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ejzah · 1 year

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In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 19

***

“Before we do anything else, I should probably put on real clothes,” Deeks said, ruefully attempting to flatten his bed head.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Kensi assured him. True, it wasn’t his neatest look ever, but there was something very appealing about his mussed appearance. It felt…intimate.

Feeling mischievous, Kensi leaned across the table and kissed Deeks quickly. It was more than worth it for the surprised “o” of Deeks’ parted lips. He grinned then, a teasing little twist of his lips.

“Yeah, but if I don’t get changed, we can’t go for a walk on the beach,” he said with a wink. “Or get fish tacos.”

“Ooh, those were really good. Ok, go shower, and I’ll clean this up,” Kensi decided, and started pushing the wrappers and napkins from their breakfast into a pile in the middle of the table.

As she gathered it up in a ball, she realized Deeks was watching her, his expression no longer teasing.

“What?” She checked her shirt for stray bagel crumbs or toothpaste.

“This is nice.” Deeks shrugged, continuing to regard her fondly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a moment like this. With another person. For so long, it’s just been me and Caleb. I mean, Caleb’s amazing, but it’s not the same as this.”

“You just appreciate my cleaning services,” Kensi joked. He snorted at that, downing the rest of his coffee in a single gulp.

“Right. That’s what I’ve been looking for all this time: a housekeeper.” Standing up, dropped a kiss on Kensi’s temple, which somehow seemed more intimate than if he’d kissed her full on the lips. “Besides, I’ve seen your place.”

“Hey!” Kensi protested, lightly smacking his arm.

“What I mean is, I didn’t realize how much I missed this kind of companionship and conversation,” Deeks explained. “I haven’t felt or wanted that from anyone in a really long time.”

Since Monica, Kensi filled in silently. A confession like that should scare her, but it didn’t. Deeks filled a void she hadn’t even realized was there. One that Jack certainly never had, if she was being completely honest with herself.

That seemed like just a little too much honesty for this early in the day. She focused on the table in front of her, methodically gathering crumbs in the center, rather than facing Deeks’ affection.

“You’re right, you better shower so we can get out there before all the tacos are gone.”

“Ok.” She heard the confusion in Deeks’ voice, but thankfully he didn’t press her on it. “I’ll be ready in about 20 minutes,” he said, slipping out of the kitchen.

Sighing, Kensi sat down at the table again, dropping her head into her hands.

“Kensi, you’re such an idiot,” she muttered to herself.

***

Deeks emerged a short time later as promised, hair damp and still clinging to his cheeks and temples, pajamas now swapped out for jeans and a black v-neck Tee.

“Alright, I no longer smell like Caleb’s late night snack and I’m not in danger of getting picked up for vagrancy,” he joked, instantly putting Kensi at ease.

“You seem really concerned about that possibility. Is there something I should know about?” Kensi asked, following him out to his truck.

“Deeks rolled his eyes, leaning against the driver’s door. “In law school and at my last job, it was a running joke because I didn’t exactly fit the expected look for a lawyer. Some even called me “Shaggy”.

“That’s rude.”

“Eh, it was said fondly.” He cocked his head, and amended, “Mostly. I never ever really meshed with a couple guys.”

“Well, they sound like jerks,” Kensi decided, drawing a laugh from Deeks.

He opened the door and slid in while Kensi went around to the passenger side. As she got in, she carefully moved a stray goldfish and Junior B. Jones book off the seat. Otherwise, the interior was spotless, and she decided it was a good thing they hadn’t taken her car. At least not until she got a chance to vacuum it.

“I appreciate your support, but you get pretty thick-skinned at an early age when you decide to grow your hair this length,” Deeks continued once they were both buckled in. “Plus, I’m pretty good at holding my own when I feel the need.”

“That explains why you walked away from your encounter with Sam Hanna alive. You never did tell me the entirety of your conversation.”

“Oh, I was very impressive.” Deeks pulled out of the driveway, pausing to wink at Kensi. “And I will tell you all about it, but first we have tacos.”

***

They ended up taking a long walk along the pier again while they waited for the food truck to finish setting up. Every the social butterfly, Deeks paused three separate times to greet passersby he apparently met during his runs. He probably had acquired more acquaintances in just a few months of living in LA full time than she had her entire time here.

It was just about noon when they made there way back around to the row of food vendors, and joined a small line in front of the taco truck.

“Do you ever regret making the move here?” Kensi asked as they leisurely walked over to a bench and sat down. Deeks contemplated her question with half a taco suspended in mid-air.

“At first I thought I’d made a huge mistake,” he admitted. “Even though I spent so much time in LA as a kid, it’s not the same as living and working her, and working with celebrities is almost crazier sometimes than what I did before, danger aside.” He paused and scanned the horizon, settling with his gaze on the ocean. “But I needed a change, Caleb’s thriving here, and,” now he turned to her with one of his crooked smiles. “We never would have met you if we stayed in Iowa. So no, not a single regret so far.”

Kensi ducked her head, flushing at the implied compliment. “My life hasn’t been so bad since I met you either,” she said. “Definitely a lot less quiet, but I suppose my life was getting kind of boring.”

“You mean 20-some kindergarteners don’t fill every day with unique and unexpected experiences?”

“Of for sure. Yesterday, I had to tell three different children not to like their pain daubers. They don’t wreak havoc with their flirty smiles though and way too tight pants every day.”

“Oh, my pants are too tight? I can go up a size—”

“No, I’m not complaining,” Kensi clarified quickly. “I’m just concerned about the other teachers.”

“Sure.” Deeks grinned again, like it made perfect sense. “So what I’m hearing is that I’m too attractive for my own good.”

“That is not what I said.”

“What exactly do they say about me? The other teachers.”

“Things that make me very jealous. Happy now?”

He didn’t say anything his smug little smile as finished the last bite of his taco and brushed his hands off over the sand saying everything Kensi needed to know. Shaking her head, Kensi muttered under her breath, ignoring Deeks when he nudged her shoulder.

“Hey, you know I’m only joking, right? I only have eyes for one teacher.”

Kensi glared at him through narrowed eyes. Standing up, Deeks held out his hand, and after a moment, let him tug her to her feet. He slipped a hand around her waist, using the other to support her back, and swung her back in a deep dip. He held her there for a moment, then kissed her soundly.

She couldn’t contain a surprised laugh that bubbled up, and clasped her arms around Deeks’ neck as he gently pulled her upright again.

“I guess you’re off he hook this time,” she decided, brushing her nose against his. “But I’m keeping my eye on you, Mr. Deeks.

***

A/N: Don’t worry, Caleb shall return soon. Sometimes you do need a little adult time to yourself. The Kensi/Deeks day will continue in the next chapter.

As always, I can’t thank everyone enough for your love and support for this story.

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #fluff #in miss blye’s class #part 19 #au #lawyer deeks #teacher Kensi #self indulgent writer #ejzah fanfiction

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thechosenstories · 6 months

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Nobodies Safe

Part 8

Gathering my thoughts I quickly looked around the dark room for my purse. I needed to call Yahli. “ What the fuck!” I said aloud . With my hands shaking I fumbled around my bag for my phone . Quickly scrolling my contacts I found her name and hit call.

“ Hello”, she said groggily, I’m assuming I woke her up. I quickly hung up. I don’t know if it was embarrassment or just not wanting to get her tied up in this shit anymore than she already was . Whatever it was I didn’t send her an S.O.S. What I did was call an Uber. Sent a pin. And waited. While I waited outside without a person in sight. Make up running and my feet throbbing I became enraged. I couldn’t describe where this new found pain came from but I was livid. I felt violated. These mutha fuckas really took me to some back alley building and did god knows what to me while I was passed out for however long and then just left me. I snapped out of my internal battle just in time to see headlights approaching. After the nights events I took a few steps back to match the vehicle with the photo on my phone before proceeding to do the same with the driver . Once confirmed I got in , mind racing and attempting to come up with a plan . It was no longer about paying a debt back. It was now about getting even. Payback is a bitch and tonight that bitch is me!

Arriving at the hotel I greeted the doorman and proceeded to the elevators. I quickly made my way down the hall to my suite. Once inside I walked straight to the mini bar . Twisting the top off I drank straight from the bottle until my chest felt like it was going to explode . Sitting on the floor for the first time since my life changed a few days ago , I cried. I cried so loud and so hard I know the entire hotel floor heard me. I didn’t care. I cried over loss, over loneliness, over anger, and the unknown . The next morning I woke up on the floor in a fetal position. Oddly enough I felt good. In fact I felt great. I pulled myself together , put my phone on the charger and handled my hygiene . I grabbed my phone as it alerted me of a text. “ Hey girlie, let’s plan to meet at the dock around 4 xoxo” I looked at the time and realized I have 30 mins to get there. I called the front desk for car service and made my way to dinner knowing tomorrow all of this would be over.

I arrived at the dock right on time and was immediately welcomed with a kiss to each cheek. I hugged Yahli and took a seat as we proceeded to coast off into the sea . I laughed at all of Pedro’s corny jokes and wondered if Yahli was faking too. My stomach started to growl and I was hoping dinner would be served soon so I could eat and we could discuss the accounts . Between me starving and being on this water a struggle needed to be picked. And soon. As if the chef could read my mind he rang a bell and we all proceeded in the cabin to eat. The spread was beautiful and tasted amazing . “ So Chosen, I’m sorry about Tyrell. I sincerely always enjoyed his company. I only knew him through business but each time we were in each others presence we shared stories and laughs. I can’t imagine the pain you feel. But I hope this gives you some comfort. Tyrell has a safety deposit box that he kept strictly for emergencies. He left clear instructions that if ever this day would come or he died, I was to give you this key. And this letter. Please do not read it here. You read at the hotel when you alone” he said in broken English . I reached for the key that was taped to a letter folded multiple times as Pedro cupped his hands in mine as if he knew how relieved I was to know I would be ok. Tyrell did plan and in his plan he included me. “Tomorrow you will come to the bank and you will access that safety deposit box, then everything will make sense. Now eat up and enjoy” he said as he grabbed Yahli for a long kiss . I smiled without realizing how stupid and creepy I probably looked just staring at them kiss. But I missed that. It was these moments that made me yearn for Tye. The way he would kiss me so passionately no matter where we were. I quickly turned my head to my glass of champagne and took a sip . My mind went back to the letter. I wondered what it said. I wanted to jump ship and swim back to shore just so I could open it up. But instead I attempted to enjoy the ride and continued to miss my man.

#fiction #love #short stories #stories #urban fiction

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mental-health-advice · 1 year

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TW: depression, suicidal thoughts

My partner has been going through a very rough couple of years, and is in a suicidal depression episode for about 3 months now. I didn't fully realised this until last month, mostly because he had stopped consistently communicating with me (LDR). He even made plans, and only told me a week or so after he decided not to go through with them. He had even decided what he was going to leave me, which was very heartbreaking.

I feel like he has been getting better, and he started talking about future plans. But he also tells me that he relies too much on me for comfort, and that at the same time I'm his biggest trigger. I feel like all I do/say has the potential to lead him to a downwards spiral, where he gets anxious, can't sleep, and that worries me. For example, if I say I'm too tired to watch something together, he might find that extremely disappointing to that point. I try to fix it and say "ok, maybe something short", and then he will say no. I notice a pattern where I try to fix it, but then he just gets more annoyed at me. It's giving me flashbacks from a previous relationship, and I now feel sad and anxious in turn. How can I better deal with this situation?

Thank you!

Hey there,

It can be so hard when we are in a long distance relationship with someone and they are really struggling with mental health conditions like depression and suicidal ideation. The most important thing to remember though is that despite the fact you love your partner you cannot fix him. I know how hard this must be hard to hear but unfortunately in the end your partner has to decide to want to actively get better whether this includes therapy, other supports or in some cases medication.

Is your partner currently seeking medical or therapeutic help/ support? If not, then this is often a good starting point in starting to get one’s life back on track. The ways in which you may bring this up with him may be difficult though as you don’t want him to feel as though you are telling him what to do or that, but the fact he has stated that he relies on you too much may be the extra push he needs to get some help and support from a professional.

How are you going? It sounds as though you are putting a lot of pressure and stress on yourself in regards to meeting his needs and trying to help in the best ways you know how. So please don’t forget to look after yourself and practice good self-care (eating properly, getting in some daily exercise and getting a good nights sleep!)

Back now to how you may get your partner to seek help! You could try to just have a general chat with him, and casually ask if he has thought about seeing a doctor or GP. Another idea may be let him know that you know he is struggling a lot right now and that there is help and support out there that he can access.

You need to know and remember though that you cannot force him to getting help unless he chooses to do so himself. You can help and support him in the process but you cannot make him choose to get help if he is not ready unless he is at immediate risk in which case it’s important to call his local emergency services or his local mental health crisis team.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please know that I am thinking of you at this difficult time and hope you are going OK!

Please also let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #anonymous #partner #long distance relationship #depression #suicidal ideaation #getting help

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

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Pix, where's your couch?

Some fluff to counter all the angst I've read in the last 24hrs. (Silly move as made myself cry - too many talented writers out there breaking my heart). Or at least if not fluff no angst.

Probably more a teen and up fic than general but still fairly clean (I think... I rubbish at knowing what ratings etc really).

Masterlist

...............................................

Jason stared at the space in the middle of the room.

“Pix, where’s your couch?”

“Hmmm, Jay?”

“I know you said that I could crash at your place again, so, umm, where’s the couch?”

“Oh, It had one to many blood stains so I got rid of it. You always said it was like sleeping on rocks anyway, so I’ve ordered a new one. It’s arriving next week.”

Marinette beamed up at Jason, bouncing on her toes with excitement while she grabbed his hand.

“It’s so pretty, Jay. I’m so happy that I finally could get rid of the old one and get a new beautiful comfy amazing sofa. You should see the pattern on the material. Oh oh and the detail on the frame. Hang on! I'll see if I can find a picture… you have to see it."

Marinette suddenly dropped his hand in favour of dashing about her apartment hunting for the picture as Jason's eyes darted between the chaotic woman and the space where the couch should be. Yes he'd asked to crash at her place in the past and always moaned that the couch was the worst thing to sleep on ever, but it was better than having to be near his family when he wanted to hide. Aaand he also might have come round earlier in the week before heading back to the cave to get some wounds seen to for an easier journey… but still had he really left the couch in such a state she decided to finally listen to his advice and get a new one?

"Pix, that's great and all but umm, where am I going to sleep?"

"In my bed, silly. It's the only other place."

Jason groaned and dragged his hand down his face. He knew what was going to happen next.

"Pix, darling, sweetheart, where are you going to sleep? You can't work all night which I know you love doing. You need to rest too. Look, I'll just call Roy up again and see if I can crash at one of his safe houses. Bruce is less likely to know about those."

"Jay, I'll just sleep next to you. The bed's big enough for the both of us. It'll be fine so you don't need to call Roy."

"What?!"

"It'll be fine. We can share the bed for the night. Now go dump your stuff in my room and I'll make us some dinner."

Jason grimaced as he knew there was no escaping. Roy, the arsehole, would tease him mercilessly if he didn't stay, and if he went he'd hurt Marinette's feelings as she'd offered up her home, her bed, for him to hide.

…………

"Jay, you're as stiff as a dead body. This is meant to be relaxing. If you don't want to watch this film we can sit on my dining room chairs and watch the TV out there. Or I can find some cards so we can play games at the table?"

"Nope, this is fine, Pix."

"Really? Then relax. You don't need to be so tense."

Jason took a deep breath and slowly let it out and forced himself to loosen his muscles and sink into the comfort of Marinette's bed. Apparently, due to having no seating in her living room, she'd taken to watching stuff on her laptop in bed if she wasn't working. Now the pair were both sitting on her bed watching some film she'd selected. Suddenly she trilled next to him.

"Ooo I know what will help. I bought some decent wine back from France with me after visiting my parents. I'll go get it. It's much nicer than the stuff I've found here. You'll love it Jay. It's the perfect thing to help us destress from the week."

Before Jason could respond she'd danced out the room, giggling to herself about her 'great' idea.

Jason swore to himself. He could do this. It wasn't a big deal. He could control himself. He could sit 'very' close and sleep next to his crush. It was only a crush. Not love. In her bed. It won't be that hard. He just needed to keep his cool. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out a strategy to survive the night.

Before he had mentally formalised his survival plan Marinette burst back into the room, glasses and wine in hand, only to trip on her bedroom rug and crash face first into his lap. Miraculously saving the wine and glasses. Jason carefully removed them from her grasp as she turned to peer up at him wide eyed, face dangerously close to where it currently shouldn't be for his sanity.

"Oops. I keep doing that. I really should move that rug. Sorry Jay."

Jason let out an inaudible whine and closed his eyes slowly counting to 10. This was going to be as hard as he originally thought it was going to be.

"S'okay, Pix. Just get up so we can have the wine and watch the film."

Awkwardly smiling at Jason, Marinette detangled her legs and climbed over him to get settled next to him again. Carefully she took the wine bottle off him to open and poured some into the glasses he held out for her. After putting the bottle on her bedside table, she turned her attention back to Jason and the film.

"Now we can relax properly. Guessing you're not ready to vent about Bruce yet."

"Nah, not really. You're making an effort to cheer me up and distract me so don't want to bring the evening down. And don't look at me like that! This is perfect Pix, a much better way to relax. If I wanted to vent I'd go punch and shoot scum. Do *you* want to vent about your latest commission though?"

She looked guiltily at him, "Do you mind?"

Jason looked softly at her and smiled, "Go ahead Pix."

Suddenly it was like a dam had opened and she was telling him about the ridiculous demands expected of her. The issues with the material. How her sewing machine was not playing ball and likely needed a service or replacement part soon.

Jason gazed fondly at his friend (crush) nattering animatedly away. With wine in hand he relished the soft warmth of the room. She was right about the wine helping to relax, the film long forgotten as they chatted away enjoying the safe space she had created under the glow of the fairy lights.

It was only when the film had stopped that they were drawn out of their discussions.

"Oh! We kinda missed that film huh?"

"Yup, Pix we did. And we've finished that bottle as well."

"I'll set another film up, did you want to change and do your ablutions while I set it up."

"Change?" Jason squawked out.

Marinette turned to glare at him. "Yeah, change. You're not sleeping in my bed in jeans Jay. So go change. I'll sort myself in a minute too."

Jason reluctantly left to go to the bathroom and quickly changed. After cleaning his teeth he splashed cold water in his face. He had managed so far. He'd resisted brushing her hair out her face. He'd resisted pulling her close as she leant on his shoulder as she laughed. He resisted kissing her when she pouted when telling her story.

He could do this.

As he returned Marinette slipped out telling him to sort the bed out for them to lie down for the next film. The stars had long since come out and Jason begrudgingly agreed that there was a high chance that they 'could' fall asleep in the next one. (Okay, it was a low chance given his nightly antics and her insomnia but he'd play along with her belief.)

Jason had settled, still sitting in the bed but under covers this time as Marinette re-emerged.

She was trying to kill him.

He had played nice wearing a vest and joggers. She, Marinette, had dressed to kill in just an oversized T-Shirt that hung off her shoulder and brushed the tops of her thighs.

Jason squeezed his hands into fists as she carefully this time manoeuvred around the room, showing off her long legs. Apparently she had a late growth spurt and finally took more after her father than her mother now. Breaking his gaze from her legs as she moved round the other side of the bed he sent her a tight smile as she climbed in next to him.

"You all set for the next film?"

"mm hmm"

As she lent forward to press play, Jason darted his eyes to the ceiling. Marinette turned around to see Jason staring up and laughed.

"Jay, that's sweet and all but I do have sleep shorts on. You'd not see my underwear. Plus you're my friend. I trust you."

"You couldn't have warned me!"

"Nah, seeing your reaction was funny. Now shhh film time."

Sitting back, Marinette grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders and smoothed the duvet down before resting her head against Jason's shoulder snuggling into his arm. She smiled and sighed in contentment as she lost herself in the film.

Jason's blue screened for a moment as his friend cuddled into his arm. He knew she often did this on the couch but still having her do this in bed, in her pajamas, was another matter. He should have been better prepared. He had thought his mission earlier was a challenge. It had now reached monumental difficulty. Feeling her warm breath dance across his arm. Clear smell of her fading perfume. Hearing her slight murmurs to herself as she focused on the plot playing out before them. It took a ridiculous amount of his strength to remain relaxed and try to focus on the film.

He almost lost it as Marinette drowsily started to slowly stroke the bare skin of his arm.

"Come on Pix, let's lay down. You're hardly awake currently. I'll turn the film off for us."

".. mmm.. no... I'm.. I'm awake..you're so hot… *yawn* nice and safe... and toasty… I .. I can..*yawwwwn* fin..esh fim.."

Jason choked when said she was hot until he realised that she meant he was warm. Carefully he extracted his arm from her octopus grip and got her lying down, before turning the film off. He left one set of fairy lights on as knew Mariette disliked sleeping in the dark.

Taking a moment to steal himself, Jason watched as Marinette buried herself deeper into the blankets and duvet. He had checked whether it'd be ok to top and tail the bed earlier, Marinette's glare at the suggestion and the insults about his 'big stinking smelly gross' feet being near her face pushed that option out the window pretty quickly. Especially with some of the creative insults thrown in as well.

Despite all his nerves feeling like they were on fire, Jason slowly crawled back in the bed to settle. The soft lighting, the quiet sound of Marinette breathing, the warmth embracing him, Jason suddenly felt all his energy escape. Forcing himself to relax was tiring. Holding himself back was exhausting. The week had been draining. Surprisingly quickly Jason succumbed to sleep.

…………

Jason woke to light filtering into the room. He felt unusually well rested and content. A warm fuzzy happy feeling that he'd not felt in such a long time flowed through him. Sighing he went to turn only to find that he couldn't move.

Sluggish memories and realisations started to speed up and come to the forefront of his mind. That he was sleeping in Marinette's bed. Next…. Under!?!?! Marinette.

It appeared that Marinette had somehow in the night starfished face down across the bed and now her face was resting across his chest. Her hair was a bird's nest of tangles cascading down to his arm. One hand had a razor clam of a grip on the bottom of his shirt unwilling to let go. One leg was tangled up with his.

It would have been a surprise and embarrassing if he hadn't witnessed putting Marinette to bed as a tiny curled up ball to discover her in the morning sprawled out across the bed in a similar fashion to this. Except this time he was semi pinned down by her. He would say the only embarrassment was that he'd forgotten she got like this. And no other reason at all.

As Marinette still slept, Jason's brain slowly woke more and more. He took on his sleeping friend and admired the peace that was on her face. The lack of stress that graced her features. She was gorgeous normally but at this moment she looked ethereal. Jason basked in the morning warmth slowly threading his fingers through her hair to detangle the large knots. He could get used to this. Too used to this. The comfort. The simplicity. The domestic-ness of it all.

Lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice Marinette stir and blearily looked at him with one eye open.

"Mor'n Jay," a croaked voice drew his attention back to his friend lying across his chest, "Di'ja sleep k?"

"Yeah, Pix," came his soft reply, "best night sleep in a while. I understand why you had the lumpy stone of a couch now. You spent all your cash on this cloud of a bed. How did you sleep?"

She turned her face completely into his chest and he felt her chuckle against him before shifting herself so she was now lying curled up next to him, her face closer to his as she rested against his shoulder.

"Best in ages. No nightmares. At all. Never get nightmares when next to you. You make the cloud bed perfect, Should get you to stay in it forever."

Jason turned to gawk at the woman whose eyes remained closed as curled up against him, "Pix, you can't just say things like that!"

"What? Wha'ja mean? What did I say?"

"Saying that I made your bed perfect. That you want me to stay here forever. It gives the whole wrong impression."

"But I meant it, Jay. Last night I slept all the way through because of you. I love being with you. So why wouldn't I want you around?"

Slowly opening her eyes Marinette leant forward and up to kiss his chin before giggling as she moved away.

"Pix, you're killing me here."

"With what weapon? We're in bed and your weapons are next to you, not me…. And why would I kill you?"

Twisting so he could face her properly, Jason gazed as his semi drowsy friend in soft whispered tones said.

“By making it hard not to ruin our friendship. I love what we have now and I don’t want to lose it.”

“What do you mean? You won’t ruin our friendship. We’ve been through too much for it to be ruined.”

“By doing something stupid.”

“Stupid?”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him in puzzlement, more awake than moments earlier. She pursed her lips trying to figure out what he was trying to say was stupid, unconciously drifting closer to him.

“Yeah, something really stupid.”

“Oh… the only thing really to ruin our friendship would be to leave or betray me… you’re not going to be that stupid are you?”

“No, I don’t want to leave you. Ever really. Being like this is perfect. I… I love being with you… you’re my best friend, just don’t tell Roy that.”

Marinetre softly smiling at Jason, “Ok. I won’t. This is almost perfect, but… did you know what would make it better?”

With their foreheads now touching, in the warmth of the blankets and duvets and filtered light pouring in the window, Jason shook his head. He couldn't figure out what she meant to be better. The moment felt like a perfect dream to him.

"No. What would make this better?"

"If you kissed me."

It took a few seconds for Jason's brain to process the words before it was like the dam had burst, all the restraint he'd used in the last 12 hours, for the last number of months, collapsed. Jason leant forward capturing Marinette's lips with his own.

One of her hands reached up and tangled into his hair as the other rested on his chest. His wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. They lost themselves in the moment as they deepened the kiss while pouring their emotions into it, showing their feelings they have been too afraid to say out loud.

Eventually, they parted breathing heavily. Marinette gave a breathy chuckle.

"Finally."

"Huh?"

"It only took you the whole night, then to be told to do that."

"What?!"

Jason's brain struggled to work out what Marinette was saying. His current focus was more on the sensation of holding Marinette so close. His lips still tingled from her kissing her. It was only because her hand moved to cradle his cheek and she kissed his nose that his attention was drawn back to her.

"Jay, you sweet Doofus, I've been flirting with you for months. You've not noticed what's so ever so drastic measures needed to be taken."

"You've been flirting with me???"

"Yes. Even Roy noticed, he helped me with this."

"You mean this was planned?!?"

"Yup. Completely planned. And Roy even helped me get rid of the couch."

"You planned a 'there's only one bed' situation? Sneaky Pix, that's sneaky."

"Worked didn't it. Plus you love the cliche troupes. Don't deny it."

Jason leaned in close to Marinette, a breath away from her.

"Can't deny it, but we've got months of idiocy to catch up on."

With that Marinette closed the gap to capture his lips. They had the rest of the day to work out and discuss how they felt, right now, right now was for kissing and cuddling in bed. Who knew all that together she just needed to replace her couch.

#maribat #maribat au #dc x mlb #ml x dc #dc x ml #mlb x dc #jason x marinette #marinette x jason #jasonette #one bed #fluff writing

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fa-headhoncho · 3 years

Text

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt/Background: After turning yourself in to the government following the events of CA:TWS, they lock you up for the crimes you committed during your time at Hydra. Spending years there until Captain America got you on parole during the blip to help fight Thanos. Now, after doing community service acts and helping the broken society, when they give the new Captain America the shield, you’re thrown back into a life you didn’t want.

Word Count: 1871 (ahaha, yea)

Reader: Female

Warning: parole officers might be triggering??? idk

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to end my 141 part Wattpad Sebastian Stan imagine book and post on Tumblr instead :’), a happy day. Also, I’M SORRY THAT I LIKE SLOW BURN SERIES OK? Schedule for this series is every Thursday. ALSO IF YOU HAVE TITLE IDEAS FOR THIS SERIES, LMK! PLEASE

Masterlist

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

=====

The sound of your heels echoed throughout the dimly lit room as you make your way through the exhibit. The walls take you back in time, reading how Captain America came to be and all his past accomplishments. They even updated from the last time you were here, documenting the events on the Blip.

You didn’t even know where you were going, absently letting your emotions and feet lead to where it felt you needed to be.

“For a former spy, you’re not really good at sneaking up on someone.” Rhodes’ voice greets you once you open up the curtain to a different area. A small smile sneaks its way across your face seeing the two men in front of you.

“Bit out of practice.” You spit back, walking towards them. “It’s nice to see you again, Rhodie.” You open your arms out to him and he gladly takes the hug. “Hopefully life’s been treatin’ you well.”

“For the most part,” He chuckles out while pulling away from the embrace. You move on to the other man, him happily wrapping his arms around your waist as you wrap yours around his shoulders.

Sam lets out a breath into the crook of your neck before pulling back. “You doing okay?” You ask, looking at his face for any sign of emotion. He nods but there was something in his eye that told otherwise.

You open your mouth to push him for the real answer but Rhodes cuts you off, “Well, I have to get going. It was good seeing you, (Y/L/N), hopefully, we work together soon. Remember what I said, Sam.” With that, he leaves the room to leave you and Sam alone.

The room fills with silence as the two of you turn to the iconic suit and shield in front of you. You try to watch Sam from the corner of your eye but he just stands with his back straight and his eyes forward.

“You know, I’m sure Steve would understand.” You decide to say, clasping your hands in front of you. “I didn’t become as close as you did, but from my time with him during the Blip, he tried his best to help everyone. He had a lot of responsibilities and issues of his own along with having a whole country looking up to him...

“It was a lot… he opened to me about it one night before… you know.” You admit which makes him finally look at you. “He told me what he was going to do and all I could do is support him… I asked him what he was going to do with the mantle and he said give it to you.” Turning your head, you make eye contact with him. “I asked him if he was sure.”

He lets out a snort at that, shaking his head at you. “Really gotta do me like that?” He wipes his hand across his face then stuffs his hand in his pockets as he turns to face you. “I thought we were having a nice bonding moment and then you had to drop me like that?”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips at his whining. “I’m being serious, Sam, stop.” You hit him on the shoulder. “He said there was no doubt in his mind that you do what needed to be done with the shield. He trusted you and your judgment, Falcon.” You emphasize his hero name which he just rolls his eyes at you.

“Yea, I’m sure he did.” He smiles and then changes the subject, “How’s parole treatin’ ya, still got the collar on?” He gestures to your ankle causing you to lift your dress pant leg, flashing the electric bracelet around your ankle. He lets out a hearty chuckle at it. “Still can’t believe that they have you on a leash.”

“Price you gotta pay for freedom.” You shrug and drop the cloth. There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, both of you taking a glance back at the exhibit and the shield.

“Have you talked with Bucky recently?”

“No, I was going to ask you.” Your heart sinks at the realization. “We’ve been texting a bit but I haven’t seen him since I spent the weekend with him a couple of weeks ago.” You shyly admit and look down at your feet.

“Weekend, huh?”

“Shut it, Sam.” You knock your foot against his. “We didn’t do anything, he doesn’t like me like that. Plus, he wouldn’t even let me spend the night. I had to go to a hotel, he sleeps on the floor, Sam! I’m worried about him.” It took weeks for you to convince him to let you come over and you finally knew why when you step into his apartment. It made your heart sink, it looked like if a Hydra cell got a remodel. “He has two chairs and a tv.”

“Living modestly I see.” He snorts out, covering up whatever he was actually thinking. It’s now your turn to roll your eyes at him, frustrated that he isn’t willing to talk about this. “Hey, he’s still figuring stuff out, okay? He just got all his memories back and he’s still working on living with his past. You should know better than I do to give him time.” His tone is soft as he lightly scolds you. You hang your head at his words, knowing he’s right.

It took some time for you to come to terms with your past when you turned yourself in after Hydra and SHIELD fell. You took accountability for your actions during your years at Hydra and spent a few years in jail before Steve took action to help you get on parole. That didn’t mean you weren’t fully recovered.

“When are you joining me on the field, anyway?” Sam changes the topic noticing how you went silent and your eyes looked past him. “I could use you on some of my recon missions.”

A large smile forms on your face at the mention of your parole. “A couple more check-ins and I’m good, I think.” You excitedly inform, “They actually want to talk to me about something, and then it’s the last three months. Saving the world made my good behavior skyrocket.”

“I’m sure it did.” He smiles, “Well, let me know what happens. I’m heading down to Louisiana soon and my sisters want to meet you. She heard about your work with the soup kitchens in New York and she wanted some insight.”

“Really? Give her my number, you know I’d be happy to talk with her. I’ve been thinking about trying to get my officer to convince the big guys to expand my tracking radar so I reach out more.” You start to ramble about the ideas you’ve been having for more community service actions. During the blip, Steve got you into volunteer work and it sparked something inside of you. He said it might give you a new purpose and he couldn’t have been more right.

The two of you spend the rest of the day together, catching up on everything that’s been going on. You didn’t realize how much you missed his snarky comments and banter until he smothered you in it, “making up for lost time”, he said. He continues the bullying by texting back and forth for the next few days.

It was nice to have a friend after everything that happened over the last few years. Steve and Nat were gone so the friendships you built up during the blip were just a memory now. Yea, Bucky and you were friends but it was a bit more complicated than that.

It’s a few weeks after that and they’ve already named some prick the new Captain America. You were frustrated at Sam but you realized that he couldn’t have known that this was going to happen. Especially since when you reached out to him and he was more furious than you were. Bucky was a whole other story. When the press conference aired, he immediately called you and went off about Sam. You couldn’t offer answers so you just told him to talk to him about it. This didn’t involve you.

Now, you were sat at some random government office in DC. You were beyond nervous, leg bouncing and fingers tapping. Kevin, your sweet parole officer, had called you in for an emergency meeting. He didn’t mention anything about the content of it but he assured you not to worry. It didn’t help, though, your mind was scrambling trying to think of anything you could’ve done to break your parole or anywhere you could’ve gone that went outside your tracking radar.

“(Y/L/N)?” The familiar voice echoes through the lobby makes your head snap up. Kevin, your knight in a cashmere sweater, stands there with his hands in his pants pockets. He nods his head, gesturing for you to follow him.

He leads you down a long hallway, stopping at the end of it and holding the door open for you. You send him a grateful smile before entering the office. It was very different from his usual office. The tall windows lined the wall from floor to ceiling, making the already large room feel even more spacious. It was a bit unsettling compared to his close-knit office space located in an old house on the outskirts of DC.

Kevin moves you two to the large conference table on the other side of the room, having you sit before he does. He takes the chair at the head of the table, sighing as he opens the folder and takes a few papers out.

“Sign these.” He slides them over to you but you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re being released.” He announces, leaning back in his chair with a tight-lipped smile on his face. Your jaw drops and your heart picks up but you can’t help but question it. You quickly compose yourself and look down at the papers.

“Isn’t it a bit too early?” You ask while briefly scanning the papers. “I still have two months left, not that I’m not grateful but where is this coming from?” This was happening too suddenly, Kevin was good with warning you about the activities that go on behind the scenes of your parole and he didn’t even mention the thought of an early release.

The brunette man lets out a sigh, running his hair through his long hair. He then leans his elbows on the table with his head propped up on his palms, he opens his mouth to answer but is cut off by the office door opening.

The new Captain America and his sidekick come waltzing in, a few of his goons following as well. He didn’t need the uniform or shield for you to recognize him since his face has been plastered on every channel since they came forward with him. He’s all everyone could talk about.

“He released you.” You barely hear Kevin as your mind goes into spirals. What the hell did this guy want? Why is he even here? What the hell did he want with you?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #avengers imagines #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #tfatws #avengers fanfic #mcu #james buchanan barnes x reader

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aceofwhump · 3 years

Note

Do you have any good 911 whump fic recs?

OMG I have sooo many fic recs for 911. Okay so these are all Buck whump because I love him best. If you wanted Eddie whump or whump for anyone else I don't really have anything for that sorry.

Flare Up by actually18pigeons: Off of a chronic pain prompt - Buck has a flareup sometime between healing from the accident and being reinstated. Pre-lawsuit, pre-Buddie (but there's definitely mutual feelings).

Attack from Behind by Shearmouth: For Whumptober Day 6: "Stop, please." Most days, it's nothing. A twinge if he lands on it wrong, an ache during rainstorms. Other days, Buck can't breathe.

Radio Silence by madamewriterofwrongs: “Don’t worry, we’re on our way to you.” “No.” His halting voice echoed through the radios gathered around the truck and everyone stopped. Eddie kept running. “The whole quadrant’s unstable. Sweep’s done. It’s not safe.” Bobby was going to have a long talk with him about his self-sacrificing habits. For now, he kept his words calm and authoritative; for both their sakes. “None of that, you just hold still. Are you injured?” There was silence. Around him, the paramedics and firefighters of the 118 waited with bated breath. “Pretty bad.” There was little humor in his voice, though they could hear him trying. “My head. And uh, hahaha,” his laughter came as a gust of air. “I’ve been impaled?”

Stolen Moments of Time by SilvertonguedClotpole: Another divergence to the tsunami episode to add to the ever growing collection on here! The 118 crew are working away, busy and tired but hopeful for rest and thoughts of going home to their families, safe. That is, until Eddie picks up a photo, discarded and lost within the debris of the tsunami. Maybe he can reunite it with a family once all of this is over...turning it and glimpsing the faces sends a cataclysmic reaction through him. It's Buck and Chris. They were at the pier. And so, instead of working blissfully as in the episodes, the 118 have to work with the fear in their hearts and minds of their own being in one of the black bags. Camera footage reassures them before ripping hope away again. On the other end, Buck is beginning to give up until he finds Chris and everything is ok once more. Or is it? With emergency services aware one of their own is out there, all eyes are open and alert. And then the 118 get the call. "Affirmative. Go get your boys Nash!"

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger...Right? by McGeekLover: Behind the Scenes: What we didn't and should've seen when the screen went black. OR Four Times we could've seen so much more Buck Whump, Eddie caring and 118 protectiveness and one time it could've been a lot worse.

denial's hard, breathing's harder carefulren: After a water rescue that almost ends badly, Buck comes down with a cold. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself despite getting worse.

death by blood thinners by carefulren: Buck cuts his arm during a rescue, but he doesn't realize until Eddie walks in on him half-naked in the locker room and covered in blood.

Another Head Hangs Lowly, Child Is Slowly Taken... and the Violence Causes Silence (Who Are We Mistaken?) by Huntress8611: “Buck, how we doing?” Hen asked, crouching next to him. “Uh, kinda numb,” he grunted. That wasn’t exactly the truth, and his vision swam as Hen inserted two IVs, the pain in his leg getting worse by the second.

Bring Me Back by Stennerd: It's been months since the tsunami and Buck had been doing just fine. All it took was walking through water to bring it all crashing back.

Buckle Up Buck by PurpleIsAFlavor: with the amount of trouble Buck seems to find its no secret that the 118 family can get a little protective.

Let That Lonely Feeling Wash Away by 221BSunsetTowers: After the fight with Eddie in the grocery store, Buck drops a glass jar and cuts his hand. Buck's just too tired, thinks he's just too tiring, to do anything but buy some gauze and plan on bandaging himself up at home. Buck's not really thinking about the blood thinners he's still on when the blood loss makes him collapse outside the store, right in front of Eddie.

Bruised But Not Beaten by JustSmileStuffHappens (ksz13): Prompt: Post lawsuit, Buck is persona non grata at the house to everyone except for Hen. Bobby orders him to do the worst chores, some that leave Buck bruised all over, with the blood thinners making them worse. One day while Buck has to take a shower after a particularly nasty chore, some of the other firefighters steal his clothes and towels. Bobby is not happy about that but before he can do anything, Buck comes out nude with his bruises on vivid display. Eddie rushes to cover him. ANGST!

Safe by MadalineGrace: Arguably, a fire station was one of the safest places to be. Where else could someone be surrounded by powerful rescue equipment, stores of medical supplies, and a dozen highly trained first responders? In the event of an emergency, there were few places Buck would rather be. Maybe his love for the job had clouded his thinking, lulled him into a false sense of security, he mused as he stared at the growing lake of blood beneath him. After today, it was safe to say that that illusion had been shattered…

the urgency of now by wayfarer: Buck is pretty sure the universe is actively trying to murder him at this point. There’s just no other explanation. In the last two years he has been blown up and subsequently crushed by a fire truck, suffered from a pulmonary embolism, nearly drowned in a tsunami and now this. How many times can he almost die before it stops being an accident and starts being some kind of cosmic hit put out on his life? Or, a building collapses on Buck and Eddie. Confessions ensue.

This Life We Choose by nighting_gale17: Finale fix-it fic When a bomb blows up a firetruck, Buck finds himself helpless, trapped underneath the ladder truck. Freddie is a little more broken and a lot more vengeful this time around. +the fire fam scenes we were robbed of

Whiplash by soft_satan: She parked near him and got out, avoiding the puddle as she approached him. Hands on her hips, she shook her head in pity. “What on earth happened to you?” He looked up at her with a pained smile, his shoulders instantly sagging with relief at the sight of her. “I got carjacked.” ... Thanks to a lack of communication, a horrific accident leads the team to fear the worst.

Bucky bear by wolfypuppypiles: Buck is still struggling with nightmares after the tsunami and Eddie and Christopher come up with a plan to help him feel safe at night.

My heads above the water but there's water in my mouth by wolfypuppypiles: The apartment was silent as she entered and it didn’t take long to find her brother, sitting frozen at the table. He was in the same clothes she’d seen him in when she’d gotten to the VA hospital, same dirt and blood covered skin and angry looking wounds. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him and dropped her bags on the floor, making her way over to him and dropping to her knees at his feet. “Oh my god, Evan. Have you been here since yesterday?” Yes. Yes he had.

Good People, Bad Parents by dateleggy: Eddie nods in agreement. “I remember I cut my sister’s hair into these ugly ass bangs when I was around Christopher’s age. It was right before picture day, too, I was grounded for like a month.” Buck looks at him, surprised. “Just grounded? I would have gotten the hard side of the belt for something like that. Or at least made to sleep outside.”

Will I Ever Be More Than I've Always Been? by Princessfbi:

“Hi Athena,” Buck mumbled from behind the icepack. “This isn’t what it looks like.” “It looks like you’ve been in a fight and the black and blue you’re wearing is telling me you didn’t win.” Buck blinked at her before he winced again. “Please don’t tell Bobby.

"I Am Not Afraid To Understand You by ShyAudacity: This guy, whoever he is, is swaying where he stands ten feet in front of the truck. Looks like he just barely made it out of a doomsday machine in one piece- but that’s not giving him much credit. The white t-shirt and sweatpants he’s wearing hang loosely on him and his feet are bare. Just from watching him stand Eddie can tell that he’s favoring his right leg over his left. His head swivels in the direction of Eddie’s car, but the man just blinks owlishly; like he’s not registering any of this. What the hell is going on? Eddie gets out of his car as his firefighter instincts start to kick in, already asking, “Hey, man- are you okay?”

We Lived Through the Wreck of Our Hearts by soft_satan: When the door to the supply closet burst open, Eddie skidded to a stop only feet away from them, his blood turning ice cold in his veins. A tall, wild eyed man had an arm wrapped around Buck’s neck and a gun pressed to the side of his head

call to arms by renecdote: “For the record,” Buck says immediately, thick through the stitches in his lip, “this wasn’t my fault.” Maddie’s eyes sweep over him, assessing, before her lips settle into a frown. “For the record,” she mimics, “I’m getting really sick of seeing you in a hospital bed.” Buck gets hurt on a call. Maddie meets him at the hospital.

The Wolf That's Yet To Howl by Princessfbi: “If one of you assholes takes another step, I’m pushing this kid over the edge. Do you understand?” Wide, terrified blue eyes dropped to stare at the speeding congested freeway below before leveling back up towards the gun in his face. Set during Season One and Buck's first real scare on the job.

Come Rain or Come Shineby Anonymous: Post-Season 3 Buck found himself alone in his apartment at the end of a 24h shift. Again. While it had been a few months since he had dropped the lawsuit and been reinstated, he couldn’t help but feel like things weren’t quite as they used to be before the truck bombing and everything that followed. Buck maybe wasn’t the brightest, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew well enough he had brought this upon himself. OR Buck struggles with his place within the team as he is forced to confront events from his past he might not have been ready to deal with.

Forgetting to Eat by Wolvesta: This isn't the first time it happens, but damn does it suck OR: Buck forgets to eat

Mother Hen's Bootcamp by Starrylizard: He felt his foot go out from under him, there was a brief intense pain and then time slowed down as he was falling toward concrete unable to stop himself.

#mod post #mod replies #mods fic recs #fic recs #whump fics #911 #911 fox #911 fanfics #evan buckley #ask #anon

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sweetchup · 3 years

Text

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch.1

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 1,800+

Masterlist

————————

“Ok… ok… is there anyway you could—… no? Wait please don’t—…” You let out a sigh as the other side of the phone line goes dead. “Another miss…”

You crumple to the floor of your bedroom in a heap. The storm was still in full swing outside even though hours had gone by and it was now dark. It seemed the storm had caused quite the ruckus in Athens—the capital where you were staying at—and most emergency services were busy.

They even ignored you at the police station you went to earlier, though it likely didn’t help your situation that you couldn’t even speak their native language of Greek…

—.—.—

“No, no. Lost. Child. Not mine.” You explained once more to the officer in front of you, the only one in this place that knew of the slightest hint of english.

The officer only shakes his head once more at you before walking away, turning his attention to the other patrons here that needed help. You wished it was just that they didn’t understand you—that they didn’t understand that you had found a lost boy struggling at sea—but it was slowly becoming clear that they just didn’t believe you.

Tan skin. Brown hair. Brown or green eyes. That was what the average greek boy here looked like. A big contrast from Triton, the pale skinned blonde haired blue eyed boy who you were currently holding in your arms. They just simply didn’t believe that he was a Greek child that had gotten washed away at sea during the storm.

It also didn’t help that no one had called in a lost child that had a similar description to Triton. And, with no other option and too much to do, the police just chose to ignore the glaring problem right in front of them.

“Miss (Y-y/n)?”

At Triton’s call, you looked down at the boy and realize that the more that you look at him, the stranger he gets. Soaked from the rain and sea, you would have expected him to be shivering like a leaf but he was as still as stone. As if he couldn’t even feel how cold his skin was right now. As if he was used to being soaked with the coldest depths of the ocean.

“Miss (Y/n)?” Triton calls again, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, sorry, I spaced out. Yes?”

“I-I…” You watch patiently as the boy begins twiddling with his thumbs. As if he wanted to tell you something but was quite embarrassed to be so.

“Is something wrong, Triton?”

“N-no!” The boy shouts out, the loudest you’ve heard him speak so far, before instantly realizing his tone and caving in on himself. His shoulder and back slumping forward as if to hide himself from your sight.

“It’s alright. You can tell me, I don’t mind.” You reassure the boy. You can’t help but sincerely wonder what happened to him. What happened to the little boy, who looked no older than 10, that made him so scared and skittish? And you doubted that getting lost at sea is what caused it.

“I…”

A loud growl cuts off Triton and not the animal kind either.

“Oh… are you perhaps hungry, Triton?” You ask the boy as he bashfully ducks his head into your shoulder out of embarrassment.

“Y-yes.”

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at Triton’s antics. Even though he was quite strange, he was still a cute child at heart.

“Well let’s go grab something to eat. It seems there’s no one to help us here anyway.”

—.—.—

As you reminisce about Triton—who you soon find out after that is a lover of raw fish, extremely strange if you had to say so for yourself—you can’t help but wonder where he went.

After you took him back to your place, a small, only two rooms, one bath apartment you rent near campus, you allowed him to take a shower and borrow some of your clothes. He should still be sitting in the living room watching some cartoons and eating after you left him to take a shower and make a couple of phone calls, all unsuccessful by the way, but it had been well over an hour. You wonder if he could have perhaps gotten bored by now.

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to check up on the boy, you sit up from your spot on the floor and make your way out of your bedroom.

“Triton, is every—“

You stop mid sentence as you take in the scene in front of you. Water…. Water was floating. Triton was floating as well.

It was hard for your brain to rack around what you were seeing. Triton, the strange boy that you had saved from the sea, was floating in your living room on top of a bubble of water. He didn’t seem surprised in any way either as he was in the middle of playing with some tiny bubbles of water himself. Separating and un-separating them at will.

“T-Triton?” You call out again, this time catching the boy’s attention. His face turned to one of surprise and shock as he released the bubbles of water allowing it and him to crash to the floor. Even though your living room floor was now soaking wet, that was the least of your worries.

“M-Miss (Y-y/n), how long were you…?” Triton’s voice trails off as he realizes the question was not needed, you had already seen enough. He begins to pale at all the possibilities. Even though he was in fact a god and could not be hurt by human weapons, there were still many things that could happen to him. He was still a child after all, no were near his mother’s and father’s level of strength.

“Triton…” Your voice calls out again causing Triton to flinch as you draw closer to him, “Are…are you okay?”

Triton, whose gaze was locked at the floor, turned his head upwards in surprise to look at you. Your gaze was not one of disgust or anger. No. Nor was it cold, a gaze he had come to know that his father often wore, or of disappointment, a look his mother often glared at him with. No. Your gaze was kind. Sure, it looked confused but it was also filled with warmth out of concern for him.

Triton felt the hot bubbling feeling of tears in his eyes. He would normally try to hold it in, forcibly stop himself from crying as he knew if his mother found out she would surely beat him. But, he didn’t.

He let the tears spill out. Tears that felt hot against his cold marble skin. Marble skin that was an aching reminder that he was a god, a perfect being. That he shouldn’t be feebly crying in front of a human like this.

Yet, as you wrap your warm arms around his shaking form, he finds himself not minding his warm tears. Warmth reminds him of you, the only one who dared to comfort him. Not his father, nor his uncles and cousins, or the servants, and never, never, his mother.

Triton finds himself crying again. Instead of out of fear, it is out of misery this time. He wished he wasn’t a god, he wished he didn’t eventually have to go back to his terrible mother, he wished that his father would pay more attention to him and show him something… anything. He wished he could just stay like this in your arms. A stranger that was more of a mother to him in less than a few hours, than his own mother was in his hundreds of years of existence.

“It’s okay, Triton. Everything will be okay. I’m not angry.”

Triton couldn’t help but think how he never doubted you in the first place.

—.—.—

As you run your hands through the Triton's hair, who was curled up on your lap, you think about what he had told you.

“So you’re a god…The son of Poseidon and Amphitrite…”

“Yeah…” Triton whispers out, his voice slightly strained from all the crying he had done.

A god. Triton was a mighty Greek god. Even though you couldn’t wrap your head around the situation, you knew you had to. Especially after all that has happened up til now and if you were—

“Are…are you angry?”

You pause for a second, shocked slightly at what Triton had muttered out, before finally answering, “I’m not. Not at all. I just…”

You wondered how you should phrase it.

“… I don’t know how to get you home, Triton.”

The silence is overwhelming after. You didn’t know if you should have told the young boy that but it also wasn’t right to lie to him. You feel Triton shift under your arms and you loosen your grip as he slowly sits up.

“I…” Triton starts before pausing. His gaze shifts from his hands to your eyes, the first time the boy had ever locked eyes with you since you saved him. It reminded you how icy blue his eyes were, a blue that you now realize is not possible for a human to obtain. At least not naturally. A firm reminder that Triton wasn’t one, he was a god. “I… I don’t want to return home.”

“What…” You say startled, “Ok, then how about one of your uncles or—“

“No. I…I want to stay here. With you Miss (y/n).”

Stay here… with you. You didn’t know what to think. You were a struggling college student who spent hours upon hours studying every day. Could you even take care of a child, nevertheless a god? What about his mother, who Triton explained was a horrible being? Or his father, the king of the sea? Could you protect Triton from them? From a god, a being so much stronger and powerful than you?

“I…” You started before abruptly stopping. You wanted to protect Triton, help him. You had to find a way. You couldn’t abandon the child before you like this. Not after hearing his anguished cries for the last hour. As you held him, you felt as if he was made of glass. Like if you even squeezed him too tightly he would shatter into a million pieces in your arms.

“I…I can’t assure anything, I am just a human after all. But you can stay here for as long as you want Triton.”

As you watch the young boy before you smile and collapse in your arms, it was then that your mind had decided. You would protect Triton for as long as you could,

…no matter the cost.

Author Note: Oooo things are heating up. It seems Triton and Zeus have opposite plans for the reader and that could spell trouble. Hehehe. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I am immensely thankful for all the support that got shown on my prologue chapter of this series. Please contunie to give your support and tell me your opinions about my work. It really does help as it shows what I can improve on in future chapters and works. Till next time 💕💕

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok #snv #snv poseidon #snv poseidon x reader #bivalve

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granolabird · 3 years

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The Weight of Reality

Post 2x08. Sorry guys, there isn’t really a way to fluff this one out. It’s gotta be angsty. Beth finds out about Rick being put in jail, and immidiately calls him. Needless to say, he’s not doing well. Written while listening to Giants by Imagine Dragons on loop bc that’s such a Rick-centric song.

Warings: One single F bomb. And a lot of sad teenagers. That is all.

Tags: @hournites @bethchapelsbonnet

If you’d like to be added to my weekly Hournite fic taglist feel free to ask :)

Beth is sitting at her desk doing research when she gets the call. It’s ten at night, and fireworks still light the sky outside her house. She’s always hated the fourth of July. Too much noise and partying. Beth was a fan of neither of those things. This fourth of July felt different though. It felt too quiet, what with all the Eclipso business. She was almost thankful for the bright colourful bursts of light outside her window, reassuring she was still in the real world. She was still here. Eclipso couldn’t get to her as long as she had the goggles on.

Her first instinct after the whole Eclipso business had been to phone Rick. He hadn’t responded, which was nothing out of the ordinary. She chalked it up to the bad service at his farm, as that was his usual excuse. When Beth called Courtney and she didn’t respond was when Beth began to worry. Courtney spent all her free time on her phone. She always answered. She was decidedly not answering. Then Beth tried Pat, who she only really called during emergencies, to the same result. She left them all messages of varying concern, telling them about how she really needed to talk, and she had more information on Eclipso. Perhaps the Whitmore-Dugan family were out having a fourth of July celebration. That made sense. That was the option Beth went with.

So that’s how Beth got here. Googling her life away, looking at shady PDF documents on possible origins of Eclipso, and on the original JSA. She didn’t have much but it was something to keep her brain occupied. She’s skimming an article about The Flash and everything that’s known about him when her phone rings.

It’s Pat.

She almost takes her goggles off before picking it up instinctively, but she corrects herself and leaves them on as she answers the phone. There's a moment of silence on the other side of the line before Pat speaks.

“Beth?”

“Pat! Thank goodness, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you-”

“Beth, I need to tell you something.” There’s a serious tone to his voice. It reminds Beth of the time the hospital called to tell her family that her grandfather was deathly ill. It’s a tone of voice laced with pity, and she hates it. After everything she’s dealt with tonight pity is the last thing she feels like dealing with.

“What’s wrong?”

She keeps her thoughts to herself, instead focusing on figuring out what Pat has to say. There’s more silence on the other end of the line. She can hear what sounds like Courtney crying in the background. She hears Pat take a steadying breath.

“Pat? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Rick.”

Beth’s entire body drops. She feels it. She feels herself crumple. The feeling of dread she thought she’d destroyed when she fought off Eclipso returns instantly, making her feel sick. Rick.

Something’s happened to Rick.

“Is he…”

“He’s okay, Beth. But he’s in Jail.”

“What?”

“Eclipso got to him. Made him think Matt was Grundy. Rick attacked him, and almost killed him. The police took Rick in. Court and I are at the station now, we’re trying to get it figured out.”

“No.” She can barely hear herself speak.

“Beth I’m so sorry”

“What about the hourglass? Can’t he use that to break out of jail or something?” Beth is scrambling for an answer, a way to help Rick.

“You know he wouldn’t do that Beth, even if he could.”

“If he could?”

“He smashed the Hourglass.”

Beth doesn’t know when she started crying, hot tears flowing down her face. She finally got somewhere with her parents and now this. Now this.

“Beth? Are you okay?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry Pat I just… I need a minute to process.”

“It’s okay Beth. I can call you back later if you want. Then we can talk about what you wanted to tell us?”

Beth wants to say no, that she has to tell them about Eclipso and her immunity to him with the goggles right now but she can’t. She physically cannot. Every time she opens her mouth it feels like fire is creeping up from her lungs. She can barely breathe.

“Yeah.”

Is all she can force out.

She’s shaking as Pat hangs up, staring at her cracked phone screen. The photo of her and the rest of her friends smiling split by the nasty lightning-bolt shatters on the glass screen. Broken. She looks at Rick in the photo, his arm slung around her leisurely as he laughs at a joke Mike said before taking the picture. She wants nothing more than to be back with him at that moment. Things seemed so much easier then.

“I’m sorry Rick. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you.” She murmurs, pressing her forehead to the top of her phone screen.

The phone, of course, provides no response.

She stares at the screen a while longer before she gets an idea, frantically searching up the number of the police station. She’s not sure it’ll work. She’s not well versed in the etiquette of phoning the police station to talk to a newly-arrested teen but it won’t hurt to try, right?

She hesitates for a moment, her finger hovering over the phone number. She takes a deep breath before she presses it, and then hits the call button.

Ringing

And then

“Blue Valley Police Department, how can I help you?” A deep male voice answers the phone.

“Hi! Sorry, I don’t know if this is the right number to call, or what I’m supposed to be doing here really.” She’s speaking quickly, words blending together in her panic. She takes another deep breath and then continues.

“You have someone I know in detainment? A Rick Tyler? Or maybe he’s under Rick Harris, but that’s not really his name.” She cringes at that statement, but the officer, whoever they are, should call Rick by his real name. He deserves at least that.

“Right. So why exactly are you calling?”

“Oh! Sorry, I’d like to talk to him if that’s possible? I know he’s just gotten there but I’m.. Well I’m his closest friend. I just really need to talk to him.”

“Listen kid, we already have people here trying to figure out what to do with him-”

“Pat and Courtney. They know me, they’d want me to talk to him too. Please. I really need to talk to him. Even if it’s only for a little while. Please.”

A deep sigh on the other end of the line.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for young romance. He’s in a detention cell right now. I’ll see what I can do.”

Beth’s mind catches on to the words young romance. She wants to correct the officer and tell her there is no romance, but she doesn’t. Because that would be a lie. There was something. A spark. One that may never turn into anything if Rick gets sent off to a juvenile detention centre somewhere halfway across the country.

“Thank you so much.” Beth breathes, realizing she hadn’t said anything in response.

The officer only grunts, and then she hears the sound of the phone being placed on the table, and footsteps walking away.

It seems like hours before she hears more footsteps, hurried, almost panicked. She hears a vague

“You have to be quick. I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

No response, only a swoosh of air as the phone is lifted up and then

“Beth?” Rick’s voice is shaking.

Beth has never heard him so genuinely scared. He sounds terrified, and so deeply sad. He sounds broken.

“Rick. Rick, I’m here, what happened?”

“Beth.” He repeats her name, and then she hears him sob.

It’s a guttural noise as he gasps for air, and Beth wishes she could reach through the line to hug him. She wants to be there with him more than anything.

“Rick, it'll be okay.”

“It won’t. I’ve fucked it all up Beth. We can’t fix this one.” He sounds so defeated.

“We can try. I’m not going to stop trying. This isn’t your fault. We’re going to get you out of this.” “This is my fault. This is entirely my fault. It was bound to happen one day, and now it did. Even Matt knew it, I was destined for the cells. That’s my future.” He’s not even listening to what she’s saying, just rambling to himself at this point.

“Rick-”

“You deserve better than me Beth. You, and the whole team. I’ve been nothing but a dead weight. You’ll be better off without me.”

“RICK.” Beth half-shouts into her phone, tears still burning molten streams down her cheeks.

She hears Rick inhale sharply on the other end of the line. He’s surprised. Good, at least that’ll get him out of his own mind.

“I’m not leaving you and that’s final. Nobody is. You may not think it, but we care about you. A lot. We’re going to get you out of this.”

Another sob on Rick’s end, and she can hear his heavy breathing as he tries, and fails, to regain his composure.

“I’m sorry. Beth, oh my god I'm so sorry.” She wishes Rick didn’t sound so terrified.

She wishes there was some way she could reverse time and be there to help him. To make everything better.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not. Eclipso made you do it. Please, please don’t blame yourself. Please don’t.” She’s pleading, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“I… Beth I…” He’s at a loss for words.

She hears the deep voice of the Officer in the background. Shuffling. “I’ve gotta go Beth.” His voice is strained. “Ok. I’ll see you as soon as I can.” Beth offers, hoping it’ll provide him some reassurance.

“Right.”

A deep breath on his end, and then more shuffling and voices. “Beth I.. I lo… I…” He’s really trying to say something, his words choked as he struggles to spit them out.

Before he can finish his sentence there’s more footsteps and the phone clatters down. A few more seconds of shouts and shuffling before the line cuts out, and Beth is left alone again.

She’s almost certain she knows what he was going to say in that last sentence but she can’t bring herself to think too much about it. It’ll be something to talk about once they get Rick out. They have to get him out. With a sigh Beth returns to staring at her shattered phone screen, still crying. She stares at Rick’s smiling face, and tries to smile back at him. She just wants to be with him. She just wants it all to be okay. She’ll just have to keep telling herself it’ll all be okay. Then, maybe one day it will be.

It has to be.

#This hurt me to write #But it is what it is #Stargirl #Stargirl Spoilers #Hournite #Beth Chapel #Rick Tyler #beth x rick #hourman #dr. mid nite #pat dugan #Angst #Just a lot of angst

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

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Coming Home - River and Luke

CW: inexperienced caretaker, vampirism, blood, implied past abuse, self-blame, police mention

[Other thing]

River placed him on the couch as softly as possible, but could still see the shift in his breathing. They stood back, trying to give him some space and put their head back on straight.

They didn’t know what on earth they were supposed to do.

Every fiber of them screamed to called the police, but they just couldn’t. How were they supposed to explain what happened. They shook their head, trying to imagine that conversation.

“Yes officer, I was just buying my regular blood supply from a random man when I heard someone crying in the closet. So of course I broke the man’s wrist and kidnapped them. Oh yeah, and I’m a vampire.”

They sighed pushing back their dark coiled hair from their forehead. Yeah, that would go over great. The boy shivered, and they pulled themself back to the present. He needed help, but they didn’t know what to do.

In a moment blankness, they opened their laptop and frantically searched first aid steps. A few result popped up immediately, and they started to go through them.

1. Recognize the emergency. Does someone look like they’re in trouble? If so, ask them, “Are you OK?”

River whined confusedly and looked back up to the figure on the couch. They opened their mouth, nothing but a little squeak coming out. He was barely conscious, bleeding, trembling and scared out of his mind. It looked like an emergency to them.

“Are you okay?” they asked, voice cracking with nerves. He didn’t respond. Their face flushed with embarrassment. Of course he couldn’t answer. They took a deep breath and looked at the next step.

2. Call emergency services if necessary.

Their green eyes slid past that one. That needed to be the last resort.

3. Assess the situation. How do they need help?

Slowly, River put down the laptop and ventured closer to the young man. He was pale, shallow breaths slowly puffing out of his chest. There were some cuts across his face, and even River could tell they weren’t clean. His hair was dirty and greasy, unkept around his head. His skin was dirty, too. River reached a hand out, then drew it back. He was still conscious, barely, and they didn’t want to scare him.

“I’m sorry. I, I have to touch you to see what I can do. I’m sorry – I’m sorry.”

They tried again, lifting up the ragged t-shirt he was wearing. He whimpered and tried to roll away, making River jump back.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

He didn’t respond again, and even with the small peak River could tell he needed more help. There were ginormous bruises on the crooks of both elbows, more on his chest it seemed like. Slowly as they could, the started to lift the shirt again, and this time it seemed like he was too weak to fight them.

They tried to keep their emotions locked away, but they couldn’t help but sniff. He was covered in bruises and cuts, every single rib visible to their eyes. He was still breathing very shallowly, eyes fluttered closed.

River dropped the shirt and wandered back to their computer.

4. Administer basic first aid if necessary

They nodded. They could do that. They had a first aid kit – somewhere.

“I’ll be right back,” they said, walking backwards out of the room. They bolted to the bathroom, tearing under the sink apart. They were sure their mom had given them one when they first moved it. It was kinda old, but at least it would still have band aids and gauze and stuff like that.

Finally getting their fingers on the old blue plastic box, they stood. They looked up, still a little confused to not see their own reflection. They were still new to this; to all of this. The accident had only been about a month or two ago, and even though they knew, it was still kinda hard to accept.

A thought hit them and they almost dropped the box. They had been ordering from Arthur since the accident. They were too scared to try and hunt, they never wanted to hurt someone else. But they had. They had hurt someone else; and now he was lying on their couch. River did this to him. Not with their own fists, but they had paid someone else to do it which was just as bad.

Tears dripped down their eyes as they made their way back to the living room. They had always cried at the drop of a hat, but this one was bad. It was a horrible guilt that soured their stomach and clamped around their heart. They wanted to help, they wanted to make things better but they just didn’t know what to do.

After reading the back of the cleaning wipes, they ripped the packet open and started to clean the small cuts on his face. He reacted a bit, flinching, but not pulling away from them. They went slowly, trying to talk to him as they went. They ended up talking about their neighbor’s new dog. It was very fluffy and friendly, and River hoped it would be a nice distraction for him.

They finished up on his face and applied the bandages – little pastel ones with stars – and moved onto his neck. The sight of the IV wound stirred something in them. They assumed it was disgust. They cleaned the site best they could, blinking tears down their face as they saw the fang marks, too. When they pulled the cloth away, it was dirtied and red.

They stopped, staring at it. It was light in their hand, as light as any single use wipe could be, yet they couldn’t pull their eyes away from it. They were staring at it, entranced by it.

It wasn’t disgust they felt; it was hunger.

River screamed and dropped it, falling backwards to crawl away. No, no nonono! They didn’t, they never, no! They hid behind the armchair, trying to calm their breathing. They hadn’t been around fresh blood since they were turned, opting to buy it. They didn’t know it was going to be this strong.

The young man whimpered, drawing their attention back to him. Right, him. Shakely, the left their defensive spot and crept back over. They ignored the wipe of the floor (it was easier now that it had touched the ground).

Feeling a bit silly but also rather ingenious, they used a pair of disposable earplugs to plug their nose before continuing. It helped dull the scent so they could patch him up. He didn’t seem like he was doing any better, just covered in band aids. River whimpered and went back to their laptop.

How to help with blood loss

They scanned the results, clicking through some of the links. Water? Iron? Vitamin C? River paused. Vitamin C, orange juice. They had orange juice! They stood grabbing a plastic cup from the kitchen and filling a few inches with orange juice.

They helped the young man sit up, cupping the back of his head to help in drink. He was still conscious enough, able to drink the liquid easily.

“Hey, there you go,” River tried, brushing back his hair again. He shivered, and looked up at them for the first time. He had dark brown eyes, scared and tired. They tried to smile, but they knew their guilt was written all over their face.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

He closed his eyes and took another breath, seemingly falling asleep.

River put the cup in the sink and stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure what to do now.

tag tag tag tag @unicornscotty @lave-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @dollophead-merlin @starnight-whump @thehopelessopus @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpzone @divia237 @whole-and-apart-and-between

#whump #vampire whump #inexperienced caretaker #blood tw #self blame tw #river #luke #he's not named yet but eh #i know it's not super whumpy it's just kinda some set up #but i already have some other peices in mind!#some with luke before and some with River!#police mention #damn i am slacking on tags i need to get on that

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hedgiwithapen · 3 years

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How about the Leverage Crew arriving in Central City in time for the that time Barry got accused of murdering DeVoe. Basically, Leverage Crew (Classic or Redeption is your choice) meddling in that plan. Because screw DeVoe. Can be in the same universe as The Central City job, or a brand new AU; your choice.

this one Long The courthouse was packed when a sleek black van pulled up to a loading zone. Nathan Ford turned from the passenger seat. “You all know the play?” “Mm, yup,” Parker said, clipping a badge to her blazer pocket. “The Boston skip.” “It’s not the Boston Skip,” Hardison snapped, fussing with his tie.. “You’re just grumpy because you have to play the lawyer again.” Eliot smirked. “Hey, you said only if it comes to a cross examine, I did my job, if you all do your jobs right and it doesn’t come to that,” Hardison’s voice pitched upwards. “If?” Sophie put on the emergency break. “If? Hardison, I’m hurt.” “Soph,” Nate sighed. “Let it go.” “For now. We’re having words later,” Sophie insisted. “Can we just get this over with?” Eliot asked, maneuvering to take the driver’s seat. “ you know I don’t like us splitting up like this.” “It’ll only be for a bit,” Parker said, squeezing his hand. “ We’ll be fine.” They left the van in twos, first Parker and hardison, briefcase and extraneous computer in hand, and a minute or two later Sophie and Nate followed-- and Nate with a plain folder tucked under his arm. Eliot drove in the direction of the police station, ready for the next phase of the plan. They hadn’t exactly called ahead, but that wasn’t going to be much of a problem. Cisco Ramon was the first to spot them. He goggled a bit. “What are you doing here?” he asked as Hardison approached the bench where Team Flash had congregated. Hardison smiled, knowing the prosecutor was watching. “I came to offer my services,” he said, sending a quick text with a thought. “ Where is Ms Horton?” “Here,” the short woman said, her eyes cutting between the two as Cisco checked his phone. “ Who are you? Cisco, who is--” Cisco looked up from the message--you didn’t see us coming?-- and relaxed slightly for the first time in weeks. “I’m part of Mr. Allen’s legal team,” Hardison smiled wide. “He’s ok, Cecile,” Cisco vouched. “ He and his, uh, coworkers have helped us in the past. With Z--wait, that was before you. Um.” “My firm helped get Henry Allen some money, after that unfortunate mess. And we’re here to see justice through again.” He hesitated. “ Or pick up where it leaves off,” he said under his breath. Cecile took in a sharp breath. “When did we hire you?” “Uh--” “Cecile, it’s really ok,” Caitlin joined the cluster. “They know about STAR. And apparently about the recent… developments.” “You think we don’t keep tabs on your crazy city? Now, Ms. Horton, as your co-lawyer, we need to discuss strategy. I’ve got some character witnesses I’d like to introduce, some crucial evidence that needs to be submitted, is there an office we might use?” He steered her away, nodding to Parker, deep in conversation with the prosecutor.

“You let that jerk stick around?” Iris jumped when she heard the voice in her ear. Turning she sighed with recognition. “ Lilli--Sophie?” “In the flesh.” She smiled. “I can’t stay long, but Eliot wanted me to ask.” Iris sighed. “If it’s Eliot asking, I guess you mean Harry. He’s been a lot better since Eliot kicked his ass, that’s for sure. And he has been helpful.” “I’m sure,” Sophie sounded anything but sure. “Listen, we’ve got this pretty well handled, but you and your friends may wish to be ready in case of reprisals. Have you upgraded security lately?” “Cisco’s worked on it,” Iris confirmed. “Good. Hardison would love to take a look, later. We’re probably going to be in the area, we’ve had word something’s fishy at that prison of yours.” When Iris opened her mouth Sophie shook her head. “Iron Heights. Point is, we’ll be around should you need anything.” “Thank you for the offer,” Iris said. She shook her head. “ These people are smart, Sophie. Dangerous.” “Not compared to my team,” Sophie smiled. “Save your worry. Look, see? Hardison’s in place, and Parker’s in the wings. I’ve got to go take care of my part. If you see your husband, let him know, will you?” “I-- sure,” Iris said, and she watched as Sophie stood and walked into a crowd. An entirely different person made her way past a bailiff and into the Juror’s box, leaning over to the man beside her and nodding in the direction of the door Barry Allen had just been escorted through. As Iris stood to take his hand across the gap between his seat and the benches, Sophie gave a little nod to the two of them. “It is strange,” the man said. “But I don’t think we’re meant to discuss the case until we’re in the back.” “Of course not,” Sophie said. “I was just thinking about it, is all. If it were a scene in a mystery novel, I’d call it too obvious.” “You do have a point,” the man agreed. “I’m actually a novelist myself.” “You don’t say,” Sophie smiled. “Classic red herring, am I right? And what a story. Two men in the same family accused of nearly identical murders…” She tapped her com, giving a quick signal. Nate was up. “Ah, a quick word?” Nate stepped away from the wall, flagging down Mrs. DeVoe and her companion. “No,” she snapped, putting on what Nate could see was a reasonably convincing mask of Grieving Widow. Convincing to a mark, maybe. But the Mako was right--you can’t con a conman. “Vultures, all of you.” “Oh, I’m not a reporter.” Nate said easily. He nodded to the tall man at Marlize’s Elbow. “Mr. DeVoe, I’m sure you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He was pleased to see shock cross the face of Dominic Lanse. The man grabbed him by the arm, yanking him into an empty room. Mrs. DeVoe followed, locking it behind her. “Just so you are aware, there is video footage of you dragging me in here,” Nate said in his most helpful voice. “In case you decide to kill me here, probably not your smartest move.” he glanced around. “Private, though. Good.” He gave his signature infuriating grin. “Make this quick,” Clifford said in Dominic’s voice. “Court begins soon.” “Right, well, that’s going to be your problem.” Nate shrugged. “ Let’s skip the pleasantries. I know everything, about your plan at least. Your computer banks! Normal people couldn’t even find them, so you’ve got that going for you, though the security is lacking once you get past that, so B+. I am not Normal People. I have the best hacker in the multiverse, though, so,” he clicked his tongue in mock dismay, “like I said, my team and I --I’m sure you’re trying to think of who we are right now--know everything.” Marlize glanced at her silent watch, frowning. “Oh, no, no, I’m not a meta.” Nate shook his head. “But the thing is, I don’t have to be to destroy you.” “What--” “Again. I know everything, Thinker. Your basement prison, your hidden files, what you want with that satellite… you really shouldn’t have written everything down… twice even.” He fished a small book out of his pocket, and let them see the plain cover. Clifford’s eyes darkened. “That’s mine.” “Yeah, well, I also have the

multiverse’s greatest thief.” “Our home is under police protection and surveillance. There are officers--” “There right now, I’m aware.” Eliot Spencer, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand, flashed a badge at the pair of officers standing by a door. “Any trouble?” “Nope. She just left for the courthouse. Some work, huh? Just standing here.” “Hmm.“ Eliot agreed. “Though I guess if something did happen, the Flash would swoop in.” “Nine times out of ten,” the first officer agreed. “Or one of his buddies. “ “Maybe 8 times,” the second officer shrugged. “ You new?” “Just transferred from Keystone.” Eliot said. “Not so much nonsense there.” “I hear that. Good to have the backup though.” Eliot nodded. “ You do a walk through?” “Uh, no…. Like I said, no trouble, officer-- “Ted Crichton,” Eliot interrupted. “You haven’t walked through? What if someone’s in there, waiting to assault Mrs. DeVoe when she gets back?” “Well, uh, we don’t have a warrant--” “For crying out loud--” Eliot pulled a paper from his pocket. “See? Now let's go. You stay out here. Who has the back-- does no one have the back door? “ The officers hurried inside. “Don’t forget to check the closets,” Eliot called. -- “ Like I said. Best thief. Best hacker. Now, honestly--and you can run the numbers-- your best bet would be to cut your losses right here, right now. You’re already lying on the stand, so say you were coerced into implicating Mr. Allen--if you need someone to blame I do have a list of patsys that really need the jail time. You do that, put your little plan,” he waggled the book “ back in the box or write it up as the next dystopian best seller for High School English classes to dissect for decades to come, and you can walk away from this.” A laugh. “No one will believe anything you say. That book can’t be traced to me, and even if it could be, it doesn’t prove anything. So someone thinks I’m a supervillain. I’m dead. You have nothing that proves Mr. Allen innocent. You’re out of your mind, Mr. Ford.” “Oh good, you know who I am. Think a little harder.” “As threats go, it’s half baked,” Marlize challenged. “What are you going to do if we refuse? Break Allen out of jail so he can be a fugitive? He’d never go along with it. And the Flash can’t stop us.” “I’d run those numbers again, you’ve left out quite a few variables. But no.” “No?” “If you refuse, if you keep up your little game, lie on the stand, sell that sob story, maybe you're right and the Flash can’t stop you. But he doesn’t need to. I’ll destroy you.” “You.” It was not a question. “For someone claiming to be the smartest man in the world, I’m a bit worried about your memory. I said it already--I’m not here alone. But be my guest. Tell your lies. Right about now the Jury is thinking about what an embarrassment to the city Henry Allen’s trial was and how closely this resembles it… the similarities, the way the timelines don’t quite match up… “ “Really? You’re trying to convince the jury to ignore evidence and go with their hearts? A pathos appeal? That’s not going to work. There’s less than a 3% chance of that even ending in a mistrial, much less acquittal.” “I’m sure that’s what your numbers said,” Nate smiled yet again, this time sharklike. “Cute. I bet you think it’s difficult to get assigned jury duty. “ “It-- we checked all the names. We know--” “You know who they are, yes, yes. But you don’t know who we are. Another sloppy mistake. Now, the jury’s, you're right, not a total slam dunk. So, right now the prosecutor is getting word of some new evidence from a very well respected FBI agent about how helpful the Flash and Mr Allen have both been in assisting with a case against a known human trafficker--you know her, Ammunet Black. The one you bought your puppet from. FBI picked her up…mmm, ten minutes ago? And she had some very interesting things to say. You can guess what they were. Add to that the evidence--” “What evidence?” “The wire transfers between you and Ms. Black. In December and a few days ago. We didn’t even have to fake that first one, but even if the second

one looks a little fishy, the fact that--” “Nate, we got him,” crackled Eliot’s voice in his ear. “--the police just found a metahuman locked in your hall closet--Weeper, I think is what Ms. Black called him-- should make things clear. He wasn’t thrilled about having to stick around much longer but your basement is pretty hard for normal people to find so we had to nudge that a bit. But hey, you’re all for planting evidence. Anyways, court’s in ten minutes…. but the police will be arresting you in about three, if my math’s right-- care to check?-- so I can make this very quick. We have video of you threatening the Flash, holding him prisoner the same night as that wire transfer, proof of Dominic’s powers and sale--my hacker thanks you for all those cameras and bugs, by the way, made his job much easier-- and you add that all up and it sure looks like you got upset at the Flash and Allen for poking into your meta trafficking and decided a frame up was in order.” Nate hefted the folder, “and then there’s this.” “And what,” Marlize asked, shaking with rage, “ is that?” “A copy of files that will be delivered to the FBI, NSA and Dean of Husdson University if you don’t admit to the frame up.” Nate said, thumbing through them. “Proof that you, Mrs. DeVoe, fed information to certain entities across Africa and the Middle East where you were doing your research and aid work to assist in their terror attacks and human trafficking--ties in quite nicely to your work with Ammunet, if I do say so myself. And proof that the “late” Mr. DeVoe plagiarized his thesis, his dissertation, even the syllabi for his classes.” “Lies. No one will believe any of--” “Oh, it’s all very well forged. Except for the bit about the Syllabi. For shame.” Nate tutted. “And part of the dissertation. Can they take away a PH.d posthumously? Anyways, even if it wasn’t, do you really think that no one would believe a man who thinks that giving everyone on the planet late stage Alzheimer’s is going to solve famine and illness? What kind of legitimate history teacher doesn’t know about cholera or the effects of the agricultural revolution? Every lie has a kernel of truth to it.” Nate glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, that certainly was enlightening. And before you decide to simply kill me, run your little calculations with one more variable: Eliot Spencer.” DeVoe’s brow furrowed and what little color he had drained from his face. “ That’s what I thought. Three.. Two.. one.” Nate raised his voice. “ Help! I’m in here!” The door crashed from its hinges. “The Gloat is the best part,” Parker, FBI badge swinging, put an arm over Barry’s shoulders. He stood with Iris next to her and Eliot as the DeVoes were hauled away. “You know, I think I might have to agree,” Iris said, squeezing Barry’s hand. “Or second best, at least,” she added meaningfully. “So… what now?” Joe asked. “I mean, there’s still… the red tape, but… do we need to be worried? Don’t they still have--” “Oh, that sick chair and computer set up?” Hardison asked with a smirk. “I want it.” Harry announced. “When did you get here?” Hardison asked, affronted. -- Parker held up her badge as she pushed the crate up a ramp into Lucille. “Special Agent Hagen! Let me help you with that,” Agent McSweeten said, taking the dolley handle from her. Parker beamed, patting the side, careful not to dislodge the panel on the side. “Thanks!” -- “Anyways, you can’t just call dibs. You’re too late,” Hardison added, giving Parker a fistbump. “We stole it.”

#dammit hedgi day 2021 #leverage #the central city job #the flash

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Official Accounts Part 20- Rescue

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning for canon-typical violence, major character injury, and manga spoilers

Masterlist

No one had come rushing down the stairs after Dabi had alerted you a guest had arrived. Nor had Dabi felt inclined to go check who it was, much to your chagrin. “Hmm, seems our little guest is shy. Shall we call whoever they are down?” Dabi asks. You don’t dignify his question with a response and choose only to glare at him. He saunters up to you, placing a warm hand on your waist, but soon warm becomes hot and then hot becomes burning. Literally. You grit your teeth for as long as possible, not wanting to give the deranged man in front of you the satisfaction, but eventually the pain grows too intense and you can’t help but cry out.

Hawks flinches at the sound of you crying out. His heart wants him to rush in there but his head knows better. Hawks is a smart, calculating man. He knows that Dabi is intending to get a rise out of him. He knows that in a one-on-one fight between him and Dabi, the other man has the advantage. He knows that back up is on the way. The kind of back up that will make this a quick and easy job. He knows all this. His commission approved, highly tuned instincts know this. A small, unhelpful voice in the back of his head reminded him that the last time he chose his brain over his heart in regards to you it had cost him your affections. Is that why every single cell in his body is telling him to go in anyway? No. Hawks would wait. Because it was the rational and logical option. It was the option that was least likely to get both of you killed. He could wait the 10-15 minutes max it would take for one of the others to get there. But then you cried out again, and without him consciously deciding to, Hawks was speeding to your location as if his body was moving of its own accord.

The minute he had eyes on Dabi, Hawks lunged forward and slashed at the other man, aiming for the seams between his healthy and scarred skin. He manages a couple hits but Dabi had been anticipating the winged hero so he quickly moved away from you and out of the way. “Ohh I was hoping it’d be you that showed up!” Dabi laughs. “You should’ve left her out of this,” Hawks growls back. His instincts were on fire in a way they’d never been before. Not the refined instincts of the HPSC, drilled into his head since childhood. No these were more primal, more feral, than that. “We both know this isn’t a good match up for you Hawks. What could possibly have driven you to come charging in like this, hm?” Dabi taunts as he unleashes his blue flames in Hawks’ direction. Hawks rolled away as quickly as he could but still winces as he feels some of his feathers get caught in the blaze. “You gonna talk or we gonna fight?” Hawks snarks back before once again diving in to try and close the distance between he and his adversary.

Dabi had chosen his location well. The confined room severely restricted Hawks’ mobility, further disadvantaging him in a fight already not tipped in his favor. To compensate he sent several feathers out to increase the amount of areas Dabi would have to defend. If he had to take the villain down with a thousand tiny cuts instead of a dramatic final slash he would. But Dabi is smart too and so he picked and chose which feathers to ward off and which to let land. As much as Hawks was hanging in there he was literally burning through feathers at an alarming rate and no matter how much he tried to dodge, the tightness of the room pretty much guaranteed he’d take at least a little heat. This was bad. It was really bad. But he couldn’t stop now. So he pressed on and hoped back up would arrive soon.

Your heart had constricted painfully in your chest when you saw Hawks come flying down the stairs. You knew this was not a fight he would likely win. Not alone. Which is why you wasted no time taking advantage of Dabi’s focus being entirely on the winged hero instead of you. Your eyes turned to the chain and handcuffs confining you and you took a deep breath to steady your hands before getting to work. You carefully grab hold of the chain and start pressing it past the raw skin of your wrists to get inside one of the cuffs until you can loop it over your hand. Then, slowly but surely, you’re able to pull it through until you free the handcuffs from the ceiling chain. You immediately begin working the chain connecting the cuffs, trying to line up the links just right to get the tension you need to break them apart. “C’mon, c’mon,” you groan in frustration as your eyes dart between the cuffs and the ongoing fight.

It’s going as poorly as you knew it would. Granted, Hawks is certainly giving a valiant effort. Dabi is cut and bleeding in several places. A few of the staples on his arms and face are even detached. But there is no questioning who is leading. Hawks could barely fly in the confines of the room anyway but now even if he had the space he wouldn’t have the feathers to do so. He’s breathing heavy and there’s already large angry patches of red skin from the burns he’s received. He can’t afford to throw away any more feathers by sending them at Dabi from all angles so the most he can do is duck and weave Dabi’s flames as much as possible to try and get in close and get in an incapacitating hit. Then you see the determined look in his eye, despite the fact he’s fighting a losing battle, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. It’s like watching your mother’s last moments all over again. One lone hero against a force they clearly can’t beat and yet so, so determined to press on. At least back then the tv screen had put distance between you and the struggle. Now you were watching a hero fall in real time.

You watch in horror as Dabi finally gets the hit he was waiting for and Hawks goes careening to the side. You continue to fumble with the cuffs, the tension constantly falling away just before it can break the chain keeping you from helping Hawks. Dabi laughs and it’s a cruel sound as Hawks has no choice but to curl up and cover his head and vital organs from the raging blue flames. Tears are flowing down your face and your vision blurs as you watch Dabi slowly approach the fallen hero before kicking him in the stomach once, twice, three times. The links of the handcuffs catch and once again you begin to bend them in hopes this time the tension will finally break them apart. “What will be left of you if I clip your wings?” Dabi cackles as he reaches for what little is left of the appendages in question. But before he can do anything the cuffs finally snap. Your quirk comes roaring back to the surface and no sooner do you feel it swell within you are you directing every ounce of it at Dabi, your eyes glowing with the power of it. Dabi slams into the back wall and you surge forward to put yourself between him and Hawks, who looks on the verge of passing out. “Well, well, well. He wasn’t kidding when he said your quirk was strong. This makes things interesting,” Dabi smirks as he slowly gets back to his feet. “Really? Because I’m already bored of you,” you fire back before surging forward and wielding your quirk with a ferocity you never had before.

You’re not a trained hero. Technically what you’re doing is illegal, considering you don’t have any kind of hero’s license. None of that matters in this moment though. What Dabi had on you in experience, you compensated for with agility. It isn’t enough to get you a win but it can buy you time as you pray more help is on the way. Your ribs are aching, you’ve acquired several severe burns, and you’re starting to slow down but still you push and for the first time you think you understand why your mother made the choice she did. Suddenly a familiar voice echoes through the room. “DIE!” Bakugo screams as he comes crashing in, tackling Dabi in one explosive move. You don’t stop to see the result, your faith fully in your friend as you rush to where Hawks is lying unconscious on the ground. You wrap one of his arms around your shoulders and do your best to stand, half walking half dragging him out of the room. You don’t look back until you’ve managed to get him outside of the building but even still you can hear the sound of Dabi and Bakugo’s fight.

“Hawks? Hawks! C’mon I need you to wake up. I need you to wake up for me,” you plead as you lay him down on the concrete, kneeling beside him. You pat his face repeatedly until finally you get his eyes to flutter open. “Oh thank god! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Jesus Hawks!” you sigh, already cataloging his various injuries to report to emergency services. “Keigo.” “What?” “My real name. It’s Keigo. You... you can’t use it where someone might hear but you can use it.” His voice sounds so weak you could cry again. “Your eyes are glowing. ‘S beautiful,” he chuckles, reaching a hand up to cup your face before passing back out. “It’s gonna be ok Keigo,” you reply in a hushed voice, although you doubt he hears you. It’s not too long after that you hear the familiar rumble of Chargebolt’s motorcycle as he races to the location, Mirko arriving shortly thereafter. “They’re inside! Hawks needs urgent medical attention,” you tell them before they can ask. Mirko gives a curt nod and rushes into the building, following the sounds of the fight. Chargebolt hesitates as his eyes scan over your various injuries, the tear tracks still evident on your face from when you’d been crying earlier. “I’m fine, Denki. I promise. Just toss me your phone so I can call an ambulance and the cops. Dabi stole mine,” you assure him. He nods and does exactly that before racing in to help Mirko and Bakugo. As you dial the emergency services number your gaze returns to the number two hero. Almost all of his feathers have been burned away, leaving just the nubs of his wings and the immobile feathers at their base. Laying on his back the way he is, someone who didn’t know who he was wouldn’t be able to tell he’s supposed to have wings at all. Your heart aches as you can’t help but think how small he looks without them.

Author’s Note: I wanna give a big shout out to @dutchintheusa on tiktok who is the one I got the hack about escaping hand cuffs chained to the ceiling from that (y/n) uses here and how to escape handcuffs without a Bobby pin. He’s got a bunch of emergency/survival escape techniques as well as general advice to stay safe in a scary world. I would highly recommend checking him out. The fight is heavily inspired by the fight between Hawks and Dabi in the manga and the fact I have repeatedly wished I could insert myself into that room and protect Hawks (hence the spoiler tag). Also I listened to Tantrum by Ashnikko on repeat while writing this if you want an idea of the ~vibe~ of the fighting lmao.

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @main-ruthyruth

#wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks #hawks x y/n #hopelessoa

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just-an-adventurer · 3 years

Text

@sweaterangst Wait I just mentally processed your tags and now I have feelings again-

That would be so amazing for John to experience: An Angel! Lifting him up high into the sky so that he can look upon the earth below him!

Ok, this was supposed to be a tiny cute lil headcanon of our favorite monsignor flying with the Angel, but it had a mind of its own and I got carried away. I think you'll still like this... Whatever this is... I hope? 😅

Also tagging @monsignorpruitt and @yanderebeat because y'all are in midnight mass hell with me too

Under his wings you will find refuge...

It was a leap of faith. The first time the Angel took him on a flight was the night after he reawakened. He had taken his first steps out from the ruins, slim legs strong and footsteps agile and spry with new life. He crested the steep dune, and felt a small dismay at what he saw. When he was still a withered, disoriented old man, he had wandered far, far from Jerusalem, and indeed from any civilization. John could not see any structure, any hint of civilization anywhere in sight; just endless waves of sand.

A sudden, powerful gust of wind sent sand skittering against his back and pushed John's hair - now hanging in rich black curls - into his face. Bringing a hand to clear his vision, he turned, only for his jaw to drop in awe. The Angel had emerged from the crypt, magnificent wings folding again as it landed next to him.

John marvelled at it for a heartbeat, seeing it in all its glory for the first time by the light of the full moon. However, he was a pious man, and wasted no time in prostrating himself before it, the Angel of the Lord that had brought mercy upon him after providence had guided his weary steps to its resting place.

John surprised himself when he spoke, his voice coming out loud and clear. "Oh Angel of the Lord, neither word nor prayer can express the depth of my gratitude to thee, thee who has acted in the service of the Lord and granted me mercy and life anew." He looked up through his eyelashes at the Angel. A slight movement, a slight opening of its posture and a shuffle of wings was its only response. John took it as a good sign. He was not afraid of it - no, he was far past that point now. He understood now. The Angel had drank the fear from him, leaving him with the only message he needed: be not afraid. God had sent one of His Angels to save him for a reason. It had granted him life anew, and if it could give him that gift, then surely he could spread this miracle, return to his parish and help the flock he had wandered so far away from. Maybe he can begin again. Maybe, just maybe, if he does everything right this time, he can begin again with her.

But he had to get to her first. Clearing his throat, he started again. "I know not the workings of His plan, but I am His servant. As a messenger of His will, I too am in service to you. I come from a parish in need of aid, and I can bring you back to them, to heal them. But I must find a means to return. Could you show me the way?" John waited for the response to his proposal with bated breath. The answer came not in words, but in the form of a swift breeze and long, sinewy fingers digging into his shoulders. An almost-deafening rush of wind followed, and John's feet lifted from the sand.

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

Since his return to Crockett Island, the Angel had become more... selective in its appearances. John would pray and call for it by night, but it would not always answer him. Oftentimes he would simply request it to refill the decanter. But occasionally, on nights like tonight when the sky was clear and the moon was as bright as it was when he emerged from those ruins, he would make an additional request.

John never could get accustomed to the view from high above. In all his years at St. Patrick's, he never would have dreamed he'd be able to see this, Crocket Island, in its full glory: the sea, glistening, ever-shifting in the moonlight, the soft web of streetlamps and porchlights connecting the town like so many little campfires, keeping vigil while townsfolk slept in their beds. Dark swaths of pine trees separating the golden glow of the streetlamps and the silvery sparkling waves. The air so high up is quiet, just the rushing of wind and the steady, hypnotizing beat of the Angel's wings.

When he's this high up, for a moment, the island, the people, and all of humanity's problems seem so small, so tiny, so far away. And John wonders if this is what God sees, and he sees why God doesn't answer every prayer - how could He, when there are so many small words spoken by so many small people. It would be like putting your ear to the ground and trying to hear the ants speak.

And he's grateful - oh he's so, so grateful, God must have seen him, one ant among many, chosen him, and brought one of His Angels down to help him. Because when he puts his feet back on the ground, he can carry out God's work. He doesn't have to wait for Him to put His ear to the ground next to this tiny, tiny island. Because John is here to carry out His work. He can help the people. He can help Leeza, he can help Riley. He can help Millie. And when he looks at the tasks ahead of him from so high up, it's really a small feat. With the Angel's help, he can save all of them.

John knows he can't miraculously save the world. Because he's not God, no, of course not. He can't save the whole world himself. But he can do God's work on Crockett Island, save just a little part of the world. He could build just a small slice of Eden right here on the island. A place with no death, and no suffering. John had returned to the island to find its people drained of life. Weary. Just waiting for something, anything to happen, feeling like they were at a dead end. But he is here to change it. As the Angel did him, John is giving the people life. A second chance. He knows it. He's seeing it in Riley, he saw it in Leeza. And his dear, dear Millie is showing more life every day.

John's feet touch the ground once more, near the porch of the rectory. The Angel swoops into the darkness of the trees. The stars are dimming in the firmament above; daylight will come soon. And with it, another Sunday mass.

A second chance. John Pruitt feels a warmth in his chest and a smile tug at his lips as he awaits the dawn of a new day.

#boy I did not mean to write this much #I hope I got the monsignor's voice right #not included in this fic: the angel drops pruitt off at the mall so he can shop for skinny jeans #and pruitt returns to the abandoned building the angel hid in with an ice cold frappe for it #hot priest summer #I hope y'all don't mind me tagging you so much!#I just love having people to talk about midnight mass with ^^#midnight mass spoilers #fic #adventurer writes #I hope the end is ok - like I'm happy with the end-end part but I don't know how I feel about like the middle-end part #oh well

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olivinesea · 3 years

Text

Worth the Keeping

a/n: Damn this was a slow one. Brought to you by the way asphalt looks under streetlights and me having been a badly behaved teenage drunk. It’s long but there’s no way around it. TW abuse, nothing wild tho. One bad slur, I’m sorry. Settle in for some in depth Hotch thoughts. ~6k

Young Hotch, young Haley. Bittersweet.

He’s never thought much about his own life, never felt that it carried much importance. Certainly the people in his home did not value it. He thinks perhaps his mother did at one point but she is too caught up in her own worries and the care of Sean to devote any attention to him. Sometimes she even seems angry if he appears to need help. So he makes sure never to need it. He learns how to splint broken fingers and reset dislocated joints, how butterfly bandages and superglue were all that was needed to close most wounds. He thinks, when he is encouraged to imagine the future by naively optimistic teachers, that perhaps he will be an EMT since he’s become so good at triage. He’s met a few EMTs, the rare times when an ambulance was necessary, the threat to life too immediate to ignore. They usually seem like nice, if a little intense, people.

Once, when he was only five, he had experienced anaphylaxis after being stung by a bee. He’d already learned not to make a big deal out of life’s little injuries. So when the bee stings him in the garden, he knows not to say anything. It is his fault anyway, it is always his fault. He sucks on the skin around the sting, anything to take away the fiery sensation he is feeling. He has never been stung by a bee before, had no idea what was going to happen as he grabbed at the little buzzing creatures flying busily around his mother’s flower garden. It turned out, bees did not appreciate chubby hands grasping at them and one made a point of letting him know.

He creeps back to the house guiltily, thinking of the ice in the freezer, maybe he could get some of that. Sometimes his mother would bring him ice wrapped in a towel to place over the repercussions of his childish transgressions, still reaching for love he couldn’t earn. It was always too cold, biting in a way that made the injuries pulse. But he accepted it because it meant that his mother was sitting near him, that he wasn’t alone for a little while. This only reinforced his lessons that care was painful. Wasn’t it better to have someone care so much it hurt than to have no one to care at all? She promised him that’s all it was, it was only because they cared that these things happened. It was only that he was still learning.

But right now, the bee sting is burning a hole in his hand and he thinks maybe the ice could at least distract him from that pain. He slips silently into the house, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dark interior after the bright summer sun. He is breathing hard, but each breath seems to draw in less air. Maybe he is afraid. He knows fear, is intimately familiar with the feeling. He knows it better than most five year olds do, who only experience fear on a basic level—sometimes practical: fires burn, falling from high places is dangerous; sometimes fantastical: what if there are dragons in the woods or ghosts in the attic. Fear was a means to keep you safe but when you are a child there are supposed to be adults helping keep you safe as well. A child’s fear shouldn’t have to be so specific. Aaron is afraid of slammed doors and broken glass and dirt tracked in on his shoes. He is afraid of storms that brew in bottles of dark liquid and unleash torrential outpourings of disgust.

In this moment he is afraid, not of a monster, but of a person who might be watching him from the shadows of the living room. He is too young to understand schedules and time, he doesn’t know his greatest fear is otherwise occupied. Instead, he lets fear be the reason for his change in breathing. He makes it to the kitchen with its big windows and bright lighting, only to find his hand has grown, comically large and heavy, the skin swollen and stretched. Breathing feels like trying to drag air through a wet towel. He feels his heart racing as the fear closes in but still stays quiet. He probably wouldn’t be able to make much noise if he tried but he doesn’t want to find out who else is inside the house at the moment.

Through the small luck allotted him, his mother comes in minutes later to find him curled on the kitchen floor, skin around his mouth a pale blue, his eyes closed in concentration, trying to will air through his constricted windpipe. She is about to scold him, to tell him to stop playing when she sees his hand, all doughy pink and covered in hives that travel up his arm to his thin chest. She rushes to the phone to call 911. She’s never been more scared, both that her son might die and that her husband might find out how careless they’d both been.

Ambulances weren’t easy to hide, drew too much attention, but something tells her there isn’t time for a different choice. The EMTs assure her she had done the right thing, quickly setting to work administering epinephrine and monitoring Aaron’s oxygen levels. If he seems rather quiet and withdrawn for a five year old, he had just gone through a dramatic, life threatening experience. It would cause anyone to sink into a bit of shock. They don’t notice the nervous looks exchanged between mother and son, both their eyes darting to the long driveway every so often, looking out for incoming danger. When they tell her the boy needs to be taken to the hospital for further care she visibly balks.

“But he seems fine now, he’s doing better right?”

The child in question is sitting in the open back of the ambulance, thin legs dangling, scum from leftover bandaid adhesive outlining skinned knees. He is breathing carefully into a mask that another medic holds for him. His hand is cradled in his lap, no longer outlandishly large but still misshapen. He looks fragile and she longs to pull him away, out of the hands of these strangers, who may only be trying to help but don’t realize how their help might have consequences. She wants them to leave, wants the house to return to the state it was in this morning when her husband left for the day, so he wouldn’t see anything as out of place, wouldn’t have to know about the day’s events.

She is worried about talk in the neighborhood, about the way her front lawn has been overrun by busy people in uniform, doing what she can’t imagine. But it was a future worry; she was so good at keeping secrets surely this was one she could fit in somewhere. If only she can keep it contained to this moment, prevent it from spreading.

“He is, but it’s important that he go. There could be a secondary reaction.”

Her arms are crossed and she rubs her index finger across her bottom lip absently as she tries to think quickly. Victor will be home soon, he would be disturbed to find them gone. She doesn’t think there will be any way to hide this if they went to the hospital. Too many people will see, there will be no way to lie away their absence. But if they didn’t go now and Aaron got worse, she couldn’t very well call the emergency services a second time. She looks at him again. He is now staring down at the ground, swinging his little legs back and forth. She hates that she has to make a decision like this. She hates how there were likely no good outcomes no matter what she chooses. She pinches her lip between her fingernails for a moment then sighs as she gives in.

“Ok, let’s go. I just need to call my husband first.”

It was only the presence of the hospital staff that stops him from strangling both mother and son when he receives the bill. Aaron shrinks against his mother’s side as his father thanks the doctor with a tight voice before turning and walking out of the building. His mother, nervous herself, is shivering, he can feel her body shake as he presses against her. She takes off on quick steps to follow his father from the building. She would have left him behind if he hadn’t been gripping tightly to her skirt, nearly dragging him off balance with her speed. They get into the car silently. Aaron climbs behind the passenger seat to the back and tries to melt into the corner. The air is snapping with electricity as a fast moving spring rainstorm darkens the sky around them. The tension makes him want to scream. He knows better.

“I’m sorry, there wasn’t time,” his mother starts, her voice embarrassingly plaintive.

"Shut up.”

Aaron’s eyes dart back and forth between his parents. He sees his mother hang her head, rounding her shoulders ever so slightly. He sees his father’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. He knows this was his fault but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He opens his mouth to say something but right then lightening cracks across the sky in front of them and they are all dazed by the flash.

Later, after they get back to the house and Aaron is sent to his room, the crashes of thunder mingle with his father’s shouting, his mother’s cries. He shivers beneath his too thin blanket, his lungs still feel new and foreign. Like they have been scraped raw and newly exposed to their purpose of pulling oxygen into his small body. He has suspected it before but this experience has solidified in his mind that he shouldn’t be here, that his presence only causes distress. He knows his mother would be better off if he had died, he knows his father would be less angry about that than whatever humiliation he feels he’s just experienced at the hospital. For some reason, despite his wishes to the contrary, he only brings about waste and pain. He had only wanted to meet the tiny creatures, to see if their busy movements, their buzzing hearts matched his own.

As he gets older, he grows tired of the care, he wishes more and more to be ignored. If only his father cared less, he could fade into the wallpaper, disappear into the shadows of their house. If no one cares, he can’t disappoint with his shortcomings. He can just float around in a fog that softens the world around him, never caring too much about anything, never feeling that sting of caring. If he doesn’t care, nothing matters, nothing can touch him.

Aaron has completely accepted the fact of his own unimportance by the time he is a teenager. He does everything he can to blend into the background. To escape the notice of others because being noticed is never safe. It reminds people that he dares to take up space, dares to make use of resources better allocated to creatures more deserving, less hateful.

Something shifts once he hits puberty, a sort of recklessness sparks inside him. Though he is still careful to avoid the attentions of adults, he starts to bite back when other kids tease him. They had been teasing him his whole life. For his strange haircuts and too small or too large clothing. For never having new things. They told him he was dirty, they told him he was weird. All the usual small cruelties children hurl at one another.

Now that he is in high school and has gone through a growth spurt, not yet his full size but much larger than he had been, he has some power. He notices the way the other kids step back when he stands up quickly, only with the desire to run and hide, but he notices it nevertheless. I’ll remember that, he thinks as he walks, rather than runs, to escape from their taunts.

Part way into his freshman year he breaks someone’s nose. While not exactly justified it wasn’t unprovoked either. They had been picking at him throughout the day. Purposely running him into lockers, knocking over his lunch tray and pinching him as he walked by. There are so many of them and they are so quick about it he is never completely sure who is doing it. His irritation grows inside him such that he wouldn’t be surprised to see smoke drifting out of his ears. The pokes and jabs are bad enough on their own but what the other kids don’t know is that they are just layering over deeper bruises, ones he does his best to forget about. If he thinks about those too much he’d go crazy.

The older he gets the harder it is to hold together the fractured reality he lives inside of. The one where a man can be both a hero and a monster. He has known since he was little about the danger his father carries but as he got older and saw more of the world around him he has realized that this is not the same for everyone. And not only is it not the same, his experience is somehow invisible, inconceivable to all the eyes of his hometown. As an adult he will look back and realize that some people did know, they just didn’t do anything to help, for whatever complicated reasons adults tell themselves that they shouldn’t get involved in others’ business. Even if the cost is taken out of a child’s nightmares.

So when Luke Gatson pulls his too-long hair and calls him a fag at the end of the day, he’s had enough. He swings his fist blindly but with all the force of years of built up anger. He is surprisingly accurate, maybe having absorbed more knowledge of inflicting pain over the years than he realized. There is an audible crack as the other boy collapses on his knees, holding both hands over his bleeding nose. Aaron stares at him, hand still clenched in a fist, eyes burning. Luke’s friends crowd around him, glancing between the two, wondering if they are meant to get some sort of revenge for their friend. Aaron can see that they are surprised, probably the reason that they haven’t jumped him immediately. He also sees the tears on Luke’s face that he is trying to hide. That makes him feel bad and he loses any sense of the burning hatred that had taken over.

“Sorry, Luke,” he says sheepishly.

“Fuck you Hotchner,” Luke replies, scowling at him.

Aaron shrugs, he’s heard worse, and walks away toward home. As afternoon becomes evening, Aaron’s stomach is in knots over the thought that his father will find out what he’d done. He is sure the man will not be pleased about it. He is so anxious he can’t even pretend to eat what is in front of him at dinner, a frequent struggle that earns him glares from both parents. He can’t stop darting his eyes to the phone, waiting for it to ring and deliver his sentencing.

He is washing the dishes when it finally does and he nearly drops the soapy ceramic, startled by the sound. He forces himself to stay still, to keep doing what he is supposed to, maybe his mother will intercept it. But his mother is putting Sean to bed, only his father is downstairs and he can hear him grumbling about people’s lack of decency calling so late. Aaron can only make out muffled sounds from the other room as his father has a short exchange with whoever is on the other end. He hasn’t been able to move since the phone started ringing and his hands start to shake as he hears the small click of the receiver, the footsteps coming toward the kitchen. He carefully sets the plate in the sink but continues to grip the sponge like it might be some sort of shield. He feels his father’s presence behind him and slowly turns to face him.

Victor is looking at him curiously from the doorway, eyebrows pulled together, corners of his mouth drawn down slightly.

“You got in a fight.” It is not a question, he is not interested in the details or whether his son might have different information.

Internally Aaron panics, trying to think of a way to escape this situation. He’s had plenty of time to consider how his father would react and how he might possibly minimize the fallout. Outside he is perfectly still, eyes downcast, breathing measured. Maybe he should run. He hasn’t tried that since he was small, too small to understand there was nowhere to run to. Maybe he would be fast enough now. Then he hears the least expected sound. He has to look up to convince himself he is interpreting it correctly. His father is laughing. His eyes go wide with alarm, he can’t remember his father ever laughing before. Maybe this has unlocked some new level of anger.

“Must have been a weak little shit to get taken down by you,” he says.

Still in shock, Aaron has nothing to say. His dad rubs his face with his hand, a little chuckle escaping. He drops his hand and looks at Aaron.

“Never fucking do that again. You won’t like what happens after.” All humor gone, the stony glare reappears. With that he turns and walks away, his steps only slightly unsteady.

Despite knowing better Aaron gets into more fights and his father delivers on his promise. Rationally he knows he can stop this. Maybe he doesn’t always have control over what happens to him at home, but this, the fighting, is completely a choice. After the first incident a few other kids test him, seeing if his breaking Luke’s nose was only luck. They quickly discover that he is able to back up that first knock out. Aaron is a natural fighter. He is on the scrawny side but what he lacks in mass he makes up for in pure rage. After a few more black eyes and split lips, the other kids grow more cautious, give him space when they walk by. No one teases him anymore.

But those fights taught him something. He discovers he likes the experience of being on the attack rather than only receiving. He never fights back at home, it is unthinkable to try to defend himself against what comes at him there. But out here in the world, for a few moments, he becomes something else. He becomes electricity and thunder, the one operating the crane that swings the wrecking ball, demolishing years of pent up confusion with his fists. He starts fights now. It does’t matter that it means he goes home to a matching fist, a coordinating set of bruises. He would be going home to that anyway, wouldn’t he? The blood in his mouth tastes like winning.

A couple years into high school and this is all he is now. Something dark and dangerous, he walks through the hallways, glaring at others, raising his fists any time he can find an excuse. If people notice he has more bruises than ever before, dusky marks on his cheek, his neck, the angry red patches of skin exposed during scuffles, it only makes sense given how much he’s taken to fighting.

Sometimes he sees flashes of fear in their eyes as he gains the upper hand and for a split second he is remorseful, identifying with that fear. But then, just as quickly, he is angry again. Angry that this fear is so new to them when for him it’s been a close companion all his life. He resents their normalcy and their parents that scold and worry, making a big show of taking away privileges when they have to come to collect their misbehaving child from the principal’s office. His father never makes a big show, barely says anything at all, simply apologizing to the principal, promising he will talk it over with his son, will make sure he understands the gravity of the path he is heading down. He can’t look at his father during these meetings, afraid he might scream, if only to drown out the ringing in his ears.

One time it is his mother rather than his father picking him up after yet another fight and he makes the mistake of making eye contact with her. The tears are instantaneous. He brushes at his face roughly with the heels of his hands, but nothing he does can stop them. He is frightening to see cry, making the people around him very uncomfortable with the way he is completely silent. The principal doesn’t bother giving his mother the usual speech, only ushers them out the door, his mother offering a quiet thank you. Looking into her eyes had shown him that she knows, that she knows what is coming and she will do nothing to stop it.

She had given up on him when Sean was born, writing him off as a lost cause. She will give everything to Sean; if only she can keep him safe, she won’t be a total failure. She felt guilty at first, trying to reason that Aaron was old enough to take care of himself but the nagging feeling of abandoning her responsibility was hard to escape. As he grew older, however, he had become this stranger she no longer feels anything for but shame. She can’t wait for the day he is old enough to leave the house. She knows there will be no peace before then.

Aaron fights with a determination that reveals how little he takes into account his own safety. He’ll fight with anyone; bigger, older, more experienced, it doesn’t matter. He’s even started to pick fights with adults, daring them to react. Nothing anyone does can touch him. Without a sense of self, a drive for self preservation, there is no reason not to throw himself entirely into the burning of the world. He would deny it but his deepest secret is the hope that if he keeps at it, perhaps someone will notice, someone will care enough to tell him he is worth compassion. Every time he fights and no one asks why, it reinforces this idea: that he is worthless, just an embarrassment to minimize. So he fights harder. He doesn’t know if he is trying to prove them right or wrong.

He only slows down when his father breaks his wrist and threatens to send him away. Alone in his room, doing his best to immobilize the joint with an old brace, he cries, hot and painful tears. Not because of the injury but for how twisted he’s become, how the only comfort he has found has been in turning this brutality on others.

Wandering the halls after school one day, prolonging the time before he heads home in the rain, he hears singing. Mindlessly he walks toward it, curious who might be the owner of such light that they can spill it out of themselves in sound. He comes to an open door and finds clumps of students standing or sitting, all facing toward a makeshift stage. Standing alone at the front was the singer, her face as beautiful as her voice suggests. He is magnetized. Her song ends and he feels it like a loss, barely registering the exchange between the girl and the two adults in the room as they thank her and make some marks on a clipboard. Suddenly there are fingers snapping in his face and he glares down at their owner, pulling his injured wrist in against his chest, protecting it from whatever action he is going to take. When he finds a small freshman boy looking up at him with an expression not of fear, only interest, he is confused. He is not accustomed to anyone looking at him without some degree of anger.

“Are you here for auditions?” The boy seems a little exasperated, like he’s repeated the question dozens of times already.

Aaron blinks at him. Auditions? As he is trying to understand the question, another kid steps into the spot last occupied by the singing girl and says a few words before beginning to sing as well. He notes that they are good as well but nowhere near the sweetness he was drawn in by. He looks around the room trying to find the girl, he is fairly certain he’s seen her before, maybe in one of his English classes. He never paid much attention to the other kids outside of which ones might deserve a fight. He spots her in a corner whispering with another girl, ducking her head and smiling, playfully knocking her friend’s shoulder. The strange feeling in his chest is his heart melting. He looks back down when he feels a tug on his shirt sleeve. He is ready to bite the head off of this annoying child.

“There’s a spot left if you want to audition. You have something prepared right?”

Aaron Hotchner has nothing prepared, nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment but he’d do anything to get closer to that smile. He nods.

“Sure.” He can barely get the word out, his throat is dry and raspy. The kid looks at him quizzically, Aaron almost laughs at the way one of his eyebrows rises up. He can already imagine him as a crinkled old man.

“You have something to sing?” he questions more directly, doubt clearly apparent.

Aaron shrugs, he can come up with something. On the better days, the spring and summer days, when the light gets longer and he can wander in the woods for hours, he sang with the birds. Singing was nothing new to him. Singing for other people though, he does’t like that idea at all if he lets himself think about it. But there is no time to think. He is giving his name and being jostled into the room. Before he has fully taken in his surroundings, his name is spoken with some confusion as he is called up to his turn.

One of the adults is his civics teacher from his freshman year. She frowns as she looked at him and he feels a wash of anxiety, remembering who he is, remembering he is not made for good things. He opens and closes his mouth but no sound comes out. The room is quiet and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He exhales, angry with himself, looking up to glare out at this roomful of people who’s only crime is agreeing with him that he is worthless. But he sees her again—she is smiling, barely, but it is enough.

He clears his throat and starts to sing. It is a quiet sad song, a hymn he’s heard a hundred times as he forced himself to stay awake during services. There is not enough penance in the world to absolve him but he likes the music sometimes. This one has been a favorite for many years. His voice gets stronger as he settles into it, staring at the floor just beyond his shoes, trying to picture himself out in the woods, surrounded by his only companions—the silent trees and the birdsong. When he stops they are staring at him and he hates it. He rubs one foot against the back of the other calf, considering just walking out of the room before anyone is forced to say anything, to embarrass him further with some pitying words.

“That—that was great!” the teacher finally says. “We needed a baritone, you would be perfect.”

Aaron just nods, cheeks flushed as he risks another look to the corner where the girl had been standing. She is still there, looking at him more carefully now, her expression an odd mix of emotion. It is enough to give him the courage to smile back, just slightly, the tiniest twitch of the corner of his mouth.

“Rehearsals start next week. Everyday after school. Can you do that?”

He nods again, dragging his eyes back to the adults in front of him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, just as quietly as when he started.

As he walks away, he hears his old civics teacher mutter to the drama teacher, “I had no idea he could sing. I’ve barely heard him speak.”

The other teacher hums back in agreement, just as confused.

Many months down the line and Aaron has softened a little. No longer an instigator of fights, he has other things on his mind. The anger hasn’t gone anywhere but he holds it back so that it doesn’t disturb the peace he finds with Haley. She is the best thing to ever come into his life and he knows he doesn’t deserve her; knows it is only a matter of time before the world rights itself and takes this gentle soul from him. He knows she is not a second chance, no one will ever forget what he is, he can never outrun the dark looks that follow his name. But he’ll hide in the solace she provides as long as the world lets him.

To her credit, she doesn’t make him feel foreign or pathetic as she learns new layers of his reality. Inside she cringes at every revelation but she is careful, keeping an invitation on her face, making space for him to bleed out some of what poisons him. He is hesitant and slow to share, sure that each slip will send her running. But when she does’t run, when she only pulls him closer, he trembles with the desire to be seen the way she seems to. That relentlessly denied hope gaining strength—that someone might care to look past the barbed wire and broken glass he’s made a home within.

There are good days and bad, they are only children after all. Sometimes he can’t explain his feelings. They are too big and all he wants to do was rip apart the world to find a place he can bury them. He tries to hide from her but she’s caught on to his tricks, seeking him out in all his usual unusual places: behind the gym, near the creek, the empty fields around his home. She grabs his shaking hands and pulls him to the ground, leaning against him and stroking the back of his hand while he shivers out the small pieces of a story that he thinks she can handle. The reality is it is much more than she can but much less than he needs. But they do their best.

She waits until she is alone or with her sister to cry for the ways life has harmed him, has doubled back on its promise and turned something she thought was a gift into nothing but torment. It is the first time she’s really understood what people mean when they say life is unfair. But she is stubborn and believes everyone deserves kindness, if no one else was willing to provide, she will be his reprieve.

At first the other girls laugh, thinking it is some kind of joke, a cliche, the beauty and the beast. But as they watch him change, catching smiles and held hands, they are in awe of Haley Brooks. While they can’t forget their distaste for the weird and angry boy they’ve known since grade school, they think perhaps there is something they missed. The softer-hearted among them root for their success; the others, once over the novelty, do their best to ignore the couple. Soon it isn’t even worth a comment when Haley turns up to some social event, towing along a brooding but behaved Aaron Hotchner.

It is Halloween and she’s convinced him to come to a party. Not a big deal, she promises, just a keg and some idiots in the woods. He gives in easily because he knows how badly she wants to go and he tries to give her whatever normalcy he can. He is uncomfortable at parties but appreciative that this one will be outside, in the woods, his woods, as he likes to think of them. The party is uneventful, he even manages to get a laugh from a group of tipsy sophomores when he makes a dry observation of the likeness of warm beer to peanuts. He hadn’t been trying to be funny but their laughter feels nice anyway.

They wander away from the party together, walking towards the neighborhood they both live in. He has handed over his jacket to supplement the impractical blue gingham dress she is wearing. He’d resisted her requests for a couples costume and frowned unhappily when she thrust a flannel and a straw hat at him as they were headed out. He’d put his normal jacket on over it as soon as she was distracted by a conversation and “lost” the hat somewhere in a bush. At least without the hat he could feasibly be wearing a normal outfit though he would never pick out something quite so green.

They hold hands as they walk down the sidewalk, tugging on one another slightly just to feel the comfort of the opposing weight. Occasionally there is a sign post and he drops her hand to split around it, only to grab it back and pull her in closely for a kiss. She giggles, enjoying this looser version of him. He doesn’t drink in front of her very often, usually too nervous to lower his guard and make himself vulnerable in that way.

As they get closer to town, he steps further into the street when he lets go of her hand. There is more traffic here and she is confused by what he’s doing. Maybe he is getting tired, not paying attention to his actions. She isn’t completely wrong, though it’s not the sort of inattention she’s thinking of. Every headlight that burns their vision pulls at him. The promise of impact, of un-ignorable damage draws him closer. He laughs as he stumbles, veering back to the sidewalk with smaller and smaller margins. He seems to have forgotten her, instead he is focused on this private game without a possibility of winning. It makes her nervous but she tells herself it isn’t a big deal. All boys are like this, flirting with destruction.

As yet another car passes with only a few feet of clearance, she can’t take it anymore.

“Aaron! This isn’t fun for me,” she is upset and the tone of her voice cuts through the drunken fog of his mind. He’s almost forgotten he isn’t alone, hypnotized by the weave of light and dark. Immediately remorseful, he jumps back to the sidewalk, planting his feet heavily and grabbing her around the waist. He pulls her in close, tucking her head under his chin, closing his eyes against the rise and fall of the horizon.

“‘m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. She shakes her head but squeezes him, arms wrapped around his torso. He takes another breath and opens his eyes, watching as another car passes them, oblivious to their small drama. The lights still pull at him but he clings to her, holding on for all he’s worth.

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #young hotch #tw abuse #hotch thoughts

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taking-over-his-life · 3 years

Text

I wanted to be a biker, and my new job gave me a chance Ill never forget

I had just been successful at getting a promotion as a station manager to one of the central logistics hubs. The company had a range of logistics services including parcel delivery by van, specialist delivery by motorbike, and special link to the airport for customs clearance. I was really excited about it as it was only 5 miles from my house, and it was the first opportunity to manage 100 staff that was based at this site.

My office was on the first floor and had a window that looked out over the main logistics centre, so I could see people coming and going on bikes and in vans.

In my first months I spent the time to get to know the management, supervisors and staff, or as many as I could. I spent a bit of time in the staff restaurant with the men and women that work there.

I took special interest in the motorcycle courier section as I had a general interest in the bikes as well as those who rode them. They were out in all weathers and it showed on their leathers, and faces, well worn and when you got close you could also smell their gear. It took all my will power to keep my hands off them. I watched them in the smoking area in groups, laughing and horsing about with each other.

I was stuck up here doing the planning. Damn they seemed so happy so free. I watched as they came in from the rain, and put their drenched leathers over the radiators in the locker room. The smell wafted upstairs upsetting the women in the admin pool. I said I'd sort it, but damn I loved it.

I went down so they thought I was dealing. There were two guys in the locker room were in their undies, fuck I nearly came. ‘You ok guys’, I said. ‘Fucking soaking’ one replied, the other kept his head down. ‘Well get dry before you go out’. I said ‘Do we not supply waterproofs’ I said, ‘yes but forgot them’ he said. I walked out with a nose and lung full of that masculine smell. You would often find me down there during the day to get to know the guys.

After a couple of months it was time for me to check out the night shift.

There were a number of people I had not met, plus I wanted to see how the shifts worked. I checked in advance, and there was one controller who was at the far side of the complex, two drivers and 1 motorcycle courier who were working that night shift.

I arrived at about 1 am, and went straight to my office to do a little bit of work before I introduced myself to those on duty.

I decided to go in nice and tidy, and wear a suit. After about 30-minutes I went downstairs, and decided to go straight to the control room. There was a guy in it called Dan. He got a bit of a shock that I was there, but I had a good chat with him and asked where the drivers were.

Both are out on jobs but they would be back in about 2 or 3 hours. I said I would let him know if I was still here when they got back. I would also let him know when I was leaving.

I asked about the courier and he said he would be in the crew room which was under the admin block right at the other side of the complex. There was nothing scheduled for him that night he was just on standby for emergencies.

I walked over to the crew room. It was about 5-minutes walk from the control room. Dan had to stay in control room to man the phone and the radio so I knew it was only me and the biker on that side of the building

It will be interesting to meet him. It was about 3 a.m. I had a boner which is normal for me at night, I just somehow had to keep it hidden so a little bit of adjustment and I felt more comfortable.

It was going to be interesting to see how he reacted when the boss arrived. I was always professional so didn't see it as a major problem for myself 5 minutes conversation and I'll be back upstairs and could have a real good wank.

I went into to crew room and there was no one there that I could see, so I went around the other side by the kitchen just to see whether he was there there was no one there. I decided to go out into a corridor and go into the locker room, it's always something I enjoy, as the smell of guys leather boots old clothes damp clothes so erotic.

I pushed the door open and to my shock I saw the courier on the bench in between the lockers wearing his off-road boots, leather jeans and a black T-shirt. His Boots were on the back of two seats with his hand on his dick wanking furiously.

What shocked me is how much he was so into it, he neither heard nor saw me. I stood there getting so excited rubbing my own groin. He opened his eyes and jumped when he saw me. ‘Don't move’ I said really loudly,’keep going you need to release’.

He put his hand back on his dick and smiled at me, ‘you want to help’ he said beckoning me over. I did and walked over to him I got down on my knees and moved my head towards his erect dick and swallowed his shaft licking and sucking as I moaned with delight.

My hands were on his leathered thighs, and I could feel his muscles under the warm leather. His gloved hands came over and pushed my head down so the top of his dick was at the back of my throat, I just moaned with absolute delight.

I was inbetween his legs tasting his premium smelling his leathers and feeling the warmth of his body through the leather was just incredible. I looked up at him pulled away from his dick, ‘upstairs’ I said, ‘I'm your new manager’ I said. He gulped and smiled, ‘ok sir’ he said. He stood up and I saw him better, ‘nice’ I said. He grabbed my ass, ‘I'd like a piece of that’. He followed me upstairs and into the admin area. I locked the door.

That was it. We both let go of every inhibition. We were all over each other in each others mouths ass nothing was left untouched. He took off his T to reveal a tattooed torso. I licked at those pecs and then enjoyed the days old stink from his pits, licking them clean.

Off came his boots and socks. My head went straight into the boots pulling his foot stink into my nose and lungs. It was hypnotic, the socks were unbelievable, male hormone leather and foot smell. I decided to pull off his leather jeans. He was wearing thermals underneath. It wasn’t long before I had them off him and against my nose. He followed quickly by stripping me naked,after that it was body against body.

He was lying on the sofa legs apart when I decided to stand over him and lower my ass onto that huge dick. He held my waist and guided me on. In seconds he was in me. Pushing hard as I bobbed up and down. I knew he was close due to the breathing and clenched my ass muscles, he came floods in side me, grunting and moaning

I collapsed on top of him and cuddled in. He did the same.

After 10 mins or so he got up and went to sit at my desk. ‘Feels good’ he said, ‘how do I look?’

I smiled at him picked up my briefs, and threw them at him. ‘You need to dress the part,’ I said. I walked over to him put my hand on his balls and said ‘but first let's get this off you’.

I went to his dick and removed his cock ring, putting it on my own dick and balls, then the silver neck chain over his head and onto mine then his rings.

‘Better dress the part’ he said. He rushed to pull my briefs over his dick and balls, then the vest. I passed him my shirt trousers, socks, shoes and jacket, and watched him as he dressed. He was so excited.

‘How do you feel ‘I said, as he rubbed himself all over,’ just perfect’ he said with a smile on his face. ‘I’m the boss now and I need a biker’s dick in my ass. I want to take it over my desk’.

I was taken aback but an offer like that can’t be refused. I moved toward him dick erect. I said ‘I’m a biker’, he said ‘put your gear on first’.

I didn't need to be told twice and so his thermals went on my legs over my butt and encased my dick. The socks were next followed by the leather jeans. I zipped them up, felt them I was so damn horny. Then the trail boots filthy from wear went on went both my feet and got buckled up.

There was only his BO stenched black T which I pulled over my head. I was the biker now.

‘So boss’ I said ‘get you ass over here’. He stood up came round the desk and started to kiss me. I spun him around put my hands around his waist and undid his belt, unzipped him and let his pants fall down. I pulled down his briefs and undid my leather jeans manoeuvred my dick through the thermals pushed him face first down onto his desk. His ass was in the air. I slowly pushed my dick head against it and slowly and gradually moved in up to the hilt. I started to pull in and out then faster becoming more violent.

He moaned in ecstasy. I was so hot I could smell his scent mingling with mine from the T shirt, and suddenly I just burst and cum flowed into his guts as I totally emptied my load. I dropped on top of him. Held him, and pulled out.

He was just elated as was I. He pulled up the trousers and sat at my desk.

‘Fucking incredible man I could enjoy this office, being the boss’, he said., ‘go get your jacket, helmet, gloves and reflective from the locker room biker man, then come back up and service your boss’ he said. ‘They are on the bench’.

‘Yes boss’ I said, which excited him. I went down to the locker room, loving the feel of his jeans and boots.

The rest of his gear was there. I pulled on his fleece which stunk of sweat, then the leather jacket. Zipped myself in and attached it to the jeans. Fuck it felt good. His hi vis tabard and radio were next, and then I pulled his helmet over my head, and then started to pull, on the gloves.

Suddenly the door burst open. I jumped, ‘Where the fuck have you been Dave’ Dan the controller shouted, ‘get the fuck on that bike Dave, I have an urgent pick up’. He gave me a ticket. ‘Get a fucking move on he screamed’.

I had no choice I grabbed my gloves and headed out to the bike. He believed I was Dave.

The keys were in it. I started it up, entered the details into the sat nav pulled on the gloves and rode off

It was about 4am, freezing cold and the rain was belting down. Ages since it rode a bike but his gear felt so warm and soft on my skin. I rode for 30mins feeling more erotic, and more at home in his gear. I walked in as a courier and picked up a parcel the guy gave me. He gave me an address for delivery. I put it in the satnav and headed off for the delivery. Before I did it I called into control to let Dan know.

Before I set off, I got a call from the real Dave. ‘Where the fuck are you’ he said. I explained. ‘What do I do’ he said ‘people will arrive in a couple of hours.’ He was shit scared. ‘Go to my place .car keys in top drawn it’s the BMW outside. I gave him my address. I was due to be off for a few days.

It was 530 when it delivered the parcel. I was soaked, but it was so damn sexual and the smell from his gear incredible. The leathers were so tight on me must be the rain I thought.

I reported to control. I was off at 6 so they told me to go home. I was exhausted

It was two hours to my place. I was soaked the weather was worse. I wondered where he lived. I rang he answered

‘I'm fucking soaked and freezing’ I said in a gruffer voice than normal, must be the cold. , ‘welcome to my life man’ he replied. ‘I’m in old street, where do u live I cant ride 2 hours in this rain’ I said, he replied. ‘Your ten mins away’ ‘Thank heavens, I’ll go to your place and come over to tomorrow’ ‘ok’ he said, he sounded different.

‘Have u been drinking’ I shouted, ‘yep nice place here’ he said’ just be careful in my place’ I retorted ‘Great body’ he said, ‘what’ I responded, I didn’t know what he meant. I felt the rain coming through on my chest, and my beard was rubbing on my helmet. Beard? I just put the thought away and headed to his place.

I parked the bike and headed upstairs to the flat. I found the keys in an outside pocket of the soaked leather jacket. I got inside and started to undress. Helmet. Came off my head, I pulled the gloves off finger by finger, as they stuck to me. Totally sodden. The, soaked, jacket, was unzipped, and fell down my shoulders. Then the damp stinking fleece came away from my chest, then my BO covered t-shirt, I was naked on top and cold. I rushed to remove the boots, full of water; my feet were freezing, then my thermals and socks. I left them all n a pile in the hallway and headed to the bedroom. I saw the bed through the darkness and just jumped in.

‘Your fucking freezing’, came a shout from a woman. ‘Fuck’ I said. I pulled the duvet over my head and my ring caught in my hair, hair? I curled up and she came over and wrapped herself around me. ‘Poor bugger’ she said ‘let's warm you up’. I was terrified she would notice I wasn’t Dave, but I felt best to just stay there and be quiet. I felt her breasts against my back. Fucking hell, what is going to happen when she sees me and realises I'm not Dave.

It felt so good as she as she cuddled in. I went to sleep. The next minute, which must have been hours later, as it was daylight, she was sitting on the bed looking at me with a hot drink. I was shocked she accepted me. I took the drink and as I looked at my hands they were different tattooed, ‘fucking hell’ I said to myself. I put down the drink and walked naked to a mirror. I was shocked I was him it was his face his body. I felt his longer hair his beard, he was a hard biker. I could see the tats on my arms and chest, I was him, My dick started to harden as I felt myself. I liked it.

‘How, why’. I was stunned. She came and wrapped herself around me. ‘You still as gorgeous’ she said as she pulled me to the bed, pushed me down, and undressed.

She was on me in seconds working my dick which responded. I felt her breasts and soon I turned her over and was fucking her for dear life.

This new body responded to her touch feel and smell like nothing I've ever felt it was so erotic.

I spent the rest of the day sleeping knowing that I had to get myself over to my own house that evening. The more time I spent in this body as Dave the more I liked it and I decided that maybe keeping it for a few extra days wouldn't harm anyone and will allow him a little bit of luxury in my place.

She dropped off all of my leathers and so I took the opportunity of putting the same on and telling her I was going out for a ride.

‘Can I come’ she said. ‘yes babe’ I replied. I was starting to talk like him. Out came a cig and I started to smoke as I pulled on all my gear. she disappeared to get ready and when she came out she was dressed head-to-toe in tight black leather with stilettos heels. I couldn't believe it she I couldn't believe it she was incredible. I grabbed her around the waist as we walked down to the bike. I was heading out into the country speeding all the way eventually stopping at a small coffee bar next to some Woods.

We had something to eat and drink all the time she's rubbing her leg on mine under the table I felt it was time we took a walk the wooded area.

When we got in there she started kiss me. I was a lot taller than her. So I lifted her up my placing my arms under her legs and pulling her upwards against the tree. She was now level with my face. I took my hand and unzipped her leather jeans which had its zip from back to front

I was kissing her I gradually unzipped my leather jeans my erect dick pushing in her direction till I found her hole. I pounded her against the tree and she enjoyed every second moaning with Delight.

I came deep inside of her we lay down on the ground and chatted she said that I seemed different. I asked ‘was good or bad?’ ‘very good ‘she said. after that we walked back to the bike and headed back to the flat

I received a call from Dave. He told me how much you was enjoying his new richer life and would I be prepared to stay in his place for a little longer.

I immediately said yes as I was quite enjoying the change he started to laugh

I came to realise that the change was created by exchanging clothes and getting the sweat of the other person on me. I wondered if he had ever done this before. He told me it was a regular event between himself and his girlfriend. I was shocked, he had been her? He told me how erotic it was and how much she liked it. It was only his body that could do it.

I couldn't believe what I just heard. That night I asked her if she wanted to change and she said yes. She loved to have a dick to fuck with again and so she began to gradually undress and I did the same.

I took out a joint and had a beer in my hand as I sat and watched the show. She slowly and sensually started to undress. The bedroom was dimly lit and she was high. She sat on the floor in front of me and lifted one leg. Resting her stiletto boot on my knee. I moved forward and found the zip near her vagina and started to slowly pull it down to the sole of her boot, he leg slipped out. My nose immediately went into the boot.

I did the same with the second one putting it to the side. She stood up in front of me as she turned around and asked me to untie the Basque. I did, it fell to the floor.

My dick was just raging; I stood up and rubbed myself against her. ‘It will soon be yours Dave she said, ‘all yours’ you can then be fucked so hard. She rubbed her leathered hands over her huge ass and crotch. Smiling at me. ‘you want’ yes yes’ I said.

‘unzip me’ she said. I put my hand up to her neck and started to pull the zipper down on the one piece. Right down to her privates. I pushed the leather over her shoulders and unzipped the small zips at her wrists and pulled it off her arms it dropped open near her ass. She was wearing a leather bra, which was filled with her ample breasts.

She sat on the bed, as I pulled the one piece past her ass and off her legs, I knew id be in it soon, and I was as hard as iron seeping precum.

She undid her stockings and rolled them down her legs throwing them as me. I caught them, then the suspender belt came off and now the leather knickers. ‘These are yours now’ she said. I lit any another joint, and keep drinking. ‘I want to be fucked in your body ‘I screamed.

‘Get you gear off man, its mine now’ she said ‘OK OK and I hurried to strip down naked. She smacked my dick and said ‘Ill be using that soon’,

‘help me off with my bra she said’. I undid the clasp and she pulled the leather bra off. Sit on the bed she said, and from behind me she put my arms through the bra, it rested on my chest too small for me but soon my chest began to change, it got smaller in girth and started to produce women’s breasts, that started to fill the bra. The nipples were so damn sensitive and I moaned as she fastened the clasp.

She picked up her knickers and passed them to me and I put my leg through them and pull them up over my massive dick. It started to disappear and I became thinner as the knickers started to fall into place on my body. I was in an other world. She stood behind me and put the suspender belt on me, my hips changed to fit them. She then moved to the floor and put a stocking on my left foot which immediately reshaped itself and rolled them up attaching them to the belt. I couldn’t move or do anything it was like a permanent orgasm. She then did the other leg, and I could see I was now becoming her.

She passed me her one-piece leather she had been wearing it was very tight on her and showed her ass. I put my legs into the leather and pushed my left leg down and it went in really easy because of the nylons.

I could feel myself getting thinner and smaller and more curvaceous she came up behind me to help me to pull up the leather one piece so it was over my shoulders and I slid my new arms into it. I then pulled the zip all the way up from my new vagina up past my new huge tits and up to my neck

she then placed the Basque around my waist and started to lace it so it pulled my waist in making my ass look bigger it felt so so good. the rest was down to me as she was dressing in my gear. I picked up this stilettos and with the right one I pushed my new foot into it and pulled it right way up to my waist I got hold of the zip and pulled it up. I did exactly the same with the other leg.

I picked up her leather jacket and gloves and pulled them on. Was this real, I felt all over my new body, the tight leather, inside was incredible the feelings.

I walked over to the mirror and I saw her reflection, not Dave’s I had changed places so what Dave had said was true. I sat down somewhat shocked enjoying the new experience and watching her dress as me and gradually her looks her body her size all changed she was now the new Dave.

She (or he) wanted to go out on the bike again, this time to be in control to go to the same place and follow through with the same fuck session this afternoon, but she would be in control and I would be the one against the tree.

I was more than happy to oblige, I wanted to know how it felt. I followed him down to the bike, the new tight leathers rubbing my sensitive skin. Mt breasts we just so erotic as they moved in the bra and the leather knickers just slid backward and forward with my precum. I sat on the back for the first time and placed my arms around his waist. it was so sensual as I rested my breasts on his back

What an incredible experience when we got there, he helped me off the bike holding my ass as we went into the woods. It wasn’t easy walking in stilettos so he held me close, This body was reacting. When we got to the tree, he gently rested me against it, kissing me as he rubbed my breasts. I had my leathered hand on his leather dick and gradually unzipped him and pulled it out. I licked his precum from my leather glove as we kissed. His hands went in-between my legs and held my thighs lifting me off the ground so my vagina was opposite his erect dick, I pulled down my zip and pulled out my new breasts and then pushed the zip right down so it was opened right to my ass.

the next minute his huge dick found the target, I was in ecstasy waiting for an experience no man has ever had. He started to push and his head slid into me, My head went backwards in ecstasy as he pushed it right up to the hilt. After that he was backward and forward in and out till he shots loads inside of me and I orgasmed. my first female orgasm.

The whole experience was incredible; I understand why these two do this regularly. No way was I going to give this up.

We rode home, stripped off, returned to ourselves and got absolutely drunk and drugged.

All this time the real Dave was texting me. I ignored it. He was wondering where I was. Fuck him; I’m not going back to what I was. I’m Dave and I’m not changing back.

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