#also this man fucking ripped out his ceiling without checking what was up there????

[runawaymun]

.

#update on Mr “I build elevators for a living’ #he came back #accused me of constantly changing numbers on him and was like ‘ok how much do I need to cut off the beam? which is it? talk to your boss’ #calmly explained to him why this is all a terrible idea #he was Not Happy #but he’s clearly used to bullying women and getting what he wants that way #also this man fucking ripped out his ceiling without checking what was up there???? #anyway there’s live wires #I could have told him that #and he’s like ‘it’s fine right??? I’ll just leave them like that’ #sir that’s a fire code violation #he’s so stupid it hurts #why are you ripping out your kitchen ceiling if you don’t even have anything ordered yet?!

[idy-ll-ique]

Just Peachy.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of injuries and blood, overall very fluffy and cute

Requested: nope

Summary: in which Y/N gets hurt and Ransom is the perfect fiancé.

Author's Note: hiya peeps! ok im gonna say it,,, im a hoe for soft!ransom idc idc. enjoy!

---

"If anything happens while I'm at work, if you get hurt, don't hesitate to call me, alright? I'll be home in 15 minutes. Just call." Wise words by Ransom Drysdale, her fiancé.

Was she going to do that? Nope! Y/N grumbled from her position on the ground; she was walking down the stairs when she had tripped and fallen, ending up in a heap on the floor with one ankle definitely broken and a cut on her temple. Slowly, as the pain got too much to bear, she started crawling to the best of her abilities towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

As she neared the bathroom her hopes went up, until she saw the cupboard above the sink on top of which the first aid kit was kept. "Who fucking keeps it so high up?" she cursed under her breath as she grabbed the sink, slowly standing up, praying the sink wouldn't break under her as she applied her full body weight on the poor thing. She was successful.

Now putting her entire weight on her good foot, she reached up and, severely underestimating the weight of the kit, yanked it up, causing the heavy box to come crashing down on her. "Damn it, fucking son of a—" she cursed loudly as the box knocked her off her already weak feet. She fell on her back with a grunt and the heavy box landed on her chest, forcing her to exhale a breath. "Fuck."

Y/N forgot to hear a painful crunch.

She started lifting her hands to push the kit away when a sharp pain shot through her left wrist, causing her to wince. "Oh, great, another broken limb? Just what I needed. Great. Fucking peachy," she muttered and shoved the box away with her right hand, moving to sit up. She tried to crawl out of the bathroom but this time, with only one hand to support her, the task was perilous.

Ransom tapped his fingers on his desk at work in the tune of his favorite song, frowning at the blank open document in front of him. He was working on his second book, but today, inspiration was nowhere to be found. No ideas were coming to his head on how to proceed with the next chapter. I wonder what Y/N is doing, he thought and smiled softly at the thought of his fiancée.

Ransom and Y/N met at a party thrown by a mutual friend. He was being his usual, bitter self in the gardens outside the lavish mansion (yes, a mansion) when Y/N had approached him first. "Hi there, I'm Y/N. I noticed you were being too quiet and you slipped out, and wondered if you wanted to talk to someone?"

He wanted to push her away for talking to him like that, especially since he left the house for a reason, but instead he just smiled at her. A genuine smile. "I'd like that a lot." And so, they talked. Ransom was proud to announce that he had first fallen for her nature, her personality and her demeanor instead of her looks, which was what made their relationship special.

At least for Ransom, given the type of man he used to be.

Y/N was extremely gorgeous in his eyes. That was simply an added bonus. By the end of the party, both of them had walked into the house again and Ransom had put on quite a show about asking her out to dinner, which she readily agreed to. She knew what kind of a man he was; spoiled, full of himself and had a big attitude problem but that one talk with him changed her perception of Ransom Drysdale.

He was truly nice to the people he cared about, one of them being her. They talked for a short while and he was nothing short of polite, sweet and funny at times. He flirted endlessly since that was part of his personality but she didn't mind, she liked it, even. Ever since that day, they were inseparable and now, 4 years later, engaged.

"Fuck shit, fuck shit, fuck shit…" Y/N chanted as she slowly crawled to the living room, the pain in her body increasing by the minute. Finally putting her pride aside, she grabbed her phone off the couch and called Ransom, falling to the floor with deep breaths. Ransom's eyes snapped away from his laptop and landed on his phone when it started ringing.

Grinning, he picked up the call when Y/N's smiling face came into view. The moment she spoke, though, his grin dropped. "Hugh…" Y/N choked out, eyes filling with tears when the pain finally caught up to her. "Y/N? Bubba, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, immediately leaping to his feet. He shut the laptop, grabbed his coat and stormed out of his office, towards his car. Work be damned.

"It's— it's nothing. I'm sorry for calling, I know you're busy—" He nearly scoffed. "Babe, listen to me. You're more important. I'm coming home, I just left the office. Speak to me, bub, tell me," he insisted as he drove like a madman towards his house. "Just got hurt a little bit," Y/N mumbled and Ransom's heart broke. "Darling, I'll take care of it when I get home."

Thankfully, 15 minutes later, he reached home. Ransom hurriedly parked his car and threw open the front door, freezing when he saw his fiancée lying near the couch on the floor, the phone still in her hand as her eyes snapped away from the ceiling towards him. "Ransom," she stuttered and he walked towards her, kneeling next to her. His thumb swiped the blood on her temple.

God, did he want to punch her on her stupid, beautiful face for telling him she was just a little hurt. "Bub, what's this?" He picked her up and placed her on the couch, moving to take her hand but it fell limp… in a weird angle. His eyes widened. "Is your wrist broken?" he whispered and Y/N nodded, turning away from him. "And you had the fucking audacity to tell me it was nothing?!" he screamed.

She kept silent as he checked the rest of her body, finding out that her ankle was broken as well, the skin around it swollen black and blue. "You're a fucking dumbass, you know that?" he muttered as he called a doctor, sitting on the floor next to the couch. "I didn't want to disturb you." She was wheezing and he turned to her, only to see her clutching at her chest with a pained expression on her face.

"Baby?"

"Hurts." He sat up and ripped the t-shirt off her, eyes darkening when they landed on the bruise forming on her chest and between the valley of her breasts. "What the fuck happened when I was gone?" he hissed as he covered her up again. "I… I fell down the stairs first and broke my ankle," she began, fidgeting. "Well you should've called me then!" he insisted, exasperated.

"I didn't want to be a burden," she admitted in a small voice and Ransom's resolve broke. He teared up a bit and pressed his lips to hers, shaking his head. "You're not a burden, Y/N. I told you, if you're hurt at home, call me. I meant it. Even if it's a paper cut, call. Even if it's a skinned knee, call. I'm always here for you, and I always will be here." Y/N sniffled under him.

"Ransom…" He gently sat her up and sat next to her, only to pull her on his lap as he held her close. "Don't you dare think you're a burden ever again. I signed up for this. A burden is something you're not willing to carry. This? I'm willing to carry this to the end of the world," he whispered, squeezing her body as tightly as he could without crushing her. "I love you, Ran."

I love you, too.

"I know, sweetcheeks." And he grinned when her head shot up and she promptly slapped him on the cheek. "You're so full of yourself, Drysdale," she huffed. "You still love me," he hummed as she snuggled into his arms. "Fortunately for you, unfortunately for me, yeah, yes I do," she sighed.

Soon, the doctor arrived, patched her up and said the worst thing she had ever heard in her life.

"Bedrest for 2 weeks till the ankle heals."

And seeing Ransom's shit-eating grin had caused her to glare so viciously at him that even he had cowered. "Babe, doctor's orders, can't help it." After the doctor left, they were now laying side by side on their bed, staring at each other. "I can't just sit here with nothing to do!" she whined, snuggling closer to him. He put an arm around her, sighing.

"Well, face the reality, kitten. You're staying here and that's an order."

"Funny you think you can boss me around, sweetheart."

"I know I can't but this time, I will. I'll strap you down to the bed, mark my words," Ransom said with a roll of his eyes. "Kinky," Y/N snickered and Ransom kissed her nose with a smirk. "You are not getting up, Mrs Drysdale," he whispered and she pouted, jutting her lower lip out as far as she could along with giving him puppy eyes. "Please, Ran?" Ransom laughed.

"No." She groaned loudly. "Ugh, fine! I'll just get up when you go to work," she spoke smugly and Ransom turned to her, eyes wide. "Oh no you don't." He leaped up from the bed, making her whine. "Where are you going?! I need cuddles, Ran, I'm hurt!" she insisted and he got back into bed, taking out his phone. "I'm making calls to work. I'm gonna work from home now."

"You don't have to do that!" she insisted vehemently but Ransom refused to hear it. "I have to! To make sure your cute, dumb little ass stays in bed like the doctor said," he huffed. After one phone call, he sighed in relief and relaxed against the bed. "Pays to be a Thrombey, ya know," he chuckled, ruffling Y/N's hair as she snuggled into his side.

She was a mess. Her left hand was in cast, and so was her right ankle. After the doctor left she had taken off her t-shirt, leaving her in her sports bra, the wound on her chest a deep purple with flecks of red. There was also a bandaid on her temple for the small cut. "I figured." It was quiet for some time. "You never finished the story, babe. How did you get so hurt?"

"Well, first the stairs incident, I told you. After that, I was going to the bathroom to get the first aid kit but it was too heavy. I didn't know that so when I lifted it, it fell on me. I broke my wrist from hitting it on the floor too hard and the first aid kit fell on my chest," she huffed, "The pain was too much so I called you." Ransom frowned. "You should've called earlier."

"I know. Sorry."

"It's okay, baby, I'm here now," Ransom smiled, giving her a loving kiss on the top of her head. "I'm getting tired," she yawned as the adrenaline started wearing off. "Sleep." Ransom adjusted himself so he was now half-lying on the bed, back resting against the headrest as he gathered Y/N in his arms. She fell asleep a few minutes later.

---

"Ran…"

Y/N touched his side of the bed, only to be met with cold sheets instead of his warm body. She blinked the sleep away and sat up, rubbing her eyes and letting out a yawn. Running a hand through her messy hair, she stood up and limped towards the stairs. 2 weeks had passed and as the doctor said, her bedrest was over.

Her ankle had healed but not fully, while the wrist was still in a cast. The wound on her chest was also feeling loads better. She walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen area only to see Ransom cooking breakfast. "Ran," she whined and he turned around. "Y/N! Get your ass in bed, why are you here?"

"It got lonely." She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his bare back. "Alright, fine." He spun around and grabbed her waist, lifting her and placing her on the kitchen counter. "Sit here." Y/N smiled lazily as she placed her head on his shoulder, watching him cook. He was making eggs. Omelettes.

"How did you sleep?" he questioned when the silence stretched on. "I slept well. The ankle doesn't hurt as much, nor the wound on my chest. But the wrist…" She sighed and Ransom looked at her with a sad smile, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "It'll get better, I promise. I'm not going to stop taking care of you."

"I'd like that very much," she replied shyly and he grinned. It was true, Ransom had truly taken care of her well. Breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed everyday for 2 weeks, he worked in their room and they had cuddled more in the two weeks than they had in their entire relationship. Y/N was super happy with their arrangement.

Of course, sometimes Ransom would be too busy, leaving her alone in the room while he worked downstairs or had a meeting with someone. But then he'd make it up to her by offering more snuggles and kisses. "My best girl," he murmured, placing the omelette he was making on a plate. He then carried the plate to the dining room, leaving her on the kitchen counter.

He returned just as fast, gathering her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her temple as he carried her to the dining table as well. "You're strong," she teased and he huffed. "I better be, or all that working out will be for nothing." She laughed and he placed her down on a chair. "Eat well, I'll be back." With another kiss dropped to her head, he went back to the kitchen area.

Y/N wondered how she became so lucky to have him as her fiancé. Yeah, sure, Ransom wasn't a very nice person in general but to her, he was the best. The man who once called his aunt unsavory things punched someone in the face when they had the audacity to call her the same things. "You better watch your fucking mouth or I'm gonna break all your teeth."

It hadn't affected her much anyway but seeing Ransom's reaction had sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. He was ready to do anything for her. And she had to admit, lately, he was being very soft. She had noticed the changes in him around a year ago; he'd become… domestic, almost. It was fun to see him like that.

His family, well, they were less than pleased when Ransom had first introduced her to them. They thought she wasn't good enough for him and had even tried to break them down. But that had only made them stronger. Ransom was in love with her and nothing his family said was going to change that. "Y/N?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and blinked at Ransom. "Yeah?" He laughed and sat in front of her with his own plate of food. "You were lost in thoughts; the food's getting cold, honey." She cursed softly and laughed along, finally finishing her food.

How had she gotten so lucky?

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Show some love, likes and reblogs will be appreciated <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x female reader #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fluff #knives out #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

[bellsarefun]

𝕯𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈 (Dragon! Bakugo x Reader)

【ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ：(Y/N) (L/N) lives a surprisingly domestic life alongside her husband, the powerful hot-headed dragon Katsuki Bakugo.】

【ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Dragon! Katsuki Bakugo x Female! Reader】

【ｒａｔｉｎｇ：PG-13 — All characters featured in this story have been aged up over eighteen. Also, there is gore and blood in this, so if you are upset by that this isn’t for you.】

【ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ：2.6k 】

【Ｎｅｘｔ　Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ: Part 2】

(Y/N)’s hands kneaded soft, fluffy, pale dough on a stone counter top fitted in smooth grey stone, the flour falling like snow on her pale beige apron. Her mind wandered with the routine task; make the bread, let it rise, and then bake for one hour—she had done it all before.

Grabbing a nearby bread pan, she eased the freshly kneaded dough into the oak wood bowl. Her hands wiping the bits and pieces of stray batter on the fabric apron tied tightly around her waist. Once she had cleaned them in a nearby water basin, she laid a tea towel over the mouth of the bowl to rise for a few hours.

‘Finally, done. I can take a minute to relax.’ The woman thought to herself, untying the nice bow created by the laces of her apron. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get back early.’

Hanging the apron on a nearby hook near the entrance to the makeshift kitchen, she stretched her arms high over her head. Her neck muscles protested angrily as they were strained, but she smiled at the relief shooting across her form.

She looked around the kitchen, her (E/C) eyes scanning the beaten stone counter tops, the haphazardly hanging plants from the ceiling, and scratched wooden shelves for any sign of misplacement or grime. The rocky interior walls casted dancing shadows from the many flickering candles around the room.

Satisfied with her keen observation, she hummed to herself contently. Her feet spinning on their heels as she walked out of the kitchen, making a mental note to light the slab, stone oven afterward.

The kitchen lead into a larger room, large wooden support beams held up the ceiling in every corner. There was a large rounded bed pressed against the wall to her left, large furs and pelts were piled in a heap on the bed. On the farthest wall led a corridor where bright sunlight streamed through from the outside—a stairway could be seen in the corridor leading into a dimly lid spiral down.

(Y/N) noted a few of the candles had blown out in the room, presumably the breeze from outside had extinguished the weak flames. She sighed to herself, straightening out her white blouse and suspenders while she moved to a small table across from the bed.

A small green book embroidered with gold detailing waited for her on the scratched dark wood of the table. Her hands picking up the book she seated herself on one of the chairs, but she soon felt herself falling back onto the cold ground with a painful thud.

(Y/N) groaned, holding the side of her head carefully as the world spun around her in a warm blur. Her eyes managing to focus on the chair who had spitefully broken under her the moment she sat down.

“For fucks sake, of course.” She cursed under her breath, using her elbows to hoist herself up from her spot on the floor. Her hand searching for the book that had been flung from her hand, finding it a few feet away.

Looking at the chair, one of the legs had given out and the scratched up, claw-marked, and singed wood wasn’t able to hold weight any longer. It was a wonder how it didn’t break sooner.

“Fucker almost killed me.” (Y/N) voiced allowed to no one in particular, the stabbing pain in her head not receding and only increasing as she pushed herself to standing.

‘I really need to find other furniture that the ones he steals from his raids. A new set of chairs is something I’d pay money for.’ She thought to herself, running a through her hair and picking out pieces of dirt and splinters from her (H/C) locks.

A large roar shook the entire inside of the cave, the forceful vibration almost sending (Y/N) tumbling once again. The book nearly falling from her grasp, but this time she clenched it tightly in her fingers. The sound of scraping stone echoed wildly in (Y/N)’s ears, her face scrunching up at the unpleasant sound.

Her hand was quickly placed on the rocky wall beside her, watching the furniture, that had been fashioned to the wall with wires, to make sure nothing broke. ‘That bastard just had to come now.’

“Tiny! Where the fuck are you? I’m back if you hadn’t noticed.” The loud booming voice emanated from the corridor, the pissed of tone making (Y/N) roll her eyes. She scrambled to the doorway of the kitchen, her book forgotten on the table, and she checked to make sure the bread bowl hadn’t fallen off the counter—luckily, it hadn’t.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, you impatient bastard wait one minute!” (Y/N) called back to the voice, her eye brows narrowing as she noticed the plates and bowls that had fallen from their wooden shelves.

“Whaa? You calling me a bastard, you better watch your fucking mouth, human.” The voice responded sourly, the unmistakable growl that edged it’s way into the tone making (Y/N) chuckle lightly to herself.

She walked toward the corridor of the room, noting that most of the candles has blown out in the rumbling. The rocky hallway was rather small and led into a larger cave with a ceiling that stretched meters above her head. There were no stalactites, like they had been broken off purposely.

Sunlight streamed into the large cave from outside, giving it enough natural light to see around without any aid of candles or lanterns. In the corner of the cave sitting with his legs crossed, his hands tearing at the meat of a freshly killed deer, was Bakugo.

(Y/N) rubbed the back of her neck in defeat, seeing the blood already beginning to pool around the carcass of the poor animal.

“I’m here and already, you’ve made a mess.” She commented in disgust, walking over to the man as he turned around to face her—lips and cheeks smeared with thick red blood.

Bakugo swallowed the meat in his mouth, the hind leg of the deer had been ripped off the animal and was being held in his hands.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a fucking clean freak.” He retorted, his mouth opening and taking a large squelching bite of the raw meat. “Only humans would worry about shit like this.”

(Y/N) hummed, rolling her eyes as she scanned him up and down—he would definitely need a bath after he was done his “meal.” The blood soaked into his pants and the beautiful white fur of his long red cloak around his shoulders. The red sticky ooze seeped over his toned, muscled body.

“If you’re eating all of it, just give me tender loins to cook please.” (Y/N) sighed defeatedly, the smell of raw bloody meat hitting her nostrils in an unrelenting attack of metal and gore. 

“You humans and your risk of worms.” He grumbled under his breath, his hand reached toward the back of the deer and shoved his hand into the back—through the pelt. (Y/N) winced at the sound of his hand pulling out the two strips of meat, his other hand shoving another mouthful of meat into his mouth. No matter how much (Y/N) has seen him rip flesh from bone, it still made her nauseous sometimes.

“You’re looking green, Tiny. Go back inside, if you’re going to vomit your insides out again.” Bakugo said, his crimson eyes scanning up and down (Y/N)’s pale face. His hand threw over the two pieces of tenderloin, the meat landing on the ground with a splat.

(Y/N) nodded her head silently, crouching down and delicately picking up the strips of deer. The blood was still warm in her palms and she groaned at the thought of getting the red stains on her nice blouse.

“If any of this gets on my shirt, I’m slipping laxative in your water.” (Y/N) threatened, hurrying toward the corridor once again and she heard the outraged exclamation of Bakugo behind her. 

“You better not, fucking tiny ass human. I will rip your precious books to smithereens.” Bakugo shouted after her with a growl, the woman rolling her eyes around her skull in response.

“Okay, dragon boy, let’s see you fucking try. I’ll bleach your cape pink.” (Y/N) jabbed back, calling over her shoulder at Bakugo who continued to munch on the meat. She could hear him grumbling curses under his breath and she giggled softly to herself.

(Y/N) hurried through the corridor, through the room, and into the kitchen. She could see a drop of blood preparing to fall onto the floor she zoomed toward a clean bucket and dropped the meat into it. Her palms leaned on the counter for support, for some reason the smell of the fresh meat made her feel sick to her stomach.

She sharpened a knife and began trimming the meat on the counter. It wasn’t long after she heard Bakugo come stomping through the corridor and she leaned out of the door to see the muddy tracks behind him.

“Clean your shoes off next time, I swear you lived in a barn.” (Y/N) called out, her lips frowned at the sight of the freshly mopped floors being covered in brown muck. Bakugo paused, turning around to look at the mud he was dragging through the room before he smirked deviously.

“I was raised in a cave.” He said, continuing to stride toward (Y/N) with an evil glint in his eye and her frown turned down into a scowl. “What’s wrong, Tiny? You’re looking a little pissed off.”

(Y/N) sighed and shook her head, looking at the blood still wet on his body.

“Don’t take another step, clean off the blood. We have bathing pools for a reason, dipshit.” (Y/N) demanded, pointing her sharpened bloody knife toward him. Bakugo faltered for a moment, a dangerous frown forming on his face.

“I’m not fucking that filthy. I washed yesterday, just like you asked, remember?” Bakugo retorted, his arms crossing over his chest. (Y/N) hummed at his rather adorable expression and continued flaying the strips of white fat from the meat.

“You’re covered in blood, Katsuki Bakugo, and that means your washing.” (Y/N) said, her eyes glanced down where she was happy to see that her work was pretty much finished.

Bakugo rolled his eyes and grumbled his way back toward the corridor, she was pretty sure she heard a imitation of her own voice. She simply giggled and packaged the meat in parchment paper to save for stew later and dropped any dirty dishes in the sink-bucket.

He returned a few minutes later, dripping wet and clothes in his arms. Bakugo wasn’t wearing a thing and (Y/N) noticed right away, her face turning a lovely shade of rose red.

“Okay! That’s- No clothes- Your other shirts are in the dresser!” (Y/N) said, looking away from the spectacle of a naked Bakugo. She heard his footsteps approach her and felt strong arms wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her snugly against him.

“I’ll get changed later.” He muttered against her skin, the warmth of his breath tickling the skin of her neck. “Nothing happened while I was gone?” (Y/N) was frozen in her spot, the feeling of the water dampening in her back, and her face flushing with a beautiful color of red.

“N-Nothing, the den’s been quiet as ever.” (Y/N) answered, her voice stuttering at the beginning but she managed to focus on the cutting board in front of her. “No one’s touched your precious gold horde.”

Bakugo hummed, his chin resting on top of her head, and he snuggled his face into her hair. His hands wandered about her waist, his toned chest pressing against the small of her back.

“I wasn’t worried about the gold.” He muttered quietly, the growl at the end of his voice made (Y/N)’s arms explode in goose bumps. “You smell different, tiny. Did you use the milk soap you bought a while ago?”

She paused for a moment.

“No? My smell changed?” (Y/N) asked, she had never really gotten used to the draconic abilities of her husband. Bakugo nipped at her earlobe absentmindedly, he’d always held this animalistic quality that he brought everywhere in their relationship.

“Your cinnamon smell is just different, alright? It smells like milk mixed with cinnamon.” Bakugo said, his eyes watched her hands move rhythmically as she finished up ridding the meat of any fatty tissue.

“I still don’t know why you humans are so picky.” Bakugo scoffed, shaking his head as let go of her waist and walked out of the kitchen in order to hopefully put some pants on.

“The fatty parts make the meat chewy.” (Y/N) said honestly, her eyes glanced over to Bakugo’s form but she refused to look for long—the blazing warmth in her cheeks forcing her too.

The conversation continued for awhile, (Y/N) was busily hurrying around the kitchen and chopping vegetables for the stew. Bakugo was making himself useful and watching her whisking around the kitchen from his spot sitting on one of the counters.

The stew shimmered on top of the stone oven, the bread was baking in the rocky blazing insides happily. The smell permeated the air and the warm smell making (Y/N) sigh contentedly.

“Shitty hair and pink bitch want to come over for dinner, they want to taste human cooking.” Bakugo started, the subjects of his yapping changed like the wind—it could go from hating Midoriya, to how great he is, or how he caught the deer earlier.

“Of course, I said no-”

“Why don’t you invite them over? They haven’t been over since fall, the winter’s been tough on them.” (Y/N) said, stirring the stew in the pot and sprinkling in a few herbs and spices into the shimmering pot. Bakugo scoffed.

“Hell no! They’re messier than me. That shitty hair is really fucking annoying.” He retorted, his posture straightened to a stiff board, and he muttered quietly under his breath. “He’s always touching you.”

“What is it with you dragons? Always so overprotective of your ‘mates.’“ (Y/N) sighed, looking toward her husband who huffed and shoved himself off of the counter. His shimmering ruby eyes glaring darkly in her direction, stalking over to her.

“Mates are a big fucking deal, tiny, I’ve told you this before.” (Y/N) nodded her head, her lack of listening made Bakugo snatched her wrist and pulled her roughly against his body.

“Dragons mate forever. You are mine, forever, you fucking idiot.” He growled, her smaller body was pressed flush against his. (Y/N)’s eyes widened at his serious tone, he usually wasn’t this sentimental and she expected a scoff from him instead.

Her heart fluttered in het chest, a large smile crossing her features

“I understand, Katsuki.” (Y/N) simply said, embracing her husband close to her and enjoyed the peaceful moments that followed. Two years ago, she didn’t expect to find herself here and married to the dragon that had quite rudely crashed through her house—hurting himself in the process.

For months, she nursed him back to health and somehow managed to love him in that time. Now, there they are, two years later and married. If (Y/N)’s younger self had a conversation with older (Y/N), she was sure that younger her would call her insane.

“I love you, dragon boy.” She said softly, her hand running through his spikey blond hair. Bakugo huffed and he laughed cockily.

“Who doesn’t love me?” A swift jab to the ribs made him cough and he nipped at her neck in retaliation. “Heh, I love you, tiny human.”

#my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha katsuki bakugo #bnha katsuki bakugo x reader #mha katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #au #fanfiction au #bakugo x reader #oneshot

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Overworked

Fandom: DC Pairing: Batsis!reader x Batfamily Word count: 3k Summay: Your on your way to be the next C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, but the road is filled with challenges and a lack of self-care that your family can’t help but worry about (based on this) Warning: Slight angst and unconciousness, near death experience Requested by a pretty great Anon: Can you do a one shot of future ceo batsis overworking herself with long days and vigilante nights and she’s basically not sleeping or taking care of herself and batfams gotta step in and make her listen to reason.

The cup of coffee had already grown cold, the liquid inside it stale and surely undrinkable, when you reached for it. Hardly the first few drops of the liquid had ran down your throat when you realized the horrible transition it had gone through from the nectar of productivity to the lovechild of tar and sulfur, your face distorting into an expression of utmost disgust as you quickly put it back down and besides the other six paper-cups that were all half-filled at most. You sighed when you realized that it must have already been an hour since you had made - and after completely forgot about - the coffee. It really was a cursed circle that you had been going through for the last eight hours. You made a cup, brought it to your office, drank a bit, forgot about it and realized how horrible it now tasted half an hour or so later and then you took at least another twenty minutes before deciding to head for your next cup.  Was it already time for the next one? No, it could wait a bit longer. You turned your attention back to the screen in front of you - or rather the three screens - and let your eyes fly over all the data and graphs and numbers that you had to have in a presentable form by next morning for the monthly debriefing. This time would be your first time without Bruce on the sidelines and overlooking your work, a fact that made you feel proud at your accomplishment while simultaneously scaring you to the core. You knew that logically it wouldn’t be different than the last two - which you had also done basically solo with Bruce only sitting beside you silently observing - but there was still that internal voice that told you that without your father by your side the board would rip you apart until nothing was left over. You didn’t know what exactly caused it but suddenly you felt dizzy and the letters and numbers in front of you started swimming around, turning into absolute gibberish, the neon-lights of the screen hurting your eyes. No, not the screens themselves, it was the contrast between the brightly lit screens and the darkness that spread out behind them. It was only then that you let your gaze move behind the confines of your office and through the glass doors to the rest of the office space that was completely engulfed in darkness. Now you realized that it wasn’t only that, it was more, there was no soul wandering the floor and no sound beside the ever-so-steady growling of the computer fan and the clicking of your keyboard. “Fuck,” you couldn’t help but mutter when you looked at the clock beside you which already read half past nine. Which meant that you only had half an hour at most before your patrol started. Ignoring the pounding that built up in your head you tried to remember how it was possible for the time to surprise you like that. You had come to work at eight that morning and had spent two hours calling around, checking on contracts and meeting with potential clients, then you had your daily briefing with the department heads - which had extended into almost an hour because Brad from PR really couldn’t get his shit together - then you had to talk to HR about finding a possible replacement for Brad from PR and after you had started working on the numbers. And now you were standing in the elevator on your way to the car park. Did you have Lunch today? No, you had to skip Lunch break for Brad. What about Breakfast? No, wait, you forgot about that too. You rubbed your eyes and felt the need to curse rise again when you realized that you’d have to get right back to the numbers as soon as you had finished patrol which meant that you wouldn’t be able to sleep yet again. What was that? The fourth night in a row? Your only solace was the possibility that you’d maybe finish quickly and get a good one to two hours before you had to be back in the office, but deep inside you knew that it was unlikely. It hadn’t worked the last four nights either. But you’d pull through. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. After tomorrow’s meeting you’d go home at a normal time and indulge yourself in that full meal your stomach had been begging you for, sleep for a full eight hours and maybe even watch a movie if you felt especially crazy. Just for one night you’d really let yourself go. But for that to be possible you had to bite your teeth together and stay on your path.

The elevator arrived at the car park and you quickly rushed to your car and made your way to your apartment which - for maximum efficiency - was only a five minute drive away from the Wayne Ent. Tower, where you quickly rushed into the hidden side room to change into your gear. As you checked the time you realized that you still had a good five minutes before you had to check in with your father and you had to very quickly decide between your two options: quickly eat something or make and drink another coffee. You decided for the second one, but as you made your way to the kitchen counter where your coffee machine stood you caught a glimpse of the unopened stack of mail on the kitchen island and with a sigh decided to just get that over with, effectively ignoring both your previous options.  The letters were rather quickly sorted through and before you knew you were standing on a nearby ceiling and activated your comm. “Y/H/N reporting from area 7.4 in central Gotham.” “Good evening Y/H/N, it’s Oracle, I’ll be your voice in the background tonight,” Barbara’s voice echoed through your ears and after exchanging the usual greetings she quickly gave you the location of a robbery in progress. With quick, experienced movements you jumped over the roofs until you stood on the ceiling of a jewelry which was - luckily for you - made out of glass. There was only a single man in the darkness of the store below you, using a flashlight to clean out the display cases, and he wasn’t especially silent so you used the noise to your advantage as you opened one of the few ceiling windows that were openable and let yourself glide down with a hook. “I think you have to pay for that,” you interrupted the robber who quickly turned around, his face hidden by a black, knitted hat with badly cut out holes for the eyes. He was definitely no professional. The man - obviously panicked - got out a gun with shaky hands and pointed it at you, but before he could even think of shooting you had thrown a batarang and the piece of weaponry landed on the floor too far from him that he could reach it before you. Seemingly not seeing another option the man started charging at you and you just sighed and said: “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” but by the end of the sentence his fist tried to make contact with your masked face, but you caught his hand expertly and used the momentum to twist it behind his back, grabbing the other one too and with quick movements you had used a pair of handcuffs that you had in your bat-belt™ to chain him to one of the displays before letting him go. “If you’ll excuse me for a second,” you mumbled before walking a few feet away where you told Barbara to contact the police and tell him they didn’t need to hurry. You had just finished the conversation and muted your mic again when the same dizziness as earlier in the office hit you but this time tenfold. It was like the ground was swaying below you and you had to take ahole of a countertop so that you didn’t fall. “Hey, are you okay, you look kinda sick,” the robber asked in an actual concerned voice, but you didn’t answer, instead you quickly used the hook you had attached earlier to let yourself swing out of the window again. “Y/H/N?” Barbara contacted you and you tried your best to swallow down the weakness in your muscles that suddenly seemed to grow over you. “Yeah?” “Bats asks you to meet him on the roof of the Jefferson building down in third.” “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” 

You gave yourself another few seconds to collect yourself before you did as you were told and made your way over to the roof of the builduing Babs’ had told you to go to, the dark silhouette of your father’s persona already expecting you there. Like you had done so often before, you started to run towards the edge of the building next to it - the one you were currently on - and made yourself ready to jump, only for your muscles to suddenly give up on you and the only thing you felt next was the rushing of air as you were falling and then the sudden stop and pain in your wrist as something caught you. Bruce quickly pulled you up and even with the cowl you could see the concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice worried which definitely sounded uncanny in connection with what he was wearing. “Uhm yeah, my legs just kind of gave up on me there,” you tried to wave it off with a chuckle, not wanting him to see that you were frightened to your core. “Y/H/N?” he asked again in that voice he had always used when you tried to sneak out at night and lied when he had caught you. He hadn’t used that voice in so long. “I’m serious Batman, everything is okay, it’s no big deal,” you huffed - now defensive - and stood up with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “It is when you suddenly fall from a roof. What would have been if I hadn’t been there to catch you?” he asked, now slight anger edging through the worry, but you couldn’t blame him. “I’m sorry, okay, it won’t happen again,” you sighed and hoped he would just let it go, especially considering that the dizziness started to return. Along with it came the heaviness of your eyelids that you had gotten used to that somehow now seemed to actively pull you down. You raised your hand to rub your eyes - hoping it would put some more live back into you - but even that slight movement seemed to be too much as the world started swaying again and you felt gravity getting the best of you. Something black started moving in front of you and you weren’t quite sure if you were falling unconscious or if it was Bruce who came towards you to catch your falling form, but it turned out to be latter when you found yourself being lowered to the ground and propped against the end of one of the vantilator shafts of the building with Bruce kneeling beside you. “You’re definitely not okay,” he muttered as he held your face in his hands to get you to look at him. “I’m just a little bit tired is all,” you tried to argue, but your voice was weak and almost started lulling. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?” You shut your eyes in concentration as you tried to remember. “Wait I know the answer to that one,” you muttered but almost fell asleep, only being kept away when your head started falling downwards, “What did you ask again?” “When was the last time you slept an entire night?” he tried again, this time more specific. “What day is it today?” “Friday.” “Then I think it was Monday,” you whispered since suddenly the loud noise of your voice seemed to pierce your skull apart. “You were on Patrol from nine to two a.m. on Monday,” Bruce disagreed and you almost chuckled. “Yes, and after I went to bed and got a full five hours. That’s pretty good isn’t it,” you couldn’t help but smile almost proudly, your mind starting to fog up with bubblegum coloured smoke that made it impossible to think straight. “And when did you last eat?” Bruce sighed, worry and recognition crossed his face. He himself must have known too well what you were going through. You averted your eyes and looked down at your lap where you played with your hands like an embarrassed child. “Also Monday,” you mumbled and Bruce immediately shook his head. “That’s not okay, you have to take care of yourself Y/H/N, you’re no good for anyone when you don’t.” You weren’t sure if it was only tired paranoia that made you see only disappointment on your fathers face - that ignored all the worry - but suddenly the prospect of having disappointed him, the one thing that you were trying to avoid ever since you could remember, made tears well up in your eyes and your lip quiver, “‘M sorry,” you could just press out before the tears started rolling. Bruce immediately regretted his tone of voice, but he knew nothing he would say now would be remembered by you so he just pulled you up from the roof and started carrying your already passing out form towards the batmobil. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow…”

The feeling of waking up rested was foreign to you, especially since it wasn’t one of your four separate alarms that woke you, and caused you to immediately sit up, only to be pulled back into the mattress. Your eyes flew open and explored your surroundings. The chandelier above you, with rainbow-coloured glass-pendants and the dark blue dealing with the painted stars immediately calmed you again. This room was your childhood bedroom which meant that you were in the manor, which in turn meant that you were safe. For a moment the calm was pretty nice, but then you remembered your case of immovability and looked down at where your wrists came out from under the cover. They were bound by silky bands and a move of your feet told you that the same was the case for them. While you were contemplating ways to get out of the unbelievably good, but still comfortable restraints, the door started to open and you turned as well as you could towards where you smallest (figuratively and literally) brother entered. “Your awake?” he asked in his usual stern voice, but you had known him for long enough to recognize the hidden worry. “Yeah, mind telling me why I’m strapped to my bed?” “Forced self-care,” he stated matter-of-factly and you couldn't help but narrow your eyes. “What?” “You fainted on Patrol, father says you haven’t eaten or slept since last Monday so we took measures to make sure you wouldn’t kill yourself with how careless you are.” You wanted to reply with something snarky, but you were well aware that what he said was probably right. “I’m sorry okay, I just had a lot on my plate, but you’re right and I feel a lot better now that I had some sleep, so you can let me go again,” you tried to smooth your way out of there, but you had the slight suspicion that it was hopeless. “I respect your try but you will not be let go until father is certain that you’re better.”

“But I am better!” you whined and tried yet again to wiggle yourself out of the restraints. Damian just raised his eyebrows unimpressed. He walked over to a chair that was standing beside your bed and as you followed him with your eyes you noticed the shutted curtains and the small gap of light between them. “What time is it anyways?” you sighed and felt surprise when you had to hold back a yawn. “It’s about 8 a.m.” Your eyes widened. That meant you had enough time to get to the office! “Please Dami, you gotta let me go, I have to get to the board meeting,” you begged, starting to wiggle more and more, but to no avail. “But Ukthi, you-” “No you don’t understand! This is my first time alone, I can’t let dad down, I have to be able to pull through with this if I ever want to make it as the next C.E.O. Dad wasn’t allowed a break either.” “Ukthi-” “Damian please, please, I promise I’ll come back right after and take care of myself, but I have to do this if I-” “Ukthi! The board meeting was yesterday. You slept for over 24 hours!” Damian shouted to get you to stop interrupting him and when you realized the weight of his words you sunk back down into the pillow. “What? But I was supposed to…” “Father just postponed it, he didn’t leave room to argue, he also gave you the week off from patrol and work.” If your hands weren’t bound you’d probably sunken your face into them in shame. You tried to hold tears back as you looked away from Damian. “Y/N?” he asked and came closer. “I’m sorry, It’s just- how am I supposed to handle being the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprise if I can’t even handle little things like board meetings? How am I supposed to take after dad?” “Y/N, you keep on saying how father managed to lead the business on his own, and how you should be able too, but you’re not alone. You’re not supposed to be either. You have all of us by your side for a reason and we won’t leave you alone with this. We’re here for you and you shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for help. We’re family, we love you and we want to support you with all we can. “For now, how about you rest a little bit more and then I’ll let you out of bed to get a proper meal, Alfred made your favorite. After that I’m afraid Father will want to have a word with you.” “Oh shucks….”

#Batsis #Batsis!reader #batsis reader #x batsis #x reader #dc #dc x reader #dc comic #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam x batsis #damian wayne #bruce wayne #robin #batman #barbara gordon #oracle #alfred pennyworth #red robin #tim drake #oneshot #fluff #angst

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

le deux, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: One rebel from the waist down plus Jeon Jungkook in a sleeveless tee equals two in the back of a car, fucking like animals as Jungkook takes pictures of it all on your phone. Per your request, of course.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, semi-public (car) sex, photography/filming of sex, m-receiving oral, cowgirl); non-idol!BTS; reader has a dimple and Jungkook’s inner monologue is basically in love with it; PWP? you decide happy jungkook day! :D 2021.01.09

–

Jeon Jungkook thought he knew what he was getting into, but he sure as hell didn’t.

When he stepped through the gate, he thought, damn, it’s awesome that so many girls decided to wear such skimpy clothes to a rock concert. He figured he’d see some bouncing titty, flashes of ass, maybe the loss of some underwear because the lead singer was hot as hell. Dude was ripped and tattooed like nobody’s business. Dream body for Jungkook, to be honest.

If only his mom would let him get that many tattoos.

The right sleeve was already pushing it though. He’d have to ease her into it slowly.

Jungkook had gone alone, because his friends weren’t really into rock the way he was, but that was fine with him. He liked being able to enjoy himself without thinking too much about other’s opinions, even if they were his friends. Got to wear a sleeveless band shirt, tight black jeans, left his long black hair in a half-ponytail, and decorated his wrists with silver bracelets. He would have been more covered up if he was with his friends – didn’t want to make them jealous with all the stares he was getting with his tattooed right arm, after all.

And my body in general, he thought amusedly.

If he was younger, Jungkook would have been shyer about leaving himself so exposed like this, but he wasn’t, so instead he merely gave the stares a cocky smirk.

What was the point of working out if he couldn’t show it off a little?

He spied his seat and noticed there wasn’t anyone sitting right next to him yet. Odd. He had purchased relatively close seat and the concert was sold out. Hm. Well, maybe he should get some beer before it started.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.

She was dressed like every other girl at the concert; smokey eyes, dark lips, black choker, shredded black crop top with an equally short fishnet shirt under it, pleated black miniskirt with silver buttons. A black strap over her chest. Knee-high black boots with buckles running all the way up her calf. Bare thighs and naked waist on display. Nice.

But that wasn’t why he paused.

He paused because she had a tattoo.

A single tattoo of black script around her waist. Her body was facing him, tilting her head at her phone, then looking down at the floor, at the seat row numbers. The tattoo was in English and Jungkook could read, a rebel.  She turned, facing her left, and looked up, counting the stairs. He realized the black strap connected to a clear waist bag that she was wearing on her back. She twisted a little so he got a good view of her back, the part where it trimmed down to the curve of her round, perky ass.

from the waist down.

Holy shit.

She had a rebel from the waist down tattooed around her midriff.

His eyebrows rose so far up into his forehead in shock that he didn’t even realize she was crawling over the people to her seat. She had black, pointed nails and silver chains draped over the back of her hands. A charming smirk, dimple flashing as she apologized for bumping into people. None of them seemed to mind, probably because her skirt was flipping up and revealing the strappy black velvet panties she was wearing. She seemed not to notice.

She plopped herself into her seat and grinned, checking her phone again. She had a black case with a nine-pointed star on it. Held her phone up and took a selfie with that killer smile, her tongue between her lips.

With a start, Jungkook realized she was sitting in his seat.

-

“Hey, you’re sitting in my seat.”

She sat up and looked around, counting down the row. “Aw shit, you’re right. Sorry.”

She got up and flopped into the seat next to him. Jungkook sat down, careful with his beer and water bottle. The chair was still warm from her body heat. That would have bothered him if he wasn’t staring at her open legs. She sat unapologetically, man-spreading in her seat, thighs laid out like a five-star buffet.

If she asked, Jungkook would gladly partake in said buffet.

Her hands were holding her phone and she tucked her tongue in between her teeth as she typed furiously, nails clacking against the glass, lowering the phone to her lap. A long text exchange was visible on the screen.

“Argument?” Jungkook pondered out loud.

She chuckled darkly. “More like, ‘I ain’t sitting on your dick for any amount of money, you piece of shit, leave me alone.’ You think men could get the fucking hint.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Block him?”

She scratched her chin, sending the message. “I would, but if I do, my parents are going to have a fit. They’re trying to set me up with him.”

The show was almost starting. He could hear the instruments warming up.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

She raised her head and grinned at him. Her right dimple winked at him with her smirk. Damn. Jungkook loved dimples.

“Me? The same thing as I always do. Find someone to fuck and send him pictures.”

-

So that’s why Jeon Jungkook was in the back of this random woman’s car, gasping as he was getting the best head of his life.

And struggling to take a picture of it.

“Holy shit,” he hissed, one of his hands hitting the glass of the car window as she took him deeper, tongue running underneath the length, hips swaying, her waist tattoo clearly in his vision. a rebel from the waist down. She had told him her name earlier, maybe when they were making out in the concert seats halfway through the show, maybe when they were practically dry humping each other by the end of the concert. Not the way Jungkook thought he was ending this particular event and he would probably buy another ticket so he could actually listen to the songs properly.

The head of his cock was jammed in the back of her throat, continually being squeezed by her tight, wet vice.

Jungkook wasn’t complaining though, if you get his drift.

Her eyes flickered up and she smirked around his cock, right dimple appearing as her tongue slid out from her plump lips and curled around the base.

Jungkook snapped a photo.

“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he mumbled, turning the screen around to show her. She chuckled low in her throat, vibrating the head of his cock. Rutted him a few more times, making him moan at the euphoric sensation.

She removed her mouth and he almost whimpered, but she was speaking and he was listening, staring at her dimple and glistening pink lips.

“You’re good at taking pictures, Jungkook,” she murmured. “Get one of me on your balls.”

She lowered her head, lifting his cock. Black nails, silver chains, and long fingers wrapping around his stiff length, lifting his wet cock and placing her tongue onto his balls. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. Fuck, he had never felt a better tongue, swiping back and forth, getting the full expanse of his balls as her other hand came up to smush them against her lips. He sucked in a breath and spread his thighs more, seeing saliva drip down, hitting the black towel she had spread out in her backseat.

Evidently, she had planned this shit.

Jungkook lifted her phone and pressed the circular button.

Her eyes flickered up at him again, smirk on display, tongue fully extended and smacking his balls back and forth, jiggling them with the wet pink tip. Hand firmly gripping his cock. The moans coming out of him could rival the best porn out there. His chest was shuddering, his sleeveless shirt forgotten and crumpled in her front passenger’s seat – he couldn’t really remember how it got there to be honest – and his pants were balled up around his knees, making this somewhat uncomfortable but also hot as hell.

Jungkook snuck a glance at her phone and realized he was taking a fucking video the entire time instead of a photo. Shit. He furrowed his brows and stopped it, switching back to photo mode, and took a picture the second she swallowed one of his balls in her mouth.

“Fuck!”

He nearly dropped the phone on her face as she sucked, eyes sparkling with mirth, doing some kind of crazy figure-eight maneuver with her tongue as he lowered his hand, gasping for breath as she pulled her head back and forth, jerking him slowly at the same time.

“I… might have taken a video,” Jungkook panted out, head tipping back and staring at the ceiling of her car as she switched sides, sucking harder and tonguing more intensely, back and forth, up and down, so wet he was losing his mind.

She hummed onto his fucking nuts and he almost exploded into her hand.

His hips rose involuntarily and the base of his cock smacked her in the nose. She had the audacity to laugh, releasing his balls, spit dripping down her chin. She cleaned it off with her forearm, also letting go of his cock.

“Let me see,” she chuckled, wiping her hand on the towel before grabbing her phone from him. Replayed the video. His own moans filled the car, far too fucking loud. Jungkook’s cheeks heated with embarrassment as she planted her warm, clothed pussy onto his naked thigh, bouncing on it as she gleefully watched herself making out with his balls.

“Nice. I like it,” she chuckled.

“You’re crazy,” Jungkook snickered. And she was, but this was also fun too.

The dimple came back. “Want me to sit on your cock?”

Fuck yeah, he did. “Least you can do for me, since I provided such excellent service.”

She lifted her hips from his thigh and handed him her phone back. Took the two sides of her strappy velvet panties and pulled down. His eyes widened seeing the long string of juices from the black velvet to her crotch, snapping against her thigh, the strong scent of arousal so apparent it suddenly dominated all others.

“Someone is gonna see you,” he breathed, seeing the reflection of her ass clearly in the window, in view of the vehicles around them. People were in their cars, waiting to leave. Maybe some of them were watching this crazy woman jumping on his dick. The thought made him smirk.

She reached over to the center of the car and pulled out a condom from the cup holder.

This woman was definitely insane and Jungkook was loving it.

She grinned back at him, ripping it open right in front of his face. Lowered her hands and rolled it down on his throbbing cock. He exhaled in satisfaction, watching her ass lower and slide her pussy to him, lifting her skirt so he could see. Clean shaven. Probably for the pictures. Damn. That was a pretty pussy, and she was soaking wet.

“You like me that much?” Jungkook teased.

She pressed the head against her glistening slit and placed her tongue in between her teeth, dimple reappearing.

“Fuck yeah. You’re hot as hell.”

He didn’t expect her to say that. His ears burned and his cock pulsed with need. He also didn’t expect her to shove his cock into her that roughly either, jerking her hips into his and pressing down. She chuckled at his breathless gasp, settling her thighs against his waist.

“Take a picture for me,” she purred. “Gonna show him how deep I can take your big cock, Jungkook.”

Did he have a big dick? He knew he was bigger than average for sure, but it wasn’t like he measured and compared sizes on the daily. Also, he tended to get bigger and harder the hornier he was and right now he was maximum aroused because her pussy was clenching around his dick, burying it all the way up to the tightest, deepest parts of her wet hole.

“You’re choking him,” Jungkook chuckled as she gave him a particularly tight squeeze. His cock throbbed in delight.

“Death by pussy can’t be that bad,” she teased. Her chain covered hand nudged his hand holding her phone. “Come on.”

He lifted the phone and she raised her skirt once again, letting him see. God, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Should I take off my shirt?” she asked.

Jungkook made his dick jerk inside her and she moaned deliciously.

“Nah, he doesn’t deserve titties.”

She leaned back, pulling her skirt high and Jungkook took the shot of their joined thighs, her viscous juices shiny and smeared all over his crotch. Man, it had been a great idea to work out until he got that v-line. Matched perfectly with hers.

He turned it around and she bit her lip, grinning wide, dimple indented in her right cheek. Jungkook was beginning to become a fucking sucker for that dimple. He wanted to cause all kinds of trouble just to see it over and over.

“A rebel from the waist down, eh?”

The dimple stayed as she laughed.

“It’s a little bit of a lie,” she said mischievously as she began to roll her hips into his. “Because I’m definitely a rebel from the waist up too.” Her tongue extended, long, so fucking long and wet, almost touching past the midpoint of her chin.

Goddamn, Jungkook was glad he attended this concert.

She put it back into her mouth and began to fuck him hard, putting her back into it and smacking their hips together loudly, rocking the car a little, but at this point Jungkook was ready to go to jail for indecent exposure, head thrown back in her backseat, groaning as he felt her squeeze him with every descent, so wet that he felt like he was going to slip out while also feeling every contour of her pussy clamping down on him. He placed her phone on the seat and grabbed her thighs, sinking his fingers into her softness, drunk on the feeling, moaning her name as she used him like her favorite dildo.

“Ah, Jungkook,” she panted, smirk still on her lips. “You have a great cock. Glad I picked you.”

His eyes lowered, watching her through his lashes, seeing her smug expression. “I’m honored.”

She snickered. “Pretty face, hot body. Down to fuck.” That dimple. “I got lucky.”

Me too, he thought.

She placed her hands on his, sliding them up to her waist.

“Can you fuck me from below? Bet you’re great at it.”

He grinned and slammed his hips into her dripping heat. She moaned wantonly, grabbing his shoulders as he pounded her from below, feeling her clench and squirm, her walls spasming and juices leaking down his balls.

“A-ah, fuck,” he gasped, closing his eyes as he felt it. She must have orgasmed, but was too breathless to say as her nails dug into his shoulders, pushing her hips down as he jerked them up, meeting his thrusts over and over.

“Fuck, you’re so strong,” she breathed, pussy clenching again, splattering more onto his thighs, whole body shivering in his hands as she threw her head back, moaning his name. It sounded positively sinful from her lips and he loved it. The towel under them was soaked with bodily fluids and most of it was hers.

“Ugh, you feel so good,” Jungkook panted. “So fucking good when you cum for me, fuck, I thought girls couldn’t orgasm that easily on dick.”

She chuckled deep in her throat, bringing her head back and looking down at him, hair falling all around her shoulders, plump lower lip in her teeth. Fuck, her face was so fucking pretty.

Pretty fucking naughty too.

“Can’t speak for other girls, but I do love getting railed by a hot guy with a big cock,” she purred, licking her lips. “And you’re so hot you could spark a match.”

Was it possible to get harder because of a damn compliment? Because that was happening to Jeon Jungkook right now, his jaw clenching as he grinned, fucking her harder, deeper, bouncing her on his dick unashamedly, definitely catching someone’s attention out there because of how deliciously she was moaning for him, telling him how good it felt as her pussy violently massaged his entire length.

“Yes, yes, ah, Jungkook, your cock is so fucking good…”

It was getting to his head, shooting down to his spine, coiling tighter and tighter, smashing his hips into her tight, wet hole, every muscle on fire and vibrating with pleasure, her name falling from his lips repeatedly, feeling so good doing something so bad, pleasure so intense he barely heard someone honk their car horn cheerfully at their fucking.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck!”

He shot into the condom with a fierce jerk, filling it completely as she gasped, pussy tightening and throbbing around him as his crotch was soaked again, exhaling hotly into his face as she came with a shudder of his name, big smile on her lips.

Absolutely the best car sex Jungkook had ever had in his entire life.

She collapsed against him, pressing her hot cheek against his.

“I think someone honked at us,” she laughed, a little raspy from moaning so much.

Jungkook wrapped his hands around her waist, kneading it. “Cheering for me and my dick, I bet.”

She reached down and felt for her phone.

“You really gonna send him those pics?” Jungkook asked, panting from exertion.

“Do you not want me to?” Her tone had a hint of concern. “You’re in them too, so I won’t if you’re not down.”

He chuckled. “Just send him the one of you holding my dick and licking my balls.”

She held the condom down as she got off him, laughing. “Damn, how cruel. Showing off your big dick like that. You’re trouble, Jungkook.”

Jungkook looked over to his left. She sat down next to him, pressing her body close to his. Thigh against thigh, shoulder against shoulder. Dimple clearly visible because of her mischievous smirk. He leaned over and kissed it. He just had to. Her eyebrow raised, smirk turning into a pleased smile.

He grinned.

“That makes the two of us, doesn’t it?”

Her eyes darted around the rapidly vacating parking lot. Then they came back to his face, her lips curving into a grin to match his.

“Damn, I’m so lucky to have met you, Jeon Jungkook.”

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios

[shhhlikeme]

👀 could I request a steamy makeout sesh with aomine pls!!

Steamy Makeout Session with Aomine Daiki 💦🔝

(mature themes)

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED KNB AND I AM OFFICIALLY OUT HEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE boi. I have been itching to get to these requests out and the time has finally come! Le First of many 🤍 🏀 I will update my rules now that I’m back. But basically I hope the small fan base comes back to lifeeee

Aomine Daiki knows he is probably the best kisser to ever live…… fuck

Momoi once made him join the Kissing Booth at the school carnival because she knew how much money she would raise and he literally made 2 girls faint….deadass

His kisses are exactly how we all imagine he does…..maybe a little better smh

It kind of annoys you actually

Because he will kiss you at the most strategic of times (for him) so to exercise his soft control but also to have you yearning for him all day until y’all get in your shared bed

For example, at all of his NBA games, Daiki reserves seats for you and whoever you’d like too bring in the same area every time: right by the tunnel so that he can kiss you before and after he plays

Usually its just a simple quick peck on the lips…

But today after his team surprisingly lost against the Browns, and in the midst of the post-NBA game chaos, Aomine leaned up to kiss you up where you were seated, as per usual

You leaned down to meet him halfway, pressing your lips on his then pulling away from the peck you were used to at games. However, Daiki just urgently cups your face in his giant hands and kisses you with astonishing passion, stealing your breath, and moving his soft lips across yours in the heady way that turns you into goo the way only Aomine knows how

His Big dick energy is on 100

and just when you forget where you even are and try to deepen the kiss, your boyfriend pulls away briskly and walks to the changeroom without so much as a goodbye

You knew that that kiss meant that you better prepare yourself NOW for the hotel room tonight because he is pissed about losing that game and he will take out his aggression on his beautiful girlfriend

You are left flustered and impossibly horny after that kiss, you have to embarrassingly smile at your girlfriends who are just as confused with Aomine’s PDA

That night, Aomine is completely silent when the driver brings you two back to the hotel, and he is silent when you two step into the luxurious elevator, too. You’re used to it from dating an athlete, but you also know that the more silent your man is, the angrier he is about losing, meaning the better he will rail once you two get upstairs

You look up at him, staring only at his soft lips and tanned skin as you two step in the elevator and press floor 26. Another group of people are walking toward your elevator when Aomine growls lowly, so low that only you can hear it. He steps forward and puts his hand out as to say “stop” and the group halts in their place. Aomine nods at them once.

“Occupied.”

he states: his tone allowing absolutely zero room for debate. Aone stares down the surprised group as the doors shut.

When they do close, your NBA player immediately whips around and lunges for you—or should I say your lips—crashing his soft ones on yours and making an entrance into your mouth, never having to beg for one. Begging is your job, when he’s edging you.

You give in and open your mouth, inhaling the scent of your boyfriend’s manly cologne and moaning into the kiss.

Aomine’s large tongue dominates yours into submission, roaming everywhere he’d like to, which also happens to be everywhere you’d like him to, also. He then sucks on your tongue with fervour at the same time that he takes both your breasts in his hands, massaging them gently.

While he is kissing you oh-so-harshly but amazingly, his hand’s ministrations are the quite the contrary— as delicate as a flower, using them to lift the bottom of your breasts slightly as if he’s weighing them, humming because he loves our chest, then using his thumbs to encircle your nipples

Aomine lets out an appreciative sigh into your mouth as your nipples harden underneath his soft touch

You can’t handle this, so you’re arching into his touch, silently begging him to be just as rough with his caresses as he is with his kisses.

He knows the contrast of his no-mercy kiss and barely there tit massage is driving you crazy

He knows.

So you tap him twice on the side of his arm: your safe signal that means you need a second, this time it’s so that you can check why this elevator is the slowest one in the fucking world mate, and when Aomine feels your tap he instantly releases you from the kiss

You immediately regretted your decision.

“No, I untap, still kiss me,” You whispered, breathless and shaken by how much you felt lost when his lips weren’t on yours.

Aomine stared into your eyes with his fiery dark blue ones, searching them to make sure you are good. When his search is merely met with the dark sultry expression in your eyes pleading at him to continue, he then just smirks but switches: now landing soft sweet kisses on your cheeks, forehead…. and then your lips but—

Since this is a switch, now that means Aomine’s gentle caresses from before now become much more relentless, taking your tits in handfuls, pushing them together and tweaking your nipples at the same time

You groan out of pleasure and Daiki does too, you not even realizing that you ultimately forgot to even check what floor y’all were passing. You just wanted him to be between your legs already

Aomine realized that his best game loss cure is making you orgasm, so you knew you anticipated the long night ahead of you

The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the top floor finally, and Aomine lifts you up with one arm, his left forearm just under your ass, your racing heart pressed to his ear. If you lifted your hand you could easily touch the ceiling lights.

While you mentally thought about what article of clothing you were going to tear off your man first, Aomine lazily searched for the room key.

“God, hurry up,” You snap breathlessly, impatiently wanting his lips on yours again.

Your boyfriend just chuckles heartily before admitting that he forgot the key pass in the car.

You kinda want to rip his head off but you hold back because if you do that then who will kiss you madly and ruin you in the best way other than the love of your life, tonight?

Aomine just nonchalantly trotted back to the elevator and pressed the button again so the doors opened. He steps inside and immediately dropped you down a few inches (still holding you), leaning in to make out with you silly once more. You are in heaven 😩

On the way down, when the elevator annoyingly stopped on a random floor—breaking your kiss to accommodate others........ you ultimately made Aomine fall in love with you even more because you surprised him—beating him to the punch by putting a hand out to the hotel guests and stating,

“Occupied.”

Before the doors shut.

Back to my 2020 KNB Masterlist!

#kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basket #knb #kurobas kurobasque #kurokos basketball #kuroko no basket stories #kuroko no basuke scenarios #kuroko no basket scenarios #kuroko no basket imagines #kuroko's basketball #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #aomine x y/n #aomine x you #aomine smut #aomine fluff #knb requests #knb scenarios #knb imagines #knb stories

[donut-entendre]

AVGHD things that give me serotonin but probably evoke different emotions in people who are not me (gore, body horror, questionable dietary choices, animal death, minor character death under the cut)

♡ Donut just walking around with a huge giant fresh injury that would normally leave someone dead in hours for. SEVERAL weeks. Like it means nothing to him

♡ Immediately after the previous, Donut making Locus drop him off in the woods somewhere, wandering off, and coming back HOURS later with some random large animal and covered in blood that certainly isn't the animals nor his. Does not explain the blood ever. Still is 'missing' like half his body mass.

♡ The picture in his Moms (plural) house of him as a child, human-shaped mind you, absolutely RIPPING into a horse. Child Donut is covered in blood and horse guts, but he's wearing a party hat, so?

♡ At some point Donut doesn't have enough meat on him to maintain a human form so he's just some horrible octopus chilling in his helmet like some kind of hermit crab. He drags it behind him like an octopus with a coconut though

♡ Locus checking on Donut because of the whole extremely injured thing from the first one, seeing the fucking eyeglow when Donut looks at him, then slowly leaving without saying anything

♡ Locus' singular raised eyebrow when Donut claims to be on the carnivore diet and that's why he keeps eating birds he swears

♡ Everyone who Locus has contacted about Donut's strange behavior being like that's just normal Donut behavior stop freaking out man but it Most Certainly Isn't

♡ Donut acting like he won't take off his armor because it's Rude but actually it's because his body decided it's a shell now when he wasn't looking

♡ Grif and Locus just taking turns carrying the helmet crab around like it's normal

♡ Wash just barely managing to restrain Sarge from flirting with Donut's moms who are 100% just as unhinged

♡ Donut straight-up forgetting that he's supposed to be injured and just putting all the meat back

♡ Donut is literally a catboy. He was a cat and now he's a boy. Sometimes he makes cat noises for fun and also bc he's a furry

♡ Locus accidentally becoming a horror movie monster's sugar daddy (whoops!)

♡ Sarge not giving a singular fuck about Donut being both capable of and regularly considering killing the reds for fun and profit bc 1) he didn't and 2) ATTA BOY GO. KILL! VIOLENCE!

♡ Caboose comparing humans to peanuts in Donut Perspective Explanations and Caboose is also the only one who really gets that Donut doesn't think like how a human does/would (other than Wash)

♡ *points at the Donut family photos that have a cat but no kid and then a kid but no cat and also one of his moms are missing a digit now* You Know He Bit A Finger

♡ Grey successfully flirting with Donut's moms for The Details on what the hell he is. They're very flattered and Science Mom is very happy to have someone to talk to that understands the science jargon

♡ Temple & co. breaks out of prison like ohh nooo I'm such big threat and you're separated from your little flock oh woe is you! and Donut literally just kills him. it takes no effort at all. He rips that mf apart like a a tasty tasty crab in his little armored shell

♡ casual "OH HEEEEY GUYS" *flesh is literally sloughing off* *has. so many extra fleshbits growing* *dropped from the ceiling creating the Creepiest Possible Greeting he could do*

♡ Everyone thinking he fucking murdered Sarge and really he just locked him in a utility closet with a blindfold over his visor. Also in handcuffs. 1st time in the whole thing where he's like OHHHH IM GONNA KILL HIM THAT PINK BASTARDS GONNA GET HIT-

♡ Caboose being the first one to get Donut to actually sit down and talk. Achieves this with food offerings and hugs. Wash is the 2nd but he doesn't get Donut to talk on purpose it just happens

♡ *walls dripping with blood, growing flesh, piles of UNSC armor trapped in piles of just meat* "Oh yeah I've been exploring a new decorating style"

♡ DONUT BASTARD ARC... meat bastard... he's just hungy okay

#love this au. would love to write it someday #AVGHD #rvb #red vs blue #Donut can be a horror movie monster. as a treat

[kissypoets]

Liability (Reprise)

In which Harry panics about getting mobbed while out for dinner with you and tries to make up for his mistake. 

a/n: hihihi omg... this is my first time posting my work on here [ or anywhere, actually ] so please be kind. this was inspired by the song liability (reprise) by lorde!!! was listening to it and this idea just came to me and I really loved how it turned out and really wanted to share. I hope you enjoy :] !!

Word Count: 6, 543

Harry unbuttons his sheer dress shirt, blowing out a puff of air as his chest and stomach relaxes due to being released from the tight space. He folds the sleeves up to his forearms, inked skin being exposed to the cool air in his quiet bedroom, the dimmed iridescent light making his tattoos vivid and clearer than ever before on his tan skin. All the jogging Harry has done at the beach has certainly paid off. His skin was glowing in golden hue, highlighted parts burnt and sunkissed to perfection, leaving a darkened red tone that made him even more captivating. This has always managed to strengthen Harry’s external confidence, finding extra comfort in his tattoos becoming more visible knowing that they covered a part of him he couldn’t imagine exposing bare and blank. 

Silence surrounds him as he tears his eyes away from his arm, sitting down on the edge of his bed and letting out another large exhale. 

It hasn’t been a great night for him and the fact that he has to come home in a massive space that was filled with nothing but eerie silence certainly makes it worse. He was hoping to stay out all night with you but the moment people got a hold of his whereabouts, he knew better than to sit still and wait for the chaos to slap him in the face. Instead, he rushed both of you outside the restaurant and worry has taken over him completely to the point where taking you home seemed like the best idea to keep you away from the hysteria. You had hoped he was thinking of a more secluded place to bring you to, but when he said you should go, you swallowed the thickening lump in your throat and just nodded your head, trying your best to be understanding of the situation. 

He felt beyond stupid thinking about it now. Enraged, dismay and dejected doesn’t even cover the feeling in his gut. Harry was disappointed in himself more than anything, feeling like he’d let you down just within months of being together. 

Settling his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, his fingers rubbed his temples due to the pain that was starting to flourish in his dome. He could have done so many things in order to prolong the night and make an effort in your guys' relationship, yet he let the intense fret win him over, causing panic in his brain and feeling like he had no choice but to take you home. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters under his breath as he clasps his hands and pressed it hard against his forehead, “you could have taken her here and cooked a lovely dinner, you dimwit.” 

Harry also knew he could’ve been the one to keep you safe tonight. If he was going to cause mayhem in your life, the least he could do was bring you some sort of consolation and protect you from all of it. 

He feels so beyond disappointed in himself that the ache in his head has started to squeeze his cranium, agonizing pain rushing through every vein in his body. He was so tired of this continuously happening to everyone important in his life. Even though he loves what he does and feels such vigorous happiness and triumph from it, he still looks at it as a miniscule disadvantage for all his friends, family and partner. If Harry kept tabs on how many times the media and a large crowd has hurt the most important people in his life, then he’ll have an endless stack of it collecting dust in a separate room in his large residence. 

Harry takes a few more deep breaths until his shaking ceases, doing what he was instructed by his therapist when needing to calm his anxiety and getting rid of the trepidation forming in the pit of his stomach and on the deep end of his throat. He swallows thickly and straightens his back, inhaling and exhaling one last time. 

Calling you to explain himself and checking in on how you were doing was the right thing to do right now. He reaches in his pockets, pulling out his phone and instantly putting you on dial. He has your number memorized and favorited in his contacts, the bold font of his nickname for you listed first on the section. 

The phone rang once, twice, then four more times before it went straight to voicemail. It didn’t even vex him, he just stayed on the line and listened to your sweet voice echo through his ear drums, savoring every syllable that left your mouth. You sounded like how it felt to touch velvet, or the feeling of bliss that rushes through him whenever he finishes a song. You felt good, you sounded good. 

A wave of calmness hits his body, the frustration and disappointment in him halting for a second as he focuses on your saccharine voice, “hey! So sorry for not being able to pick up your call. Chances are I’m sleeping or completely engulfed by a book. I promise to get back to you as soon as possible. Hope you’re well, bye!’

When the line cuts off, Harry looks at his phone screen, enthralled by the brief message. He wasted no time dialing your number again, standing up to pace around the room when worry creeps back in his abdomen. Hands settled on his hip, he bites his lip as he waits in vehement anticipation for you to greet him through the phone. But after several rings, it leads to your voicemail again and he’s left even more concerned. 

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, shoving one of his hand inside his pants to bring some comfort in his physique, “one more call.”

The airconditioning in the room roared loudly, coming to life and blowing soft, cool air from the ceiling. Harry’s forgotten that he still had his dress shirt on, opened wide on the center and exposing his abdominal muscles and the large butterfly inked on the center of it looking glorious and fresh. The ventilation blew air right on his skin and he can feel the hair rising due to the coldness, not helping the nervousness that was already swallowing the entirety of his stomach.

He continued pacing as the line rings, his breathing in sync with each pause. He wasn’t entirely sure anymore if you’d pick up at all, but when the ringing stopped and there were seconds of silence, he looked at his screen and noticed the time stamp going. 

He stopped in the middle of his bedroom and pressed the phone back to his ears, certain you’ve picked up. The knot on his stomach tightened and his chest started beating rapidly, palms sweating inside the pockets of his slacks. He wanted you to pick up but after already failing to hear from you twice, he wasn’t expecting it on the third call.

“Baby?” Harry calls. There was some groaning.

“No idea who the fuck this is, but some of us are trying to sleep, mate,” a deep voice rings through his drums, tiredness and sleepiness evident. Harry’s stomach drops as he stares at the wall in front of him. A male? 

Harry’s head starts racing and he swallows a thick ball of swelling anxiety in his throat. He can feel his breathing becoming uneven. He checks the screen of his phone again, making sure that he called the right person. After seeing your nickname still typed out neatly and boldly on the front, he feels a quarter of relief. He shouldn’t think the absolute worst because it could be anyone. Harry has earned multiple different titles under the category of being overly jealous and he admits that it turns him into an arrogant son of a bitch, but he just really couldn’t help it. He wants to be the only one. 

“Hellooooo?” the voice on the other end startles him out of his thoughts and he focuses back on the call. The man sighs when Harry doesn't answer. “Look, you’ve called three times on her phone while she was passed out on the couch. She’s in the shower now and I’ll let her know that a--hang on--” he looks at his screen, “that a Harry rang, cool?”

Whoever answered your phone didn’t even bother to wait for Harry to agree, he just hung up and did as he said. 

The grip on Harry’s phone tightened without control, his eyes starting to water due to the intense stare he gave his wall. Shower? Why were you so tired beforehand? Who was that? Why, why, why… Multiple questions raced through his brain and he rushed to sit at the end of his bed. You’re too good and you’d never do anything to hurt him like this, he knows that. Or does he? His jealousy is getting the best of him and he senses it. He does his breathing exercises again as he waits patiently to hear from you this time. 

The airconditioning starts to die down, the noise it was making starting to decrease and heat starts to radiate throughout Harry’s body. He wasted no time ripping his dress shirt off, fully exposing his toned thorax, muscles flexing due to his nervous breathing and brood. 

You’ve mentioned Effy to him multiple times before, considering the amount of interesting stories you’ve told him about your drunken nights together and spontaneous trips; stories he’s certainly loved hearing and continues to anticipate whenever you’re together. He knew that she was your only roommate, that she’s enthralled by women and that you haven’t mentioned any guy friends yet. He even remembers correctly that you’re the only child, your family living across the globe and that the closest thing you have to a relative here in Los Angeles is Effy, no brother and no cousins. 

Harry tries not to continue overthinking but he’s really shit in that department. It’s one of the many traits that he despises the most in himself, knowing that his past relationships had gone wrong because of it and he refuses to let that happen again. 

Thank god his thoughts were cut off when his phone starts to ring and vibrate on his hand, the same nickname you’ve become accustomed to shining brightly on his phone screen. He stands up from his bed and quickly answers, “hello? Hi. I’m--”

“Harry,” you sigh in relief at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t know that you’ve been expecting a call for over two hours now since he dropped you home, “hi, baby. Are you okay? Finn said--”

“Finn. Is he-- who is he, exactly?” You notice a tint of vulnerability in his voice. 

Harry looks down at his feet that were covered in baby pink socks, a hand on his hip while he waits for you to answer. He hopes he didn’t sound pathetic asking that. He felt ridiculous enough as it is and absolutely stupid for not asking about your wellbeing first. He was about to retract and take it back but you’ve managed to chuckle through the phone before answering and Harry bites his lip.

“Effy’s brother. He’s got a research trip down in San Diego so he’s here for a visit. Sorry for however he acted over the phone. I promise he’s a great guy,” you say, “how are you? I so badly wanted to call but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk especially because of what happened at Perch.”

You were always so honest and straightforward with your thoughts. Harry loves that so much about you. Somehow, it boosts his confidence even more whenever he’s around you and he’s never afraid to speak his mind and act however he wants. What he lacks in being able to communicate properly with his partners you make up for in the relationship and he was more than grateful. 

“I’m fine. I’m,” Harry pauses for a second before exhaling and changing his words, “I’m not fine actually. I miss you and I’m so terribly sorry for dismissing you. It wasn’t your fault, I swear, I’m just an arse.” 

He continues before you can disagree, “I got nervous. That was the first time that’s ever happened while I was with you and I didn’t want it to change anything between us. I didn’t want you to feel differently. I want you now. I mean… I want you to come over now. I want to cook dinner for you and make up for what happened.”

Harry’s heart starts to beat even faster against his chest as he admits his feelings in accurate words. He’s aware how late it is already and you probably have classes tomorrow but he’s hoping you’ll agree anyway so he can fix a wasted and ravaged night. He also thinks he can persuade you into wanting to stay, the need to hold and kiss you intensifying the more he thinks about it. He wants to show you just how sorry he is. He wants you to forgive him and let him show you just how important you are to him. He wants to make you his favorite homemade meal and demonstrate his outrageous skills in bed, which you have been pining for and missing so much. 

You were about to answer but he cuts you off once more. You smile slightly as you listen to him speak, “fuck. How are you? How are you feeling? Sorry.”

“Deep breaths, please? You sound really nervous and you have no reason to be, it’s just me,” you have no idea how nervous you make him and how much he worries about you, but he refrains from saying it out loud, not wanting to speak over you again. “I’m bummed about what happened because I really wanted to have a lovely dinner with you but I also understand. I understand and I feel better now that I’m hearing your voice. You have nothing to apologize for, Harry.”

“I do,” he mutters and toys with his belt, eyes still on the floor, “if it weren’t for me, no crowd would have showed up and we would still be sitting on that rooftop with a nice glass of extremely expensive wine. They’ll have no choice but to kick us out.”

You giggle and the sound makes Harry’s anxiety melt away. The tension in his muscles starts to soften and his heart starts to slow down, instantly feeling healed. 

Harry looks up and his lips finally curl on its sides, dimples popping out on both of his cheeks and he feels more than relieved. He had no doubts about you understanding the unfortunate circumstance but he was one to always need validation and he feels undeniably reassured by your simple words, and even just the sound of your laugh.

At times, strange happenings like that would commence an argument with his exes. Looking back at it now, it was very odd to him considering he had no control over it. Plus he trusts his fans enough and knows that they wouldn’t do anything to put him and his loved ones in danger. Though mobs happen, he’s aware that they will never cross a line that damages his respect for them. 

But you discepher and accept it, without him having to beg you to or explain to you. Another reason why he’s so enamored by you. You just know. 

“Yeah, that would have been lovely. But we can always go another time. I saw you today and it was enough for me,” you replied. Harry’s cheeks tightens as he smiles wider, dimples deepening and crinklers appearing beside his eyes. He feels himself flush because of your words and he crunches his nose to calm himself. 

“We can try again tonight,” he brings his suggestion back into the conversation, “so, will you come? I can pick you up, I don’t mind.”

You frown. “I’d love to but, it’s almost eleven, classes tomorrow and Effy--”

“Please, darling?” Harry begs, sitting down on his bed again. He hears you inhale upon hearing the sudden word of endearment and he grins. He knows how much you love it when he calls you random pet names, but mostly the sweetest ones that will have you turning into goo. 

“God, you’re good,” you admit and tilt your head back, laughing quietly. Harry’s grin grows, “fine. But I can drive myself.”

“No,” he butts in. “I can pick you up. It’s just a twenty minute drive.”

It was a tactic. Harry figured that if you didn’t have your vehicle with you then you will be more likely to stay. But he knows that he’ll cave in on driving you back anyway if you really wanted to go home for the night.

“Harry,”

“Honey,” he throws in another nickname. You inhale. He smiles.

“Fine,” you say in defeat. 

Harry’s heart almost leaps out of his chest in triumph and excitement; the fact that he’s seeing you again tonight lit up something in him. He’s grateful that you can’t see the  idiotic smile he’s sporting right now, otherwise his body will flush in humiliation and you’ll tease him about it all night. Little does he know, you’ve got the same look on your beautiful face, also thankful that he couldn’t see you. You’re both a mirrorball to each other’s life, lighting one another up in a way that you’ve both always craved. 

“See you then, baby,” he says.

___

Due to the lack of traffic, Harry was able to make it in your apartment complex in just under 15 minutes. Mulholland Drive was packed as usual but it still didn’t prevent him from arriving too late. Dressed in black joggers and a black hoodie, curls tied up in a black scrunchie and pushed back in a red bandana, he looked absolutely cozy and at ease. 

The brief conversation between the two of you over the phone has brought him slight serenity. He’s still hoping to somehow bring it up tonight and apologize once more knowing what he said through the phone wouldn’t be enough. And he also wants to put his compelling abilities in bed to good use as a way to show you how sorry he was, if you’ll let him. 

He adjusts the cool air that left his car’s ventilation, making sure it wasn’t too warm nor too cold once you get in the car. He stares at the open space of your building, waiting for you to come down through the stairs while exhilaration rushes through every vein in his body. 

Harry feels absolutely nonsensical because of how much he misses you despite seeing you hours ago. A minute, hour, day or weeks even, will never be enough time and he’s fully aware of that. But thinking about everything he wants to do with you just brings back the same intolerable thoughts; getting mobbed, harassed and surrounded by hundreds of people even if you’re just having dinner in a public restaurant together. He suddenly starts to feel unsettled, desperately needing you to show up within his sight already so he can forget about everything and just focus on you and taking care of you, which is what he has started to love doing most.

Just in time, before Harry’s thoughts can get darker and deeper, he catches you walking carefully down the stairs looking irresistible as always. Your hair was in a low bun, bits of hair falling loose around your face while you sported a lovely white frock dress and matching fluffy slippers. 

His whole face lights up in jubilation, mouth almost hurting due to how big his smile was and the wild elation in him sharpens. Harry chuckles as soon as you get in the car, more than delighted to see you. Your scent engulfs him in a wild wave, the air conditioning circulating it throughout his car and he didn’t mind it one bit. He hopes that it would stay in there forever, surrounding him to bring a sense of tranquility. 

“Hi, sweet girl,” he greets you, wasting no time and leaning forward to catch your soft lips with his. He feels you take a deep breath and you can feel his smile against you, his hands coming up to stroke your cheeks. Your shock is evident when you laugh quietly while his lips continue to tackle yours, cupping his jaw as you kiss him back and Harry slowly melts due to the feeling. His body slumps from where he sat, savoring your taste and marking you with his. 

You pull back, pecking him lightly once more before greeting him back, “hi, handsome.”

His body heats up as he leans back in his seat and starts driving, “cool enough in here for you?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you answer, putting your seatbelt on. “How was the drive?”

“It was fine, no traffic so we’ll be home in no time,” he says, catching a quick glance at you while you fixate your eyes on the road, “you look beautiful, by the way. Love the dress.”

Your breathing changed for a second upon hearing the word home, but you chose to ignore it. Instead, you smile lovingly at him, your hands reaching out to lightly massage the back of his head. He hums at the soothing feeling. 

“Thank you, baby,” you reply, a tint of blush creeping up your cheeks. “I missed you.”

Harry feels his body heat up at your confession. He has no idea why you have this much of an effect on him but he loves it. He feels utterly loved and happy, which is something he hasn’t felt in awhile and always wanted to have. Instead of saying it back, he teases you, “sod off, you just saw me hours ago. Clingy much?” 

You look over at him in slight surprise, not missing the humor behind his words. He glances at you sideways, lips tilted up in a smirk and his eyebrow lifted jokingly. You pull your hand away and cross your arms over your chest, “you know what, yes, absolutely. I can’t get enough of you.”

Harry didn’t expect you to say that so when you notice his face getting flushed and serious, you couldn’t help but giggle. His whole body went rigid for a couple of seconds, eyes still focused on the road. Instead of answering, his hand reaches towards your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze to show his appreciation. His thumb brushes against your skin a couple of times and he feels it get bumpy, hairs rising because of how good it was making you feel. Harry grins to himself, perceiving the effect he had on you and completely enjoying it. 

You put your hands on top of his, feeling the warm veins against your palm and you look out the window, watching the bright lights pass by. 

Harry loves going on drives with you as much as you do with him. He hates it that his radio was old and wouldn’t work, but he also refuses to get it fixed. He finds comfort in the silence within the confined space and also enjoys the way the noise outside surrounds him. He loves it even more when you’re on the passenger seat experiencing the therapeutic moment with him. Knowing that he can be with you in comfortable silence gave him a lot of hope in your relationship. 

Minutes pass by and only a couple of miles are left until you reach his beautiful Malibu home. Harry remembers the elephant in the room, his chest tightening upon the thoughts of what brought you two in this situation in the first place. Should he address it now or wait until you both get to his house? There’s never really a right time and he knows that. He wasn’t even sure if it was something you want to talk about or if you wanted to ignore the whole thing and instead continue on to have a peaceful time together. 

But, you were just patiently waiting for him to address it. You knew that if you brought it up, it’ll make him uncomfortable and he’ll start blaming himself. It was an admission in his part that you certainly want to avoid. The thought of him feeling like he puts you in a dangerous environment squeezes your heart so disturbingly that you can feel it all the way up your brain. You’ll get upset and he might assume the worst; when really, you just want him to understand that you know he can’t control it and that despite everything, you adore him and will never leave, unless, for unbeknown reasons and god forbid, he wants you to. 

“Almost there, love,” he cuts his own thoughts off, including yours, clueless about how in sync they were. You look over at him the same time he took a quick glance at you. He looks back at the road and whispers something about how pretty you are but it was so quiet you could barely hear it. 

Instead of acknowledging it, you put your hand back where it was on his hair and softly massage his scalp. You feel him lean back a tad, clearly finding peace in your touch. You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying those three words you didn’t know he wanted to say too, both of you too scared to admit and profess it out loud. 

_____

“Is there anything I should be doing?” you ask Harry from where you sat in his kitchen, a glass of extremely expensive red wine in your hand. He wanted to open a bottle of Ichiro’s Malt, hoping that it’ll make up for the ones you both could’ve had at Perch. 

He twists his body slightly to look at you, answering in the sweetest tone, “nope. Sit there and look pretty, that’s all. I’m making this for you.” 

Harry looks absolutely handsome, striking and sexy from where he stood, chopping a bunch of vegetables like it was his professionalism. He’s changed to a plain black shirt, the material hugging his toned body perfectly and emphasizing the muscles on his arm, back and stomach. He even had a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, adding to the whole look. You sipped your wine as you continued to stare, noticing the way his body is flexing as he moves and his tattoos moving along on his skin. You sighed, feeling so lucky. 

You decided to walk over to him to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. Harry has certainly mastered the art of cooking; having been able to experience life in Italy, he had acquired the new skill flawlessly. It’s something he’s always wanted to be better at, considering the only thing he knew how to make was his grandfather’s special sandwich recipe and god only knows how tired people are of eating it. 

Harry feels your presence beside him as you lean back against the smooth counter, sipping your wine. He looks over at you as he cuts the food, holding an admirable smile on his face. He loves having you here. He loves being this close to you, knowing that you’re within his sight and he was able to be unapologetically affectionate without the judgemental eyes and words of the public. 

He speaks when you look back at him with a shine in your eyes, “how’s the wine?”

“Hm, tastes like money,” you say jokingly. He laughs at your answer and you smiled so wide at the sight of his head slightly thrown back, white and perfectly aligned teeth showing with his nose scrunched up. 

“I have no doubt about that,” he says, looking back down at the cutting board.

The bottle costs roughly around twenty thousand dollars, more if you count it in pounds. But he chooses not to say it. Instead he asks about your day, as he usually would every single time he sees you or talks to you over the phone, “how was your day? Any progress in your thesis?” 

Your ears perk up at the question about your dissertation. Harry has always been interested in it and you fail to understand the fascination. You’ve asked why before and he always admits that it was something that matters to him too, but you feel like that isn’t a good enough reason to be rapted in a boring essay by a grad student. 

He tremendously admires the fact that you’ve continued your studies to get a masters in English. He envies it and he wishes he had taken your footsteps. But Harry is so beyond proud of you and just the thought of you becoming a famous novelist like you’ve always wanted makes him feel over the moon. You deserve nothing but good things and he can’t wait until you finish uni and finally build your self publishing pursuit.

“A lot of progress which I’m so relieved about. Remember when we read Course of Love together? I annotated it in the process and a lot of the quotes really came in handy for my essay,” you tell him, “I’ve reached probably eighty-nine pages and we only needed to write a hundred, but I’m aiming for one-fifty, max.” 

“Always pushing yourself to work harder than you need to,” Harry says with a soft smile on his face. He starts to mix his ingredients together in the pan on the stove and you watch him work his magic cautiously, “but that’s really good, love. I’m proud of you. I know you’re gonna kick ass and everyone else's thesis will suck.” 

“Oh, without a doubt,” you nod teasingly. You’re actually really nervous about it and he knows that. But you’ve mentioned before that talking about it doesn’t really help calm you so Harry doesn’t take the conversation further than that, “what about you? How was your day? Wrote anything new?”

Harry shakes his head and looks over at you as he starts to shake the pan to mix whatever was on it, “you haven’t even told me how your day was, babe.”

“Crap, sorry,” you have a habit of completely disregarding certain parts of a conversation. He found it adorable most of the time but when it came to arguments or discussions between the two of you about serious topics, it vexed him to no end. He remembers you missing the whole point of your conversations sometimes and he loathed it then, “one of my professors ditched today so I only had one class. Took a lot of naps after lunch which was nice then-- then whatever happened at Perch. My day was alright.”

You try to soften a part of your answer with the last statement but it was very clear Harry didn’t miss it. He looks over at you for a quick second and you sipped your wine to avoid eye contact. 

You didn’t mean anything by it. It happened today and he was asking about today so you decided to slip it in there in honor of your promises to always be honest, free-spoken and up front with one another. It didn’t necessarily ruin your day, it was just simply dejecting and unlike anything you’ve had to deal with before. But you’re with him now and he’s cooking you something that already smelled absolutely delicious so you were willing to look past it. But Harry couldn’t and you knew that. 

He lowers the heat on the stove to keep the food sizzling but not to the point where it’ll burn. He wipes his hands with the towel on his shoulder before approaching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You lean back further against the counter as his hand guides your arms to wrap around his neck, putting his hands on your waist and squeezing affectionately. He stares deep into your eyes and you wondered how he was so good with that; how it didn’t make him look nervous despite being the shyest person that you know. 

Softly, he speaks, “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry about that. I’m a dick.”

Mirth creeps into your eyes at his last word and your lips unintentionally curls on its side.  He has no idea why you started smiling but he did too. He feels you interlock your fingers against his skin as you answer him, “the way you say dick is really amusing. But you aren’t and you have nothing to apologize for. You have no control over it.” 

You’re so humorous and he loves it so much. He loves you. “I am a dick and I will apologize because even if I can’t control it, I’m still the reason why it happens. The way I acted afterwards was very irrational too. Just admit it, I’m a dick.” 

“If I agree, will you stop apologizing and calling yourself that?”

“Yes,”

“Fine, you’re a dick,”

“I know and I’m sorry,” he smiles at you. 

You squint your eyes as his whole face beams, your hands squeezing his face and squishing his skin, “cheeky.”

He laughs and pulls you closer to him, “come here, baby.” 

Your noses touch as he leans down to get closer to your face, his lips barely touching yours. Whenever he inhales, your engrossing scent engulfs his nostrils and it brings him great comfort. Your hands cup his jaw, thumb caressing his cheeks as he opens his mouth once more, “I mean it. I regret taking you home and acting the way I did. I should’ve apologized right there and then. I should’ve taken you here and found a way to make the night better but I’m trying to make up for it now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in a really fucking long time and I don’t want things to change because you finally got a glimpse into another part of my life. I won’t let anything happen to you, please know that, but it will get worse. Mobs happen and it’s horrifying at times.” 

It’s something that really worries Harry and you see it take over his whole figure. His face shows vivid perturb and his body has become slightly tensed from his words. It’s true; it will get worse and when you witness it, you will be horrified. It’s something Harry has always had to worry about before making the decision to fully commit to someone. It’s affected his past relationships abdominably and he doesn’t want the same thing happening between the two of you. Like he said, you’re far too important to him and for something as riotous as this to come in between that will be heart shattering and utterly painful. This was his life, it will always be like this and if you can’t accept nor understand that, then who will? He only wants you. 

You have no idea what to say, eyes boring straight into his pale irises, clear brood written all over it. Your thumb continues to massage his skin which slightly soothes Harry’s tensed muscles and he’s worried about what will come out of your mouth. He leans back a little to read your face but your mind is so empty that the only thing you can utter really was, “I love you and I’m here for as long as you want me to, okay?”

Your words made Harry lean back further out of reflex, a sharp intake of air filling his lungs upon hearing your revelation. The sudden realization of what you just blurted out forced your eyes shut, hands covering your face in slight embarrassment. You weren’t ashamed that you said it, you were just scared whether or not he felt the same way. You hear Harry laugh and you peak out of your fingers, making him laugh harder. You take your hands off to playfully scold him, your skin saturated with redness, “oh god! Will you stop? I love you and I’m not scared to say it. Nothing’s funny about that.”

Harry chuckles some more, making his way forward to you again and takes your hand in his. He wraps it back around his neck, leaning down to take a good look at you. 

His heart is beating so fast in his chest and he was so happy that he didn’t even care if you could hear it. He’s been wanting to say the same three words to you every single time he’s with you; even when he’s just admiring you while you read a book or watching a movie, or when the two of you are simply hanging out and talking. He catches the obvious adoration in your bearing and always notices the twinkle in your eyes when you look at him. He hopes he’s been showing it as well because there’s no better feeling than loving you and he wants you to know that. 

You shy away from his stare and he titters. He tilts your chin up, teeth on full display on his face while his cheeks deepen into dimples, “you love me?”

“Yes,” your noses touch and you sigh. “I’ve said it like twice already and you, zero times.” You poke his chest in a light hearted manner.

“Actually, you just couldn’t take the hint before,” he teases you. “I thought it was very clear that I love you.” 

You bite your lip to keep your smile from widening and you close your eyes momentarily before locking eyes with him again. He scrunches his nose to keep himself from becoming too joyful because of the exchange between the two of you. You tease him back, “you’re just doing a shit job at showing it, that’s all.”

Harry gasps at your comeback and wraps both of his arms around you without hesitancy, squeezing you as tight as he can and lifting you gently off of the floor. You laugh so loud that his ears perked up at the sound, making his heart beat rapidly and somehow faster than it has ever done before.

He loves you. And you love him back. There wasn’t any doubt about it between the two of you, it was just a matter of finding the right moment to admit it at last to each other. And what better moment is there than this one in the kitchen, where the food on the stove is at its edge of burning without the two of you even noticing. 

Harry puts you back down on the floor and both of you catch your breath. You took the lead this time and grabbed his face, smashing your lips against his. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grasps the back of your neck with one hand and the other softly cupping your jaw. He smiles against you and you feel it, butterflies forming in your stomach as you tangle your fingers in his soft curls. He kisses you so deep, hard, full of love and savors your taste like there was no tomorrow. You feel his hand start to crawl up to grip bits of your hair but before you can let it get further than that, you pull back and you both inhale so loud it erupted an echoing chuckle. 

“Food’s gonna burn, babe,” you tell him, breathing hard.

“I’m so in love with you,” he simply says back. 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry #styles #harry writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #fluff #harry styles love #fanfic #fanfiction #1d #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles x reader

[winterscaptain]

through and through.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: this is our ajf minimal loss fic! as (usually) usual, its more fun if you read the rest of the series, but this one stands on its own just fine. lemme know what you think!!

words: 5.8k warnings: canon-typical violence, death, and injury, language, aaron Flexing on These Hoes™

summary: the septarian sect ranch situation is hard enough with the memories of waco. the knowledge you’re in danger, along with reid and prentiss, has aaron on edge. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everyone just stay calm!” 

Nancy turns, assuring you with a naive and placating smile, “I’m state police. I’m an officer of the state.” 

Stupid. Stupid!

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.” Emily, ever the voice of reason, assures from behind you. 

“We just have to calm down.” Your useless attempt at de-escalation is overrun by gunfire. 

“I can talk to him.” Lunde turns to go, and you reach for the back of her shirt, trying to pull her back. 

You manage to get past the goons in the front, while they stop Emily. There’s only one chance. “No, Nancy! Wait.” 

As you run after her out of the tunnel to the main level, you give her more and more space. The noise and smoke is a little overwhelming and you almost lose her in your confusion and distraction. Cyrus shouts to cease fire, but it’s in vain. The gunfire echoes around you, and you can’t help but think of Aaron. 

What if I don’t come home? 

She rushes to the front of the building, by the window, and addresses Benjamin. “Mr. Cyrus, let me talk to them.” 

You catch up to here in the chapel, reaching for her arm to pull her back to safety when something stops you. You can’t feel it at first, but when you watch Lunde drop to the ground, you know. 

Fuck. 

Hitting the deck right away, you put pressure on the gunshot wound that’s torn through your left shoulder. You breathe deeply, fighting the panic you know will only hurt you more. The shock still numbs the pain and when you look, it seems through and through. The back of your blazer is ripped through, and there’s a hole in the wall behind you. 

That’s a comfort. 

The last thing you needed was a .223 round bouncing around in your chest. You’re grateful enough it didn’t tear your arm off entirely.

You crawl around the corner and press yourself against the wall. With a groan, you remove your blazer and tie it around your shoulder as best you can. You chance a glance at Nancy, but she's already gone - unseeing eyes turned toward the ceiling, her hand limp on the carpet, blood blossoming across the chest of her teal blouse.

Damn it.

Cyrus’s men shout around you, and it feels more and more like an active warzone with every passing second  

“Man down, man down! We can’t stay here!” 

“Hold your fire!” 

You breathe as deeply as you can, tucking your arm to your belly and closing your eyes. The gunfire slowly ceases, the movement around you becoming only a little less frantic. 

Aaron will know. He’ll find us. We’ll be okay. 

Your shoulder twinges. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and you only hope you go into shock soon for the sake of your pain tolerance. 

Aaron, please. Please hurry. 

+++

“Morgan.” JJ bursts through the glass doors and unmutes the television in the corner. 

“What’s up?” 

She increases the volume, and they hear, “... a routine question and answers meeting by Colorado Child Services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Septarian Sect.” 

Morgan stands, ready to leap into action. “JJ...That’s not the ranch were -”

“They’re still inside.” 

Derek’s voice rockets across the office as he calls for Hotch, who immediately ends his call and leaves his office, leaning heavily on the banister. Derek tells him you’re still in there, with Reid and Prentiss. 

“...at least three child services members are still trapped inside the compound.” 

No. 

Aaron swallows heavily, 

Keep your head, Hotcher. It’ll be okay. 

Phones start ringing all at once. Everyone looks to Aaron, and he’s already back in his office, grabbing his things. He flies back out, blazer slung over his shoulder and go bag in-hand. “Wheels up. Now.” 

+++

You watch as they haul Lunde’s body out of the way. Someone helps you to your feet. You’re feeling pretty dizzy. 

“Can I have some water? Please?” You know for certain you’re in shock now, and keeping your blood pressure and volume high enough is the only way you’ll make it out alright.

“We’ll get you what you need after we take you back to your people.” 

There’s always been a little part of you that believes in the nugget of humanity in people. Today, it might just save your life.

Emily rushes to you as you step down into the basement. Reid hovers, nervous and watchful. Emily’s voice is steady. “We need water and medical attention.” 

“First aid kit is in the corner.” Cyrus points and Reid jets off to grab it while Cyrus continues giving direction. Someone hands her three bottles of water, and she sets them by your side.

Emily’s hand flutters over your forehead, as if checking you for fever. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Through and through. Just gotta stop the bleeding.” You know you’re slurring your words a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it could be. 

“I prayed this day would never come, but it has.” Cyrus shoulders a rifle. “God will see us through.”

Fuck. 

Cyrus’s eyes linger on you and Emily a little longer than is comfortable, but that’s the least of your worries. Spencer returns with the kit, pulling out packing gauze and wrapping. 

Emily helps you with your blazer and shirt, leaving your shoulder exposed to the mountain air. Spencer packs your wound while Emily starts wrapping the gauze around your ribs and shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

You put a hand on her arm. “I know. Thanks.”

+++

Hotch comes to a screaming stop in the SUV, his suit jacket long gone in the Colorado heat. He immediately makes assignments. “Dave, I’m making you lead negotiator.”

“Me?” Dave asks. 

“Why go to the students when I have the teacher?” Aaron’s eyes are probing and hold all the respect in the world for his dear friend. 

“Because the teacher is emotionally involved!” Dave cants his head toward the compound, and Aaron’s eyes follow, as if searching for you. Dave’s eyes stay steady on Aaron - watching him look for you. “And so is the Agent in Charge.”

With a defeated sigh, Aaron cops to it. “I know I am. This is a unique situation.” At Dave’s squint, he continues. “We have three agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.” His voice is low and riddled with tension. The concern radiates off of him in waves, and he can only hope it passes as concern for the whole team. 

In truth, it’s almost all for you. He can’t explain it, but he knows something isn’t right.

“I can’t be objective. I know them too well.” Dave does everything he can to pull Aaron from direct control, but he knows it's a lost cause. More than one part of him knows why. 

Aaron’s jaw tightens, and he’s more intense than before when he replies, “This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of our team as Cyrus. That’s why you’re the best man for the job.” 

“Assuming they’re still in a position to make moves.” 

The thought is near-unbearable. He softens, taking another approach. 

“I know how bad this is. That’s why I want you doing the talking.”

“Alright.” 

Aaron claps Dave on the shoulder, and it’s a silent thanks. Before they can move, there’s more commotion around the back of the FBI staging area. 

Goddamn it. What now?

“...I’m sorry sir, I’m under direct orders from the FBI.” 

Dave and Aaron share a glance, and Aaron leads the way to the argument. 

“I’m the Attorney General of this state.” 

He can’t help it. A smirk crosses Aaron’s face. 

Lawyers. Alright. I can do lawyers. 

There’s also a part of him relieved that he can offload some of this stress into some kind of altercation. An opportunity to flex his Juris Doctorate never hurts. 

“I demand to know why I wasn’t told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Septarian Ranch -”

Alright. That’s it. 

Aaron turns, an insulting kind of disbelief on his face. Steadily and without haste, he approaches. “The only thing that you’re in the position to demand is a lawyer.” A spike of anger strikes his chest. 

He knew about this raid. He knew and he failed to tell us. 

And now his people are in trouble. 

You are in trouble. 

“Who the hell are you?” The overblown AG turns on Aaron. 

Big mistake. 

“I’m Aaron Hotchner. Unit Chief. I’m the guy who’s gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” 

And it’s not an empty threat, dipshit. 

“You can’t talk to me like that.” Was that a smug smile on his face? 

Aaron steps up to him, nearly nose to nose. The adrenaline and anger and fear floods through him and leaks through his words. “Get off my crime scene.” 

Hard brown eyes stare down weak blue ones. Aaron wins. 

+++

“Then leave us alone.” Cyrus’s voice belies no tension as he paces. Your eyes follow him, much more alert now that much of the bleeding has stopped and you have some water in you. Emily strapped ice to your shoulder about twenty minutes ago. You might end up with a little nerve damage, but it's better than bleeding to death. 

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin.” Dave takes a breath, delivering the information steadily. “One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse.”

Aaron’s brows, already low, get even lower. Derek, hovering behind Rossi, takes note. The tension in his unit chief is different and he doesn’t know what it is. 

“Please,” Dave continues, “just put down your guns and come out.”

A buzzing takes over Aaron’s senses for a moment, and he shakes his head to rid himself of it. He reaches down for a bottle of water, downing half of it before he puts it back down. 

“Now, the four child service workers…” That catches Aaron’s attention, and he snaps to. “One of them is dead. It wasn’t us.” 

You bite your lip, watching Benjamin pace near the door. That phrasing will do nothing but panic your team, and you know it. Tipping your head against the wall behind you, you throw out anything you can. 

I’m alright, Aaron. We’re okay. 

Aaron’s head drops and he wets his lips. He closes his eyes, doing his best to keep himself from running straight for the compound. 

No. Please. I’ll get what I get for wishing it’s someone else, but please let it be someone else. Anyone else.

What if it was Prentiss?

What if it was Reid? 

Guilt floods him and he pushes the thoughts aside. 

Dave keeps his voice clear and even. The depth of Aaron’s gratitude and respect is ineffable. There’s nobody better for the job. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“Her name was Nancy Lunde.” 

Aaron nearly collapses in relief, pushing away the guilt as it rises in his sternum. 

“One service worker was shot in the same altercation, but we have provided medical care and the wound is non-lethal.” 

Say my name. Say my name, please. 

He doesn’t, and you grind your teeth together. 

Dave nods, glancing at Aaron. “Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded, including the injured service worker. I promise they’ll be taken care of.”

“With enough supplies, we can tend to our own.” 

“Okay, I’ll need a few hours to put them together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

You can’t hear what Dave says on the other end of the line, but Cyrus’s lack of reaction can only be a good thing. 

“You should get some sleep.” Emily, sitting next to you, checks over your wound again. Spencer’s on your other side with his eyes closed, but you know he’s not sleeping either. 

Closing your eyes, you reply, “I can’t.” Nevertheless, you reach for her hand. She slips her fingers into your palm. “Mm. Your hands are warm.” 

“Well, yeah. I didn’t get shot today.” She’d usually jostle you with a jab like that, but she knows better - obviously. 

+++

When first light comes, you open your eyes. You’re not sure, but it was likely you got at least a couple of hours of sleep. There’s a lot you don’t remember from the night before, but you know they shuffled you up to the chapel at some point. 

Probably a good thing. 

The ice has melted and your arm is all wet. You check your dressings and find them working well enough. They’ll still have to be changed, but you can’t deny the effectiveness of Emily’s instruction and handiwork. 

A car door closes outside. Emily stirs, immediately reaching for a nearby bottle of water. She hands it to you after she takes a couple of sips. Shuffling around Spencer, you take it with your good arm and drink as much as you can. 

Wait. Didn’t Spencer say you could do a transfusion with coconut water?

Do I even need a transfusion? 

Yes. 

Oh. Thanks. 

A knock on the door startles you out of your half-delirious thoughts. You’re grateful for the distraction. The feeling increases tenfold when Dave walks into the chapel.

Aaron’s nearby. It’ll be okay. He probably put Dave on this himself. 

“The children, and our guests.” Cyrus gestures to you, proving to Dave that everyone is in fact, relatively, alright. 

You turn your head (ouch) and meet Dave’s eyes. Looking back down, you’re satisfied he knows you’re alive. 

“I was hoping you’d let me take the children,” Dave says. 

Benjamin shakes his head. “Nah. They’re our protection.” 

We are, too, dumbass. 

The two men chat for a moment. Your heart feels like it grows three sizes as you listen to Dave do what he does best. 

It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. 

You have to believe it. 

After Dave leaves, they make you stand off to the side while they pour wine for everyone present. Emily starts whispering, and you know she’s profiling the adults. It’s probably smart, but all your energy is focused on remaining upright and ignoring the throbbing ache in your shoulder. 

+++

Dave jogs back up to the staging area and assures them you’re all okay. He relays your condition to Aaron, “...but it looks alright. Well-dressed and not bleeding through.” 

Aaron nods. So that’s what the feeling was. You’re alright, but it’s still wrong. He shoves down something else that scares him a little. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

Is it a problem, though?

Yes. 

“He’s too calm. It’s - It’s like he was waiting for this to happen and now that it has, he feels vindicated.” 

Aaron rounds the table and comes to rest at Dave’s side. They’re in full strategy mode. The opportunity to stretch their abilities is welcome, but they both wish it was under better circumstances with lower stakes. 

His hands flutter uselessly at his sides. Restless energy still rockets around his limbs and he hates it. He hates feeling so deeply out of control. 

“I have a signal!” 

Derek, Dave, and Aaron flock to their headphones, tuning in just in time to hear Cyrus inform the congregation they have all ingested the poison together. 

+++

Emily’s eyes shoot around the room, and you know what she’s thinking. 

The profile didn’t indicate mass suicide…

This doesn’t fit

He continues to deliver his sermon and you tune out, focused on the faces of Cyrus’s followers. Right now, they’re more revealing than he’ll ever be. 

+++

“This doesn’t fit.” 

Dave voices Aaron’s thoughts exactly. It quickly devolves into discussion of a breach, and Aaron brings a hand to his forehead. He’s ready to go. 

“If we go into there, people are going to die.” 

Aaron’s hand flies out to the  side. “People are already dying.”

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Aaron tries to keep his hackles down.

+++

“What do we do?” Emily whispers. 

Spencer shakes his head. “Nothing.” 

“We have to do something,” you hiss. “These people just took poison.” 

“Cyrus just told them he did and I think he’s bluffing.” 

Emily’s brow crumples. “Why do you think that?”

Spencer’s following observations make sense - the notes, the watching armed bystanders. It’s strategically sound for Cyrus to weed out the weak in his congregation. 

After a moment, Cyrus admits it was a test of faith. “...Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

+++

Frustrated, Aaron runs his hands through his hair. “Tell ‘em to stand down.” 

The tension is getting to him, as is the lack of sleep. Dave made him lay down overnight, but he never once closed his eyes. He was worried about Prentiss. He was worried about Reid. 

He was worried about you. 

I almost got all of them killed. 

Step it up, Hotchner. You chose Dave for a reason. 

Listen to him. 

+++

“...well into its second day, the standoff at the Septarian Sept ranch has now been taken over by the FBI. There was much speculation in regard to hostages…”

Aaron hovers behind JJ, completely tuned in to the news. This could be disastrous. 

“...But anonymous sources inside the state attorney general’s office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the Septarian Sect ranch.” 

This is disastrous. 

Everyone reacts, but Aaron walks away. He can’t face this right now. There’s too much to do, too much to think about. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

He only hopes you can hear him, somehow. 

Please don’t be a hero. 

+++

Cyrus enters, all bluster and confidence. 

Shit. Something happened. 

“Which one of you is it?”

You all just stare at him. He pulls a gun from his waistband and you jump a little. The movement twinges your shoulder, and you let out a small wince. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer is the first to speak. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?”

Yikes, Spence. Question for a question. 

Wait. Maybe it will work. 

Something in you tells you to keep your mouth shut, and you do. The last thing you want is to screw up whatever Spencer’s cooking up. His brain moves a lot faster than yours. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

“God will forgive me for what I must do.” 

You can feel your eyes widen as Cyrus raises the gun to Spencer’s head. You’re completely frozen, as if something’s physically holding you in place. 

Don’t be a hero.

You’ve been shot, idiot. Your shock response is all over the place. 

No, it’s different. 

Yeah. Sure. 

You roll your eyes at yourself, but quickly cover it by crinkling your face up in what you hope looks like confusion. 

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Cyrus looks at you and you shake your head, doing your best to look like a deer in headlights. “One of you does,” he says. “Who is it?”

Before you can open your mouth, Emily jumps in without hesitation. “Me. It’s me.” 

Spencer looks at her like she’s grown a second head. Cyrus lowers the gun and you take a breath. You don’t have much time to recover, though, as Cyrus snatches Emily by the hair and drags her out of the room. 

Your breath catches and you leap to your feet with Spencer. The dizziness doesn’t phase you, but your concern for Emily certainly does. 

Don’t cry. 

Don’t be a hero. 

There’s a gun to your head and you do your best to relax. You raise your good arm into the air, as if you could be a threat with a half-inch hole through your shoulder. 

Shit. 

+++

Between your gunshot wound and now listening to Emily getting the shit beat out of her, this is a bad day for Aaron. 

Someone else hauls you by your bad arm into another room, and you can’t help but yelp. They need to listen to Emily now, so you do your best to stifle the urge to cry out. You’ll answer all the questions as quietly as possible. 

They need to hear Emily. 

Aaron, please have ears in there. 

+++

Aaron very nearly throws the headphones off. He’d know your voice anywhere, even raised in pain. The overlapping cacophony of anguish breaks his chest wide open. 

“We gotta go in.” He stands and removes his headphones, unable to listen any longer. 

Rossi shakes his head, still tuned in. “We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.” 

+++

You can hear Emily through the wall, and you bite your tongue until it bleeds. The man (who still has a hold on your arm), throws you into a chair. You let out a small wail, but cover your mouth with your good hand before speaking. “Please, I -”

“Did you know?”

“No. No.” They need to hear Emily. 

“Tribulation breeds resilience,” the man says, dropping close to you. His thumb digs into your wound. It’s too much and you internally apologize to Aaron as you let out a sob. “God rewards the resilient. He rewards those who cleanse themselves of evil.”

“Please -” 

He shakes you and man does it hurt. The pain shoots from your shoulder to your fingertips and zings all the way down your back. You’re hot and cold at the same time and don’t have the energy to fight it anymore. You break down, and sound falls from your mouth as the man continues to preach at you, all the while tweaking and twisting and squeezing your shoulder. 

+++

“He’s got them both.” Aaron stands, his palms pressed flat to the table. Hearing you in that kind of pain ignites something white-hot in his chest. He hurts for Emily, too, but at least she’s still able to talk. 

“I can take it.” Emily’s voice rings clear through the headphones, and they all freeze.

“Wait - Wait. Listen to what she’s saying.” Dave gestures to Aaron, who reluctantly tunes back in. 

“I can take it.” 

Derek scoffs. “She’s antagonizing him.”

“She’s not talking to him.” Rossi remains firm. 

Aaron’s hands get lost in his hair, restless and frustrated and useless. He takes a breath and ignores the sting behind his eyes. “She’s talking to us. She’s telling us not to come in.” 

He knows Emily. She’s just as smart as she is strong and wouldn’t antagonize Benjamin on her own. 

There’s a particularly vicious commotion and Emily falls to the ground with a sharp groan and a cough. 

That’s it for Derek. He throws his headphones off and starts to pace. Aaron’s the only one who leaves the headphones on. Even then, his eyes mist up and his jaw is so tight he’s almost afraid his teeth will shatter. 

+++

You slump back against the chair. “I’m sorry she lied to you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words choke out of you with a gasp. Your shoulder screams and the pain is truly breathtaking. 

Emily will forgive you for throwing her under the bus - you know you’d forgive her if the situation was reversed. 

Cyrus throws the door open. “The agent’s going upstairs. The other two are clean.” He looks at you with a certain degree of contempt and you keep your eyes on the floor. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

Don't be a hero. 

Why those two phrases keep echoing around in your head, you have no idea. Nevertheless, they’re both good reminders. 

You’re returned to Spencer and slide into a chair. You tip your head back against the wall and listen to Cyrus question him. 

Why didn’t Spencer get beat up?

Not that you wanted Spencer to get beat up, of course, but it all seemed a little inequitable. You’d already been shot - isn’t that enough excitement for one day?

“On the next call, you should test them.” 

Oh, how I love you, Spencer Reid. 

He continues. “Test the negotiator. Make him prove he isn’t a liar.” 

This would only work if they had ears in the building. If Spencer has faith, so do you. Tears prick at your eyes and you think of Aaron. 

Please tell me he didn’t hear me. Please tell me they only had ears on Emily. 

You’re still the baby of the team, the newest, the youngest. You know that’s why Aaron watches out for you so carefully. He’s just protecting you. 

At least, that’s what you choose to believe. The other option is ridiculous, absurd, and nothing but wishful thinking. 

Don’t be a child. 

Spencer has Cyrus right where he wants him. You suppress a smile and hope it passes as a grimace. 

“What about you?” Cyrus turns on you and you’re proud when you don’t flinch. “What do you think?”

You shrug with your one good shoulder. “It’s a good idea, and the offer to exchange a child for information is a show of good faith. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” 

+++

Dave and Aaron share a glance. 

“They’ve got him.” 

A swell of pride crashes through Aaron’s chest. It’s just because you’re his youngest agent - the most time, the most potential. He has to keep you safe, he reasons. It’s the right thing to do. 

That’s not the only reason. 

He shakes his head, but the thought has its claws dug in deep. 

+++

As Cyrus reads the list of names, Emily appears at your side again. 

She looks awful - half her face painted with red and purple bruises, with more blossoming under her collar. You almost laugh aloud when she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Emily, you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

She huffs. “I didn’t get shot. Just a little beat up. We’re good. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

Spencer’s mouth presses into a thin line. You both know she’s lying. “I’m so sorry.” Moments later, he relays the information for both your ears and your team outside. 

Cyrus looks at you, and you almost think he’s going to let you go, but his gaze slides past you. Spencer approaches him and they speak in hushed tones. 

When they’re through, Cyrus gestures to Emily and a pair of goons. “Take her back.”  

Emily looks only the slightest bit alarm as she’s taken back upstairs by the arm. If Spencer’s in, and Emily’s out, where does that leave you?

You elect yourself Reid’s shadow, silent and always right off his shoulder. Cyrus doesn’t seem to mind too much and if he does, he doesn’t show it. 

+++

“Drugging the food isn’t an option because of the children. We’ll have to go in.” The whiteboard marker twirls between Aaron’s fingers as he thinks. 

Indeed. Rossi, from his place in the corner, says, “The best time to hit them is when they’re least mentally prepared.”

“3am. Biorhythms are at their low point, then.”

“We need a diversion,” Derek notes. “Something that plays into his expectations.” 

Humvees, then, are clearly on the docket. As are bright lights and all the flash and glamour of federal law enforcement. 

Hotch and Morgan begin to volley, both men processing and paying close attention. 

“The plan depends on our people separating the diehards from the followers -” 

Derek interrupts, finishing Aaron’s thought. “And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault.” 

“No, that’s not my main concern. They know what they need to do.” 

“So what is your concern?”

“Letting them know when we’re coming. The whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3am.” A thought comes to him then, and he reaches for a sharpie and a lid. Maybe your weird understanding of each other will come in handy, or Spencer will be looking for those signs he alluded to with Cyrus. 

Either way, it’s the only option. 

+++

Downstairs with Spencer, something catches your eye. 

Wait a minute. 

You’d know that blocky, left-hand slanted lettering anywhere. Aaron. 

Spencer sees it, too, and you share a glance. You offer him a little smile, and he nods, understanding you completely. This might just work. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Cyrus startles you a little, and you step closer to Spencer. Your wound dressing has yet to be changed today, and the heat radiating off your shoulder has made you a little jumpy.

Just my luck to survive all of this and die of an entirely treatable infection like a sickly Victorian child. 

 “You don’t have to be a part of this. You can go.” He addresses the both of you, and bite your tongue again. You have to trust Spencer’s plan, and you know he has one. 

As you suspected, Spencer says, “I would prefer to stay. Somebody needs to tell your story.” 

“I’m glad it will be you.” Cyrus turns his gaze to you, and you nod. 

“I’ll stay.” 

He softens a little, and calls someone over. In what feels like seconds, you’re sitting down while gentle hands clean and re-dress your wound. It hurts like all hell, but you’d rather do this than throw the whole damn arm out. 

As you sit, Cyrus’s plan becomes clear. Explosives seem to pass from hand to hand without hesitation. 

Where’s Emily? 

+++

Aaron has no idea how long he’s been staring at the compound. He’s wound tighter than a spring, his body all straight lines of stress as Rossi approaches him. 

Finally, Aaron says, “I know I can’t go in there.” There’s too much at stake, too much on the line, too many emotions. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind in a place he won’t acknowledge, that he would prioritize you. 

So, he can’t go in there. 

Dave nods. “I’m going.”

“If something happens to Prentiss or Reid or…” he trails off, unable to speak the thought aloud. “I - I don’t know.”

Dave looks over at him, understanding all the things he can and can’t say. “You’re not alone.”

+++

You can feel a shift in the air as 3am creeps nearer and nearer. Outside, inside, it’s all alive with activity and anxiety. You hug your arm to your chest, nursing a bottle of water. With fresh dressings, you feel a little cleaner, a little safer, but you know it’s an illusion. 

“Something’s wrong.” The goon’s observation brings Cyrus to the front window, and even over his shoulder you can see the humvees advancing on the compound. 

Nice work, team. 

“They lied to us,” he whispers something to his shadow. While Cyrus grabs his firearm, the shadow opens the door. The gunfire startles you, and you look to Spencer. 

Tell me it’s gonna be okay. 

His eyes are steady on yours and he nods almost imperceptibly. We’re going to be fine. 

Some of the lights go out and your eyes dance around the room. 

Aaron, this better be part of your plan. 

“It came from inside the building.” 

“Check the fuses.” 

The rapid discussions fly around you, but you keep your eyes on Spencer as much as you can. He’s spitting verses at the men around Cyrus, stalling. Luckily, Spencer could talk about nothing and everything forever. 

You knew that would come in handy one day, even if it drives you up the wall outside of life-or-death hostage situations. 

“...I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Cyrus smacks Spencer with the butt of his rifle, and Spencer doubles over. You can’t help him - not with one arm and certainly not without a weapon of your own. 

“You cannot convert my brothers.” Cyrus hits him again, and Spencer drops to the floor, and you crouch beside him, the very picture of fear. Oddly, you’re less afraid right now than you were before. “No one had to follow. God could have stopped me.”

There’s a breach, and you cover Spencer with your body as bullets fly past you from all sides. Cyrus goes down, and so does the detonator. 

“He just did.” 

You almost snort as you rise, but you rapidly remember time is of the essence. 

“You alright, kid?” You’re not sure if Derek’s talking to you or Spencer, but you nod anyway. 

Spencer, too, responds in kind. “Fine. Where’s Emily?”

“We got her out of here.” 

The breath you’ve been holding since she disappeared again leaves you, but a heavy throb of your shoulder replaces it. 

The girl you’re here for in the first place, Jessica, rounds the corner and you have a sinking feeling you know exactly what she’s going to do. Nevertheless, Derek calls out to her. “Sweetheart, come with me. We need to get you out of here. Come on. Let’s go, right now.” 

You snag Spencer’s sweater in your hand and follow him to the door. You watch as Jessica takes in Cyrus’s body, clocks the detonator, and then reaches for it. Spencer leaves your grasp.

You’re hot on his heels and it’s only then you have another fleeting thought of not making it back home. 

“Run!”

Derek’s behind you. You only hope it’s enough time. 

The explosion rocks you to your core and for a moment you’re not sure whether you’re alive or dead. When the ringing in your ears cools off, Derek has his arm around you. The smoke covers everything. Your eyes burn, coughs rattling through your chest and wracking your shoulder. 

You hear your last name, as well as Derek’s and Spencer’s. It’s Emily. 

She’s scared. 

Derek helps you straighten, and guides you down the steps. “We’re alright!”

You still can’t talk for your coughing, but you hear Emily’s relieved, “Oh, God.” 

She meets you in the middle while Aaron waits at the bottom of the stairs. He’s watching you. Emily touches the side of your face and you lean into it. You’re a little on the outside as she gathers Spencer into her arms. 

There’s something going on by Aaron, but you can’t quite hear it yet. Whatever it is, it’s over before Aaron’s hand is extended toward you. When your fingers meet his palm, he brings you close, careful of your shoulder. His hand meets the back of your head, and you press your face into his neck, blocking out as much as you can.

You don’t exchange words. There’s no need. 

He tucks you under his arm and you pass Jessica’s mother, watching the burning compound with bewildered eyes. 

+++

You sleep on the plane, your head resting against the window. Just as you suspected, you developed a small infection on the last day in the compound, but it’s nothing two weeks’ worth of antibiotics can’t fix. 

Hotch sits beside you, pretending to read something or another. His eyes keep tracking the same line over and over again. The moments where he thought he’d lost all three of you to the explosion plays back in his mind again and again and again. 

You can hear him thinking and you crack an eyelid. “Hotch.”

He immediately turns his head, ready to get whatever you need. Frankly, you look miserable. “Yeah?”

“We’re fine.” 

An eyebrow raises. 

“Fine. I’m shot and Emily’s beat to hell, but we’re alive.” You reach for his sleeve, running your fingers over the fabric. “I think you saved my ass, by the way.”

You pull your hand back. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Something in me kept telling me ‘Don’t do anything stupid!’ ‘Don’t be a hero!’ and I’m certain it can be attributed to your undue influence on me.”

The corners of his lips turn up just the tiniest amount. “Maybe so.” He slips his blazer off and drapes it over you. “Sleep. You need it.” He sees you about to interrupt him and cuts you off. “If I see you in the office at all before next week…” The empty threat speaks for itself. 

“Trust me. After my near-death experience, the last thing I want to be looking at is you.” 

Liar. 

“The feeling is mutual. You look terrible.” He smiles for real this time and you return it. A whisper passes through his head, and he pretends he doesn’t notice. 

Liar. 

+++

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#a joyful future #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future fanfic

[goldentsum]

— delivery boy

PAIRING: shinsou x reader

GENRE: fluff, awkward scenes

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY: a sleep-deprived college student just trying to get by the hellhole he’s in by getting a job as a delivery boy. shinsou hates what he does but if he can get a certain cutie, it might lessen his hatred for his job. 

TAGS: college au, just fluff with soft and awkward shinsou, sleep-deprived! shinsou as always, cursing, crack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: quarantine made me do it. sighhh, can’t i have a cute delivery boy everytime i order shit? also, shinsou is me pls. D:<

shinsou hates his job. he doesn’t like it one bit. the way some orders are too long that he was using his big brain juice all the time or when someone cancels their order when he already bought the fucking food, he absolutely hates it. his faith in humanity is decreasing at a rapid speed with his job, not like it exists to begin with anyway.

the purple-haired male is proud of his 4.0 gpa despite him slowly losing his sanity as he lose sleep over it but there was this asshole of a teacher in literature 3 was making it difficult to maintain it just because the old geezer has his head stuck in his ass and he won’t even give them the ppt slides, that asshole. 

shinsou rubbed his tired eyes while his one hand typed on his computer, listening to the asshole professor in front. the male craned his neck and massaged his neck then took a quick sip of coffee, closing his eyes as he did so. when he opened his eyes the slide in front was already different, making him put down his drink in surprise and tried to copy the notes in a hurry, cursing quietly when he noticed that the last sentence in his notes was cut off.

he fussed over his notes because it was the only thing that’s keeping him from failing the class. the professor was an asshole and liked to pick on his students and shinsou absolutely hates him. he swears when he graduates, he’ll curse the professor off and flip him off as he walks away from this hellhole. 

when the class finished, shinsou looked at his notes in horror. it was cut off in a lot of places and so incoherent that when he tried to read it, he thought he gave himself an aneurysm because of it. 

his tired eyes stared blankly at his screen while his internal monologue went on about how he’ll just find a sugar mommy and live his best life while the other students went out the room. his thoughts were then cut off when he heard an oh so familiar voice echoing out to him like a siren in the sea. 

purple eyes turned to the side and saw you with your friends who were waiting outside the classroom door as you walked away from his sight. shinsou’s not gonna admit it but he finds you really pretty. you’re just so soft and small compared to him. your sweet smile was always present every morning unlike his dead eyes and resting bitch face. annoyingly, you always distract him from the lessons which freaks him out. 

no one has ever fazed him but then you came along with your annoyingly pretty face and aesthetic outfits. always sitting beside him, you smelled really sweet too as creepy as that sounds, and you always greet him with such softness that it made him wanna vomit rainbows and sparkles. no one has ever caught his attention so how the hell can you distract him without even doing anything? 

also, why do you write your notes in a notebook and still make it look really good and clean? every time he looks over to your side, he sees your notes and his eyes bulge out when your pretty handwriting, the cute and small illustrations, and pretty colors of your notes fill his sight. 

that’s also one of the things shinsou liked admired about you. you’re probably the only person in your whole batch who writes their notes on a notebook, not that it’s a bad thing but how can your notes still be so pretty and organized even with professor asshole’s hellish pace of changing the slides? 

shinsou sighed and ran a hand through his messy tresses then fixed his things up to get away from the hellhole and come home to his lovely bed. It must've been at least 24 hours since he last slept because he was up all night the other day to fix and perfect every assignment in the devil’s class. 

when he finally got to his dorm, a huge sigh of relief left him as the tall male practically collapsed on his bed. his fatigue overcame him in an instant as his eyes closed in instinct, finally sleeping after stressing so much and intaking coffee, lots of coffee. thank god that it was friday and he didn’t have to wake up early because he finally passed his requirements to every class for the semester.

it was already the next afternoon when shinsou woke up, his body ached but at least he wasn’t running on caffeine to keep him from falling over and dying on the spot. 

loud clanking was heard from his kitchen as he perked up in confusion for a moment then groaned in dread when he realized who it was. shinsou let his head hit the pillow once again, staring at his ceiling and he felt a headache coming in already.

fucking kaminari is in his dorm again. he didn’t get the blond’s actions but the latter always told him that he was “making sure he wasn’t dead yet” but shinsou knows that kaminari only wants free food but he appreciates the effort, he guesses but can’t kaminari check if he wasn’t dead a little quieter? 

he sighed in annoyance and grabbed his phone, going out after stretching and feeling his bone pop satisfyingly. shinsou was greeted with the sight of kaminari fighting with the sizzling oil on the pan in his kitchen. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” shinsou’s bored voice reached the blond male who looked at him and smiled, “morning dude. i noticed you had bacon so i’m gonna cook it.” 

shinsou was about to reply but the sharp yelp kaminari let out cut him off and he watched the shorter male curse at the pan, rubbing the spot where the hot oil hit him. 

he scoffed at the scene and shook his head as he sat on the couch and opened the tv. he was scrolling idly through the channels and when he didn’t find anything entertaining, he stopped on the news. 

opening his phone to check his social media feed as he let the tv and kaminari’s curses and screams become background noises. shinsou just wants to see what type of shit people are in these days and it wasn’t because he’s gonna stalk your account. definitely not that. 

shinsou scrolled through your pictures on ig, admiring the aesthetic ones combined with chaotic energy in your profile. he smiled a bit when he noticed you unarchived an old pic in your ig. you had shorter hair in the picture and wore some funky shades. 

“ohh~ who’s that? she’s cute” kaminari popped out behind him, looking at shinsou’s phone over his shoulders. shinsou jumped at his friend’s presence, letting go off his phone accidentally as he tried to grab it to not let it smack against the hard floor. 

when shinsou saved his phone, he whipped his head and glared at kaminari, “what the fuck, denki!” 

“geez, sorry man” the latter nervously chuckled and walked back to the kitchen with fear coursing in his body when the taller male’s glare didn’t falter. shinsou rolled his eyes at him and looked at his phone. his usual dead eyes widened whilst horror filled his system. 

on his phone, it showed your old picture from a year ago and on the bottom left, the heart was filled. shinsou quickly unliked the picture and threw the phone beside him on the couch as if it burned him. 

“what the fuck what the fuck no no no no--” he mumbled in distress, his heart beating a mile per second. he paled when he imagined seeing you again in class on monday. 

“i’m gonna puke,” shinsou muttered and held his head, eyes wavering in fear. kaminari poked his head from the kitchen and saw his distressed figure. 

“um? shinsou? are you okay, dude?” 

when he heard kaminari’s voice, his head whipped to him in a snap. shinsou smiled at him as a shiver ran down kaminari’s spine. “do i look okay, denki?” 

a loud scream echoed in shinsou’s dorm and that was the last time anyone has ever seen kaminari denki. rip. 

shinsou was stressing the fuck out, he even felt tears prick his eyes with how stressed out he is. nothing could compare to the stress he’s feeling right now well maybe his first finals was also this stressful but that’s not the point. kaminari tried to cheer him up with some bacon and eggs but the male was so snappy though he ate the food after denki left. 

after sulking in his dorm, he shook it off and tried to take his mind off it. he showered, worked out a bit in his room, and made some shake but the embarrassment was always looming in the back of his mind. you might think he’s a creep or something. you two barely talked to each other with only good mornings and pleasantries exchanged for the whole semester so what the hell is he gonna do?! 

before he knew it, he was accepting some orders in his phone to let out some steam and keep him busy. for the first 2 orders everything was fine but he suddenly got tired and the shame he left at his apartment was still in his system. so he accepted the last order for today before going back to his dorm to do his last resort of screaming into the void. he then went to the boba shop to get the orders. 

getting the order, he went straight to a nearby dorm in his campus that’s being shown in his phone to get the money and yeet himself out afterwards. shinsou rubbed his neck, mentally and physically tired after going around and delivering people their food and from getting a harsh life-changing embarrassment happen to him. he’s never gonna stalk you or anyone for that matter again and if he ever sees you again, he’s gonna jump through the nearest fucking window, he doesn’t even care anymore. 

as he rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open the door and get the heavy milk teas off his hand, he was already thinking of going to another school and just live a whole new second life. dramatic as that sounds but it was tempting at this point.

but life was not having it. life wants to see him suffer thoroughly. before he thought he just had some bad luck but now, he knows that life was fucking him over and laughing at his misery. 

the door opened and in came to view the last person he wants to see right now, you, and it’s not fair, why are you answering the door with an oversized shirt and some shorts with messy hair, looking like a goddamn cutie! you want to kill him, don’t you? 

your (e/c) eyes gleam with familiarity when you see the awkward tall male from your class and saw the precious boba in one of his hands.

“shinsou, right? i didn’t know you did delivery?” you smiled at him making the purple-headed male scream internally. he cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded, “y-yeah, the pay isn’t that much but it helps...” he replied so painfully awkward that if anyone sees you two, they’ll cringe. it was that bad.

but being the angel that you are, you giggled and nodded as if you weren’t affected by his awkwardness. he’s thankful for that. 

“wait a second, okay? i’ll get the payment” you chimed and he nodded as you run inside the dorm. shinsou’s mind was running a mile per second, did you not receive the notification of his shameful actions? or were you being an angel and sparing him the embarrassment? 

he wants to hibernate and never leave him bed after this. shinsou snapped out of his thoughts when he saw you jogging towards him with the same beautiful smile you wear everyday and he unconsciously straightened up. 

“here you go! thank you, shinsou!” you giggled and got the milk teas of his hands while you gave the money to him. 

“thank you, (y/n)... um, are you gonna drink all of that?” he asked, cursing his mouth when he just blurted it out. your eyebrows quirk playfully and chuckled, shaking your head no. 

“no, silly. my friends are inside” shinsou nodded stiffly and looked around making you two just stand in silence. a painfully awkward silence. shinsou saw you were about to say something but a loud voice from inside the room called out.

“(y/n), where the fuck are you?! the boba! ..shit-! i saw that, you cheater!” you looked back and rolled your eyes then looked back at him. you waved your hand at him with a smile, “well bye, shinsou. thanks again” and closed the door. 

shinsou exhaled a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, looking at the closed door. he then walked away though his eyes were going to the door again and again until he couldn’t see it anymore. he looked at his hand and saw a piece of paper inside the bundle of money. 

with furrowed brows, he opened the folded paper and he was floored! 

hi shinsou! call me sometime! :)

xxx-xxxxxxx

-(y/n) 

okay, maybe being a delivery boy isn’t so bad after all. he got your number didn’t he? talk about lucky! 

extra crack ending: when you and shinsou are finally dating

(y/n): so... are we really not gonna talk about the post that you liked in my ig?

shinsou: you knew?! 

(y/n): duh bitch.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha scenario #bnha scenarios #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #bnha headcanon #bnha fics #bnha x reader fluff #mha #mha x reader #mha imagine #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader fluff #shinso hitoshi #shinsou headcanons #bnha shinsou #shinsou #bakugou #kirishima #todoroki #midoriya #kaminari

[cycwrites]

WIP Things aka Unofficial Fic Tease

In order to remind myself that I’ve left all of you hanging for the rest of my trilogy rewrite, I thought I would post my unbeta’d, unedited, good with the bad chapter 1 for the second movie. I also have hope that it will make me feel guilty for taking so damn long and get back to it. Especially since I’ve basically closed myself off from writing (and the muses) and I’m trying to pry the doors back open because I really do miss sharing my stories with you guys.

I wrote this well over a year ago, along with a 2nd chapter that deals with the Dean’s office, and really just hope you like it. 

--------

About Damn Time 

Chapter One: So That Happened

Word Count: 2600 -------- ~B~

At the end of Beca’s junior year, two things of note happened.

First: Chloe, once again, made the decision to stay with Beca and the Bellas and failed Russian Lit for the third time.  Beca had tried to talk her out of it, torn between wanting Chloe to move forward in her life beyond Barden and guilt that she was relieved they wouldn’t have to figure out how to work a long distance relationship. She wasn’t ready to try that and couldn’t imagine leading the group without her.  But Chloe had insisted this was where she’d wanted to be and she didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

Second: The Bellas were asked to perform at President Obama’s 50th birthday celebration at the Kennedy Center on August 8th.

Beca had laughed when the call had come through the never used landline at the Bella house.

“Good afternoon, this is Mack Johnson and I’m calling on behalf of the White House…”

“Yeah right. Nice try, Jesse.” She hung up and pulled out her cell phone as she walked into the kitchen. Pausing by the counter she typed out a quick message to him.

Beca: I’ve gotta give you points for originality though. You almost sounded like an actual adult.

She poured herself a glass of lemonade before he answered.

Jesse: I’m going to take that as a compliment and ignore the wound to my manly pride, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Beca: Whatever you say, ‘Mack.’ If you’d said you were calling from anywhere but the White House I might’ve let you keep talking.

Instead of answering via text, Jesse called her.

“Are you day drinking, Mitchell?” Jesse clucked his tongue. “Without your lesbro? I’m hurt, Becaw.”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Beca lifted her glass and took a sip. “What inspired your call today?”

“Uh, your cryptic and confusing texts to me, of course.” Jesse chuckled. “Want to clue me in?”

Beca sighed. “Man you’re committed to this.”

“To what?”

Beca set her glass on the counter. “Fine – you just called me and –” She jumped as the phone in the living room rang for only the second time in her years at Barden. “Pretended… to be… from the White House.”

“I thought you said you weren’t drinking?” Jesse laughed but it sounded distant as Beca watched Chloe answer the phone.

Her girlfriend’s blue eyes went wide and locked on Beca’s as she said, “I’m sorry, did you say you’re calling from the White House?”

“Jesse?” Beca said absently.

“Yes, Beca?” His voice took on an echo as all the blood drained from her face.

“I gotta go pass out now.” She swallowed dryly. “I’ll call you later.”

“Beca wa-”

Beca had remained frozen in the kitchen while Chloe became more and more animated, frantically scribbling down notes on the notepad sitting beside the phone, though her voice was carefully calm and collected. Then she’d run into the kitchen, screaming and jumping in excitement and talking faster than Beca’s shocked mind could process. Drawn by the commotion like a frat boy to a kegger, the rest of the girls soon joined the chaos while Beca still stood frozen by the counter as they swirled around her.

The school had allowed them to stay on campus through the summer so they could discuss songs and choreography. The time had been a whirlwind of security checks and practice and everything they planned needed to be vetted by the performance organizers. Of course, since they’d come to the Bellas after their third ICCA win in a row, there weren’t any real problems.

Until the night of the performance when one set of tangled silks and a desire for no panty lines wrecked everything.

No pun intended.

~B~ Sunday, August 24th, 2014

Beca lay on their bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to Chloe pace beside her.

“I’ve ruined everything.” Pace to the head of the bed. “Destroyed our reputation.” Pace back to the foot. “Made the Bellas a joke.”

Beca sighed and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Chloe. It’s a capella. It’s already a jo-” She stopped as Chloe spun to face her, outraged. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Beca tried a smile. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” She let it slip when Chloe just stared at her and Beca dropped back down to gaze at the ceiling. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m the one who gave Amy the green-light to do ‘Wrecking Ball.’” Chloe resumed pacing.

“Because, despite most of her claims, she actually had done some training on the silks before coming to the states.” Beca countered, as she had for the past three weeks. “She was good on them and never once in our rehearsals did she get tangled up.”

“But-”

“No.” Beca cut her off and sat up, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged and face her. “We all agreed to let her do it. It was a group vote.” She softened her voice and held out her hand. “This isn’t all on you, Chlo.”

With a sigh, Chloe took her hand and let herself be tugged onto the bed. Beca stretched back out and Chloe settled against her side. “It feels like it.”

“That’s because you’re the one who looks out for us.” Beca gently rubbed her back. “No one could’ve predicted this, love.”

“No…” Chloe said grudgingly. “But…”

Beca cut her off again. “There’s no buts.”

“Except Amy’s.” Chloe huffed, tension that had begun to fade making her stiffen up again in Beca’s arms. “All over the news.” She groaned. “Why didn’t I just use the cloth I was freaking holding to cover her up?”

“Same reason I didn’t,” Beca said reasonably, having heard a version of this several times before. “My mind went blank and I couldn’t move. I just… kept waiting to wake up.”

“Same.” Chloe pressed her nose to Beca’s shoulder. “I still am. This is such a nightmare.”

“She feels bad.” Beca offered. “It was her idea to do that press conference.” She winced as Chloe snorted.

“Yeah, where she then tried to show her ‘silk burn’ to the entire world.” Chloe sat up and pushed herself off the bed. “Again.” She resumed pacing and Beca’s mind hunted around for anything she could say to defuse things.

“At least we saved Aubrey’s college legacy from Pukegate?” Even as the words were out of her mouth Beca knew they were stupid and wrong.

“And ruined ours with Muffgate.” Chloe snarled.

“I wish I could find the asshole that came up with that. Bet it was those podcast people and of course everyone else jumped on it.” Beca made a face. “It was an accident and eventually there will be another crisis for them to focus on.” She slid over to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over. “It won’t be forever, Chlo.”

Pace, turn. “But tomorrow we go see the Dean.” Pace, turn. “With those podcast people who are apparently actually part of the Collegiate A Cappella Association.”

“They’re still weird and he’s an ass.” Beca stood up and stretched as she heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs. “Think you’ll be able to enjoy yourself at dinner tonight?”

Chloe stopped by the small table they inherited from Aubrey and took a deep breath. “Of course. It’s Amy’s birthday. I’m not going to ruin it for her.” She flashed Beca a small grin, the first in an hour. “Why do you think I’m up here instead of downstairs?”

“Speaking of,” a new voice said from the stairs. “There’s maybe… A situation.” Jessica smiled apologetically when they both looked at her as she reached the top.

Beca sighed. “Of course there is.”

“Do I even want to know?” Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Probably not, but Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Coward,” Beca muttered. “She knows I can’t hit you because you’re too nice.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, quick like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Amy’s sitting on the couch. With a towel on her lap.” Jessica hesitated.

“That’s… Why is that a big deal?” Chloe asked, confused.

“She’s… commando. Because of her silk burn.” The blonde’s shoulders bounced once but she didn’t say anything else.

“I swear to fucking god I’m going to glue underwear on her,” Chloe muttered under her breath.

Beca was struck by a horrible thought. “Is she sitting on another towel?”

“We were afraid she’d show us if we asked.” Jessica looked at Beca. “That’s when Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Beca knew she was whining but couldn’t help it.

“Because you’re the captain.” Jessica shrugged again. “You can threaten her with cardio if she tries to flash us again.”

“Yeah but Amy doesn’t always listen to me and I don’t want to have flashbacks.” Beca reluctantly headed for the stairs as Jessica started back down.

“Birthday or not…” Chloe muttered as she followed.

“I’m sure Lilly has a hot glue gun you can use,” Beca mused, not surprised to find Ashley hanging out in the hallway when they left the attic.

“Don’t tempt me.” Chloe didn’t say anything else the entire trip down the stairs.

Beca rounded the corner, passing Jessica and Ashley who had stopped in the entry and came to a halt herself, Chloe running into her back.

All she could see was the back of Amy’s head but she appeared to be looking straight at Lilly who sat cross-legged on the ottoman and staring back.

“Do I even want to know?” Beca turned her head toward Jessica but didn’t take her eyes off the scene.

“I didn’t ask that either,” came the whispered reply.

Beca took a bracing breath then walked into the living room. Despite the reassurance that the covering towel existed, Beca didn’t relax until she saw it for herself. It was nothing personal against Amy, but Beca just didn’t want to see any of the Bellas naked, Chloe being the obvious exception. You never knew when the visual would pop back in your head and Amy had already shown up enough in the past few weeks to last a lifetime.

“Amy.” Beca looked up at a sound from the kitchen and saw Stacie leaning in the doorway with Cynthia Rose and Flo sitting at the center island.

“Captain.” Amy didn’t turn her head or avert her gaze.

“Are you guys in a staring contest?” Beca frowned, looking between the two women. “And if so why?”

“I don’t know,” Amy lifted one shoulder. “All I know is she hasn’t blinked since she sat down and why take the risk of losing.”

Beca felt her eyes twitch at the thought. “Jesus, please cut it out before my eyes start watering.” She stepped between them and Amy closed her eyes in relief.

“Thanks, Shawshank. That was starting to burn.” She started to lift one corner of the towel to wipe her eyes and Beca threw out her hand.

“Nope. That stays there.” Chloe said it before Beca could.

“Please tell me you’re sitting on another towel.” Beca sighed and ran her hand through her hair.

“Of course I am!” Amy actually looked indignant. “I’m not a heathen, Beca.” She rolled her eyes. “The pants I want to wear to dinner are tight, so I’m giving my bits time to breathe first.”

“Now that’s in my head.” Cynthia Rose muttered from the kitchen.

“That’s in all our heads,” Ashley said from the doorway behind them.

“You could always wear that blue skirt,” Chloe offered diplomatically. “That way you’re not uncomfortable for your birthday dinner.”

“I do look hot in that.” Amy thought about it while the rest of them made sounds of agreement. “Alright, you’ve swayed me. And as it’s almost that time, guess I’ll go upstairs and change.” She started to stand as Beca moved back then paused. “If you’d all turn around and give me some privacy while I wrap?”

Beca rolled her eyes as she turned to face the front window that, thankfully, had the curtains drawn. “That’s what you get for being half naked in the public areas of the house.”

“I got bored in my room.” Beca heard Amy stand up and the rustle of fabric. “Alright, I’m decent.”

“Hey!”

Beca jumped at the unexpected shout and looked over her shoulder. Stacie had come out of the kitchen and was pointing at the couch.

“That’s my favorite towel!” Outage filled her face. “I was looking for that for over a week!”

“It’s also the softest towel in the house.” Amy said as she picked it up, tucking the other firmly around her waist. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt when I’m sitting.”

A choked sound from behind her brought Beca’s eyes back around to Chloe, who was biting the inside of her cheek and trying not to giggle. “I’m sure she’ll wash it before she gives it back.”

Beca tried to choke back her laugh and ended up sounding like a pug with a cold as she snickered into her hand.

“I think…” Stacie sighed. “Happy Birthday, Amy. It’s all yours.”

“You sure, Stretch?” Amy threw the towel in question over her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll need it for much longer.”

“Yup.” Stacie nodded emphatically. “I’ll go get another one this weekend.”

“Thanks, Stacie.” Amy smiled at her before her lips twisted slightly. “Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“’S okay.” Stacie shrugged. “Now go get changed so we can celebrate your day.”

“Are you allowed to give me orders on my birthday?” Amy mused as she headed for the stairs.

“Probably not,” Beca said. “But I’ll probably do it anyway.”

“Bossy.” Chloe whispered behind her and Beca flashed her a grin.

“Alright.” Beca clapped her hands once. “Show’s over, let’s go get our party outfits on and get some grub. We’ve got a Bella to celebrate.”

Stacie walked past her, shaking her head. “Bossy.”

Beca let her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling. “I can’t with you two.”

“What?” Stacie paused in the door to the entry. “Did we do the thing again?”

“Yup.” Chloe pushed Beca toward the stairs. “I called her that thirty seconds ago.” She high fived Stacie over Beca’s shoulder when the tall woman grinned and held out her hand.

“Score one for us.” Stacie laughed and started up the stairs.

“I hate you guys.” Beca said weakly as she followed.

“Liar,” Chloe laughed and ran her hand down Beca’s back.

“Maybe.” Beca let Chloe go before her.

“Definitely.”

“Yeah yeah,” Beca waved her up the stairs, unable to help admiring the way Chloe’s muscles flexed as she moved. “But seriously, my stomach just woke up and if I don’t feed it soon it’s going to take over the world.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Stacie saluted as she stepped into her room.

“Smartass,” Beca threw back.

“And you love it.” Stacie closed the door with a laugh.

“Stop flirting with Stacie and let’s go change before you get hangry.” Chloe took her hand and tugged on it.

“She wishes,” Beca muttered but followed Chloe up to their room, ignoring the ‘Often’ that came from Stacie’s room behind them.

‘She’s got bat hearing, I swear.’ Beca thought to herself as she went to the closet to get her outfit for the night.

Tomorrow was still looming over them, but Beca pushed it all away, determined to think about Amy and the Bellas for the rest of the night.

It was one mistake and they’d just won three years in a row. Surely they weren’t in that much trouble.

Right?

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #all the other bellas #rise 1 #cyc fic tease #cyc motivational seeker

[ziracona]

It’s my Birthday today and I wanted to start it off with updating a fic I’m enjoying writing. Hope you enjoy the read. : )

[Fate Grand Order AU fic] The Kid (pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10, 11, ?)

----

“Okay so, sorry, I’m still doing a little catch-up,” mutters Robin as we reach another corner and pause. Ahead, Emiya holds up a hand for us to halt and we do.

“Robin, do you have the mana for May King?” I hear Emiya’s voice in my head. Which, I appreciate being looped in on. Kind of thought he was going to be more of a pain to work with just because he could be, but he’s surprisingly practical and easy to work with for the uncooperative introduction we have. He seems real familiar with Robin’s abilities; gotta wonder where and when exactly they did meet—'specially since Robin barely seems to remember him at all.

Unlike me, poor Ritsuka looks like the frequent mental chatter is still something she’s trying to get used to; zones out a little every time someone communicates this way. I get it—took me a while to not be weirded out myself my first time summoned, and that was with the ability coming naturally, since I was a spirit.

“Hold that thought,” whispers Robin to me, then mentally to us all, “Yeah, a few times if it’s short. This important?”

“It’s not a difficult hall,” replies Emiya mentally, “But there’s too many people interacting with their security measures, and we haven’t gotten enough of us free yet. If we can’t disarm the magecraft security system and their personnel at once, someone might stay up just long enough to hit an alarm, and I’d prefer we free as many of us as possible before they figure out what we’re up to, since-“ He almost hesitates, glancing at Ritsuka for a split second, but he doesn’t. “-they might just start to kill them.”

Makes sense. I know it. They have catalysts to get us all back, and we have no idea where those are. I hate it, but he’s right—they’d definitely do it. Pretty sure I see Ritsuka connecting the same dots.

“Roger. I’ll move ahead into position,” says Robin mentally, cracking his neck as he moves up, “Give me about six seconds to find a good vantage point, then I’ll go as soon as I sense mana from you going after the security system.”

“Can we help?” asks Ritsuka worriedly in my head.

“If something goes wrong,” replies Robin telepathically, “Hopefully we won’t need it.” He stands then. “Sorry Mast—Ritsuka. I’m going to take a little bit out of you with this, but it’s only a skill, utilized this way, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” At my side, Robin glances down and gives a nod, then vanishes—not to spirit form, just flat out invisible. God it’s so cool! It always has been. Wish I could vanish like that; be useful as hell when dodging pursuers or trying to get an edge! Wish it was a thing he could teach me, but it don’t work like that—it’s a skill earned in life, and it’s all the thief of the forest’s.

Ahead, Ritsuka’s eyes widen as she watches him vanish, but she follows where I think he might be—she’s connected more than we are to each other, so she probably has a better idea than I do. Honest, it’s weird to have a guess where he is at all; I...don’t think I’ve ever been co-servant to someone before. It’s different, but, I like it. I like having a team. I mean, I’ve had allies before, but this ain’t the same. I can sense Robin a little myself like this, but I gotta wonder just how different it feels to be a master.

Emiya places his hand against the wall and whispers somethin’, and I feel a pulse of mana from him and hear the sudden ‘flishk’ of drawn bow strings releasing and movement, plus one choked, barely audible cry, then several quiet thuds all in rapid succession.

“Clear,” comes Robin’s voice in our heads.

Emiya smiles and steps out, Ritsuka and me behind him, and Robin materializes ahead of us between five guards sprawled unconscious along the ground. Kinda amazed how well we’re doing so far—damn it I’m gonna jinx us, but still! Non-lethal is way harder, and we’re still doing ok.

Looking amazed by the scene, Ritsuka rushes up to Robin. “Wow, that was incredible!” she whispers excitedly, “How do you do that?  —How did you know he could do that?” she adds, turning big eyed to Emiya.

Robin and Emiya share a glance, slightly awkward. Huh, don’t seem like Emiya knows him too well, from the way he’s lookin’ at him; which makes it weirder he knows so much about his skills. Maybe…they fought? They don’t seem hostile to each other at all, but somethin’ like a Holy Grail War, where mages force you to kill each other, God knows I’ve fought my share of people I had no desire to kill and who really had no desire to kill me either. I could see it bein’ somethin’ like that. …Maybe?

“It’s uh, an inherited custom from the Celts,” says Robin, “I picked up some tricks, when I was on the run so much, and I guess it was pretty good, because as a servant, it lets me do that.”

Ritsuka looks at Emiya for his half of an answer.

“...We’ve met,” offers Emiya vaguely.

“Oh,” says Ritsuka in surprise, “So. You and Billy and Robin-?”

“—No, we never met,” I interject, gesturing between me and Emiya.

“Okay, so, different times?” checks Ritsuka, “When-”

“-I don’t mean to be rude,” says Emiya gently, “But we don’t really have time to discuss this.” He gestures to the waiting door and Ritsuka flushes.

“R-right—I’m sorry—it’s just interesting how you all meet and I want to know more—“

“-Hey, don’t worry kid,” says Robin, clapping her on the back, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know later. To answer your question,” he adds casually, moving to the door and drawing back a leg to kick, “I’m not sure about him, but I don’t remember.” With one solid slam from his foot, Robin snaps through the remaining physical lock on the door so it slides open, and in the one second before I’m distracted by what’s inside, I notice Emiya raise an eyebrow. Huh. So you do remember.

I get a glimpse into the room ahead then, and every thought goes out of my head. Except ‘The...hell?’

It’s different. It’s so different. I know it’s only been me and Robin so far, but it’s not the death bed with a withered corpse I expected at all. The spirit in this room is very much alive, and it is furious.

The cell is circular, with more seals carved into and drawn on the floor and walls and ceiling than I can process, and the spirit is dead center of them all, with heavy, bulky, painful looking restraints locked around his feet and forearms, another thick band around his waist and more on his thighs, his neck, his upper arms, each attached to a different heavy chain drawn taut, tugging in opposite directions of each other and making it as close as it can to impossible for him to move at all. He’s got a blindfold on too, also metal and painful looking, and a gag, but he’s not kneeling under the weight of it all like I was, or immobile and weak like Robin; he’s thrashing madly with the tiny, limited movement he has. His head snaps in our direction when we enter, and I hear his muffled, angry shouts even from here. He’s choking himself and ripping at the skin on his arms and legs and neck, but still, he’s fighting—and wildly. In fact, I’m pretty sure the seals around the room are the only thing keeping him captive at all.

It hurts to watch, seeing one of us rip blindly at his restraints, trying to break free like a dog being forced into in a fighting ring. But, I’m also impressed. Astounded. He doesn’t seem scared at all, just angry, and there’s something reassuring about it. ‘Specially since he’s short too.

“Huh,” says Emiya, the same look on his face I figure is on mine, and is definitely on Ritsuka. She snaps out of it first though, and starts to rush toward the blinded spirit, then hesitates because we’ve all balked too.

“...Can’t one of you break the locks? Like for Robin?” asks Ritsuka worriedly, half-turning to face us.

“Probably, but we don’t know what happens if we step in the circle,” explains Emiya, indicating the etchings above, below, and all around us.

“Yeah, I don’t speak mage runes, but I’m pretty sure that says some version of ‘if you’re a heroic spirit, get fucked,‘ ’cause I can feel that from here. —I got you though,” I add quickly, “move a little left and I’ll shoot one from here.” Thank God for long ranged skills! Both of the others seem chagrined I’m the first to think of this; can’t decide if I should be proud, or insulted by that.

Ritsuka hops to the side, and I aim, but I hesitate again with my gun drawn. The man in front of me is blinded and I don’t think he can hear well, because he ain’t reacted to anything we’ve said—only our presence—and he’s flipped out. If I free him, he might lash out, and Ritsuka is closer than we are. I’d rush in, of course, but I have no idea if stepping in that circle would paralyze me.

“Hey Boss—Partner?” I correct, lowering my gun just a little, “I don’t think he can hear well with that thing on his head. He’s panicked and angry—might be a bad idea to cut him loose without explaining who we are. Even if he don’t attack us, he’s probably gonna make a lot of noise, and we don’t need that.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, looking from him to me. Ahead, the spirit lunges in our direction with a fury I understand and makes me pretty sure I’m right that he has no idea who we are.

“Think you can calm him down? I could shout from here, but we don’t wanna he heard, and you probably got a better shot anyway. Not sure how much he can hear, but he’s gotta be able to hear a little, since he seems to know where we are without his eyes. Try talking to him—let him know we’re here to help ‘fore I break him free?” I suggest.

“Uhm,” she says, looking from him to me, “I’ll try.”

I feel bad immediately, seeing the moment of fear in her before she moves forward, so I take another step, close as I can get without hitting the circle, and call after her, “Don’t worry! Promise; he makes a move to hurt you, I’ll stop him before he even gets close; easy shot from here, ‘n I’m a crack shot—I won’t miss. ‘N don’t worry—won’t hurt him too much, either,” I add with a wink.

She glances back and smiles at me, worry mostly evaporated, and I grin back.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, and then she turns to the bound figure up ahead.

He hears her coming, and there’s a muffled scream of rage from him as he tears at the chains holding him back. We’re not any of us an easy thing to contain, and I can sense how much he knows it, how furious and how ready to make whoever did this pay.

Beside me, I sense movement and out of the corner of my eyes, and I make out Robin and Emiya both moving, Emiya first, materializing a bow and readying a shot like I am, Robin doing the same with an arrow on his crossbow, but pivoting to keep an eye behind us, on the hall. Bases covered.

Carefully, Ritsuka takes another step, edging closer. About fifteen feet from him now in the big room. He definitely knows where she is—even blindfolded, his head moves with her and he thrashes in her direction as threateningly as he can like he is. The restraints on his legs and arms are bulky, so I can’t see his hands or feet, but the places they end on his forearms and calves are bleeding from his attempts to rip free.

“I-it’s okay,” says Ritsuka, taking another careful step over one of the taut chains, and putting her hands up calming and nonthreateningly as she proceeds moving closer. He can’t see her, but of course she still is. “It’s alright. We a-”

The spirit uses his neck to rip the chain around it back with all his might, and I realize almost too late it’s the one she’s just now carefully stepping over.

I can’t think of a way to stop it long-distance, so I bolt. The second my foot goes over the first seal though, I feel an intense amount of mana hit me, and I knew it was coming, but it’s SO much worse than I expect, and I can’t move. It’s so much. It’s agonizing, like being hit with a bolt of lightning! The hell kind of seal-! Fuck! I—can move, damn it! I will!

I can! I can. I just... It takes immense effort, but I feel my muscles starting to move. I’m gonna be way too late—I should— 

Arm throbbing with pain, I drag my hand up to level a shot as the chain snaps into her leg and she yelps and pivots forward. If he has a real plan and some way to grab her, least I can shoot him first, but something closes around the back of my vest and I’m flung backwards with force onto the safe ground outside.

“Idiot!” calls Emiya irritated over his shoulder, “You don’t have the magic resistance of an Archer! Stay out there!”

He’s...right, but. Even Robin and he shouldn’t...?

How is he doing that?

It’s been less than two seconds and he’s already there. He barely even lost steam throwing me. I-I am watching him shoot to her side with such speed I could almost swear he teleported, through a bounded field. He catches Ritsuka like it’s nothing while she’s still in the air, and rights her as she yelps in surprise, then jumps and flings himself back out of range of the circle, landing just outside it far on the right side with a little wince and a grimace. I gape at him from on the ground. It did hurt then, doing that. The field—It did hit him. He just...got through? The hell kind of magic resistance you got? I know Archer’s a knight class and that gets you some, but...

This is something else. I don’t know what. I-I didn’t think any of us could move in there, once I felt it; that can’t just be magic resistance can it? But it’s something. I want to ask, but I know it’s not the time. He glances at me though, after making sure Ritsuka is fine and giving her a nod when she checks over his should to see if everything is okay and she should keep going, and I realize to my surprise I’m pretty sure he’s doing the same with me—checking in to see I’m okay. I manage a nod as well.

“You okay?” asks Robin from behind me.

“Yeah,” I answer. My gun’s been leveled the whole time, but I’m only now remembering to get to my feet again, and do, eyes on the chained spirit the whole time, “Those things always sting, but it ain’t as bad as some other recent memories.”

I kind of expect Robin to say something back, but he doesn’t, so I turn 100% of my attention to the people in the middle of the room.

“It’s okay!” tries Ritsuka again, facing the bound spirit but hesitating to move forward out there now, “Please stop fighting us! I’m not an enemy; we’re trying to help you, I swear!”

I don’t feel a change in the atmosphere at all—the spirit is still radiating anger—but he stops tearing at his bindings for a moment when she speaks and just stands there breathing hard, blindfolded eyes turned towards her and blood running down his neck and limbs.

“Thank you,” says Ritsuka, smiling and holding up a hand in thanks with the word even though he can’t see it, before moving forward again, “If you just listen, I-I can explain—I promise, we’re not here to hurt you. We aren’t with the people who locked you up. We broke in here to try and help. Everyone but me in here is another heroic spirit, and we’re all trying to help you—help all the spirits trapped in here!”

The man stays still and tilts his head slowly, considering her. Mistrustful, I think, like I was. But he’s hopeful, or desperate, too—not sure why they’d send her to lie, which is enough to make you hope.

“I-I’m gonna get a little closer now, okay?” says Ritsuka, edging towards him again, “And see if I can get any of those chains off you. The others can probably do it if I can’t, but they’re all spirits so they’re having a hard time getting past the uh—the seals.”

He tilts his head back upright and then the other way, and tracks her movement by sound as she gets closer. The guy is still breathing heavy and clearly on edge, but he lets her get close this time. 

When she reaches him, Ritsuka holds her hand up. I don’t think he’s going to lash out, but I don’t trust like that—‘specially knowing the pressure he’s under firsthand—and so I keep my gun trained on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay? To see if I can figure out how this is fastened. P-Please don’t hit me.”

She stutters nervously on that last line, and I see just a little of the tension in the man’s shoulders loosen. Interesting. I guess that means whoever he is, he ain’t the most hardened sort, if he’s feelin’ empathy for a stranger while trapped like that.

Ritsuka moves a little to the side for a better look and touches the back of the shackle blinding him, and he flinches and pulls away a half-inch on impulse, breathing quickening for a second, then goes still again. This must be agonizing for him.

“Really is okay!” I call out in a hushed voice, even though like that he probably can’t hear me. I can’t risk drawing security, but-

Emiya side-eyes me for a second. I can’t tell if the look is annoyed or amused. Guess it don’t matter.

“Okay—it’s pretty simple. Just a little bolt again,” says Ritsuka in relief. I hear a metallic ‘click’ and then she’s pulling the metal blindfold off him, and there’s a fairly young man—maybe early 30s at a guess—looking back at her then. He’s not very bulky, and taller than me, but not tall, kinda long and shaggy green hair, and a face I don’t recognize at all with red marks all over it where the metal bit in, a few little trickles of blood runnin’ down his forehead and cheekbones from it. The most notable thing though is the expression on his face. He registers Ritsuka’s form as she lowers the blindfold and his eyes go wide. The man blinks at her a few times, then quickly looks up, clocks me and Robin and Emiya, seems relieved, and looks back questioningly at Ritsuka. Almost all of his readiness to lash out has vanished in an instant.

“Hi,” says Ritsuka, smiling at him, “I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru. Nice to meet you. Thank you for not hitting me.”

The man blinks again, and gives her a little nod. I see more of his tension ease. 

“I’m really sorry this happened to you. We’re here to help—those two were stuck here too.” She pauses to point to me and Robin, and I give him a little hat tip, Robin a two-fingered wave in acknowledgement.

Our Master—I mean partner—friend? —Ritsuka, she looks down at some of the other oddly bulky shackles, and then back up at the now much more calmly waiting man. I’m trying to guess who he could be. We had letter, earring, kunai, and a pot, according to her, ‘long with my and Robin’s catalysts. He’s definitely not Asian—looks maybe...middle eastern, Semitic? Not sure though. Either way, I’m willing to bet he’s not the kunai, so that leaves broken pot, earring, and letter. None of which help much. I don’t have a good guess, and that’s only if they haven’t gotten more since Ritsuka saw catalysts anyway, but, whoever he is, he seems level-headed and decent at least, so I’m takin’ this all so far as a good sign.

“The ones on your arms and legs have real locks, so I’m not sure I can get them—I’ll have to have one of the guys shoot them off from outside the circle,” says Ritsuka, looking sorry. 

I look at Robin and Emiya, because what I got’s loud; the two of them exchange looks, and Emiya sighs and turns to study the chains for a second, then summons a long, thin…arrow? and draws.

“But let me get the gag first—I think I can get that too,” says Ritsuka smiling at the man as she reaches up to do it. Much less on his guard now, he stoops for her to make it easier to reach, still watching her carefully though. Or, actually, interested more than careful, maybe, at second glance. Huh. Very level-headed man.

The gag makes a snap sound, and Ritsuka pulls it off. Relieved, the man opens his mouth and kind of rolls his jaw, trying to get the taste of it out, then straightens back up and smiles at Ritsuka. “Well thank you very much, for that and the rescue.”

Unbelievably calm. But I don’t think he’s being fake—he’s just got some kinda personality.

“Where did you come from, Miss...Fujimaru, yes?” he asks, and she nods, “How did someone as young as you end up-” he tries to gesture, immediately hits already taut chain, and winces, “-here?”

“Wrong, or, right, depending on how you look at it, place at the right time,” answers Ritsuka.

He’s definitely curious, but he just gives a nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh—before you do that,” she says to Emiya, then turns back to the man, “Uhm, you’re probably connected to the building somehow, and if we break those, you’ll run out of mana. Or. You aren’t actually that hurt,” she adds like she’s only just now really thinking about it, “But you’ll still vanish pretty fast if we sever your connection to mana, won’t you?”

“Yes and no,” says the man, clearly surprised by how much she has figured out, “You’re right they somehow altered the contracts to let the technology itself provide us with mana, and we can break the contracts physically, like you would killing a Master, by breaking the machine.”

“Why?” she asks, lost.

“They want to sell us. This makes us easily transportable, and it’s not like a mage could support one of us alone outside a ritual easily anyway,” says the man, a bit of that earlier rage and spite sinking back into his tone. He refocuses on Ritsuka and smiles again. “But I’m an Archer, so I can survive for a little bit on my own—week or two—without an anchor, since I’m not in terrible shape.”

“Another fucking Archer?” asks Robin without thinking, almost affronted disbelief in his voice and his face when I turn to look and see him gaping.

Wait.

“Oh shit, he’s right! Did they only take Archers? Why??” I ask.

“That is almost upsetting somehow,” says Emiya thoughtfully, “They didn’t summon me, but two and a half out of six of you so far is still super weird.”

“You’d think we’d be less good picks, since we can survive so long on our own. They should be grabin’ Casters or somethin’,” I agree in confusion.

“Wait, all three of you are Archers?” asks the man.

“I’m a gunner,” I say like ‘kind of’ while Robin says “Yeah,” with irritation and Emiya says, “I guess.”

“That is weird,” says the man to Ritsuka, “but I don’t think we have time to discuss it. Their security might not be perfect, but they aren’t idiots.”

She nods. “Uhm, okay. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need to contract right now to be okay, but if you’d like to—to help you fight better or without worrying about disappearing, you can contract with me—if you want.”

His expression is one of a man hearing something that made complete sense until suddenly it made absolutely none at all. “...C. ...You? But.” He looks over at the rest of us, then back at her, “are none of the others...? -You know, outside a ritual, even a strong mage will be exhausted by that?”

“Oh, I know,” says Ritsuka quickly, nodding, “I’m not good at magic yet, and can’t do almost any spells, but my circuits are weird and apparently I have such a massive pool of mana I can support multiple heroic spirits on my own without a grail or anything!”

He stares at her like that straight up can’t compute. Blinks slowly. Looks at us.

“Yeah,” I say. She looks so proud of herself. It makes me happy! And weirdly proud too.

“It’s true,” agrees Robin, “Got no idea how many she can carry, but we’re three so far, and she hasn’t slowed down a bit.”

“Wow,” says the man, looking back at her with big eyes, “That’s quite a skill.” He considers for a moment and then smiles to himself. “Todah,” he says quietly, almost fondly, and then, “What a blessing; God never ceases to surprise. I will happily take you up on your offer Ba’al, I accept.” He gives a little, awkward and slightly painful looking bow as best he can still bound. “My true name is David, and I am an Archer. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, surprised and flattered. She flushes and holds out a hand, then realizes he can’t take one the way it is. He smiles at her and bows his head forward instead, resting it against her outstretched fingers. “Uhm.” She takes a second to find her footing. “My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and agree, accept me and join, Archer.”

It’s softer than I’ve heard her say it before. Funny how many ways I’ve heard it now. Desperate, to me, afraid of losing me. Intense and pleading, to Emiya, begging for help. Kind and intent and sincere to Robin. And now here, soft and happy. I got no idea why that’s all so significant to me, but it is. I feel like I’m gonna remember it. I hope I will.

…I…

….Haven’t thought about that for a while, but now that the thought’s there, my gut sinks and my heart with it.

I might not. …So often, the Throne won’t let us remember anything from a summon once we die and get dragged back to it. God only knows how many Ritsukas I didn’t want to forget as bad as I don’t wanna forget this now, and don’t even get to know to be sad I can’t remember.

I hate that thought. ...

In the center of the room, a light flashes from Ritsuka’s hand at the point of connection, and I can feel a faint attachment of my own to David now. Try to focus on that instead. On how odd it feels to be under the same master as someone else, but not bad—just so different, in a way it’s hard to really get over.

David, he said? Right—which David? WAIT.

“David?” I ask way too fast, interrupting this beautiful moment without thinking, my mind completely blank outside of one sudden fear, “Wait, which David who’s an Archer—you’re not-?”

He looks over surprised and then gives me a kind of sheepish smile. “King David of Israel. Son of Jesse and Nitzevet, father of Solomon, my successor.”

Oh my God. Oh God; fuck—I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him.

Emiya is taking this in stride, but Robin looks at least a little something, and Ritsuka’s eyes have gone huge. “You’re a king? Wait. You’re from. -” She’s floundering, so I step in to save her.

“-King David? I—Hi, Billy the Kid; I’m so honored to meet you! I never met a Biblical-uhh-T-Torah-ical,” shit now I’m floundering worse god damn it; I was trying I—I just never seen someone from the...th-the actual religion that—I practice, before—I.

Totally nonplussed, King David shakes his head dismissively with a smile. “I know what you mean; pleased to meet you all. Please though, just call me David. My days as a King are long past, and on the Throne, I have been called to serve others again. I was a shepherd before I was a king, and I have always been the both. Think of me as just another companion, because right now, it’s who I am.”

“Whoa,” says Ritsuka, still a little pale and in awe, “Th-thank you. Okay, David. I-It’s great to meet you too. —I’m so sorry! What am I doing?! -Emiya, can you?” She glances over and sees his bow drawn, nods, and hops out of his way. 

King David glances at Emiya, then holds perfectly still, and the archer draws a quick series of shots that tear through the restraints nearly simultaneously in a little shower of sparks and screeching metal. Some kinda style; don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot what was clearly swords just now off a bow string before. Huh. Who are you?

The chains fall away, and King David raises his arms and looks at his hands, flexes them, and takes in the bruising and lacerations on his body from trying to get free.

“I’ll try to heal you,” offers Ritsuka, stepping up to him. He glances over at her. “I’m still learning, so I’m not sure I can fix it all, but I’m sure I can help!”

He smiles and gives a nod, stoops a little and offers her his arms. She takes them in her hands, scrunches her face up and shuts her eyes, and I sense a quick, small pulse of mana. It’s amazing how much she picked up in one night. I’m kinda in awe, watchin’ the worst bruises fade, and the cuts that are still bleeding close up and start to heal. It ain’t perfect, like me, like Robin, but it’s a hell of a lot, and King David looks pleased and maybe a little impressed himself.

“Thank you, Ba’al,” says King David, “I’m good to go now.”

Ritsuka opens her eyes and beams at him. She’s sweating a little again from the effort, but it ain’t bad. She’s holdin’ up like a champ so far. “Great!” she says, “Let’s get moving, then!” She takes a step and spins right back around back to face King David. “—Oh. Can you walk out okay? Do I need to carry you?”

Kind David looks incredibly tickled by that offer, but he shakes his head. “I’ve got extremely good magic resistance, even for an Archer—I’d love to get out of this seal now though—it’s quite agonizing.” Without extra comment, he slides his hands under her armpits and lifts her up, then speed single-hops right out of the seal, like Emiya did, and sets her down gently. 

“Oh—uh—thanks,” says Ritsuka, surprised but not bothered, “okay—sorry for taking so long,” she adds to us three, “Let’s get to the next one!”

Emiya gives a nod and moves to take point again, motioning us after.

“Question,” says Robin quietly as we slide out into the hall, watching King David’s surprised and little else expression as he takes in the unconscious guards, “I’m uh, really glad for you that you weren’t on death’s door like us—don’t get me wrong—but I thought that was their whole thing. Why were you just kind of...imprisoned? It’s a weird break of form. Might be significant.”

“Oh, that,” says David, “it is a break of form, but it’s not very significant, except I guess as proof they’re not exactly the most seasoned of field mages, no matter how much money, staff, and technical skill they have. They didn’t know which King they were going to get, summoning me. Just the general power of the catalyst—guess they got it not very legally, even for a catalyst. And unfortunately for them, I’m not a great candidate for death-battery-whatever they’re doing, because I died peacefully in my sleep as an old man.”

“The dream,” I say just loud enough for only Robin next to me to hear, and he shoots me a barely restrained smile.

“So then,” continues Robin, “Why keep you? Dangerous to leave one of us alive and motivated to rip shit apart.”

“Mmm,” agrees King David with a nod, “But they weren’t going to keep me. They were going to sell me, contract and all, to the highest bidder. Contacted a lot of mage groups.”

Ritsuka looks so horrified hearing that. It’s sweet, and a little sad, because Robin and I aren’t even surprised by it. It’s not really even odd; it makes sense. That’s how mages act, and that’s how we get treated.

“Any idea who or what for?” asks Robin.

“Hey,” comes Emiya’s voice in our heads, “Uh ahead. Sensing a containment field like the rest, but no guards at all this time.”

“That’s...weird,” says Ritsuka back mentally. She keeps closing her eyes to talk in her head when she starts, and it’s endearingly funny to watch. “I mean...I don’t want to jinx us, but hasn’t this all been...too easy? When I got Billy out, I had a huge explosion and the element of surprise, and no tripped alarms and a working pass, and I still barely got out. Here they’re already on high alert, and we’ve freed three heroic spirits now, and they’re not guarding the rest or checking their rooms?”

Huh. I mean, I’m not as familiar as she is with building security, but she’s right that they’ve been...weirdly placed.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, tone firm, “it is strange. There are a lot of armed people here, and security, but even with all the luck in the world, it’s almost unbelievable they haven’t pinpointed us yet, and we haven’t hit more security. It’s like...”

“...A trap?” I ask nervously.

“...No,” says Emiya out loud as we all reach a corner and pause together, “It’s like someone’s helping us.”

“What?” says Ritsuka, taken aback.

“There’s too many people weirdly scattered for it to feel like a trap,” says Emiya, “It’s more like watching moves on a shogi board where someone is trying very hard to make sure they lose. The pieces are all here, they just keep...being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or, sure not being in the right one anyway.”

“Nobody helped you before, right?” I ask.

Ritsuka shakes her head.

Considering, King David tilts his head and lets out low ‘hmmmm,’ then says, “…There are people here right now, for me.”

“Hm?” says Robin.

“Other mage groups—their representatives. Rivals, some of them. To bid. It’s possible, not sure, but, someone might be grabbing this opportunity for a little self-serving corporate espionage.”

“God willing,” says Robin, cracking his neck again, “Love it if some selfish spineless little prick picked now to do something that helps us. Enemy of my enemy, and all.”

“That seems plausible, but since we can’t be sure, I know there’s no point saying ‘stay alert’ when we all already are, but, be ready for something to go wrong. It might,” says Emiya, and then he grimaces like ‘maybe shouldn’t have said that,’ looks at Ritsuka, and says, “it also might not. Just pays to prepare.”

She nods, and we all turn to face the hall. Emiya places his hand on the wall again and I feel a faint pulse of mana from him.

“Yup, definitely a servant up ahead. One floor up, almost directly above us. ‘Bout one room further,” says Emiya, pointing, “We can take the elevator shaft—probably less likely to draw attention than destroying the floor, and if we do have someone helping us with some corporate espionage or just a really incompetent new security staff, let’s not make it hard on them to keep going.”

#fate grand order fic #fate go AU #Fate Go Billy the Kid #Ritsuka Fujimaru #The Kid (fic) #The Kid #Fgo Billy the Kid #fate billy the kid #fgo #fate go #writing #fate go fic #Fate Go Robin Hood #Fgo Robin Hood #Fate Robin Hood #Archer Emiya #Fate King David #Fgo King David #Fate grand order King David #fate go king david #long post #idk but it's right on the border so seems like I should tag it as that #anway happy birthday me! : )

[bestie-enthusiast]

A Means To An End

Summary: After chasing a lead into a neaby building, Sam and Bucky get to see a more... vunrable side of the Baron.

This fic is inspired by @morganbritton132

They had been chasing a lead, one of the cars that supposedly belonged to the Flag Smashers had been spotted outside of a small theatre. They had speculated it was a supply stop, or maybe a place to lay low. Zemo had taken them, in a surprisingly non-attention-drawing car, to about a block away from the theatre, and they started to walk the rest of the way there.

“It is privately owned, from what I understand.” Zemo explained to them. “The owners, most likely powerful and influential individuals, are either unaware of what's going on, or are actively supporting the group.”

Sam nodded, “Makes sense to me. Do we have to worry about them being there?” Zemo shook his head.

“Most likely not. They would have no reason to be inside unless they are also super soldiers.” Sam hummed in agreement and turned to Bucky, who had been silent.

“Are you good, man?” He asked quietly as they grew closer to the theatre.

“This feels like a trap.” Bucky grumbled, glaring at the small, but lavish, building that they had stopped in front of. “They’ve been staying at the camps and keeping supplies there. This feels out of character.”

Sam frowned, “Well maybe they needed a place to lay low, they know we’ve been tracking the houses they’ve been staying at, so maybe this is how they're trying to throw us off?” Bucky nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

Zemo led them into the theatre, effortlessly navigating the building. It was much larger on the inside than it appeared. As they wound their way deeper and deeper into the building, Bucky seemed to grow more and more agitated, until he froze.

“Bucky?” Sam asked worriedly, looking at the range of emotions passing over his friend's face.

“Shh,” Bucky hissed quietly, tilting his head towards a wall. Sam barely had the time to open his mouth when an explosion rocked the building. He felt something hit his head, and passed out.

-

Sam blinked awake, groaning at the dryness of his mouth. It took a few moments for him to remember what happened, but he didn’t feel too bad, so he assumed everything was good. He wasn’t completely covered in the ruins of the theatre, which is good, and after relieving himself of the rest of it, everything seemed to be intact, aside from some bruising and some cuts.

He looked around and spotted Bucky, who seemed to be just waking up as well, and walked over to help him up. Not that he needed it.

After the two of them had (somewhat subty) looked over the other for any signs of damage, they set about scouring the building for anything of use. Bucky was walking with a limp, and Sam had a minor concussion, but they were both still breathing and alive. They stumbled through, leaning on the other or on the nearest (standing) wall whenever they needed it.

That was when Sam remembered Zemo, and Bucky heard a voice.

“Fuck.” They said in unison, looking at the other in surprise.

“Zemo,” Sam explained in a single word, watching as Bucky let out a tense sigh.

“I heard someone.” Bucky said back, looking in the direction he had heard a whimper. It was very faint, but still present. “We don’t know who was in here. Could be a civilian.” Sam nodded and Bucky led them in the direction he heard the cry. As Bucky and Sam grew closer, Bucky was able to discern the voice as a sort of pained mewling, someone on the edge of hysteria that threatened to consume them. Sam also grew more concerned as Bucky led them into a more unstable and ruined part of the theatre.

The pathetic cry’s grew louder as the drew near to the source, and the weakness and vulnerability in them was the reason neither Sam nor Bucky thought that it could possibly be the missing Baron until they laid eyes upon him.

Zemo, in short, looked like a mess. A cut on his hairline was pouring blood down his face as the man curled in on himself. His hands were bleeding, the skin on his fingers rubbed raw after being used to scratch as concrete and metal. His appearance and injuries weren't the worst part though, no the worst part was what he was saying.

“Heike, Carl, Papa.” Over and over, like a mantra. Even as he choked on dust he continued to repeat the phrase. His voice sounded wrecked, ripped to shreds by screams no one had heard. It was very clear that Zemo just wasn’t there. He was not present as he repeated those three words even as he gasped for air and his voice cracked and crumbled.

Sam reacted before Bucky, gently calling out to Zemo. Even as he raised his voice Zemo did not respond, not even a flinch at the volume. Bucky tried next. He gently prodded at the Baron’s hands, once again not even eliciting a flinch. Bucky tried again with more force, pressing both of Zemo’s hands tightly against his chest. It was a very tense few moments as the Baron because lucid once again.

The usual sharpness returned to his eyes, although the tears were still present. Zemo blinked at them, and for once the Baron looked ashamed of himself.

“Apologies, you should not have seen that.” The man quietly apologised, wincing at the way his voice cracked. Sam and Bucky both just shook their heads, helping Zemo up. They all stumbled out of the rubble together, and Zemo spared himself a glance at the two men helping him. Bucky had a sort of empathetic understanding in his eyes, eyes far too soft to be looking at a criminal such as himself. Sam gave him a look of understanding, although it felt more like pity than anything. Zemo knew both men had experience with PTSD, but he never wished for them to know he struggled with it as well.

They staggered through the streets, Zemo carefully keeping quiet about the sharp pain in his ankle every time he took a step. It would be better if they just left him alone for some time once they arrived back at his safe house, and they would not leave him alone if they knew the extent of his physical injuries, let alone his mental ones.

And so he kept quiet. When they made it into the safehouse, Zemo let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding in. He let himself relax minutely now that they were in a safe location. It had been a taxing experience, and all he wished was for some space to once again grieve and mourn for his family. Unfortunately, it did not appear that Sam nor James would be giving him such a privilege, and so he continued to do his best to hold apart his now fragile mask. “So.” Sam said once they had all settled on the couch in the main room of the house. It was a tense, but not unwelcome intrusion into their silence, nevertheless Zemo flinched at the sudden noise.

“So.” He repeated quietly, knowing that as long as he spoke in quiet, quick sentences they would not be able to tell his voice was still quiet ruined and cracking. Zemo resisted the urge to curl up, to bring his feet into his person and rest his chin on his knees. It would be a very childish position and not to mention, vulnerable. It was a very tense few moments before Zemo decided to speak again.

“Do I have your permission to sleep or-” his voice cracked again as he thought of sleep. No doubt it would be nightmare filled. “Or do I have to sit in this st-stifling silence longer?” He could feel himself flush at his simple inability to speak a proper sentence, but silently hoped it would convince Sam and his sympathetic and pity-filled body to let him go.

“Oh, uhh, sure man. Whatever you want.” That was all he needed. He walked as fast as he could, without making it obvious he was eager to leave, to the closest bedroom. He locked the door behind him, relishing in the comfort the simple click brought him. He toed off his shoes and shrugged off all of his clothes sans boxers, and collapsed onto the bed. He started shaking with the effort that it was taking to hold everything, and so he let it out. Every single bit of pain and grief and anguish that he felt as he was relieving the memory. He could taste the dust in the air, remember the pain in his hands that he ignored as he dug his family from underneath the rubble.

It all felt so real, like it was happening again. Like he was truly relieving the worst moments of his entire life again. Like he was- he was experiencing the destruction of his whole world again, he could physically feel the pain in his heart as he recalled the memory.

He sobbed and screamed into the pillows on the bed, shaking like a leaf in a storm all the while. It didn’t take long for the pain to turn into exhaustion and numbness. For the grief to turn into mourning. He let out a shaky breath as his tears started to slow and his shakes turned less violent.

He felt nauseous but all too tired to even think about expelling energy to have something to drink, so instead he focussed on just passing the fuck out.

And hey! It worked.

Or at least he thought it did. He was pretty certain it did. Especially when he opened his eyes to see his papa’s ruined mansion in front of him. He inhaled the scent of dust and smoke, eyes already watering as he stared at the remains of his once luxurious childhood home. He stumbled down to the basement where he knew his bodies would be, solidifying the fact that this was a dream. In reality, it had taken him much longer to search the basement, holding out hope that the caved ceiling wouldn’t be covering their bodies. He stumbled down until he was directly in front of the spot he knew their bodies were buried, and started to dig. He dug and dug even as his hands screamed at him (or was it him screaming?) and the pain became near unbearable, until he was able to make out a small, pale wrist underneath all the rubble.

He clutched it like a lifeline, checking for a pulse for a very long moment. He already knew there wouldn’t be one, but every time he had this dream he still held out hope. He continued to claw at the remains, more careful now, until his entire family was uncovered. And just like every other time he had this nightmare, he carefully checked for pulses, breathing, anything, and just like every other time, there was nothing.

He allowed his tears to fall in the privacy of his family’s ruined home, and hoped to wake soon. If the dream continued on like this, he would be testing the theory of whether or not dying in your dreams can make you die in real life.

Thankfully, he woke up soon after. Although the way in which he woke up was not the most pleasant. He awoke to a loud thudding on his door and someone shouting his name. He felt somewhat delirious and wondered if he had picked up an infection. He grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe off of a chair and pulled it on, tying it loosely as he unlocked and opened the door.

Sam Wilson stood before him, looking uncharastically concerned. Well the man regularly looked concerned, it was just that he was concerned with Zemo that was abnormal.

“What?” Zemo asked tonelessly. He was too emotionally exhausted to use any snark or sarcasm.

“You were screaming,” Sam replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Zemo suddenly felt awkward as well.

“Oh.” He was usually silent during his nightmare, but the day's events appeared to have affected his subconscious more than he had thought. “Apologies.”

“No it's fine, I just… you got me and Buck real concerned earlier, and I thought maybe…” Maybe he had gone into another flashback.

Zemo shook his head, “Just nightmares. I should recover just fine in a few days.” Sam looked nervous, but didn’t push it. He left soon after. As soon as he was out of sight Zemo let out a quiet brief, sagging against his door frame. He knew that the right thing to do would be to talk, to open up and spill out all his vulnerability so that they could pick through it like vultures and decide whether or not he was worth helping. He did not believe he was worth helping, and so he would not do the so called right thing.

He would not bear his soul only to have it crushed.

He would not let himself believe that maybe people did care after all.

Because he was only a means to a necessary end. And there was no need to complicate things further by adding his own emotions into the mix.

No. He would stay strong. This wouldn’t affect his performance on the field, and he would not let it affect his newly acquired acquaintanceship with the two men who assisted him in his escape from prison.

A means to an end. That was it.

#fanfiction #fanfic #tfatws fanfiction #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #bucky #bucky barnes #james barnes #Sam Wilson #The falcon #angst #hurt no comfort #hurt some comfort #hurt/comfort #flashbacks #nightmares #whump

[residentanchor-writes]

Downside Ch. 2

Summary: Clyde tries his hand at ‘robbing’ a bank. << Chapter 1 Watch the animatic here. Check out the Downside au @robinsdownside! TW: Cursing, mental manipulation

Clyde was anxiously sitting in his trashy car in front of the bank. He wasn't too sure of the thing he was about to do. But he needed the money and he couldn’t crash at Remy’s place forever.

Checking his face in the rearview mirror again, he gladly noted that the makeup still hid his scales that seemed to like to appear more often on his face than anywhere else now. He also let his hair grow out quite a bit to hide them a little behind bangs that fell over the left side of his face. By now he nearly looked like an emo. Working with that style, he wore a gray scarf that hid the scales that had appeared on his neck as well.

Looking down on himself he wondered if his yellow shirt and black leather jacket were casual enough.

Yeah, probably. He was thinking too hard about this. Or not hard enough.

Breathing in through his nose and letting the air slowly out through slightly parted lips, he got out of his car. He could see his breath in the air in front of him. It has gotten pretty cold since he left his parents with the most valued things he had, including his pet snake, a few weeks ago.

With a faked confident walk as he squared his shoulders, he got closer to the glass door and stepped into the building.

He was extremely lucky, there were only three other people inside. Two women who worked there as the tellers and one man who was talking to the woman on the left, so Clyde went to the other teller on the right.

“Hello, sir. What can I help you with, today?” the brunette in the white blouse asked with a sweet smile.

Clyde put on as much charm as he could muster as he smiled back. “Hello there, I hope you're having a lovely day. I'm here to make a withdrawal.”

He was good at pretending to be a more likable person than he actually was. He always wanted to be an actor, but never went to any auditions for school plays because of his social status as one of the “cool kids” that smoked and drank alcohol behind the school. The entire thing was an act in his school days, but he was good at adapting to change.

“Very well, your name sir?”

“Oh, no.” He chuckled “I was under the impression that you just wanted to give it to me,” his smile widened a little.

The woman gave him an amused sound, taking it as a joke. Out of the corner of his eye, Clyde could see the other man leaving the bank. It was just him and the two tellers alone, now.

“Good one, sir, but this would be easier with a name,” The woman spoke with a chuckle. The other teller woman went into a back door and slipped away for the moment. Perfect.

“Well if you want to call me something, I think you could just go with Deceit,” He spoke with a calmness he wouldn’t have thought he could muster at this moment. He felt his hands shaking and start to sweat as he held down his nervousness.

The woman’s smile faltered a little. “Excuse me?”

Clyde looked back over her shoulder to make sure the other girl was really gone. Then, he looked back into the sweet face in front of him which got more confused by the second.

The perfect opportunity.

He looked in her deep blue eyes.

“You wanted to give me $50,000, right? That’s why I’m here.”

His left eye shimmered and glowed with a light yellow and he noticed the familiar sensation of an itch on his left forearm.

He still looked at the woman who stared back with a face he couldn’t quite put into place. It was nearly blank but still a little puzzled at his words.

That happened every time but he always felt the nervousness at that moment again and again. A million thoughts rushed into his head, like what if it didn’t work (again) or what if he phrased it wrong? Happens to the best, and this scenario was new to him.

This was the first time he did something really bad. Usually, he used his powers to get out of trouble for smaller things or to get free booze, but stealing $50,000 directly out of a bank, in bright daylight? That was insanity!

He had felt a weird sensation in his gut since he began ‘planning’ this. Honestly, this whole ‘rob a bank’ thing was an idea he and Remy had the night before while they were balls drunk in the basement of Rem’s parents. His parents that had no clue Clyde was even hiding there.

Rem was two years younger than him but was a pretty chill dude he had hung out with in school. He was the only one he could count on that wouldn’t snitch him out to anyone about his powers and where he was, because, well, he had powers too. Powers Remy’s parents weren’t very fond of, so they generally stayed away from the cellar.

The woman blinked as she awoke from a daze. The moment surely wasn’t longer than a second, but to Clyde, it felt like years.

The brunette locked eyes with him again and put her smile from the beginning back on.

“Of course, I remember now. It will only be a second, Mr. Deceit.”

--------

“Fuck! I did it!”

Clyde opened the basement door so fast he nearly broke it out of the old, rusty hinges. A very startled Remy, who looked like he had just been woken up, fought his way out of the blanket that had been lying on him.

He had been sleeping on his disgusting makeshift bed, which was made of just two stacked mattresses on top of the cold concrete ground. The basement looked like it should have been finished years ago but no one ever bothered to finish the job. At night, they took one of the mattresses off and slid it onto the floor next to the other so that Clyde didn’t have to sleep out on the bean bag. They had tried that the first night, but it resulted in a stiff back and a very grumpy Clyde in the morning.

Clyde-- er, Deceit moved a few steps forward, to click on the floor lamp that only had an old light bulb screwed on top and no lamp shade. The lightbulb was a normal, fluorescent bulb which somehow exclusively produced greenish light. Clyde had asked about that the second day he had stayed here but Remy too didn’t exactly know why either, not that he cared.

With the light, the messy room had become a little more visible. It was even dirtier than Clyde's old room had been, especially since he had moved in. They both didn’t really care enough to clean all the filthy clothes of the ground except when they ran out of fresh clothes, in which case Remy had to go upstairs with a decent sized pile that was unsuspicious to his parents since they didn’t have to know about Clyde’s existence in Remy’s room.

If they found out about the other kid with powers in their basement? That would mean massive trouble for both of them.

Remy’s guardians were already not on best terms with their son since he had intruded their dreams by accident on more than one occasion. They didn’t hate him but Remy had sometimes messed up their sleep so much that they were first confused what was happening, then they screamed at him to stop and at last, they started to get him out of the way.

He was ok with that. He was just in his basement room, enjoying his life without the worry that his parents would storm in.

But if they knew that he invited someone else to live at their house without their knowledge, they would be very mad. They would probably scream at him again and would call Clyde’s parents, even though he was actually old enough to live on his own, as a 19-year-old. Clyde just didn’t have the money to live on his own. He had been fired a few months ago from his job at the pet shop.

He had to leave his home weeks ago in order to hide his powers from his family as the scales became more and more obvious, so he came to the only one he knew that would at least understand.

It wasn’t much fun sleeping next to someone who had the ability to go into your dreams whenever both of them slept at the same time. Rem didn’t do it on purpose of course, the closer you sleep next to him the more likely it is that he just stumbles into your dream by accident. That's why he had to sleep in the basement, while his parents slept on the third floor. They simply wanted him as far away at night as possible.

What the two did all day now was lying around in the dirty cellar on the green bean bag and the mattresses and talked about everything and nothing. Somedays they played games on the old arcade machine Remy had or they had matches on his kicker, all while smoking pot or drinking beer Clyde brought back every time he went out.

But not this time. This time he brought something better. Money. And lots of it.

Remy tried focusing on the guy with the weird scales in front of him as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, “Wha-?”

Deceit ripped away the blanket and threw a full plastic bag him. It hit him in the chest, where you could read ‘Never SLEEP again’ on a gray shirt, and caused him to lay down again with the bag sitting on top of him.

“I said I did it! I actually did it, I stole the money!” Deceit stood proudly next to the ‘bed’, hands on his hips, with the broadest smile Remy had ever seen on the guy. It kinda creeped him out, to be honest.

Then the bank robber turned around into the direction of the old foosball table and lifted his arm triumphantly into the air and tilted his head back so he looked at the ceiling.

“Oh my god! I feel great! This was way better than drugs!” he screamed in euphoria.

Remy leaned up on his elbow and let the bag fall next to him on the bed.

“Flippin’ shut up, man! You're gonna wake the whole street shoutin’ like that.”

Deceit turned his head back to his friend, puzzled.

“It's 5 in the afternoon?”

“Oh really? I'm up early,” the sleepy head grinned.

Deceit made a face at him that could only have meant ‘you fu**king serious?’

Rem's eyes fell on the plastic bag next to him. With one hand he lifted a handle and looked inside. His eyes widened, only now had he realized what Deceit had actually done. He shot up straight on the mattress and put the bag on the ground so he could take a bundle of hundred dollar notes out. He ran a finger across the stop slowly as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

“Jesus Christ, you actually did it?!” he looked up shocked at the criminal who now faced him again. With the head movement, the green shade sunglasses that had apparently been lying on his purple dyed and messy hair the whole time he slept, fell onto his nose.

“Hell yeah, I did! And it was so easy too! Like stealing a lolly from a baby.”

The seventeen-year-old sitting on the mattresses gathered himself enough to get a little of his sass back.

“Cliché.” He looked back down to the pile of money. “Jeez, how much even is this?”

“50,000 bugs,” Dee’s eyes sparkled saying that.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, I can't believe it! I thought we were just joking around yesterday! We were drunk for fucks sake!”

Remy would have never thought that Clyde would actually do something this incredibly stupid. They just talked like idiots about how they could have anything they wanted if they used their powers more, not that he ever actually considered doing so.

“Come on, just imagine what we can do with that much money!” Deceit stepped closer to him, gesturing with his hands.

“With the stolen money.”

“No one knows that!”

“Babe, don't you think 50k will be missed? Where did you even get that from? The bank like we said?” he took his shades with his forefinger and thumb on the rim of the glasses and slid them down a bit so he could look into Deceit's eyes.

“Yeah and no, no one knows I took the money. I made sure the woman was the only one there and I just made her give it to me.”

“50k in cash. Someone will miss that! They’re going to notice that much missing! Did you think of the cameras?” Rem’s eyebrows furrowed as he put his shades back on properly.

“I do not like to repeat myself. She just handed it to me! It looks completely innocent on camera. And as far as she knows, that money belongs to me.”

Deceit got frustrated with his friend. Just the night before he also loved the idea and now he was lecturing him?!

“You can't keep the money here, babe. I'm not ok with that much stolen cash under my roof!”

“It will be gone soon anyway.” He tried again to reason. This was a good thing, why couldn’t he see it?

“You need to leave,” The voice sounded monotone.

Deceit’s shoulders fell. “What?”

“Clyde, sweetie, don’t get me wrong. I'm totally up for all kinds of stupid shit but that's a bit too far man and I really don't want to get in trouble because of you.”

“So, you're throwing me out?”

“You have enough money to rent a hotel room,” he said gesturing to the bag at his feet.

Deceit looked with disbelief into the green-tinted sunglasses that hid Remy’s emotions pretty well.

How could he just throw him out? He thought the other would be happy about the money. He would have even shared it with him for letting him stay here, but now…

He growled “Fine. I'll leave. I don't need you anymore anyway. I can do whatever I want without you. Just don't come crawling back to me when I'm ruling the city.”

“Sure thing rip-off Disney villain.”

“You've seen the last of me.”

With that Deceit took his luggage, bound the bag of money to it and lifted a small terrarium with Terrence in it under his arm and left the basement.

Remy let out a shaky breath into the stifling air of his room.

For a second there, he had been afraid that Clyde- no, Deceit would use his powers on him.

---- Chapter 3>>

#downside au #Sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #ts deceit #ts sleep #ts janus #non canon name deceit #superpower au #ts downside au #ts remy