#i will not be whole until they are back together

[justlemmeadoreyou]

rain-kissed* (footballer!harry x

nerd!y/n)

summary: y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining

words: 6.1k

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a major injury, cursing, kissing, hints of smut, mutual pining.

Y/N groaned as she walked into the lecture hall for her literature class. "Are you kidding me?"

There in the very front row sat Harry Styles - captain of the football team, president of one of the biggest frats on campus, and certified douchebag extraordinaire. His feet were obnoxiously propped up on the desk in front of him as he laughed loudly with his friends. 

"This class is gonna be a nightmare," Y/N muttered, taking a seat as far away from Harry's circle as possible. She couldn't stand arrogant jocks like him.

Class started and the professor cleared her throat loudly, shooting Harry a pointed look until he dropped his feet to the floor with an eye roll. "Alright, since this is an upper-level lit course, we're going to kick things off with a big group project."

A collective groan went through the class. Group projects were the worst, especially when half the group didn't pull their weight. Harry raised his hand lazily.

"What's the project, Millers?"

The prof narrowed her eyes at Harry's casual address but proceeded. "You'll be analyzing the themes and formatting an anthology of poems, plays, and short stories from a particular era or movement. I'll be assigning the groups and topics."

Y/N mentally prepared herself to get stuck doing all the work as usual for her group when Millers started listing off the pairings. 

"Styles and Y/L/N - you'll be covering the Romantic period."

Y/N's head whipped up in horror as Harry scoffed loudly. Of course they'd get partnered up. This was quite literally her worst nightmare.

"Fucking kill me," Harry grumbled, slumping back in his seat rudely.

"I'd rather work alone," Y/N couldn't stop herself from retorting. Immediately, Millers zeroed in on her with a stern look.

"I don't recall there being a choice, Ms. Y/L/N. Unless either of you plans to drop this course, I suggest you learn to work together effectively."

Gritting her teeth, Y/N forced out a tight, "Yes, Professor."

Harry was already texting rapidly on his phone, not paying any attention. This project was going to be utter hell.

The rest of the semester only proved Y/N right about what a nightmare it would be to work with Harry. Their first meeting to divide up the work went about as well as could be expected - which is to say it was a total disaster.

"Look, I don't have a bunch of time for this bullshit poetry stuff," Harry kicked back in a creaky chair, looking entirely too at home in the empty classroom they'd claimed for their work session. "How about you just do the whole thing and I'll, like, proofread it at the end or whatever?"

Y/N stared at him incredulously. "Absolutely not! This is a hugely weighted project, Styles. I'm not doing all the work myself."

He shrugged impatiently. "Why not? You seem like a big ol' nerd who'd be into this."

Biting back a retort, Y/N forced herself to remain calm and reasonable. If he was going to act like a damn child,she had to be the adult in the relationship–or whatever this was.

 "Forget it. We're going to split everything 50/50 whether you like it or not. I'll take the poetry analysis and you can have the plays. We'll swap sections to proofread before compiling the final thing."

Harry made a face like she'd asked him to perform surgery. "Do I have to? Plays are so boring."

"Don't care," Y/N said flatly. "You're pulling your weight on this one way or another."

With a melodramatic huff, Harry finally agreed and they were able to separate the reading materials and due dates before parting ways, both dreading the long weeks ahead.

Except...after trading several heated email chains and a couple disastrous coffee shop meetups, something shifted. Maybe it was the punctuality that struck after virtually living in the library for a week straight. Maybe it was how they both surprised each other by not being complete idiots about the subject matter. But at some point, the bickering and resentful silences turned to a bearable truce and even - dare Y/N think it - a hint of reluctant respect between them.

Y/N had assumed Harry was just another brainless party bro who skated by on his looks and family money. But to her surprise, he actually had intelligent insights into the Romantic poets and playwrights - even if he still whined about having to read "this dramalogy crap." 

And Harry, who had fully expected Y/N to be an uptight, pretentious book nerd, found himself caught off guard by her whip-smart analysis...and her unexpected sarcastic quips that had him stifling laughs more than once during their study sessions. He called her nerd instead of her usual name, but was now slipping back to using Y/n more often.

"Oh my god, you did not just say that about Lord Byron!" Harry snickered as Y/N made another scalding comment about the poet's arrogant womanizing. 

"What? The man was an infamous manwhore by all accounts," Y/N shrugged unapologetically. "Self-important dickhead thought his brooding and philandering made him a genius."

Harry gasped in mock offense. "How very unromantic of you, love! Have you no poetic soul?"

Without missing a beat, Y/N deadpanned, "I prefer to admire poets who didn't give the clap to half of London."

The startled laugh that burst from Harry's lips was so warm and uninhibited that Y/N felt an unexpected little flip in her stomach at the sight. Whoa, what was that?

Shaking it off, she hid her face behind her book again, tamping down an oddly giddy–sort of feeling. Just because she'd managed to find Harry slightly less insufferable lately didn't mean anything.

And so it went, their bickering gradually becoming more lighthearted and playful rather than biting. The weeks ticked by as they somehow formed an unlikely...friendship? Bros? Sure, they'd go with that for simplicity's sake.

At some point, they started expanding their hangouts beyond just study sessions too. Grabbing food after class turned into actually sitting together, Harry regaling Y/N with stories from his frat's latest shenanigans as she pretended not to be entertained. 

On the rare nights Y/N wasn't holed up writing papers, she started joining Harry and his boys at their favorite dive bar, quickly becoming the calm voice of reason trying in vain to talk them out of their next boneheaded plan.

"Come on, PlainJane! Live a little!" Harry teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders at the bar. 

The rowdy group cackled at Harry's horrible attempt at a literary-themed nickname for Y/N, as per tradition when any new face got absorbed into their friend circle. Personally, Y/N thought it was a lame pun, but she secretly loved how easily she'd slotted into their bizarre fratty family...and maybe especially how Harry always seemed to plaster himself to her side whenever they went out.

The camaraderie and effortless banter flowing between them should've been a huge red flag that something was shifting. But Y/N was quite stubbornly oblivious, as was Harry in his own way.

At least, that was until their big group presentation day rolled around. They'd been prepping and quizzing each other for weeks, reviewing notes and analysis essays till they were cross-eyed. Harry had really stepped up, much to Y/N's surprise, retaining way more than she'd expected about the playwrights and their major works.

The whole lit class was spread out in the lecture hall, with bullet-pointed notecards and thick anthologies ready as the first group took the floor. When it was finally Harry and Y/N's turn, they moved to the front in sync, Harry shooting her a subtle wink as he grabbed the microphone first.

"Buckle up, kids - this is how you do a proper literary presentation," he drawled cockily.

Y/N rolled her eyes on reflex, biting her lip and bumping his hip with hers in playful admonishment. "Shut up and just start already."

Neither of them noticed the amused looks being swapped by their classmates at their easy rapport. Or Millers leaning back with a knowing smirk, clearly recognizing the chemistry flying between her formerly antagonistic partners.

For the next hour, Harry and Y/N launched into their meticulously prepared overview of the key figures and works emerging from the Romantic period. Their back-and-forth was flawless yet casual, almost playful at times with little ad-libs and jokes only they were in on.

At one point, Harry lightly mocked Lord Byron's arrogance with a pompous impression that had Y/N doubled over giggling into the mic, barely choking out the next lines through her laughter. When she managed to catch her breath, she shot him a look that was equal parts fond exasperation and...something more heated.

There was a noticeable spark between them that had clearly evolved far beyond the adversarial classmates they'd started as. And if anyone could miss that subtext, it became blindingly obvious at the end when they seamlessly transitioned into their concluding remarks, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"So in summary, while the Romantics may have been a pretentious bunch of melancholic lads-" Harry began.

"-their pioneering works cemented their place as quintessential figures in literary history," Y/N picked up without missing a beat. 

They shared a grin before finishing in unison, "And that's the tea, no cap."

A surprised burst of laughter rang out from their classmates at their cheeky sign-off, even the prof hiding a smile behind her hand. Everyone could see it - the easy chemistry, the almost electric undercurrent between the former rivals.

Everyone, that is, except Harry and Y/N themselves. 

As they moved to return to their seats amid the applause, neither seemed to register the weighted looks and muffled whispers following them. Harry just ducked his head with an almost bashful smile, still riding the high of how flawlessly they'd worked together. While Y/N felt her cheeks flushing under the weight of what she convinced herself was just residual adrenaline.

In the weeks after their wildly successful presentation, that same strain of electrifying connection only grew stronger between them. You'd never know they'd spent the first half of the semester low-key loathing each other based on their current vibe.

Now, when Harry's frat brothers tried to rib him about his "study buddy" at their typical dive bar hangout, he just threw an arm around Y/N's shoulders and proudly declared, "More like my brain twin!"

Y/N would just duck her head with a bashful grin, pointedly ignoring how her heart did a little somersault at both the affectionate nickname and Harry's easy touch.

Or like when they sprawled out on the quad between classes, passing a bag of chips back and forth as Harry ranted about his coach riding his ass over the big rivalry game next week. Without even thinking about it, Y/N would reach out to squeeze his knee consolingly as he huffed out his frustrations. It was such a simple, natural gesture between them now that she didn't even register the slightly stunned look Harry shot her before clearing his throat gruffly.

Even their friends couldn't resist commenting on their respective obliviousness at this point.

"Bruh, Y/N literally lets you call her 'love' without punching you in the dick," Niall pointed out bluntly one night when Harry claimed, once again, he and Y/N were "just friends." His Irish buddy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Pretty sure she wants to ride your lancer if you know what I mean."

Harry smacked him hard while trying not to get flustered. "Shut the fuck up, asshole."

While on Y/N's end...

"Sooooo, when are you gonna admit you have a huge crush on Styles?" Her friend Riley asked point blank over brunch, making Y/N nearly choke on her mimosa.

"What? No I don't!" She insisted a little too quickly, refusing to meet Riley's all-knowing gaze. "We're just...really good friends."

Riley hummed disbelievingly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest further before clamping it shut as her mind started helplessly rehashing all her favourite little moments with Harry over the past few weeks. His warm, anthracite eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at her jokes. The proud grin he'd get whenever she successfully understood something he'd tried explaining. The way she felt this inexplicable magnetic pull to stay pressed into his side for as long as possible whenever they hung out...

"Oh my god," she breathed out, smile slipping as the enormity of her revelation dawned. "I'm in love with Harry fucking Styles."

That's not to say the smitten epiphany immediately changed anything between the two. Well, maybe it made their lingering hugs and casual touches go on for a few beats too long. Or had them both shyly stealing glances when the other's back was turned.

***

Mostly though, they just continued their cozy, obliviously pining routine of late night FaceTimes and weekends holed up studying together for finals. All while Harry's team prepared for their annual football rivalry game - the biggest matchup of the season that would make or break their championship chances.

The night before the game, Y/N found herself inexplicably anxious as she sat in the stands amid a drunk, raucous crowd. Harry kept shooting cheesy grins and double finger-gunged winks her way whenever he trotted past her section, clearly buzzed on adrenaline.

"Go get 'em, superstar!" She shouted at one point, laughing as Harry blew her an obnoxious kiss before getting back in the huddle.

The energy in the stadium was electric and infectious, Y/N finding herself caught up in the cheers and chants despite not being a huge football fan normally. Something about watching her...Harry out there gave her swirling butterflies low in her belly though.

As the intense game raged on, Y/N was on the edge of her seat, nails digging into her palms whenever Harry took a brutal hit or made a heart-stoppingly risky play. At one point he got absolutely leveled by a linebacker twice his size, his helmet bouncing sickeningly off the turf.The roar of the crowd faded into the background as Y/N watched in horror as Harry's body slammed violently into the turf. She felt her heart stop as he didn't immediately get back up after the brutal hit.

"Harry!" she screamed, her voice drowned out by the gasps of the other spectators. 

The medical team rushed out onto the field as Harry lay unmoving. Y/N's hands shook with fear as she watched them carefully roll him onto a backboard and load him into the ambulance. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally received word that Harry was going to be okay. The doctors said he had suffered a severe concussion and possible spinal injury from the whiplash of the hit. He would need weeks of rest and recovery.

Y/N rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. When she entered his room, her heart broke at the sight of Harry's battered body hooked up to various machines, a cervical collar immobilizing his neck.

"Harry..." she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers. "I'm so sorry."

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? You're here..."

"Of course I'm here, you idiot," she tried to joke, blinking back more tears. "I was so worried about you."

A small smile tugged at his bruised lips. "I'll be okay, love. Harry is a thick skull, remember?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning at his terrible joke. "Don't scare me like that again, Styles. I don't know what I'd do without you."

A look of tenderness crossed Harry's face that made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. But before either could say anything further, the doctor entered to check on Harry's condition.

***

Over the next week, Y/N diligently stayed by Harry's side in the hospital. She helped feed him, kept him company, and supported him through the difficult early recovery stages. Harry quickly grew restless being cooped up, but every time he tried to get out of bed against doctor's orders, Y/N was there to scold him.

"You heard what the doctor said, Harry. You need to rest and let your body heal properly," she chastised him one day as he tried to get up.

Harry groaned in frustration. "But I'm going stir crazy in this damn bed! I feel fine, Y/N, honestly."

"No, you don't," Y/N said firmly. "You could have had a serious spinal injury. You're lucky it wasn't worse. Now lie back down before I get the nurses to strap you in."

Grumbling, Harry reluctantly complied, though he continued to hate being so confined and immobile. Little did Y/N know, he was already hatching a plan.

A few days later, Y/N arrived at the hospital only to find Harry's bed empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to the nurses' station in a panic.

"Where is he? Where's Harry Styles?" she demanded.

The nurse gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he checked himself out against medical advice earlier today."

"What? No, he can't have!" Y/N cried. She knew immediately where he would have gone.

Sure enough, when she ran across campus to the football practice field, she found Harry standing on the sidelines in his gear, acting as if nothing had happened. White hot fury blazed through her veins.

"Harry!" she yelled, storming toward him as the first raindrops began to fall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry turned with a cocky grin as he saw her approach. "There's my favourite nerd. What's got your panties in a twist, love?"

"You insufferable asshole!" Y/N exploded, not caring that they had an audience of his confused teammates. "The doctor said you needed weeks of rest and recovery! You could have permanently injured your spine!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe, I feel great. Probably just overreacted with that whole backboard and neck brace nonsense."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Y/N seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides. Rain began pouring down around them, quickly soaking them both, but she didn't care. "You're incredible, you know that? You have zero self-preservation! No regard for your own safety and well-being!"

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Harry scoffed, though his casual demeanor faltered slightly under her furious glare.

"Dramatic? You could've been paralyzed, Harry! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Her voice broke with frustrated tears. "Don't you understand how terrified I was watching you lying there, not moving? I thought...I thought I might lose you."

Something flickered across Harry's features then. His cavalier mask slipped for just a moment, allowing a flash of guilt and tenderness to shine through that sent Y/N's heart lurching treacherously. Then it was gone, the wall snapping back into place.

"Well, I'm right as rain now, so you can quit your worrying," he said gruffly, turning his back on her.

That was the final straw for Y/N. She grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, not caring that they were getting drenched by the downpour.

"You're so fucking reckless with yourself, Harry! Like you have zero self-preservation or even an ounce of common sense! Do you have any idea how scary that was to see you lying there, not moving? How I thought..." Her voice hitched, throat growing too tight to continue as burning tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Through the rapidly blurring vision, Y/N registered Harry staring, chest heaving like she'd actually winded him with her outburst. His hands hung frozen at his sides, knuckles going white as he watched her come completely unraveled. And still she wasn't finished.

"You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that! Pulling stupid fucking stunts and flipping off your own safety like it doesn't matter! Because it does, Harry. It matters so much to...to me," she finished in a thick whisper, finally allowing a tear to escape and streak down her flushed cheek.  

A weighted silence stretched between them, Y/N struggling to regain her ragged breathing as Harry continued gaping at her, utterly shocked by her reaction. Waves of tension rippled through the small space separating them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Harry seemed to recalibrate. His expression went utterly blank for a beat before, out of nowhere, his eyes hardened into flashing jade. When he spoke, his tone was laced with a chilling detachment.  

"Why?"

Y/N blinked owlishly. "W-What?"

"Why the fuck do you care so much, huh?" Harry exploded, eyes flashing as he aimed his scathing hostility directly at Y/N. "Last I checked, I'm not your boyfriend or your family. I'm just some dumb jock you study with, right?"

Y/N flinched at the biting sarcasm, feeling tears prick her eyes anew at his harsh dismissal. But Harry was on a roll, fists clenching and unclenching as he visibly wrestled with...what? Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, but his next words sliced deep regardless.

"So why do you get to flip out and pass judgment every time I take a hit, huh? You think I don't know how to handle myself out on that field?"

"That's not what I-"

"No, clearly you don't think I have any sense of self-preservation or whatever psychobabble bullshit diagnosis you want to armchair next!" Harry barreled over her attempted protest, voice rising in a sharp crescendo. 

He took a menacing step closer, using his full height to loom over her in a move that likely would've been intimidating...if his eyes didn't look so pained and conflicted behind that mask of bitter anger. "Tell me, Y/N - what gives you the right to freak out like that, huh? To look at me with those scared eyes like you have any claim over whether I live or die or-"

"Because I love you, dammit!" The confession exploded from Y/N with the force of a meteor strike.

A stunned silence fell over the field as Harry gaped at her, mouth hanging open in shock. Even the rain seemed to pause in the heavy tension between them.

After several moments where Y/N felt her panic rising, Harry finally found his voice again. "You...you what?"

Y/N took a shuddering breath, bracing herself. She had come too far to back down now.  

"I love you, Harry," she repeated, slower and more sure this time. "I have for a long time, you idiot. But you're always so reckless and careless 'bout your own safety. You take stupid risks and shrug it off like getting hurt is no big deal!"

She stepped closer, feeling tears mingling with the raindrops on her cheeks. "Don't you understand? The thought of you being seriously injured, or worse...it terrifies me. Because I couldn't handle losing you. You mean everything to me."

Harry continued staring at her, eyes blown wide and lips parted as if her confession had utterly short-circuited his brain. Y/N pressed on, needing to finally unleash all the feelings she had kept bottled up for far too long.

"I love your stupid jokes and your kind heart. I love how passionate you are about football, even if it drives me mental sometimes. I love the way you always smell like sandalwood and make me feel so safe when I'm with you. I'm in love with every obnoxious, laddish, reckless part of you and I can't keep ignoring it anymore."

She let out a wet chuckle, wiping futilely at her drenched face, her hands still shaking. "So yeah, that's why I care, you absolute wanker. That's why seeing you get hurt destroys me every single time, because the thought of being in a world without Harry Styles in it is just too much for me to bear!"

The words hung heavy in the rain-soaked air between them. Y/N watched Harry open and close his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find a response. For once, his swagger and cockiness had completely deserted him as her feelings poured over him in an unstoppable tide.

Just when the silence was becoming too much for Y/N to bear, Harry finally seemed to find his voice again.

"You...you love me?" he rasped out, the disbelief and wonder evident in his tone. "Like, you're in love with me?"

Y/N felt her cheeks flush hot despite the cold rain. She gave a small nod, unable to meet his intense gaze. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her ears, she barely registered the shouts and hoots coming from Harry's teammates who had witnessed the whole emotional outburst.

"Shut it, you wankers!" Harry barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

In two long strides, he closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Harry reached up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward his.

"Y/N..." he murmured, emerald eyes searching hers intently. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch despite herself. "And ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't risk that, Harry. You mean too much to me."

Something blazing and tender flickered across Harry's face at her confession. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until their foreheads were resting together. Y/N shivered at the intimate proximity, at the way his familiar woodsy scent surrounded her completely.

"You daft woman," he murmured, the words fanning warmly across her lips and making her shiver for an entirely different reason. "Don't you know there's nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend? To be able to love you the way you deserve?"

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at that, her heart feeling fit to burst from her chest. She had spent so long forcing herself not to hope, not to read into the heated glances and lingering touches she shared with Harry. Could he truly feel the same earth-shattering connection she did?

Her eyes blinked open again at the feeling of Harry's calloused thumb brushing reverently across her rain-soaked cheek. He was staring at her with such naked adoration and longing that it stole the breath from her lungs.

"I'm so bloody gone for you, Y/N," he confessed roughly. "Have been for ages now, if I'm being honest. Thought maybe I was imagining things between us or reading too much into it since I couldn't fathom someone as incredible as you wanting a mug like me."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to reassure him that she wanted every infuriatingly charming part of him, but Harry pressed on before she could get the words out.

"Then today, hearing how scared you were when I got laid out...how you thought you could lose me?" He shook his head slowly, curls dripping rivulets of rainwater down the sharp planes of his face and throat. "Don't know how I didn't see it before, love. The way you care about me, put up with all my shite...it's because you love me. Isn't it?"

It wasn't really a question, more like Harry was testing the words out for the first time and savoring the way they sounded. A thrill went through Y/N at getting to be the one to put that Look of rare, hushed awe on his handsome face for once.

"Yes, Harry," she answered anyway, both hands coming up to cradle his beloved face. "I'm desperately in love with you. The good, the bad, the reckless...all of it."

A crinkly-eyed grin stretched across Harry's lips then, brighter and more vibrant than Y/N had ever seen before. He wasted no more time closing that minuscule distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Y/N gasped against his lips as the dam finally broke, months of too-long denied want and need bubbling over in heated waves. Harry's hands slid into her soaked hair, angling her head to deepen the embrace as he licked hungrily into her mouth. Y/N clung to him just as fiercely, fingernails scraping against his scalp and shoulders as if trying to physically pull him closer.

They were both panting harshly by the time they wrenched apart, sharing the same air in the infinitesimal space between their swollen mouths. Y/N felt drugged by the glazed, predatory darkness swimming in Harry's blown pupils,by the intimate glide of their rain-drenched bodies.

"Fucking finally," he growled against her lips before diving back in, one large hand splaying possessively across the small of her back.

Y/N hummed in ardent agreement, getting lost in his dizzying taste and scent and touch once more.  It felt like a cosmic star had been reborn between them, the force of their crashing inevitability obliterating all the hurt and confusion from before.

Neither was sure how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, drugging kisses amongst the pouring rain. But eventually, Harry pulled away just enough to nose his way along Y/N's jaw, lips dragging hotly up to her ear.

"Let's get out of this downpour, hmm?" he husked, teeth grazing her shell and making her shudder. "Got some making up to do for being such a blind tosser."

Y/N pulled back just enough to catch the incandescent fire blazing in his darkened gaze. Her breath hitched at the onceiled promise flickering there, at the tips of his wicked fingers already slipping beneath the drenched hem of her top.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who had been harboring some pent-up longing and hunger.

Still, there was one loose end she couldn't resist tugging before allowing Harry to whisk them away...  "Does this mean you're finally going to start taking better care of yourself?" she asked archly, arching one pointed brow. "No more stupid, reckless stunts for my idiotically brave footballer?"

Harry audibly groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically against her clavicle as his hands flexed with bruising force against her hips.

"Whatever you want, love," he conceded gruffly. "No more injuries or shite, I swear it. Now can we please get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself further by ravishing you in the mud right in front of my teammates?"

Y/N gave a squeak of surprise as Harry abruptly ducked to gather her up in his arms, hitching her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. He sealed his wicked promise with another lingering, molten kiss that left her head spinning.

"Now, where were we..." he growled darkly before striding determinedly off the field, Y/N clinging just as fiercely in his embrace.

The teammates' raucous catcalls and laughter faded into the rainy background as Y/N tucked her face into the curve of Harry's neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood and smoke and the feeling of being wrapped in his arms at last.

She was never letting him go again. Not if she had any say in it.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[voyeurmunson]

18+ hoes (just smut. I didn’t mean for it to be this long. Oops.)

Just thinking about Eddie cleaning up after a game of dnd. You’re plopped down in his throne watching him collect the pieces, placing them carefully in the box.

You scoot back in the chair, lifting your skirt a little higher as you do just waiting to catch his eye.

You listen as he hums to himself, watching his brown curls bounce as he moves around the large table. He’s so pretty. He always is but especially in this dim lighting, the candlelight flickering in his brown eyes every few seconds. The whole thing an attempt to have a more theatrical atmosphere was quickly turning into setting the mood for the two of you.

You keep your eyes on him, watching his every move. Your eyes land on his hands. Metal rings adorning almost every finger. Fuck, those fingers. The thought of them inside of you makes you throb. Your mind being taken back to last night. His fingers deep in your cunt, the sounds of your slick loud as he fucked into you roughly. “Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart.” he groaned, curling his fingers with precision. “More, Eddie. P-please.” you had screamed making him grin as he worked in a fourth finger.

“Baby?” Eddie snaps in your face, shaking you from your little trip down memory lane. Your legs are crossed, thighs clenched together tightly as Eddie’s eyes roam your body slowly.

“Fuck, you look good in there.” he breathes, trailing his fingers down the side of the chair before hovering over you. He leans in, lips meeting your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he kisses it gently.

“My queen.” he hums, his warm lips working lower, long wet kisses down your neck. His calloused fingers work their way up your thigh, his breath hitching as he reaches your pussy.

“You little slut.” he chuckles deeply as he realizes you’ve got nothing on beneath your skirt, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Mmm.. just for you, dungeon master.” you giggle playfully as he grins up at you.

His eyes darken suddenly as he pushes your skirt up above your hips roughly. “Such a pretty pussy.” Eddie rasps as his arms wrap around your waist, swiftly pulling you toward the edge of the seat.

He starts kissing you again, his lips coming halfway up your thigh, your skin so soft, bruising easily as he nips and sucks. Eddie loves the noises you make as he gets closer and closer to the top of your legs. One of his firm hands squeeze your upper thigh hard, pulling a moan from your lips that makes his cock strain against his jeans.

He lets out a low moan as he sees exactly how wet you are. “Always so ready for me, baby.” He smiles, deciding to tease you even more. He brings one hand up to your pussy, sliding a thick finger down your slit.

"You're so wet, princess. Gonna have to clean you up, yeah?” he teases with a smirk, his finger lightly tracing over your wet lips.

"Please.” you beg as Eddie moves his middle finger between your slick folds, just barely into your dripping hole.

He ignores your plea, removing his finger instead, sliding it up higher until it brushes your clit, making your body shudder.

"Please what, sweet girl? You don’t like the way I touch you?” Eddie taunts, his pretty lips curled into a slick smile.

"I- I do, Eds. But please… please don’t-” your brain can’t focus on the words as his finger continues teasing your sensitive little clit. Not enough to get you there, just enough to drive you crazy. You huff in frustration as you lift your hips, aiming to make contact with his fingers again.

Eddie slaps your pussy roughly making your head fall back into the hard wood of the throne as a sinful moan falls from your lips. “Words, sweetheart. You want me to stop?"

"No, fuck no. Don’t tease me, Eddie. Please. Need you.”

"What do you want me to do to you baby? Tell me."

"Just- fuck Eddie stop being a tease." you whine, looking down at him once again.

He chuckles then, sending vibrations through your core, making you even more wet. "Want me to eat that pussy, baby? Suck on your clit, while I fuck you with my fingers?"

"Yes. Fuck. Please Eddie. Need your fingers. Your mouth. Fuck me." you blurt out, not caring how pathetic you sound.

He licks his lips once, wetting them before he’s spreading your knees farther apart. He kisses your pussy. Small kisses at first. Teasing you further until you grip his chocolate curls, almost yanking them as you press him deeper into you. He picks up his tempo, sloppy wet kisses, moaning into you as he practically makes out with your pretty pussy.

"Oh fuck, j-just like that baby.” you chuckle breathlessly, keeping your eyes on him, finally getting the attention your pussy was aching for.

You bring your ankles around his shoulders, pulling him in even closer as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your ass. His long tongue dips in between your soaked folds, licking a long stripe from your hole back up to your clit. Sliding his tongue all around your pussy, tasting you, exploring every part before landing back on your entrance.

“You’re fucking leaking for me, pretty girl.” Eddie groans, his cock twitching, seeing you so wet for him only making him more feral.

He shoves his tongue in your pussy then, slowly pulling it out, making you gasp as he works it back inside, swirling it all around, coating his tongue with your sweetness.

Your eyes flutter shut uncontrollably as he continues tongue fucking you until you’re squirming around, almost slipping out of the chair causing Eddie’s fingers to cling to your hips, holding you in place. A grip so tight there were sure to be marks left behind.

“Eddie, Eddie please. Want more.” You breathe, a needy moan escaping as his tongue works back up to your clit, two fingers suddenly being pushed inside you, pumping roughly in and out of your tight pussy.

“Yes! Fuck!” you squeal as you take a tighter hold on his brown locks, bucking your hips, practically riding his fingers as he locks onto your clit, sucking roughly. You force your eyes open long enough to see Eddie’s brown ones watching you carefully, his plump lips still wrapped around your puffy clit, his free hand palming his cock through his jeans.

“Y-you look so pretty on your knees for me.” you purr, the unsuspected dominance surprising both you and Eddie, making his eyes roll into his head as his hand continues working in and out, slipping in a third finger as he fucks your drenched pussy with even more eagerness.

“You like that?” you test, your chest rising and falling rapidly as he brings you closer and closer. Eddie nods quickly, your clit still locked between his lips, his brown eyes looking up at you like a lost puppy.

“Feels so good, baby. Don’t fuckin’ stop. Wanna be a good boy and make me cum?” you push even further, Eddie loving every second of it, moaning loudly into your pussy. He pops off your clit, his lips glistening with your arousal.

“Yes. Anything for you. Fuck.” he pants breathlessly, his fingers driving into you at an insane pace, your back arching as you feel your body going higher and higher.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.” you barely manage to choke out before you lose control, your pussy clenching around his fingers, soaking his hand completely.

“Fuck yes. Cum for me, princess. Look so pretty when you cum.” Eddie praises before his face is back between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your clit again, sending even more pleasure throughout your body as you jerk against him, riding out every second of your orgasm.

Eddie slowly removes his fingers, replacing them with his tongue as he cleans you up, your body shivering with every soft lick of his warm tongue.

Your thighs squeeze around his head as he dips his tongue inside one last time, drawing out every bit of your cum that he could.

He stands up kissing you roughly, making you taste yourself all over his tongue before he brings his fingers to your lips, slipping them into your mouth. You meet his eyes as you slowly suck them clean.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” Eddie mumbles drunkenly as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. You push him off of you lightly, standing up from the chair before shoving him down in your place. You can see the outline of his hard cock making you bite your lip as you drop to your knees, reaching for his belt buckle.

“Let me show you how obsessed I am with you, Eddie.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson blurb

[celestie0]

childhood friends to lovers with gojo.

warnings/tags. fluff & angst, sad ending

you two were five when he kisses ur cheek on the playground underneath the slide n you both thought that counted as a first kiss. u two were attached by the hip all throughout elementary school, i mean srs, your parents would even have joint parent teacher conferences bc there was just nothing the two of you wouldn't do together.

and then middle school came around, you joined the marching band n he joined the football team. he starts acting different around you, and it hurts. bc you two were best friends. you were always supposed to be best friends. he starts hanging out w the popular kids, and you find yourself walking home alone. summer before high school, he wants to hang out again, but you tell him you deserve better than that. and you two drift apart.

it's hard starting high school without him, watching him from afar during lunch in the cafeteria. he's with his table of phonies, acting like someone he's not, and you know because you've always known him. better than anyone else. you really wanna join the cheer team, since you've done gymnastics for a long time, but you've always been too afraid to tryout for the team. this time, you do, and you get in. now all of a sudden he wants to talk to you again, now that you're popular in high school and have earned a place on the field during his games. fuck that, you say to him, you threw away what we had just because i wasn't good enough for you to have by your side. you start dating his teammate, you two are nominated for prom queen & king, and he has to watch as you kiss someone else on stage when you win. someone that should've been him. he starts dating the cheer captain, just to show it off when he comes running to her after a winning game, kissing her right in front of you but he's not looking at her, he's looking at you. to make sure you're watching. and you do the same thing to him. and the whole time you two are wondering what are we doing to one another?

summer after high school, he shows up to your doorstep one day on his skateboard. with a box full of all the letters you used to send him as a kid. you still have yours too, somewhere tucked underneath your bed. you spend the whole afternoon laughing with him as you read through them all, laying on the carpet of your living room, and you both feel like kids again. he hovers over you when he kisses you, but you're still mad at him, and to show him how mad you are, you kiss him back. it's no use, you two are going to different colleges, you'll hardly see him, but he swears he's call. he swears he'll fly to see you. he swears he'll never makes the same mistakes again, because he wants you. and only you. you kiss his cheek, and say okay.

and he does. he does everything he promises you. but the distance is too hard, and he was a little too late. you break up with him over a twenty-one character text sent while you're drunk at a house party your second semester at university, and he just doesn't understand. he'll never understand. and he never sees you again.

until you're both thirty-two, standing in line at the grocery store. he taps your shoulder, you turn around, you wonder if it's a stranger who wants a favor, and you realize he's so much more than that. he's the little boy that kissed your cheek underneath the slide when you were five. your first kiss. except it wasn't, was it? his face is long, and his cheeks have lost plush, but he looks so handsome it makes your heart skip a beat. you two are pleasant, exchanging it's been so long! and you look great! but when his eyes catch the twinkle of the wedding ring on your finger, his smile drops ever so slightly, and when he scratches his cheek to hide the sadness, you notice a band on his finger too. and he pays for your groceries, just to be kind. and you thank him for it, just to be kind. and you go your separate ways, never to speak again. but there's a box that still sits somewhere in your closet. and a similar one still sits in his too.

#sorry idk why tf this got sad all of a sudden #this was just supposed to be fluffy #lfmaooo?? #help #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen #so heavily inspired by many ts songs w this one loool

[chaldeanu]

golden tongue ノ imaginary men

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.2k ノ gn reader — sloppy bj ノ oral . character receiving ノ petname — baby ノ rewritten thirsts . added aventurine <3

aventurine ノ

with a broken chuckle and bitten lips, he gazes down at you, the hypnotic look of his magenta cyan eyes filled with love and lust. he’s all wound up tight, his nerves buzzing with desire as he feels the wetness of your tongue sliding along the shaft. savouring the taste of him and fluttering your lashes at the sight of the disarmed man above you, you moan against the slippery girth to let him know you enjoy it just the same.

you always liked the sound he makes when you wrap your mouth on his length. a deep rumble at the back of his throat. he trembles when you pull him closer and suck the sensitive tip. you drag your tongue over it, taking care to trace every curve and vein, enjoying the smoothness and saltiness of his skin.

when you stroke your palms against his inner thighs, you feel him twitch in response. his knees shake, his legs trembling as you reach down to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your hand while he fucks your mouth. his palm sinks into your hair, the neatly trimmed nails tickling your scalp, as he leans over, guiding your motions to match his rhythm.

“you’re a real gem, aren’t you, baby?” sweet nothings, laced with the tone of his voice, so affectionate and soothing. “can’t believe i’m this lucky to have you… choking on my cock, heh…”

you know he won’t last long — every breath shudders when it hits the air. the gentle pulsating of his erection tells you more than enough. his thrusts stutter and turn desperate, chasing pleasure, the grip of his hand on your skull turning desperate. purring with contentment while you suck harder, hearing him groan above you and seeing the veins in his forearms as he tries to keep a steady pace.

dan heng imbibitor lunae ノ

the delicate scales feel odd and intriguing under your tongue as you press a long lick from the very base up to the tip of his flushed length, feeling it twitch slightly against your mouth. he lets out a shaky moan, his hips moving in minuscule thrusts upwards to meet your lips, and you can tell he wants to push it inside so badly.

instead, you give him a teasing smile, looking up at burning face with half-lidded eyes. oh so sweet and innocent… how could he expect anything from you? and let the tip nudge past your mouth ever so slightly as a small reward. when his clawed hand settles on top of your head, tugging impatiently on your locks, you suck gently just on the very end and swirl your tongue over the sensitive frenulum, causing him to shudder and tighten his grip. but you won’t budge, won’t let him have more than this until he pleads for it.

until his resolve shatters.

“please,” he stutters out with a beautiful voice, his request like a song in your ears.

and how could you possibly refuse?

you swallow him whole, letting him hit the back of your throat while you suck hard. his claws clench hard at your locks, pulling and tugging to the point of near pain. he whines, his ghostly tail reappearing underneath you and slightly shuddering from the pleasure.

dr. ratio ノ

your lips wrap around the dark pink tip of his cock, glistening strands of precum and your saliva mingled together as you swirl your tongue. the sight fascinated him, his head lowered and eyes shiny as he keeps watching you please him. you pump the rest of his erection that couldn’t fit in your mouth; the wetness making it easy for you to glide your hands along his base.

“if you could only listen to my lectures with the same attention, you’re giving me right now…”

you moan into his crotch at his words; the vibrations enhancing the experience, his breath hitching every time he looks down. his hand comes up to pet your head, and you smile against him, enjoying his praise.

“you learn fast… i should simply enjoy your progress…”

he pulls you a little lower, hoping his girth will sink further down your wet mouth. the cockhead kisses the back of it, and you swallow beads of precum, sending him into another wave of pleasure. his fingers tangle in your hair as he slowly fucks your face, his movements so careful and precise, and yet still managing to hit deeper into your throat.

“you’re quite amazing, this i admit.”

luocha ノ

the taste of him is exquisite, you think. it’s something rich, and earthy, but sweet at the same time. his cock slips into your mouth so smoothly, and you take it with enthusiasm, humming as the tip nudges against the back of your throat, tears appearing at the edges of your eyes. with his breathing hitching, quiet groans accompany each flick of your tongue.

“oh, you’re doing such a wonderful job.”

he sounds calm, like always, as if he is discussing some delicate business deals. but you can hear the break in his voice, and the trembling of his hands as they grab onto the roots of your hair.

“if you could only see yourself…” he coos softly, his hips meeting your lips halfway, pushing a little further. “it is almost cute how determined you are to tease me.”

you look up, making eye contact with him, and he gazes down at you, somewhat dizzy and cheeks flushed. the heat pools in your lower stomach at his praises, and you try to take him even deeper, swallowing around him until you nearly gag. his hips buckle at the action, and his nails scratch faintly at your scalp.

luocha is a very patient man. but you have ways to make him desperate.

welt ノ

the tip is pressed against your lips, already a bit flushed and glistening from your previous teasing, but you refuse to open your mouth. he smiles tenderly above you, amused at your playfulness, his cock giving another twitch at the attention.

“would you prefer a more direct approach, darling?”

you nod, shy. one of his hands reaches out to grab behind your head, holding it in place, and the other parts your lips with firm gentleness so he can finally push inside. his thrusts are gentle and precise, hitting the back of your throat in the most delicious way. the hand on your skull strokes and pets your hair gently, and you know the loving smile is still plastered to his face despite you having to close your eyes.

“let me know if it gets uncomfortable…”

one of his fingers slips under your chin, stroking the column of your neck and feeling himself move in and out of your throat, your muscles contracting around him pleasingly. his breathing is laboured, and the praises pour out of his mouth as he fucks your lips. his thumb traces your cheekbones, and he pushes your head even lower, causing you to almost choke around his cock, but your expression is full of bliss and delight.

“so good to me…”

a strangled groan leaves his throat, his legs trembling slightly with the effort of keeping his pace, while his hands hold on to you like you are the only anchor keeping him grounded.

#writing ノ #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut #dr. ratio x you #dr. ratio x reader #dr. ratio smut #luocha x you #luocha x reader #luocha smut #welt x you #welt x reader #welt smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #star rail x you #star rail x reader

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Fairytale Series:

Rapunzel

Part 1 Part 2

Yandere Witch x Rapunzel Reader x Yandere Prince

For many, long years you had resided in an isolated tower deep in the forest with an elderly woman named Agnes and her daughter Hilda. The three of you had lived here together and created a nice home for yourselves in a place no man could ever harm you… or at least that’s what Agnes instilled in you and Hilda since you were children. Men were evil and couldn’t be trusted. They would lure you in with sweet words and promises, but then they’d swallow you whole like a beast.

Since you were ten, Hilda and Agnes never let you lift a finger nor did they let you outside. “It’s dangerous for you. You’re far too delicate for the forest. Leave it to us, (your name).” Agnes would always tell you before she took Hilda with her to forage and hunt.

Despite your years with the two of them, Agnes told you that you were not biologically her child. “Hilda and I found you in the forest one day. You were just a baby and we couldn’t leave you… so you can stay here with us, forever. You’re ours, my dear.”

They’d brush your hair as it slowly began to grow longer than the length of the tower. Your long hair was used to come and go after Agnes and Hilda sealed off the door to ‘keep you safe.’

Every time you’d ask to go out or inquire about what they’d see, Agnes would shut you down. “Curiosity killed the cat, dear. You just wait here, we will be back.”

The mother and daughter often took trips for supplies. Whether it was berries or necessities, their trips only took a few hours… sometimes they took a few days. It just depended on what they needed. The pair never let the supplies dwindle much. Agnes hated being irresponsible when it came to stock.

It was when you were over the age of twenty that Agnes’s health took a turn. Hilda would often weep with you as she held you close. You and Hilda had grown so close… Hilda swore she wouldn’t let her mother down. That’d she’d carry on her will. (A will you didn’t have a clue about)

When Agnes passed away, Hilda immediately took charge over the chores around the tower. The beautiful young woman often fretted over you as she made sure the two of you were cared for. She took over brushing your long locks and gathering supplies.

Sometimes Hilda would braid her long black hair with hers. So ‘the two of you were connected.’ It was always fun whenever Hilda would let you play with her hair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back! I can bring you back your favorite berries.” Hilda would gave you a reassuring smile before she headed out into the forest. You watched her form until she disappeared into the trees.

So you’d get back to painting the walls with a hum. Your hair draped behind you like a waterfall as you sat on your homemade swing.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a loud clank on the side of your tower. What on earth was that?!

You jumped off your swing and ran to look at the balcony. A grappling hook was slung around the metal frame as a hooded figure began to scale the tower. Who we that?!

You went to shut the balcony door but ended up slipping on your own hair. Your back hit the floor as you whined in pain. Your eyes wide in terror at the knight that now stood in front of you as he quickly winded up the rope. The knight mumbled some curses before he shoved the grappling hook in his bag.

“W-who are-“ the knight pushed you further into the tower as he put a gloved hand over your mouth. Your body trembled when you looked into their lilac eyes. You’d never seen such pretty eyes before…

There was shouting below and the sound of hooves. Was this knight being pursued? You couldn’t tell since the knight held you firmly in their arms until the voices disappeared into the distance.

The knight breathed a sigh of relief before they released her. You quickly shoved the knight away from you as you scooted your body as far away from them as you could. You swore your heart was about to leap from your chest.

“Who are you?” You shakily asked but the knight gave you a small bow. Their hands slipped off the silver helmet on their head to reveal a rather striking individual with sharp features and long, lavender hair.

“I apologize for my intrusion. I’m Prince Vinicio of the Corcoran kingdom.” The knight’s voice was a lot deeper than she expected. How could a woman have such a deep voice?

“Prince? Don’t you mean princess?” You softly asked which made the knight erupt into laughter.

“No. Despite my rather feminine appearance, I’m male.”Vinicio smiled warmly at you. “I just noticed how long your hair is. Have you been growing it out for a long time-“

You jumped when he reached a hand out to you which made him frown. Vinicio’s mind began to wander as he glanced around your home. Did you live here all alone? This wilderness was not becoming of a lady, especially not one as stunning as you. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“P-please leave. I’m not supposed to talk to men.”

Vinicio frowned but gave you a small bow out of respect. You must be being held against your will in this lonely tower… he’d have to gain your trust to save you.

“I apologize, I’ll take my leave.” Vinicio put his helmet back on but turned to give you one last look. “But can I meet you again tomorrow? I can talk to you from below the tower. I won’t climb up here again.”

You bit your lip. Agnes had always warned you and Hilda about men but Vinicio didn’t seem dangerous… “Okay. But only if you promise to not climb.”

Vinicio smiled warmly at you. “I promise.”

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere Prince #Yandere witch #yandere male #yandere harem #yandere lovers #love triangle #princess reader #yandere female #yandere lesbian #yandere obsession #yandere concept #yandere short story #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #Yandere Rapunzel #fairytale au #yandere fantasy #yandere headcanons #original work #yandere boyfriend #Yandere girlfriend

[bisexualiteaa]

Make-Up Sex

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW MDNI!! Rough sex, riding, Cooper getting tied up, p in v, p0rn w/o plot, irradiated cream pie x2, mention of needles, cursing, established relationship, slight OOC Cooper, slight deviance from show

AN: I’m really enjoying writing for asks! Thank you to those who have submitted any, my ask box is always open so feel free to send in more! I will do my best to get to them as I can, and to the Anon who asked for this one, I hope I did your ask justice! Enjoy our favorite cowboy getting tied up and railed. Save a horse, ride a cowboy y’all. 🤠 apologies if it seems rushed, I wrote it at like 2am and post this on my way to work 😭

Synopsis: Cooper Howard is one stubborn man, and after a while of getting on your nerves, you finally find a way to make him apologize.

He had been getting on your nerves all day. First instance was when you two were out scavenging after finishing a bounty hunt, your supplies were running a bit low after being out for three whole days longer than you’d anticipated. You were getting ready to shoot one of the bandits that managed to get a stray bullet to graze your cheek when he killed them before you could even get a chance. You evil eyed him as he said “ain’t fun havin’ your kills stolen from ya, is it sweetheart?” He asked, making you roll your eyes and give a groan as you sifted through the raider’s pockets for anything useful. No such luck. A whole three bottle caps, and a plastic fork. So you drug your feet as you both carried on towards home.

Second instance was when you both were surprised by some radroaches and radscorpions after opening the door to what looked to be a vacant rest stop to get supplies from. A few wasted bits of ammo later, you make it inside and he made fun of your screams for a whole two hours. “Ain’t afraid of raiders, needles, nothin’ but bugs” he would say as he’d laugh so hard he’d go into a coughing fit while your face burned bright red with anger and embarrassment as he’d use his inhaler.

The third instance was where you drew the line. He was sifting through his bag trying to find his canteen of water after not finding shit at the rest stop. “Motherfucker” he said to himself, upon not being able to find it or anything really to have to drink. So instead of asking, he just went into your bag when you were busy trying to scavenge more bodies, took yours and drank it dry without telling you, and you had at least three more hours on foot until you made it back to the settlement. So when you went to go get a drink of water, the horror and plain rage on your face when you felt that it was empty was immeasurable. “How in the fuck is this thing empty? I JUST filled it yesterday!” You said, turning to look at Cooper as you both walked and the look on his face was all you needed as an answer. “You drank all o’ my water? What ‘n the hell happened to your canteen?” You asked, your southern drawl becoming more evident the angrier you got. “Must’ve forgot it” he said, making you look at him like he just spoke a whole different language. “You forgot it?” you asked, wondering how in the hell the deadliest motherfucker in this wasteland was traveling with you and just forgot his water. “Oh you gotta be shittin’ me….You know what, I don’t even wanna know how you managed that. We’re almost back to the settlement, I’ll refill it when we get there” you said angrily, moving ahead of him a little to prove that he’d pulled the last straw on your patience.

When you made it back to your settlement and back to the place you called home, you organized all the supplies you’d gotten, (which wasn’t much) putting them where they all were supposed to go, refilling canteens of water, and changing into more comfortable clothes as night began to fall. It was around dinner time that Cooper finally noticed that he really managed to piss you off.

You’d hardly ever given Cooper the cold shoulder in the time you two had been together, he was married before so he wasn’t ignorant to what being given the cold shoulder meant, but Cooper Howard was a stubborn man, one set in his ways so when he feels there’s no need to do something, he will not do it. “You gonna sit here ‘n ignore me all night?” He asked, and all you did was cross your arms in response, making him shake his head. “I’ll take that as a yes, but we’ll see how long that lasts, ya always come around somehow” he said arrogantly, only adding fuel to the fire and he knew it, it’s just how he was. He was an asshole, he was when you met him and apparently that charm never fully left. He was partly right however which is what you didn’t want to give him credit for. Even when you were really mad at him, you always came around at some point. His mouth got him into a lot of trouble, but it also managed to get him out of it too, his charisma and smooth talking always landing with some kisses to open you back up or make up sex to help you forget. You never were the kind of girl to let good dick sway you out of being mad but it was attached to a man that cared about you in ways no one else ever did, so you supposed he was at least a good exception. “You’ll come ‘round when that ache sets in, when you realize your dainty lil’ fingers can’t do anything close to what mine do to you” he said by your ear as he stood up from the dining room table, working you up and trying to get you to sleep with him to forget about your anger, but just as he was stubborn, you were just as set in your ways too. Though he knew it was a tough decision for you, you’d both gone a whole two weeks out there in the wastelands collecting caps from bounties and scavenging for supplies without any time or a means to sneak away and be with one another, so you were both pent up and he knew it. It was half the reason for your attitude to begin with, although you supposed he likely knew that too.

You got up from the chair in the kitchen a few minutes after he moved to the bedroom, getting ready for bed. You stopped him as he’d just taken his boots off, finally ready to be on speaking terms again but they were your terms. “Here’s how this is gon’ work. You, are gonna lay on that bed, and let me fuck you like I hate you because right now, I am doing everythin’ in my power not to hate you, and you ain’t been makin’ that an easy feat” you said, your eyes looking straight into his as if you were staring right into his soul, if he still even had one. “Yeah? And what makes you think I’m just gonna let you get away with that, lil’ lady?” He asked in a condescending tone, making you chuckle. “Because I know damn well you’re as pent up as I am, so if you want any, and wanna get back into my good graces, this is how it’s gonna happen. And I will accept that as an apology for the shit you’ve done” you replied as you stepped closer, not caring that you had to look up at him when you spoke, the venom in your words was enough to prove the point you were trying to make. Your response making him huff a short, dry chuckle, impressed by how well you stood your ground, so he awaited your orders. “Now take your damn clothes off” you said, making him grin as he did as he was told, he could get used to you bossing him around like this. Your accent got a little thicker when you were mad, and the way you barked orders and told him what to do with a quip ready for whatever he had to say in response, he had to admit was a side of you he liked seeing more than he’d ever admit to. He shook his duster from his shoulders, then worked at his shirt as you pulled yours off and over your head, then moved to unclasp your bra and dispose of it on the floor, not caring where it went. Your eyes raked each other’s frame with almost visible tension as you stood a few feet apart from each other. Enough space to keep him from using his hands to get you to submit, but enough to also allow you to close the gap when you felt comfortable enough to. You both worked at undoing your pants, tossing them aside to be forgotten about until morning. “Get on the bed” you ordered, leaving the room to grab his rope from his saddlebag in the kitchen. When you returned, he noticed the item in your hands, giving you a wicked grin. “Gonna tie me up, sweetheart?” He asked in that condescending tone, making you chuckle as you tied his hands to the rungs of the bed frame nice and tight. Tight enough to keep him in place, not too tight to hurt too much, he was an asshole sure but he was still your asshole. “Sure am. Gonna need to earn the right back t’ touch me, and you ain’t earned it yet” you replied, straddling his lap as you ground your slick pussy against his cock. He gave a groan at the feel of you, watching as your hips moved against his to coat him in slick for when you’d line him up to your entrance. Key word there was when because you wanted to make this torturous. You moaned as you bucked your hips against him, his head bumping your clit as you used him for your own pleasure. “Think I could use you just like this. Mmm…make myself cum then leave you here achin’ for more” you threatened, running your hands along your figure and toying with your breast to tease him extra, hearing groans leave him each time your pussy would glide along his cock. “Now that ain’t very nice of you” he replied, making you grin. “Never said nothin’ ‘bout playin’ nice sugar. Still waitin’ for you to say you’re sorry” you responded, making him grunt as you continued to play with yourself and moan all sweetly. “I ain’t apologizin’, no need to” he said, making you click your tongue. “A shame, looks like you ain’t cummin’ tonight then” you said, continuing your movements as you got closer and closer to letting that knot snap inside you. He wanted- no he *needed* to feel your gummy walls wrapped around his cock, so the fact that you were using it in a way that couldn’t afford him that, was already working his nerves.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like what I’m givin’ you? Should be thankful I’m even touchin’ you with how mad you made me” you said, going a little quicker now with your movements so he tried focusing on that, focusing on the way your clit would bump that spot right under his tip over and over. So when you came from grinding against it rather than seating on it and *ruined*that chance of still getting to finish, he gave a disgruntled grunt.

“Aww what’s the matter? Did I stop somethin’?” You asked in a deeper, condescending tone that had his dick throbbing in need. He’d never seen this evil of a side of you before, but you had only just started. “Whatchya want Cooper? Go ‘head, tell me” you said, making him grunt. “Want you t’ shut up and ride me already” he said, making you chuckle before landing a harsh slap across his face, the sound of your hand meeting his cheek rang through the room. “You ain’t in the position to be givin’ orders sugar. I thought you had manners” you said as he turned and looked back at you, astonished one by the power behind that smack and two, by the tone you were getting with him. “I’ll ask you one more time, what’dya want me to do to you, hmm?” You asked, and knowing now what power you had behind just one of those smaller hands of yours, he relented. “Ride me, please” he grunted, making you smile and lay a soft kiss to his cheek to try and soothe where you slapped him. “See? Not so bad now is it? Now if ya just apologize, I’ll take some RadAway and let you cum” you said, and judging by the look on his face, you could say that wasn’t going to happen. “Fuck you” he spat, making you chuckle. “Oh I am gonna fuck you, don’t you worry” you said as you lined him up to your entrance, sinking down on him inch by torturous inch. You were having way too much fun with this, and he didn’t like that he couldn’t have his way for a change. His hips involuntarily bucked up to try and shove more of himself into your tight cunt, but you moved to where it wouldn’t happen, making him grip the bed frame where he was tied to. “Someone’s gettin’ antsy, best keep them hips steady if you want this to continue” you said, making him growl under his breath before giving a groan once you were fully seated on him. You gave a moan as his tip nudged the apex to your cervix, moving your hips back and forth to where you would get off, but not do much for him. He gave you an angry look that made you laugh. “What’s the matter honey? Ya asked me to ride you already, it’s what I’m doin’” you said, making him grit his teeth as he did his best to hold his bearings. “But I guess you were good and didn’t move after I warned you so I’ll throw a bone atchya” you said, moving up and down on him, earning a groan from him once more that mingled with the moans falling from your lips. “Fuck…” he breathed, making you chuckle and smirk in that bratty way that he wanted to fuck off your face already, but he couldn’t. Despite his expressions and reactions, he was enjoying this too much but he couldn’t let you know that.

“Mmm, Cooper…” you moaned sweetly as you bounced on his cock, his name sounded heavenly when it fell from your lips, he could hardly get enough of it. He watched as your tits bounced up and down with your movements, the way your thighs jiggled as you moved, god how he wanted to grip them so bad right now. To hold you down and buck up into you until your eyes were rolling back in your head and you were screaming, but this was your show to run. You picked up the pace a little bit, going faster and angling where his tip would brush against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside. He felt the way your walls started to close around him, sucking him in each time you’d come down, and fluttering around him. You were close. You were so caught up in chasing that feeling that you almost missed what he said. “Fuck- ‘m sorry” he spoke softly, finally apologizing to you. “What was that? I don’t think I quite heard ya there” you said, making him grunt. He should have known that you would milk the shit out of this. “I said I was- fuck- sorry” he repeated, making you hum but it wasn’t enough, not yet. So you stopped. “Sorry for what?” You asked, and he didn’t seem very happy at the fact that you stopped moving all together when he was so close to cumming yet again. “Dammit, wadn’t sayin’ sorry enough? I fuckin’ apologized like you wanted” he snapped, making you slap him across his cheek once more, this one stinging a bit more because it landed in the exact same spot as the last one. Though the tingling sensation of pain never lasted very long, it was enough to make his dick throb while inside of you and he prayed you wouldn’t notice. “Lose the attitude before I hop off and take care of myself then leave you tied up here all night” you said, making him huff in response. “Fine” he replied gruffly through gritted teeth. “Good, now I wanna hear you say it. What are you sorry for?” You asked as you started your pace back up, making him groan again as your hips and ass slapped down against him harshly. “Sorry f’ bein’ an asshole” he grunted out. “And?” You asked, needing just a little bit more before you were satisfied. “And f’ makin’ you mad” he finished, and you were content with that. “Happy?” He asked, making you hum and pretend to contemplate if you were for a minute before finally answering. “Yeah, I’ll take that” you said, placing your hands on his chest as you bounced up and down on him once more, earning a relieved sigh from him. “Just like that sweetheart, fuck…” he groaned before you leaned down, pulling him into the first kiss you’ve shared in a day and a half. You moaned into it as you started to near your peak, finally able to chase it after all the time spent putting it off to deal with his attitude. “Gonna cum- Cooper…!” you moaned into the crook of his neck and that was his undoing. You hid your face into his neck as your walls squeezed him tight, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your legs shook as his hips bucked up into you, trying to work the both of you through your high as he pumped you full.

What he wasn’t expecting was you to keep moving, earning an almost pained groan from him as you ground yourself against him. “I never gave you permission to cum inside me” you stated, apparently he wasn’t out of the dog house just yet. He was plotting how he would get you back for this on another day, how he’d wreck you and make you remember just who it is you’re doing this to. You smirked as you had the wonderful idea of giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Perk about it bein’ a minute? I can go all night” you teased as you set that steady pace once more, needing more, needing to feel him after being so long without. His hands gripped the bed posts, white knuckled as he hissed through his teeth from the overstimulation. “You are one evil woman, ya know that?” He asked playfully, making you chuckle. “Don’t act like you don’t fuckin’ love it” you replied, and he certainly couldn’t argue with you there, not when it felt this good. “You can give me one more, can’t you sweetie?” You asked in a sickly sweet tone, using the same line he’d always use on you anytime he’d overstimulate the hell out of you just to see the faces you make and hear your moans. He recognized that line, making him grunt and groan as you moved your hips. “Fuck…” was all he could get out, mind foggy of any thoughts, just how good your walls felt as they massaged his dick. Maybe he should piss you off more often. “Look at those pretty faces, you like this, don’t you?” you asked, making him damn near whimper at your tone and he never does that shit. You gave an evil laugh at the pathetic sound. “Oh you sweet thing, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you” you said, leaning down and biting into his shoulder as you picked up the pace a little bit, earning a lewd groan from him. You laved your tongue over the spot, watching it heal instantly before sitting back up, fully seating yourself on him. You reached behind you to cup and fondle his balls, moving your hips back and forth to grind your clit against him to both work you to your end. “C’mon baby, give it to me. I can tell you’re almost there” you said, making him tilt his head back at all the feelings you were giving him, it was too much yet not enough all at once and it was torture. Your free hand came to his cheeks, pulling his head down to face you. “Eyes on me” you ordered, and his eyes looked into yours for a moment before flitting down to where your bodies were connected, giving a groan when he’d see himself disappear and reappear slightly and the way his cum was sticking to your thighs and his lower stomach. “Cooper…” you moaned softly once more, that was almost always your sign, the way you’d sigh his name so deliciously paired with your walls milking him for everything he could give you drove him mad. “Cum with me honey” you pleaded, and felt as his hips bucked up into you three or four times before you both were sent over the edge once more, a cacophony of moans slipping from both of you as he spilled inside of you and you came on his cock.

After laying there for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful after glow of your orgasms, you sat up, accidentally seating yourself fully on his dick again and he gave a pained groan. “Not again…” he whined, making you laugh as your hands came to the rope binding his wrists. “Relax, I’m just undoin’ ya. I’m mean, but not that mean” you said through giggles. “You okay though? I know I was really rough but I didn’t go too far…did I?” You asked skiddishly, a complete 180 of the attitude you had just moments ago and it made him laugh. “Wasn’t expectin’ it outta you sweetheart but I’d be a damn liar if I said I didn’t like it. I’m alright, you did good” he assured, making you relieved as you laid on top of him, littering his lips, cheeks, neck, shoulder, and chest with kisses as his hands rested on your back and hips. “I love you Coop. Even when ya piss me off, you’re still the only person in this god forsaken wasteland I could ever see myself with” you spoke, making him chuckle. “I love you too, sweetheart. ‘m sorry for makin’ you upset, wasn’t right. But I’d say you did a damn good job of puttin’ me in my place” he said, making you giggle. “No hard feelings?” You asked, looking at him with eyes that held so much worry for one person, eyes that held so much care. His hand came to the back of your head, pulling you into a loving kiss. “Never” he said into it, pressing his forehead against yours after you both parted for air. You gave a contented hum, happy for things to be all right again. “Remind me to piss you off more often, you got a good swing on ya” he said, breaking the peaceful silence with a grin, making you laugh. “Please don’t, I like moments like this so much more. I hate bein’ mad at you, love you too much” you replied, making him kiss the top of your head, wondering what he ever did to deserve someone like you.

“C’mon, let’s get ya cleaned up and get some RadAway in ya, don’t wanna ruin that perfect skin just yet” he said, making you giggle once more but it was cut off by a hiss as he moved you off from his softened dick, grabbing a wet rag and cleaning you both up as he got the IV started. He kissed your head once more, holding your hand like he always did as you got the needle in, got it all hooked up and a good flow going, coming back to sling his arm around you and hold you to him. Between the warmth of his body and the comfort of the bed, you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter shut, a soft smile resting on your lips as you fell asleep peacefully against him. You always felt safe when you were with him, no matter where you were, and he’d always protect you no matter what. And that, is what love in post apocalypse looked like, he swore it.

#fallout smut #fallout #fallout x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 KNOW IT'S FOR THE BETTER (ALL I WANTED WAS YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: he can't stop himself from calling; you can't stop yourself from answering. he never speaks, but he doesn't have to—just knowing he's there is enough to lure you in. that's how it remains for weeks. that is until you mention that you're going on a risky mission and dazai has to to make an equally risky decision to keep you safe.

(wordcount: 3.1k; fem!reader, pm!reader, post-defection, angsty but not awfully so (again, sorry, i swear there's happier ones coming), implied alcoholism, dazai gets a bit jealous, ango cameo)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: OKAYYYYYY this was actually my first pm!reader and pmzai fic, believe it or not, it's been in my notes app for ages. i tried to fix most of the inconsistencies. as always, can be read as a standalone butttt for the people following the pm!reader universe, this comes directly after death by a thousand cuts! i hope you guys enjoy!! im actually rlly excited to finally get this fic out here!

He calls you sometimes.

Well, you don’t know for sure it’s him—he never speaks, if you’re lucky sometimes you can hear soft puffs of air from the other line, and the number is always unknown, but you know in your heart that it’s him. 

The first call came three days after you found him drunk in an alley—seven months after his defection. 

The unknown caller ID popped up on your phone while you were drinking with Chuuya in his apartment, trying to forget all about Dazai Osamu and all of the pain he’s brought you. You answered it irritably and when you got no response from the caller, you promptly told them to fuck off and die if they’re going to waste your time with prank calls. You expected them to hang up right away but they didn’t—in fact, they only hung up when they heard Chuuya shouting for you to get off the phone so he can open another bottle of wine, as if he wasn’t going to anyway. 

The next call came another three days after that. 

You were in a meeting with Mori when the unknown caller popped back up on your phone screen. You excused yourself to answer the phone only because you were desperate for a reason to get out of the meeting—you think that he might’ve somehow sniffed out that you ran into Dazai and if he outright asked you, you didn’t know if you’d be able to lie without him catching you in it. 

Regardless of the reasoning, you were even more pissed off than you were the first time when you heard the silence on the other end, accusing them of fucking with you and demanding to know how they got your number—again, the person didn’t say anything, and you hung up even more irate than you were the first time. 

It takes three more calls for you to put the pieces together—it’s a bit embarrassing how long it took you, but in your defense, you were trying to put Dazai Osamu as far from your mind as possible. Honestly, you weren’t even sure of it when you first guessed his name. It’s a shot in the dark when you answer the unknown caller for the fifth time and whisper, “Dazai?” so very hesitantly. Your confirmation comes in the form of a sharp inhale on the other line before it instantly goes dead. 

He doesn’t call again for two weeks, and when he finally does, it’s in the middle of the night. The buzzing of the phone woke you up, your alarm clock glowing a bright 3:15 am. You don’t even look at the caller—you figure it’s Chuuya, who has yet to return from his mission in Sendai—as you answer with a groggy “what?” 

You get no response besides the sound of a shaky breath on the other end and suddenly you’re wide awake as you realize who exactly called. He doesn’t speak, even as you make yourself sick with anger—he’s conscious and coherent this time, unlike the time you ran into him in the alley, so you take the opportunity to unleash all of the pent up rage and hurt that you’d withheld that night. You cry for the first time since he defected and he stays on the line the whole time, until you eventually exhaust yourself and fall asleep. When you wake up in the morning, he’s hung up, but the call time reads four and a half hours. 

It becomes a weekly occurrence—occasionally biweekly. 

Sometimes, you tell him about your day, rambling on about how you were irritated because Mori made you deal with Ace or complaining about recent territory issues that the Port Mafia has been facing—something that you probably shouldn’t be sharing on an unsecure line with someone who defected from the mafia, but you can never bring yourself to fully care because it’s Dazai. 

Other times, you just lay in bed quietly, exhausted after a full day of work, the phone resting next to your ear as doze off to the comforting sound of his steady breathing. 

You don’t tell anyone. 

If anyone knew you’re keeping in contact with a traitor, you’d be executed. You think that Chuuya might know—the two of you now share the penthouse of the westernmost skyscraper of the five buildings of the Port Mafia’s base and you know he’s smart enough to have put together who you’re talking to late at night. But if he does, he doesn’t say anything, because he too knows what the consequences of your actions would be if it were true.

You let out a soft puff of air as your phone begins buzzing—it’s well past midnight and you’re half asleep, but you roll over and pick up the phone with heavy eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper.

Dazai doesn’t respond, he never does, but you can hear him breathing on the other line, closer to the speaker than he usually is. You can’t help but notice that his breath is heavier than usual too, a bit shakier. 

He’s been drinking, you realize. You figured that he usually drinks on the nights that he calls you, but he never lets himself close enough to the speaker for you to figure out if it’s true. You just hope it’s not as bad as….

“I won’t be able to answer for a while after this,” you say quietly after a few moments, rolling over in bed to shift your face closer to the phone. “Mori assigned me another mission. An infiltration one—first one since you’ve been gone.”

Dazai would know the implications of that, and from the way he inhales sharply at your words, you know he does instantly, even in his drunken state. 

Whenever you were sent on infiltration missions, Dazai was always the one in your ear, making sure that you got in and out safely. You refused to take infiltration missions unless Dazai and his freakish prophetic ability was the one on comms for you because you knew he’d be able to figure out if you’ve been compromised before the enemy have even figured it out for themselves. 

But you had known it was only a matter of time before Mori put you back on them. You’re the best suited in the Port Mafia for them and the recent issues with that gang that’s been moving into the northern wards from Asakusa all but demands interference from the inside lest you guys will be dealing with another major gang war and the city can’t handle that. 

“I’m nervous,” you admit for the first time, voice little over a whisper. “I don’t trust anyone but you to be my eyes and ears. Plus this mafia is... They're very violent. Kawabata leads it. I faced off against him in Osaka before he moved into Tokyo, back when I was still in Kyoto. It's... risky. It's been years but I'm worried he'll recognize me. I don't know why Mori is insisting on me being the one to go in.”

You swear you hear Dazai take in another breath, as if he was about to say something this time, but he doesn’t. Your throat feels swollen and your eyes feel misty, jaw tight. Not for the first time, you miss Dazai. You miss him so desperately that you swear your chest caves in at the thought of him. 

You want to hate him but you know you can’t. You've come to accept that already. But you think you still might like to pretend you can.

You told yourself after you ran into him that night that you’d push him from mind, you’d forget about him. You knew that one day you’d meet him again—you and Dazai Osamu have been entwined since the day you met, fate has a lot left in store for the two of you for things to just so abruptly end—but until that day, you have to focus on what matters. And what matters is the Port Mafia.

But how are you supposed to forget him when he can’t even bring himself to fully leave you behind? You think it’s cruel of him, and you think that you should ignore his calls until he finally gives up, but you can’t bring yourself to because no matter how much you preach about forgetting him, if the choice of keeping contact with him arises, you’ll always choose it.

“I miss you,” you breathe out, voice cracking over your words. “I miss you so much that it hurts, Dazai. i-“

The line goes dead. 

The words on your lips die as soon as you realize he hung up, heart sinking. You sigh as you stare up at the ceiling before curling over onto your side, hoping to at least get a little sleep before your early wake up call for mission prep. 

But it’s a naive hope—you know that you’ll never sleep tonight, not with thoughts of Dazai Osamu racing through your mind. 

Dazai shouldn’t be doing this. 

His knuckles are white as he sits at a row of monitors in a locked down ex-government facility. On each of the screens are different vantage points of the main base of the Scarlet Gang, the mafia that had been run out of the Asakusa ward of Tokyo by the Sun and Steel and is now challenging the Port Mafia. 

Ango is pacing somewhere behind him, expression tight and arms crossed against his chest. Dazai knows that he’s livid over this, but Dazai also does not care because he doesn’t think that Ango has a right to be livid about anything that Dazai does anymore. 

He’s been here for three days already. His knees are tucked to his chest as he sits on the spinning chair, bags heavy beneath his eyes and hair matted and oily after days of sitting in front of the screen without budging an inch. He doesn’t dare take his eyes off the screen—not when your life is on the line, and especially not when he’s not even on a direct comms line with you. All he has is a burner cell and hope that you at least take a look at your phone if he has to send a text.

If this mission is like every other infiltration mission you’ve been sent on, it’ll be another two days before your planned extraction—and if you have the same luck you always do, the mission will go smoothly. But Dazai has a dark feeling in his gut, and he isn’t quite sure if it’s because he has no control over the mission or if something bad really is going to happen, there have already been some suspicious signs and he doesn't trust Mori. Your whole comment about his insistence on you going keeps scratching the back of his head like he's missing something, because there's no way Mori would ever risk losing your ability, especially to Kawabata. The man is always scheming, and Dazai is certain there's one simmering below the facade of this mission but he just can't figure out what. Either way, he knows he can't risk stepping away for even a moment. 

“I thought you were done with this, Dazai.” Ango finally has the nerve to voice what dazai knows he’s been itching to say for three days. “I thought-“

“Maybe you should stop thinking,” Dazai says dryly, his head hurts and sweat is beading beneath his arms. Three days without drinking is affecting him way more than he thought it would, but he can’t afford to be inebriated for this.

“Dazai-“ Ango begins.

“I’m not doing this for the Port Mafia,” Dazai cuts him off, dark eyes dragging across the screen to where he sees you laughing with one of the members of the Scarlet Gang, leaning in close with a teasing smile. 

You’re beautiful. Stunning. He can’t blame the way the man you’re talking to seems to gravitate closer to you, enamored by the sound of your voice and the way your eyes glitter beneath the room’s chandelier, but he still wishes he could put a bullet through his head. 

He hasn’t seen you since the day before he left—well, he doesn’t remember seeing you since then, at least. He has some suspicions regarding the part of his ear that mysteriously went missing the night he woke up in one of your shared safehouses, but this is his first time really seeing you and it makes his chest feel sick and heavy to know you’re so out of reach and by his own doing, nonetheless.

His eyes narrow as he watches the man reach out to brush his fingers against your arm. His lips twist down even more when his gaze tracks down to your lips—this is always his least favorite part of being on comms for your infiltration missions. 

“You won’t be able to oversee all of her infiltration missions anymore, Dazai,” Ango says, voice a bit more gentle and Dazai has a distinct urge to rip out the man’s vocal cords. “Once I get your records clear and you’ve joined up with the Agency, you’re going to have to leave this all behind for good. All of it.”

Dazai doesn’t respond. His lips press together tight as Ango’s words register. He knows that he’s right, that if he wants to honor Odasaku’s final wishes, then he has to leave everything behind—even you—but he can hardly even bear the thought of it. Never seeing you again, never hearing your voice again, he thinks that a life without you is not a life worth living. 

He thought that he’d be able to do it, that he’d be able to cut you off just like everyone else, but it only took one drunken night at a bar when he stared at old pictures of you for a bit too long for him to give in to the aching feeling in his chest, the desperate need to at least hear your voice one last time. 

Except one last time turned into another and another; as much as Dazai Osamu likes to pretend to be strong, he’s always been weak at heart for you. From he moment he met you three years earlier during the Dragon’s Head Conflict—sent with Chuuya by Mori to retrieve you after finding out the squad sent to escort you back had been decimated by an ability user—he’s known that he was out of his depth when it comes to you. 

He was already curious to begin with, Mori doesn’t speak highly of anyone but he did speak highly of you, and at first Dazai assumed it was just because you were a girl, and a young one at that. Everyone knows Mori’s gross fascination with them. But when they found you mid-conflict with an ability user, trying to hold your own with only a gun and some rubble as shields to defend yourself from sweltering flames, he realized that maybe there was more that meets the eye to you. 

You’re beautiful—god, he can never stress it enough, words don’t do you justice. Wicked smart. Can talk your way into and out of any situation. Have a bounty on your head high enough to rival his own. From the day he met you, Dazai knew you were everything he’s ever wanted. And yeah, maybe it took him too long to come to terms with that, but it doesn’t make the feelings any less powerful.

Sometimes, when he drinks just a bit too much and he finds himself staring at old pictures of the two of you that he’d taken, he wonders if you would have come with him if he told you what he was doing. He wonders if maybe he hadn’t been a coward, you would be with him right now instead of risking your life on an infiltration mission with some incompetent moron on comms instead of him. He wonders if maybe he would have kissed you on that same bridge he tried to kill himself during that first week he spent drunk and alone. 

He doubts it. In his heart, he’s pretty sure you’d always choose the Mafia over him, but it’s nice to pretend sometimes.

“I don’t care” Dazai finally says, his voice rougher than he intended as he gives Ango a cold look from the corner of his eye. “I won’t let her die on a bullshit mission because some clown is on comms for her.” 

Ango doesn’t get a chance to respond again because Dazai’s eyes are drawn back to the monitors, where a conversation is taking place on the far side of the room. A conversation that has them looking in your direction a bit too often for his liking.

Dazai inhales, rising to his feet, shoulders and arms tensing as his eyes trace the screen, trying to figure out if he should send you a warning. If he’s wrong, it’ll have completely blown your mission and it would put you at risk if Mori or any of the other executives start questioning you as to why you abandoned the mission for no reason.

But if he’s right… 

Dazai is good at many things, and he’s always been quick to be the one on comms with you because he, better than anyone else in the mafia, is good at reading and predicting enemy moves. He always knows in his gut what’s about to happen, you would sometimes joke that it was his real ability, some form of foresight and you would be less joking when you nudge his shoulder and tell him that you’re glad you have his ‘freaky prophetic ability’ otherwise you’d have been dead a long time ago.

Dazai grits his teeth. He feels Ango approaching him from behind but ignores him, mind racing as he tries to calculate the best course of action.

Finally, he takes the burner phone and shoots you a short message: compromised. 

And then he waits. 

The longest and most tense minute of his life passes as he watches you on the screen, waiting to see if you’ll even bother to check your phone. He doesn’t think that he’ll be able to stay in the room if it turns out you are compromised and stuck in enemy territory—he’d feel helpless, unable to do anything but watch and pray to a god he barely believes in that you get out okay. 

Come on, he thinks to himself as one of the men begins making his way in your direction, nails digging into his palms so deeply that blood began to flow from the crescents. Come on, check your phone. 

And then you do. 

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he sees you pull out your phone, eyes tracing the message on your screen rapidly. A flurry of emotions rocket across your face, and for a moment, Dazai thinks that you’re about to cry.

But then you smile again, leaning in and clasping the man’s hand and leaning in to brush your lips against his cheek before making your way out of the room. He doesn’t dare look away until you’ve slipped out of sight from the cameras littered throughout the building and out of danger. 

Without another word, Dazai turns to leave the old facility.

“Dazai,” Ango calls after him.

Dazai ignores him, snapping the burner phone. You’re safe—that’s all that matters. Now he can go back to drinking himself away and dreaming of what could’ve been. 

Two days later, Mori sends you away on a mission abroad that lasts the next three years. That night was the last time he had any sort of contact with you until you’re finally brought back.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.1k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail four years ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Charles area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“...No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.” 

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.” 

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s head as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

[rafeandonlyrafe]

sparkling juice

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, dubcon, drugging/tricking reader into drinking, established relationship, innocent/shy!reader (at least at first wink wink), kinda dark!rafe but really he just wants to bang reader reaaaaal bad

“this is so sweet, rafey.” you coo, your hand held firmly in his.

“anything for you baby.” rafe pulls you along the path, further out into the meadow until you get to a shaded area under a tall tree.

“here is perfect.” rafe says, setting the picnic basket down and draping the large blanket he brought with him.

“thank you.” you tell rafe, pulling him in for a sweet kiss before sitting down.

“i brought all your favorites.” rafe says, taking a spot next to you and opening up the picnic basket.

you let out a little squeak in excitement and seeing all your favorite foods before your brows scrunch together as you point at a bottle. “what's that?”

“that's um… sparkling juice. that's all, baby.” of course, rafe knows that's not all it is, but you don't need to know that yet.

rafe pulls out some food for you to snack on, not hungry himself, happy to watch you nibble on crackers and bite into juicy strawberries.

“wanna try some juice with me baby?”

“mhm, of course rafey.” you watch his large hands as he fills two plastic cups, handing one to you. “drink slow.”

you nod in response before taking a sip, pulling away and sputtering. “ew!”

“oh, baby.” rafe pouts. “do you not like it? im so sorry i thought you would.”

“let me… let me try to drink it again. i think im just not used to the carbonation.” you take another sip, able to control your reaction better. “it's not bad!” rafe can tell you're lying, but he lets out a fake sigh of relief and smiles at you.

“so glad, baby. we can keep drinking while we talk, yeah? tell me about your day.”

rafe knows the easiest way to get you distracted is to have you talk, and so as you describe your day, which leads into your plans for next week, which leads into how much you love rafe, you keep taking sips as rafe refills just your cup.

“i… my head feels kinda fuzzy.” you frown, setting the drink down, realizing your fingers are also slightly numb.

“uh oh.” rafe pouts, drawing his thumb over your cheek. “maybe it's the heat. why don't you lay down?”

“yeah.” you nod, laying back onto the blanket, surprised how plush it is from the soft long grass underneath it. “im-” you let out a sudden giggle. “im like really in love with you, rafey.”

“im really in love with you too, kiddo.” rafe adjusts himself to lay next to you, propped up on his side to keep an eye on your reaction as the alcohol you didn't know you were drinking slowly takes effect. “that's why i planned out this whole picnic for you. and brought you special juice.”

“was there-” you hiccup, words slurring slightly. “anything special in the special juice?”

“hm.” rafe sits up, picking up the now half empty bottle. his eyes widen in fake shock as he reads the label. “oh no baby! i must have grabbed the wrong bottle! i meant to get us sparkling juice but i got us sparkling wine!”

“im… im drunk?” you put together what rafes words mean, mind working slowly.

“im so sorry.” rafe moves to hover over you, cupping your cheek. “will you forgive me?”

“course.” you nod quickly. “was an accident.”

“you're so sweet baby.” rafe brings his lips down on top of yours, kissing you wildly, mouths and tongues a passionate mess.

“should we go get some water to help… get rid of this feeling?” you ask rafe as he shifts to kissing your jaw.

“that's so smart, baby, but i can't drive us home drunk, and you don't have your license.” 

you knew how to drive well enough, but in your 20 years of life, never felt the need to actually get your license. your parents drove you around as a kid until you started dating rafe a year ago, and then he drove you around everywhere.

“oh, right.” you nod, letting out a small gasp as rafes kisses move lower, exploring your neck. this is where you usually stop him, pull his head back up to kiss your lips and remind him you want to wait. not necessarily until marriage, but a bit longer, until the time is right.

“we should do something to pass the time, baby. until the alcohol is out of our system.”

“doesn't eating help?” you try to remember what you heard your friends talk about, since you're not a drinker yourself. “we could share the rest of the crackers.”

“i was thinking… we could finally make love.” rafe suggests, pulling back to look in your eyes, watching the way your brain is fighting against the alcohol in your system.

“well, you did take me on this nice picnic…”

“mhm.”

“and we have been dating for over a year now.”

“yes.”

“so… i suppose we could.” you shove down any doubting voices in your head, letting the looseness of your inhibitions guide your actions as you lean forward to kiss rafe again.

“thank you baby.” rafe repeats his words between kisses, his weight shifting to his elbow as his other hand holds your waist, before moving up until it's cupping your breast.

“oh!” you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. rafe smiles, tugging at your dress until the material is below your bra, pushing your breasts up.

“what if someone sees?!” you hiss out. it's not likely someone would come by, but rafe doesn't want to ruin his chance to finally have you.

“okay.” he pulls your dress back up, settling for touching you over the material as he distracts you with soft kisses once again. “ill just push your dress up. that way if anyone comes by you can easily cover yourself up.”

“mhm.” you nod, eyes sliding shut, head fuzzy from the alcohol and now from the pleasure building in your system.

rafe reaches down to pull his cock out of his pants, leaving himself mostly covered as well. he begins to slowly stroke himself, already halfway hard just from the excitement.

“oh!” rafe hadn't even realize your eyes had opened up until your outburst.

“it's okay, baby.” rafe says. he's well aware this is your first time seeing his cock as he waits for you to form a reaction.

“i… i want to feel.” you reach down, cautious hand, still numb at the fingertips as you stroke over rafes length, eyes widening when you realize how hard it truly feels..

“can you… can you not look?” you ask shyly, hand still slowly moving as you speak. “at me.”

“baby, you know i find you beautiful. all of you… but if that's what you want, okay.” 

“just… look away for a minute.” you wait for rafes gaze to turn to the meadow, watching the flowers sway in the breeze as he hears you shuffling around on the blanket to take your underwear off.

“okay.” you say.

rafe looks back to you, smile growing as he realizes you're laid back down once again, dress pushed up to your thighs, just enough to hide your privates.

“ill be nice and slow, okay? and you tell me if anything hurts.” rafe moves over you, waiting for you to nod before reaching down with one hand to grab his cock. he keeps your skirt as far down as he can while tucking his dick between your thighs. he moves until he bumps skin, letting out a breath when he realizes you are wet.

he rubs his cock through your folds, watching the way your face twists in pleasure, brows pulling together and mouth dropping open.

you let out a moan when rafe hits what he assumes is your clit. he focuses the head of his cock on it for a moment before sinking lower to your entrance.

rafe manages to keep his word, pushing in slowly. he may have been buttering you up for an entire year just to get in your pants, but now he wants more than just once, you're well and truly his, and he plans on exploring with you until you're transformed from innocent girlfriend into personal slut.

“oh! oh, rafe!” your hands move to grip his shoulders. “that… that feels really good!”

“doesn't hurt at all?” rafe can tell he's stretching you somewhat, but clearly by your rapid shaking of your head no, you're not feeling any pain.

“gonna f-make love to you now then.” he swings his hips back before pushing forward, and soon your moans are filling the meadow, being carried away by the wind as he thrusts into you.

“so, so good, rafey.” you cry out, back arching off the picnic blanket. rafe smiles. your first time, and you're already behaving like this. he's going to turn you into a whore sooner than he thought.

“fu-fudge!” you shout out, making rafe chuckle softly as you use your curse word substitute just like you prefer doing.

“you feel so good round me, baby.” rafe says, bending down to kiss your neck. “love the way you're squeezing me.”

“harder.” you whine out. rafes eyebrows raise, but he doesn't question your demand, pushing his hips faster, slamming into you more. your dress pushed up from all the motion to reveal rafes cock burying itself inside your pussy.

he lets out a moan as you grip onto the blanket, not caring about him being able to see you as you feel a high building inside of you.

“i think im close.” you say.

“cum for me baby. ill cum with you.” rafe says, bringing a hand down to your clit, your moans doubling as he rubs over it with his thumb.

your high hits you suddenly. it takes a perfect thrust from rafe a long with his thumb flicking over your clit and your wall breaks with a scream, hips rising off the checkered fabric as you cum, pussy clenching around rafe as he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.

you both collapse in a heap, faces flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly.

rafe pulls out of you carefully before flopping onto his back.

“that was really good, rafey.” you cuddle into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“thank you for trusting me enough to do that with me, baby.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“of course.” your eyes are on rafes cock, still halfway hard despite just cumming. you reach down, ghosting your fingers along his length before swirling your fingertip over the head then against his slit as rafes hips twitch from the overstimulation.

“do you think we can do that again? and then maybe when we get home? after you're good to drive, of course.” you look up at rafe with what he thought were big, innocent eyes, but he's quickly realizing you've got a different side just below the surface.

-- six months later --

“ugh, rafe!” you groan as he presses buttons on the controller, eyes firmly on the screen. 

“promise baby, will be done in five minutes.” he says, barely glancing to you.

you're tired of being ignored as you pull off the only clothing you are wearing, a big t-shirt of rafes to cover yourself. rafe glances over, realizing you're now completely nude as his fingers freeze.

“i want to fuck. if you're not gonna help me, im gonna go help myself.” you shrug.

rafe tosses the controller onto the floor, a proud smile on his face. you've become just who he's always wanted you to be. “of course im gonna help you baby, come get on this dick.”

#i wrote this on my phone so there are probably a lot of mistakes #sorry! #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron blurb

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Ten: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, oral, dick piercing, spit, back shots, GEN. SMUT[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is so annoyed with his mother. He discovers something and Ghost has plans for it. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 16th

I thought for sure you’d kick me to the curb. But just like always, you never fail to amaze me. You like the side of me that no one else does, you like both of me, that’s a miracle if I’ve ever seen one.

I don’t even like both of me.

You chose me, for whatever reasons you might have, pure curiosity or genuine care and interest… I don’t really care. All I care about is that you chose me. You want me. Me. All of me.

You’re choosing both of me. Separately. But soon you’ll love both sides of me, you’ll love me as a whole. That’s something no one has ever given to me. No one has ever wholly loved me, partially because I’ve never shown anyone all of me, partially because I used to fail miserably at balancing the black and white of my being.

Anakin the perfect boyfriend and future husband deserves your daylight love. Ghost the purposely imperfect and probably less than sane guy deserves your midnight curiosities.

I like this. Separating myself this way, it’s more manageable. I’ve tried for years and years to just be Anakin who is always pretending to be the man of the year, but is still just a tad too… off putting.

To everyone back home, I’ll always be the strange guy who only had two friends, himself and the neighbor kid who was only such good friends with him because they grew up in close proximity.

Anakin, the weird kid who didn’t know how to smile properly.

Anakin, the creep who stared too much, not at anything inappropriate. I wasn’t leering at women or anything, it’s just creepy for people to be looked at by someone who has ‘dead eyes’ and ‘doesn’t blink enough’.

Anakin, the ‘well he’s trying’ boy. The poor little guy who brought Brianna a handful of nettles on the playground, tied together with worms. ‘He meant well! He’s trying to be nice sweetie.’

Anakin, the ‘turn out your pockets before you come inside’ kid. You come home with a dead squirrel in your hoodie pocket once and your mother will never trust you not to have another stashed somewhere.

‘hey, it’s not that I don’t think you’re great! I do! You’re just not… great for me.’

‘please don’t look at me like that, it makes me uncomfortable’

‘Get away from my yard, I know what you’re doing!’

‘Who’s cat is that? Anakin! Where did you get this?’

‘Ani, you can’t keep doing this. I can’t protect you forever!’

‘Don’t you want to have friends? A girlfriend? To grow up and have a family? Don’t you want that?’

I was always Anakin-weird as hell, psycho, town freak-Skywalker.

In your daylight love I can be Anakin-nice guy, perfect smile, warm hugs-Skywalker.

I can shove everything else into The Pit until I’m ready to put on that Ghostface mask and take off my mask of normalcy. Weird isn’t it? Putting on a mask just to take off another one?

I like it though. I really like it.

I can be normal for you. I can. I can be normal. As long as Ghost can be let out of The Pit sometimes. No more balancing on the edge for Anakin. No more hiding and pretending and suffocating myself with the act of being a person.

If I can flood Anakin with all the things I’ve learned over the years, all the knowledge I’ve stored away in my mind’s filing cabinets… then you can have the man you deserve.

You’ll just have to come to terms with the fact that once Ghost makes his appearance, your Anakin is gone until further notice.

I think you’ll do well with that. You’re already handling it swimmingly.

Diary Entry: August 17th

You left me a note of your own this morning, a question I wasn’t expecting in the slightest. When I walked into the kitchen and finally cracked open the diary you’d left laying there for me I was shocked. Absolutely and completely shocked.

‘When are you coming home?’

You’re asking Ghost to visit you? For real? I don’t even know how to react, I never thought you’d be the one requesting the company of my masked presence. I guess giving you an option, proving your feelings and your well-being mattered most to me was the right move.

Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to do. I’ll have to plan. I need to think.

I have to be so much more careful now.

Date

August 18th

This is the first time Ghost hasn’t responded when you’ve contacted him. It’s been three days of nothing. He’s not been inside your house at all, no gifts, nothing has been moved, your cat’s bowl is empty when you get home.

His absence is more unsettling that his presence.

You’re beginning to wonder if you’ve angered him by asking about his next visit, was that the wrong thing to do? Did it freak him out? Asking about his plans… did it make him uncomfortable? Or is he tired of the chase now? Now that you’re interested… is it possible he’s lost the adrenaline rush of it all and he won’t be back at all?

There’s no time to ponder or worry right now, yet here you are staring into the foggy mirror in your bathroom post-shower.

“Hey sweetheart?” Anakin’s cheery voice floated to you from under the door.

“In here!” You called out, opening the door up and wiping off the mirror, grateful to have been pulled out of your mind.

“Want help picking something out?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your middle, pressing his nose to the crown of your head to smell your freshly washed hair.

“Mmm yeah if you want.” You nodded, smiling at him in the mirror.

“You excited?” He grinned, poking your sides to hear you giggle.

“Yeah… a little bit nervous though to be honest.” You confessed.

“What? Why? They’ll like you, I have no doubts.” He said with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulders.

“I know, it’s just… what if they don’t?” You asked nervously, looking away from his intense gaze in the mirror.

“They will.” He whispered kissing your temple.

“But what if they don’t?”

“They will, but, if for some reason they don’t then they’re stupid.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But I know they will okay?”

“But Ani I’m worr-“

“Hey.” He said sharply, catching the words before they could leave your lips. “That’s enough.” He said in a softer tone.

He sighed, grabbing the hair brush from the sink countertop. He started brushing through your wet tangles, starting at the ends and working his way up.

“You’re important to me. They know that.” Anakin whispered, kissing your shoulder. “They know you’re something special, trust me. I’ve never brought anyone to meet them before.”

“Seriously?” You whipped your head around with a horrified expression on your face.

“Yeah seriously.” He nodded. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone else.” He gently directed your head back to face the mirror so he could continue brushing your hair.

“That makes it even worse!” You squeaked, slumping over against the sink, your arms crossed on the cold Formica top with your forehead rested on them.

“Why?” He asked as he sat the brush aside and placed his hand on your back, rubbing up and down the soft fabric of the towel around you.

“I’m the first girl you’re bringing home!” You said exasperatedly, “they’re gonna be expecting someone like… like super great and amazing.”

“You are super great and amazing.” He laughed, squeezing your hip and patting it gently.

“But-“

“Baby stop.” He said softly. “You’re gonna work yourself up all over nothin’. Please, just trust me okay? They’re gonna think you’re perfect.”

“Okay.” You sighed, standing back up and turning around to hug him tightly. “Alright. Let’s get ready then.”

“I’m ready.” He said gesturing to his tight grey crewneck and ripped black jeans. “All fancy and shit.”

“I wouldn’t say fancy, but I would say hot.” You grinned.

“Stop.” He chuckled, “should I go change? I can’t have you drooling over me at the dinner table with my parents.”

“No, no don’t change.” You shook your head with a giggle. “I can wait.”

“You can wait?” He gave you a devilishly toothy smile. “Wait for what darlin’? Does baby need some attention?”

He picked you up and sat you on the sink counter, giving your ass a firm squeeze. Immediately bringing one hand to your cheek, his thumb on your chin, he tilted your head to the side and hovered his lips just over your skin. Barely grazing the softness of his lips up the length of your neck to the dip beneath your ear. His free hand rubbing up and down your side, as he finally pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to your sensitive flesh.

“My girl only waits when I say so.” He whispered, nipping your earlobe.

He nuzzled into your neck, bringing your ass to the edge of the sink with one arm, using the same hand to slip beneath your towel and travel up your abdomen. The towel fell from where it was tightly tucked at your chest, Anakin’s hand cupping your breast gently as he thumbed at your nipple.

His lips soldered to yours in a passionate caress of lips and tongues, you could taste the minty flavor of the gum he constantly chewed, the forever lingering ghost of cigarettes and the delicious savory flavor that was uniquely him.

He was so good at distracting you with his mouth on yours that he could get away with just about anything and you’d never know until it was too late. Just like now, when you heard his belt buckle clank against the bathroom tiles. You couldn’t help but smile, it was something so simple, but it was one of your favorite things.

The sound will forever be associated with every kiss, every touch, every gasp and breath he’d given you and every intimate moment to come. The jangle of his belt buckle coming loose meant falling apart in his arms, it meant love without saying it aloud.

Anakin snickered as he teased your opening with one finger, swirling it around the outside, never fully dipping inside.

“Greedy little pussy.” His deep bedroom voice never failed to conjure up a gush of slick to your already drenched cunt. “So fucking wet already.”

“Mhm.” You nodded, wiggling your hips closer to his hand or at least you tried to, Anakin held you firmly in place, tsking at your attempt.

“See? Greedy.” He chuckled but gave in anyway, finally pushing in one digit to twirl around your gummy walls while he pumped in and out slowly.

“Can’t help it.” You panted, breathing heavily despite the relief of getting what you wanted, you needed more. “Missed you Ani.”

“Oh poor thing, I missed you too.” He cooed, adding a second finger while he rolled his wrist as he thrusted his fingers deeper.

Just as you were about to speak again, the shrill sound of your phone alarm blared next to you on the counter top, making you both jump.

“Jesus! what the fuck.” He snorted, “pause baby.” He said as he reached over to turn it off and check the time.

“I’m so glad you set shit like that or else we’d never get anywhere on time.” He said with a smile. “Now, hop down and let me bend you over.”

“What we’re doing a quickie?” You teased as you did as requested, sliding off the sink and obediently bending at the waist for him.

“As much as I hate it, yes.” He sighed. “You know I like to take my time.”

He said as he rubbed his rough palm over the swell of your ass, tugging his boxers down with his other hand. He shoved his palm under your chin and tapped your cheek.

“Spit.” His voice was rough and gritty, like he he was straining, fighting not to ram himself into you right that very second.

You spit into his hand, earning a mumbled: “Atta girl.”

He slicked his cock with your saliva, stroking himself quickly with the head of his cock pressed to your entrance, pleasuring himself but just torturing you with the heat of his length.

“Ani!” You whined, pushing your hips back against him.

You’d done exactly what he wanted. The second you pushed back he rammed his cock deep inside your pulsing heat. He set a brutal pace, wrapping one arm around your chest. Your hands instinctively flew up to hold onto his muscled forearm, his grip tightened and you gasped in surprise.

“Christ Anakin.” You breathed out, your eyes wide with shock at this sudden change of pace.

He was a slow and sensual lover, he liked to take his sweet time and caress every curve and kiss every centimeter of flesh that he could reach. But this was completely different, this was pure hunger, hips snapping against your ass at a punishing pace.

His other arm came down your stomach and spread your pussy lips apart to press and pinch the little hard nub that would have you shaking beneath him.

The way he was breathing so heavily in your ear, the hot air fanning over your cheek, it only heightened the feeling. Sending goosebumps down your skin and perking up your nipples again. The sound of your wetness was loud enough to hear with each and every plunge of his cock.

“You like it like this baby?” He chuckled, “sounds like you like it.”

“Uh huh.” You nodded rapidly, gripping his arm tightly as a particularly sharp streak of lightning shot through you.

Your pussy clenched down around his cock and you closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling the metal jewelry at the tip of his cock gave you as it stroked your insides roughly.

“Making such pretty noises,” he moaned, tilting your head back and to the side using your hair, to properly reach your mouth so he could ravage you with his tongue just as he was with his dick.

“C’mon baby, let me hear it.” He panted, sucking your lip between his teeth.

“That’s it, yeah there’s my girl.” He laughed, watching your eyes roll back until just the whites were visible. Your eyes fluttered shut as your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck… Fuck that’s- right there… please?” You whined, trapping his hand right where it was with your fingers digging into his wrist.

“Good manners.” He praised, licking along the length of your jaw. “Good manners baby, so proud.”

“Just like this huh?” He questioned teasingly, a smirk on his lips caught your attention in the foggy mirror. “You like the piercing don’t you baby? Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah.” You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut tight while you waited for him to push you over the edge. “L-love it. Don’t ever fucking take it out again.”

“Sure thing baby.” He snickered. “You ready sweetheart? Getting close aren’t you?”

“You can cum.” He said as you nodded, his forehead now resting on your shoulder as he drilled into you, rolling your clit between his finger and thumb.

The coil that had been wound tightly in your core snapped with his permission, a high pitched groan eeked out from between your gritted teeth, your cunt leaking down his shaft as he fucked you through the high.

“Lean down.” He said as he pulled out abruptly, leaving you gaping and gasping for breath.

“Perfect.” He groaned, one hand on your waist as you pressed your torso against the sink counter.

He stroked his cock wildly, his fingers digging into the plush of your waist, squeezing soothingly when his chin dropped to his chest and he stiffened up, holding his breath. All you could hear was the sound of his slick hand pumping his swollen length over your ass.

Until finally you felt the warm spurts of cum splatter on your skin, the viscous fluid dribbling down your lower spine until it slid over your ass hole.

“Fuck, that looks so damn pretty.” He breathed heavily, standing back to take in his art work.

“I should take a picture.” He whispered, kneeling behind you with a hand under each ass cheek, he licked up his own cum with a satisfied hum.

——————————————————————————

Approximately an hour after Anakin defiled you in the steamy confines of your bathroom, you were walking hand in hand into one of the nicer restaurants on the outer circle of the city. Meeting his mother terrified you, his stepfather not so much. Anakin didn’t grow up with him, he wasn’t a staple of his childhood.

But his mother was. She was a single parent, worked so incredibly hard to provide for herself and her son. She made sure he had everything he needed and then some, she was truly a saint.

“Chill out.” Anakin whispered, squeezing your hand gently. “You’re okay.”

You nodded and silently let Anakin pull you along behind the host who was leading you to the table where his mother and stepdad waited for you both.

You laid eyes on his mother first and the smile that spread across your lips was genuine. As soon as you saw her your worries started to slip into the backseat of your mind. She exuded a calming atmosphere, she seemed so serene and unbothered. What you’d give to live life like that.

You could see where Anakin got his comforting nature from, especially as she stood up and extended her hand to you. The gentle smile and warmth in the crinkle of her eyes was enough to melt your heart.

“I’m Shmi.” She introduced herself in a soft tone, looking to her side where her husband sat. “This is Cliegg, Anakin’s stepfather.” He gave you a nod and warm smile after clapping Anakin on the back in an awkward side hug.

“It’s great to meet you guys!” You chirped, introducing yourself quickly.

“You too sweetie.” Shmi smiled, moving to envelope her son in a hug.

“Hey momma.” Anakin chuckled, squishing her shorter frame in a big bear hug. “Miss ya.”

“Missed you too hon.” She said quietly, patting his chest before returning to her seat.

She gave Anakin a little smile of approval when he pulled your chair out for you to slide into, you wanted to gush about how grateful you were that she’d raised him to be such a gentleman but you got the feeling that she already knew.

The four of you engaged in a bit of small talk while looking over the menu options, you refrained from even picking up the menu, getting an odd look from Cliegg who just chuckled and shrugged his shoulders as if to say ‘suit yourself’. The waiter returned with ice water for everyone and a bottle of wine for the table, getting ready to take orders with their pad and pen at the ready.

After Anakin’s mother and her husband ordered, Shmi looked at you expectantly but you just gave her a small smile as Anakin ordered for the both of you.

“Anakin.” She chided him after the waiter left. “She’s perfectly capable of speaking for herself.”

“I know she is.” He said firmly. “But she shouldn’t have to when I’m perfectly capable of doing it for her.”

“Shmi it’s okay really.” You laughed light, knocking Anakin’s foot with your own as a warning. “I prefer it honestly. I think it’s sweet.”

She gave you an odd look, her face was soft just as it had been the whole night so far, but her eyes conveyed something that you couldn’t quite place.

“Alright sweetie.” She conceded and nodded, the look passing over her eyes just as quickly as it appeared.

Anakin’s arm slid around your waist momentarily to offer some comfort, gently squeezing your hip and tapping his thumb rhythmically while he jumped straight back into the conversation he was having with his stepdad.

“So, Anakin’s told me quite a bit about you.” Shmi said warmly. “He said you’re a waitress and you’re taking classes at the college?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” You nodded happily. “The Bluebird Diner, it’s a real great place. Anakin’s a big fan of the butterscotch pie.” You smiled.

“The college… yes I’m taking classes. They’re all going well but I’m not set on a major yet and it’s getting to be the time that I decide.” You sucked in an anxious breath, giving her a nervous look.

“Well that’s perfectly fine.” She said, surprising you with her acceptance of your unplanned career. “I dropped out after my freshman year and didn’t complete my degree until Anakin was in highschool.” She explained.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Anakin’s side profile while he spoke to his stepfather. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Why I dropped out?” She asked, leaning back in her chair. “Well it was for a few reasons. Mostly because it’s difficult to work, educate yourself and raise a child alone.”

“I can imagine it would be.” You agreed with a humored smile, expecting to be met with a similar expression by Shmi.

Though you weren’t, instead she had a strange sort of reminiscent look about her. Not the fuzzy feeling of nostalgic reminiscing, more of a moment of remembering something unpleasant.

“Yes.” She nodded, “Anakin didn’t make it any easier.”

“Oh…” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at her sudden shift in demeanor.

It seems she noticed your body language change and she quickly corrected herself by breaking out into a smile, sitting back up straighter in her seat.

“But what kid doesn’t?” She laughed lightly, reaching out to pat your hand affectionately.

“Right,” you nodded, chalking up her strange switch up as a mother remembering her rowdy son. It must be hard, seeing him grown up and finally bringing a girl to meet her.

“So how did you two meet?” Shmi asked, turning in her seat to face you fully, giving you her full attention. “Anakin said you’re neighbors?”

“Yeah! Yeah that’s how we met officially.” You nodded.

“Officially?”

“Well we found out after we’d talked a few times that we actually met at the bar he works at.” You explained, “he made a drink for me. I thought he looked like… semi-familiar, you know it’s hard to miss the tattoos.” You smiled.

“Oh that’s very true.” Shmi laughed. “Definitely stands out.”

“Yeah, so we officially met the day he was moving in across the hall from me.”

“Oh you’re telling her about move in day?” Anakin cut in with a big grin on his face.

“Mhm.” You nodded happily, gazing at him with a hint of adoration in your eyes. “Anakin had his stuff strewn out in the hallway and I knocked over a stack of his books.” You laughed and he squeezed your shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, then we chatted for a bit and she noticed a book of mine that she’d lost her copy of, so I gave it to her. That’s how I snatched her up.” He said proudly, gesturing to you with both hands like he was presenting a trophy.

“Huh, who knew you had a little romantic streak?” Cliegg laughed.

“Oh he definitely does!” You agreed eagerly.

“Well Anakin I have to say: I’m extremely impressed you’ve found such a lovely girl.” Shmi said softly, glancing at you with those warm eyes.

“Took you long enough.” His stepdad smacked his upper arm with the back of his hand with a deep laugh.

“Hey, I was holding out for the right one.” Anakin said with a satisfied smile. “I wanted my forever girl and I found her.”

——————————————————————————

The rest of the night went smoothly, no hiccups, no awkward moments, nothing you’d worried about came to fruition. His mother was as sweet as could be and her husband definitely suited her well. All in all, you were happy to have had the opportunity to get to know them. You were proud to be the first girl worthy of meeting them and you were thrilled that they seemed to like you as much as you liked them.

“See? Told you.” Anakin whispered, walking beside you out of the restaurant.

“You were right.” You sighed. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I was what?” He fake gasped, one hand coming up to cover his mouth dramatically.

“You heard me and I’m not repeating it.” You giggled, bumping him with your shoulder.

“Good enough for me princess, I’ll take it.” He smiled, pulling you close and pressing a chaste kiss to your hair.

You said your goodbyes to Anakin’s parents just outside the entrance, a full, loving hug from Shmi and a ‘you’re great but we’re not there yet’ double hand squeeze on one of yours from his stepdad.

You’d just started walk to the car when Shmi called out to Anakin, causing you both to swivel around.

“Ani, sweetheart can you come talk for just a second?” She asked sweetly.

“Oh… yeah okay.” He nodded, handing you the car keys.

“I’ll go see what’s up baby.” He said with a soft tone, “go ahead to the car.”

You followed instructions and did exactly as he asked, climbing into the passenger seat of his car and starting it so you could listen to the radio while Anakin was gone. You didn’t think much of it, it was probably just a bit of an after dinner debrief.

Anakin jogged over to his mom and leaned against Cliegg’s truck while he climbed in, leaving just Shmi and Anakin to speak alone.

“Ani she’s a wonderful girl.” Shmi said, squeezing his arm gently.

“Yeah she is, she’s perfect isn’t she?” He gushed, his pupils widened at just the thought of you.

“Yes-“

“She’s just… everything. She’s everything to me.” He continued, picking up his mothers hand.

“Just w-“

“I mean I really believe she’s the one mom.” He squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles in an affectionate way. “Really I do, she’s perfect. I- I’m so glad you guys like her, I knew you would of course but she was just so nervous and-“

“Anakin!” Shmi said sternly, her voice quickly going back to a calm tone after getting his attention.

“Anakin, sweetie, I’m so glad you’ve found your person.” She started slowy, holding eye contact with her son’s intense gaze. “I’m proud of you, you know that don’t you?”

“Yeah of course-“

“I’m proud of you. You’re a good boy honey.” She said quietly, “she’s a sweet girl, she deserves the best.”

“Well yeah she does, of course she does and-“

“Are you being your best?” Shmi asked him, her voice turning hard, alittle sharp. “Swear to me, Anakin. Swear you are?”

“Yes mom.” He sighed as though he were expecting this conversation.

“Are you still taking your medicine? Seeing your doctor?” She asked worriedly.

“Really?” He scoffed. “Please, let’s just drop it. This was a good day, please don’t ruin it by worrying over nothing.”

“Are you though?”

“Yes!” He hissed, clenching his teeth tightly. “Yes I’m still seeing the doctor and taking the stupid pills, yes.”

“Good. Very good.” She breathed a sigh of relief at his compliance.

“Don’t ask me if she knows.” Anakin said sternly. “She doesn’t.”

“You can’t just keep that from her, she has a right to know Anakin!”

“It’s not the right time for that.” He raised his voice slightly. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I’ll tell her on my own terms.”

“But you can’t-“

“I said: I’ll tell her on my own terms.” He breathed deeply, keeping his temper in check. “Please mom, just… just be happy for me okay? I’m doing really good, I’m happy. Please just let me be happy.”

“Alright.” She sighed, nodding slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry sweetie, I shouldn’t have questioned you like that.”

“It’s okay. I know you worry.” He mumbled, pulling her into a hug, his hand rubbing between her shoulder blades.

“I- I just so badly want you to be happy.” She said quietly. “I want you to be safe, happy, and loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I am loved.” Anakin whispered, his voice rough, “You love me. Cliegg loves me. Owen probably loves me. I think she might love me too.”

“You think so?” She asked in a brighter tone.

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded, pulling back with a soft smile.

Diary Entry: August 18th

I love my mother, but she worries too much. Talking to me like I’m some child to be coddled and babysat. I don’t need her or anyone else to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, especially when it comes to you, my little doe.

I know what’s best for you, for our relationship, and it’s my opinion that you don’t need to burden yourself with my past transgressions. I’m a changed man, what I did as a teenager, as a kid, has no reflection on who I am today.

Telling you about it is out of the question. At least for now… but, it’d probably be for the best to never, ever speak of it. I just don’t see the point in sharing something like that with you when it would cause your pretty little head to worry over something so irrelevant to the present.

Not to mention the stupid fucking doctor. It was ridiculous, asking me such a personal question when she knows very well that it upsets me when she interrogates me like that. It’s none of her business anymore, I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.

If anything, her questioning and distrust makes me want to do it even less just to prove that I can live without it.

I don’t need to see a fucking shrink if I’m taking the pills right? It’s overkill to do both. I don’t need to talk about my feelings, I don’t need to tell a stranger all about my past and the questionable things I’ve done. That’s why I have a journal and I think it suits me just fine.

Just another reason why I love you so much. You’ve helped me by getting me into writing stuff down instead of keeping it bottled up. You’re responsible for the thing that helps keep me from spiraling, you should be so proud of yourself, showing me this A+ coping skill.

It’s way better than: ‘Breathe in… breathe out… focus on your surroundings and count the things you can see and feel.’

Like what the hell is that? What’s that supposed to do? Distract me? Yeah right.

It can’t distract me from what’s going on in my head. Not when it’s so much all at once, all the time. It was exhausting to pretend that something like that was working for me. Journaling is so much better. So much easier.

It’s real and it’s tangible. I can flip through the pages and return to the good things, or I can skip over the bad stuff but take comfort in knowing that I was able to write it down.

So fuck the shrink, I’m not going back. I haven’t been in months and I’m doing perfectly fine.

Diary Entry: August 20th

I cannot for the life of me figure out what the hell I’m going to do. I’m grasping at straws here, trying to figure out how to handle the Ghost situation.

I can tell you’re getting annoyed.

How am I supposed to respond? I know it’s been days but I can’t bring myself to answer the texts, the notes, the questions shouted into your otherwise empty home.

Hopefully you’ll understand, though I acknowledge that you have every reason to be upset with me. I’m assuming you’re feeling some sort of betrayal after the letter… I hate that. I really hate it. But it’s unavoidable.

You responded extremely well to my offer and the opportunity for a choice. So I’ll just do that again. That sounds reasonable, I’ll give a bit of an explanation, little apology and then I’ll let you choose what happens next.

This is what happens when I don’t fully plan ahead. I fuck things up and then it’s just a gommed up mess.

Then the whole situation with my mother really threw me off. It just added another layer of ‘what the hell’ to my already high stack of self imposed problems.

I want to do something. I need to do something. I have shit to get off my chest.

Date

August 22nd

Finally, finally Ghost has gotten back in contact with you.

Now that the little grey envelope is sitting on your nightstand… you almost don’t want to open it. After all the silence on his end it’s impossible to guess what he has to say. Though as you’re convincing yourself not to open it, it’s found it’s way into your hand.

LETTER

Little Doe,

My absence was unexpected for you as well as myself, for that I apologize. I would go into detail if I could but unfortunately we both know that I can’t do that.

Let’s just say that my life got a bit complicated and I had to take a moment to iron things out. Now that everything is starched and pressed it’ll be back to business as usual.

While I was gone I took some time to consider your question as well. So I’ll match you with a question of my own.

I’ve been… stressed to say the very least. I don’t like to be destructive, I’m not that kind of guy. So I was wondering if you’d help me out, give me a bit of an alternative rage release?

Don’t lie, I know you’re curious. I know you want me just as badly as I want you. I bet you’re wet just reading this, aren’t you? I think it’s high time for you to be conscious enough to really enjoy everything I’m giving you. Don’t you agree?

I heard you like it rough. Is that true princess? I’ll give you rough, just say the word and I’ll make sure you’ve got marks that’ll last for weeks.

Next half of the question: here or elsewhere?

You sure do love to show off that little body of yours. I wonder if that would translate over into your sex life if you’d let it.

Your choice little doe.

——————————————————————————

‘He did not just ask me that… did he?’

You stared at the letter in your hands, your mind going well over the speed limit on the road to rational thinking. It was tempting, oh so very tempting. He’s right of course, he always is, you are curious. You do want him, maybe even need him.

It’s obvious he’s more than capable of giving you what you needed, what you wanted. The man had you feigning for him for weeks with no relief, all from teasing you, all while you were unaware.

It would be… interesting to see for yourself in the waking world what he’s done to you in dreamland. It’s alright if it’s for research purposes isn’t it? Is it really cheating if you don’t know the person at all, his identity is a complete mystery; that should count for something right?

Just a smidgen of a mitigating factor would be enough to sway you to say yes.

“Hey.” You called out, waving your hand as if he were there with you and you were trying to get his attention. “You listening?”

*Ping* a text came through almost immediately: ‘Always.’

“You’re serious about this?” You asked, holding the stationary in one hand, gesturing to it with your other.

‘I’m always serious.’

“Right.” You sighed, pulling your legs up to sit cross-legged. “I don’t think this would be very kind of me to do. I just met Anakin’s mother, our relationship is getting serious.”

‘Congrats. What does that have to do with my need to fuck you?’

“Uh everything.” You scoffed. “That’s cheating. I don’t want to cheat on him!”

‘Defensive are we?’

“Yes,” you hissed, scrubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand, “very defensive for good reason.”

‘I admire your loyalty, but be honest with yourself little doe.’

“I am being honest! I don’t want to cheat on him!” You shouted back.

‘You didn’t say that you didn’t want me to fuck your though.’

“Christ.” You mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I didn’t say that. You’re right.” You conceded.

‘Then it’s a yes?’

“Not necessarily.” You snapped, the true answer was right there, clawing away in the cage of your teeth.

‘So no then.’

“That’s not what I said.” You said hastily, alittle too eager to correct him.

‘I see.’

“What?” You scoffed, staring at the message that’d popped up.

Another followed, this time a voice message. You hesitated before pressing play, holding your phon up to your ear to hear it clearly. His gravely distorted voice washed over you in all its unholy temptation.

“Don’t worry little doe. I know just what you need.” He paused for a moment as if considering something, “It’s been a while since you’ve had a night out. Go have some fun, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Oh no. Absolutely not. You’re not knocking me out cold again.” You said angrily.

‘Of course not. I want you to be awake for this.’

“Then… then why do you want me to go to the bar?” You asked suspiciously.

‘Surprise :)’

“Fuck.” You muttered, rubbing your temples before picking up your phone to message Luke and Han, as well as your good friend from book club.

“Just to be perfectly clear: I’m not saying yes!” You said, looking around the room with a red tint to your cheeks.

‘Not a no either.’

You could practically hear his voice, that teasing tone you knew all too well. What an ass, a stupid sexy ass.

DATE

August 24th

“Oh look at you princess.” Anakin whistled wrapping his arms around your waist when you walked out of your bedroom in a sweet little pink dress.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He mumbled and he nuzzled into your hair, taking a deep breath to smell the scent of your shampoo.

“Oh hush,” you giggled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “can’t be saying stuff like that, you’re gonna get me all flustered.”

“What if I want you to be all flustered?” He chuckled, tipping your head back to capture your lips and invade your mouth with a gentle caress of his tongue.

“Mmm taste as good as you look baby.” He whispered, his words fanning over your bottom lip and straight down to your core.

“Anakin…” you whined, looking up at him and wishing for mercy.

“Shhh don’t whine.” He laughed, pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “I’ll quit teasin’… for now.”

“But you do look gorgeous you know?” He said sincerely, very lightly touching your cheek so as not to mess up your makeup.

“Thank you Ani.” You said shyly, leaning up on your tip toes to kiss his nose.

“So what’s the plan again? Dinner at that one Thai place you like? Then you’re going to the bar?” He asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter, his hands resting on the countertop at his sides.

“Yep that’s the plan.” You nodded, checking your bag to ensure you had everything you needed.

“Call me when you get there? You’re walking aren’t you?” He asked, looking at you with a gaze of concern that warmed your heart.

“Yes I’m walking and yes I will call when I get to the restaurant and I’ll text when I’m leaving.” You promised, tossing your mini backpack over your shoulder and giving him a hug and soft kiss.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll see you at the bar.” He said in a low tone, smoothing out your hair as he held you close for a moment longer.

You left your home and Anakin behind, trotting down the steps to the city streets below. A walk would be good for you, plenty of time to think and plenty of time to clear your head of those thoughts before you reach your destination.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: August 24th

I’m so excited. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to do something for you.

I know it’s a bit presumptuous, but I think I know you fairly well and if you’re reading those nasty, raunchy books on your bookshelf… well I think it’s safe to say you might be interested in some of it for yourself right? You already think a man in a Ghostface mask with a knife is sexy.

I’m gonna give you what I think you like. I know I will love it. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time but I was always alittle too chicken to do it. Even before we started dating, before you knew about Ghost. It’s been a fantasy of mine that I’ve thought of way more often than I’ll ever admit.

But now I have your unspoken permission, well at least your non-denial of it. Which isn’t technically consent but who cares; it’s been so blurred between us already.

Honestly its super comforting the way that you so vehemently defend our relationship. I’ve never had someone go to bat for me like that before, it’s endearing. It makes me feel cared for, loved, needed.

I know it’s hypocritical, trust me I know that; but it does kind of get on my nerves as well. I want you to say yes and say it enthusiastically to Ghost. At the same time I want you to scream and kick and tell him to fuck off.

Being jealous of both sides of myself is frankly quite exhausting. I don’t know what I want other than you. I just want you. I want you to want both of me and you do, but that’s also a problem.

You think I’m two separate people and that makes me a tad worried.

The only comfort it brings me is that you aren’t enthusiastically saying yes. You’re denying the truth of course, we both know that. But you’re also keeping some loyalty to our relationship and for that I am so eternally grateful.

I love the way you love me even if you haven’t said it aloud just yet. You will soon.

——————————————————————————

Your group of friends were gathered outside the restaurant, as the last one to arrive, you of course received a light dose of good natured insults and chiding.

“There she is!” Your best girl friend Sam yelled, pointing you out to Luke and Han as you walked up the sidewalk.

“Finally! I’m starving!” Luke sighed liked he’d been waiting hours, according to your phone you were still two minutes early.

“Shut up and let’s get some food.” You snorted, pushing him through the door and into the yummy little Thai place.

After getting settled into your cozy corner booth you placed your orders and slipping into the familiar routine of gossiping and story swapping.

“How did meeting the parents go?” Luke asked, propping his chin up on the heel of his hand, his fingers drumming along his cheek.

“It went so smooth and oh my god his mom is so sweet.” You said, leaning forward in your seat.

“I was so worried they wouldn’t like me, but I think they did. Anakin said they did, I mean they really seemed to at least.” You nodded.

“Oh I’m sure they loved you. You’re the perfect girl to bring home to the parents. You’re the whole package.” Sam smiled warmly.

“You’re too sweet, giving me way too much credit.” You sighed, your smile faltering slightly.

“Anyway… yeah his mom was great. I think she was just alittle worried you know? I’m the first girl he’s brought to meet them so I feel like there was a bit of worry there at the beginning.” You explained, talking with your hands.

“She was talking about him as a kid and she just looked so… sad I guess?” You sighed, trying to find a better word to describe it but came up short. “So I think maybe she was just sad about him growing up, finally finding someone he wants to be serious with.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sam said, squeezing your hand. “I didn’t realize you were the first girl he’d brought them.”

“Yeah,” you nodded proudly. “He said he was waiting for the right one.”

“Ew that’s so gross.” Luke gagged.

“Fuck off.” You tossed a good natured insult at him, rolling your eyes despite feeling an immense sense of accomplishment… maybe a hint of guilt there too.

After the meal was finished, you all walked together out of the restaurant and set out on foot toward The Cerulean. A leisurely pace was set by Han and Luke who were happily at the head of the group while you and Sam hung back just a few steps behind.

“So he’s gonna be here tonight?” Sam asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah but he’s working though.” You said.

“Wait really?” She asked in surprise. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would that bother me? If anything it’s comforting.” You scoffed.

“Well he’s like… he’s just there you know? Not participating he’s just gonna be watching.” She made a displeased face.

“Trust me, I have no qualms with being… looked out for.” You smirked.

“So you don’t mind that he’s going to be watching you the whole night?”

“No, I don’t.” You shrugged, walking the through the door as Luke held it open for the two of you to enter.

You broke off from your friends in search of Anakin, you spotted him behind the bar, animatedly speaking with a coworker that you vaguely remember Anakin referring to as ‘Trev’.

It was like you had some sort of homing beacon, Anakin immediately whipped his head toward you and beckoned you over with two fingers. He trotted around the bar to meet you halfway, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you flush against his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“How was dinner, pretty girl?” He asked, his voice low and smooth.

“It was good!” You chirped, squeezing him tightly again before he let you go. “Told them allllll about meeting your parents.”

“Good things only I hope?” He laughed.

“Of course. Good things only, always.” You nodded with a big smile.

“It’s not nearly as busy in here as usual.” You observed, scanning the large space and noticing a much lower head count than the times you’ve been here before.

“Oh I know,” Anakin nodded, “there’s some kind of opening anniversary for a pub downtown. Free beer or something like that.” He shrugged.

“Huh, well I’ll have to tell Han.” You said.

“Mhm yeah I’m sure he’d enjoy it.” He agreed, “you going too?”

“No, I’m going home when I leave here.” You shook your head.

“Alright baby, listen, I gotta go back.” He nodded toward the bar. “You know where to find me.”

With that he gave you a chaste kiss to the forehead and quickly walked back behind the counter, stealing a drink order right from under Trevor’s nose as he slid in front of him, you heard him snicker and the *thwap* of a towel snapping against his leg in retaliation as you walked back to your friends.

You spotted them off to the corner, Sam speaking with a shorter man you’d never seen before. You snuck behind her with a cheeky grin and tugged a lock of her hair gently as you passed by, she was unfazed, simply giving you a pink cheeked smile.

“Hey Han,” you called out to get his attention as you drew closer, his head following the sound until he saw you. “You know there’s a bar even going on downtown tonight?” You asked, coming to a stop just in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s at The Drunken Horseman.” He nodded, “I think a few of the guys were headed out there actually. Free beer.”

“W-well why didn’t you go?” You asked in confusion, knowing he wouldn’t have just passed it up for no reason.

“Cause a little lady I know likes it better here.” He grinned, tapping your forehead with his pointer finger.

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that Han.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. “You should’ve said something!”

“Whoa, don’t get all riled up. I don’t mind it at all.” He reassured you. “I can still do plenty of people watching from right here.” He said, knocking his knuckles against the table top he leaned against.

He waved his hand over to the left, your eyes following the gesture until your gaze was met with a younger guy, unapologetically and unsuccessfully trying to speak to a group of girls despite being seemingly incredibly wasted.

“I guess that’s true.” You laughed lightly, the pull of guilt still tugging at your guts.

“Listen, after we’re done here you should go!” You encouraged, “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get to do something that you wanna do.”

“Babes it’s no big deal.” Luke said, popping out from his seat behind Han’s massive frame. “I think we planned on skipping out a bit early to do exactly that.”

“Really?” You sighed in relief. “Good, I’m glad.”

“We did?” Han asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Uh yes, we had a whole conversation about this yesterday you oaf.” Luke scoffed.

“Oaf?” Han let out a loud, bellowing laugh at Luke’s poor attempt at an insult, making a little smile creep up the corner of your lips as well.

——————————————————————————

You decided collectively to call it a night just a little before 11:00pm so that Luke and Han could still catch Han’s group of friends at The Drunken Horseman. You said your goodbyes to them at the door and turned to face Sam after watching them leave.

“Are you positive you’re okay with walking home alone?” She asked you worriedly, “like absolutely positive?”

“Yes, I’m absolutely positive.” You said with an appreciative smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay.” She nodded, satisfied with your answer.

“You better do the same.” You said, catching her arm as she started to leave with the man she’d been chatting with all night.

“I will,” she signaled for him to wait while she got up close to whisper to you, “I looked him up when I went to the bathroom earlier. Arrest records and everything.”

“Good.” You grinned. “Have fun then.”

You spun on your heel to find Anakin and tell him goodbye, heading straight to the bar and catching him in another conversation. This time with a female patron that you’d seen before.

“I don’t understand.” She scoffed.

“What don’t you understand?” He scowled.

“I just don’t get why you’re mean to me!” She huffed. “I come in here all the time and I’m always nice to you, yet you’re an ass every time I speak to you!”

“Then stop speaking to me.” He said flatly, pretending to inspect a glass that he was drying.

“I should report you to management.”

“Please do.” Anakin shot back.

“They’ll fire you, for being rude to customers.” She threatened, crossing her arms.

“They’ll ban you, for harassing employees.” He snorted.

“God. You’re ridiculous, I asked you out one time-“

“Yeah and it was one time too many.” He snapped at her.

“I have a beautiful, wonderful, amazing girlfriend.” He said sternly. “She is my everything and you, are nothing.”

“Like she’s-“

“Listen. Even if I didn’t have a girlfriend I wouldn’t go after a whore with loud ass mouth like you.” He snarled. “Leave. I’m banning you myself.”

“You can’t do that!” She yelled

“He can’t do what?” His coworker Trevor came over quickly after hearing her shout at Anakin.

“He- he’s trying to ban me.” She said angrily.

“What did you do?” Trevor asked the girl and looked over at Anakin.

“Nothing! I was just trying to order a drink and he called me a whore!”

“I did call her a whore.” Anakin willingly admitted with zero remorse.

“Wait is this the one?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah, she’s been bugging me, Jason and Stevie for the last few weeks. Comes in every now and again and won’t take a fucking hint from any of us.” Anakin grunted as he glanced over at her.

“That’s not true I w-“

“Nope. That’s enough.” Trevor said, obviously irritated, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her.

“Hey you can’t do that!” She shouted trying to grab his phone.

“You’re going on the wall honey.” He said, thumbing over his shoulder at a cork board of banned patrons.

“You’re serious?” She scoffed, “you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly. Now get out.” Trevor barked, following her angry path across the bar to ensure that she did in fact leave.

“Baby?” Anakin’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you realized you’d been standing there with your mouth open as he tapped the underside of your chin.

“Anakin you didn’t tell me it was that bad.” You said, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him, now standing in front of you.

“Ah.” He grumbled.

“I didn’t want to worry you sweetheart.” He said softly, taking both your hands in his. “She’s not coming back now so nothin’ to worry yourself over.” He said with a reassuring smile.

“That’s just awful though. She was doing that to three of you?” You asked in disgust.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Doesn’t happen often. Usually it’s April and Jess who get the creeps but every now and again there’s a girl who does it.”

“How much did you hear baby?” He asked, pushing hair from your face and holding your cheek.

“Just the tail end of it.” You lied.

“You know I’d never even entertain something like that don’t you, princess?” He asked, lines of worry etching into his forehead, “Never, I’d never even breathe in the direction of another woman.”

“I know.” You said with a small smile, you were being truthful. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about his faithfulness, especially now after witnessing him tear into a girl over it.

“I know I have nothing to worry about.” You said, giving his hands a squeeze.

You might not, but Anakin does. Anakin does have to worry about your faithfulness whether he knows it or not; there’s a Ghost haunting every corner of your life that has no plans on leaving anytime soon.

“Good.” He said with a warm smile, pulling you into a hug. “Are you leaving?” He asked, pulling g back slightly.

“Yeah I’m headed home now.” You nodded.

“Alright pretty girl.” He said, kissing your forehead. “Be good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.” You nodded with a big smile that faded as soon as you turned around to leave.

——————————————————————————

“I saw your girl leaving, you headed out now?” Trevor asked Anakin as he was untying his apron.

“Yep, I’m leaving too.” Anakin nodded, folding the apron and tucking it under the counter. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“Thanks for coming in to help out man.” Trevor said, clapping him on the back. “We got it from here.”

“No problem, you know I don’t mind.” Anakin said, grabbing his wallet and keys. “See ya.”

Anakin left hastily stopping at his car in the back parking lot to grab his essentials. He checked his phone and saw that you’d made an unexpected stop at the little corner store for what he assumed was a snack.

“Perfect.” He grinned, tossing his hoodie over his head and switching out his shoes.

He tucked his mask under his arm and hopped into his car, parking it up the road a bit closer to where you were, just to get it out of his work parking lot. He jumped out, locked it and slipped into the nearest alley. He grumbled but hopped the fence at the end and continued down until he hit the opposite street, running parallel to the one you’d be taking.

“One… two… three… four… there.” He mumbled to himself as he passed by alleys between buildings until he found the one he was looking for.

This particular place was perfect for his purposes, no cameras, no foot traffic, no dumpster, a brick wall on one end and a recessed entrance to the building on the left. A building that was currently up for lease, leaving it tenant free. He scaled the short brick wall on his side of the alley, using the dumpster there as a boost.

Anakin’s sneakers hit the pavement with a satisfying noise when he dropped down from above. He tugged on his gloves and mask, hitting the side button on the voice box while he walked up the alleyway, his phone in his hand.

Your little blue dot was quickly approaching and his adrenaline was running high. His body practically vibrating in anticipation of what he was about to do, with your footsteps in audible range he tucked his phone away and bunched up a black handkerchief in the palm of his leather glove.

Your long shadow came into view, the lamppost casting it down on the side walk below. It shortened with each step you took. Seeing no shadow behind you, no other footsteps, Anakin knew it was safe to enact his plan.

The very second you came into view he lunged forward, clapping his hand with the bandanna in it over your mouth. Instinctively you parted your lips to scream, allowing him to shove the fabric in your mouth as he dragged you by waist and under your arms as you kicked and thrashed.

Part Eleven

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @rorysbrainrott @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin x you #sw anakin #darth vader #darth vader smut #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin #anakin skywalker x you #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #james kelly #stalker!anakin

[cowgurrrl]

Roll The Bones

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Author’s note: I wrote this in the midst of a flare up so please enjoy and be gentle with your disabled friends <3

Summary: A bad pain day with Joel [1.5k]

Warnings: descriptions of injuries and subsequent chronic pain, medical settings and discussion, I think that’s it??

When Joel finds you, you're in a pitiful state. Your arm is folded over your face, covering your eyes even though the blinds are closed and the room is dark. Your right leg is peeking out from under the bundle of blankets and quilt, elevated with a lukewarm towel surrounding the swelling kneecap. The room smells like the salve someone in the town makes that's supposed to alleviate your pain. So far, it's just given you a headache. Your entire body throbs with pain and frustration. It shouldn't be like this, you think ruefully. I shouldn't feel like this. 

Joel lightly pads over to your bedside— his footsteps quiet now that he's discarded his boots by the front door— and perches next to you. His hand finds a home on your afflicted knee and carefully maneuvers his thumb over the tendons to help with the pain. You shift the arm covering your face to reach for him, and he smiles. 

"There she is," he murmurs as you take him in. His hair is long and a little unruly in the back, but you think it makes him look soft and domestic. He's shed his work jacket and heavier clothes downstairs and is clad in his soft, well-worn-in flannel. He smells like pine and leather. You want to wrap yourself in his warmth but settle for having him nearby. "Ellie told me you were havin' a rough day." He says. It doesn't surprise you that she did, even though you promised her you were fine and didn't need him. It's become rare that she doesn't update him daily on your health.

About a year ago, you were on patrol with Tommy when a Runner came out of nowhere and charged at your horse. She startled and bucked you off before you could regain control of the reins. The Runner was dead before you could hit the ground, and your horse would be recovered within the day, but the damage was done. You broke your leg in two places and dislocated your knee, in addition to a low-level concussion and cuts on your face and arms. When you came back into Jackson on Tommy's horse, half-conscious, bloody, and delirious with pain, Joel was horrified, Ellie even more so.

You were in the hospital for a month as they used what they could to put you in something akin to a cast and reset the bones. Joel and Ellie took turns being guards at your bed, monitoring what they gave you, when, and how much, and how your healing process was going. They were there with you every day, learning the tips and tricks to support you and keeping you sane as you stared at the white walls. 

Six months, the doctor said. Six months is all it would take to be back to normal as long as you did everything you were supposed to. Things have gotten better slower than you would like, but they have gotten better. You have really good days where you don't feel anything other than slight twinges when you move your leg in a weird way. Those days, it's hard to remember that you broke it in the first place. But other days, like today, you can feel every muscle in your leg tightening as stiff pain rockets up and down your body. You thought you could persevere enough to go to the store with Ellie, but your body obviously had other plans.

"My leg gave out on me when I was coming down the stairs. Pretty sure I made the whole house shake when I fell." You explain, and his eyebrows knit together in phantom pain as his thumb works your muscle. 

"You hurt anythin'?" He asks. "Other than your pride?" You blow air out of your nose in a half-laugh and shake your head. 

"Just some bruises," you say. He finds a tender spot in your knee that makes you hiss and ball up your fists, but he doesn't let up until the muscle releases. It's what he's supposed to do: break up the scar tissue, relax the muscles, and hope for the best. It still hurts like a bitch, and it'll hurt more in the morning. He mumbles apologies under his breath and kisses you to try and distract you, but your brain's been running wild for hours. "I went so long without any pain." You finally say, breaking the reverie and collapsing the unwanted space your pain often creates. 

"You've been takin' on a lot these past few weeks. It doesn't surprise me somethin' would flare up." It's an honest assessment. He warned you this would happen, but you ignored him. You thought you knew your body better. You wanted to know your body better. The returning thought and the gentle hand on your knee turn your tongue into sandpaper, and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. Despite the low light in the room, Joel catches it and makes a sympathetic noise. 

"Hey, talk to me." He says softly, shifting his hand from your knee to your face to catch a few stray tears. You shake your head and try and fail to form the words. Joel is patient. He always is, but he shouldn't have to be. 

"I'm so tired of being like this." You whisper, hating the feel of the words on your tongue and hating the sound of them even more. Joel gives you a confused look and pushes your hair out of your face. 

"Bein' like what?"

"Sick," you choke out. Now that the dam is broken, there's no stopping the bitter rush of words from leaving you. "We took her across the country and got rid of anyone who even looked at her wrong. Now, I can't even get on a horse without hurting. And I do all the stupid fucking things the doctor tells me to do. I do the exercises and take the medicine and everything, and nothing is making it better, and I'm so tired." 

"Why didn't you tell me that?" 

"Because I didn't want you to think I'm broken." It's a thought you've harbored since you were laid up in the hospital, unable to even walk to the bathroom without help, but this is the first time you've expressed it. You secretly hoped if you just didn't say anything about it, maybe Joel wouldn't notice. It's a stupid idea, given that your entire lives have changed since the accident. You just didn't want to get thrown away like all the other broken things in this world. Joel takes a deep breath and gazes at you. 

"Honey, you aren't broken. Not even close to it," he says. You want to counter him, but the weight of your emotion is too heavy on your chest. "I wanna know if somethin' is hurtin' you cause when you hurt, I hurt, okay? You're not a burden or somethin' to fix. You just… need a little extra care right now, and that's okay. I wanna take care of you."

"What if it's like this forever?" You ask, and he shakes his head. 

"It won't be."

"But, what if it is?" More tears fill your eyes as you await his answer. He didn't fall in love with this version of you. You don't know if you could blame him if he never does. But with enough ease and love to take your breath away, Joel kisses your forehead, right where your temple smacked against the cold ground. He kisses your forehead and the white scars littering your cheeks before finally shifting to kiss the knee propped up on pillows and hope. He doesn't flinch at the swelling or the angry spasms. He treats them with care and attention. He treats them as another part of you. 

"Takin' care of you has never and will never be on the list of worst things imaginable. Your health is not a sacrifice or a burden on me. If it's like this forever, we'll adapt, but I know you. I know how hard you're workin' to get better. I know we'll find a way to live with this," he says. "But I need you to talk to me when things aren't workin'. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's helpin' and what's not, okay?" You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod. 

"Okay." 

"Okay," he echoes. "I'm gonna get you an appointment with Dr. Lutton and see if we can't get you on a new treatment plan first thing tomorrow mornin'. Is there anythin' I can do for you until then?" He asks, fully prepared to go to the edge of the earth if you asked him to. 

"Can you lay with me?" You ask, and he smiles. 

"Of course, baby." He mumbles. He kisses your knee one more time before shuffling to wrap you in his arms. The warmth from his body helps relieve some of your tension and pain, and he kneads calming circles over your shoulders and back. Your focus shifts from the pain in your leg to the song he's humming, the vibrations in his chest a welcome distraction. The pain doesn't go away entirely— you doubt it ever will— but you rest your weary body against his and sleep, finding wholeness in his acceptance of your loss. 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller comfort #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou #joel tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal cinematic universe

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

When will you post the y/n Meeks Martin x Ethan Landry post 😭

Right fucking now lmao.

This is my first post in a while, take it easy on me 💕

Secrets - Ethan Landry x Fem!Meeks-Martin!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Growing up with overprotective siblings has made it difficult for you to find someone to be with, until you meet your brother's nerdy best friend.

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Some violence-ish, Oral - f receiving, riding, p in v, teasing. (If I missed something, let me know:)

A/N: If any of yall are familiar with Spongebob, I have the fucking suds and I'll be writing a lot the next few days lmao

Your brother and sister were so protective of you. After some of the things they’d been through, you couldn’t really blame them, and you were thankful that they were always looking out for you. The only downside? They seemed to hate every person that asked you out or showed interest in you. You were sure that you would be single forever if it was up to them, because they didn’t think anyone was good enough for you.

Once they went away to New York for school, you missed them, but with there only being a one-year age difference, you knew you wouldn’t have to wait long before you’d be heading to Blackmore. You took the opportunity to finally put yourself out there and go on dates without the twins interfering, and you were starting to realize how right they were when they told you that the guys in Woodsboro weren’t really worth your time.

When you FaceTimed Chad to let him know that you got accepted into the same university as him and Mindy, he was beaming at the news. He was going on and on about all the things he loved about New York, and wouldn’t shut up about the pizza, but you tuned out everything he was saying once you noticed his roommate in the background. His hot roommate.

“Dude, my sister got in!” Chad yelled, as you rolled your eyes. He seemed more excited than you were about the whole situation. “Ethan, come say hi.”

“Fine,” he huffed, as Chad passed him his phone. He paused for a second once he saw you, but quickly pulled it together. It was awkward enough to meet someone for the first time on a phone screen, and he didn’t want to make it any weirder. “Hey, I’m Ethan.”

“Ah, the dorky roommate,” you said, as Ethan looked away from you to glare at Chad.

“Is that how you tell people about me? You say that I’m dorky?”

“If the shoe fits…” Chad trailed off before he tried to take his phone back from Ethan.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, passing the phone back to your brother.

“Have you told Mindy yet?” Chad questioned, a smirk on his face as he waited for your answer.

“No…”

“I knew I was your favorite!”

Once Chad and Mindy came home for summer break, they wouldn’t stop talking about how excited they were to take you back to New York with them. They were heading back early to help Chad move into his own apartment with Ethan, and Mindy was moving into the spare bedroom at Tara’s with Anika. They decided that you needed to come with them, even though you wouldn’t be able to move into your dorm for a couple weeks.

“I’m not thrilled about couch surfing,” you said, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“I’d sleep on the couch. You could sleep in my bed.”

“So, she’s staying with you for two weeks? I thought she’d stay at Tara’s,” Mindy said, “What happens when you want to stay over with Tara and she’s left alone with Ethan?”

“Oh, please. Ethan won’t try anything,” Chad said, as Mindy scoffed. “What?”

“What makes you think Ethan wouldn’t try something?”

“Because he’s my boy. He knows she’s off limits…I already told him,” Chad said, as you sighed in frustration.

“You know what? I’m not doing this whole ‘You can’t date so and so’ shit that I’ve dealt with for years,” you said, as Mindy cocked her eyebrow at you.

“You’re staying at Tara’s,” she said, “You’ve gotten a little feisty lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you tried to get with Ethan just because we said you can’t.”

“No, I’m staying with Chad. It’ll be fine. Ethan doesn’t seem like the type to try anything,” you said, as she had a confused look on her face.

“When have you talked to Ethan?”

“Oh, that was when she called me first to let me know she got into Blackmore,” Chad smirked, as Mindy snapped her head in his direction.

“No, she called me first.”

They turned to look at you, “Who did you call first?” they both asked at the same time, as you shrugged.

“I’ll never tell.”

When you made it to New York, you were exhausted. You couldn’t sleep on the five-hour flight, and the jet lag was really starting to get to you as you went to the baggage claim area to get your stuff.

“When’s your furniture getting delivered?” Mindy asked, as Chad checked his phone.

“Soon. Ethan’s here somewhere,” Chad said, glancing around for his friend that was taking you back to your new home for the next two weeks.

“I think that’s him,” you said, pointing to the guy with the huge sign that said ‘Meeks-Martin’. “Is he always that lame?”

“Yeah, poor dude can’t get a girlfriend to save his life because he’s that cheesy,” Chad said, as he walked over and took the sign from him. “We’re just going to put this in the trash.”

“Hey, it took me two minutes to make that,” Ethan said, as he glanced over to you. He noticed you struggling with your luggage and carryon. “Can I help you with that?”

“I got it,” Mindy said, grabbing the large suitcase from you. She stared Ethan down for a second before she walked past him.

“How do you deal with them?” Ethan asked, as you sleepily smiled at him.

“They’re not that bad.”

As Ethan drove, Mindy was in the backseat arguing with Chad as he sat in the passenger seat about how you staying at Tara’s would be best. You sighed as they bickered, before you noticed that Ethan kept glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror. You thought he was even more attractive in person and thought about how hard the next couple weeks could potentially be with him living in the same apartment as you.

“Seriously, how are you going to feel when those losers leave the toilet seat up all the time?” Mindy questioned, as Chad scoffed.

“I think we’re housebroken,” Ethan spoke up for the first time in the drive as he glanced back at Mindy. He quickly looked away once he noticed her glaring at him.

“Listen, Landry. I know I won’t be able to convince her, so I want to make it perfectly clear that if you touch my sister, I will kill you.”

“What makes you guys think that I’m like that?” Ethan asked, the annoyance in his tone obvious.

“They think anyone’s like that when it comes to me,” you said, smiling at him as his eyes met yours in the mirror again.

You made it to Chad and Ethan’s apartment seconds after the furniture delivery truck pulled in. Once they opened the back of the truck, Mindy’s jaw dropped.

“I can’t believe mom paid for all this stuff,” she said, as Chad sighed.

“She didn’t. Ethan and I took out loans.”

“Maybe you should’ve asked mom. She paid for all my bedroom stuff,” Mindy shrugged, as Chad sighed.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

After the stuff for the apartment was scattered in various areas of the house, Mindy got the text that Anika was at Tara’s, and was wondering when she’d be over.

“You staying here, or coming with me?” Mindy asked but cut you off before you could even respond. “You’re coming with me.”

“No, she can hang out here if she wants to. We’re all going out for pizza later tonight, anyway,” Chad said, as Mindy rolled her eyes.

“Are you two going to argue like this until I move into my dorm?” you questioned, as the twins exchanged their glances.

“Probably.”

“I’ll hang out here,” you said, as Mindy nodded.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Later that evening after you’d helped the two boys set up their new apartment, you were starting to get hungry. Chad wanted to keep working, and you eventually flopped onto the couch, sighing in defeat.

“I’m starving,” you whined, as Ethan walked into the living room and sat down on the free cushion beside where your feet were resting.

“Me too,” Ethan said, matching your whining as Chad glared at the two of you. “What? It’s been a long day. We skipped lunch.”

“We’ll leave soon,” Chad said, as you got an idea in your head.

“Orrr you could meet us there,” you suggested. “You know how I get if I don’t eat.”

“True,” Chad sighed, “Ethan, make sure nothing happens to her.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight.”

As you walked beside Ethan, he started to make small talk. By the time you made it to the restaurant, you were in a full-blown conversation about all the interests you both had, and he was proud of himself that he didn’t get nervous when he talked to you. You scanned the restaurant for your sister and Tara, but once you noticed they weren’t there yet, you and Ethan sat at one of the tables.

“Do you want to eat now, or wait?” he asked, looking at you from across the table.

“We can eat now, I’m so hungry.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

While you and Ethan ate the pizza that Chad hyped up so much, you were surprised at how good it was. You kept talking to Ethan, but you soon realized how much time had passed, and no one else had showed up to the restaurant.

“Where do you think they are?” you asked, as Ethan sighed.

“Okay, don’t hate me,” he said, as you curiously stared at him. “I kind of wanted to get to know you without your brother and sister making it seem like I was trying to get into your pants.”

“That’s really sweet,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “But if they aren’t here, where are they?”

“They probably went to the one on campus.”

“Did you trick me into going to dinner with you?” you joked, as he started to blush.

“I’ll be honest, I thought they would’ve come to hunt you down by now.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Chad, Mindy, Tara, and who you assumed to be Anika walked in. Chad sighed in relief once he saw you, but Mindy just looked pissed.

“You know how many pizzerias we stopped at to look for you?” she questioned before she looked at Ethan. “Why did you bring her to this one?”

“Simple mistake,” he shrugged, as Mindy stared him down.

“Simple mistake, my ass. I told you Ethan would try something with her.”

“It’s just pizza!” you snapped, “Last time I checked, we weren’t fucking.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped at your words as the waitress brought the check to the table. Ethan took it from her, his mouth still hanging open as he looked at you.

“You want to split it?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“I got it.”

“We’re going back to Tara’s,” Chad said, as you stood up from the table to hug her.

“Hey,” you said, before you turned to Anika. “It’s nice to meet you. Mindy wouldn’t shut up about you all summer.”

“Aww, babe,” she said, pulling Mindy into a side hug.

“Look, as much as I’d love to hang out with you guys, I’m exhausted,” you said, yawning as Chad sighed.

“I really wanted to hang out with Tara.”

“I’ll walk her home,” Ethan suggested, as Mindy, once again, glared at him. “I can drop her off and go to Tara’s after.”

“No, I don’t want her left alone in an area that she doesn’t know,” Chad said, as you rolled your eyes.

“I can stay there with her, then. Seriously, I won’t try anything,” Ethan said, putting his hands up in defeat as Chad nodded.

“I know you won’t, dude. Thanks.”

As you and Ethan made your way out of the restaurant, you heard Mindy scold Chad for being so trusting. But Chad felt like he had no reason to think Ethan would do anything to betray his trust.

Once you got back to the apartment, you were tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. Ethan was about to head to his room before you stopped him.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I thought you were exhausted?” he asked, as he turned around and made his way towards you.

“I just didn’t feel like going with them and being there all night,” you sighed, as he sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Why are you sitting over there?”

“Because if Chad comes home and sees me sitting beside you, I’m sure I’ll be moving out of here into an unmarked grave,” he said, half-joking as you rolled your eyes.

“Please. If it was Mindy, yeah. But Chad, I don’t think so.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, scooting closer to you as he turned on the tv. “You cool with something scary?”

“Mindy’s my sister, what do you think?”

“Scary it is.”

Ethan thought that after sitting through some of the goriest movies ever with the Twins, there was no way that you’d be freaking out over some jump scares. But once you were practically in his lap, your face hiding behind your hands as the scene played out on the screen, he started to laugh to himself.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him. That’s when you realized that you were practically on top of him and went to move, but his arm wrapped around you to hold you in place.

“Your brother and sister don’t get phased by this shit,” he said, smiling down at you. He started to glance between your eyes and your lips, and he was so close to making a move, when a loud shriek on the screen pulled your attention away from him.

“This is one of the few I haven’t seen,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t be so jumpy if you picked something I had seen before.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Ethan chuckled, as you turned your head to look at him again.

“If you want to kiss me, you should probably do it soon. The movie’s almost over,” you said, as he smiled and leaned down.

When his lips touched yours, you felt something different than what you’d usually feel when you’d kiss someone. You immediately felt the chemistry, and with the way his lips were quickly moving with yours, you were sure that he felt it, too.

Once he pulled away to catch his breath, he had a sweet smile on his lips. He definitely didn’t expect to kiss his best friend’s sister, but he was happy that you were bold enough to tell him it was okay. Another thing he didn’t expect was for you to adjust yourself so you were straddling him, as his eyes looked into yours. His hands moved to rest on your thighs as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, it was way more intense. Your hands were in his hair as his hands rested on the curve of your ass to keep you as close as he could.

The second the kiss got deeper, you heard the sound of a key going into the front door.

“Shit,” you said, pulling away and jumping off the couch.

“Wait,” Ethan said, as he followed you. He pulled you in for one more quick kiss before you rushed into Chad’s room and shut the door.

When Ethan walked back out, Chad had just made it to the living room.

“Where were you?” Chad questioned, as Ethan glared at him.

“My room is beside yours. I wasn’t trying anything with your sleeping sister,” Ethan scoffed, as Chad nodded.

“Sorry, dude. I had to listen to Mindy talk about how much she hated the idea of the two of you being here alone.”

“It’s cool, just don’t accuse me of shit you know I wouldn’t do.”

Ethan felt a little guilty for lying to Chad, but you were the first girl that he’d actually felt something for in a long time. After days of stealing quick kisses and steamy make-out sessions whenever Chad was in the shower, the sexual frustration was starting to build. Ethan knew that he wasn’t going to initiate it, because the last thing he wanted was for you to think that was the reason he was spending time with you. Plus, you hadn’t been left alone long enough since the first night.

“So, I think Tara and I are going to a movie tonight. You guys want to come?” Chad asked, as Ethan looked over to you as you sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’m not really in the mood to watch a movie,” you said, as Chad cocked his eyebrow at you.

“You don’t want to watch a movie?” he questioned, as you shook your head. “What about you, Ethan?”

“Dude, spend time with your girlfriend. I’m sure she doesn’t want a third wheel tagging along.”

“Mindy and Anika are going, too. You wouldn’t be a third wheel,” Chad said, as Ethan chuckled.

“Your right, I’d be a fifth wheel. You guys have fun. I’ll probably just play video games all night anyway.”

“Okay, I should be back around eleven,” Chad said, as he made his way towards the apartment door.

As soon as he left, Ethan was on you, literally. You moved so you were laying back as he hovered over you, his mouth moving with yours as your legs wrapped around him.

“Hey, do you want to go to your room?” you asked once he pulled away to breathe.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Within seconds, his feet met the floor, and his hands reached for yours to pull you up. He led you down the hallway to his room, before his lips connected with yours again. He backed you towards the bed, a small squeal slipping past your lips against his as your back hit the comforter. Your legs wrapped around him again, holding him as close to you as you could. One of his hands was running up your side over your shirt, until the material started to ride up. He gave you goosebumps as his fingers moved over the newly exposed flesh, before he pulled away to look at you.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, “Because if you just want to make out, that’s fine. There’s no pressure, and I don’t want you to think that I just want sex.”

”I know you don’t,” you said, smiling at him. “But if the sexual tension get’s any stronger between us and we don’t do something about it, I might actually explode.”

“So, you want sex,” he said, trying his best to not freak out.

“Yeah,” you said, as he leaned back down.

It didn’t take long for his hips to start moving, the hard cock in his sweatpants brushing against you. You gasped into the kiss every time your clit got the smallest amount of friction, before his hand moved in between your bodies so he could rub you over the shorts you were wearing.

“Fuck,” you mumbled against his lips. “You can take those off me, if you want.”

He quickly slid them down your hips before his hand went back in between your legs, rubbing across your soaked panties.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, “Does kissing me do this to you?”

“Yes,” you said, as his lips moved to your neck.

Your bottom lip was in between your teeth as he slid your panties to the side, his finger rubbing slow circles over your clit.

“We’re here alone, baby. Don’t hold those pretty sounds in.”

Soft whimpers were slipping past your lips as his finger moved faster against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your pussy was already drenched, and you felt yourself getting more wet by the second. You whined in protest once he pulled away, but he quickly shut you up, a low moan falling out of your mouth when he easily slid two of his fingers inside you as he moved down the bed.

Your hands tangled in his hair the second his tongue touched your clit, his fingers hitting that special spot inside you. Your hips were involuntarily arching off the bed at the feeling as he struggled to keep you pinned down.

“So good,” you moaned, as he sucked your clit into his mouth. “Fuck.”

Once he started to hum with your clit in his mouth, you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. Your moans kept getting higher and louder, and he made the mental note that he really couldn’t sneak around with you like this if Chad happened to be home, because you were just so loud. He loved it, though. All the noised you were making went straight to his throbbing cock as he brought you closer to the edge. Once your pussy started to squeeze his fingers, he sucked harder on your clit, the feeling throwing you into an intense orgasm. He groaned as your shaky hands tugged on his hair, his fingers slowing as he got you through it.

Once you started to relax, he sat up to look at you as he slowly slid his fingers out. Your cheeks were rosy, your chest was heaving, and you were still a little shaky. He loved that he had that effect on you and couldn’t wait to actually be inside of you.

“Let me help you with your shirt,” he said, as you sat up and looked at him, your eyes still hazy.

“That felt so good,” you finally said, as he chuckled.

“I hope so with how hard you were pulling my hair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly as he shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry, I loved it.”

Once he got you out of your shirt and bra, and he slid his sweatpants down his hips, he walked over to the bedside table to grab a condom.

“You still want to do this, right?” he asked, as you smiled at him.

“Yeah.”

He slid his boxers down his thighs before he rolled the condom on and lined up with your soaked pussy. He took his time as he inched his way inside of you, a loud moan falling past your lips once he was all the way in.

“So fucking tight,” he rushed out, before he started with slow thrusts. “That feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts as he started to go faster.

You knew you were wet, but you could hear how wet you actually were as his cock slid in and out of your pussy. His eyes stayed on you. He didn’t want to miss any of the faces you were making.

“Can I be on top?” you asked, as he smirked at you.

“Yeah, babe,” he said, as he pulled out and laid down.

You got up and moved to straddle him, the whimpers flooding out of your mouth as you sank down onto him.

Ethan felt like he was in heaven as his hands held onto your hips. He had the perfect view of your face, your tits, and he could even see his cock sliding in and out of you. Your hands moved to rest against his chest so you could stabilize yourself as you rolled your hips, the tip of his cock giving your g-spot the attention it needed.

“Come here,” he said, as you leaned down, your bare chest pressing against his. You felt his hands snake around you to hold you close before his hips started to move, his cock thrusting in and out of you so quick that you couldn’t think straight. He was letting out soft grunts that could barely be heard over your moans. You were both getting sweaty as you clung to him, his pace not letting up as you felt yourself start to get close.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whined, as you felt that white-hot feeling spreading across your body, your hands gripping him as he just kept fucking up into you.

“I’m almost there, baby.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but he went even faster. You were a moaning mess as he kept slamming his cock into you, before his thrusts got erratic.

“Cumming,” he groaned, as you slowly moved back to meet his thrusts as he got himself through it. “Fuck, that was…fuck.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled against his chest.

He slid out of you but held you close for a few minutes, his hands rubbing over your back as you both caught your breath.

That’s when you heard other voices inside the apartment. You shot up, your eyes looking down to meet Ethan’s panicked ones.

“Where are they?” Mindy asked, the annoyance in her tone obvious as you and Ethan jumped up to grab your clothes off the floor.

Ethan quickly took the condom off and slid his boxers on as you tried to put your clothes back on. It was too late, though, once his bedroom door eased open.

“Hey, dude,” Chad said, before closing the door once he noticed Ethan was just in his boxers. “Shit, sorry.”

Chad was embarrassed as he turned to look at Mindy before he realized something. Your shorts were on Ethan’s bedroom floor.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Chad’s voice boomed once he opened the door. This time he was able to see you, but you’d just slid your shorts back up over your hips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He walked over to Ethan and grabbed him by the shirt he was able to put on in those few seconds, and you could see the fear in Ethan’s eyes as he looked over to you.

“Don’t fucking look at her!” Chad yelled, as Mindy finally walked into the room.

“Told you her staying here was a mistake,” she said, as Chad got angrier by the second.

“I didn’t think that my best friend couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Stop, seriously. You guys are making this more than it needs to be,” you said, as Chad looked over to you. “Calm down, Chad. He’s your best friend.”

“Last time I checked, friends don’t sleep with their friend’s sister!” he yelled, before he looked back at Ethan. “I can’t fucking believe you did this.”

“Why are you acting like I had no part in this?” you asked, as Mindy scoffed.

“Yeah, right. I’m sure Ethan charmed you out of your panties just to get what he wanted.”

“That’s not true!” Ethan snapped, his fear of Chad kicking his ass turning to anger as his friend finally let go of his shirt. “I really like her. This has nothing to do with me just wanting to sleep with her.”

“She’s my baby sister, Ethan!”

“Stop calling me that,” you sighed in frustration. “I’m a year younger than you. I’m a legal adult. Nothing Ethan and I did is wrong aside from you two saying that he needed to keep his distance from me.”

“He obviously doesn’t listen,” Mindy said, as you felt yourself start to get mad.

“You know what really fucking sucks? You two are my best friends, but you won’t let me live. You won’t let me experience things. You know Ethan’s not a bad person…you know how bad I’ve wanted to hang out with him and get to know him better, but you guys won’t let that happen.” you ranted, “I like him, too. And if I want to be with him, you aren’t going to tell me that I can’t! You better not threaten him anymore, either. I’m sick of this childish shit.”

Your sibling stared at you as Chad nodded in understanding. He had no problem intimidating any of the boys that’d shown interest in you, but out of the two of them, he was the one that seemed to be the one that got you.

“I do really like her. I don’t want us to have to sneak around, but I’ll keep doing it, if I have to,” Ethan said, smiling at you. “She’s amazing. It’d be stupid of me to not want a chance with her.”

“Do we have to sneak around? Or can you guys be cool about it?” you asked, as Chad sighed.

“I’m cool with it. Just…no hooking up when I’m here.”

“You’re okay with this?” Mindy scoffed, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“Ethan’s not a bad person. If he really likes her, what’s the big deal?”

“And that’s why he’s my favorite,” you said, brushing past them to head to the bathroom.

“Told you,” Chad said, teasingly pointing at Mindy before she smacked his hand away. “Ow!”

“Ethan, you better not hurt her,” Mindy scolded, as he nodded.

“I won’t…but can you guys get out while I put my pants back on?”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

[xspeter]

LOML

luke castellan x fem!reader

angst, angst, angst. mini blurb to help me get my flow back :) based off of LOML by Taylor Swift.

Percy Jackson isn’t sure what’s worse. Luke’s betrayal, or the look on your face when you find out. He’s sure he’ll get nightmares about it.

You’d had a wide smile on your face, the woven flower crown in your hair hinting that you’d just been out at the flower fields with your siblings.

You’d been called to help patch up Percy after what you had been told was a fight, but the somber energy in the room immediately told you something was off. It was too suspicious to have Chiron, Mr. D, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover all in the room for what was supposed to simply be slapping on a band-aid.

The smile on your face fell, and was instead replaced with a subtle frown. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably. “Is something wrong?” You asked, eyeing everyone in the room.

Percy swallowed and hesitantly glanced to Annabeth, who already had the remnants of tears in her eyes. And if the glossiness told him anything, it was that she was about to burst out crying again. Not that he could blame her.

He watched your frown grow as recognition flashed across your face. You and Luke always had been so in tune to each others emotions, he’s honestly surprised you didn’t notice the lack of his presence earlier.

“Y/N-” Chiron started, but you interrupted him. “Where’s Luke?”

Silence.

Percy didn’t believe in soulmates. It’s weird, because after finding out about greek gods and mythological beings being real, you’d think soulmates wouldn’t be that far off the table. But, they were.

But you and Luke had something Percy could tell was special. It wasn’t just a relationship - it was like a sacred bond bestowed upon the two of you by the gods themselves. Wherever Luke was, you’d be sure to follow, and vice versa. Fuck, you’d practically finish each other’s sentences as corny as that sounded.

That’s why he was so confused Luke would throw it all away so easily.

“Y/N…” Mr. D started, and Percy was sure it was the most emotion he’d ever even seen from him. You immediately began shaking your head, hands trembling as you stared at the ground. “Where is he?” You questioned again.

More silence followed, and Percy knew no one wanted to answer you, and he could understand why. Still, he took a breath and forced himself to look up at you. “He’s gone.”

It was like the five stages of grief flashed in your eyes simultaneously - merging together but still so distinguishable.

“No, he’s not.” You whimpered, “He’s in his cabin. I just saw him barely an hour ago-”

“He tried to kill Percy,” Annabeth finally breathed out. “He wants to overthrow the gods.”

You shook your head, a disbelieving laugh leaving your lips as you ran a trembling hand through your hair, moving up the white flower crown until it was lopsided on your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said through gritted teeth, “Luke wouldn’t do that. I know him. I know him. He wouldn’t. It must’ve been- been a shapeshifter or something. I mean, with all the other monsters out there there has to be a shapeshifter right? Yeah. That’s all it was. It wasn’t Luke.”

Percy squeezed the table in front of him until his knuckles were white, doing his best to choke down his tears. It was a tempting idea, one that he’d have no problem believing if it hadn’t been for the look in Luke’s eyes. No monster could recreate that kind of rage.

“It was him,” Percy spoke up, “I know it was.”

“You don’t know anything!” You yelled, eyes wild and skin paling, “You don’t know Luke like I do! He wouldn’t do this! Sure, he gets mad at the gods sometimes, but don’t we all? It doesn’t mean we’re gonna up and start a whole rebellion!”

Grover attempted to reach out to you, tears forming in his dark eyes, “I know it’s hard-” He attempted, but you practically jumped away from him. “Don’t touch me.” You growled lowly, pointing an accusing finger in his face. Grover didn’t argue.

Everyone in the room stared at you in pity, and it made you sick. You’d show them. Luke was in his cabin right now, probably trying to sleep or playing with one of the younger campers. Because that’s what Luke does - that’s the Luke you know.

You were the love of his life. He’d told you just two days ago during a secret picnic on the beach way past your curfew. You’d choked up, but told him the same through your tears. Luke had kissed you so hard you swore you were seeing stars, and you remember thinking this kiss had felt different than all the others. Almost desperate, like he was trying to grasp onto something he knew he was losing.

No.

Luke was in his cabin.

You’d left the Big House without even a grunt, practically sprinting across camp to the Hermes cabin. You didn’t care about the weird looks the stragglers were giving you, didn’t care about the soft ache in your legs. You needed to see Luke. Needed to feel him. Needed to intertwine your souls again.

You were panting by the time you reached it, throwing the doors open and looking around wildly. “Luke?” You called, voice breaking a bit as you did.

“Y/N?” someone said, you didn’t know their name. Or maybe you did. You honestly couldn’t remember right now, the only thing running through your mind was Luke.

“Have you seen Luke?” You asked.

The camper shook her head, blonder hair falling in front of her face as she did. “Hey, are you okay-”

You were gone before she could even finish her sentence. You spent hours searching for him, like he was a pair of house keys you’d lost and desperately needed in order to go home.

The moon was high into the sky by the time you stop, your vision blurry with tears and muscles burning. You’d even prayed to your father at some point - which was something you rarely ever did.

You fall to your knees in the grass, hand clutching at the golden bracelet on your wrist. Like had given it to you two nights ago on the beach, embroided in it were the letters “LOML.”

He’dtold you it was because you were the love of his life, but right now in this moment, with your chest puffing and knees weak, you think it may stand for something else.

Because while you may be the love of Luke Castellan’s life, he was the loss of yours.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood #chiron #mr. d #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #angst #percy jackson fanfic #x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #loml #loml taylor swift

[golden1u5t]

he’s clueless. | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: @reidsdaisies

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: your boy is a genius but when it comes to sex, he's absolutely clueless.

you and spencer were on the bed having an intense make out, he was underneath you gently rutting his hips up into your clothed core while you sat on top of him. he let out a whine of protest when you pulled away from his kiss swollen lips but only to let out a soft whimper when your lips come in contact with the heated skin on his pulse point.

his hips were still occasionally rutting up but he thrust up particularly hard when he felt you start to nip at his skin. "'m sorry-i've never really done this before. well, maybe twice before this but it didn't turn out to good. i don't think she really-"

you cut off his rambling with a soft kiss on his lips before you sat up completely. "it's okay, spence. just- women don't usually like to hear about your times with other women while in the middle of trying to do it."

"im sorry, im just really nervous." his heart started to beat faster than it already was as he stared up at you, thinking that he'd just ruined the moment. spencer hadn't been with enough women to know the proper way of doing things. he didn't know what things to say and what things not to say but it seemed like with every women he's ever tried to peruse, he only ever said the wrong things and it caused them to lose interest.

"i was just teasing you, honey." you laugh softly and place your hand on his reddened cheek, swiping your thumb lovingly over his skin. "we don't have to do this if you're not ready, you know."

you had only been together for about four months and sex wasn't something that came up until now, you didn't want him to feel obligated or feel like he was being rushed into this. spencer didn't feel that way though, he wanted to have sex with you but he was just so inexperienced and the thought of you not enjoying yourself like he would caused him to become even more nervous about the whole thing.

"¡ am ready, i promise." he rushed out, his eyes meeting yours. you paused for a moment to give him time to back out if he wanted to, he never did. you nodded your head once you were sure he was being honest and pulled your hand away from his face, you grabbed the hem of your tank top and pulled it over your head.

spencer's gaze dropped to your chest as soon as your shirt was off and the small blush that was only on his cheeks spread across his whole face, if you didn't know any better you'd think it was his first time seeing a woman topless. he sat up as you moved off of his lap and pulled your shorts off. spencer watched you earnestly until you hooked your fingers into the waistband of your panties, he reached out to stop you from pulling them off.

"can i do it?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from your body and back to your eyes.

"you want to take them off for me?" you masked the surprise on your face when he nodded his head and pulled your hands away. you laid back against the pillows and gestured for him to come between your legs.

spencer slotted himself between your legs and tentatively placed his hands on your thighs, he looked up at you for confirmation before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and started to pull them down your legs. a barely audible gasp fell from his lips at the sight of your pussy, pretty and slick just for him.

it took him a moment to regain focus but once he did he started to undress himself, starting with his shirt and working down to his boxers. you noticed the slight tremble in his hands so you reached forward and helped him push them down his thighs, he did the rest in getting them off.

"god, spencer, you're huge." you mumbled, propping yourself up on your elbows and wrapping your hand around his cock.

"do you think- will it fit?" his hips jerked forward when you swiped your thumb over the leaking tip, his eyes wide as he watched you practically drool over it. spencer had never had someone look at him the way you were looking at him now, it was the first time he actually felt wanted and it was causing a swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

"we'll make it fit." you let go of his cock and lifted your gaze to his eyes. you laid back onto the bed and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into your body. "ready?"

spencer eagerly nodded his head and pressed your lips together, reaching between your bodies and guiding his cock through your folds. the small moans you were letting out against his lips each time his tip bumped against your clit gave him the confidence to keep going, he finally lined himself up with your entrance and started to push forward.

you pulled away from his lips to give him a gentle reminder to go slow, to which you only got a broken gasp and a nod in response. he lowered himself down so your chest were flush together as he bottomed out. he tucked his head in the crook of your neck as your hand went into his hair.

there was a moment of silence before spencer pulled his hips back and carefully thrust back in, he was just testing the waters but the way you tugged at his hair and let out a soft moan let him know that he was in the clear to do it again.

it took some time to get settled into a good pace but once he did, you could swear that it was the best thing you'd ever felt. even with how inexperience he was he still managed to hit all the right spots without you having to direct him much. maybe he was good at it because he spent most his time reading and a few anatomy books had gotten thrown in the mix somewhere or because he learned from his mistakes the few other times he's done it. either way he was the best you'd had in a while.

even though you'd hardly gotten started, spencer could feel himself slipping off the edge. "i can't last, im so close." maybe he should've been embarrassed to admit he was going to cum so soon but he couldn't find it in him to care when you felt so good around him.

"it's okay, just- fuck- just keep going." you moaned out, reached down to hold his hips and try to keep the rhythm going as his thrusts started to falter. spencer grunted and whined against your clammy skin as he felt his cock start to twitch, his head getting hazier with each thrust he dealt to your throbbing cunt.

you spread your legs wider and held his hips into you as you felt his cum filling your walls, he held his breath as the knot in his stomach unraveled. a few seconds later he sucked in a sharp breath and started back thrusting into you on his own, despite the pinpricks of overstimulation.

he was determined to make you cum around his cock even if the line between pain and pleasure started to blur.

#spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

[maiiuelle]

˚❀˚

as we all know, jj is not a fan of cops. so, you can imagine how angry he’d be getting a call that you’re locked up.

it's sort of a game of telephone actually. you called kiara from the jail, pleading with her not to tell jj knowing how he'd react. but, with her parents grounding her from any more involvement in pogue business, she didn't really have a choice. so, she told pope, who immediately told jj.

luckily, your offense wasn't serious, you'd been having a bad day already and decided to go on an innocent bike ride. jj was kind enough to have slipped a joint into your backpack for an occasion like this, which you happily lit up to get your mind off of everything. your mistake was riding through the rich side of the island, some kook must've seen you and called the station to complain about who-knows-what, and the smell of weed sticking to your skin made it easier for shoupe to find you. you complied, letting him haul you in the back of his cruiser while he lectured you about drug possession and public intoxication. must be a slow day.

now you're sat in the lobby of the police station, hands bound together in metal cuffs, resting in your lap. you're barely high anymore, the light feeling in your head replaced by irritation. you hear jj before you see him, and the sound of his booming voice makes your heart sink.

"where d'ya even have her? huh, plumb?" you squeeze your eyes shut, the heat of his anger growing closer and closer.

"you need to relax, maybank." she hisses, rounding the corner before him and stopping at the sight of you. she crosses her arms, almost amused. "she's right here."

your blonde boyfriend stomps in after her, wide eyes searching the room before landing on you. he's disheveled, clearly having been in a rush to get here. you don't know what to do other than to stare back at him doe eyed. deputy plumb comes to your side and hoists you to stand with a hand on your arm, spinning you roughly so she can start to unlock the cuffs.

“alright—let’s make this quick.” shoupe’s voice draws everyone’s attention, a stack of papers in his hands that he offers to jj. “i’m doin’ her a favor, just a written warning.”

jj snatches the papers from him, superficially looking them over and then using them to point at the deputy. “you’re outta your mind, shoupe. i can’t believe—“

“i suggest—“ shoupe cuts him off, and jj’s jaw clenches. “—you kids get on home now. we’ve got some real work to do.”

deputy plumb lets you go, clipping the cuffs to her belt and nudging you toward jj. “and keep the dope on the cut.” you look back at her, keeping your mouth shut as you slink over to jj’s side.

“can count on kildare P.D., ain’t that right?” jj keeps his eyes on the officers, face red with anger as he adjusts his hat and starts walking toward the door. you stick close to him, feeling better attached to his side even if he’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “pickin’ on teenage girls — real tough, shoupe. pretty sure y’all got bigger fish to fry, maybe focus on that.”

on the way out of the station, he’s silent. he doesn’t look at you or say a word until you reach the twinkie, where john b is sitting patiently in the driver’s seat. you feel real bad now, realizing you brought everyone into this mess that you could have easily avoided. jj stops at the front of the van, and you follow suit, anxiously biting your lip.

“jayj, i really didn’t mean to cause a whole—“

“nobody’s upset, sugar. relax.” he takes a second to look you over, running his hands down your arms and scanning over your body. “didn’t rough you up in there, did they?”

you shake your head. “oh, no. i’m fine.”

“good.” he brushes your hair over your shoulder, letting his hand linger by your jaw to pull you into a kiss. “least y’got a little street cred now, huh?” a warm smile spreads across his face. you’re relieved, in the end really grateful that your boyfriend came to save the day.

˚❀˚

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[claypgeons]

maybeeeee hotchner with a reader who is afraid to sleep in the dark? suddenly the lights went out and there's a storm outside!

summary: aaron comforts you through a power outage

cw: reader had phobia of the dark, fem!reader

Having a phobia of the dark was something you were no longer ashamed of. You have grown to understand that it was part of you, but you also understood that you should try to get better if you could, not for anyone else, but for you. 

And after years of therapy, and trying new stuff. You could now sleep in the dark, as long as you had a small bedlamp, illuminating your face. It may not seem like much, but compared to years ago, when you couldn’t fall asleep unless all the lights in your house were turned on, it was a huge accomplishment. 

And to be completely honest, you would not have been able to do it without your husband, Aaron. You and Aaron had only been married a year but had been together for five. And throughout your whole process, he had been nothing short of supportive. Never once did he make you feel ashamed, pressure you into sleeping with the lights off, or complain about the lights being on while he slept.

You yawned, flipping the page of your book, ignoring the loud banging of trees outside. That was, until you heard an extra loud bang, and then the lights went off. You shut your eyes tightly, feeling that uncertainty in your chest, don’t open your eyes, you told yourself. That’ll just make it worse. 

You didnt know how long you sat there, your heart beating out of your chest, Aaron was in his office, finishing the paperwork, and you wanted nothing more than his arms wrapped around you. But the fear consumed you entirely, and you couldn’t even open your mouth to let out a scream. Thankfully, Aaron knew you better than anyone. 

He ran into your shared room, frowning at the sight of your eyes shut hard. “Honey?” he whispered trying not to scare you, he quietly walked over to the curtains, and pulled them open so the soft moonlight light could seep into the room, before walking over to your bed, where your eyes were still tightly shut.

“I opened the windows,” he sat behind you, pulling you into his arms, where you instantly stuffed your face into his chest. “Do you want me to try to turn the power back on?” Thankfully, Jack was at a sleepover tonight, so he didnt have to see you so broken down.

“No!” you gushed out, holding onto him tighter. 

“Okay, okay.” Aaron placed a kiss on your head, holding you tighter each time the thunder made you flinch, “I’m right here okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron h #aaron hotch fanfiction