubt. Though it seemed that she was actively not looking at Nicky, her unwaveringly stoic expression seemed focused to her left, where Jan, Mik, and Denali were. “Alright,” she said once Rosé had finished her introductory speech, “I’m gonna work with each of y’all one-on-one to get a read on your skill level,” she looked the line-up over and tilted her head. “I’ll take the ginger one first, the rest of you start warming up.”

While Gigi left with Jaida, Jan turned to Nicky with a concerned expression. “You okay? You look kinda… sick. Do you want some water or something?”

“I’m not sick,” she assured, but let Jan lead her off to the side anyway. “I just think I might be going a bit crazy.” There was hesitation as she worked herself up to being honest – this was Jan, if there was anyone she could confide in, it would be her. “The instructor. She looked familiar… like the girl. You know, the girl.”

Jan’s expression went from confusion to wide-eyed realization over the course of the next few seconds. “Oh my gosh, her? Are you sure?”

Nicky shook her head. “I do not think I can be… she didn’t react at all. But she might just have a hard façade. I am sure the military helped with that.”

“What’re you gonna say when it’s your turn?”

“What can I say?”

Jan pressed her lips together as she wracked her brain, only to come up empty. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I get it, this is a lot to process at once, especially if she is who you think she is. Maybe don’t even bring it up yet if you’re not ready.”

Nicky sighed, resting her head against the wall. “I guess that’s the best option,” she agreed halfheartedly.

By the time it was Nicky’s turn, her nerves had subsided. Whatever Jaida’s reaction to her was, she was sure she could handle it. “Hi. Um, I’m Nicky and–”

Jaida cut her off by firmly cupping her face and kissing her hard and for as long as her lungs would allow. “You fuckin’ think I wouldn’t recognize you? Come on, Nicky.”

It took a moment for Nicky’s brain and mouth to reconnect, for her head to stop spinning. “It’s been fifteen years,” she whispered in her weak defense. “I didn’t think… I never thought…”

“Neither did I,” she assured gently. “But here we are. We can talk later, we gotta get this assessment done before Rosé bitches at me.”

——

It had taken another few days for the details surrounding the first case to come together, and it would take longer than that for it to be put into action. But as it progressed, they all became more and more invested, and Rosé was thrilled to see her ideas, her seemingly far-fetched concepts, starting to take form.

“I’ve been working with one of the victims for this case very closely, I think it’s important to have someone like her on board,” she was explaining. “Mik,” she prompted, “I want your job in this to be working with her, I think you’ll handle that best.”

Mik tilted his head. “Sure, but based on what?”

Rosé shrugged. “Being a detective, you pick up on the ability to read people, you know, get a sense of their personalities. I think yours will balance with hers, and that’s going to be a necessity.”

“Believe it or not, one thing we’ve learned doing this is empathy. Not that we weren’t before, but this shit like, really bonds you with people,” Mik remarked.

“Definitely,” Jan agreed, “I’ve made connections with people through the process of getting them their revenge that I’ll have forever.”

Denali nodded, “I got invited to a client’s wedding. Honestly, I forgot she even hired us, I just see her as my friend now.”

Rosé beamed broadly as she listened to their anecdotes. This was what she had hoped to find in her previous career, to help people that needed it and solve problems. She wanted to connect to her community even when she was rather high-ranking. But it ended in frustration and hurt time and time again. Part of her almost envied the gang, how they had managed to achieve this all on their own. More than anything, however, she was happy to see it happening. “Can I ask you guys something? How did this happen? Like, what inspired you guys to come together to create this enterprise?”

“We’ve all got our backstories, gorge,” Mik chuckled dryly. “Took a while for us to all find each other, but we all had that in common.”

“What, that you all took revenge in your own lives?”

All of them nodded in confirmation. “You gotta start somewhere, right?” Jan hummed.

Rosé leaned forward in interest. “So… Can I hear them? Your stories?”

The group exchanged glances with each other, then nodded. “Buckle up, Detective,” Gigi warned, “this is going to be one hell of a history lesson.”

[ratisnotcrying]

it wasn’t peaceful, but it was enough

Summary:  Technically, they weren't dating. Neither Sonny nor Rafael had ever tried to raise the issue of labelling their friends-with-benefits-who-also-go-on-unofficial-dates-at-least-once-a-week situation. Actually, Sonny had mentioned it once, a few months after it all started, when he thought Barba was asleep and neither of them mentioned it the next morning.

Pairing: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.

Warning: none!! just some hurt/comfort, fluff and slight spoilers for the end of s17 and beginning of s18

Word count: 1.2K

A/N: this may be a little ooc but idc barba is Tender sometimes!! also this is crossposted on AO3 under the same title :)

~~~

Technically, they weren't dating. Neither Sonny nor Rafael had ever tried to raise the issue of labelling their friends-with-benefits-who-also-go-on-unofficial-dates-at-least-once-a-week situation. Actually, Sonny had mentioned it once, a few months after it all started, when he thought Barba was asleep and neither of them mentioned it the next morning.

Barba was starting to think that maybe they should define it, or at least acknowledge what it really was, acknowledge that Sonny spent more time at Rafael’s than at his own place and had his clothes in Rafael's wardrobe and was the only one, besides his abuelita, who could snap him out of his foul moods.

If he thought about it, he would guess that it was after the death threats started that Sonny became a part of his future, more than just a not-quite friend. When Sonny found out about the threats, from before and after Munson’s trial, he became even more protective than he was before - which was actually kind of impressive. He started coming over after work to cook for the both of them, he’d text him on his break to make sure he was okay - it also gave him an excuse to stay the night, not that he really needed one, not anymore.

It was late, after nine, and Rafael's office light was off. It must have been Carmen - saving electricity and all that - but he had only been gone twenty minutes to get a coffee, so she could have left it on. Sonny always turns the switches off too.

He pushed the door open, then closed it with his hip, juggling his coffee and a handful of papers as he tried to flick the light switch before dumping it all rather unceremoniously on his desk. Somewhere underneath all of this shit was a bottle of painkillers, but he didn’t want to risk shifting any of the stacks of paper in case they fell. Perhaps, if criminals had to do this paperwork instead of us, the crime rates might drop, he thought idly.

"Christ!" He exclaimed. He’d been sitting at his desk for nearly ten minutes before looking up and doing a double take, "Detective, why are you sitting in my office in the dark?"

Sonny barely seemed to acknowledge Rafael was there, let alone that he had spoken, just shifted his vacant gaze from the window in front of the sofa to the shelves behind Rafael.

"Carisi, what's the matter - has something happened?" Rafael asked, concern creeping into his voice and urgency into his actions as he rounded his desk, coming to sit next to Sonny on the sofa. For a while they just sat, the only sound was their breathing but there was an almost violently anxious atmosphere radiating from Sonny.

"Did Lieu tell you what happened today?" Carisi said eventually, voice barely above a whisper.

"She said that Cole was aiming at you when she came in so she took the shot - was there something else? Are you hurt?!" The panic in his voice was palpable and his hands flittered uselessly around Sonny before he looked straight at Barba.

"He-" Sonny took a deep shuddering breath, only letting it go when Rafael tentatively twined their fingers together, "The gun was on- He was aiming at my head." Sonny's voice cracked as he pressed the heel of his free hand to his forehead.

It took Rafael a moment to put it together and his mind helpfully supplied him with the image of Sonny with the barrel of a gun pushed firmly… then, "Oh. Oh, Sonny, I'm sorry."

Rafael gently tipped Sonny's chin up because… yes, there was still dried blood on his neck and under his collar. Sonny must have been covered - the thought made Rafael blanch. Sonny whimpered a stunted, broken noise in the back of his throat when Barba stood, but he relaxed minutely when Rafael dropped a gentle kiss onto his head. Barba went to his desk and pulled a packet of wet wipes out of the second drawer. He never used to keep them in his office, but the second draw had become what one imagines a mother's handbag looks like - something for every possible situation - and all because Jesse had thrown food over his desk the previous month.

The moment wasn’t quite peaceful - Sonny was crying, he had tears streaming down his face and his body jolted as if electrocuted with each new wave; Rafael didn’t move from his place on his knees in front of Sonny, cleaning Sergeant Cole’s sins from the delicate lines of his neck. No, it wasn’t peaceful, but it was enough; Sonny felt safe, surrounded by Rafael’s soothing voice, soothing hands, he felt at home.

Sonny was the one to break the silence, "I thought I was going to die, Rafi. It was so cold and, jesus, it just - my whole body I just froze." He reached up to cover Rafael's hands with his own, holding firmly, grounding him, physically stopping him from going back to that house.

"I should have been paying attention. I should have cleared that house properly. If I hadn't been distracted I could have-" Sonny's hands wound tightly into his hair and his breathing hitched and faltered.

"Hey, hey, none of that. You did good, sunshine, you did good, and you’re here and you’re safe, okay?” Rafael brushed his thumbs over Sonny's cheekbones to wipe some of the tears away, however, more fell in their place as Sonny tried to speak again but choked on a sob.

“Hush, Sonny, it’s okay, you don’t -” He stopped abruptly when Sonny placed his hand over his mouth and pulled him up onto the sofa beside him.

“No, I need to say this, Rafi, please.” Sonny was silent for a few seconds as he tried to organise his thoughts.

“Sonny, we talk about this later if you like?”

Sonny shook his head, “I thought I was going to die today. I thought that they would be scraping me off the floor and I didn’t think of my family - well, I did - but mainly I thought of you. I don’t know if you want to hear this but I need to say it - all I could think about was you and how you like to cuddle, even if you deny it, how you snack when you’re thinking, how-” Sonny laughed shakily, “you colour coordinate your socks and underwear.”

Rafael laughed a little too, wiping the fresh tears from Sonny’s face.

“And, I realised that I was going to die before I could tell you… before I could tell you that I love you, Rafael. I love your passion and your snark and - and I love waking up next to you and -”

“Sonny?” Rafael said calmly.

“Jesus. I’m sorry. I understand, if you don’t feel the same. We can stop this and, and I’ll-” Sonny’s voice faltered and he stood, hands tugging at his hair again.

“Sonny, look at me?” Rafael stood, placing his hands on Sonny’s hips and pulling him closer. “You know me, no nonsense. If I didn't feel something for you, Sonny, something meaningful, I would have ended this months ago.”

Sonny looked a little less panicked now; his breathing was still ragged, his hands still shaking, but he managed a weak smile and wrapped his arms around Rafael’s shoulders.

“Is that your way of saying you feel the same?”

“Yes,” Rafael said, standing on his tip-toes to kiss Sonny’s forehead, “I love you, Sonny. Now, let’s go home.”

[dindooku]

ao3 - loulou1810

you hesitated, knowing there was no other way around this. he could just look you up on the holocomputer. your name would be top of the list. and he’ll, you were in a max prison security unit, so using petty crime wouldn’t cut it either.

you’d have to tell him, be honest. that’s the honourable thing to do, right?

tw - contains violence, suggestive themes and flashbacks of sexual assault/rape

word count: 5,040

____

His chair slowly turned to face you. The child was sat comfortably in his lap playing with a small silver ball, completely entranced by its chrome.

“Is that it?” He scoffed back with a slight hiccup of a laugh. “Me too, why’d they lock you up there? Bit overkill?”

“Yeah…” You drifted, wondering whether you should tell the truth. “I was captured about 2 years ago…” You start, gauging his reaction to see whether he actually wanted to know. He sat up and fixed his gaze to you, signalling that he was listening and for you to continue. You dropped your head, eyes now transfixed on the loose piece of thread you were wrapping around your fingers,

“Well, I was captured. I was originally what you could call a hit-man for the Republic. I’d worked for them consistently for around 8 years. They used me to hunt down and dispose of Ex-Empire politicians and War Lords, but one mission went south and I was drugged. I was then sold to a high-class underground fighting ring, they’d implanted some sort of control chip which meant they could stop me from lashing out or protesting. They could make me do whatever they wanted…” you paused.

This part of the memory was particularly painful. “They didn’t just use me for fighting,” There were so many hidden meanings and stories hidden there, stories you’ve hidden away and not even bared to think about yourself. They’re too painful, just thinking about it felt like daggers were being slowly pushed into your skull, “One customer had let their name loose during…” Your breath hitched, tears now pricking your eyes as the trauma replayed vividly in-front of your eyes, again and again. You close your eyes so that Mando can’t see how much this has affected you. “I committed the name to memory. During one fight I heard that name again. I saw them in the crowd and something in me just snapped, I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. As soon as I’d dealt with my opponent I sent a knife straight through his skull.” The memory was clear as day now and just as callous.

The extravagant curtains draped the room. Rows of black leather chairs lined the arena, circling around the central ring. The lights were dim, a subtle red stained the multicultural onlookers in a bloodied mood lighting. This was a highly prestigious place, only the highest-ranking officials and galactic influencers could witness this fight… this was obvious from the lavish guest attire. Some coated greedily in gold, others jewels and crystals. Normally you’d be dismayed by the lavish beauty of it all, but not today. You were fighting for your life against one of your more difficult opponents. They were at least 3 times your size, chiselled from pure warrior muscle, wielding a heavy battle-axe which was decorated with the bones of their previous wins. You’d given them a run for your money the whole fight, slowly chipping away at their ego with your double-edged Phrik knives. These were the only weapons you needed. Despite this, you weren’t yourself in this moment. Your targets unbeknownst to you were sat peacefully in the viewing box. Your thoughts were painful, the weight of the constant torture and manipulation had worn you thin, you were on your last tether. Despite the chip stopping you from resisting, your soul was ripping that connection from you with every punch, kick and slice. ‘This is your purpose, do it’ swirled your mind in a violent tempest. The words tortured you, controlling every cell in your body.

And then you heard it, their name. You glanced towards its direction. They were right there, in front of you, taunting you with their presence. ‘Complete the mission. Do what you have trained to do. Feed that temptation ’. You’d had enough. As if timed moved slower now, you slid under the belly of your opponent, grabbing their ankle you kicked yourself up, swinging onto their back. You planted a knife into the nape of their neck, twisting it to make sure. As they fell forwards you used the momentum to jump, launching your other knife over the barrier and into the viewing box.  It left your fingers before you could control it, before you could stop yourself. The next few seconds felt like a lifetime that day. The confused agony not leaving their face until you’d dropped to of view. You’d watched their face as they realised what had happened. The synthetic mind that had been forced into you left the moment the knife did, and the weight of that kill latched onto your soul.

“The synthetic consciousness left with the knife. What I didn’t know is that they were a high ranking Republican political official, and you can piece the puzzle from there. That was that. It was over for me”

You could feel his rage. This had angered him more than you.  You didn’t dare say a thing. You fiddled harder with the fabric in your fingers now, the anxiety was suffocating you and you didn’t know what to do.  You knew that what the officer did to you was wrong, illegal. But the way you’d been treated afterwards was what stung. You were the dirty criminal, they were a war hero. It didn’t take long for them to convince you that you were crazy, that you were a psychopath.

This guilt would carry you to the grave, maybe even push you in.

“If it wasn’t your choi-… if it was synthetic, why’d they lock you up? You were kidnapped and manipulated.” The question fair, and exactly the same question that had eaten away at you ever since they sentenced you. You were taken, held hostage, abused and tortured. Your body became a toy, something for them to release their anger and lustful cravings on. The pain they slowly incited within you only made things easier for them, more enjoyable, they fed off your hate. You tried to cut your emotions, but what they did to you was unforgivable, sadistic. They used your emotions against you, like Lori said would happen. By the time their use for you came around you were an empty shell, stripped bare. They implanted you, and with the flip of a switch, you were their puppet.

“My kidnappers implanted a chip into my brain. They could control me when they wanted, on and off like a droid. It was an old hijacked Clone Wars tech. They only had one use for me, making money. Once I’d done their bidding for them, they’d turn it off. After the incident though, they destroyed the switch along with the evidence. I was classed as insane. The Republic arrested me and took me in. That's how I ended up in the transporter. I was Disposable”

The last word rang your ears, it was driven into you from the start. No one had any attachments to you, no one. You were nothing. A credit without currency. An object.

The sigh that left your body felt like it took the last remaining pieces of your soul. Your tears relenting now, a nervous response to the rehashed trauma. You’d thought about it until your mind was raw. No matter how hard you reasoned with your conscience, you couldn’t shake the guilt. It was your fault, you knew it. You wished that you hadn’t thrown that knife, that you’d had more self-control and restraint. Deep down though, there was no other reason, you killed them, no one else. You, you’re the sick psycho.

“So they can’t control you anymore?” It was low, quiet. You knew he was trying to understand how it all worked, it was confusing even to you, and you weren’t the best at explaining things either.

“I don’t think so, they said they’d destroyed the controller,” You told yourself that they couldn’t control you like they did then, not anymore. But you couldn’t deny the power they still held over you. The way they’d manipulated, engraved their domination into you meant that you’d do anything they’d say out of fear. They were the only people you feared. You couldn’t face that pain again, and you knew resisting would only lead to torture. Out here in this ship, flying through hyperspace… they had no grip here, you were away from them, free.

He seemed uneasy, and you thought it was because he suspected that you could just turn on him at the flick of a switch. You were sure that they’d destroyed it. They’d not used it since…

“Would you like a job?” Out of everything you thought that he was going to say, you really could not have ever thought he’d be asking to employ you. You darted your eyes up, the confusion on your face was almost painful. Completely speechless. He elaborated, “I need someone to look after the Kid” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d just told this guy that you were a top-ranking assassin and now he wants to employ you as his babysitter?

“Are you having a laugh?” Is all you could say, chuckling as the words left your mouth. You’d never dealt with kids. You had no idea what you were doing. Mando seemed to be doing fine, why did he need you?

“Why, what makes you think that?” He sounds confused now. He shifts his head back a bit, his back straightening. He really did not know why this was all so confusing…

“You want me…me?” you point to your chest, emphasising your concern “of all people, you want me to look after the Child? Did you listen to a word I just said?”

“Yeah. You’re overqualified. Exactly what I’m looking for.” Right, this is odd. You pinch yourself, are you really awake. Have you somehow died or is this some messed up dream?

“I don’t understand?” You curt back, arms now folded in an aggressive manner. You weren’t up for being played around.

“I need someone who can protect the Child, you said you were trained and that’s obvious, I saw the way you moved from me in the cell, how you came away unscathed from Xian” He was right. You started to see what he was getting at, and despite agreeing that you could quite comfortably be the Childs personal bodyguard, you couldn’t deny the fact you had no idea how to look after a Child in the first place.

“I have no idea how to look after a Child…”

“Neither do I, we can figure it out together” He looked down to check on the kid. He was in a whole other galaxy, completely amiss to the tense situation happening just in front of him, the chrome ball his only concern. Mando’s gaze held for a moment, you assumed to weigh up all the possibilities of what he was offering. He turned back to you.

“You can call me Mando” And with that, he left the cockpit to put his weapons away in the main hull. You glanced at the child’s beaming toothy grin as he was carried away. You were frozen. That was it. You’d just bagged yourself a job.

___

He watched you, eyes bearing into your back as you assessed what was now going to be your new home…if you could even call it that. He handed you a small bag of clothes, some black long sleeve t-shirt’s that were way too big for you, some trousers and toiletries. The gesture was appreciated. You placed it down next to the metal slab of a pull-out bed… Damn, it is what is. You scold yourself, you’ve never had luxury, why do you expect it now? Maybe the promise of freedom was sweeter than it actually was. He nods for you to follow him out of the room.

He shows you the fresher, which is small but practical. Next, the carbonite freezer, explaining briefly that this is where his bounties go. Then, he pointed to his cabin, making it explicitly clear not to enter or open it unless he says so, even in emergencies. You thought it was odd but then it clicked as to why, and so you let the question die before it surfaced.

You’ve heard the stories of Mandalorian’s, how they’re the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You’d read books about the battles, the power that ran through their blood. Through your job, you’d come across a few who posed as Mandalorian's but were never real. They wore the armour for protection and style, never out of honour. But with the way this guy acted, spoke and had some sort of attachment issues to his armour… you sussed he was the real deal. Xian even said the doesn’t take it off during…stop.

_____

A few days had passed now and Mando was getting more and more agitated. You’d stopped off at a small spaceport on a remote planet to gather more supplies and fuel.  

You walked together through the market. He’d given you a small bag of credits so that you could get some spare clothes, toiletries and anything else you’d need for your stay on the Razor Crest. It wasn’t much but was enough to tide you over. You couldn’t complain, you had no money so it was better than nothing. You made sure to say thanks as you walked out the ship, following just behind him.

The market was a bit overwhelming at first, but once you’d realised that no one was out to get you you settled down. Mando walked in front, the Kid sat up in his pod, watching the people go about their lives. You noticed that people were making extra effort to stay out of his way, turning to whisper to others as you passed. He stuck out like a sore thumb wearing all that armour, but he didn’t seem to care. It certainly made traversing the busy streets a lot easier. You also found that you got things for a lot cheaper too, he’d stand just over your shoulder each time you went to a stall. The owner would give you the biggest smile whilst simultaneously trying not to anger the armoured chrome bucket behind you.

You found one stall that sold a bazaar range of things, from cutlery to footwear. But what caught your eye was the small Orback toy sat over in the far corner. It was perfect for the kid, it’d keep him distracted and it meant that Mando might get the silver chrome ball back. You asked for the price, not bothering to haggle the shopkeeper. Once you’d paid for it he handed it over and you placed it straight into the Childs hands. He looked it over for a second, confused at what you were giving him. He soon realised and the noise he made melted your heart, he was ecstatic. Waving it around in the air you grabbed the silver ball and handed it to Mando. He nodded at you, then glanced at the now screaming child who was what looked like laying down the law to his new friend.

After a while, the distance between you and Mando got closer and closer until there came a point where your arms were practically nudging one-another with each stride. You didn’t mind the contact, it was nice actually. Even in the busy streets, you felt like the only one there, his presence looming and protective. As the streets got busier you started to get antsy, you’re now scanning for possible threats. You didn’t want to slip up on your first day on the job, first impressions count. Mando could sense your tension and tried to soothe you by resting a hand onto the small of your back as you were walking. It brought your attention away from the dark alleyway and the rooftops and right into his touch. It paid off and you were instantly calmer. You said thanks through a small smile, which still hadn’t left your face whilst you were packing your stuff away back on the ship.

“We have to go somewhere, to pick up someone. I know you’re skilled in fighting, more than many I’ve seen” The compliment lands short as he continues, “The Child has a bounty and he isn’t safe until we take out the root cause. I'm going to need your help with this, is that ok?”

“Yes… for the Child, anything” He stared at you for a second. You guessed it was so he could read your face, ensure that you were ok with what he was asking of you. If it meant that the Child would be safe, then you’d do it. You know it was now your job, but over the few days you’ve been part of his crew, the Child has grown on you, incredibly. He’s already taught you so much, things you never thought you’d learn, and you’re grateful to the Child for that. Even though he can’t talk, he still finds ways to communicate warmth and hope. You don’t like to admit it but he is growing on you…a lot. He nodded and then left for the cockpit, firing up the engines and directing the ship out of the port. You turned away, walking back to your room.

__________

You wake screaming, the torture of your nightmare gripping your neck vindictively, suffocating you, dragging you into the depths of your mind that you never want to re-visit. You’re screaming but its broken, bloodied, hurt. You’re sat upright now, gripping your neck as you find release, the door to your cabin swinging open. He rushes in, quickly scanning the room for the cause, only to set his eyes on you and realise the root of the problem. He slows, just a small space between the both of you now, his helm still checking to ensure there’s no physical harm causing your pain.

You struggle to catch your breath, still clutching at your throat. The dried tears coating your cheeks, your eyes glint off of the ships dimmed lights. The extend of your struggle was shown in the reflection of his Beskar suit, the physical strain pertinent around your neck, the grip you’d been holding was enough to kill.

You were still struggling to breathe but were completely conscious now. Mando reached out a hand to your shoulder, trying to soothe you, “Breathe” He looks again to triple check the child isn’t doing any crazy magic as he had woken in a fit of tears too.

You quickly turn to look at him, your breathing still hoarse. The physical contact cutting through your mind and bringing you to now. Your eyes search for his. The black visor stared back. It’s probably good that you can’t see his face, as its currently slightly torn at the physical wound you’d inflicted to yourself in your sleep. His eyes scan the rest of your body, gazing at your arms which are now bare, the sleeves of the black-top he had given you were now rolled up. They’re riddled with scars of different shapes and sizes, but obvious. He glanced to your neck again, the edges of some pointed out from under the neck of the tee, some raised, some etched, some burned.

“Sorry for startling you…I…” The embarrassment starting to set in now you’ve absorbed the situation.

“The Child woke in tears too, and then I heard you screaming. Cara’s looking after him now”.

You furrow your brows at the new information. The Child too? Was he connected to your dream somehow? Or did the feeling transfer… you wouldn’t know, just acknowledging the connection and leaving it at that.

“Yeah… I was confused too…” he’d noticed the coincidence too, “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. You should start getting ready soon.”

All this information was starting to rack your brain, the sleepy haze in your mind making it difficult to focus. Then you remembered.

The last week had been a blur. You’d picked up some reinforcements for the mission. First, an ex-shock trooper who went by the name Cara, the tattoo was one of the first things you noticed. She wore it proudly. Cara seemed nice enough even though Mando had told her your backstory, she understood. Her eyes had seen the horror of manipulation too. She knew pain, death. You doubt she’d excuse what you did, but it seemed as though she’d done her fair share and maybe call it even. You’d made small conversation with her and it seemed that you could trust her, you hoped that she’d trust you too.

And then Kuill, now he was sweet. A kind, older Ugnuaght who had served the Empire. He’d done his time. Like you, he was forced to do something he didn’t want to do. The similarity between you two was silently acknowledged, he knew your pain, wanting to fight back but not being able to. He always spoke to you with soft words. You remember his admission with clarity. A day or so after picking him and his Bluurgs up, Mando and Cara were discussing the plan in the cockpit. You were sat in the corner of the hull, entertaining the Child, rolling the chrome ball back and forth along the floor. Kuill strolled up to you, holding your shoulder, bringing your attention from the Child to him.

“I too know the pain of Capitulation. I served my time, and now I work for no one. My soul is free. You are changed now, your punishment dealt. Make good of your life now it is yours. I have spoken.”

You didn’t know what to say but you knew that was exactly what you needed to hear. You’d never had kinder words spoken. It was bittersweet, but a lifeline nonetheless.

“I don’t know exactly how things will turn out so it’s probably best we prepare for anything” he admits, fear hidden in the admission somewhere. “I have asked Kuill to look after the Child along with IG. You’ll come with me and Cara to sort the problem. To finish this.”

Your head turns to the small Ugnaught now standing in the doorway, Cara to his side holding the Child. You nod politely to them, slightly embarrassed at how they were seeing you. The Child coos, his arms outstretched to his Dad. Cara walks into your room to give Mando the child, he coos again, this time more assertive. Cara tries to hand him over to Mando but he’s blubbering louder now, his arms are now outstretched to you. You sit up properly at the realisation. Mando nods to Cara, giving her silent permission to hand the Child to you. They both watch as you and the Child babble, his hand grabbing around your finger.

The connection warms you. He’s telling you through the only way he knows how that he’s ok, and that you should be too. He exudes calmness, soothing your mind to level with his. You smile at him, silently thanking him for his unique comfort. He nods back with a coo, head-turning towards Mando. He looks back at you with a toothy grin, releasing your finger then making grabby gestures to Mando. You smile to yourself as you watch Mando pick up the Child and leave, resting him in his right arm. Mando’s head was tilted towards the Child as if to ask what all the fuss was about. Cara watches them leave then turns to you.

“Hey,” She says calmly, sitting to perch on the side of your bed.

“Hey, I'm sorry if I interrupted you, I didn’t mean to-” She cuts you off.

“Don't apologise, it’s ok, we all have bad dreams sometimes” She sports a small smile, letting you know she understands. You smile back. It’s nice to have another girl on the ship, you feel like you can open up to Cara a bit more than you can with Mando. You maintain the small smile, showing your sincerity. “The kid seems to really like you” She chuckles, showing a couple of teeth. She’s right, you both got along really well. You’d not known the Child for long but you were already smitten, the toothy grin got you every time.

“Thank you, Cara.” You don’t know what else to say. The simple reply is soft, thanking. You really did appreciate her care.

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one that can make that little womp-rat smile. I’ve tried and he just… anyway. We’re not far out now. You should get ready”

You both exchange a small smile, it's sweet. You know you can trust Cara now.

___

The doors to the weapons locker opened and you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping in awe. There was enough to form a small army! Does this guy have a thing for weapons or what? He reaches out and grabs a blaster. It’s exquisitely crafted, the mahogany wood polished to within an inch of its life. Once securing it in his belt, he reaches out again, grabbing two leather sheaths. Turning, he hands them to you. You put them on, one of them sits on your right thigh, the other sits just under your binder and rests under your shirt. You look up at him, his visor pinning you in place.

“I took you as a knives person” He deadpans, handing you two combat knives. Yeah, true, he’d read you like a book. You loved close combat, the thrill of it was always your favourite. You hated your past but you did have to admit, you enjoyed the hunt, it felt like fighting was what you were made to do. You drop your gaze to the knives. They’re pleasing to the eye. You’d not seen anything like it, the metal had waves to it, like an ocean. You traced a finger up one end of the blade, the sharpness of them tantalising, “Beskar” he chimes. Goosebumps riddled you like a rash, you couldn’t hide the grin that found your face. You’d not had a nice pair of knives since you were taken, hostage. Looking back up to him you thank him, placing one in the thigh holster and the other in the holster on your chest. You felt more confident now, adrenaline starting to prickle your senses; your body was starting to prepare itself for what was to come.

He reaches in again, grabbing a small belt. It was rough and tatty, this must be an older belt he’d once used, the one he wore now was a lot sturdier and more practical. Turning back to you he hands it over. You hear a slight scraping sound, like metal on metal. Inspecting one of the two pouches attached to it you found it was full of little throwing knives. They weren’t the same material as the daggers he’d just given you, but still sharp nonetheless. The grin feverish once you’d placed the belt around your waist, it hung lower than you’d like but it was still practical. You tested the buckle to see if it’d release quickly, and to your amusement, it did. You look back up at Mando, grin now toothy like the kids. “Thanks, hopefully, I won’t have to use them”

“Don’t lie, we all know you want to,” he said jokingly. So he finds it funny now? His comment makes you glance down. He was right, you were looking forward to it. Guilt floods your cheeks and you blush, now coming to terms with how you’d been acting. You didn’t want them to think you wanted to fight. This mission needed to go as smoothly as possible, for the Kids sake. Now they just think you’re in it for the blood, great.

“I didn’t mean it like that…I…” He stutters on his words, now realising the meaning behind what he said.

“It’s ok, I get it” you mumble back, turning away to get your boots from your room. You don’t notice him turning his head back around, watching as you walk back into your cabin.

___

Trust Cara to be carrying the biggest blaster from the locker. She’s all muscle that girl, and she knew it too. A blaster that size would look stupid if you tried to use it, you’re not even sure you could even lift it. Cara made it look like it was second nature, each to their own.

“Let me do the talking,” says Mando. Him? Do the talking? Is he having a laugh? The guy can barely hold a conversation, and now he thinks he’s some negotiating mastermind. You let it slide though, he is a Mandalorian at the end of the day, the armour does most of the talking for him. “Kuill, are the Bluurgs ready?”

“Yes. Someone will have to walk, I only have three” he says back to Mando, back turned as he’s fixing the final bits of equipment to the Bluurgs.

“I’ll walk,” you say, you’re the odd one out at the end of the day. You want to make a good impression, and you thought that a decent walk wouldn’t do you harm. You’ve not had a chance to properly stretch your legs in too long.

“You sure? It’s a fair way?” Cara asks back, she’s genuine.

“Yeah, I need to stretch my legs, let me lend a favour” you smile back. You really did want them to trust you, and you thought this is the least you can do to show your appreciation for their kindness over the last few days.

“If you get tired then you tell me,” Mando commands. There's no room for if’s or but’s, he means it.

You pull a sneaky grin, the temptation to say it was just too much, you can give in this once, right? You pick your next words very carefully but use the most seductive tone you could. It's just a bit of fun…

“Yes, Sir”

Cara chokes out a shocked laugh. You turn to her, she’s pulling her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner. I'm glad that landed well… You laugh back as you both follow Kuill out of the ship to the Bluurgs, her elbow nudging your arm in a jokey way. You both continue giggling, not noticing the now slightly flustered Mandalorian.

Notes:

Hope u guys enjoy this chapter! the next couple chapters are quite action-driven as they follow the original arc, but I'm a few chapters ahead and let me tell you... is it getting hot in here?;)

[gottaenjoythelittlethingzz]

Early Evening

Part 2 of the ongoing, loosely interconnected series Swellview has a New First Lady.

Summary: When Ray returns to the Man Cave after a particularly messy battle against a villain, we get to see the internal workings of Cheyanne's and Ray's flirty, romantic relationship. And Cheyanne reveals exactly how much sway she holds over Ray.

*Keep in this series can be read on AO3 & FF.*

~~~~~

Cheyanne had just finished closing up the store for the night. Another shift gone over without a hitch. The counters were wiped down, the junk was newly organized into bins and separated from any loose odds and ends, and the sign hanging on the glass entrance to Junk N’ Stuff read, ‘Sorry, we’re NOT in’. The cash register was emptied, and she carried the day’s meager profits in the elevator, counting bills as she rode down.

When she stepped into the Man Cave she noticed it vacant. This suited her well. It was nice when she could turn in for an early evening. A rare occurrence in these parts.

She was halfway to the sprocket which would lead her further into the expansive underground maze when a swooshing noise halted her footsteps. A single tube shot abruptly to the floor and a blue-and-red-suited superhero dropped in.

“Honey, I’m ho-hughhh.” Ray came tumbling out of the tube clutching his stomach and nose independently. His sarcastic comment lost behind a violent, extended wrenching noise. Since he’s so use to the tube ride it was clear his nausea was in response to the black soot smudged across him from head to toe. The gooey substance was largely crusted on and had entered ever crevice possible. It replaced his normal golden eye makeup with a smoky eye look. The smell it produced wafted across the Man Cave floor and Cheyanne smelt it herself before he approached her.

Cheyanne went to cover her own mouth and nose before smiling sardonically and using two fingers to trace a subtle path from her manicured brow to her peaked lips. She tapped them lightly when questioning, “So, how’d it go?”

“Terrible!” Ray roared. He further smudged the muck on his face and temporarily lost his balance when he could no longer see. Thankfully, he stopped with a few feet of flooring between himself and Cheyanne to correct his eye sight. “Professor Putrid had us chasing him all over down town and into the Swellview ‘Sludges and Slops’ disposal plant. I fell into a vat of tar trying to land a punch on him when he sprayed me with canned skunk spray.”

“That’s horrible.” Cheyanne made her voice sound soothing and sympathetic while simultaneously desiring to reach for a bottle of Febreze. “It should really be a more difficult place to break into. How did – hmph – how’d you catch him? I assume you did in the end.”

“You better believe we caught him!” Ray scraped at his skin with both his hands looking much like a kitten trying to cleanse itself without help until he opened one eye and then finally the other. “Henry used his super power to taunt Professor Putrid in a game of tag. Led the gross weirdo underneath a bucket of quick dry cementing mud. Done in by his own prototype. They’ll have to chisel his face free to get a clear mugshot of him.” Getting his first proper look at Cheyanne in what had been hours, Ray attempted to draw nearer to her while regaling his heroic tale. “The bucket was just dangling there. Suspended ten feet off the ground. Can you believe it?”

Cheyanne made a circular motion with her arms to raise them in question. A visual distraction as she took a sizeable step backwards at the same time. “Who would have thought?”

“You’re one to know, Chey. Anyone who would do half of something like this to the Man Mane is going to serve time.” He ran his hands over his hair trying his best to peel strands loose. The tar had plastered the locks to his scalp and refused to budge. He took another step forward. He hoped to be met with affirmation of his character. “Man, I’m going to have to do my most advanced hair care routine.” The process was designed to be grueling, employed numerous creams and gels, and was assured to undo most any damages.

“It sure is a good thing there’s a new suit in each gumball because that tar is never coming out.” Cheyanne tried to take a step forward to meet him halfway, but another wave of vile odor hit her nostrils, and she relaxed her arms by her sides. Least he think she was offering her hands. “Speaking of taking criminals to jail. Is that were Henry is now?”

An expression flitted across Ray’s face, one like he had not only forgotten his sidekick had been with him mere minutes ago, but it was as though he had forgotten the teenage apprentice existed entirely. “Yeah, yeah. Henry’s taking Professor ‘Pitiful’ to Swellview county prison. Should have dropped the mad scientist off by now.”

“What have I told you about making Henry go by himself?” Cheyanne’s voice shifts from playful to maternal.

“Henry knows where the prison is. He’s been enough times. He’s totally fine!” Ray manufactured excuses. “This was just an annoying level three villain who didn’t even have a superpower. It’s not like I asked the kid to take Arson Boy to jail by himself.”

Cheyanne shook her head with concern. Her brown eyes were always warm, deep pools of understanding but could turn stern all the same. “I don’t like Henry taking criminals to jail on his own. Some of the officers pick on him for his age. The criminals could escape from him. And besides, a crime isn’t solved until the perpetrator is put away. You should have to complete each job with him. I don’t care if Henry’s getting older and is able to handle more responsibilities. It simply isn’t fair to him that he ends up pulling more hours at work than his boss.”

Ray renewed his tactic with an equal level of enthusiasm that he carried with him down the tube. “But, what if I said I wanted to hurry home to spend more alone time with Mrs. Manchester?” His eye brows climbed his forehead. He reached for her again. This time planning to snake his arms around her curvaceous waist.

“No, no, no.” Cheyanne skipped around the couch, using the furniture as a barrier between herself and the immature man. “Not until you’ve thrown that suit out in a dumpster somewhere far, far away, and taken a long, long shower.”

“Come on,” Ray clasped his hands against the rim of the mobile amenity. He made quick crab walking steps to the left and right while verbally taunting her. “You know I like to fool around in uniform.”

“That’s fine, except we can’t actually see it underneath all that foul muck!” Cheyanne was able to expertly predict Ray’s movements. She herself was unable to bite back the adoring smile from creeping onto her face.

He pointed an accusing finger her way. “Don’t act like you don’t like it just a little bit when I come back sweaty and grimy from an epic battle. You know you’re the only person I can temporarily share my ability with, huh?” Ray’s face was completely overtaken by his perfect teeth shining through his victorious grin. He could easily be swayed by his own words even when they didn’t work on anyone else around him. “It’s kind of our ‘thing’, right?”

Cheyanne gasped playfully and brought a hand up to her chest, bracelets shifting noisily to follow the path through the air her arm created, suggesting she was offended by his lewd suggestion. “There’s a lot more going on with you than natural bodily fluids, okay?”

Before she could condemn him further Ray sprang into action. He catapulted his legs over the couch, slide across the table, and landed with his feet on the cushioned seat directly in front of Cheyanne. She was startled by his boisterous movements and leapt backwards straight into the monitors’ chair. She was able to narrowly dodge his sweeping arms.

“Ulch,” Ray complained. He collapsed against the backrest. His head and arms drooping over the edge. “You’re really not going to jump on this opportunity while there are no crimes in progress, and no one is down here to bug us?”

Cheyanne cocked her head and calmly stood from the seat. She spun it in her hands and walked behind the object to place it between them. “Maybe I will reconsider…” She tapped her nails rhythmically to call his eyes onto her. “But first you must get rid of that old suit. And you have to shower - twice.”

Ray smirked at the images his idea called to mind. “Or maybe you could join me in the –.”

“Shower twice!” In a flash, his face morphed with disgruntlement. Flopping dramatically onto his back and sliding off the couch feet first, he began begrudgingly heading towards the stairs. His feet stomping. He might have mumbled something under his breath.

“And darling,” Cheyanne called to his retreating form.

Ray stopped to look over his shoulder. Hope swelled upon hearing his pet name used.

“Put on one of the shirts I like.”

Ray rotated his shoulders to face her, his expression suddenly befuddled. “You mean, don’t put on one of the many loud button up shirts I wear?”

Cheyanne clicked her tongue and nodded assertively.

He brought his hands up to his chest where he tapped his fists together. “Th-the blue one or the purple one?”

Cheyanne gave him a once over before replying with a curt, “Surprise me.”

“And then, maybe…” his voice trailed. The back of his neck warm to the touch.

“I can be persuaded.”

With an emphatic nod, Ray stated, “I can do that.” He promptly headed towards the shower. A new sense of urgency in his steps.

~~~~

No edit this time, but maybe in the future. Feel free to let me know what you think of this couple so far!