#he’s asleep in a recliner like just go to bed sir

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 11

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, touching, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Part of The Club AU

You feel like you can finally catch your breath once Lee leaves for work. Even so, what happened in the car lingers. You sit with Hickory, playing with a feather toy, but find it hard to settle down. Maybe it’s because you’re not used to this place, or maybe it’s him.

Why did you say that? 'You just did. ‘It’s all for you.’ You cringe to think of it. You must’ve sounded so dumb.

The kitten tires and you watch him fall asleep. You move him to the cat bed in the corner and go into the bedroom. You want to sleep on the couch but Lee didn’t think it was a good idea. He told you if he found you on the couch, he might have to tan your hide, whatever that means.

You can’t get comfortable, not really. You recline against the pillows and scroll restlessly through your phone. You should sleep. You have to get studying done tomorrow and you never get very far when you’re exhausted. Your motivation to even start is tenuous at best.

Your phone buzzes. A message from Lee. You wiggle and press down before you can think. Shoot, he’s going to see that you read it. You won’t be able to lie and say you were already asleep. You’re not very good at lying anyhow.

‘Still awake?’

A simple message but it feels like more. You shift and answer it honestly. ‘Yes’.

He isn’t long to reply. You almost hoped he’d be too busy with work. You see the three dots pending.

‘Good, you in bed tho?’

Again, an honest answer. And once more, the dots.

‘Naked?’

You almost throw your phone. Oh god! Why– you can’t even think of it. Being naked in his bed. You just stare at the phone, trapped in the decision. Yes or no? Lie or the truth? You don’t know which one he wants.

Your phone starts to shake, more than just a message. You answer the video call but don’t say a word. You’re entirely unprepared for this.

“Hey, darlin’,” Lee greets, “ah, lookit you, getting cozy.”

“Uh, sir, yes,” you sit up completely. “I just… Hickory just fell asleep so–”

“Shh, shh, shhhh,” he hushes you as the chatter of voices babbles behind him. “I’m just taking a break.”

“Oh,” you blink at the screen, seeing yourself in the corner. You can’t see too much of him in the shadows.

“Sweet thing, I want you waitin’ for me naked.”

“What?”

“In the mornin’, when I get in, I’m gonna crawl right in and give you a treat.”

“Lee, sir, I–”

“Now, darlin’, I don’t got time to argue with you. Right? I’m workin’ hard here. Literally,” he snorts, “I gotta be here so I can keep care of Hickory, so you just be good girl for me and be ready.”

“I…” you bite your lip, “yes, sir.”

“That’s what i like to hear, blossom, you get lots of rest,” he smiles, “oh and, don’t be shy with that toy. You wanna make sure you know how to feel good, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum and give a frantic nod, burning with humiliation.

“I’ll be thinking of you. Prettiest girl I ever knew,” he makes a kiss noise and hangs up.

You lower your phone to your lap. You glance over at the night table. He left the toy there. You don’t touch it but tug at your shirt. You can only hope he’s too tired in the morning, or forgets all about it.

💮

A waft of cool air wakes you up. The blankets ripple over you and warmth crawls up your legs. You open your eyes and look down at the lump beneath the covers.

Lee’s breath fans over you, making your twitch. He kisses your leg, just above your knee, then higher, and higher. Up and up and up as he pushes between your thighs. You squeak as he opens you to him, his hand trailing along your pelvis.

“Lee!” You squeal as goosebumps prickle across your skin.

He hushes you just before his nuzzles into your warm cunt. His cool tongue dips between your folds and you quiver. You grasp the blankets in tight fists and arch your back. He laps at you hungrily, groaning loudly as he drinks you up. You’ve never felt anything like this, not even with the toy.

He stretches his arm up, tickling your stomach, then cup your chest. He reminds you of your nakedness as he fondles you, purring into you. You gulp and gasp, overtaken by the vibrant sensations.

His other hand tickles along your ass and up your thigh, pushing it against his face. You moan, eyes rolling back as you sink into the mattress. He slips his hand to your hip and suddenly rolls over, taking you with him.

You cry out and sit up, perched atop his face as the blanket falls away from you. He lays flat on his back, hand firm on your hip as he forces you to stay. You twine your fingers into his thick hair as you wobble atop him, lifting the brunt of your weight from his head.

He guides you, tilting your pelvis as he flicks his tongue, spreading it wide, sucking, and tasting. You follow his motion, easing into it, your delight driving your building fervour. Stupefied by your sudden awakening, you can’t stop. You want more. You’re almost there, that familiar peak fast approaching.

He purrs and gropes your ass. He encourages you as he buries his face against your cunt. You feel him moving beneath you, his arm reaching down his body. You flutter your eyes open and peek over your shoulder. He’s playing with himself at the same time.

He urges you to keep going, drawing your attention back with a pinch on your ass. You exclaim and clutch his hair. You rock over him, riding towards your looming climax. You hang your head back and whimper as your motion turns spastic. There it is.

You cum, bucking desperately until you crest the rise. You descend, slowing, rolling your hips as you cling to the after waves of pleasure. Lee turns his face away and puffs out, grunting loudly as he quakes beneath you. He bites into your thigh as his arm pumps faster and faster.

He stills, unclasping his teeth from your flesh. He juts out his square jaw and snarls. He slaps your ass and nudges you off of him.

You unhook your leg from over him and fall onto your ass, hiding behind your bent legs as you hug them. Lee holds out his shiny hand and chuckles. He still wears most of his clothes but his pants are halfway down his thighs.

“Wasn’t that a treat indeed, sweet thing?”

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #au #drabble #series #nightlife #the devil all the time

[hutchersonsgurl]

Mr Jealous - Mike Schmidt

Paring X Female Reader with Mike Schmidt

Part 3

18+ smut warning ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

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

You go back behind the bar and finish your shift while Mike stays to make sure you are safe

Fast forward to your shift >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You holding Mike's hand as the two of you are about to leave but he sees your boss from the corner of his eye

"Hang on a second babe," Mike says as he walks over to your boss looking pissed

Mike walks over to the counter and stares at him with his brown eyes filled with anger

"Can I help you sir? The boss says

" Actually yes he grabs the guy by his shirt I'm here to tell you that my girlfriend quits the only man she gets to dress like that for is me, " Mike says with anger in his voice

Mike punches your boss well now I guess ex-boss mike grabs you by the hand and the two of you drive home

Mike unlocks the door and lets you walk in first and soon as you entered the room "YN your home " abby runs to you and gives you a big hug

"Hey abs aren't you supposed to be in bed?" You say as you give abby a squeeze back

"She didn't want to go to bed till you guys got back" max says

Mike is sitting on his recliner you can tell he's still mad

You look at mike and then back to max

"Thank you for watching her max you can go home now" you say with a smile

"Okay have a goodnight guys" max says as she leaves

You lock the front door and then you take abby to her room and get her to fall asleep

You walk out and you see mike watching TV

"Are you okay daddy? You say as you sit on his lap playing with his curls on his head

"Mhm" mike says

"Are you still mad about the outfit?" You questioned

Mike looks up at you his eyes are staring right through you

"Bedroom now " he says

You get up to the bedroom with mike in tow he smacks your ass as you walk into the bedroom he closes the door and pushes you down on the bed

He takes off all of your clothes and throws it on the foor he puts at the bottom of the bed with a pillow under your head You were positioned at the bottom he pulls your thighs open he can see that you are already wet for him and it makes him smirk

"All of this for daddy? "Mike asked his fingers making their way to your wet clit. You whimpered and jolted at the connection, inching your legs wider for him. He rubbed circles around your bulging clit seeing how wet you are for him makes him proud he pulls back and takes off his clothes and throws them on the floor you sat up and kissed him as he grasped your tits, kneading them and squeezing on your nipples. You moaned into his mouth from the friction as you reached down to his crotch. He groaned when he felt your hand on his erection. You broke the kiss to stare at his length you pull his dick into your hand and put in your mouth

Your soft plush lips wrapped around his shaft like a ring that slid up and down his girthy length. Your doe eyes met his dark ones as your cheeks hollowed, making you moan around his cock. "Fuck baby I'm gonna cum" he says with a moan just as he says that he cums inside of your mouth and you pull his dick out of your mouth he kisses you once again and then he lets out a growl as he positions himself to get into your pussy he starts to push himself in and out of you Your hole was sloppy and wet, and a ring of his previous cum formed around his base. " please don't stop daddy" it feels s'good," you slurred out. He slapped your tits making you yelp and leaned down to suck on your lips. You moaned into his mouth as his cock fucked your pussy anomalistically. "'Pussy's so fucking good," he groaned against your lips I'm gonna fill you up with all my cum and make you pregnant" he continues you can't help but moan "Careful now don't wake up Abby or daddy can't keep fucking you," Mike says as he groans you muffle your moans with your hand

"Good girl" he says Your stomach twisted and you found yourself throbbing around his length, close to cumming. "Fuck I'm so close mike" you say Fuck, cum for me baby," he grunted through his teeth, making you unravel all around his cock, your cum dripping like warm honey on his length. With one final thrust he came too, shooting his load into your tight cunt. He pulled out and watched the mix of cum spill out of you, leaving a mess on your lower half

"Hang on baby girl let daddy clean you up " mike says he puts on his boxers and tshirt to go grab a rag he comes back into the room and shuts the door he cleans you up and the two of you cuddle in between the sheets "that felt amazing daddy" you say as you kiss mike once again well that outfit turned me on again the moment you came into the front room plus you sat on my lap you know what that does to me" mike says as he has his face in the crook of your neck

"I love you so much your mine forever "he says with voice muffled in your neck

"I love you more daddy" you say with a smile

"But baby are you serious about me moving in with you?" You question

"Fuck yeah I'll move everything myself if I have too" mike says pulling his face up and kisses you all over your face making you giggle

"Now let's get some sleep so we can officially move you in later" Mike says as he wraps his arms around you and the two of you fall asleep

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

Part 4

no edits

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's

[strangerthingfanfic]

Chapter 1; Halloween

Halloween, 1984

Jim Hopper the police chief of Hawkins, Indiana was heading home after being late for his Halloween movie marathon with Jane.

“So much for helping her to be half happy” he grumbled thinking of his promise.

Just as Hopper turned on the road to his cabin he slammed on the brakes.

In front of him stood a kid of about sixteen. He had dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes.

Hopper got out of his truck and went over to the kid who smelled a lot like alcohol.

“Hey kid what're you doing just standing in the middle of the road,” Hopper said questioning the youth.

The kid just stared at him and then threw up where he was standing.

“Let's get you, home kid,” Hopper said, guiding the young man into his truck.

As soon as the kid was inside, Hopper got in the driver's seat and asked “what's your name and where do you live”?

“William Hargrove sir and I live in hell,” the kid answered.

“Why do you live in hell, William?” Hopper asked calmly.

William looked at Hopper and said tears flowing “my daddy beats me every chance he gets, my birth mom abandoned me in hell when I was ten, my stepmom doesn't give a shit and my step-sister is treated like a mother fucking princess”.

Hopper knew he couldn't take this kid home so he started the truck and kept going toward his cabin.

Once they got there, Hopper helped William out of the car and over the tripwire and other traps he had laid out.

When he got to the door he did the secret knock he shared with Jane to keep her safe.

She answered the door with a sheet over her head, the eyes cut out. “You're late,” she said as she looked at William.

“I know and I'm sorry but I have a bag of candy and soda in the truck that I will get as soon as I lay William down on the couch,” Hopper said, kissing the top of Jane's head.

After lying William down he ran out and grabbed the candy and soda and the extra boxes of eggos he had gotten as an apology and went back in.

As soon as he got inside Jane grabbed the eggos and said “apology accepted” disappearing into the kitchen to put them in the freezer.

Hopper went to check on William who seemed to have fallen asleep. Placing a blanket over him, Hopper sat in his recliner and sighed.

In the morning he would call the school and get an address and also start filing for an arrest warrant against the father. It wouldn't take much to get since he could see the bruising around the kid's eye and the ones on his arms.

Suddenly he felt a weight on top of him as Jane settled herself of his lap with a bowl of candy and a huge glass of soda.

“Movie time munchkin,” Hopper asked, reaching around for a piece of candy and getting his hand slapped.

“Heck yeah,” Jane said and the rest of the evening was scary movies and way too much junk food.

Chapter 2: Justice

The next morning Hopper woke up with a sleeping kid on his lap and a teenage boy lying on his couch silently crying into a pillow.

Carefully picking up Jane he laid her on her bed thankful that she didn't attend public school due to her circumstances.

Going into the kitchen he started the coffee pot. He made William some eggos and a cup of milk and brought it in.

The kid's blue eyes swam with tears as Hopper helped him sit up. “Eat up William, you've had a hard night,” Hopper said and headed back to the kitchen to make himself something.

A few minutes later William came into the kitchen and because of how shaky he was the plate slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor shattering into a million pieces.

William froze. His face went pale and out of what Hopper could only take as an automatic reflex brought his arms up to cover his face.

“You're safe here William. Broken dishes happen. You're not in trouble” Hopper said softly and was relieved when the kid lowered his arms, the color slowly returning to his face.

Hopper led him back to the couch and got the kid to sit down.

“William, can you tell me everything so I can get you legally away from the pain,” Hopper said, placing a hand on the kid's knee.

William looked at Hopper and nodded.

“When I was ten my mom got up and abandoned me with my abusive dad. We lived in San Diego at that time.

About a year later my dad remarried and with that came my stepmom who didn't care what my dad did to me and my stepsister Max.

Max and I had a good relationship but I'm pretty sure Neil ruined that on purpose.

Anyways, we moved here a couple weeks ago and things are just the same as when we were in San Diego.

I got invited to a Halloween party yesterday and ended up getting bombed and that's when I ran into you.

I am afraid though if I don't go home he will start to hurt Max” William said taking a deep breath and laying his head against the back of the couch.

Hopper took a deep breath and looked William straight in his eyes and said “you won't be going back and we will get Max to safety William. You two can live with me and Jane here”.

Without notice, William threw his hands around Hopper and gave him a huge hug.

When he pulled away William said with a smile that would knock any living person off their feet, “could you call me Billy? I've always liked it better”.

Laughing Hopper nodded and headed to get ready for work, it was going to be a very long and painful day.

Jane got up and went and sat next to Billy. They started talking and laughing making Hopper feel even better about his choice. Billy had a safe space and Jane had a big brother to watch her while he was at work.

Going over to them, Hopper gave Jane a hug goodbye and half expecting Billy to shy away he was surprised when he gave him a hug as well.

“You two stay here, it's safest for you both got it” Hopper asked in a stern but loving tone.

Both Jane and Billy nodded and Hopper headed out to serve and protect.

Neil's work a few hours later

Hopper and his team went in and arrested Neil on the spot.

“You're being charged with child engagement and child abuse Neil Hargrove. My officer here will read you your rights” Hopper said and headed to their next destination with the rest of the team.

Susan Hargrove

The next stop was the Hargrove residence. There they arrested Susan for child engagement.

Hawkins Middle School

After his team had Susan in custody Hopper went alone to get Max from the middle school.

As she entered the principles office after being called in she looked like her brother, pale and nervous.

“You're not in trouble Max. I just wanted to come and pick you up and take you back to my place to stay with me and your brother” Hopper said watching the girl's expression going from fear to confusion.

“I will explain everything when we get there,” Hopper said and guided the young lady to his truck.

It was a quiet ride back to the cabin but that's how Hopper liked it. He knew as soon as they got there that the peace would be broken and he would have to deal with teenagers.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #fanfic #max mayfield #billy deserved better #ao3 fanfic #ao3 tags #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #hopper #hopper takes in billy

[tiredsadpeach]

Man I’m not going to be able to sleep hhh

#my dad won’t just go to bed in his room so I have no place to have a private phone call #and just fuck I’m too anxious to sleep #I don’t mind if he needs space or something I just have to fucking KNOW and it makes me sick that I don’t know if I’m the problem or not #like I just wanna know if it was something I did please please but this house is too small and I can’t call until I have privacy because hhh #I can’t have my family overhear I just can’t it’s hard enough to talk on the phone as is and I have to go to my grandmothers tomorrow so if #I am the problem if I did make him mad and upset we can’t talk it out until tomorrow night which just I can’t wait that long I want to enjoy #tomorrow we don’t go over every week like we used to I want to have fun but I can’t if that’s hanging over my head fuck #I’m gonna shower tonight in hopes I can call once my dad goes to his room #he’s asleep in a recliner like just go to bed sir #I need to call my friend so I can sleep

[alienguts]

Don’t Wait Up (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Y/N has fallen asleep waiting up for Bruce to come home after he told her to go to bed.

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, minor injuries, fluff

Request?: No

A/N: I wrote this at 3 AM and I have no regrets of that because that is when I am at my softest.

It was almost dawn when the Batmobile finally roared into the cave. Bruce powered down the engine and reclined in the driver’s seat with a deep exhale, his muscles relaxing after an entire night of being tense. He reached up to take off his cowl with a slight groan, a cut on his ribs stretching uncomfortably with the movement.

When he exited the car, he was met by Alfred - which he expected every single night - but also by a sleeping figure huddled up on the dark leather chair in front of the cave’s computer, covered with a blanket. Bruce huffed to himself and smiled slightly as he made his way over to Alfred, who took the cowl from him.

“She just couldn’t help herself, could she?” he said to Alfred as he took off his gloves.

“I told her plenty of times that she should go to bed, but she just wouldn’t listen to me,” Alfred replied. He helped Bruce remove the top of his suit and caught notice of the angry cut that was still oozing blood. “Rough night, Master Bruce?”

“Riddler packs a lot more of a punch than he lets on,” Bruce said with a chuckle. “I expected him to use that staff so often that I wasn’t prepared for him to spring knives on me.”

“Perhaps you should take a break and study up on your most wanted list.”

“Perhaps not. Although the studying sounds like a good idea.”

While Alfred helped Bruce to patch up his injury, he noticed his watching over Y/N’s sleeping form.

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you, sir?” he asked as he rolled the gauze bandage around his ribs Bruce hummed in assent.

“Has she been here long? I told her to not wait up for me before I left.”

“She’s been here the entire time. She kept an eye on the monitors for an hour or two and then fell asleep in the chair. I don’t think even an explosion could wake her up at this point.” Alfred fastened the bandage with a safety pin before making sure that the wound wasn’t going to bleed through.

“You look just as tired, Alfred,” Bruce said to his oldest friend. “Maybe you should head off to bed too.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Good night, Master Bruce.”

“Good night, Alfred.”

After Alfred had left the cave and Bruce had gently washed the sweat off of his skin, he made his way over to Y/N, who was still sleeping soundly in the computer chair. He gently ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek, taking in her peaceful expression.

“Let’s get you to bed, sleeping beauty,” he said softly as he moved to scoop her up into his muscular arms. The sensation of his warm skin on hers instantly made her stir awake.

“Bruce?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep. She could barely open her bleary eyes but she knew that he was there. She couldn’t have mistaken him for anyone else.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said gently. “I told you to not wait up for me.”

“I know, but I don’t like sleeping in the bed without you. It’s too lonely.”

“Well, I’m here now. You can cling on to me as much as you want.” She smiled and nestled closer into his bare chest.

They were both quiet as Bruce carried Y/N through the manor to their bedroom. The house was dead silent and the sun was already beginning to rise outside.

When he finally set her down on the soft mattress, she noticed the bandage on his side and furrowed her brows.

“You’re hurt,” she said simply.

“It’s nothing,” he replied as he tried to place the bedsheets over her.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” she said as she reached out to gently graze her fingers over the bandage. “I don’t like seeing you in bandages.” Bruce sat down on the bed next to her and tenderly kissed her forehead.

“I’m still breathing, still walking, and I’m still here with you now. You have nothing to worry about.” He gathered her up in his arms once more, she made sure to not hold him too tightly.

“I know, but I always worry that you could come home in a much worse state.”

“Alfred patched me up pretty well, so I’m going to be okay for now. I’ll feel even better if we both get some sleep.” He felt her nod against his chest before he moved to lie them both down under the covers.

“Good night, Bruce,” she said quietly, her sleepy voice almost a whisper.

“Good night, honey,” he responded, leaving a final goodnight kiss on the top of her head.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fluff #batman x reader #batman x you #batman imagine #batfleck x reader #batfleck x you #batfleck imagine #batman fluff #batfleck fluff #dc x reader #dc x you #dc imagine #dc fluff #dceu x reader #dceu x you #dceu imagine #dceu fluff #female reader #*one shots #*my writing

[westmoor]

Jaskier is reading when Geralt makes it back to the inn.

There’s a fire in the hearth to drive the damp from the walls after a long and quiet winter, and the bard is taking up the length of the bed, reclining against the single lumpy pillow.

His doublet hangs on the rickety chair by the rickety-er table under the window that hopefully won’t slam open in the night, but his trousers are still laced, boots still on, he means to get back up soon anyway.

He retired over an hour ago, deciding his time was better spent nosing through the last novel he’d brought with him from Oxenfurt. Travellers are sparse still, the northern roads opened from a harsh season, and there’s not much to play for.

And maybe his calves hurt, just a little. It really has been a long winter.

There’s a whistle in the streets below and footsteps in the hallway.

The door swings open.

Geralt doesn’t fall or stumble through it, which is usually a good sign. Doesn’t drag himself over the threshold either, looking half finished and ready to bleed out on the floorboards. That is also good.

Instead he seems downright fine, wearing his armour half undone and carrying the sword in one hand, pack of supplies in the other. He must’ve made time to clean up before returning.

Jaskier gives him an appraising, if surprised, look. «Well, that was quick? I hope you don’t take payment by the hour.»

Geralt hums in assent, shutting and bolting the door. «It was just a few drowners, nothing worse.»

«So, not a kelpie?»

«No kelpies.» The clasps come off one by one, he shrugs them loose and drags a hand through loose hair still damp from the wash.

It’s a good look.

«What about the- » Jaskier makes a gesture to visualize the sound of clopping hooves. «The fancy demon horse?»

Geralt steps out of his boots, pulls the shirt over his head. That’s a good look, too. «It was just a horse.»

Thumb stuck between the pages of his book, it’s Jaskier’s time to hum. «Just a horse?»

«A very nice horse.» Geralt crosses the room to the bed, eyeing the boots resting on their sheets but its occupant makes no effort to move. He raises an eyebrow.

«Oh, excuse me» - One boot hits the floor with a thump - «good sir, but» - and another - «what on earth» - before Geralt makes quick work of the laces at his waist, and he’s divested of his trousers, too. «Do you think you’re doing?»

«I’m going to bed.»

True to word, Jaskier finds himself up to the neck in very sturdy, rather heavy Witcher, one who takes to his half-hearted protests by nuzzling into the junction of his neck.

There are nights - plenty of them - where this would be the start of something. But tension seeps from Geralt’s shoulders like honey when Jaskier swipes the hair from his face and well, it had been a very long road, after a very long winter.

A quiet moment passes in thought, and then another.

«Could I wring out a verse or two about it anyway, do you reckon?»

He more feels  more than hears the rumble Geralt makes at that, and arms find their way between the small of his back and the mattress, enveloping him as though he wasn’t enveloped before. When he speaks, he sounds half asleep already.

«About the horse?»

«No, about the…» Jaskier drops the book then, finally, it tumbles to the floor in defeat. «Actually, Geralt, sure. I’ll write you an entire song about good horses.»

--

(tag list now of two: @llamasdumpsterfire​ @stinastar​ )

#geralt: (happy witcher noises) #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher ficlet #fluff #thats all there is #empty fluff #3am 2% pls forgive mistakes goodnight

[littlepupthoughs]

Warming Up to You Chapter 2

Aprox: 1,700 Words

CW: SMUT. thor x loki x reader. size difference. soft!thor. dom!loki. puppy!sub!reader. Intoxication(dub-con). Petplay. The word cunt. minor restraint. fem!fingering. overstimulation. a little degradation/namecalling. praise. threeway. orgasm denial. Oral: (fem and male receiving). a little aftercare. being overwhelmed.

AN: well here is chapter two! This is where we get nice and smutty. Let me know your thoughts on a more innocent take on Thor. And well your thoughts in general! If you like my work I am also currently taking requests!

______________________________

“Would you help me play with her?” Loki’s voice echoed in your head as you desperately waited for an answer. So many emotions swirling through your head, embarrassment, fear, hesitation, and excitement. The excitement was rushing through your body making your nerves tingle and mingling with the fear making your heart race. The only sounds in the room were the droning of the infomercial and the loud thumping of your heart, then it all seemed to stop as you heard a content hum with a quiet “yes.”

Loki began moving first, sitting up and closing the recliner chair. Then he offered his hand out to you, you reaching out to take it. The three of you file in to Loki’s bedchamber as he gently rubbed his thumb over your hand to calm you, nervousness bubbling your brain. Loki waved his and removing both of your clothing as you laid on the bed, he kept your attention on him by gently tracing his fingers up and down your body.

He leaned in hovering his lips next to your ear, “this is going to be so much fun my little one. Remember you need to play nice with him, I don’t think he has ever played with a submissive before. Will you be on your best behavior for me?” You nodded enthusiastically, the nervousness lessening as your brain began softening. Thor had finished undressing and laid down facing you, you looked over to him. He lifted his hand to touch your chest but hesitated, you gave him a reassuring smile then your eyes fluttered as his large warm hand pressed against your skin.

“She’s.. so small,” He half mumbled to himself half to Loki. He propped himself up on one arm to better explore your soft skin, his large hand engulfing you in a heat that spread under his touch. He treated you so delicately as though he was scared to break you, a gentle giant showing through his usual boisterous self.

“Mmm, yes she is. My lovely little toy,” You were too distracted by Thor’s hand to notice Loki’s trailing his way down your stomach. You flinched slightly as his hand cupped your mound feeling the warmth radiating from you. The moment you flinched Thor pulled his hand back worried that in his intoxicated state he had hurt you and your fragile midguardian body. His worries dissipated as he heard the breathy moan that escaped from your lips.

Loki took Thor’s hand in his and pressed it down to replace his over your cunt with a smile. He got to his knees and moved to straddle your shoulders, his cock looming over your face getting harder by the moment. Your arms were trapped between his legs as he began lazily stroking himself just inches from your face. He looked down at you his blue eyes boring in to yours, his lips twisted in to a wicked smile. Thats when you felt it, a finger slipping between your folds playing in the wetness that had pooled there. He was spreading it around using the slick to glide over your clit making sparks shoot through the little bundle of nerves. He kept moving, never staying in the same place long enough to do anything more than tease you and drive you mad. Coaxing more and more of your juices to trickle out of you and on to his rough fingers.

You couldn’t help but whimper pathetically as you struggled against Loki’s legs, his cock starting to glisten with precum. Your hips rolled desperately trying to rub against Thor’s fingers. Suddenly they were gone. Your eyes welled up in frustration and you whined loudly, feeling the bed shift next to you as Thor moved out of view. Your heart was pounding in your ears when you felt your knees be lifted, separating your legs. Warm breath suddenly hit your aching mound and you didn’t have time to register what was happening before a wet tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy.

“Look at my needy little slut, you love this don’t you?” Loki purred. You could hear the lust in his voice, and the lust in yours as you responded.

“Y…Yes sir”

“Is he playing nicely with my little bitch?” he asked, tilting his head mockingly. You could only nod your head gasping as Thor’s tongue begins circling your clit, as if to further prove himself to you.

“Use your words pup, he can’t understand you.”

“YES! Yes sir!” you cry. Thor hummed against you in response, greedily lapping at you. His hands clutching your thighs tighter as he began sucking on your clit, flicking his tongue over the engorged bud ruthlessly. Your eyes grew wide as pressure built up in your core making you writhe. You desperately tried to speak but your pleading only came out as a whisper to Loki but he understood.

“Not yet.” your heart plummeted in to your stomach as you held your breath. Loki moved off your chest his dick twitching madly dripping precum on you as he kneeled at your side. Thor looked up at you buried between your legs, his beard against your raw skin. With your arms freed you reached down grabbing a fist full of his hair pulling him closer, grinding down on his mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut in concentration using every ounce of will power to not cum, the pressure in your core building further.

“Open your eyes pet, I want him to see your face when he makes you orgasm,” his tone left no space to question his orders, especially with the promise of release. Your eyes met Thor’s below you, his eyes were dark with lust and made you feel like prey trapped with a predator.

“You may come now y/n.” You screamed as your muscles spasmed, lightening shooting through you. The pressure that had built up exploded as you writhed helplessly overwhelmed by the pleasure. Thor’s eyes never left yours drinking in every single moment. The intensity began to ebb away and you gasped for air. Your hands shot up grabbing at the sheets trying to wriggle away from Thor’s mouth still licking at your overstimulated cunt, lapping up every drop leaking out of you. His began to let up when Loki cut him off, “No Thor, keep going. I think my sweet little pup needs more.”

Your eyes were still locked on Thor’s as his speed picked back up. This time he began focusing more on your entrance, using his tongue to explore while his hand reached up to part your lips and rub his finger over your swollen clit. You couldn’t help but close your eyes seeing fireworks behind your eyelids. Your hands quickly reached down with the intention of pushing him away but not quickly enough. Loki climbed back over you locking your arms back at your sides. You opened your mouth to protest only to be filled with his precum covered cock. He pressed it deep in to your soft warm throat muffling your gargled moans. You felt it spasm as he began pulling it back out only to ram it back in deeper than before.

Your mind was fading in and out, overwhelmed by the assault on your body. You started to feel floaty and fuzzy as the pressure began building up again the sensation making you writhe under the weight of Loki’s body. His cock was cutting off your oxygen and making the situation feel unreal. Nothing was real except the tingling heat spreading through your veins, Loki buried in your throat, and the wet tongue lapping at your swollen lips.

Then a new sensation burst in to your mind. A finger began slipping inside of you, painfully slowly it started exploring. Thor’s tongue continued it’s relentless dance on your clit while moving steadily deeper in to your heat.

“Loki! Please please please, I need to come..I can’t!” your words came out an unintelligible garbled mess.

“What was that little one? Do you need to come?” He was still sliding himself in and out of your throat making speaking next to impossible. “Again? Already?” You were almost crying at this point. Jumbled sounds spilled from your lips.

“Come for me.” he snarled.

And you did. While your insides spasmed around Thor’s finger he slipped in another making you feel even fuller, making your orgasm even more intense. Your moans and gasps vibrated around Loki’s cock pushing him over the edge. His hands reached down grabbing a fists full of your hair pulling you closer. Ropes of cum came shooting out of him coating the inside of your throat, you gurgled and sputtered as he kept coming. So much teasing and holding back for so long made his release powerful. He threw his head back, the growl that escaped his lips turning in to a moan. You struggled to swallow all of his seed as he slowly pulled out letting you gasp for air.

Your gasp turned in to another earth shaking scream. Thor had found your g-spot and was curling his fingers against it ripping another mind breaking orgasm from your exhausted body. The overstimulation burned through you, electrifying every cell of your body. You reached an impossibly high peak, tears streaming down your cheeks as Thor gently brought you back down.

You were broken, your body spent and your mind shattered. A whimpering mess drooling from your mouth and leaking on to the bed. Both of the gods laid down next to you panting. Loki petting your head and gently placing kisses on your cheek, murmuring praise. He wiped some of the drool off of your face and you let out a moan of thanks as your heavy eyelids started fluttering closed.

“Aww little one don’t fall asleep just yet, we aren’t quite finished.” You barely registered his words.

“You don’t want to be rude to our guest, he took such good care of you. It is only right to return the favor.” This time you understood what he was saying, Thor’s pulsing cock twitching against thigh confirming his words. You nodded starting to smile.

“That’s right little puppy, I know you are aching for more. Such an obedient little play thing.”

#dom!loki #loki smut #thor x reader x loki #tomhiddelstonsmut #loki x you #y/n smut #bd/sm puppy #puppyplay #mcu smut #thor smut #mcu fic #warming up to you

[wishuhadstayed]

It Takes a Village

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: about 3000

Summary: when the Hotchner fam is in need, it’s a good thing to have many helping hands. Part 9 to Begin Again.

Warnings: mentions of blood and pregnancy complications

Author’s Note: I really am sorry for that cliffhanger y’all. 😬 I’m just glad you still love me after being gone for like, a literal year. Shoutout to @agent-laufeyson you’re the best 💜 (PS, please ignore Haley in the below gif, also please picture Hotch in the hospital in casual clothes.) 😌

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

For a moment, Aaron’s whole world stopped turning. A cold, familiar sense of dread settled into his chest at the words, “You all may want to sit down for this.”

“Not again,” he thought. “I can’t do this again, we can’t do this again.”

“God please,” he begged internally, slumping into a chair, “if you’re listening, please don’t take her. We need her.”

Suddenly, the voice of a surgeon cut through the silent room like a knife.

“Sir, your wife lost a significant amount of blood. We had no choice but to perform an emergency c-section. Although your daughter is slightly pre-term, she seems to be in good health. However, we would like to keep her a while for monitoring.”

“And my wife?” He inquires, voice trembling with fear.

“It was touch and go there for a while, but we were able to locate the source of bleeding and get it under control. Your wife is out of surgery. She’s stable, but she is very weak and currently asleep. She will also be hospitalized for recovery. At least a week most likely, maybe longer.”

“Mama’s gonna be okay?” Jack pipes up.

“Yes, she is buddy,” Aaron replies, ruffling his hair. “Thanks to that doctor.”

“Thanks for making my mama feel better.”

“You’re most welcome,” the surgeon replied. “You and your dad can go visit her now. The rest of you will have to wait. She needs her rest. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you doctor,” Aaron says, shaking his hand with a sigh of relief.

“You go Aaron,” Rossi encourages, clapping him on the shoulders before he even had a chance to turn around. “Go see your wife and baby. We’ll wait.”

——————————————————————————

Entering your hospital room, Aaron thought your sleeping face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Sitting on the side of your hospital bed, he grabbed hand as you stirred awake.

“Hello Angel,” he murmurs as you take everything in. “You gave us quite a scare,” he mentions, softly caressing your face.

“The baby,” you whisper, touching his hand.

“Ssssshhhh,” he soothes. “The baby is fine. She’s in the nursery. You just rest okay?”

Instant relief washes over your face. “Jack?”

“I’m right here mama!” he exclaims, scrambling into Aaron’s lap.

“I want to see the baby,” you tell Aaron.

“I know darling, but you really need your rest.”

“I NEED to see her, Aaron.” You plead.

Taking the hint, he begins to rise. “Jack why don’t you stay with mama, while I go talk to the nurse, okay?”

“Okay Daddy,” he agrees, climbing in the bed next to you.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better mama,” Jack says, looking up at you with the sweetest face.

“Me too, baby,” you reply. “Are you ready to meet your sister?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims with a look of excitement. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course you can buddy, as long as you’re careful,” Aaron replies as he re-enters the room. “The nurses are bringing her down.”

A few minutes later a nurse arrives holding a tiny pink blanket. “Who wants to hold her first?” She inquires.

“You should hold her first, Aaron,” you suggest.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he insists. “You’ve been the strongest, bravest mom I know already. You should hold her first.”

As the nurse places the tiny, squirming bundle with her father’s dark hair in your arms, all the stress and chaos of the day seems to just melt away.

As you free a tiny hand from the swaddle so she can grasp your finger, her eyes flutter open.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you wonder aloud.

“Absolutely lovely,” Aaron muses, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Just like her mother.”

——————————————————————————

Meanwhile, cooped up in the waiting area, the BAU team began to grow restless.

“Maybe we should get out of the hospital and go shopping while we wait,” Garcia suggests. “I think Y/N deserves all the gifts and pretty things today.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” JJ questions.

“TARGET RUN!” all three women exclaim in unison.

They all wandered the aisles like kids in a candy store.

“I’m getting her balloons,” Penelope says. “Like so many pink balloons. Nobody can feel bad with that many balloons.”

“Flowers,” Rossi chimes in. “We should get her plenty of flowers to make the room cheerful.”

“We’ll have to get those from hospital gift shop,” JJ comments.

“I’d want chocolate,” Emily suggests. “Chocolate helps everything.”

“Look,” Morgan says, showing a pink stuffed bunny to Garcia. “It’s cute right? For the baby?”

“It’s perfect, Derek,” she assures, grabbing his hand. “Very cute.”

“Oh, a memory book,” Reid mentions. “So they can write down details every day.”

“Leave it to the genius to pick out a book,” Morgan jokes with a playful shove.

“Settle down, boys.” JJ cuts in. “As much as I’m sure she’ll appreciate the pretty gifts, she did just have a baby,” she reminds the group. “She needs some practical things too, trust me.” As she picks out a blanket and a pacifier, Henry begins to grow restless. As she picked up a snack for him, another idea crossed her mind.

“We should get something for Jack, too,” she thought aloud. “LEGOs. He loves LEGOs. And some gummy bears.”

A sudden ringing startles everyone.

“Ssssshhhhhhh,” Garcia commands as she puts the phone on speaker. “It’s Y/N! Quiet!”

“Hello my angel dear,” she lilts, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m very tired, but otherwise happy and healthy,” you report. “Is everyone with you?”

“We’re all here,” JJ chimes in.

“Hi everyone!” You reply. “In that case, I have news. The nurses have said that we’re allowed to have visitors first thing in the morning, if you’d like to see our newest addition.”

“Oh, wild horses could not keep us away, ma’am.” Penelope assures. “We’ll see you all bright and early.”

“Not too early, Penny,” you remind her. “You gotta give me a chance to wake up first.”

“Right, sooooo 10am then?”

“It’s a date.”

——————————————————————————

That evening, you soaked up as much family time as possible before the wave of visitors began. Aaron was a natural, as you’d known he would be from seeing him with Jack.

Watching him with the baby was quickly becoming your favorite pastime. The look of sheer enchantment on his face as he held her close and rocked her made you fall a little more in love with him every moment.

“Daddy loves you so much,” he coos to the tiny bundle in his arms.

“What?” he questions as he catches you watching.

“Oh nothing,” you reply, ruffling Jack’s hair as he slept by your side. “Just wondering how I got so lucky.”

“I think it’s me who got lucky. I thought I’d never love again. I was so closed off. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life as a single dad, doing everything on my own. Now,” he chokes out, “now I’d fall apart without you.”

“Good thing you’ve got two of us now to keep you boys in line then,” you return with a wicked grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger already.”

——————————————————————————

When you awoke the next morning, you were greeted by the most beautiful sight. Aaron still asleep in the recliner next your bed, his arm cradling the sleeping baby on his chest. While you hated to disturb the peaceful scene, you knew the team would be arriving as soon as the clock struck 10.

“Aaron,” you whisper. “Aaron, wake up,” slightly louder this time. He stirs awake, moving slowly so as not to wake the sleeping child.

“What is it babe?”

“The team will be here soon,” you inform him.

“Ah. I should go get ready,” he replies.

“Mama, can I hold her while dad gets ready?” Jack asks, startling the both of you.

“Oh buddy, I didn’t realize you were awake,” you say to him. “Of course you can hold her if you want.”

Jack scrambled into your lap as Aaron rounded the bed.

“Just be really careful with her bud,” Aaron reminds him as he settles the baby on his lap.

“I will dad,” he replies.

As Aaron walked away, the baby’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a small cry.

“Here, why don’t you give her a pacifier?” you suggest.

“Sssshhhh, don’t cry,” he says, giving her the pacifier, and then softly stroking her head.

“What do you think about your baby sister, Jack?”

“She’s pretty, Mama, just like you.”

“Thank you baby,” you reply. “That’s very sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too, mama.”

“And I love you all,” Aaron adds.

——————————————————————————

A short while later, a knock at the door alerts you that your visitors have arrived.

“You ready for this?” Aaron asks as he walks to the door.

“I’ve never been more ready. I just know they’re gonna be so in love with her.”

Aaron opens the door and the team flows in with their myriad of gifts.

Penelope hands off her bouquet of balloons to Derek and rushes over to hug you.

“Oh Y/N,” she gushes, cupping your face. “You look beautiful. It’s so good to see you, we were all worried sick.”

“Thank you Penny,” you reply, eyeing the room. “I’m assuming the shopping spree was your idea.”

“Oh shush woman,” she scolds. “You deserve it. We wanted your room to cozy and pretty because we heard you’re going to be here for a while. Sue us.”

“Thank you all for the gifts, you really didn’t have to do any of that,” you reply, tearing up as you address the whole room. “Just being there for us when we needed you the most was all we could ask for and you’ve gone above and beyond.”

“This is the least we could do, really,” JJ assures, softly rubbing your hand.

“Oh fine, be modest if you insist,” you reply with an eye roll. “I’d open all the gifts now, but I imagine you’re all much more interested in our slightly earlier than anticipated arrival.”

Seemingly for the first time since they came in, everyone notices Aaron’s presence and the little pink bundle in his arms.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you continue, “the announcement you’ve all been waiting for. Introducing Miss Savannah Rose.”

“What a lovely name,” Emily chimes in.

“Thank you,” Aaron cuts in. “We would have told you all sooner but we actually just decided on it while we were here,” he says beaming down at his perfectly content infant daughter. “You can all hold her if you like.”

“I’m sure we’d all love to,” JJ replies, “but i think we should leave that you for now. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to spoil her rotten just as soon as she gets home.”

“Right! We just wanted to check on everyone and make sure you have everything you need,” Garcia adds.

“Well thanks to you guys, I think our hospital room is pretty well stocked. I just wish I could say the same for the nursery,” you say with a shrug.

“What’s wrong with the nursery?” Rossi inquires.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Aaron admits. “Between me traveling so much for work and Y/N being pregnant and taking care of Jack, it got pushed to the wayside. I thought we had a bit more time.”

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you it’s not your fault?” you soothe, reaching for his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“I know, I just wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

“It already is dear,” you assure him with a smile. “Why don’t you go get some coffee, you look exhausted.”

“Good idea babe,” he says, settling the baby into your arms.

“I could use a cup myself,” Morgan adds.

——————————————————————————

“Derek, I need your help,” Aaron pleads, once out of earshot of the room.

“Of course man, anything you need.”

“We’re going to be in the hospital for about a week while Y/N recovers and I’m desperate to have a nice nursery for her when we get home, but I obviously can’t leave her alone. I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there anything you could do to help?”

“Sure thing man, don’t worry about it. That’s the best gift I could hope to give you.”

“You’re the best,” Aaron replies, slapping him on the shoulder. “Just don’t let Y/N find out, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

“My lips are sealed,” Derek promises.

——————————————————————————

That afternoon Derek had the whole team assembled in the nursery to get started.

“Alright everyone,” he begins, “We’ve got one week to make this the best surprise gift possible. Let’s make it happen.”

“What color should we paint it?” Penelope inquires.

“Got that covered already,” Derek replies while opening a paint can. “Purple. Hotch said it’s Y/N’s favorite color.”

“Oh Derek, it’s perfect!” she squealed, squeezing him tight. “She’s gonna adore it.”

“While the two of us are painting,” Penny addresses the group, “why don’t the rest of you do some some shopping?”

“Great idea, baby girl.” Morgan chimes in. “I think they’ve got the basics from the baby shower and I saw a crib and changing table in the garage, but I’m sure you guys can find things they’re missing.”

“Oh I think we’ve got this,” JJ states confidently. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she commands, herding Emily, Rossi, and Reid out the door.

When the group arrived back at the Hotchner house several hours later, the nursery walls were covered in a soft shade of lavender; as were Morgan and Garcia.

“I don’t know how you two managed to get any paint on the walls,” JJ said with a grin.

“Smile for the camera, you two,” Emily cuts in, snapping a picture on her phone as the couple hug and smile in their paint splattered clothes.

——————————————————————————

The next day conversation flowed as team was busily assembling furniture. Rossi, Reid, and Morgan worked on the crib while Penny, Emily, and JJ tackled the changing table.

“Let me know if you ladies need any help,” Morgan mentions casually.

“Oh right,” Emily grumbles, “because OBVIOUSLY the women need a big, strong man’s help, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” Derek counters. “I was just offering.”

“Oh not only will we get ours done without your help, we’ll get it done faster,” Emily challenges.

“Oh yeah?”

“YEAH!” all three women reply in unison.

“You’re on,” Morgan accepts.

“Oh you’re so going down,” Penny taunts, throwing pieces of plastic wrapping at Derek.

“Losers buy sushi for lunch?” Rossi suggests.

“Oh that could be pretty expensive for you Dave,” JJ comments. “You sure you’re up for that?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Rossi says, rolling his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Two hours later, as JJ and Emily were finishing up the crib, the men came dragging in, arms full of takeout bags.

“Say cheese!” Penelope squeals as she takes their picture. “For the bragging rights.”

——————————————————————————

The next days were spent putting the finishing touches on the room.

A purple gradient butterfly mobile above the crib from JJ.

A bookshelf with a fully stocked library, specially selected by Reid. Emily places her floral covered photo album on top.

Lavender curtains with a shimmery overlay, Penelope’s contribution.

Derek’s stuffed bunny, carefully laid in a white gliding chair with purple cushions, which was generously paid for by Dave.

Derek lays a soft shag rug over the hardwood floor and drapes a plush floral blanket over the edge of the crib.

“I think that about does it, guys,” he says with a look of pride.

“You know, I bought them that photo album,” Emily comments, “it would be a shame if we didn’t put a few in there as a gift.”

“Yeah, but how do we get a picture of the whole group?” JJ wonders out loud.

“We could set a timer,” Penelope suggests.

“Yeah, but who sets the timer?” Reid asks, as he turns to see the whole group looking at him.

“Seriously guys?”

Between the camera falling over, closed eyes, and Spence not making it back before the timer, it took a few tries before there was a good group shot.

“And now a funny one,” Penny insists.

Once the photos, including the bloopers, have been printed and arranged in the album, JJ makes sure to write descriptions for each in the margins before setting it back on the shelf.

“Good job team,” Derek announces. “Our work here is done.”

——————————————————————————

After all the chaos surrounding the birth and a full week in the hospital, nothing felt better than standing at the door of your house with the love of your life and your two beautiful children.

“You ready to finally get some rest, baby?” Aaron asks as he ushers you inside the house, one solid arm arm around the small of your back and Savannah in her carrier on the other.

“Yeah,” you sigh, dropping your purse on the coffee table and slipping off your shoes. “I just wish we didn’t still have to worry about the nursery,” you groan, plopping down onto the sofa.

“About that,” Aaron says with a mischievous grin, offering you his free hand.

“What are you up to, Aaron Hotchner?” You muse as he leads you down the hallway.

“Just trust me,” he assures, coming to a halt in front of the nursery door. “Close your eyes,” he requests.

“What is going on here?” you inquire again.

“Just close your eyes please, darling,” he asks. “For me.”

“Alright, alright,” you comply, “this better be good.”

“Don’t open them until I say so, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

With eyes closed and Jack close by your side, you hear the door open and the rustling of paper inside the room.

“Alright,” he whispers, sliding his arm around your shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist: @ange-must-die @agent-laufeyson @poetsacademia @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @less-intelligent-spencerreid @tgibstan @themanip @word-scribbless @quillvine @glizzieborden @miss-united-ace @samayoshito @hotchnerundercover @pedropascalian @thenewnormalforensicator @crowdedimagines @sagittarianwolf @kleff03

#aaron hotchner imagine #1 800 aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #thomas gibson imagine #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner #hotch

[ask-darling-xoxo]

🦷YB takes you to your Wisdom Teeth Surgery🦷

—So, I decided to write this for comfort Bc honestly I can see YB taking great care of me in my time of need and also enjoying the fact that I’m relying on him to take care of me—

Not to mention I almost cried when I was being taken to my appointment. I was really stressed out and anxious as it was my very first type of surgery. However, I was very happy and talkative until the pain kicked in but thanks to my medication, I was able to relax and sleep it off.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! It’s supposed to be sweet on purpose!

———————————————————————

“YB please! I don’t wanna go!” You cried out,as YB tried to get you out of the car, his voice low and soft as he spoke while his hand gently rubbed your arm.”But darling this is for your own oral health..if you don’t get your wisdom teeth out now, they could be a problem later on in the future...you don’t want that happening right?” You shrugged and held your ground, refusing to get out of the car. You couldn’t help but be afraid and anxious of having to be put to sleep while people pull your precious but useless wisdom teeth out. Not only that but the thought of having to deal with the pain after the surgery lingered in your mind...along with not being able to eat solid or acidic foods. Food was so good! How could they take away your precious solid foods!

“Tell you what, after your surgery, I’ll take you out for some ice cream. How’s that sound?” This caught your attention quick as you turned to look at YB. “Really? You’ll do that for me? Take me out for ice cream?” He nodded and ruffled your hair. “Of course darling. I’ll do anything for you if it means you’ll do this surgery.” You pondered about it before sighing. “Okay...I’ll do it...but I want you there with me until I fall asleep please...” You allowed YB to grab your hand as he pulled you up and out of the car. “As you wish love. I’ll talk to them and see if I can get that arranged”

As you walked into the office, YB had you sit down while he went to go talk to the receptionist to let them know you were here for your appointment. The office was nice and cool and very quiet much to you dissatisfaction. The quiet environment only added to your anxiety, your leg bouncing frantically in an attempt to get your mind off of your thoughts. “Good news sweetheart, I’ll be able to sit in the room with you throughout your surgery.” YB said as he sat next to you and rubbed his thumb over your hand. You couldn’t help but throw yourself onto his lap, your hands grabbing at his sweater vest. He didn’t seem to mind though and rubbed your back soothingly. “It’s okay darling. You’re not gonna feel a thing while you’re under anesthesia okay? Everything is gonna be fine” You tried your best to believe him, but you just couldn’t help but overthink it. There were a million things that could go wrong and you were thinking of every single one of them.

YB must’ve known you were overthinking, his hands carefully grabbing your face and making you look at him. “Look at me sweetheart, as long as you’re with me, I will always make sure you’re safe and healthy. I’ll be there the ENTIRE time. I won’t leave your side” You gave a small smile until the doctor called your name. “Y/n? Come with me please.” You clutched YB’s sweater tightly in your hands, refusing to get up yet again. YB simply picked you up and followed the doctor into the room where he then placed you onto the cold, reclined chair. He stepped away to go sit down but your hands remained tightened on his sweater vest. He hated seeing you so afraid and anxious but he was definitely loving your needy and dependent attitude. “Y/n dear, you’re gonna have to let go. The doctors need to be able to do surgery without you holding onto me” You whimpered and let go. “I’m scared YB. I’m not ready” The doctor overheard you as they stepped into the room. “Sir, we need them to be as relaxed as they can possibly be. Can they settle for hand holding?” You gave a fast nod of your head and immediately reached your hand out to YB. “Please. Please hold my hand YB” YB didn’t hesitate as he grabbed the little rolling chair and sat next to you, his hand intertwining with yours. He reassured you with sweet words that you’d be okay throughout the doctors preparing to do the surgery. It wasn’t until they placed the IV in your arm with the anesthesia that you were struggling to stay awake.

You were trying so hard to fight against it and stay awake. “I don’t...I don’t wanna sleep...I wanna...be awake with you” YB shushed you and kissed your forehead. “Don’t fight it darling, just let it do it’s job. The surgery will be done before you know it” YB rubbed your hand with his thumb soothingly as you gave in, your eyes closing. The last thing you heard was YB, “sleep well darling, I’ll see you when you wake up”

When you finally woke up, everything felt numb and everything was blurry as you looked around. YB noticed you were fully awake as he scooted closer to your side. “Heyyyy sweetheart! How’re you feeling?” You took a moment to respond, your eyes trying to focus on his face. Your speech was slurred as you happily squealed and reached out to grab him. “YBBBBB!! You’reee hereeee awwww I love you so muchhh!” He leaned forward and allowed you to grab his face, your hands squishing his cheeks. “I love you so much too sweetheart. Do you wanna leave for some ice cream now?” Your eyes widened and you threw your hands up dramatically, “ICE CREAM!!!! I want it! Cant wait to stuff my face with ice creammmn” YB smiled at your happy attitude. “Alright sweetheart just gimme a second to get the doctor.” Once the doctor was there to help, YB and the doctor pulled you up to your feet and helped you to YB’s care where he buckled you in and made sure you were nice and comfy.

“Alright darling let’s go get you some ice cream and then have you change out your gauze.” You looked at him confused “Gauzeee???” He couldn’t help but snort at you, the way you were trying to speak with your cheeks full of gauze was funny and so dearly cute to him. He even took a video of you once you were at home inside his apartment trying to stuff your mouth with ice cream. “Slow down darling, you don’t wanna cause yourself any pain.” YB explained as he was reading the directions from the doctor. “Hmm...says here you might not wanna eat...” YB looked up to see your eyes glossy and teary as your sniffled and whined. You had tried to eat the ice cream but due to your dry sockets still being sensitive, they did not like the cold feel. “Awww sweetheart! I told you to slow down and be careful!”

After the unsuccessful attempt to have you eat ice cream, YB instead had you take your medicine and settle down in bed. “Alright darling, your medication is gonna make you sleepy so how about—“ you didn’t give him time to finish as you laid your head on his chest, your cheek pressed flush against YB’s nice and cool chest. He was so cold it felt good...”I...love you...please take care of me and love me” you slurred out. YB smiled, his hands massaging your backside to help you fall asleep.

“I’ll always take care of you and love you. I love you too much not to y/n...”

#fanfiction #your boyfriend visual novel #yb peter #your boyfriend fanart #your boyfriend game #your boyfriend oc #your boyfriend peter #your boyfriend visual game #y/n your boyfriend #yourboyfriendpeter

[crackheadenergy101]

Mystery woman

Summary : billy finds a young woman wandering the woods, he lets the young woman stay the night and despite her flirty teasing and young restless antics learns to get close to her, especially after hearing he’s her imprint

Billy settles on his porch, savoring on his favorite homemade coffee he lifts his head peering at the setting sun, “so peaceful”.

Billy returns to his coffee, churning it softly

He sighs “ to peaceful”, the man couldn't suppress his boredom, he truly cherished the peace at most times but some days he felt so isolated and today was one of those moments. Abruptly a rustle, the bushes shake as someone or something crawls through, billy instantly veers his head “ who's there!” he shouted. A rabbit steps out and billy calms down a bit, releasing the fist he clenched so tightly

Billy goes to recline his head but swiftly sits back up catching a glimpse of a woman deep in the forest. “Hey!” he yelled, the woman turns her naked body to face him, her eyes widening as she sees the person that called out to her “ Ma’am are you ok!” he shouted as he rolls closer. Unaware, billy looked into the woman's eyes, he felt the world halt as he looked into her glimmering eyes.

Billy gets closer and so does the woman instinctively, they both freeze, the woman shakes her head, her hair moving as she does so. Billy never felt this way, he felt so close to her in such a short time, could this be

Imprintation?

Billy shakes the thought, acknowledging that this wasn't the time “ Ma’am can you understand English?” the nude woman nods “ are you lost, homeless?” she shakes her head in a yes, Billy nods “come, please inside I have clean clothes and food”. “please take a bath I find you some clothes” he refrains from looking at the woman waiting till she finds the bathroom, he goes to his daughter room finding the stranger something to wear, he plops the clean clothes on the bedside and returns to the kitchen proceeding to cook her dinner. He doesn't even notice her walking out, “ thank you sir” billy jumps, knocking his hand into the heated pot, accidentally scorching his hand, the woman hastily walks over “ are you, ok sir?” billy nods and gives an awkward laugh.

“ it's fine! Really!” the woman finds a rag, wetting it and placing it onto the bruised hand “ sorry for scaring you,” she says while laughing

“ it’s fine Ms?” The woman grins “ y/n,” she says whilst opening the fridge and grabbing an ice pack, “ and you?” Billy watches as y/n drapes the ice pack in the blue rag, she positions it back on the hand “ billy”. Y/n grins “ well it’s wonderful to meet you billy, thank you for giving me such a lovely warm welcome”, she says getting closer to Billy’s face “ y-y, your very welcome,” he says while cracking up, “ so what we’re doing in woods?” Y/n gets up and turns off the stove “ I don’t know myself” she says softly. “ I went on a walk after being so furious and ended up here,” y/n says, zoning out while pouring the food, billy gives a concerned look “ naked?”

Y/n snaps out of her trance and laughs hearing what the older man said “huh? Oh no! God no” She snorts and places the food on the table “ that happened in the middle of the woods, somehow” billy nods, still not being convinced.

“ do you have any family? Friends? Money” y/n shakes her head “ you can stay here for tonight till we figure something out” y/n gives a big smile “ thanks!”. Y/n eats the food, looking at photos as she finishes “cute kids” billy smiles “oh thank you” “ where are they now?” billy sighs with a smile “ oh living, my youngest Jacob lives with me but is usually out doing his own thing rarely is hone anymore, my oldest girls are doing their own thing too, one is married to a surfer in Hawaii Rebecca, and the other lives with me but again far to busy to be home Rachel”. “mhm sounds lonely” billy gives a laugh “oh trust me, it is” they both give a giggle and y/n sits up.

“ you must have more family? a brother?” “ Nope, though I do have sisters” y/n gives a smile asking about them, “ well I have an older sister Nora, and three younger sisters Jennie, Connie, Emmie” “ do you guys see each other often?” y/n asked. “eh not as much as I wish but at family gatherings, we see each other” billy goes to the sink and begins cleaning their dishes “ how about you?” the woman shrugs, itching her h/c hair “ complicated, we're a family but like not blood related and we don't live together either we're kind of a-” “ -pack?” y/n thinks about this before answering “ yeah pack, I think”. She gets up leaning over billy, her chest being on top of his head “you can leave the dishes to me, it's the least I can do” “ uh o-ok” billy moves from beneath her and she gives a smile as he goes to his couch. They sit and chat for a while before billy sees the night sky and hears wolves howling, “ wow it's dark so quickly” “ you know the saying” “ Time flies by fast when you're having fun, “ they say in unison they smirk at each other when finishing the sentence. “ God, I'm tired,” billy says “ me too, uh where do I sleep?”

“ my room, I'll sleep on the couch-” y/n gasps “ no I'll take the couch you can keep the bed really” billy smiles “ it's fine your a guest-” y/n shakes her head “ an unexpected one, you really can't give me your room” billy shapes his head “ well I certainly can't leave you here on the couch by yourself, near the door”. Y/n gives a mischievous smile, billy squint's “ what are you thinking” y/n acts surprised and put a hand on her chest “ my son's friends always have that smile when there up to something”

“ well it's not too bad really, I was thinking we could share a bed” billy gives smile and nervously gives a smile “ oh um, ok?” billy mentally groaned feeling quite lame for acting so awkwardly, he felt rusty the last time he needed to deal with these things was before Rebecca and Rachel he had no idea how to respond. “ Great! I'll go fix the bed” y/b says quickly walking towards his room, billy sighs and gives himself a moment before following,

Despite his confused feelings, billy felt so happy and he didn't know why, being with y/n felt like it was meant to be and that he should always be by her side, he finally felt so less lonely.

“ well what side do you usually take” “ right” y/n nods and getting comfortable on the left side, “ well I'm gonna go shower now” y/n nods waving by as he goes inside with his clothes.

Billy sits in his shower cleaning his hair, he felt like a teenager all over again, which made him feel upset but at the same time, excited. He comes back finding y/n asleep, he smiles and gets into bed giving her space and relaxing, the slept for an hour till y/n cuddled up to him, it felt nice, he missed this kind of touch “ms l/n-” “imprint” billy stops talking and let's y/n muzzle her face into his neck.

“ what?”

“ shhh,” y/n says

Billy smiles before falling asleep, knowing his assumptions were correct, he fell asleep once more, with y/n draped over him.

Y/n wakes up to an empty bed, looking around for her imprint, steps outside the room to be greeted by a group of young men and women “ hello” y/n says smiling. The family stares dumbfounded looking back from billy to the woman

Billy laughs, he eventually has to tell them everything and vice versa with y/n but for now he’ll wait for y/n to tell her truth

Till then he'll just enjoy the funny stares

#billy black #billy black x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #imprint #the pack #shapeshifter

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Prompt # 19: Addiction  

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care. 

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible. 

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?" 

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag. 

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had  this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours. 

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her. 

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.” 

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” 

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly. 

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue. 

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face. 

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so. 

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

#sickfic #sicktember2021 #alt prompt 4 #everyone is hotter with a fever

[dreadpoetssociety]

That’s Not Some Girl, That’s My Sister

TW: Abuse, physical injuries

Request: 

I noticed you wrote Spencer X Sister!Reader. I was wondering if you could write a Penelope Garcia X Little!Sister!Reader. When their parents died Y/N was just born so she was put into foster care because Garcia couldn’t care for her. Garcia visits her every chance they get and they keep in touch 24/7. What Garcia doesn’t know is that Y/N is being abused at her foster home. When she turns 16 it gets so bad that she can barely move. One day she walks into the bau bloodied and bruised... (1/?) Morgan notices her, (The team doesn’t know she exists) and is like, “Hey kid you alright?” She drops to the floor and Garcia comes out to prep the team for a case and sees her on the floor. She drops her papers and runs over, holding her close. The team, who don’t know Y/N come out and ask what’s wrong and Morgan says that some kid walked in bleeding. Garcia gets defensive and says, “She’s not some kid, she’s my sister and her name is Y/N” They bring her to the hospital and... (2/3) and Garcia does her magic to get her foster parents arrested and she adopts her. And then the whole team welcomes her and it’s super fluffy ending? Sorry this was so long. Thank you so much❤️ If you don’t want to do this request you can delete it, sorry about that :) (3/3)

Note: Remember how I said there would be no fics tonight because I have school in the morning and didn’t do homework? Well, I lied. Please feel free to send me more requests! To those who already have, just know that I am working on ALL of them. Also, realizing now that I didn’t exactly stick to this prompt regarding the part where Y/N walks in and Garcia sees her, but hopefully it is still okay!!!

Penelope Garcia x Sister!Reader

()()()()()()

It wasn’t so much that Penelope Garcia had kept you a secret, but that you had never come up in conversation. Never once had anyone asked if the tech goddess had siblings. The team never found it their business to question after knowing the water of your parents. She also believed that the less they knew, the safer you were from the criminals that the analyst helped to catch.

Unbeknownst to her, however, this was far from the truth.

You never knew your parents like your sister did. You had just been born, and Penelope was deemed unable to care for you, you had no other family, so you wound up in foster care. You’d gone from house to house, family to family, but no matter where you were, you were always in contact with your elder sister. You were allowed to visit each other regularly, and those visits were the only thing you looked forward to. The only times you felt safe.

You were actually just leaving a visit for lunch with Penelope and walking towards her as you passed by a large building.

“Y/N, I didn’t even realized we walked by, but this is where I work!” the blonde said with a smile.

“Really? The FBI is just out here?” you asked.

“Pretty much.” she replied, and then her eyes grew wide and a gasp escaped her lips, “Oh my goodness, Y/N, you should visit sometime.”

“Finally!” you exclaimed, “I have ALWAYS wanted to visit, but didn’t want to invite myself.” your sister laughed.

“I haven’t really told them about you. I was never really sure how, but it seems like a good enough time now that you’re 16.” As you stepped closer and closer to the car, your mood began to drop, not knowing what pain would face you at home this time. You figured you could tell Penelope, but you’d been in many abusive foster homes, the most they would do is just move you to another one, if anything at all, and you could never ask your sister to take you in as her responsibility. From what she’s said, her job is very stressful, and you figured you would just add to that.

It wasn’t long before you were at your doorstep waving goodbye. Sighing, you turned and creaked open he door that led straight to your living hell. Joseph, your foster father, was on his stingy recliner, bottles of various different alcohols surrounded him. He himself, however, was asleep. You hated him. You could not wait for the day that you were set free from this place, the day you could finally fight him back. The man was a drunk, and a violent one at that. And even then, it’s nowhere near as bad than when he was sober. He knew how to hurt more when he was thinking straight. You tried to tiptoe around him to get to your room, but knocked something over, waking him up. Your heart genuinely stopped. You knew what would happen next.

The greasy man woke, and both of you locked eyes as he slowly sat up.

“Now, what the hell did I tell you about making noise?” he slurred loudly as he approached you, “Huh, brat?”

“I’m sorry, sir, it was an accident, it won’t happen again.” you said nervously. It was then that you both looked down at what had fell, and it was a glass decoration, which had now shattered into pieces. You knew you were in for it in that moment.

And Joseph didn’t hesitate. He hit you across the face, knocking you to the ground with your arm landing on some of the glass. You screamed out in pain, which resulted with more violence from the man standing over you.

“Clean it up!” he screamed, “Right now!” you tried to get up to get the broom, but he shoved you back down.

“With your hands.” he said. You looked up at him, tears in your eyes, when he put his foot on the top of your head, pushing your face down. Small shards cut up your cheek. You began to pick up pieces of the glass, one cutting you every now and then. Joseph kicked or punched every so often when he thought you were not doing a good enough job. By the end, you could barely move. You were bleeding everywhere, Joseph had knocked the wind out of you, hit and punched and kicked in any area he could have. At this point, you really thought you were going to die. And for a split second, you were almost relieved by the thought.

Eventually, Joseph passed out again on his recliner while you laid motionless on the floor nearby. It was then that you decided.  You didn’t care what happened to you next, but you were not coming back to this house.

()()()()()()

How you even made it to the building your sister pointed out to you earlier was beyond you.  It had taken you so long to move your body there that it was late at night now. You moved swiftly through the building, and reading the signs with the departments and their floors, you spotted the BAU. How nobody spotted you was also surprising. This was, after all, an FBI building, and you were a 16 year old girl who could barely stay conscious, bleeding from every pore and bruised at every inch.

The elevator brought you to a set of glass doors. There were desks everywhere, but most were empty. It seemed as though the room at the top of the small set of stairs was having a meeting, though, and you thought maybe Penelope was there. You hoped so badly that she was there. You got blood on the handle opening the door.

A man turned around from a coffee machine at the sound of your entering. He dropped his cup quickly and ran to you.

“Hey, kid? You alright?” he questioned, knowing that you obviously were not. You felt everything slipping away from you in that moment, and the world around you went dark.

‘

()()()()()()

“Guys? Get out here, now!” Morgan yelled as he fell with you to the floor, getting your blood on his shirt and his hands. Your whole team came rushing out of the room where Garcia had been briefing a case.

“What happened?” Hotch asked, practically jumping the stairs.

“I don’t know, this girl just came in and just passed out like this.” Morgan replied. Garcia had been behind Spencer, and when she stepped around him, her whole world was destroyed.

“Morgan!” she screamed, “That’s not some girl, that’s my sister, and her name is Y/N! Oh my god.” she ran to your unconscious body, dropping papers and a remote, and fell to her knees to hold you close. Spencer, even though he knew you had only just fell unconscious, walked over and put two fingers to your neck to check for a pulse, and was quite relieved when he found one.

“Call an ambulance,” Garcia sobbed, “please. Someone please.”

“An ambulance coming here would take too long given the traffic. It doesn’t seem to be fatal, let’s take her in one of the SUVs” Spencer suggested. Garcia nodded.

Morgan picked you up, JJ and Emily helped Garcia to the car, while Spencer drove since he would know the fastest route. Rossi stayed behind. You were asleep in the hospital for hours due to the fact that they kept you under in order to remove all the glass shards hidden throughout your skin. Your eyes and arms and torso were bruised heavily, but thankfully nothing was broken.

You were met with a group of people you’d never seen before when you woke up. Searching around the room you realized you were in a hospital bed, and soon enough remembered what brought you there.

“Huh?” was all you said. Penelope shot up instantly, smiling at you with tears in her eyes.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re awake. What happened to you?” she cried. You blinked for a few seconds.

“Garcia, she just woke up, she might not be able to talk about it, yet.” JJ reminded. It was quiet for a moment, until you spoke again.

“Joseph.” you said. You were waking up a little more now, pain spread through your body slowly and you winced with every move. Trying to sit up, you were quickly, but softly, pushed back down by a man in a black t-shirt.

“No, kid, you need to rest.” he said, “Who’s this Joseph? I just want to have a little chat.”

“My foster father.” you sighed. Everybody’s face in the room dropped, especially Penelope’s upon finding out you weren’t safe at home anymore.

“Y/N. . . “ she sobbed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it.” you shrugged, which send a chilling pain from your shoulder to the ends of your toes, and you groaned.

“Take it easy, kid.”

“Y/N M/N Garcia,” Penelope replied firmly, “You have not ever been, nor will you ever be a bother to me. Especially, ESPECIALLY, if you aren’t in a safe situation. I would do anything for you, Y/N. We’re getting you out of that house. When you’re in a dangerous situation don’t you ever think not to tell someone, Y/N.”

She thought for a moment, “In fact, we’re going to do something I should’ve done a long time ago. I’m going to adopt you. No more foster homes, we’ll be together more often, you’ll be safe.”

“Really?” you smiled.

“Yes, really. And we’re throwing Joseph in prison.” you’d never heard anger in Penelope’s voice like you were hearing right now. For a moment, you both cried together. You knew now that you should’ve mentioned it sooner, but that also you weren’t going to have to worry about it anymore. All the pain, it was going to go away. Not mentally, not completely yet, but you were never going to go home and be afraid of what would happen when you stepped through the door. Instead, you would be excited, for every laugh, every smile, every story, every memory that you were going to make with your sister. 

“By the way,” you sniffed, “who are all these people?”

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, “This is my team! That’s Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, JJ, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan.”

“You,” you pointed weakly at Morgan, “you’re the one who calls her ‘Baby Girl.’” the man laughed.

“The one and only.”

“And you,” you pointed at Spencer, “you’re the genius one right? The one that does magic. Tell me a fact.”

“Uh,” he thought for a second, “V616 is the closest back hole to planet Earth. It’s actually 3,000 light years away. Also, black holes warp time and space. If you put a clock in a black hole, but you stood outside of it, it would actually appear to be ticking slower.”

“Of course.” Morgan says, “Of course you would know that.”

“She asked.” the tall man shrugged with a smirk, “I’ve got plenty more of those, too. And yes, magic tricks.”

You turned toward JJ and Emily, “You guys are like, her best friends.”

The two nodded, “Wouldn’t want to be anyone else.” JJ replied. Lastly, you turned to Hotch.

“Boss.”

“Yes.” was all he said in response.

“Why are you all here though?” you asked, “You don’t even know me.”

All of them were quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say, when Emily spoke up.

“Garcia’s family. So you’re family.” the rest of them seemed to agree. You smiled at your apparently newfound family, “Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

Although you ended up falling asleep from the drugs that they gave you for the pain, the next few days consisted of getting to know Penelope’s team. Spencer spent hours telling you things and doing magic tricks, while Morgan, JJ, and Emily told you stories of your sister while she sat and laughed. Hotch visited a few times here and there to check up and say hello.

You began to realize soon enough that a new chapter was about to begin, one without abuse, without Joseph, and with your sister that you looked up to more than ever, and her team that treated you like their own. In the beginning, you were told you might not have enough evidence on Joseph to get him arrested, which all of you found to be complete bull. You were completely laid up in a hospital because of him, but in the end, your tech genius sister “accidentally” happened across some illegal files embedded in his computer, along with multiple abuse complaints about him that just so happened to get the court to allow you to live with Penelope, and Joseph in prison.

#Penelope Garcia #garcia #penelope garcia x reader #Penelope garcia x sister reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x sister reader #criminal minds x y/n #penelope garcia x y/n #spencer reid #reid #derek morgan #morgan #Jennifer Jereau #jj #emily prentiss #prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds imagine #imagine #oneshot #onshots #criminal minds onshots

[anarchyduck]

Spiders on Alcohol

AO3 Link Here

CW: Underage Drinking, but that’s about it

-----

“Sir, you have an incoming call from Mr. Parker.” 

Tony’s first thought is the kid is hurt. The rational side quickly takes over, reminding him that if the kid was hurt then he would receive a message from his AI Karen. The kid could be - has been - on death's door and wouldn’t call. 

His second thought is how late it is. The time on the stove read 12:30 in glowing blue numerals which is way past the kid’s curfew. 

A third rapid thought is it’s also Peter’s night off. His suit isn’t active; FRIDAY would have told him the second it became active. 

“Patch him through.” Tony says as he rinses off a plate and puts it into the dish drainer. 

“Yes sir.” FRI replies. 

There is a brief pause then Tony says, “You’re lucky I don’t need sleep. What’s up?” 

When he doesn’t immediately receive a response, he frowns and turns off the water. Paranoia tugs at the edges of his mind and Tony shoves back the worst case scenarios that try to pop into his mind. He opens his mouth, the kid’s name on his tongue, when Peter finally speaks. 

“Mis’er Stark?” He sounds confused. “Why… Why do you have Happy’s phone?” 

It’s Tony’s turn to be confused. “Because you didn’t call Happy, you called me.” He grabs a nearby dish towel to dry his hands. He can hear what sounds like a car honk and Peter’s breathing. He’s not at home, clearly.

“Oh… Shit.” Peter mutters something Tony doesn’t quite catch. “S-Sorry, didn’t mean… Meant to call Happy. Not-Not that I don’t like talkin’ to you, Mis’er Stark. You, you’re cool and uh…” 

“Yeah, I am cool. What’s going on, kid?” 

“Uhm…” Tony hears the hesitation and for a split second he thinks Peter may hang up on him. “Can, uh, can you…can you like, come get me?” The request is so small, so quiet, and Tony knows something is wrong.

“Yeah,” Tony says immediately. His heart rate spikes with anxiety. Damn kid is going to be the death of him one day, he knows it. God. “Yeah, I can get you, where are you?” 

Peter sighs with relief. “Huh? Uh I’m uh, what street is this… I don’t, hold on-” 

Tony slips on a pair of loafers (grandpa shoes, as Peter calls them) as the call shifts seamlessly from the overhead AI to his phone. He grabs his wallet and keys on his way out the door, and is in the garage by the time Peter comes back on the line.

“Fifth and, uh, Fifty-Nineth.” 

Tony nods to himself as the car revs to life. “Okay, Fifth and,”-- and he pauses as it dawns on him --“Wait, Fifth and Fifty-Nineth? What are you doing so far out of Queens?” 

“I don’t have to stay in Queens all the time.” Tony can practically hear those brown eyes rolling. “I can like go other places, have gone other places! There’s like, a whole big ol’ world out there Mis’ser Stark and yeah Queens is big too I guess and like-” 

Tony frowns lightly and glances toward the dash as he drives. Peter is still rambling and his words are going together and it sounds awfully familiar in a terrible way. 

“Peter are you drunk?” 

The kid blows a raspberry in response. “Whaaat? No! No, I’m not drink, drunk.” His voice cracks and raises a couple octaves as Parker lying syndrome kicks in. “I’m totally, one hundred percent not drunk!” 

“Oh my God.” Tony breathes out a breath. “FRI, find the quickest route. Kid, you stay put. I don’t want you to move an inch off that sidewalk. Got it? Find a bench and park it.” 

----------

He finds the kid exactly where Peter said he would be. He’s laying on a bus bench, one arm hanging over while the other is crossed over his eyes. For a split second, Tony thinks he’s asleep (passed out) but he sees Peter’s leg bouncing where his foot is planted on the concrete. 

“Hey, underoos.” Tony calls as he climbs out of the vehicle. The kid stirs, arm uncovers his face as he looks at him with a goofy grin. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter sits up and practically jumps from the bench. He sways a little on his feet, takes a step back, then bounds forward, damn near skipping as he meets Tony at the car. “Hey, man, wow, you’re here. Cool.” 

“What, did you think I wouldn’t come?” Tony circles around the front of the vehicle where the teen is leaning against the passenger door. He doesn’t look hurt. No blood, no bruising. However, the closer Tony gets, the stronger he smells alcohol, particularly on Peter’s breath. “Wow, damn kid you smell like a brewery.” 

Peter’s brows pinch together as his eyes widen. “Really?” He puts a hand up to his face to check his breath. “Wow.” 

“Yeah, wow. Okay, come on let’s go.” The kid doesn’t put up resistance as Tony puts him into the car. Peter leans back into the leather, eyes wide as he stares up, unaware as Tony buckles him in.

He breathes out and giggles. “Feel like I’m floatin’.” 

Tony snorts with amusement and shuts the door. He rounds the car back to his side, gets in and takes off onto the road. At first, he thinks of heading straight for Queens and depositing the kid at home. But the penthouse is closer and the more responsible side of Tony’s mind says he shouldn’t leave a drunken teenager alone. 

“All right,” he starts. “So spill. What are you doing over here.”

“Got invited to a party.” Peter runs his hand against the bit of smooth metal on the door. “And like,” he sighs as he nestles into the seat. “It was so weird, Mr. Stark because I didn’t know no one, anyone, and it wasn’t anythin’ like Liz’s party. Ned wasn’t there and MJ wasn’t there and it was so weird, Mr. Stark.” 

“Yeah?” it’s all Tony can say to that as the kid barrels on forward. 

“Yeah! Liz, Liz didn’t have alcohol because we were all underage anyway and her dad would’ve killed us. He tried to kill me, ya know? Like… a few times. God what if the dude who owns that house back there is like, this… big super villain who I gotta fight later and how weird would that be? Get invited twice to a party where the-the guy tries killin’ me later.”

“I would say that would be very weird.” Tony agrees. “And that you probably shouldn’t put that out there in the universe.” 

Peter groans and Tony glances over to see him fumbling at the side of his seat. It takes him a second to realize what the kid is looking for.. “FRI, lean his seat back.” 

The kid’s eyes go wide as the seat reclines back and he laughs lightly to himself as he lays back. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” He drags a hand over the side of his face and pokes at his cheek with another laugh. “My face feels weird.” 

Tony chuckles. “Yeah, bet it does. How much did you drink?”

“Uhhh…” Peter trails off as he keeps poking his cheek. “More than one?”

Oh yeah, the kid was going to be feeling it later. “Just promise you won’t throw up in the car.”

----------

To Peter’s credit, he didn’t puke in the car. They make it back to the penthouse and by the time they walk through the door, Tony is almost carrying the kid. Peter rambles the entire way, making comments here and there; talking to Tony; talking to FRIDAY; talking to himself. He’s leaning heavily, stumbling in his steps, and giggling. 

“Okay webs,” Tony sets the kid down on the bed in the guestroom. “Stay here, don’t move, I’ll get you some water.” 

“‘Kay.” Peter says as he flops back onto the bed.

Should he remove his shoes? Tony tries to think back to what others did for him, but comes up with nothing. God what he wouldn’t give for Pepper to be here. She would know what to do. Luckily the kid makes the decision for him and kicks off his shoes as he curls up onto his side. 

“Going to get you some water. Don’t move.” Tony says again, pressing his voice a little firmer to drive his point across. Peter doesn’t do much more than hum in reply and he feels confident enough the kid will be fine for at least a couple minutes. 

Tony runs a hand through his hair as he breathes out a sigh. How did he get stuck babysitting a drunk teenager? That said, it couldn’t be any harder than babysitting a stabbed teenager. Least the kid doesn’t have to worry about needles. May Parker crosses his mind as he fills a glass from the tap and he takes his phone out of his back pocket to send her a message. 

Your kid is staying over at my place for the night. Don’t worry, he’s ok. Working?

Tony receives a reply much quicker than anticipated. 

Double shift 

Trouble?

Well that certainly explains how the kid snuck away from home. He can’t see May letting her sixteen year old nephew go to a party where alcohol would be served. Hell, he’s still wrapping his head around the idea Peter willingly went to a party on his own. He types out a reply:

100% grounded. 

The phone pings with another quick reply.

Totally

Ty tony 

Tony sets the phone down and picks up the glass of water as he rounds the kitchen island to head back into the room. He fully expects to see the kid right where he left him, curled up on his side or maybe on his back again. Humming or singing to himself, complaining about the room spinning. Instead, he finds an empty bed. 

He sets the glass on the bedside table while glancing about the room. “Kid?” he calls, eyes even stealing a look toward the ceiling because who knows at this point.

It’s the sound of gagging and retching that directs him to the bathroom. Door is left open, lights off, and when Tony flips them on, he finds Peter vomiting into the toilet. 

“Yeah, that’s about right.” he sighs.

Peter gags and spits into the bowl. “It went through my nose.” 

Tony grimaces sympathetically. “That’s gross,” he says. The kid heaves again. Tears run down his cheeks as he gasps for breath, no doubt fighting the nausea and contracting muscles. It’s a fight Tony himself knows all too well and lost far too many times. The nights when he was caught in another bender, coming home from some nameless party with or without some nameless face, and always ending up exactly where Peter is now. 

How many times was someone there for him? How many times was he alone?

“I’m so s-sorry.” Peter lets out a strangled sob. “I never… I didn’t mean to be, so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” Tony says as he wets a washcloth in the sink. “A dumbass, yes. But not stupid.” 

“Never should’ve gone to that party. Bad idea. Dumb idea. Didn’t… I didn’t even know no one there and I jus’ wanted to be cool.” 

Tony scoffs. “By drinking a shit ton of alcohol? Yeah. Real cool.” He frowns to himself at the firm undertone and adds, “But I get it.”

Peter spits another sting of bile and takes the offered washcloth to wipe his face. He manages to flush the toilet and attempts to stand on his feet, only to sway backwards and hit the wall with a thump. 

“Ow…” the kid groans and Tony is sure he’s being tested by some form of higher power. 

“Okay,” he sighs. “Let’s get you up before you decide to pass out in my bathroom.” He grabs the teen by his arms to pull him up, finding himself doing most of the lifting despite Peter’s clumsy and fruitless attempts to stand. 

“‘m not gonna pass out…” Peter sniffles as he leans against Tony. He’s still clutching the washcloth. 

“You know,”--Tony maneuvers them back into the bedroom and sits Peter on the edge of the bed-- “for a scrawny kid, you’re solid as hell.” 

“Not scrawny.” 

“Uh huh.” Tony picks up the glass of water. “Think you can hold down some water? You’ll regret it in the morning if you don’t, believe me kiddo.” 

Thankfully the kid manages to take a drink without spilling it on himself. Even manages to put it back on the nightstand without slumping over. “Okay, spider baby, bedtime for you.” Tony eases him down onto the bed on his side, ignoring any and all mumbled protests (“I’m not a baby.”). He draws the blankets over him and leaves just long enough to grab the trash bin from the bathroom. 

Peter hasn’t moved from his curled up spot, but Tony knows the kid isn’t asleep yet. He’s staring at the wall ahead of him, seemingly unaware. Part of him is impressed the teen hasn’t passed out yet. 

“Penny for your thoughts, kid?” 

Peter slowly blinks then frowns. “You’re like… super rich, Mr. Stark. My thoughts are worth way more than a penny.”

“A quarter then.” 

“Cheap.” The kid mutters with a small hint of a smile. It’s gone alarmingly quick as Peter begins to worry the edge of the blanket between his forefinger and thumb. “Jus’ thinking… my Uncle Ben said he’d buy me my first beer. Said it’s like… a dad thing or whatever, but since I don’t have one, he said he’d do it.” 

Ben was a rare subject and one Peter didn’t bring up lightly. It wasn’t fair for the kid. The universe kept throwing more and more shit at him and it wasn’t fair. Anyone else would turn bitter but not Peter. He was good and kind and unlike anyone Tony had met. He’d do anything for this kid.

“Well,” Tony sniffs and clears his throat as he sits on the edge of the bed beside Peter’s legs. “My dad never did that stuff with me either. I was already at MIT when I was your age, going to parties and sneaking into bars. Doubt the man would have done it anyway.” he adds with an undertone of bitterness before charging forward. “Anyway, I’m just saying when you’re older, and I mean when you turn twenty-one, how about I buy you a beer?” The blankets shift and Tony feels eyes on him. “Unless it’s overstepping, which I completely understand and-”

“Yes.” 

The words stop dead on his tongue and Tony finds the courage to look at the kid. There are tears in Peter’s eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yeah?” he presses and the teen nods. A strange weight lifts from Tony’s shoulders to the point he finds himself smiling in return. “It’s a deal then. So no more drinking until then or else I’ll find another intern to dote on.”

“No you won’t.” Peter yawns and settles against the pillow, eyes drooping close. “‘m your favorite.” 

Tony smiles and brushes back some wayward curls from the teen’s face. “Yeah, you are.”

#irondad #marvel #spider-man #peter parker #tony stark #spider-man fic #mcu #duckie's writing #it's done! #the beast has been slain and I'm so proud of it tbh

[kyber-crystal]

Set Up

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.3k

Summary: In which the Avengers are relentless in their attempts to get you and Steve together. If this means going great lengths such as sending you off on a mission-disguised romantic getaway to make you realize your feelings for one another, they’ll seize the chance at the very moment it’s presented to them.

Warnings: None. Just tooth-rotting fluff bc I’ve really been needing it ahaha

A/N: Set in an AU 2017 timeline in which they reunite a year after the whole Accords situation so that everyone’s happy :)

"Rogers. Parasite. Stop watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and get up, you need to get to the meeting room ASAP," Tony stated.

"Says the one who leeches off my granola bar supply," you grumbled as you shot him a death glare. "You've been doing this to me since I was a toddler. A helpless, two-year old against a 16 year-old demon always hungry for everyone's food but his own."

"Still holding the Full House cereal incident against me? Geez, woman, do you ever release your grudges against anyone," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Now come on, let's go."

Exchanging a confused look with Steve, you stood up and followed Tony down the hallway to the meeting room, where Fury was with the rest of the team, waiting.

"Captain Rogers, Agent Y/N," Fury nodded curtly. "I presume you know what's going on?"

"No, sir."

"I need you two to track down a group of mercenaries in downtown Tokyo. You'll be flown out commercially so you can maintain a low profile. The whole process should take no longer than ten days," he explained as Natasha handed him the printed out flight details. "Further information will be given to you upon arrival."

"If it's just the two of us, then why is everyone here?" you pointed out.

"Barton and Maximoff will be checking in with you regularly; and if backup is necessary, I will fly one of them out to meet you. If you don't have any more questions, this meeting is now dismissed. You'll be departing late tonight so if I were you, I'd get to packing right about now."

...

Soon enough you were all packed and ready to go. Because you were too lazy to reach back into your suitcase and grab a sweatshirt, you took Steve's Dodgers hoodie and slipped it on, along with a pair of your favorite sweatpants.

"See you in ten days, okay?" Natasha pulled you in for a tight hug. "Make sure to keep Rogers company, it's a long flight. This is also the perfect opportunity to grow closer...literally."

"Oh shut up, Nat," you scoffed. "We're not...you know."

"Sure you aren't."

"Tony, why don't you get some good rest for once," you turned to your brother, "alright?"

"As long as you admit you're in love with Capsicle," he whispered into your ear.

"I can't admit what's not true."

"Yeah yeah, I can't understand bullshit."

"Tony."

"Y/N," he mocked. "Anyway. Have a safe trip, don't die, yada yada yada."

"Yeah yeah, got it."

A few more rounds of goodbyes later, you and Steve were in the elevator with your luggage, heading down to where Phil was waiting to drive you to the airport.

Your flight was scheduled to take off at 1:45 in the morning, and it was close to 11 p.m when you arrived.

"Your tickets, please," the lady asked as you were about to board the plane. You took them out from your purse and handed them over to her. "Thank you."

"How long's the flight again?"

"Uh...about 14 hours. Pretty long," you replied, as you walked down the aisles, looking at the overhead letters for your seat. "24A, 24B...there we go. Wait, have you been to Japan before?"

"No, I haven't."

"You're gonna love it. They have the best, I tell you, best ramen, and curry, hands down. When Nat, Wanda, and I went on our girls' vacation last spring we wouldn't stop eating for two days straight. I know we're tracking down cold-blooded killers and all, but, it won't hurt to let loose a little, you know?"

"Yeah, definitely," Steve couldn't help but smile at how happy you looked while speaking. "You gotta be our tour guide. I'm trusting you'll lead us to the best ramen hotspots?"

"Oh yeah, I will."

After putting your things into the overhead bins, you settled into your seats. The armrest between you could be lifted convert the seats into a double bed, you quickly found out.

Shortly after taking off you felt yourself grow rather tired. Noticing your sleepiness, Steve raised the armrest and pressed the button to make the seats recline backwards, your head immediately falling against his broad chest. He smiled again, brushing stray hairs away from your forehead before pulling the blanket over your bodies and falling asleep as well.

Little did either one of you know, you were being sent off to Japan for a completely different reason that had absolutely nothing to deal with tracking down mercenaries.

...

The smell of food wakes you up several hours later. You stretched your arms up and ran a hand through your hair as you sat up, adjusting your neck pillow.

"Hey uh, how long were we out for?" you asked, voice still thick with sleep. Steve was already awake, in the middle of watching a movie on his TV.

"4 hours. You knocked out for 5. It's time for lunch...or dinner?"

You tapped your screen a few times to pull up the map of your flight's route. "Right now it's 7:30 p.m. in Tokyo. We're arriving at 4:45 in the morning, so I'd say dinner."

"You sleep okay?"

"Hm? Yeah," you yawned, rubbing your eyes and adjusting the sleeves of Steve's hoodie. "You make a good pillow."

"No problem," he chuckled. You then turned to the flight attendant, who handed you your meals.

"Fancy," you nodded in approval as you passed Steve's tray over to him. "First class sure has its perks...oh yes, miso soup."

You binged your way through several episodes of Pretty Little Liars, I Love Lucy, and Star Wars: A New Hope together. Afterwards, you purchased Wi-Fi so you could update the team on your status.

CHATROOM - AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

Natasha: Morning, lovebirds. You guys in the air already?

You: Yeah, we're eating dinner right now. What time is it back home?

Tony: 6:45 a.m. Pulled an all-nighter binge-watching The Office.

Bucky: Totally worth losing an entire night's worth of good sleep.

Y/N: But I still don't get why we couldn't take the Quinjet?

Steve: ^

Rhodey: Do we tell them now, or wait until they land in Haneda?

Wanda: I'd say now.

Pietro: NO NO NO MAKE IT A SURPRISE

Steve: ...What's going on?

Tony: There's no mission.

Y/N: Wait, what? Then what are we going to Tokyo for?

Tony: I purchased a romantic ten-day vacation package so that you two will hopefully realize your feelings for each other along the way. Thank me later.

Y/N: SCREW YOU

Tony: Enjoy eating all the ramen you want!

Natasha: We're so good at matchmaking.

Thor: May I suggest a virtual high-five?

Peter: VIRTUAL HIGH-FIVE :))

Thor: :))

Y/N has left the chat.

Steve has left the chat.

Tony: They're gonna thank me when they see the penthouse I bought.

Tony has left the chat.

"Well, guess we're going on vacation. At least there's more opportunities to eating good food," Steve shrugged.

"Yup." You felt your heartbeat pick up speed at the thought of being alone with him, for ten days, in a country that was considered both futuristic and romantic at the same time. "Plenty of time to eat ramen and sushi."

Deep down, he was glad that there wasn't any mission. And so were you.

You took an hour-long catnap before waking up again and playing a few rounds of Uno with him, then stayed up for the rest of the flight. You both knew you'd regret doing so because of the 13-hour time difference between NYC and Tokyo, but you were too excited to care at that moment.

You were dazed and still slightly tired when you disembarked the aircraft, so you didn't have any energy to question how you and Steve ended up with your fingers intertwined. Besides, you liked the way it felt.

At close to 5 in the morning, Haneda International was relatively quiet and not too busy, so immigration didn't take long. You didn't have to worry about being bombarded by fans, aside from the occasional foreign fan recognizing you two and asking for a quick autograph or picture.

Since you wanted to explore the airport a bit before taking the train downtown, you looked around at the various shops.

Being a former spy alongside Natasha before joining the Avengers, you were fluent in multiple languages, including Japanese, Russian, French, Spanish, and German. And despite having developed the habit of always preparing for what was to come, you were completely shocked hearing a perfect Japanese sentence roll out of Steve's mouth as he spoke to the cashier.

You practically swooned at how smooth his voice sounded.

"Kore wa ikuradesu ka?" He gestured to one of the kokeshi dolls on display dressed in a sapphire colored kimono with cherry blossom embroidery. (How much is this?)

"3500 yen," the lady replied, "Hatsubai-chū, 3000. Kōnyū shimasu ka?" (On sale, 3000. Would you like to buy it?)

"Hai, kōnyū shimasu." (Yes, I'd like to buy it.)

"Kanojo no tame ni?" (For her?)

"Hai." (Yes.)

She nodded, and Steve handed over several folded bills from his wallet after she finished bagging the item.

"Arigato, gokigen'yō," he thanked her. (Thank you, have a nice day)

"Anata modesu," she smiled warmly. (You too)

"Holy crap, you didn't tell me you were fluent in Japanese, Rogers," you gaped as you walked out of the store together. "When did you have the time to learn it?"

"Back during the Pearl Harbor bombing, Buck and I were sent off with the 107th to Hawaii. Figured it'd be useful if we learned a few phrases."

"Few?" you raised an eyebrow at him. "What you just did back there, that was not just a few phrases! That was fluency!"

"What can I say, I pick up on language quickly," he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. He then handed you the bag with the doll inside. "Here, for you."

"You didn't have to—"

"Consider it my thank-you in advance for taking me to a good eatery," Steve explained.

After grabbing a quick breakfast of coffee and pastries, you took the elevator down to the train station.

You let out a sigh as you sat down, the cool air inside the train loosening the tension in your shoulders a bit. A short fifteen minutes later and you were back in one of your favorite cities in the world.

Steve took a picture of you as you were distracted from looking all around at the skyscrapers and people milling around, face lit up by all the bright and colorful signs, sending it to the chat.

Steve: Just arrived downtown. Got out of the airport half an hour ago.

Tony: Honeymooning Avengers, how cute

Sam: That's hot.

Steve: What time is it over there?

Wanda: We just finished eating lunch. You?

Steve: 7. Going to check into the penthouse. Talk to you guys later.

Wanda: Alright.

Sam: Have fun, lovebirdssssss

Steve has left the chat.

"So," he breathed out as he slipped his hand back into yours and you exited the station, "you ready to go check out where we're staying?"

"Yeah, definitely. You wanna take the subway again, or a taxi?"

"Subway. Actually..taxi. You sound nice when you speak in a foreign language."

"That's the only reason why you want to take a taxi?"

"Yeah, obviously," you scoffed. "I mean, why else?"

"Alright, if you insist," the super-soldier laughed.

A few minutes later, you'd called a taxi over and climbed into the backseat, strapping your seatbelts on.

"Ohayögozaimasu," (Good morning) the man greeted. "Ogenkidesuka?" (How are you) "Īdesu, anata wa?" Steve replied. (Good, and you?)

"Watashi mo jōzudesu. Doko ni ikitai?" (I am good, too. Where would you like to go?)

You looked at your phone, reading out the address of Tony's penthouse to the driver.

A few minutes passed in silence before he spoke up again. "Watashia wa anata-tachi o shitte imasu. Anata wa abenjãzudesu," the driver smiled, glancing at you two from the rearview mirror. (I know you two. You're the Avengers)

"Watashitachidesu," he returned his friendly grin. (We are!)

"Tōkyō ni kuru kikkake wa nanidesu ka?" (What made you come to Tokyo?)

"Chōdo kyūka no tame." (Just for vacation.)

"Nokori no taizai o o tanoshimi kudasai," he said as you were getting out of the car after paying. "Sayonara."

"Sayonara," you and Steve responded before closing the car door behind you.

"Wow," your jaw dropped as you took the elevator up, arriving at the top floor. "Tony actually bought...this...place?"

"Apparently," Steve shrugged, "we could come back and forth between here and the compound as often as we wanted."

The penthouse had a nice, dark aesthetic feel to it, with giant panoramic views of the entirety of Tokyo and modern furniture and spots of dimmed white lights in the ceiling to give off a relaxed vibe.

After unloading your things, you sat down at the giant couch together and decided to plan out the rest of your day.

"When CoCo Curry opens at 11, we can go eat there," you explained as you typed up the plan in a new note. "Tony also snagged us tickets to Tokyo Tower at 3 p.m, so we have a few hours to spare after lunch."

"We can explore the gardens,"  he suggested. "I know you love doing that. There's a botanical garden in Shinjuku we can go to."

"Oh, that one! I didn't have the chance to go last time, so that's perfect," you added 'Shinjuku Gardens' to your list.

Soon enough you had your entire day planned out, and were ready to head out once again.

CoCo Curry was a quaint, little restaurant that hit you with a wave of tantalizing scents as soon as you walked through the doors and sat down at the bar-style seating area where you could watch the chefs cook your food.

"Gonichiwa," you greeted the chef standing behind the counter.

"Gonichiwa," he smiled back. He asked for your orders, and since Steve wasn't sure what to get you had two orders of your favorite dish.

Besides another couple sitting a few seats away, the restaurant was empty so you got your food in under ten minutes. The steaming hot plates of curry rice were set in front of you, and you felt your mouth water as you inhaled the rich aroma.

"This is so good," Steve spoke in between bites. "I'm literally in love."

"Told you I knew my stuff."

You eventually finished eating, and after getting into a small argument with Steve over who would pay (He ended up winning). "It's payback for ordering me good eats," he explained.

"You said that when you bought me the kokeshi doll," you pointed out.

"Still."

This time you decided to go by foot instead of taking the taxi, as the gardens were only a half-hour or so walk from where you were.

"Right in the middle of cherry blossom season," you sighed as the sweet smell of cherries drifted through the air. "Perfect timing."

You walked around the entire place, stopping every so often to admire the various colorful plants or look up at the pastel pink cherry blossom trees, gravel crunching underfoot with each step you took.

The mid-April breeze lightly fanned your hair around your shoulders. Birds chirped out a delightful melody, flying around the cornflower-blue sky. It wasn't too hot or too cold, and that was one of the many things you loved about visiting Asia during the springtime; the weather was bearable, compared to New York City's below-freezing temperatures in winter. You vividly remembered visiting the botanical gardens in upstate New York on a school trip once, and from then on you'd grown attached.

In the centre of the garden was a large lake with flowering lily pads and on the other side of the bank stood a quaint little temple, with a wooden bridge across the middle so visitors could cross over and look at the koi below.

"It's beautiful here," Steve commented as you made your way down the sidewalk, "I wish they had places like this back home."

"Yeah it is, isn't it," you breathed out, unable to tear your eyes away from the lovely sights. "I could do this all day."

"Hey, that's my line," he joked. You chuckled quietly, slipping your hand into his. He laced your fingers together in response, and you felt the butterflies flutter around in your stomach again the longer he held on, and those butterflies turned into hummingbirds as you looked up to meet his piercing gaze.

You're not sure how long you stay like that, gazing into each others' eyes, but it's only when a little girl stops and asks to take a picture that you pull away.

"Captain America and Agent Y/N!" Judging by her looks, she seemed like she came from the US as well. "Can I get a picture with you guys?"

"Of course, sweetie," you smiled. You brushed off the weird feeling you got when your skin made contact with Steve's, and gestured for her to come closer.

Steve scooped the girl up into his arms as she held your hand, and the mother snapped a few quick pictures before he let her back down.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed before skipping away.

At 2:20 you decided to leave and head out to the Tokyo Tower early so you would be avoiding any possible long lines. You were up at the observation deck within twenty minutes.

"This is just....wow," you breathed out, in awe of the breathtaking view you got as you stared out the panoramic windows, the reflective walls casting thin rays of light onto your faces.

If you thought the view from your penthouse was nice, this was a hundred times better. You had almost nothing preventing you from being able to see the entire city in all directions. The sun was hanging high in the sky, the skyscrapers piercing the horizon like pins and needles.

Steve couldn't help but let his gaze linger on you, the way your face brightened up at the sight of Tokyo's stunning view, the way you laughed and smiled more than you ever did back home. It was a rare sight, and he wished he could see you in this state more often. Oh, the things he'd do to keep hearing your musical laugh and million-dollar smile.

...

The next day was jam-packed with activities. You took a two hour train ride down south to Osaka, exploring the cup noodles museum, shopping downtown in Dotonbori, and stuffing yourself with delicious pastries along the way. Before you headed back, you decided to stock up on groceries at the local market. 

You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow that night, waking up to somehow finding yourself in Steve’s arms. You both woke up at the same time, confused as to how you had gotten yourselves into this position, but were too embarrassed and tired to ask. 

This time, you decided to stay within Tokyo, immersing yourselves in going to as many districts as you could and doing as much as possible. 

After a long day exploring the city, you were rather exhausted. With a cup of freshly brewed matcha in hand, you stayed quiet for a while as you soaked in the scenery, watching the city come alive late at night.

When Steve woke up from his nap a few hours later, he found you standing by the window. Smiling to himself, he got up, approaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin atop your head.

"Hi," you greeted, setting your mug down on the coffee table besides you.

"Hey," he murmured into your ear. You closed your eyes and hummed quietly in response, letting your bodies rock back and forth to the rhythm of your steady heartbeats together.

"Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu," (I love you.)

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Watashi mo anata o aishitemasu, Cap." (I love you too, Cap.)

You stepped away so you could turn around to face him, and he pulled you back towards him and pressed his lips to yours.

He couldn't help but smile into the kiss, pulling you closer against him.

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @aspiringmehood donated $50 and requested past John/Dean, in which Sam finds out in the bunker era. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

When they finally make it to where Michael actually has Dean trapped—a bar, of course a bar, with cheesy neon and cozy wood—Sam feels like he can't catch his breath. There's something snarled and massive and thorned, wrapped around his lungs, his chest full of it. Dean smiles at him, at Castiel, pouring a beer and no shadow at all to his eyes, and Sam drags in air and can't—for a second, physically can't—say a word.

They worked their way through layers and layers of memories. Drowning. Hell. Sam heard Dean laughing, warm and vile, and Castiel glanced at Sam and said, that was in Alastair's workroom, and they didn't look at that memory, like they hadn't looked at so many others. Sam always knew that Dean had been through a lot, just like he'd been through a lot himself. It felt different, hearing it. Seeing it, occasionally, when Cas couldn't tell if the real Dean was trapped in the memory or if it was just an echo, and so they had to check, and the loneliness and the mud and the pain just kept stacking up. A lot Sam had known about; a lot he hadn't. Too much, that he hadn't.

After, when Michael's trapped inside Dean's mind and Dean's shut himself into his room, to rest, Sam goes back out into the bunker and walks past Jack and the refugee hunters trying to clean up the mess, and he grabs Cas, and he says, not quietly enough, "Did you know?"

"Know what?" Cas says.

It's the kitchen. Someone might come in, any moment. Sam stares at Cas for a few seconds and then jerks his head, and Cas follows him, down the halls and down the stairs until they reach—Sam can't help but think of it as 'the Dean Cave.' The den. Armchairs, foosball, cheesy neon. His throat closes up again, seeing the daydream of another life, and he grips the back of the recliner Dean said was his very tightly, and tries to articulate the question better. It's incoherent in the back of his head. Revulsion, horror, anger. Worse than anger.

"You—when we were looking for Dean," Sam starts. Tries to start. Cas is silent, behind him. The neon glows cheerfully. "When we—we saw—"

Jesus. He can't say it.

Cas touches his shoulder and Sam flinches violently. When he turns, Cas's hand is still half-extended, his expression regretful. "I'm sorry, Sam," he says. "I always assumed that you knew."

Sam lets out a breath. That he knew. Like it was just—something that was part of the family, growing up.

Cas searches his face. "It was assumed," he says, more slowly. "That the unusual relationship between you and your brother was a—natural extension of what had happened in Dean's past."

The heat in Sam's chest floods red. He's not aware of swinging until it's too late, and then Cas's head snaps back, and then his hand hurts, and he's dragging in air, desperate, and then he covers his face with both hands. He should say sorry—he almost is sorry—but he's also not, and he's also—out of control, like he hasn't been in years. Years, when he's worked so hard to tamp down reactions like this. The fury's roiling up and he realizes his hands are shaking when Cas touches his forearm, and then his wrist, carefully.

"Sorry," Sam says. Cas pulls at his wrist and Sam drops his hands, taking a deep, chest-expanding breath. Everything still feels too tight.

"No, I am," Cas says. He really looks it, his mouth tight. "I shouldn't have—I know you both keep very secret. I didn't realize Dean had kept more of it a secret from you."

In the face of everything, it's impossible to feel weird that Cas apparently knows about him and Dean. He should've realized that they couldn't really have secrets from heaven. It feels secondary.

The memory. Dad's voice, stern, the words barely audible. Dean had yelped and Sam had frowned, not sure what he was hearing. Michael was obsessed with his own father—maybe he was keeping his vessel trapped with Dad. Sam nodded—Cas's eyes glowed—and then they were there, in a motel room, and it was night, and there was Dean—thirteen maybe—stripped naked and pale in the darkness, sitting in the middle of the bed with his head bowed, and Dad in the bathroom, saying like it was a lecture from any other bit of PT, you know you're supposed to be ready for me, and Dean licked his lips and dashed the back of his hand over his eyes, and he said, sorry, sir, I'll remember next time, and Sam had felt frozen, standing there a foot behind Cas's shoulder, his brain somehow not putting two and two together until Dad came out of the bathroom bare-chested, undoing his belt, saying, I know you will, and there was—on the bedside table—

It turned out that thought-projections couldn't vomit. KY is still the brand Dean buys.

He sits in his recliner. Feels like his legs won't hold him. Cas hovers uncertainly, for some time that passes without Sam realizing, because it feels like an hour or an instant before the door closes, and he's alone, watching the wall, going over it, in his head. He can't help it. All these years, he's been trained—find the evidence, make connections, build a case. Cas took him out of the memory and said not there and didn't sound the least bit surprised, and Sam had barely helped after that, all of him locked into thinking—no. No.

He sleeps in his own room, that night. They usually do, when other people are around. He doesn't expect to actually fall asleep, but he does, and is surprised to find it dreamless. It's after nine o'clock when he finally drags himself out of bed, and when he makes it to the kitchen there's Jack, reading something on a laptop at the kitchen table, and he looks up and smiles at Sam like sunshine, and there, over by the griddle, Dean.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Dean says, glancing at him. "What, did your alarm not go off or something?"

He's making pancakes. He looks tired. Sam smiles at him and knows it's half-assed, but a lot of shit has been happening and Dean lets him get away with it, just grunting and turning back to the griddle, and Jack says, "I made coffee!" and, christ, okay. Jack's coffee. Sam lets Jack pour him a mug and sits down at the table, too, and lets Jack tell him all about some potential hunt he's found in Jackson Hole, and Dean sits down next to Sam after a few minutes of excited babbling with two plates of pancakes, one of which he slides Sam's way. "Let the guy wake up a little, Jack," Dean says. His knee and hip and elbow brush Sam's side and Sam thinks, again, pointlessly: no. Dean says, "Eat, you look like crap," and Sam says, fulfilling his part, "You're one to talk," but Dean doesn't really smile like he ought to because there's an archangel inside him, and Sam can't—it's too much. He can't hold everything, all at once.

He eats a pancake. He drinks his coffee. He goes for a run, ten miles, the air cold but not cold enough to freeze the roil of feeling into stillness. When he comes back more of the refugees are gone until it's just Maggie, talking with Jack in the library, and Cas is sitting with them like some weird, awkward chaperone. Sam goes to take a shower, and leans his forearms against the wall and his head against his clenched fists while the hot water boils down, and he thinks about the times he'd be sent to stay with Bobby or with Pastor Jim or with Caleb for weeks at a time, and Dad and Dean were alone together, and the thing is that he can't remember. Nothing felt wrong. Maybe more correct to say that nothing felt any more wrong than anything else. When Sam and Dad would argue, Dean would take Dad's side more often than not, and if he didn't then he sat still on the far side of the motel room, and Sam had hated him for that, when he was a teenager. He'd thought, Dad's loyal lapdog. He'd thought, get a life, Dean, meanly, and when they had that last drag-out fight before Sam went to school, Dean had run outside to him, on the road outside that shitty ramshackle house, and he'd said, he doesn't mean it, Sam, and he'd said, don't go, and Sam had pushed away, had started walking right then, and Dean had watched him go, standing alone in the road, the house's dark windows looming behind his back.

A natural extension, Cas said. Sam shuts off the water, dries off. Wraps the towel around his waist and goes to his room, and when he opens the door Dean's sitting on his bed, with a bottle of whiskey on the bedside table, waiting for him.

"Long shower," Dean says.

"Long run," Sam says. The corner of Dean's mouth turns up but it doesn't look happy. It's noon, or near enough, and Sam doesn't even fake an objection when Dean pours them two glasses from the bottle, and when Dean holds out to clink Sam does, slowly.

Dean looks at him, and drains his glass. Sam sips at his. "I asked Cas to take the kids on that hunt Jack was telling us about," Dean says, and refills his drink. "Got the bunker to ourselves."

Sam takes another swallow. He didn't eat enough and whiskey's blooming hot in his stomach.

"You want to talk to me about something, Sam?" Dean says.

A beat. Sam's mouth feels dry, despite the taste of peat.

"Dug through my head, right? To find me? Cas let me know. Guess it took a while." Dean holds his glass in front of his mouth like he's going to drain it again, but then puts it down on the bedside table, and sits forward. His shoulders are hunched, purple bruise-marks under his eyes, and for all that he's springing a trap he just looks—like Sam wants to pull him down to the bed, hold him, sleep for a week tangled together with their skin touching like a promise.

The silence stretches. Dean closes his eyes and looks even more exhausted than before. Sam goes to his wardrobe, tugs on jeans and a t-shirt at least. He holds the wet towel between his hands and can't think. It's still hot and raw inside him, because it's been—a day. Less than a day. How long, he thinks, for Dean, and without his brain attached to his mouth he says, "When," and then wishes immediately to be struck by lightning.

Dean snorts. Sam turns his head and finds Dean shifted around, so his back's to the headboard, one leg extended along Sam's bed. He tips his head back against the wall, eyes still closed. "Suck my dick and I'll tell you," he says, matter of fact, and Sam's stomach flips even if the tone was perfectly even.

"Jesus christ," Sam says, and collapses into his desk chair. He hunches, can't help it—elbows on his knees, his hands in his hair. He keeps seeing it. Dean had been—not scared, but nervous. Like he knew what was coming. The dark, other than the light coming in from the bathroom, and his knees tugged up shyly to hide his nakedness, and how he'd been big-eyed and soft-mouthed and his skin looked—bruiseable. And of course he'd had bruises, all the time—they both had—and Sam had never, never—

"You don't get to be pissed about this, Sam," Dean says. Sam looks up and finds Dean watching him, his eyes tight. "It's nothing to do with you."

"You think—" Sam says, and closes his mouth before he says something stupid. He sits back in the chair and takes a deep breath. Of course Dean thinks that. "I'm pissed," Sam says. "And yeah, I get to be. But—god, Dean, I'm not pissed at you." He pauses, with Dean just looking at him, steady. "Okay, that wasn't true. Yeah, I'm kinda pissed at you. Because you didn't—" He shakes his head. "But I'm pissed at him."

Everything he ever accused Dean of, in his head or out loud. Everything in his head, stained now, like blood seeping through layer after layer of cloth, changing things irrevocably. He thinks, out of nowhere, of Dean's birthday, when he turned twenty and Dad gave him the Impala, and he tossed Dean the keys and Dean whooped and hugged him, tight, and Dad's hand cupped the back of Dean's head, and Sam hadn't thought anything of it, then. He holds Dean's head like that, he thinks. When they're together. When Dean's on top of him, and smiling down in that soft way he'll smile sometimes, and Sam will cup the back of his head tenderly, and bring him down, and kiss him.

Dean's still looking at him. "That first time," Sam says. "You and me. Were you—was it still—"

"What, are you jealous?" Dean says. Laced, just lightly, with acid.

"Just tell me," Sam says, and his voice sounds weird, and Dean's eyes dip, and slant away.

"Yeah," he says.

Sam closes his eyes.

The first time. Sam was eighteen with an acceptance letter in his duffle, and it was June, and Dad had disappeared for a month on some weird hunt. Dean had let him get drunk and he'd been—terrified and happy, nervous and needing, and he'd leaned in laughing against Dean's shoulder, and Dean had thrown his arm around Sam's shoulders and said you're such a lightweight, bitch, and Sam had been so full and glad and it had felt right, to kiss Dean's throat, and when Dean had gasped to lean up and kiss his mouth. Sam still remembers how it felt. Soft and wet, mainly, but with his whole body thrumming like a struck bell. They hadn't fucked for real that night but Dean had gotten him off twice, and Sam had jerked Dean off awkwardly, leaning over him and watching his face, and in the middle of the night he'd said don't freak out, and Dean had been quiet and then curved into his body and said, softly, who's freaking out?, and it had been—okay. Sam thought. It was okay.

If Sam was eighteen, Dean was twenty-two, and if Dean was twenty-two that meant that if Dad had still—if they'd still been—Dean was an adult, and he could've got halfway across the country if he wanted, and he didn't. Now, Dean's forty and Sam's thirty-six, and they've had about fifty lifetimes between here and there, and still Sam feels, in this second, about twelve years old, looking at his big brother and wanting answers.

Dean tongues the inside of his cheek, and says, inexplicably quiet, "Sam, can you—" He works his jaw— "Could you come here. Please."

Dean doesn't say please. Sam gets up, and walks the two steps to the bed, and Dean looks at him with his face drawn and sore and tired, and Sam sits by his hip, and tips forward, and lands with his back twisted painfully with his face in Dean's shoulder. He breathes in Dean's smell, and feels the tug when Dean's hand fists into his t-shirt. It's familiar, from all their years together. His brain flashes to them in bed—to pushing into Dean, his face tucked into Dean's warm shoulder, held safe and close—and then, cruelly, he imagines—their dad—his bulk tucked into the same warm closeness of thighs, Dean holding his shoulders, cupping his head, arching under him just like he does with Sam—

"I was—" Dean starts, while Sam's breathing through the roil of sickness in his gut. He hears Dean swallow. "It doesn't matter, Sammy. I was—it wasn't—" A pause. Sam licks his lips, and goes to sit up, but Dean's hand lands on the back of his head, keeps him in place. His fingers tangle in Sam's hair. He says, again, "It doesn't matter," only of course it does.

"I wish I'd known," Sam says, muffled against Dean's shoulder.

"What good would that have done?" Dean says. It sounds flat, exhausted.

Sam doesn't know. Maybe it would have hurt more. There's so much he doesn't know that's torturing him, now. Things he should've known. Things other people would've hurt Dean with—Azazel, Alastair, Lilith. Ruby. Crowley. Castiel, and all the angels, and Michael, fuck, Michael, crowding up inside Dean, telling him—the same cruelties Lucifer had told Sam, every second, filling him to the brim and saying, always, you're weak, you let this happen, this is your fault, everything is your fault.

They're sick, the questions Sam wants to ask.

"I'm gonna tell you one thing," Dean says. Sam shifts against him and Dean drags his hand down to Sam's neck, warningly tight. "One. And you don't get to ask anything else."

Sam nods, against his neck. Shifts his hips, so he's less cramped, and takes a deep breath.

"It was when you left," Dean says. "He was drunk. I mean, he got drunk a lot, right around then. We were in Colorado, at a cabin, and he got trashed, and he wanted—" A swallow. Dean's thumb drags up Sam's neck, rests soft under his ear. "I wanted it, too. Didn't want to think. It was rough. You know he used to hit me, sometimes? He hit me, during, and I—made fun of him. Said it didn't hurt, wasn't hard enough. Drove him crazy. I'd had a few, too. Parts of it I don't remember. Blacked out, I guess. I guess somewhere in there he broke my nose, and I know I got him, too, because he disappeared for a day and when he came back he had a black eye. He brought back a real ice pack, like a medical-grade one, and he let me take a bath and he patched up my nose, and for dinner we had like honest-to-god steaks, from some restaurant down in Boulder, and he slept in my bed that night, to stay close, and I just kept thinking about you."

Sam's breathing hard. Dean squeezes his neck, comforting.

"I wanted you back," Dean says. "He knew it. We started hunting separate more often, after that. I couldn't stand it but, you know, what choice did I have."

"I wouldn't," Sam says. He pushes up, breaks Dean's hold. His heart feels turned inside-out. Dean's resigned, spent. "Dean, I—"

"You're freaked," Dean says.

"Yeah, no shit," Sam says. He cups Dean's face, feels him warm, hard. Sam's. "But I'm not leaving. Okay? I'm not leaving, I'm never leaving again."

Dean looks at him, and puts his hand on Sam's chest. "I know you won't," he says, after a little while, and Sam takes the chance and leans in and—and kisses him, very softly, just touching their lips together. It's Dean who deepens it, after a few seconds. Selfish, licking and gripping Sam's hair, almost desperate. Sam lets him—of course, he lets him—and it feels like an age before Dean pulls back, his forehead pressed against Sam's and his breath coming fast between them. Sam cups his head, ignoring the nastiness that flickers in his belly. The past doesn't get to ruin this.

"Sam, you know I love you, right?" Dean says.

Sam laughs, shakily. "Yeah, I know that," he says.

They never say it. Not like it's necessary. Dean cards his fingers through Sam's hair and holds on, tight, his body tense. Sam wraps an arm around his shoulders, not knowing what comfort to give.

"Good," is all Dean says. He leans his temple against Sam's and sighs. Their bones sit hard against each other, but Sam doesn't move. He can feel Dean's heartbeat, like a pounding drum.

#fffr #aspiringmehood #wincest #john/dean #the full house of wincest #my writing #--it's fun to imagine how lebanon would go #with this as the background

[aquietwritingcorner]

Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 17582 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 3 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

_____________________________

Chapter 3

At some point, Havoc managed to fall asleep for a few hours. When the next morning came, it was without much sign of the dawn. The house itself seemed to be holding something heavy, and Havoc couldn’t shake that feeling. Still, he got on up. His legs were still killing him, but he refused to let them keep him in bed, not after what happened yesterday. Normally Breda slept through Havoc getting up, or at least rolled over and got back to sleep for a few minutes, but today he didn’t seem willing to, and instead got up with Havoc as well. Neither of them said a word, but Breda did keep an extra eye on Havoc, which Havoc couldn’t really blame him for. They made their way down the stairs together, Havoc stopping to look in the living room, Mustang was still there, reclined on some pillows, with Hawkeye still in his arms. Hayate was sleeping nearby them. Havoc and Breda exchanged a look, then both made their way to the kitchen, very quietly. Neither of them wanted to disturb Hawkeye, not after last night.

Fuery was already in the kitchen, it apparently being his turn on watch. He had a much-needed pot of coffee going, and both Havoc and Breda partook in it before helping with breakfast. It wasn’t long into the process of cooking breakfast that Falman joined them, apparently in the same boat as Havoc and Breda as far as sleeping in went. Falman stopped to look at the sleeping pair, and Fuery joined him for a second.  Havoc saw Fuery make a beckoning motion, and within moments Hayate was joining them in the kitchen.  Soon after the little dog was quietly eating on some leftovers seasoned with a little bacon grease while the other men quietly drank their coffee and ate. No one talked. No one spoke. Everyone kept silent. Finally, though, as they finished up, Falman broke the silence.

“How long do you think we should let them sleep for?” he asked, his voice still soft, almost muffled in the oppression that seemed to hang in the air, the sound of pouring rain adding to it.

“As long as they want to,” Breda said firmly. “After last night, they both need it.”

“Hawkeye especially,” Fuery said, looking down at his coffee. “The way she screamed and begged…” he trailed off. “It was haunting.”

Breda looked over at Havoc curiously. “Look, Hav, I’m not trying to pry, but when you and the captain and general were here last time, did you have any hint of this?”

Havoc frowned, and leaned back in his seat, trying to figure out just what to tell them. What would be too much, and what would be alright? Finally, he sighed and sat up straighter.

“The whole way here, on the train, in town, on the way to the house, Hawkeye gave Mustang the cold shoulder. No, it was more intense than that. It was like she was walking on the border between being angry and outright attacking him. Maybe not physically, but some sort of attack,” he said. “Anytime he tried to show her any compassion or worry, she had sharp words and would jerk away from them. He got really frustrated with it too, although he tried to be calm.”

He frowned. “There were a few times that stuck out, though, when Hawkeye either left, or when I though the two of them were about to come to blows. One time was when I started to ask if her father had taught the general Flame Alchemy. I didn’t even finish the sentence before she was out the door to check on the horses. Another was when the General asked her where her father would keep his notes, and she said something like ‘He never told me where he planned to put his notes. Sir.’ And I got the feeling that there was something a lot heavier to that. I never got clarification on what.”

He looked up at the men. “Mustang did keep looking after her, though. He made sure she wasn’t in her father’s bedroom alone. Her dad apparently died in it, while she was looking after him. And he sent her out of the study at one point and burned something he found after that. He never seemed to expect her to go in the basement. He was real squirrelly about me being down there too.”

“Actually,” he blinked. “It was after that, that things took a turn. Hawkeye disappeared, and we searched to find her. I found her on the roof, and she all but admitted that she used to come on the roof a lot as a child because it was hard to find her there. But while we were up there… well, she broke down on me. We talked a little, although no, she didn’t tell me much of anything, but after that she and the general seemed to patch it up.”

Havoc shook his head. “I don’t have any details on what her childhood was like, and even less on her father. But, well, from what I did learn, it seemed like Mustang was the only bright spot in her childhood, and that her father was a fan of harsh punishments.”

“…do you think that’s what went on in that basement?” Fuery asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Harsh punishments?”

“Even ‘harsh punishments’ shouldn’t leave someone with so much trauma attached,” Breda said. “Not trauma like that. This was… something more.”

“Something a lot more,” Havoc said with a frown. “This might explain a lot about her,” he said.

Falman’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want to analyze the captain too much, not without her permission, but…” he looked up at the other men. “It sounds to me as if Hawkeye was abused as a child. Even before… whatever that was.”

The others shifted uncomfortably, but none of them argued the point.

Finally, Havoc spoke as well. “I think she was also neglected. From the way she talked last time, it sounded like she didn’t always have food or maybe other things she needed.”

“So, he was a crap father all the way around.” Breda said.

“The only good thing I can say, is that Hawkeye told a story about when Mustang was first here, and she was a child swimming in the pond. Mustang stumbled on her, thought she was drowning, tried to rescue her, and Hawkeye thought he was after her. She socked him in the nose and ran back to the house screaming for her father. He apparently drew the line at that and was angry at Mustang until it was all worked out.” Havoc said.

“If the only good thing you can say about the man is that he protected his daughter from perverts, then that’s not saying much about him, since that’s basic,” Breda said. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed. “No wonder she was able to survive Ishval as well as she did. She already had the coping skills that other snipers didn’t.”

“Twice the trauma,” Fuery said.

“Or more,” Falman put in, “depending on what happened in that basement.”

“Yeah.”

The men fell silent and then, one by one, got up to attend to the chores for the day. They went through all of them quietly, not daring to wake either Mustang or Hawkeye.

When Mustang woke up, he didn’t leave the couch or Hawkeye, adamant about not leaving her. Hawkeye had really exhausted herself, Havoc figured, because it was nearing noon before she began to stir. Lunch was Fuery’s soup reheated, and they ate it in shifts, the men having unconsciously agreed that someone should be in there with Hawkeye and Mustang at all times, just in case. It was Havoc’s unofficial turn on watch, and he sat in the living room in a chair, reading a book while the fire crackled in the fireplace. He could hear Breda and Falman talking over plans for exploring and analyzing the basement, and Fuery working on cleaning up the kitchen. But when Hawkeye stirred, his attention snapped to her, and he signaled to Breda. Within moments all had fallen silent, the other three men hovering near the doorway, watching carefully.

“Riza?” Mustang said softly, and she let out a soft sigh and tried to turn over. Of course, being on a couch, she couldn’t, causing her to wake more. She blinked sleepily up at Mustang.

“Mm… Roy?” she said, her voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said gently. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.”

She blinked at him then, and then looked around confused. “Why are we on the couch?” she asked. “And…what’s going on?”

“You cried yourself to sleep on me,” he said. “And I promised I’d not leave you.”

Hawkeye looked around, and Havoc could see that she was still confused, especially when she saw the others gathered in the doorway. With the way they were looking at her, Havoc figured it was clear that something else besides just falling asleep on her commanding officer had happened.

“What’s… what’s going on?” she asked, and Havoc could see her tensing up.

“Riza,” Mustang redirected her attention to him, and Havoc took note that neither of them had moved off of each other. “What’s the year?”

“The… year?” Her brow furrowed, although Havoc thought it was more at the question then because f trying to remember the date. “It’s 1916,” she said.

“And do you know who each of these men are?” he questioned her.

“Yes,” she said, shooting him a strange look before redirecting her attention to each of them. “First Lieutenant Jean Havoc. First Lieutenant Heymans Breda. First Lieutenant Vato Falman. Master Sergeant Kain Fuery.” She named them all dutifully, but the question as to why he was asking her this was clear in her tone.

“Good,” he said. “Now—What do you remember about last night?”

“Last night?” The question seemed to surprise her more than the others, and Havoc saw her take a quick glance down herself, looking for injuries. Finding none, she seemed to refocus on the question. “I…” she paused. “I’m not sure. The last thing I remember was… Let’s see. I finished cleaning. There weren’t any more chores to be done. I thought I heard someone moving around, and I was about to see if it was Havoc. But then I saw that the basement door was open when it hadn’t been before, and something didn’t feel right. I called out for Havoc, but before I heard an answer, I was… I was pushed from behind, and into the basement,” her voice sounded surprised, and there was a trace of something Havoc didn’t want to hear in her voice. It sounded like fear. “I… I tried to get out, but it was locked. I couldn’t escape, and I—” She shuddered. There was definitely fear in her voice now, and in her body language too. “I… I couldn’t… I….” She trailed off, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, and Havoc could have sworn he heard her say something that sounded like “just like the last time” but he couldn’t be sure.

Mustang’s hand came up to stroke her hair. “Do you remember anything after that?” He asked her gently.

She shook her head and lowered her hand. “No. Just… panic. Nothing but panic.” She looked up at Mustang, glanced at the rest of them. “What happened to me?”

Msutang shook his head. “We’re still working some of that out,” he said. “But we really don’t know. What we do know is that when we got back from town you were missing. We found you in the basement and… Riza… you were deep in the throes of a flashback. We couldn’t break you out of it and drug you up here. You eventually recognized me, but thought I’d come back after your father kicked me out.”

She looked horrified. “I—I—” Havoc had never seen her at a loss for words like this, but she didn’t seem to know what to say. “A-and… did I…?”

She trailed off, glancing at him and the others, and there seemed to be something that she was unwilling to say. Havoc both desperately wanted to know what, but also didn’t want to invade her privacy. Still, what could she be hiding? It burned at him.

Mustang glanced at them as well, and then refocused back on her. “Not in so many words. But they know something happened down there. Something very bad.” She made a strange noise in the back of her throat and let her head fall into his chest. Mustang stroked her hair. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. But you will need to tell them something. I haven’t. It’s not my place.”

She sighed, and after a moment, turned her head from where it rested, looking at them with a bone-weary expression on her face and an old pain in her eyes. It was clear to Havoc that she wasn’t currently ready to tell them anything.

“…. Why don’t you let me get you something to eat or drink,” Fuery said, his voice full of kindness. “You both could use something.” Apparently, Havoc wasn’t the only one to see she wasn’t ready yet.

“Yes, thank you, Fuery,” Mustang said, then turned his attention back to Riza, murmuring to her, something too quiet for the rest of them to hear. She seemed to respond, although Havoc had no idea what she was saying.

That was alright by Havoc. They two of them probably needed some time to figure things out, especially now that Hawkeye was back to her senses—something that honestly relieved Havoc.

Mustang got Hawkeye to eat some of the soup that Fuery brought them, but she clearly didn’t have much of an appetite, and the bowl came back mostly untouched, to Fuery’s worried disappointment. Havoc saw Breda give the young man’s shoulder a squeeze at one point. All of them wanted to do something to help, although no one was quite sure what. Mustang and Hawkeye stayed in the living room most of the afternoon, quietly talking things over. No one bothered them. Going in there almost felt like an intrusion to Havoc, and it wasn’t hard to tell that the others agreed.

Around supper time, Mustang managed to cajole Hawkeye upstairs for a shower, although she still looked shaken to Havoc’s eyes. Nothing else to be done, Havoc reheated Fuery’s soup again, and soon the four of them were eating supper. Footsteps caught their ears and Havoc looked up when Mustang appeared in the kitchen. He looked serious and grim as his eyes traveled over all of them. “When you’re finished,” he said, “come to the living room. She’s decided to tell you.”

With that he left, and Havoc exchanged looks with the others. The question of what, exactly, she was going to tell them hung over Havoc’s head, and, with her reaction, he wasn’t quite sure if he even wanted to finish dinner. Uneasy looks passed between all of them, assuring Havoc it wasn’t only him that was feeling uneasy about this. They all knew that Hawkeye had trauma. But it was one thing when it was war. It was another when it was a deep, traumatizing, childhood secret of a close friend, and it didn’t seem to sit well with anyone else either.

As they finished eating, they cleaned up the food, and Fuery took the time to fix a cup for tea before they left.

“For Riza,” he said softly, and Havoc couldn’t really fault him for that. She probably could use it no matter what.

They filed into the living room, Hawkeye and Mustang sitting once again on the couch. Havoc sat in a nearby chair, and the other men settled in as well. Hawkeye was in fresh clothes, this time what looked to be a button down of Mustangs, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was down, still looking a little damp. Mustang was right beside her, a hand on her arm. The rain outside poured in a steady sound, the fire crackled in the fireplace. The room almost had a feel of a confession to it, and it made Havoc uncomfortable.

Fuery handed Hawkeye the mug of tea before sitting down, and she took it with a murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around it, although she didn’t take a sip of it. And then, they waited.

And finally, Riza spoke.

“My father,” she said, the words feeling heavy, “was an alchemist. This you already know.”

It was something that they knew, but somehow this pronunciation of it seemed heavier to Havoc, as if there was a weight to it.

“I have few early memories of him. I think he loved me at one point, because I do remember him playing with me. But that all changed when mother died.”

No one said a word. Everyone was listening too closely. Havoc found it almost hard to breathe.

“When I was four, my mother died. I don’t remember her, not really. Just… associations. Music. Light. Laughter. Hugs. Flowers. Happiness. After she died, none of that existed anymore. Father threw himself into his work, and I was left behind. I often had to fend for myself, and I learned to take care of myself. Father didn’t care about me anymore.”

She turned the mug in her hands, her eyes staring at it, but not really seeming to see it. “I mentioned that when I broke that plate, I got my first thrashing. I was five. Father had been on a research bender. When he emerged from his study to find that, he was enraged. I couldn’t sit down for days without pain. That, I remember clearly.”

Havoc felt his jaw set. Breda was on the stool next to him, and Havoc could see the other man tense, although there was still a waiting look in his eyes. A realization entered Havoc’s mind. This wasn’t what had her begging in the basement for her father to stop. The thought made him sick. It had to be something worse than that, but what else could it be? Dark possibilities whispered at the corners of his mind. Whether he wanted to know or not, Havoc was going to find out what happened.

Riza continued. “I learned over the years to avoid my father after his research bends. He was always more volatile then. I also learned to fend for myself, to stay quiet, and not to bother father. He was a frightening man. I took care of the house, and of myself, and father took care of his studies. That was how we coexisted.”

She paused, looking down into the tea again. “Money was… sparse. We often did without. I learned to hunt, forage, and grow food. I traded up for chickens and a goat. I sold whatever I could just so we would have a little money that father wouldn’t completely spend on alchemy supplies. It was never enough, though.

One day, father started to take on apprentices. I quickly learned to avoid them, and that most of them wouldn’t last long. They never did. And then, one day, he took on a boy named Roy Mustang. To my surprise, he lasted.”

Havoc switched his attention to look up at Mustang. He could see him sitting there tightlipped, unhappy. He clearly wanted to do something, although what that something was, Havoc didn’t know. It honestly looked like Mustang himself didn’t know.

“Roy grew to be my father’s most talented pupil, and he wanted to share the secrets of his research with him—the secrets of Flame Alchemy.”

It wasn’t as if it wasn’t something that they hadn’t all guessed, but to hear Riza say that her father was the one who evented Flame Alchemy felt like a huge secret had just been dropped in their laps. There was some uncomfortable shifting, and Havoc exchanged a brief look with Breda.

“However,” she continued, “Roy made the decision to join the military instead and father, incensed, disavowed him and kicked him out. After that, father locked himself into the basement, and threw himself into his research in a frenzied way like I’d never seen before. I was afraid that he was going to die down in that basement.”

She paused to take in a breath, and then to swallow, and Havoc tensed up. Bad things were coming. He could feel it.

“I was on the verge of figuring out how to get down to him myself, when he finally opened the door and half collapsed on the stairs. I thought he was dead, and it frightened me, but some water and food revived him. Then he asked me a question that I thought I’d never hear: ‘My Riza, do you want to help me with my work? Can I trust you with it?’ and I, astonished at this, said yes.”

She let out a sardonic laugh and Havoc saw her hands tighten on the mug. “He wanted me. Me! He never wanted me. I was little more than a nuisance to him on a good day. But now he wanted me to help him with his research? He wanted to trust me with it? Of course, I said yes.”

Something about the way she said that sounded like a death sentence, but Havoc didn’t have time to focus on that, not when she was continuing.

“A couple of days later, he took me down to the basement, and he shut the door behind us.”

Havoc stilled.

“He sat me down on the table and gave me something to drink.”

His breath caught.

“It left me feeling groggy and tingly and out of it. And then he had me take off my shirt.”

Dread filled his chest, and the shake her voice made it worse.

“Once that was done, he had me lay down, with my bare back to him. He secured me in place with those ropes.”

Her voice was trembling, and Havoc felt his stomach roll.

“And then he began to draw on my back.”

Havoc blinked. What? What? That—that wasn’t what he was expecting. But from the catch in Hawkeye’s voice, there was something more serious about this then he realized—then any of them realized.

“For hours he drew out his array in perfect detail on my back. And then—”

She cut herself off and, after a pause, sat the untouched tea down. Her face was pained, and no one knew what she was about to do. She turned away from them, letting the blanket drop, and began to unbutton her shirt. Havoc knew he should look away, protect her privacy. He felt like he shouldn’t see whatever it was about to see, that it was something forbidden and dark. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. When her shirt dropped and her back was exposed, he felt his blood run cold and his stomach wanted to expel everything it had ever eaten. In horror, he looked over at the others, each of them looking just as horrified, none of them expecting this.

How could they have?

Covering her back, from the bottom of her neck past the small of her back, and stretching from side to side was a large, intricate, red tattoo, one that was clearly a more complicated version of Mustang’s array. And it was marred by heavy scars.

Her voice shook as she spoke, her back still facing them. “He began tattooing it on my back. I was fifteen, and he was my father. It hurt, it was painful, but I thought—I thought—”

Her voice broke, and they could see her shoulders shaking. “I thought he would love me,” She finally continued, and her voice broke Havoc’s heart. “I thought I was baring a great honor for him. I thought it was something that I could finally do for him. But he never cared for me, just his research and his array. I was still nothing to him, and there was nothing I could do about it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”

There was bitterness in her voice, but also tears, and Havoc’s heart, broken thought it was, twisted inside him for her.

“About a year after it was completed, he died. Roy came back, and… I thought… I showed him the array, and he studied it. We thought we could help people with it. But… Ishval happened and I…”

It was clear that her emotions were getting the better of her, but she forged on, shaking her head. “I was the barer of flame alchemy,” her voice was shaking, but hard. It was emotional, but determined. “I chose who to give it to. And after that I swore that there would be no more flame alchemists. I asked Roy to burn it off of me. There could be no more flame alchemists. There couldn’t—I wouldn’t—”

A breath that sounded more like a sob escaped her, and she stopped talking. Her arms wrapped around herself as her shoulders shook, and Havoc could see her fingers digging into her elbows. Only her not-sobs, the pouring rain, and the crackling of the fire made any noise. No one knew what to say or what to do. It certainly explained a lot. It explained why Mustang and Hawkeye were so close. It explained why She was always wearing high necked things and refusing to wear things that showed her back. It explained why she always wore those turtlenecks under her uniform. It explained why she chose to stay with Mustang, so she could keep an eye on the flame alchemy that she had given him.

It’s explained her breakdown in the basement earlier, and why that place affected her the way it did.

The silence stretched, and finally Havoc, unable to stand it any further, pushed himself to his feet. He felt all eyes, except for Hawkeye’s, follow him. He ignored them, only focused on the woman in front of him. Without a word, he came to sit beside Hawkeye, on the other side of her, and reached out to her.

“Let’s get you put back together,” he said quietly, kindly, gently, as he reached out for the shirt. He carefully pulled it up and over her shoulders, guiding her arms back into it and doing up the buttons on it.

“Riza—listen carefully. We love you. We care about you. It doesn’t matter about your past or what you did, or how scared you were then. We still care about you.”

He reached up to gently pull her hair out of the collar line of the shirt.

“Thank you for explaining this to us. You’ve been through a lot more then I could have ever imagined, and at the hands of someone who should have fought to protect you, not sought to harm you. And what he did was harm. It harmed your mind and it harmed your body. But listen, Ri—you’ve got something so much better than that now. You’ve got us. And We’re not going to let anyone hurt you, or use you again, alright? I need you to believe and trust that. Can you?”

Hawkeye’s eyes were locked on his, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’d still… after all of…” she seemed to be struggling for words. “…You don’t think less of me?”

It was honestly not a question he had even considered, and she deserved to know as much. “Never, Riza,” he said. “I think you’re stronger than I ever imagined you were.”

She looked at him, a strange vulnerability in her eyes, something that made Havoc think about his young nieces and nephews, when they knew they had done something wrong that they were sorry for and were waiting for confirmation that they were still loved. Havoc was struck, then, that this was a glimpse into child-Riza, waiting to hear that someone, somewhere, cared about her, herself, who she was, and without condition. It was something that never received then.

Havoc would give it to her now.

“I could never think less of you, Riza.”

They were honest words, spoken as honestly as he could say them. He could tell that she believed him, but she still looked out at the others, uncertainty in her eyes.

No one in the team showed the slightest hesitation in what they said.

Breda nodded and stood, taking a couple of steps closer to her. His hand rested on her shoulder. “It makes me think less of your father. But you? Never, Riza.”

Falman stood as well, coming closer. “Few people could survive what you did as intact as you are. I’m amazed. It makes me think more of you.”

Fuery was already on his feet, crossing over to them, reaching out to take her hand. “Nothing could make me think less of you. I’m in awe, if anything.”

She blinked at them, as if surprised, and looked over to Mustang, who just smiled at her. Havoc squeezed her hand, and her gaze turned back to him.

“You were hurt, Riza, and we can’t do anything about that,” he said. “But you are loved and cared about and valued for who you are now. We’re your family, Riza, and nothing will change that. Nothing at all.”

She was shaking under their hands, as her face started to crumple. She raised a hand to her eyes as she could no longer contain her tears. But these tears, they had the feel of something cleansing, something good. Havoc reached out, and pulled her close, like he had that night on the roof, and let her cry herself out on him again. When she was finished, she wiped at her eyes. They were red, her cheeks splotchy, her hair a bit messy, but Havoc didn’t care. He didn’t think anyone did.

“Th-thank you,” she said to them, emotion still in her voice. “I… thank you.”

For a moment there was silence, until Mustang softly spoke up. “it’s late,” he said. “And it’s been a long day. Why don’t we all go to bed?”

No one objected, and one at a time they took their turn for the shower. Havoc was toweling off his hair when he passed by Riza’s room. He glanced in, and saw her sitting on the bed by herself, that stuffed yellow rabbit in her hands. Havoc figured that Mustang must be in the shower. He wouldn’t have left her alone otherwise. Still, Havoc didn’t say anything. He knew that Riza was aware of him. But he wasn’t going to push his presence on her. Instead, he stood in the doorway, waiting for her to either acknowledge him or for Mustang to come back. He could be patient either way.

“You know,” she said after a few moments, “I don’t think you know how much your words meant to me.” Her voice was soft in a way that Havoc seldom heard it. “I’m, in general, a confident adult. But there are still things that get to me, or that crop up no matter how many years have passed.” She paused again, her fingers rubbing the ears of that that rabbit. “I often feel like I have to prove myself or earn my place—earn that people care about me. I know I don’t, but I still feel that way. I tried to prove myself to Father all my life. I let him brand me, thinking that it would earn me his love. But nothing was ever good enough.”

She looked up at him. “…you love so easily. And what you and the men said tonight… You saw me weak, at probably my weakest, and yet…” she looked back down at the rabbit. “… it means more then you know, what you all said.”

His heart ached for her, and he walked in sitting beside her on the bed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything either, gathering his words. “You shouldn’t have to earn anyone’s love, Riza,” he said, “but you never have to earn mine. I’m certain that you never have to earn the other guys’ love either.” He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in, giving her a kiss on the head, similar to that night on the roof. “I don’t know if it’s still hard for you to accept or not, but we do love you. Nothing you do will take that away, alright? Nothing in your past, nothing at all.”

She sighed and leaned into him. “I’ll try my best to remember that.”

“We’ll remind you,” he said. “As much as you need it.”

She said nothing, but just stayed leaning against him. Havoc didn’t say anything either, just let them both be. They stayed that way until Mustang came back, and then Havoc left them together. He saw Mustang reaching out to her, and her curling into his arms as he shut the door. Good. They were what each other needed tonight.

Havoc made his way down the hall towards the room he and Breda were sharing, pausing at the stairs. Falman and Fuery were already in their room. Did he hear something? He paused to listen again, but heard nothing, and so shrugged and went on. This place was old and drafty, and Hayate was somewhere down there. He was probably just hearing the dog.

Havoc kept going and entered their room, shutting the door and changing. Breda was already in the bed, although it was clear he wasn’t asleep. Havoc didn’t think anything of it, and so was startled when Breda’s voice, quiet, but intense, broke their silence.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?” Havoc said.

“About… about all of that. What we learned tonight.” Breda said.

Havoc shook his head and sat on the bed. “No. Not at all. I suspected that her father was abusive and neglectful, but I never thought about something like that.”

“Who would have thought about something like that?” Breda spat out.

“Her father, apparently,” Havoc replied.

“Yeah.” They both fell quiet, and then Breda spoke again, his voice full of anger. “How?” he said. “How could he do that? And to his own daughter? Just treat her like—like—like a notepad! Like some sort of journal, he could lock away!” He was struggling not to explode in anger, and Havoc couldn’t really blame him. “She was his daughter! And he took advantage of her, mutilated her for his own good! What did he think was going to happen to her? She’d never be able to do so many things. What if she got married one day? How was she supposed to explain that to her husband?”

“Do you really think he would have just let her get married?” Havoc said. “If he did, it probably would have been just to someone he knew, or maybe even an apprentice, and all it would have been, was an arranged marriage. She’d have been just as used.”

Breda’s jaw worked. “You’re right,” he said. “And none of this is right. I just—” he shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, Hav. This whole thing…”

“Yeah,” Havoc agreed, and sighed heavily. “I think… I think it’s one of those things we’re just going to have to acknowledge and figure out how to deal with. There’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Breda was silent, and then just shook his head, rolling over. “It’s amazing she’s as adjusted as she is,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation for him.

Havoc didn’t push, but he couldn’t help but turn thoughts over in his own head that night as he struggled for sleep.

The next day, when Havoc woke and went downstairs, he wasn’t surprised to find Hawkeye down there already, working on breakfast. She looked at him, a little uncertain, but he just gave her an easy smile. “Hey, Ri,” he said. “What’s for breakfast this morning?”

That seemed to put her at ease, and she turned back to the food. “The usual. Eggs, Bacon, biscuits, coffee.”

“Whatcha need help with?” he asked.

“If you could start on the bacon, that would be helpful,” she replied.

He eased into helping her, starting on the bacon, and when Fuery came down a little bit later he jumped right into helping them out. The more normal they seemed to act, the more at ease Hawkeye seemed to become. Every time someone new came down the stairs, Havoc saw her tense a little, as if she expected something from them. Every time they treated her normally, she seemed to relax a little more. By the time Mustang came down the stairs, she was pretty much at ease.

Breakfast was an easy affair, giving them all time to relax and wake up. It couldn’t last, though, not with everything that needed to be talked about. Havoc glanced around the cleared off table where they were all sitting. Hawkeye and Mustang were sitting on one side, side by side. Breda was across from them, serious. Havoc set beside his best friend, leaning back in his chair even as Fuery and Falman took places at the ends. It was clear that Breda was going to take command of this questioning, even if it was equally as clear that he didn’t want to interrogate Hawkeye or Mustang. The need couldn’t be denied, though, which they all understand from a tactical point of view.

“Alright, first things first,” Breda said, focused on Hawkeye. “I know that you said that Mustang burned off the most important information, but how much can still be gained from your tattoo, if someone got ahold of it?”

Havoc could hear then implied “of you,” in the question, but, just like Breda, he shied away from that thought.

Hawkeye glanced at Mustang, who was the one who answered. Havoc supposed that made sense. Mustang would have more of an alchemic knowledge and was the one to burn the tattoo.

“Depends on the alchemist,” he said. “It would have to be a highly trained alchemist. Most of what I left were either common or things that people have come up with in the past. The part that draws them together into flame alchemy isn’t there.” His eyes met Breda’s staying steady, although the slight movement of his arm told Havoc that he was holding Hawkeye’s hand under the table. “If someone had the information that’s still on Hawkeye’s back, had access to some of the rare books here, and had the time to study it, then they might be able to figure out flame alchemy. However, there would have to be a lot of things come together for someone to understand what I left.”

Breda nodded. “Alright.” His eyes returned to Hawkeye. “The burns. Do they cause you any physical problems?”

Havoc shifted his eyes to Hawkeye. “They can get tight,” she said, “And painful. I have a special lotion I rub into them, but it’s hard to do it myself. The scars are hard to reach due to their positioning. Roy helps me with it sometimes, and occasionally someone else that knows about it does as well.” She paused. “The deepest parts of the burns, near the center, don’t have any feeling. It’s never been a problem before, but it is something to note. And there is a small amount of contracture that happened when the burns healed. I’m slightly less flexible on my left side then I am on my right, although it’s never caused me any real problems.”

Breda nodded. “Alright. One more question. You said that there were others who know. Who? And are they trustworthy?”

“Yes,” Hawkeye said, and there was no hesitation in her voice. “Rebecca Catalina knows,” she said. Havoc found himself surprised, although he supposed that he shouldn’t have been. “She and I were roommates and the academy. She found out then and kept it a secret for me. Maes Hughes knew. He found out on the battlefield. Roy’s aunt knows. She found out when Roy burned me and helped to care for me while I was healing. Dr. Knox knows as well. He helped to provide care after the burning as well as a few times in Ishval.”

They were grisly answers, at least to Havoc’s mind, but Breda just nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Hawkeye.” He paused. “You… will tell Catalina that we know, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Of course. If I didn’t, and she found out that you knew, she’d be likely to shoot you first and ask questions later.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. “Well,” Havoc said, “you’ve got four more people to watch your back now—pun not intended,” he added at Breda’s dirty look. “Anything that we need to know about what we can do for you?”

Hawkeye gave him a grateful smile and paused, turning it over in her mind. “If I’m desperate, I might ask one of you to help put the lotion on my scars. But for the most part, just make sure that my back stays covered up. I don’t want to show this off, I don’t want to hint at it. The few times someone’s managed to catch a glimpse, I’ve been able to brush it off as scars from the war that I don’t want to talk about, but I’d rather not rely on that too much. I don’t want anyone to think there’s anything on my back. So, if something happens to my shirt, please just make sure that my back stays covered.”

She looked around at all of them, and they nodded. Havoc couldn’t speak for the others, but he’d literally take the shirt off of his back for her. The questioning wasn’t over, though, and Havoc could see it in Breda’s face. He braced himself for more questions that he really wished didn’t have to be asked.

“Another pressing question. How did you end up in the basement?” Breda asked.

They all stilled at that question, looking over at Hawkeye, who had her brow furrowed. “I’ll be honest. The panic that followed afterwards has dulled a lot of the memory. What I told you yesterday is still what I remember. I heard something and wondered if it was Havoc or Hayate. The basement door was open, and I went to close it and I was pushed. I tried to get out, but I couldn’t. I tried pushing on the door, and then I went down into the basement to try to find something to help me, but I was already starting to panic by then.” Her brow furrowed as she thought. “I remember that I didn’t see anything that could, but after that everything turns into a haze of panic and distress and memories.” There was a slight note of something in her voice, and Havoc saw Mustang’s other hand come over to hold hers, to provide some stability.

Hawkeye took a couple of breaths, trying to regain control, and Havoc wished there was something that he could do. After a few moments, she looked back up at them, her eyes serious. “This could be wrong, and just my panic playing tricks on me, but… I almost feel like there was someone down there with me. I can’t tell you who it was, or even if it was real, but it might be relevant.”

“Yeah, it might be,” Breda said. He glanced at Falman. “Falman and I went back to look at the lock after you had calmed. Mustang had taken it out of the door and wall with alchemy. The whole mechanism as out and we could see it clearly. It was locked from both sides.”

“Both sides?” Hawkeye said, shocked.

“That explains why I couldn’t get it open,” Mustang said, although his grip tightened on Hawkeye’s hand

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Hawkeye said. “I wouldn’t have locked myself in there, and there’s no other way in or out of the basement.”

Breda leaned forward. “Are you sure, Hawkeye?” he asked. “We got to thinking about it, and there is no outer entrance to your basement. Given the age of the house, there should be.”

“Actually,” Falman said. “Given the era I think that this house was built in, as well as its size and clearly former stateliness, there should not only have been an outer entrance to your basement, but also a fireplace to help funnel heat up and into the rest of the house. I did some looking around, and I think the possibility of it once having been there exists.”

Both Hawkeye and Mustang blinked at Falman in surprise. Then, abruptly, Hawkeye stood up. “Come with me,” she said and, although it was directed at Falman, Havoc found himself curious enough to follow.

He wasn’t the only one, and then all followed her up the backstairs and to the attic. She only stopped to grab a lamp so that they would be able to see. Once there she handed the lamp off to Fuery and began rummaging through things.

“What are you looking for?” Havoc asked her.

“The last time we were up here, do you remember a large cache of papers and documents? Some were in document tubes. We had to look through them for alchemy notes.”

Havoc blinked. “Yeah, I do. I think…” he moved to help her. “I think we put them somewhere over here.”

She nodded, and they started rummaging through things. Finally, after a moment, she came up with a portfolio that had what seemed to be photographs, papers, and other things stuffed into it, as well as a couple of document tubes.

“This,” she said, “is a collection of items about the house. I don’t know if there are any blueprints in here, but titles, deeds, work orders, photographs, and paintings exist in all of this. Apparently, before my father, if not before my grandfather, the Hawkeyes were fairly conscientious about money. I never had any reason to look at these before, but now maybe…”

Falman looked eager to get his hands on the documents “Can we take them downstairs?” he asked. “There’s more room down there. We can go over them down there and see what we can learn.”

“Of course,” Hawkeye said, and Falman reached and took some of the load from her.

“So if there is an entrance down there, how come we never saw it?” Fuery asked, holding the lamp he had been given up so everyone could see.

“It could have been sealed up a long time ago,” Falman offered.

“But then how come we haven’t seen any recent signs of it?” he pressed.

Mustang was rubbing his chin. “I want to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb.” He looked over at Hawkeye. “I also want to start a watch. We’ll start standing guard at night to see if anything happens. Fuery,”

“Yes sir?” Fuery asked.

“Get that phone connected. I want a line of communication open and available, just in case.” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir!” Fuery said.

Mustang glanced at the rest of the men. “As for us—try not to go anywhere alone. Make sure that someone knows where you’re going to be at all times.” He looked at Falman. “Either take someone with you when you go out to do your observations, or make sure someone knows exactly where you’re going to be and when you plan to be back.” He looked at Havoc and Hawkeye. “Make sure that you two are careful when you go out to hunt.” He focused in on Hawkeye. “We don’t know if this was a targeted attack, or if Hawkeye just happened to be in the way, but I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to act as if there’s the chance of an enemy in our midst. I want you all to be careful. Do you understand me?”

There was a collective straightening and saluting, followed by heels snapping together. “Sir!” they all responded.

Havoc knew that he, for one, was going to be watching over Hawkeye carefully.

Orders given, Falman and Hawkeye poured over the items in what they had brought down from the attic, searching for any indication of an outer door to the basement, that the basement had once been bigger, or that there had been a fireplace in the basement at one point. Fuery immediately started the inside work that would be needed for the phone, while Mustang, Breda, and Havoc went down into the basement to start searching.

Havoc was not happy to be back in that basement. Unlike the first time, when Mustang had been squirrelly about him being down there, he instead let him look over anything without complaint. Havoc knew the story of it now, and it made him uncomfortable. He looked at the table, not able to see it or the rings in it the same way now. Knowing that a teenaged Hawkeye had been drugged and strapped down to that table by her father, and then tattooed for hours on end—and it had to have been hours, looking at that tattoo. That was not a one session thing. That took many sessions and lots of hours—it made him feel a little sick. He glanced at Breda, who was looking at the table in a similar way, his jaw set into a grim line.

Still, Mustang was managing to focus in and get to work down here, which couldn’t have been easy for the man, considering the woman he loved had been essentially tortured and branded in this basement. So, if he could do that, then Havoc would manage for Hawkeye as well—Even if he was disgusted by the idea of everything that happened down here and wanted to burn it all down.

“So, what are we looking for, Boss?” Havoc asked, forcing the question out of his mouth.

Mustang didn’t bother to look at him, examining the room instead. “Any signs of alchemy. That’s the only way I can think that someone would have gotten in and out of here so quickly and without leaving any signs. Either that, or there’s a hidden door, but I don’t think that’s as likely.”

Havoc noted, he didn’t say that it was impossible. “Got it. Although it’s going to be hard considering all the alchemy you did down here last time while we were looking for that research.”

Breda glanced at him, startled, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” Mustang said. “But we’ve got to try. Look to see if there’s disrupted patterns to the alchemic marks that were left behind. That might indicate newer alchemy.

“Got it.”

They fell quiet, each man looking over and examining the walls. Havoc honestly wasn’t sure how they would have missed anything as big as a false wall or a hidden door last time, considering the way that Mustang had gone over the walls, but something had happened down here. They had to look.

After a few minutes of silence, Mustang spoke up.

“So… you know Hawkeye’s secret now.” He didn’t even glance at them. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to regret that her father’s not alive so I can punch him in the face,” Breda said rather bluntly. Not that Havoc could blame him. He’d like to punch her father too.

“Since I can’t do that, I suppose I’ll do what I can to support Hawkeye,” Havoc said. “It answered some questions about why she’s so careful about her back and all. I just thought it was some weird modestly thing, but now I get it.” He wished it was just some weird modesty thing, honestly.

“…What would someone do?” Breda asked. “If they found out, I mean. Could they really gain any knowledge from it?”

Mustang paused in his examination. “About flame alchemy itself? No, not without it being intact, not easily. A skilled alchemist could probably figure a great deal of it out. I have no doubt that the Elrics could, if they wanted to, for example. But not every alchemist could get enough information off of it. It’s not slight against his intelligence, but I don’t think that Armstrong could, or even Marcoh. It’s… complicated. Complex. It’s not something easily arrived at, or even easily grasped. For Master Hawkeye to have developed it at all…” Mustang shook his head. “It’s truly amazing. Unfortunately, it’s only in retrospect that I understood why he was so against me having it if I was going to be in the military.”

“What was he like?” Havoc asked. “Her father, I mean.”

Mustang frowned and crouched to look at a spot on the wall. “He was taller than she is, with slightly darker hair that hung in his face. He had a hooked nose, and cold, cold eyes. He was pale from being inside all the time. And he was exacting. Demanding. If you didn’t meet his standards, he was ready to get rid of you. He had little use for people that didn’t meet his standards.”

He paused. “He was a cold man as well. Praise from him was hard-won, and he was not a patient man. The only thing he cared about was alchemy, and there were days where he would focus on nothing else, writing and researching in a mad frenzy.”

He looked up at them from where he had crouched. “If you’re asking how he treated Riza when she was young, harshly is putting it lightly. He never cared when she came with bruises or cuts. He never helped her with her work. He expected that she keep the house in good order and have food ready to go. He expected that she would get high marks in school. Once, when she came home with mediocre marks, he hit her face hard enough to bruise, called her stupid, and told her that if she was going to be too stupid to do alchemy, then she should at least be smart enough to do well with the lesser knowledge they were teaching her in school. She worked herself even harder after that to try to bring her grades up. They came up, but he never praised her, never acknowledged her. The most he did was not hit her.”

Breda cursed under his breath, and Havoc shook his head. “Roy…” he said slowly, falling back on informality, “when we were here last time, you sent Ri out of the upstairs study, and then you burned a piece of paper. You said that there was nothing good to be found there. What was on that piece of paper?”

Mustang’s tensed, his face hardened, and his jaw worked, but after a moment, he finally spoke. “It was a formula,” he said, “for human transmutation. But it used another soul to pay the toll to bring someone back. And it was designed to use a child.”

Havoc’s blood ran cold and Breda dropped what he was doing.

“Wait a minute,” Breda said. “Are you saying—are you saying that her father—”

Mustang’s jaw clenched. “I am. He had a formula worked out for how he would sacrifice his own daughter’s life, her soul, to bring back his wife.”

Both Breda and Havoc looked at Mustang, horror on their faces. Havoc knew what it meant to do a human transmutation. They all knew the costs and the consequences. It was horrible enough on its own. But to use a living person as the toll for someone else’s life, and for that someone to be his own daughter? It was unthinkable.

Breda cursed aloud this time, and Havoc felt his stomach turn. He might just go out the barn after this and smoke, just because he didn’t know how else to react to this information.

“Does she know?” he finally asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No. Or if she does, she’s never said anything. But I refuse to be the one to tell her. For all of the awful things he did, he was still her father, and she was still loyal to him. She still wanted his love, and there’s a part of her that still wishes she had had it, even though she knows what a terrible person he was. I’m not going to destroy the last hope she has by showing her something that proves how worthless she was to him. I can’t do that to her.”

Havoc wished he had something to stick in his mouth. A toothpick, a piece of hay, anything. “Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”

“We won’t say a word,” Breda said.

Mustang just nodded, and they got back to work. But Havoc, for all of his shock, could see the weariness in Mustang’s movements, and the outright anger in Breda’s. He himself was angry, but it was overridden by a deep sorrow. How lonely must little Hawkeye’s life had been, with a father that thought of her as little more then something to be used?

Havoc didn’t have any kids of his own, but he had plenty of nieces and nephews. He loved every single one of them and he’d do anything to protect them. He’d give up his legs again to protect them. He’d have protected them from his wheelchair, if the need had arisen! And they were just his nieces and nephews. An important relationship to be sure, but not as important as parent and child. He couldn’t imagine doing anything to hurt them. How could Hawkeye’s father have been so cruel as to treat his own daughter as a consumable? How could he have only seen her as something to use?

Underneath her hard exterior, Hawkeye had a gentle heart. It was soft, and forgiving, and full of care and love. He could imagine a little Hawkeye with shinning eyes and a big smile running up to her father with all the love in the world for him. With gifts and trinkets and all of the things that kids do. What would she have been like, if he had just loved her in return? If that gentle heart of hers had been allowed to bloom and grow? If it hadn’t been stomped on by her father, by other people, by Ishval? Where would her steely resolve, compassion, and gentle heart have taken her?

How? How could her father have done all of this to her?

Havoc had to get his mind off of all of this, or he’d end up marching straight up the stairs and hugging Hawkeye right now. She wouldn’t like it. She wasn’t normally too opposed to hugs, and he had a bit of a pass, being a pretty close friend and all, but she’d know that this one came from the knowledge of her childhood, and she’d take it as more of an insult then as compassion. She didn’t want to be pitied, and he couldn’t blame her for that. Not when it was obvious that she fought so hard to survive and to make her own path in the world. He wouldn’t take that away from her.

So, instead of going upstairs to make Hawkeye feel upset with him, and with herself, he turned his attention back to the task at hand—namely, looking for any signs of either a hidden door, or of alchemy that would indicate that someone had been through here recently. So far, he wasn’t having any luck, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something that they had overlooked last time.

He knew the signs of alchemy. He’d been alchemist adjacent for so long that by now he ought to have learned something of it. It didn’t mean that he always caught things, or that there weren’t things he just didn’t know to look for, but he wasn’t incompetent. However, he knew that it would honestly be best if Mustang went over the area with a more critical gaze after he finished. He and Breda knew that was what they were here for anyway. They were the first level of search. Mustang would be the next level. It only made sense.

It did make him wonder, though, that, if Hawkeye could stand it down here, if it wouldn’t be better fpr her to help search. She had an above average amount of knowledge. He’d seen her correct the Elrics on simple mistakes before, or act as an intelligent sounding board for them. She had plenty of alchemic knowledge of her own. It all begged another question.

“Say—why isn’t Riza an alchemist?” he asked, still working as he did. “She’s got a good knowledge base for it, right?”

He didn’t turn around or stop, and it sounded like neither of the others did either. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were trying to get through as quickly as possible, or because they were all avoiding emotions.

“She’s got a knowledge base that is well above average,” Mustang said. “She can follow the basics of a lot of high-level alchemy, sometimes more. But except what I taught her, none of that was taught to her. It’s what she’s picked up here and there along the way. It got a lot of gaps and holes in the practical application of it.”

“Yeah, but why?” Havoc pressed. “If all her father cared about was alchemy, I’d think that she’d want to become an alchemist, or that he’d have taught her.”

Mustang was quiet for a moment. “She did,” he said. “I saw her reading alchemy books when she was a child. But it was always in secret and she never, ever, tried. When I asked her why, once, she just shook her head and said that she didn’t have a mind for it.”

There was silence for a moment.

“That’s bullcrap,” Breda said. “Hawkeye is one of the smartest people I know. She could learn it if she wanted too.”

Mustang sighed. “From what I understand, her father did try to teach it to her, once. She was too young to understand most of the concepts, and, when he pushed her to try, she failed. Master Hawkeye wasn’t always very good at explaining things either, especially not when he thought that you should already know or understand something, if its something that, to him, seems simple.” He paused again. “…She won’t talk about it much,” he said quietly, “But I picked up on the idea that when she couldn’t get it, he grew frustrated and beat her.”

Now Havoc did look over at Mustang, and he noticed Breda did too. Mustang was looking back at them. He looked angry, but like it was an old anger that was there, one that he had long ago had to learn to live with.

“How old was she?” Breda asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No more than five or six.”

Havoc sucked in a breath and was suddenly glad that he didn’t have anything between his lips, because he would have inhaled it. Five or six. That was the same age as his niece Libby. Sweet Libby with the braid and the million-watt smile, who loved to hug him around his neck and bring him flowers and play adventures in the tall grass. If her dad every tried to beat her (which he wouldn’t, he was a good man), Havoc would kill him in a heartbeat if it meant saving her. To imagine something like that happening to Hawkeye at the same age filled him with a horrifying sinking feeling.

Breda cursed again, and Mustang turned back to his work.

“It left a lasting impression on her, one I don’t even think she realizes is there, or doesn’t care enough to bother with. I’ve tried to teach her alchemy before, over the years. She has enough knowledge of theory that she could easily do simple transmutations. But there’s a mental block there. No matter what I’ve tried, she can’t do the practical application of it. And I don’t think she really wants to. She’ll try, because I ask her to, but after that? She doesn’t care to. I honestly think she could have been a decent alchemist if it wasn’t for that mental block that was left from her father’s one and only attempt to teach her.”

Breda shook his head again. “That’s… I don’t even have the words for it.” He looked back up towards the ceiling, and then over at the table before quickly looking away from it. “How has she managed to function as well as she does?”

Mustang let out a sigh. “I don’t know. But I do know that what happened to her in her childhood, those experiences allowed her to survive being under Selim’s observation and not able to have a moment to herself.”

“Yeah, but she was so thin by the end of it, and her body exhausted,” Havoc said.

“I know,” Mustang said. “You should have seen her when we first met. She was a thin thing. I always assumed it was because of the lack of food, and the way that she always made sure to give bigger portions to her father and to me than she did to herself. But now I wonder if it also wasn’t the stress of living under her father.”

Havoc shifted uncomfortably. This dive into Hawkeye’s childhood was uncomfortable at the least. It revealed a lot about her, and it explained a lot about her too. But it also felt like prying, and he could see Breda shifting a bit uncomfortably too. The silence stretched on for a while longer, until Mustang let out another sigh.

“Come on. Let’s keep working.”

They worked without finding anything until Falman called down to let them know that supper was ready. They hadn’t quite finished, but they came up anyway, Havoc just then realizing how hungry he was. Hawkeye and Falman still had photographs and paintings spread all over the dining room table, but the kitchen table was free and the other three were in there. Fuery was stirring some pots, and Falman was setting out the plates and cutlery. Riza was tasting something and adding a little more spice to it.

“What’s this?” Mustang said, a bit of teasing in his voice. “And here I thought we were all busy working.”

“We were, sir,” Fuery said, “But I’ve done all the work I can from the inside. I thought I would start dinner.”

“And to be honest, I needed a break,” Hawkeye said. “I didn’t mind helping Kain out.”

Truth be told, Havoc thought that she still did look a little tired, and he couldn’t blame her much for that. Honestly, he was still amazed that she was managing as well as she was—and that she had managed as well as she did the first time they came here. If he had had a past like hers, he would have been more likely to burn the place down then to ever return to it. Something good must have come at some point, though, enough to override the bad. Otherwise, he doubted that she would be here and working as well as she was.

Of course, she had support her with her now. That had to make a difference. She certainly hadn’t had support as a child, and then only Mustang for support when she was a bit older, until he had left. It had to have been hard. Now, though, she had the five of them, plus Hayate. Hopefully it made a difference to her. Still, if she was tired, he found it completely understandable.

Over dinner, the group discussed what they had discovered so far. It was a strike out on all fronts. The only one who had any luck had been Fuery, and that was because he wasn’t searching for anything, just setting up a phone. They returned to their respective tasks after supper, Fuery offering to clean up, but no one had any luck then, either.

However, at lights out, one thing was agreed upon. They needed to set up watches. None of them, Havoc knew, had gotten this far by not being at least a little paranoid—and they had plenty to be paranoid about right now. Alarms and traps were set, and one at a time they took turns taking watch. Havoc roamed the house on his, Hayate accompanying him. It actually worked out well for him, Havoc found, as the walking helped the ache in his legs. Downstairs he could walk as much as he wanted to. Nothing happened on his watch, and after he woke up to walk Falman for his turn, Havoc fell into bed and slept well.

When morning dawned, Havoc was, as usual one of the first ones up. Hawkeye was already awake, but instead of working on breakfast, she was standing in the dinning room, frowning over the document and pictures.

“Mornin’,” Havoc greeted, but frowned at her frown. “What are you looking at?”

“The documents,” she said. “I think they’ve been moved.”

Havoc’s head snapped towards hers. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” she said. “Well need Falman to be able to tell us for sure.”

“Tell us what?” Fuery asked, coming into the dining room with them.

“Hawk thinks some of the documents were disturbed,” Havoc said.

All of the sleep in Fuery was gone at that statement. “What?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “Let’s get breakfast started. When Falman wakes up, we’ll ask him to take a look. It isn’t likely that whoever bothered these is still here this morning.”

“Right,” Havoc said, but his frown didn’t leave. Hawkeye wasn’t typically wrong about things like this. Someone or something had been down here, and Havoc doubted that it was Hayate or rats messing with the documents.

Hawkeye was tense as they prepared breakfast. She seemed especially uncomfortable with the confirmation that someone had been in the house, and Havoc found it understandable. So much of herself had already been revealed to them, even without her permission. He didn’t blame her at all for being a little squirrelly about this situation.

When Falman came down the stairs, he was immediately directed towards the dining room where he confirmed that yes, the documents had been disturbed and, even more concerning, that there were items missing. Breda and Mustang came down the stairs just a moment later, and Havoc could hear Hawkeye telling them what they had found. Mustang ordered them all to eat a quick breakfast, and then start a thorough sweep of the house—with the exception of Falman, who’s job it was to determine what in the documents was missing.

There was no dallying at the breakfast table this morning, and the sweep began with thirty minutes of them all being awake. It was a slow, thorough sweep, starting on the first level and working their way up. Nothing was left unturned or untested. Furniture, rugs, walls, they examined all of them.

Which, honestly, brought Havoc to a question.

“Hey, boss—we looked through every nook and cranny of this place the last time we were here. Don’t you think we’d have found something by now if something was hidden or locked or whatever?”

The last time they were here, Mustang had looked into the walls and the floors to see if they contained any hidden research. They had, of course, turned up blind, with nothing to show, but it was what they had done. If there had been any hidden passages to find, wouldn’t they have found them then?

“If it was added after we left, or was something cleverly hidden, I may not have noticed it,” Mustang said. “I wasn’t focused on looking for secret doors after all. I was focused on any notes her that her father might have left behind.”

“Right,” Havoc said. “Still, if there were something up here, I would have thought that we would have found at least a trace of it.”

Mustang frowned. “Yeah. Me too.”

The search continued with very little found. There were no overt signs of an intruder, although there were little things that none of them had thought about before, like bottles being moved or curtains being opened, that none of them had done, but had happened all the same. All signs pointed to someone being in the house.

The intruder didn’t appear to have been on the second floor or the attic yet, and Mustang made sure that the backstairs to both would be impassible for the time being. It would give them only one way up the stairs to guard, which was useful. Of course, the possibility of alchemy being used to take down what he put up was a consideration, and Hawkeye and Fuery rigged several traps that, quite frankly, Havoc was certain he didn’t want to mess with.

By the time dinner came around that night, they were all tired, but still determined. They resolved to leave nothing downstairs, and then started swapping stories of anything odd or unusual that they had encountered over their stay here. Some, of course, were immediately discounted when someone admitted to moving or doing something themselves. Havoc recalled some odd things that he had seen in the barn that he had attributed to the horses or to other animals escaping from the rains, and Falman reported on a few odd things he had seen outside. By themselves, and without suspicion, they really wouldn’t have been things to worry about. But Mustang’s team was good with suspicion, Havoc knew, as it had saved their own lives more than once, and the lives of the country, too.

And still the rain fell outside.

They all went to bed on high alert, ready to snap awake and to action at the slightest provocation. The days of pouring rain and tense moments felt like they were building up to something to Havoc, although he had no idea what they were building up to. All he knew was that it felt like everything was building up to something big, and something important.

The next few days were met with little change. With the thunder and the rain, there wasn’t much else they could do. Fuery said it was too dangerous to try to hook up the phone in a lightning storm. He was just as likely to get hit and killed then he was to get the phone hooked up, and no one wanted that. Falman still went out and made his observations, checking the garden and the orchard for food. Breda and Mustang resupplied their wood pile and secured the grounds as best they could. Havoc and Hawkeye went out hunting, bringing back what kill they could to sustain them throughout these long and tense days.

The unchanging days, however, provide some opportunities for conversations, whether they were conversations that either party wanted to have or not. Havoc, usually moving about the house to try and help his aching legs, overheard a number of these.

The first one he overheard was between Hawkeye and Breda. They were still taking care of the bulk of the laundry, and Havoc overheard them talking when he was passing through the kitchen one day.

“—not trying to be insensitive, Riza, but I do have a few questions for you.”

Riza sighed. “Go ahead, Heymans. I figured someone would. I should have expected this.”

Havoc could hear the sounds of them continuing to work on the washing while they talked.

“You told us about who had seen your tattoo,” Breda said. “But were there any others?”

Hawkeye sounded a bit confused when she answered. “No. I told you the entire list.”

“That’s it?” Breda pressed. “What about… well… boyfriends and the like?”

There was a beat of silence. “Heymans, there were no boyfriends. When I was living at home, I didn’t dare bring a boy home, even if there was one that would have braved my father’s wrath. My father was a frightening man, and for good reason. And when I joined the academy, boys were the last thing on my mind. It may have been the military, but it was my first taste of freedom and I didn’t want to be tied down by anything or anyone.”

“Right,” Heymans said, and although the answer might have sounded trite to some, Havoc knew better. It was simply him acknowledging her words. “I know that Mustang said that there wasn’t likely to be any alchemist who could learn Flame Alchemy off of your tattoo now, but could they learn anything else?”

Another pause. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “It’s hard to see my back, and I’m no alchemist. But I think that there are still some basic principles that could be gained from it.” She paused. “I wanted the whole thing gone, but he refused. He was probably right, in the end, but I wanted to be freed from this burden all together.”

“Yeah,” Breda said, and there was a note of understanding in his voice. “Alright, you mentioned that there was some contracture. How much and does it impact anything?”

Havoc heard the sound of something being put down, and someone standing up. And then, after a moment, Hawkeye’s voice. “Not much. As you can see, I can reach a little bit further with my right arm then my left arm, but t’s not enough to truly impact anything. So far, the only thing it’s impacted has been a few moments in training, and I compensated for those. I don’t think anyone even noticed.”

“I didn’t,” Breda admitted. “Okay, any other ailments or problems that stem from that tattoo?”

Hawkeye was quiet for a moment, and Havoc could hear her sitting back down and picking up her washing again. “Well, most of the time it isn’t a problem, but if I don’t have my head about me, then it can be. I’m not fond of needles,” she said, and Havoc winced. Yeah, he bet she wasn’t, and he could hear the awkward shifting of Breda as he likely came to the same realization as Havoc. Hawkeye kept going. “If I have my head about me, it’s about a 60/40 chance that the needle is going to bother me. Me reacting to it is an even bigger difference. But if I have some sort of addling or I’ve been unconscious, then do tend to react poorly to needles in general.”

“Yeah… that makes sense,” Breda said, although it was clear to Havoc he was a little disturbed by the notion.

“It does,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard it at all.  “I also have a problem with being held down sometimes. Even with someone I trust, it’s a struggle for me to let most people hold me down. I tend to want to panic and get away from that person or whoever is holding me in place.” She paused. “… Father used ropes, for when I was being unruly, and the idea of being in that position again just does not sit well with me.”

There was a little strain in Breda’s voice when he spoke again, and he had to clear his throat. “Yeah… Yeah that makes sense,” he repeated. “Okay— okay I think that answers most of the questions that I have now. I’m sure there will be more along the way, but for now I have what I came after.”

“If you have any more, ask me, but please just give me a heads up and a few moments first,” Hawkeye requested. “It’s a difficult topic.”

“Of course,” Breda said, and that seemed to be the end of that. Havoc stole away quietly, not wanting to let either of them know he had overheard the conversation.

Of course, that wasn’t the only conversation that Havoc heard between Hawkeye and other members of the team. He happened to be nearby when Hawkeye and Fuery were working in the kitchen, and small talk turned to something more serious.

“You sure are a good cook, Captain!” Fuery said.

Hawkeye laughed. “You don’t have to be formal, Kain. And thank you. I try to make stuff last and use as much of it as possible.”

There was a beat of silence and then “… you know if you ever wanted to talk about it…”

Havoc could almost hear that smile of Hawkeye’s. “Thank you, Kain. I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Fuery replied. “Anytime, s—Riza.”

For a moment they were both silent and then Riza spoke up. “I made a lot of meals on this stove,” she said.

“Yeah?” Fuery said, encouraging her to go on without interrupting her.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye said. “After mother died, father hardly ever came out. I remember that much. I think he would just fix whatever he could find. But as I got older, I learned to cook and started making the meals. After that, the only time father ever cooked anything that I remember, was when I was healing from the tattoo. He would do it in stages, and while I was healing, he would bring me food, water, whatever I needed.”

Fuery was silent, and Hawkeye sighed. “For a little bit, I was able to convince myself that it was love, that he loved me, but in the end it wasn’t. It was just a desire to see his work completed.” She looked down at the pot she was stirring and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder…. If mother had lived, and if father had died…. What would be different?”

Fuery was silent as Hawkeye seemed to turn that over in her mind for a moment, and then shook herself out of it. She moved, almost just to be doing something, and started attending to one of the other pots on the stove.

“The past is the past, though,” she said, “and I can’t change anything about it.” She turned her head to look at Fuery again and Havoc could see her give him a smile that didn’t quite seem to be real. It was a smile of “this is how it is” and not one of happiness, which, personally, Havoc found sad.

Fuery cleared his throat, not entirely sure what to say to that. He put a hand on her shoulder for a moment, and then softly redirected the conversation. “So, um, you learned how to cook when you were young. Did you learn from books or did someone teach you?”

She tilted her head back, thinking. “Well, in a way, both. I remembered things that my mother taught me. I don’t remember her teaching them to me, just thinking ‘this is the way Mama did it’ so I had that to pull on. I also was pretty good at reading from a young age, so I would read books and try my best to understand them. Once I started school, there were some classes there that helped as well. And as I got older, I experimented more.”

“Yeah?” Fuery asked, curious.

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes. We didn’t often have much, so I learned how to make things stretch. I knew a lot of the wild plants that were edible, or that would be once you prepared them, and I learned how to grow a garden. I would hunt, too, and trade my kill for supplies. I managed to trade or sell enough off to get a goat and some chickens, so we at least had milk and eggs, if nothing else.”

“Sounds like you made it, even if you had it pretty hard at time,” Fuery said.

“I suppose so,” Hawkeye commented. “It was certainly a very interesting childhood. I wouldn’t recommend most of it to anyone.”

“Well, regardless, sir, I am glad that I got to know you now,” Fuery said.

This time the smile that she returned seemed truer. “I’m glad, too,” she said. “For being able to meet all of you.”

Havoc somehow felt that statement was more than a little true and kept it to himself for the time being.

He was in the living room, reading a book, when he overheard a conversation she had with Falman. They were in the dining room, looking over the pictures and documents.

“Sir, I hate to ask, but… You spent a lot of time outdoors, correct?” Falman’s voice was his typical straight voice, but there was a note in it that seemed to indicate that he knew he was going to tread on sensitive ground.

“I did,” Hawkeye confirmed. “That’s why I know the grounds so well.”

“Of course,” Falman said. “Well, I just… was it because of your father?” the question almost seemed to blurt out of his mouth, and he looked like he wanted to immediately take it back.

Hawkeye sighed and leaned against the table. “Mostly, yes,” she said. “I liked to stay outside because it meant that I wasn’t in father’s reach. He wasn’t close enough to lash out at me. But at the same time, if I was gone for too long, he wouldn’t be happy about that either.” She frowned. “It was a balance, and one that was difficult to achieve.”

Falman had stopped looking at the papers on the table and was looking at her instead. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Riza fell silent, and just stood there breathing for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “I learned to read his moods, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that,” she said. “He didn’t typically actively seek me out. But if he was angry with me for something, it was best not be around. Or if he had just come out of a research bender. Sometimes it was like he was half crazy then.” Her words almost sounded haunted, and there was a strange look in her eyes that looked like it made Falman uncomfortable. Not that Havoc could blame him, the whole thing was uncomfortable.

“I see,” he said. He looked back at the pictures. “Then I guess that if this entrance does exist, if has to be extremely well hidden.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “If it wasn’t, believe me, I would have used it to escape many things.”

The statement was haunting, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to think too hard on it. Havoc didn’t want to think too hard on it. They turned back to scouring through the papers and pictures and Havoc left them to it.

Of course, Havoc had his own conversation with her. It was bound to happen. His conversation with her happened when he was up on watch one night. He stood at the end of the hall upstairs, looking out the window at the dark and pouring rain beyond. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned to see who it was. Hawkeye padded towards him, her feet bare and a robe wrapped around her. She joined him at the window.

“Can’t sleep?” he said.

Hawkeye shook her head. “No,” she said.

He nodded and took a drag off his cigarette. Hawkeye looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you were getting off of those things,” she said.

“Yeah, well, after the last couple of days, I kinda needed it,” he said. She hummed. There really wasn’t much arguing about that. They were quiet for a few moments, and then Havoc spoke. “He beat you, didn’t he?” he said. “Sometimes he beat you. That’s why you knew how to get to that place on the roof. That’s why you went up there a lot as a child. And it’s why you can read people so well and you get angry at injustice, especially with children.”

Hawkeye had stiffened up, but she didn’t move from where she was. Finally, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet.

He had suspected as much for a while. “How often?” he asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. “They weren’t predictable, not exactly. When he came off a research bender, he was much more likely to be reactionary and hit me for small things. If I wasn’t keeping up with my chores or grades, then he was likely to hit me as well. Most of the time when he hit me, it wasn’t a full beating, just a strike because I’d done something like bother him or didn’t have something ready in time.”

“He called you names, too, didn’t he?” Havoc asked.

Again, Hawkeye stiffly nodded, and Havoc let her speak at her own pace. “Worthless girl was his favorite. So was useless. Part of me wanted to run away, but I was too afraid, I didn’t think I’d be able to survive on my own, and, well… he was still my father. I still wanted his love.”

“Sure,” Havoc said, still puffing on his cigarette. He sighed. “Honestly, Ri, do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

Hawkeye blinked up at him. “What?” she asked, clearly a bit startled.

“I have nieces, you know? Nieces and nephews and I think about some of them. I think about little Libby who loves with her whole heart and has so much fun bringing gifts and playing adventures in the tall grass. She loved climbing all over me and my chair, and I was her knight and her horse in these games. She has such a bright smile and such a gentle heart. And then I think about how your father hurt you, and I just—she’s not even my child, and I can’t imagine hurting her. In fact, if anyone was hurting her, I’d be more likely to kill them. Before or after the chair.”

His frown deepened. “And then I think about my cousin, Ellie, who honestly was more like a little sister to me. She’s 15 and smart as a whip with a sharp tongue to boot. But she’s kind, and eager to please. And I think about what your father did to you, and I just can’t imagine it.”

He reached out then, not able to help it, and hugged her. “Stars, Riza, I’m so sorry that it happened to you. It shouldn’t have. There should have been something or someone to stop it and I just—It had to hurt. It hurt, didn’t it? The tattooing, I mean.”

She was stiff with surprise in his arms for a moment, and then, slowly she relaxed a bit. She was quiet, and then, slowly, her arms curled to hug him back. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “…It did,” she said. “It hurt so much. The painkiller he gave me, my body got used to it, and it stopped being effective. Its why painkillers don’t often work on me. I’ve built up a tolerance. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop, Jean. He just… he kept going and just tied me down so that I wouldn’t move and destroy his work. And it hurt even worse when I finally admitted that he didn’t love me, just his work, and that I was nothing more then a means to an end for him. I—”

Her breath caught, and she let out a shaky sigh. He let her stay there as she fought to regain her composure.

“I can’t imagine it,” he said. “I can’t even begin to imagine all that you’ve been through. I wish that there was something that I could do about it, but there isn’t. But if you need anything—Riza, you know I’m here.”

She nodded and, after a moment, she slowly pulled back. She wiped at her eyes, and they both fell quiet staring out the window for a moment before she murmured a good night and headed back to her room that she was sharing with Mustang.

Havoc had to pass the room they were in on the way back to his own, and in it he could hear them talking. It sounded like Hawkeye was crying, and a bit of guilt stabbed at his heart at the thought that he had made her cry. But then he heard her words.

“—acknowledged my pain. Told me he was sorry that I had been through it, that it wasn’t right for father to have done that to me.”

“But Riza, you know that,” Mustang was saying. “You’ve known it for years.”

“I know,” she said. “But there’s something different in knowing it, and hearing someone who’s outside of the situation say it. Besides… it was different. It was like he was acknowledging ME. Not what happen to me, or that I was a kid and it wasn’t fair, but me, myself and—I don’t know. That means a lot to me.”

He heard a rustling sound, and figured that Mustang was gathering Hawkeye into his arms, or however the books always phrased it. He heard the sound of a kiss, and figured that Mustang was placing one on her head.

“Well, if it made you feel better, then I’m glad for it,” Mustang said. “You deserve so much better, Riza. I wish I could give you the world.”

The words sounded rehearsed, as if they had said them a million times.

“You know I don’t want that,” she said. “But I do want to be by your side through this world.”

It also sounded rehearsed, but neither sounded like something one of them would give out for a play or anything. No, it sounded more like something that two people have said to each other over and over again. It sounded like a way of saying “I love you.”

Havoc stole away then, to his room. His shift was over, and he was going to wake up Breda for his own.

And then he was going to enjoy having an entire bed to himself for a while, because he missed that.

More days passed, still with pouring rain. The thunder let up, though, and Fuery, who had not been about to go rig up anything in the middle of a thunderstorm, felt safer about going out in just the rain. Normally the Master Sergeant wouldn’t have done anything in this weather, but it was what it was, and there really wasn’t any other choice. Havoc could respect that, even if he was questioning the wisdom of it.

Falman, meanwhile, had reconstructed some of the missing work. From what he was able to piece together from both memory and the remaining documents, he was constructing a blueprint of the house to see if there had, indeed, once been more to the basement they there currently seemed to be. He had wondered if the town might have any sort of official record keeping that might lend him a copy of the blueprints or other such thing to help him figure it out. Hawkeye said it was possible, although she didn’t know for sure.

It was when he was taking a break from piecing together a general blueprint, that another startling discovery was made. Breda had been looking through the casefile that they had originally been tasked with when he noticed that something was missing. He had gone immediately to Falman to confirm, and Falman confirmed it. There were pages missing.

“But why those pages?” Falman asked.

Mustang’s jaw was set. “Those pages were specifically on the alchemy that was used at the scenes. It seems our intruder has an interest in alchemy. We need to catch him.”

“But how?” Havoc asked “We’ve not seen him at all. We don’t have a clue where he’s coming from.”

“Not exactly,” Breda said. “We know that he has to have a way in and out of the basement. Otherwise, he couldn’t have locked Hawkeye in there from both sides.”

Hawkeye tensed up, and Havoc found that he couldn’t really blame her for it.

“I need to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb,” Mustang said. “Until then, no one goes anywhere by themselves, understand?”

A chorus of “yes, sir!” rang out, Hayate even barking along with them.

“Breda, Falman, I want you two to go out and search the grounds. Look for anything unusual.”

They both nodded and headed towards the washroom to get their boots and gear up.

“Havoc, you and I are going to go back down there and look over that basement again.”

“Right.” Havoc replied.

“Hawkeye, Fuery, I want the two of you to go over this house. Don’t leave any place undisturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Fuery said

“Understood, sir.” Hawkeye replied, a steely look in her eyes.

“Keep Hayate near you,” he said. “He may be able to sense something before we’re able to.”

“Right,” Hawkeye said.

Mustang hesitated for a moment. “If this someone has an interest in alchemy…”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll be safe,” Hawkeye said. “I’ve got two reliable partners watching my back.”

Mustang nodded. “Right.”

Havoc couldn’t help but notice the tension and worry in both Mustang and Hawkeye as they turned towards their respective tasks, and he met Fuery’s eyes. The younger man looked firm, determined, and Havoc knew that Hawkeye would be safe in his hands.

The rest of the day was spent searching. Hawkeye and Fuery didn’t find much of anything, except some areas that could possibly be used for entry into the house, and they either took care of them themselves, or saved it to tell Mustang later. Havoc and Mustang didn’t have much luck either. The problem with searching for signs of alchemy in a house that had alchemists living in it and had already been looked over once by an alchemist, was that there were signs of alchemy everywhere. It was hard for Mustang to tell if his previous attempts at alchemy had been disturbed or not, much less for Havoc to be able to tell.

The only exciting thing was when Falman and Breda came back, slamming into the kitchen, Breda bellowing for Mustang.

“General! We found something!” Breda called.

Havoc rushed into the kitchen as well, hand hovering over his gun, just in case. When he got there, he saw Breda with a man dressed in a rain jacket, his head turned away from Breda’s yelling. Breda had his arms in a hold, and Falman had his gun trained on the man. The man wasn’t trying to resist.

“Who’s that?” Havoc asked, not quite able to get a good look at the man. He was about average height and weight, seemed to be wearing the same sturdy clothes most country folk wore, although they were muddy and wet, as if he had just come from spending a large amount of time outside. His coat was tan, and Havoc could see bits of brown hair sticking out from under the hood.

“Good question,” Mustang said, striding into the room. “Where did you find him?”

“Skulking around the edge of the woods,” Breda said. “Not sure what he was doing out that way, but he didn’t come quietly with us.”

It was then Havoc noted that all three men seemed to have a lot of mud on them, water soaking into their uniforms.

“What’s going on?” Hawkeye and Fuery entered the kitchen, both of them looking on curiously, although Havoc could see the sharpness in Hawkeye’s eyes, and the very subtle way her body shifted so she would be able to draw her gun more quickly.

“Breda and Falman found this man skulking near the edge of your woods,” Mustang said.

“Who is he?” Hawkeye asked, and that seemed to get the man’s attention.

“Ms. Hawkeye!” he said, and looked up at her, finally revealing his face. “What do you mean ‘who is he?’? Don’t you know?”

Understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes, and she relaxed a bit, although no one else did, Havoc included.

“Bennet Johnson?” she said.

The man nodded rapidly, as if wanting very hard to confirm that was who he was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Well, ma’am, I mean, I was just coming to check on the property. With the rain and all, I thought there might be some problems,” he said. He looked back at Breda. “Was I right?”

Hawkeye waved Breda and Falman off, and as soon as they did, the man was stepping away from them, rubbing his wrists.

Mustang watched her carefully. “You know this man, Captain?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I pay him to keep an eye on the property and do any sort of basic maintenance that the house or grounds need. I come out once a year to check on things myself. But he takes care of it for most of the year.”

“I see,” Mustang said, and, although it was clear that he understood, Havoc could see that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his suspicion. “And do you know him or his family?”

Riza shook her head. “He came to me on recommendation. He’s new to the area and needed work. I was told that he was fairly good with upkeep and repairs and decided to give him a chance. I’ve not been disappointed yet,” she said. She looked back over at the man. “You said you were just coming to check on the house and property?”

Johnson nodded rapidly. “Yes ma’am!”

Breda, who clearly was suspicious stepped a bit closer to Johnson. “Then why did you run?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want any trouble!” he said. I don’t know you or who you are! Your uniforms don’t mean you’re good people! Don’t you know how many former soldiers or deserters there are who still wear parts of their uniforms? I didn’t want to fall prey to one of them! I was going to head back to town and ask some questions! That’s all!”

It was a reasonable excuse, honestly, Havoc thought. The rain was likely to have caused some sort of damage to the house, and if he was responsible for checking the house, then it made sense that he would come to make sure that the house was in good repair. But something about it just didn’t sit right with Havoc.

Mustang nodded at Breda, and Breda backed off a bit. Falman lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away, Havoc noted. Seems Briggs had taught him a thing or two about action and how quickly it needed to be taken at times.

“Have you noticed anything strange around the house lately?” Mustang asked.

“You mean besides a bunch of strange soldiers?” Johnson shot back. He glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed to let out a bit of a sigh.

“Bennett Johnson, this is my commanding officer, General Roy Mustang. These are First Lieutenants Breda, Havoc and Falman, and Master Sergeant Fuery. We were on our way further south on official business when the tracks became too dangerous to travel. Instead, we’ve been forced to stay here. We didn’t mean to surprise you. I should have warned you about it. My apologies.”

Johnson shook his head. “No, no apologies. I heard about what happened in town. Seemed they’re full up and nearly every place that has a place you can stay is full up. I just wanted to make sure that there weren’t any soldiers or civilians who had decided to take advantage of an empty house. I know how particular you are, Ms. Hawkeye.”

“Thank you, Johnson, I appreciate that. But can you please answer the General’s question?” Hawkeye said.

“Oh! Anything strange around the house lately?” He paused to think. “Well, not in particular. Everything seems about the same and seems to be alright. The strangest thing I can think of is that some of the brick on the backside seemed oddly chipped. But there’s a woodpecker about who seems to be pecking on anything but wood, so I just chalked it up to that.”

Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged looks. “Can you show that place to Breda and Falman?” Hawkeye asked him.

“Oh, sure!” he said. “I mean, I did my best to fix it, but I can show them where it was.”

“Thank you,” Hawkeye said. “And thank you for coming to check on the place. Our apologies for attacking you.”  

Johnson shook his head. “It’s alright, Ms. Hawkeye. I get that you were just doing your jobs. Although this isn’t going to be easy to spot.” He turned to look at Breda and Falman. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you right where it is.”

“Alright,” Breda said and motioned for Falman to follow him first. Breda gave Mustang and Hawkeye a look that said he was already calculating something and that he had some words for the two of them later, but he followed Johnson out anyway.

Havoc holstered his gun, but he kept an ear out anyway. Something about this just didn’t settle right with him.

The bricks, it turned out, weren’t really that helpful. He had done his best to close them over, but on the whole, there wasn’t much to be gained from them. Likewise, nothing was turned up anywhere else in the house. By the time that bedtime came around, they were all beat. Showers were quickly gotten, leftovers quickly eaten, and beds quickly taken, except for the man on watch. They were woken up to take their turns at watch at need, and the night stretched on into another dreary cloud filled day of rain, rain, and more rain.

#fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #FMA Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate #fan fiction #fanfic