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qslovebot · 3 years

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KISS FOR YOUR LIFE: SPENCER REID

Summary: A BAU case leads the reader to take on an undercover role to flush out a ten-person mafia. Before the work can begin, things go awry and the reader has to improvise and pretend to seduce Spencer to keep her cover and arrest the real unsub.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/includes: talk of murder, mentions of sex, suggested past experiences with misogyny, suggestive jokes, unsub is a radical feminist, swearing, arrests, guns, making out, sort of fluffy end.

Word Count: 4159

A/N: Written like an episode. I removed Rossi so... AU? First actual fanfic on here, tell me what you think?

Today was your first official day at the BAU, switching from two floors down as an underestimated agent to upstairs, with the Big League. Agent Hotchner decided he needed new, young-minded blood. He was notorious for picking the best of the best and after an intimidating interview with him and his brooding questions, he decided he wanted you on his team.

You had been here before, of course. You frequently visited the ever-chatting Penelope Garcia for lunch, sometimes in her office, sometimes heading downstairs for a slice of pizza or a salad. She vented about her issues, while you talked about the constant misogyny that ran through the men on your floor. She was five years older than you and decided that as your 'elder' she would put on the angry soccer mom look and kick their asses. But, lucky for you, two floors upward, the men didn't act like children on the job, so Garcia could keep her regular look.

Here it was, glass entrance, high ceilings. The air smelled like paper and was filled with a fresh sort of low mumbling and the small clicks of the keyboards. A semi-fresh start. Today you would organize your new desk, sort files, meet the others...

"Agent (Y/L/N), we have a case in Boston, we will be briefed on the jet. Get your things ready, we leave in twenty-five minutes," Agent Hotchner said as he walked by. He didn't stop for a single second, those dark dress shoes clomping heavily to the desks of your new fellow agents to inform them as well. So much for your plans.

Not wanting to appear unready, you rushed to set your things down and grab the few things you needed for the case. Hotchner had said always bring three spare outfits rolled to the smallest packing size possible, toiletries (toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, and feminine hygiene products) as well as one extra pair of shoes. Those were already packed into a small bag, so in with those went your notebook, pens, and highlighter. You came prepared, so in no time, you were on the jet for the first time, exhilarated.

A hand was extended to you when you took your seat. It belonged to a man with caramel skin and a dazzling smile, "You must be (Y/L/N). The name is Derek Morgan." Anyone who used 'the name is' seemed like they felt superior in some way. It was used in the media to introduce someone of importance. 'The name is Bond, James Bond', ran through your head as you gratefully shook his hand.

"My name is Emily Prentiss and I... didn't quite catch your first name," a woman with a v-neck sweater also reached to shake your hand. "I think I may have heard it, but I must have forgotten."

"(Y/N)," you replied with a small smile. It felt nice to be greeted with kind eyes, rather than greedy ones. "It's not a very memorable name, don't worry."

Emily looked apologetic, but soon reverted to her previous smile. I was greeted by the blonde woman across the aisle, too far to shake my hand. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, I'm the media liaison, but you can call me JJ, everyone does. It's really great to meet you- for a moment I thought Penelope had made up a friend as a result of too many hours in front of a screen."

You laughed a little, ruffling your hair. She seemed outgoing, but I had already started profiling Derek Morgan and I wanted to stop there. Agent Hotchner sat down with someone I had never noticed on my visits to Penelope. I had noticed everyone else here on this jet at least once before, but... not him. How had you missed him?

He stood at about six-one, maybe six-two? He was thin, much the opposite to Morgan's greatly muscular arms. This man was calm-looking, quiet. His clothes said that maybe he was meticulous and orderly- he looked like the kind of person who didn't own a single pair of sweatpants. His face was chiselled, with a sharp jawline and cheekbones that carved the shadows on his face. His eyes, however, were much softer. Long eyelashes and dark eyes made them bigger, but they were slightly blocked by bronze-toned brown curls that at the end of his combed and gelled hair, wrapped around his jaw, neck, and face.

He was beautiful, if you were entirely frank with yourself.

And he didn't even notice you were there until Hotchner nudged his arm in a way that said 'say hello' the same way one would introduce two toddlers. You were sure you weren't a toddler and nor was this man, but it appeared you both may have been the youngest there.

When he looked your way, you wanted to look away, but couldn't. He seemed surprised to see you there and you were trying to play off the staring by introducing yourself. "Hi, I'm SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I don't think we've met, it's nice to meet you." You extended your hand and he just shook his head no, his lips pressing into a tight line.

He didn't shake hands, you realized. Probably a slight germophobe. You cleared your throat, "I'm sorry if that was an uncomfortable gesture, I didn't know." Humiliating.

The tall man opened his mouth to say something, shut his mouth, opened it again but then turned a little pink and sat down immediately next to Hotchner and stared at his hands that were folded in his lap. You had thought you nailed pretty much every introduction, but this one? Fuck.

You reverted back to your business with a sigh, patting your knees. It felt like you had somehow lost something. JJ whispered to you, silently pointing to the tall man, "Dr. Spencer Reid, human encyclopedia, dictionary, and knows pretty much everything." You nodded a thank you and she nodded back.

Derek Morgan, however, tapped Emily Prentiss on the shoulder and mumbled, "Reid did his 'pretty-girl-freakout'."

Emily gasped, "Oh, he did!

The two seemed to have forgotten you were in front of them and they noticed your confusion in unison, both of them freezing up and chuckling nervously. You smiled an extremely awkward smile and left thinking about Dr. Spencer Reid for later as you got to the case.

This was about a female mafia boss who seemed to take on the personality, style, and characteristics of the taste of rich men and kill them after having sex with them. The woman was reported and seen by one witness to see her and that was the only person outside of this mafia who had seen her face, so they were working with the sketch artist and would have the picture ready and accurate upon our arrival.

Victimology was simple, she was after men who had too much power. She probably identified with being a radical feminist. She was after their money and had sex with them to dethrone them on the way. Possibly bordered on a personality disorder considering she seemed to be entirely all-in to her 'disguises'.

The funniest thing was the way they all looked at you when you announced those lines. Perhaps you would work yourself out of the 'child' stage faster than you thought.

The BAU hit the precinct in much less time than I had expected and on the ground, running. You were immediately given things to do and you were on top of it all, every order. That was until the drawing of the Mafia leader AKA 'The Seductress' was pulled up and the whole BAU gasped at how she looked EXACTLY like you.

"Do I need my cuffs?" Morgan joked. You had covered your mouth in disbelief and the rest of the room was doing double-takes.

You laughed nervously, "I swear... that isn't me, but oh my god..." Morgan was laughing and Emily and JJ whispering and had confused smiles. Spencer Reid stood in the corner, his hand on his cheek, seemingly studying the photo. He looked statue-like, borderline godly.

"Can this be used to our advantage?" Hotch launched back into technical thinking, brow furrowed. You looked at him, mouth open, but immediately shut it out of professionalism. What was going on in his head?

Reid spoke up, "If we position her just right and at the right time in one of the hotspots for that group, we can possibly get her to somehow trick the other members into some sort of turn-in."

Her. Indirect. Did you do something wrong?

"Or a simple appearance could start gossip and a possible flock to where she was spotted. As long as people aren't seeing double or reaching to do so, she can play as The Seductress." Emily said, looking at you. "Are you up to try, (Y/L/N)?"

All eyes on you. Your first day turned to chaos. But this was your job and you would prove your place here. So you agreed and in a whisk of an afternoon, you were transformed into the mirror image of The Seductress while you were talked through the plan through a radio. Turned out, so prove a professional place, you needed to make yourself look ridiculously unprofessional.

Pinned up hair, dark cat eye makeup, a dress similar to hers that happened to be on hand. Long, deep red, with a long slit up the side and your tits were practically falling out of it, but the dress fit and they were secure, so you dealt with it. There was no other space for a gun other than the side of your thigh where The Seductress kept hers knife. Now, you had to get going, meaning you had to face the BAU in the getup.

When you walked out, Derek Morgan hooted and whistled and Emily gave him a look that said 'oh lord' like an annoyed sibling. You smiled a little and essentially just kept walking, figuring if you moved, it would give them less time to stare at your tits.

Turning the corner, you noticed that Dr.Spencer Reid was much redder than he had been earlier on the jet. So maybe he really did think you were pretty. You caught yourself smiling at the thought, but shook your head free of any ideas. Professional! No crushes on Spencer Reid!

You arrived near the scene, dropped off by Hotchner. "You know what to do. Reid will be going with you to the crateyard, he will also be nearby when you head in. If you see The Seductress, do not make the arrest. If you can, lure her."

You nodded. Wow, first time in the field with the BAU and you had the leading role. No pressure, no pressure, just... everyone depending on you. But the pressure came back when you realized you had heard right and Reid was going with you, alone. You had done really well with the job so far today, minus finding the tall doctor extremely attractive. He came to stand beside you and since he was much taller than you were, you were sure he could look right down your dress without even trying. Not like anyone had to try, but he had the upper hand.

You ached to cover yourself, but that was a major risk. The Seductress was confident, she wouldn't cover-up. You got into the tinted car with Reid, him in the driver's seat and you in the passenger's seat. Silence crept up, but he turned the engine over and headed east to where the mafia was to meet up.

"Some first day," you mumbled nervously.

Reid seemed to think you had said something to him and he talked to you directly for what seemed like the first time. "P-pardon?" He had a stutter when talking to you and to be honest it was cute but there was no time to crush!

"Oh, I was just remarking to myself on how this is my first day and I'm already... so... out there." You sighed and pat your knees. The jitters crept up, but so did butterflies. "Nervous, I'm nervous."

He looked over and swallowed hard, so hard it was audible. Was he fighting the same urge to be friendlier or was he just fighting the urge to look at your tits like a twelve-year-old boy would? Either way, you were glad he was with you. He smelled like books, leather, and cologne and it was oddly calming.

You reached the other side of the crateyard in a few more minutes and he handed you your gun, which you shoved into the holster on your thigh. "You're going without a vest so... k-keep focused," Spencer said- and it seemed like he had so many words jumbled on the tip of his tongue, but refused to say them. You thought he was afraid to annoy you, as you knew he liked to give lengthy explanations. "I'll be behind, uh- the crates."

You smiled at him and watched him look away, his curls falling in his face. God, he was so gorgeous. If this went wrong, you were glad you would go with that shy look of his in the front of your mind. He pulled on his vest and you put out a hand and stopped him. "If they see you with the vest at all, in any way, they'll know what's happening."

He nodded, keeping his eyes from yours as he pulled on a plain black jacket over the vest. For a genius, he seemed to have his mind a little fuzzy tonight. In the dark of the night, the only lights were flickering lamps on high-beamed poles. Your heart was beating hard as you waited for the signal to begin to move.

"G-good luck," Spencer's words fumbled out of his mouth and I looked at him for a moment where he looked right back at you. He chewed on his bottom lip, eyelids fluttering as you tried to look anywhere else and there it was- the radio signal. The tension that was there in that brief moment defused. You gave him a small smile before opening the car door and standing tall, in the aura of The Seductress.

Spencer waited until you were out between the crates to leave the car. You heard the door shut gently behind you, but his footsteps were silent. Much quicker than you thought, there was a gruff voice that didn't belong to Spencer. "My lady, may I say what an honour it is to have you join us this evening." You spun to face a man in a dark suit. You didn't have The Seductress's voice, so you nodded in the most gracious way you could.

"Bernard and Lolita are waiting inside the abandoned building for the small exchange as well as the rest of us, but Mamacita... you're being tailed by the FBI." He said, pointing to the crate that hid Dr. Spencer Reid. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I'll go kill him for you!"

So flat out, he wanted to kill Spencer Reid, a rotting smile on his face as if it was an act of kindness. He knew Spencer was there, he saw... but you weren't busted? God, this man was stupid.

"No," you said, in a quiet, yet strong voice, grabbing the gruff man by the shoulder pad. "He is my kill."

The man grinned an evil grin and you did your best to smile evilly in return. You showed him your gun and he rubbed his palms together. "The gluck and Glock," he chuckled. "Can I watch?"

He thought you were going to fuck and kill Spencer. Your heart skipped a beat and you tried hard not to show it. Oh no... how to work your way out of this... Spencer couldn't help you. Or... could he?

You glared at the man, "No, but I know that his team is on the way. Get Bernard, Lolita, and anyone else in on the next killings from that abandoned building and run straight west. Do not stop. I will catch up to you once I'm finished with the agent here." You improvised the best you could and this stupid man bought it. Little did he know that the team was stationed Westbound.

"Got it," his face was dazed and malevolent. "But I'm not leaving until I know you've got this handled, my lady."

"You question my skill?" You shot back, still acting.

He looked scared for a moment, "No, not at all, I just... You're a lot shorter than I was expecting."

You stared daggers, "And you insult me?"

"Just wanted to know you had it covered... in case something is fishy here..." was he really catching on or was he confused and just running through the precautions?

Fuck, you had been so focused on the cover you forgot you were a profiler. This man was small-minded, probably brought into this ordeal through family ties. Since he was so stupid, he was trusted with less... hence why he was outside the building as the lookout, rather than in on the meeting.

Why he wouldn't leave- he was so incapable of proper interaction he had never had the chance to be with a woman. Watching was the only way he would ever see. He was stupid and he was stubborn. He was not going to leave until he saw the beginning.

The best thing would be to let him stay for proof. "Fine. But when I give you my look, you run and get everyone running straight West." You narrowed your eyebrows at him and he looked like he was going to sweat out of his skin. But... this meant...

You had a few seconds, you rushed over to behind the crate to where Spencer stood, his gun in hand. "W-what are you-" he questioned in a whisper-yell.

"He's onto me, I need you to go along with this- can I kiss you, Dr.Reid?" You whispered back. His eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed pink. Once again, being professional called for being unprofessional. You really didn't want to kiss him- at least not now, not like this. He wouldn't speak and the mafia man was coming. "Reid, if I don't do this, he won't flush the group West and we'll both be shot and if not shot, targeted by a mafia!"

"Y-yes!" he practically squeaked, his back to the crate he was hiding behind. This really was the only way- this other man would not be talked down, because he was taught to just shoot, rather than listen and understand. "I'm sorry if I-"

You cut him off by reaching up, grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him. It took him a moment, but he kissed back. You could feel the heat off of his cheeks. The first day on the job, you had embarrassed yourself, gotten dressed like a Mafia killer, played the part, and now you were kissing Dr.Spencer Reid in a crateyard... and he was surprisingly not a bad kisser. He was a little sloppy the first few seconds but moments later, he figured it out. His one hand went on your jaw, the other on your waist, both of them shaking. You could tell that the shaking wasn't because the man watching you both right now had a gun, it was you.

You were making out with him, hard. Your body was pressed to his tightly against the crate and Spencer was holding you there. Your hands were still gripping his shirt. Messy altogether but your lips met in every perfect way. It was good, but for work. This was when you knew to stop- you had convinced the other man. You pulled away, turned your head and mouthed to the mafia man, 'GO' and he ran.

Now things would be extremely awkward. You pushed yourself away from Spencer whose hands stayed on your waist and face until you were entirely out of his reach. You laughed anxiously and he stood there, hands behind his back. That was... that was wow, but... it was for the case. For the case.

It was time to get moving. Spencer knew it, you knew it. The real Seductress was on her way. You turned your head over your shoulder and he was moving slowly, head down. You fought off a small smile. He was entirely red, gun still held loosely in his hand.

You turned your head and were met by a sharp blow to the face. Both of you had let your guard down. Stupid.

"I don't like impostors," said the female voice that was the source of the blow. Hell, it was her. Spencer clocked his gun into place and you turned, elbowing The Seductress in the chest. She returned with another hard blow that you ducked, spinning around her and kicking the back of her leg. She recovered quickly and shot up, punching you in the stomach. You lost your breath for a second and she took the opportunity to punch you in the jaw and pull a knife.

"Put the knife down!" Spencer called. His voice was stronger facing a woman with a sharp knife than it was when talking to you alone. "I know who you are, you want what's right for women, correct?"

The Seductress narrowed her eyes at him like her next meal, leaving you on the ground. Would Spencer shoot if she threw that knife? Odd she didn't have a gun on her. She must have been relying on the others for more protection. You stood up quietly, watching her slowly advance on Spencer. He had your lipstick smeared over his lips, he looked rough, but he held his gun out in front of him and had the other hand up to reason with her. "Men like you think yourselves above women. You, FBI, you think yourself better than men and women alike because you're the authority. Tell me, how do you like your women, Agent?"

He gulped, eyes flickering to you. You pulled out your gun. "I think... I think I'm a weak man and I'm no better than anyone. I don't deserve women." Spencer said, looking at the evil lady. In person, she looked a lot less like you.

"Lies. It's the instinct of men to feel superior to women. You'll have a lot less instinct when you're dead!" She snarled, lunging at him with her blade out. You pulled the trigger, she fell to the ground. Not dead, but wounded to pass out. Spencer narrowly jumped out of her way, watching her knife clatter to the ground.

You looked up at Spencer, bewildered. You had done it. You saved the case, took down a murderous mafia boss. It was only when Spencer pointed at your face and said, "Y-you're bleeding, (Y/N), are you okay?"- that you noticed your cut lip and the blood pouring from your forehead. But you also noticed he called you by your first name.

He reached a hand forward but retracted it when you winced from the sudden pain. Adrenaline took the pain away temporarily, you supposed. There were still things to be done. Spencer called for backup and a medic and watched as you cuffed the woman. She wasn't going to die, but she did need help.

Once medics arrived, Spencer drove you both back to the Westward situation, where ten arrests had been made. You were in a state of haze, so how Spencer's jacket got around your shoulders was a mystery. When you stepped out of the car, you were greeted by the rest of the agents.

"Are you okay?!" Prentiss was the first to greet you both. She grabbed you by the shoulders and looked at the nearly-dried blood on your skin. "We got worried when you didn't follow soon after, you got her?"

"Yeah," you smiled tiredly.

She grinned back. "Fill us in on the details on the way back, okay? Let's get you two cleaned up."

But Derek Morgan found Spencer, "Hey pretty-boy, is that royal rouge you've got on your lips there?" he teased. Spencer panicked and looked into the mirror of the nearest car, seeing that he did in fact have your lipstick on his mouth. He tried to wipe it off with his wrist, but it still stained. You wiped your own lip with your thumb and Derek caught you. "Okay, Miss Newbie, I see you."

Your eyes widened and Emily raised her eyebrows at you, a teasing smile on her lips. "It was to keep my cover. It's what sent those guys your way, one of them has serious sexual issues." You made sure they knew it- to save yourself and to save Spencer. Derek Morgan spun away with a huge knowing grin, back to Hotchner who was conversing with the Chief of Police. Emily pulled you away to the other medics and you shot Spencer a smile as you went.

He smiled back, still wiping off his mouth.

-tags

@ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch <3

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #aaron horkey #spencer x reader #bau #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #cm #reid #baby 🥺

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spvce-cowboy · 3 years

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gentle things

ch. 2 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x fem!reader)

previous- ch.1: “a strange beauty”

next- ch.3: “reunion”

rating: mature

8.5k words

warnings: mutual pining, masturbation (f), alcohol, descriptions of gore

summary: after a few months on the Crest, you find yourself growing closer to your new companions.

a/n: the gay agenda is finding a way to slip a dolly parton song into a star wars fanfic, i rest my case.

Most mornings you wake to the child’s soft cooing. Occasionally, the sound is met with a low, modulated voice, that murmurs incoherent phrases in response. It somehow puts your heart to rest before you even remember where you are.

It’s strange, you’ve been a resident of the Crest for a handful of months now and it sometimes still takes you a few moments each morning to reorient yourself. You blame it on the strange limbo of hyperspace—it always throws you off for at least a day or two, and you swear your dreams are more vivid after. Sometimes you wake up panting for no reason at all.

You’re adjusting pretty well. A bit strange having a roommate/boss who doesn’t acknowledge your presence beyond the occasional but respectful nod. But it’s way better than you could have possibly imagined when you first started turning the idea over in your head. Granted, that was when you were about elbow-deep in his chest cavity, trying to fish out pieces of the shoddily constructed weapon that broke off inside him. You needed the first way out that presented itself to you, something you and Am’ile both agreed with, and well, when opportunity strikes or whatever.

Your first evening on the Crest, you asked the Mandalorian where you should sleep and he just shrugged, handing you a single, scratchy blanket with a “this is all I have.” Later, when you pass his bunk as he’s taking a nap, he’s curled in on himself on a bare cot and you realize that threadbare piece of fabric was literally all he had. You don’t bring it up, but something in your chest softens towards him after that. There’s a new quilt folded neatly on his bunk by the time he returns from his first mission.

Your second day onboard, you found a metal table in a junk heap and pushed it against one of the walls in the engineering bay. You spent the better part of an afternoon figuring out how to weld it to the floor. The medical supplies went on top, then you pushed your pillow and your rolled-up mattress underneath. Sure, there was technically a second cot in the Crew’s quarters, but you wanted to give the Mandalorian his privacy whenever possible. Besides, as long as there wasn’t too much turbulence, your set-up was pretty great.

After a few missions, you’ve visited enough markets to buy an ample supply of blankets, sweaters, and pillows to keep you comfortable on the floor of the ship. It’s freezing most nights, especially in hyperspace, and cocooning yourself in as many warm things as you could manage helps stave off both the chill as well as the occasional home sickness. The collection you’ve amassed thus far is in a various mis-match of pale jewel tones that remind you of Am’ile’s house. You didn’t realize that until you’d piled them all together on your bed and you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself a bit.

The child loves your soft things, happily snuggling up with you for naps while waiting for the Mandalorian’s return—though you suspect he’s just grateful for the new company. A consistent presence while dad’s away. You’re happy to give that to him.

The new routine is comfortable, the company is nice, the work is relatively easy. And, stars, the things you get to see. It’s honestly more than you could have ever asked for.

When your eyes blink open it’s already around eight in the morning. You’ve landed on Nevarro where the Mandalorian has already been gone for a day, attending some kind of “extended business meeting,” as he put it. Yawning, you eventually roll out of bed and stumble into the fresher, blearily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the spray’s cold water. Stepping out, you wrap your towel around yourself. In the tiny metal mirror suspended over the sink you pat on some lotion onto your face, eyes still heavy.

Reaching for your toothbrush, your knuckle grazes one of the Mandalorian’s facial razors. You wince, flicking your hand before examining it. A tiny nick. Sucking on it for a second to stop the blood flow, you glance at the Mandalorian’s side of the cabinet.

It’s strange to see the most banal traces evidence of what he is, who he is, behind the all that beskar. Like the facial razors—to think he’s in here, maskless, shaving his face, while you’re playing with his kid or whatever just a few steps away. To think he takes a shower every day—er, well, you’re not sure about that one, but at least when he’s on the Crest—stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist in order goes about his little tasks.

You swallow, removing your hand from your mouth and grabbing your toothbrush before your mind can wander anywhere else. You brush your teeth particularly well that morning.

The day is pretty typical from there. After feeding both yourself and the child breakfast, you settle on the floor of the hull with the small metal ball he’s obsessed with. You place him a few feet in front of you, he sways slightly on both feet before plopping down to mirror you, hands stretched forward in an demand to be put in your lap.

“Let’s do some of the exercises, yeah?” You know you’re essentially just talking to yourself as you hold the ball in the air, but you might as well make the effort anyway. Am’ile was no stranger to kids like him, or at least that’s how she put it—something about her people and some other group, the specifics completely slipped your mind. She didn’t really elaborate and you knew not to press.

Even though you don’t know much, you do try to mimic Am’ile’s drills-disguised-as-play at least a few times a day. He only seemed to do what you asked during those sessions when you weren’t looking, distracted by cleaning or studying whatever book you’d picked up hours later. You would always find the little ball in strange places, definitely not where you’d last placed it, and certainly out of the child’s reach.

At least it was good to know he was partially pretending to not listen to you. You could work with partially.

The kid has been fussy since waking, refusing to focus on any of the things you were trying to prompt him to do. Yesterday, you spent a bit too much time at the markets with him—growing sick of protein bars, you initially set out trying to find something closer to tasting like home. Really, you just liked getting out of the Crest so you could see all those people.

You’ve amassed a collection of language dictionaries, trying to do some fast learning and even faster practicing to get your way around. Sometimes the vendors are kind and help you stutter your way through disjointed sentences in their native tongue, others just huff and immediately switch to Basic as soon as you start talking. You don’t mind either way.

The marketplace as a whole is new and exciting, the clatter and clamor of movement, laughing and snarling, voices raised in argument and lowered in the smallest exchange of intimacy. So far removed from the quiet slopes of Am’ile’s home and—

You don’t let the rest of that thought happen, quickly scooping the kid up and wrapping him to your chest with a long swath of fabric.

“I’m goin’ a little crazy in here too, little guy,” you mumble, pulling your satchel over your shoulder. “Your dad should be back in a while—let’s try to find a contact for supplies until then, yeah? Shouldn’t be too hard.” A total lie, it was way more difficult to find what you are looking for than you initially thought. You were particularly looking for a cauterizing instrument that was a bit more sturdy than the glorified cigar lighter the Mandalorian was currently using. Besides basic med-kit stock, it was nearly impossible to find anything more advance under the radar.

Yesterday was half-heartedly spent searching the markets in search of someone who might be tapped into Republic supply runs, which rendered you, predictably, empty-handed. Now you were on to your second best option, asking around the closest cantina where you could find the instruments you were looking for for without raising too much attention.

Okay, so maybe the Mandalorian specifically told you to keep out of the bars when you’re traveling without him. But you managed just fine on your own yesterday in an arguably more crowded environment. You’ve also dealt with… far worse than that hunk of metal could ever possibly imagine. You’re more than capable on your own. Still, you make sure to strap a dagger and a blaster to your belt before heading out.

You make quick work hurrying to the cantina, making sure to cover your head with the hood of your tunic and conceal the little one as much as possible. Basic survival instincts usually warrant drawing as little attention to yourself as possible, being a young human woman traveling alongside a small green wizard creature is pretty much the opposite of that.

He, predictably, doesn’t take very well to the concealed swaddle you’ve confined him to, and the two of you are in a constant back-and-forth of you attempting to wrap him up and him making quick work of wriggling out of any cover tactic you try. If it weren’t for those damn ears your life would be so much easier.

The bar has the quiet hum of activity, occasionally interspersed with a loud chatter of conversations rising to some kind of boiling point. You maneuver yourself to the counter and try to get the attention of the bartender, holding the kid to your chest until he squirms his way upwards and settles with his chin on your shoulder, one of his ears slipping out of the head covering you’d fashioned and thwapping you in the neck. You’ll deal with that in a second.

You’ve only just caught the bartender’s attention when the doors slam open. The clamor of the cantina quiets momentarily, and you see everyone shift slightly to eye whoever just entered. The two new patrons seem to be in the middle of an argument, voices low in secrecy but tense with frustration.

“I’d know that green mug anywhere.” With that you finally turn, heart dropping with anxiety. It’s the Mandalorian and a companion, a human man. The man’s voice, a deep bellow, is warm and inviting in a way that shouldn’t make you freeze completely as he addresses the kid. He then looks you up and down, pausing as the Mandalorian continues stomping forwards. You freeze anyway. “Ah—this is that girl you mentioned? Your caretaker?”

“She’s a medic,” the Mandalorian sharply corrects the man without moving to look at you. He quickly returns back to whatever conversation was initially at hand as the man continues his brisk stride towards a table at the back. There are three people already seated there, but by the time the Mandalorian arrives they have all left in a scuffling hurry. Neither of the men acknowledge it, just immediately slide into opposing sides of the booth. “Karga, this is ridiculous--I’m not a Republic spy, why would there be this many hoops on a bounty you’re just handing out?”

“I’m not just ‘handing it out,’ Mando, I’m giving it to you because I know you’re the most capable,” the man, Karga, addresses the Mandalorian then directs his attention towards you. “Come here, girl. Let me get a good look at you, I’m curious.” Turning to the bartender, he barks out an order for spotchka. You walk towards the table. There’s too much attention on the three of you to resist, you wouldn’t want to make things more complicated for the Mandalorian anyway. The bounty hunter’s voice almost immediately overrides his, low but gritty with anger as you slide into the booth beside him.

“I can’t—Karga you know I’ve never done something like this. This high-profile. Going deep-cover for a job isn’t something I can do.”

You feel Karga’s eyes on you, it’s brief but piercing. You busy yourself by looking up at the woman who serves you a small glass of the bright blue liquid, quietly thanking her.

“It’s all the fobs or nothing. The signal will be broadcast in a few hours’ time—they won’t expect something like this to be conducted semi-publicly. Keep monitoring the broadcast, but save that fob for last,” Karga places three fobs in the center of the table, then slides a forth a few inches removed from the rest. He can tell the Mandalorian isn’t convinced—stars, even you can tell he isn’t convinced. Karga heaves a sigh and makes a stab at reassurance. “You can figure it out. You’re the only one I can trust to get this done. The most capable.”

The Mandalorian’s hand slams down on the table, you jump, quickly looking between the intense but even staring contest going on between Karga and the infuriated bounty hunter. Slowly, and with more than a bit of melodrama, the Mandalorian drags the fobs under his hand towards him, slipping it into his pocket without breaking eyes from Karga’s.

He turns heel so quickly his cape whips behind him. You scurry after him as fast as you can manage.

You can still feel the frustration steaming off of the Mandalorian the whole walk back to the Crest. You keep quiet, trailing behind him by a few steps—you desperately want to ask what was wrong. Your mouth stays firmly shut.

Boarding the Crest, the Mandalorian immediately scales the ladder into the cockpit. After a few minutes you feel the Crest shutter into the air, quickly shooting into the empty sky and then hyperspace. You sigh and grab a book, turning the kettle on to make some caf and settling in your bed to an eye on the kid as he toddles around the expanse of the hull.

Hours later, when the child has exhausted all possible forms of entertainment, usually consisting of live wires and exposed paneling that you tug him away from, he begins to get fussy in a way that means he’s tired but refuses to sleep. It starts with the occasional whimper that quickly crescendos into a full-blown fit. You know all the warning signs at this point.

The little terror had a bit of a habit of doing this—once the Mandalorian and you are in the ship he refuses to fall asleep unless you two are in the same room. A part of you knows this is a symptom of separation anxiety—which you in no way can blame him for, given the circumstances of their bond—but the cockpit is just about the last place you want to be.

It’s not that you’re scared of the Mandalorian, or anything. It would just be… incredibly awkward with the mood he’s in right now to attempt to lull his kid to sleep in his presence.

“Listen, buddy, your dad is super grumpy right now so—" The child just starts crying even louder, little fists balled up to pound futilely against your chest, trying to push you away. “Okay okay okay! I get it. I get it.” You sigh, biting your lip and looking down at the kid, then up at the ladder. The kid starts screaming. “Yeah, yeah. Alright.” You begin the climb up.

“Hey, sorry he’s being a little sensitive again,” you say as your head pops up onto the pilot’s deck, miraculously managing to pull yourself into the room with one arm holding the squirming kid against you. The floor seals shut behind you once you haul yourself over the edge.

The Mandalorian just grunts in response and continues flipping through radio channels, seemingly growing more frustrated with himself the longer it takes for him to find the frequency Karga directed him to. He’s in the pilot’s chair, back turned to you, shoulders hunched in concentration.

You settle into the copilot’s seat, resting the kid on his back on top of your legs. He settles almost instantly, big eyes no longer filled with tears.

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you tickle him lightly until he starts giggling, then scoop him back up into your arms, allowing yourself to slide back in the chair a bit. You stare out into the bright darkness of space, blinking back at the stars as the child coos gently in your lap.

“A coded civilian station, is he fucking crazy?” The Mandalorian mumbles to himself in his continued litany of abuses he’s slung Karga and the greater universe’s way since returning to the Crest.

The longer you’ve been here the more he’s started to do things like that, just talking into the air without the expectation of a response. You begin to think that that’s just the way he acts when it was just him and the kid. Though you’ve noticed that he has been cursing way more than he did when you first met. That might be a little bit your fault. Oops.

You look down at the child and rub one of his ears, leaning down to press a kiss at the crown of his head. His little three-fingered hand catches your hair and pulls. Wincing, you resist the urge to jerk your head back. Instead, you extend the pad of your index finger and lightly wiggle it against his button nose. He sneezes and lets go almost immediately.

You let out a triumphant “ha!” then shake your head slightly and twist your face in a playful scowl. The kid resumes his giggling, batting at your hands when you try to tickle his tummy.

Glancing over at the angry hunk of beskar seated beside you, you notice he’s paused with his hand hovering over the radio’s controls, his head turned slightly towards his right shoulder to silently regard you and the child.

You quickly divert your gaze back down to the kid, resuming rubbing his ears as his eyes slowly, devastatingly slowly, ease shut. Only to snap open again with a playful babble, hands reaching up again for the free entertainment of the hair still attached to your head. Shit. You sigh. The Mandalorian goes back to flipping through the channels.

More static and garbled languages you’ve never encountered before. You try to ignore the pounding of your heart—that was probably the longest you’d ever seen him grant you any kind of attention—and keep trying to lull the child to sleep. As quietly as possible you try to stand, scooting around the copilot’s seat to gently bounce the kid in the limited space to the back of the cockpit. He’s quieted significantly, just enough that you could probably get him to sleep on your own, as long as you don’t jostle him too much on the descent back into the hull. You’re about to head down the ladder when—

The Mandalorian pauses momentarily on a channel that’s playing music. The opening swell of the first verse is unmistakable. Your chest fills with a certain warm feeling, pounding with memories you had long since tucked away.

“Wait,” you say it without thinking. Without even processing that the words left your mouth. “Wait, could you go back? That… that song…”

Wordlessly, he clicks back to the previous station. The cabin is filled with the music, a warm and bright voiced female vocalist smoothly intertwined with her male partner. The melody is plucky, something you could dance to—and have, more than once—and it’s overly saccharine in its pure, absolute joy in itself. But you suppose the cheesiness is part of the charm. You relish in it regardless.

You do something to me that I can’t explain. There is a memory that surfaces just as quickly as it disappears. You couldn’t have been more than four. Your father, spinning you around by your pudgy forearm. It’s his laugh you remember most of all, something boisterous and full-bodied. You are dancing around the kitchen of a home you can’t remember, the floor dappled with light from the pieces of stained glass your mother had dangling from the windows. Hold me closer and I feel no pain. You smile to yourself, bowing your head down at the little one, quietly murmuring what lyrics you remember, rocking your hips in a gentle little dance. It works, the kid is fast asleep by the last chord.

The song ends, the disc jockey begins speaking in yet another language you don’t recognize. The Mandalorian quickly turns the volume down, lest it wake the child. He has reflexes fast enough to startle you, luckily your jolt does nothing to bother the baby in your arms. You gently place him in the pram, hovering beside the pilot’s seat. You slide the shield doors shut to keep out the noise and step back.

“Thank you, Mandalorian,” you say it softly, but you can see his helm bob slightly in a nod of acknowledgement. You take a deep breath and begin to head towards the ladder as he resumes flicking through the stations.

“Hey,” the Mandalorian says your name. You pause for a moment, then turn. He clears his throat—the sound comes out as a rough crackle over the modulator. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he sounds a bit nervous. “You can uh… you can just call me Mando, you know. The full thing is a bit of a mouthful.”

You blink once, then nod. Turning heel you, mercifully, scale back down the ladder with as much grace as could be mustered, despite your shaking hands.

That night, when you touch yourself, you shove the blanket he gave you against your nose and mouth. To keep quiet, you tell yourself. It smells like his soap.

Days after the radio incident, you can’t help but occasionally find that you’re singing the song to yourself as you go about your chores. It just seems to pop in your head as soon as you open your eyes, and it’s just stuck there, but you’re not very mad about that.

Mando has landed on some bitterly cold planet that was made up of little more than ash and a thick red fog. He had left late last night/early this morning to start his hunt, telling you in a little scribbled note to expect him back in two days’ time. He has really bad handwriting, it’s strangely amusing.

You decide to deep clean the hull: washing the floors, doing laundry, organizing what meager new supplies you were able to gather from Nevarro. As you did, you sang to yourself. Out loud. Just for the pleasure of it.

Your mother taught you kulning, as was tradition for the young girls on your home planet. Your father taught you the low-bellied croon of the casino singers. When things were still good, you would sing for your parents friends at the parties they would throw and your father would play the piano. You wish you had more memories like that. It’s hard to recall anything through the foggy barriers of the past fifteen years, it makes something in your chest ache to even try.

Am’ile’s radio was for emergencies only, not wanting to draw unwanted attention with the signal. It has been ages since you’ve had access to one, ages since you’ve heard music that didn’t come from your own mouth. That was why you’d started the nightly calls at Am’ile’s because before that grassy little planet… well, speaking was barely an option. You’d seen too many girls hurt for things far less than murmuring a tune.

To sing in the way your mother taught you, with the whole of your body. To make yourself so boldly known. It was all you had ever wanted.

You start putting together dinner for you and the kid as the day winds down. Mando had a barely functioning hotplate that you were able to make the best of, having bought some fresh produce at the far more hospitable planet the three of you were stationed at the previous day.

The stew cooks while you finish up the rest of your work, slicing bread and setting up a little dining area for your and the kid because, frankly, why not go all-out? It’s good to treat yourself to the small, gentle things. Even when on an unforgiving rock hurtling through space. Especially then.

You hop in the fresher while you wait for the meat to get to the proper temperature, twisting your body to keep your hair out of the water’s blast. In the enclosed space, you feel a less self-conscious and allow yourself sing a little louder than the under-the-breath, partial-hum you’d managed throughout the rest of the day.

You don’t hear the hull opening between that and the fresher’s spray.

When you turn the water off, you recognize the sound of the last few mechanisms of the hull door stealing itself back in place. Anxiety settles in quickly as you dry off. God, please let it just be Mando please. There’s the sound of something heavy being thrown against a wall. You wince.

A low voice. “Pretty little bird you’ve got singing in here, just for me?” Then a wet crack. “Mother fuck—"

Your heart lurches in your chest as you quickly pull your clothes on, cracking open the fresher door to peer out into the hull. Mando is standing over the body of a target, now crumpled to the ground, holding a bleeding headwound with two long, thin hands. He nudges the bounty with the butt of the weapon he had presumably just used against the man’s skull. The man gives a choked moan, completely incapacitated.

“Do you…” your voice sounds far too small. You blink, inhaling and starting over. “Do you need to bring him in alive or do you need my—"

“The carbonite will stop the bleeding,” Mando’s voice is gruff. You nod, even though his back is turned to you, watching from the safety of the doorway as he leans down and lugs the whining body into the chamber. Once the bounty is sealed away, you step back out into the open.

Mando pushes past you almost without recognition, limping heavily.

“Hey—hey!” You trail behind him, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches. “Could you at least let me do my job?”

He regards you for an extended beat, then readily sits. It’s more of a controlled collapse.

“Is it your leg?” You ask, kneeling beside him and helping him peel off what armor you can. He shakes his head.

“It’s just more of a bruise I—my side, my hip. Onto the top of my leg.”

You nod slowly. “Okay, can you get to the fresher yourself or do you think you’ll need help? You have to rinse off before I treat you.” There’s an almost clay-like layer of red dust on his clothes and armor. It would be impossible to treat him properly without getting most of it off.

He wordlessly extends a gloved hand for you to help him up, you oblige—albeit struggling a bit with his weight. Once standing, you hover beside him on his limping walk to the fresher until he gives you a short: “I’ve got it.” You back off, returning to tend to your dinner while you wait.

When he emerges again he’s only wearing a sleep shirt, his mask, and a towel, the fabric held at the hip by his clenched fist to expose an already bruising thigh. He sits on a crate with an audible wince, easing himself back to lean against the wall slightly.

Your throat constricts as you move to his exposed side, but you try to breathe evenly enough to maintain an air of professionalism. Which gets increasingly difficult when he, with another sound of sharp pain, pulls up his shirt to reveal a series of small, shallow punctures traveling up his flank and over his hip that slightly weep with a mixture of blood and the cold water on his skin. He holds the shirt, just below his pectorals with his opposing hand, allowing the towel to drape over his lap while still revealing the side you need to work on. You can see the faint cut of his abdominal muscles, tracing south alongside a thin trail of dark hair leading--

“Shotgun pellets,” his voice stops your thoughts before they can get any worse. You’re partially thankful. Glancing up, you furrow your brow in confusion. He clarifies, “they’re a uh… a projectile type weapon. He was fighting dirty and desperate.” You nod, looking back down. The worst of the spray was able to score the skin right above his hip, but most of it had just bounced off his quad, leaving a series of raised, purpling welts. It was superficial at worst, but still not the best to look at. He seemed to read your mind. “Beskar was able to deflect them for the most part. I’ll be fine, just cauterize the worst of it.”

“The more you use the cauterizer the more of a chance you have of the scar tissue getting infected, you know. That’s some business you want no part of,” you say, digging through your kit for a pain ointment and the bacta you were able to refill on Nevarro. The more you looked at it, the more foolish of a blow for him to have taken it becomes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re doing this on purpose,” you’re muttering it to yourself before you can fulling think through the implications. When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him. “That was a joke.”

“You need to work on your material, then.”

You laugh, shaking your head to yourself as you get to work. It’s easier to feel more confident around him the longer you’ve acclimated on the Crest. You have a bad habit of using snark as a defense mechanism. The more you work with Mando, the less you’re able to keep that up. It feels nice, you can relax slightly when you’re given the reassurance of him reciprocating the conversation.

You finish pressing the last of the bandages against his side. “The pain stuff I used should start sinking in soon, it might burn for a bit beforehand but it’ll get better after a few minutes.” He nods, pulling the towel tightly around his waist before standing and limping back into his quarters. He returns, fully dressed, putting a little more pressure on his leg than he did before he left. You quickly, desperately, find a way to conceal your staring.

“Hey—I have a surprise for you,” you turn to the kitchenette, busying yourself by testing the stock with a messy sip. It’s not… the best thing you’ve ever made in your whole life, but it’s the closest thing to the meals you made with Am’ile that you’ve had since you left your old home. It smells lovely, enough to have filled the hull with the smell of the herbs you used. “I thought it was just gonna be me and the womp rat so I made dinner, if you wanna eat with us that is.” You pull out the bottle of wine you bought from one of the storage drawers, a slight heat rising to your cheeks. You hold it up triumphantly anyway. “I really just needed an excuse to buy this for myself. But I totally understand if you’d rather eat upstairs by yourself.”

“Thank you,” he says hesitantly. “I’ll… I’ll stay while you eat. I can take mine to the cockpit once you’ve finished.”

“Would you want to have a glass with me, at least?” You hold the wine bottle by the neck at your side. He’s grumpy. Part of you wants to find some way to fix that, knowing it would be hard for you to let yourself enjoy the rest of the night with him fuming over something just upstairs. “I’ll cover my eyes. It’ll be like when I brought you your meals, while you were fixing the ship. No peaking. I promise.”

He takes a moment, before nodding slowly, for some reason you’re kind of surprised he agrees. Maybe that’s why your smile is so big. Maybe it was the fact you’d already cracked the bottle open for a few sips before taking your shower, the warmth of it at the bottom of your stomach making it much easier to playfully prod at the bounty hunter. Probably a mix of both.

You kneel beside your bed to gather another pillow, placing it across the makeshift table you’ve fashioned out of two crate and one of your blankets. You turn to bring the rest of the food to the table, three wooden bowls and a plate for the kid. You’re in the middle of separating the meat from the broth for him when you glance up at Mando, who is still standing exactly where you last saw him. He points to the tuft of fabric you had placed on the floor for him.

“What’s that for?”

You’re not sure if he’s serious or not. “Um, comfort?”

He doesn’t say anything, just cocks his helmet slightly to the left.

“Alright, old man,” you roll your eyes, refilling your cup . “Suit yourself.”

Mando pauses for a second longer before easing himself onto the pillow. He says your name softly, almost to himself. “This looks… really great. Thank you.”

“Well I wouldn’t take it to heart too much, chrome bucket. I was planning on hoarding all this for me and the kid. You just came back at quite the opportune moment,” you grin cheekily up at him before tearing your piece of bread and dipping it into the broth.

He reaches across the makeshift table and picks up his cup. You’ve repurposed the tops of two of his thermoses to make them. He examines it in his hand for a moment before speaking.

“Were you singing that song that was on the radio, yesterday? When I came in?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, shaking your head to yourself as you reach over the table and grab the cup in his hand to fill it with the wine. “I haven’t heard it in ages, you know? Any music at all, honestly, but especially that song. It was one of my dad’s favorites,” you detract before either of you could linger on that last statement. “It’s been in my head all day. I was meaning to ask you, when it comes to the radio—it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for me to listen while you’re on the job, yeah? Tracing signals and all that?”

Mando mulls it over for a second, accepting his cup from you and staring down at it. “I’m not sure. Better safe than sorry, but I could ask around about getting a uh… one of those new portable ones.” You don’t want to tell him that those newfangled portable radios have been a thing since you were in the cradle—something about his technological obliviousness was oddly endearing. “I’ll ask around and see if there’s some kind of blocking signal we could install. If you’d like one, that is. I’d like to take a sip, now, if that’s okay?”

You nod, immediately putting your hands over your face. You know you could just squeeze your eyes shut like oh, maybe a normal person might? But to be honest, it was a little funny to do. To act this silly in front of one of the most effective killing machines in the galaxy, who you have somehow convinced to attend a quaint family dinner. Might as well mess around a bit with it, yeah?

You hear the hiss of the mask resealing but you don’t remove your hands from your eyes. “It’s good wine,” he remarks. “You can look now.”

Removing your palms from your face, you blink your vision back to clarity, reaching for your cup again. Your mouth is already growing warm in the way that let you know that when Mando meant good he also meant strong. You have to agree.

“The people on Am’ile’s planet would make this crazy strong liquor out of these peaches that only grew in the valley where we lived. The village that was closest to us got super wealthy off of the stuff--honestly I can’t stomach anything too sweet anymore after it, spent an equal amount of time coming up as it did going down, if you get what I’m saying.” You screw up your face at even the thought of the syrup-like drink. “The orchards were super beautiful, though. The tallest foliage in the valley and they were maybe only a few heads taller than you. All types of critters living in the roots—that little one loved it.” You gesture to the child, who was grabbing as much of the dish’s meat as he could in his stubby three-fingered hands. The rest of his plate remained untouched. “Am’ile and I used to take walks through it all the time, especially when I first got there. It was too dangerous to go into the forests by yourself so I would spend ages in the orchards if she wasn’t putting me to work, just for a change of scenery.” Your mouth kind of just keeps running. It just feels so… nice, to talk to someone without having to try and stutter your way through a new language. That and the liquid courage in your cup made you unapologetically chatty. “She had so many little trinkets and things from her travels as a Republic medic, but only like ten books tops, all on medicine. I literally have the things memorized at this point, they were the only things to read.”

“You could go back at some point, if you want. When there’s a lull in jobs I could probably drop you and the kid off, spend a few weeks with her while I keep hunting,” Mando casually picks up his glass again, and you automatically cover your eyes with your hands. You’re still smiling, just with a little weight behind it.

“No, no that’s okay. Am’ile would get in too much trouble with the locals, for good reason. It isn’t safe for them and—to be honest, Mando, I don’t think the kid could take being separated from you for that long,” you pause for a moment. “But that’s incredibly kind of you to offer, thank you. I mean that.”

His mask hisses back in place. You ease the index and middle finger of your right hand to peer at him playfully before lowering your hands again. It’s a gentle spar between the two of you, an easy rhythm to settle into.

“Your med-station,” he nods towards your table/bed set up, looking particularly messy in comparison to the hull you’d spent the day cleaning. “It’s…”

Your heart drops, ready for the scolding. “Ah—uh, I’m sorry.” You look down at your plate—even if he couldn’t see the heat rising to your face, you try to hide your embarrassment by stabbing at another bite of food. You glance up at him sheepishly. “It’s the only place on the Crest that’s tucked away enough, I didn’t want to get underfoot.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head. You swallow. “I like it. A good idea. It’s like a reminder whenever I leave, not to do anything too stupid.”

“Oh, well,” you’re not sure why that catches you off guard so much. You honestly had no idea he even processed your presence since you’d first moved in besides the occasional medical assistance you provided. “I’ll make sure to put the more intimidating syringes front-and-center the next time I organize it.”

And he laughs.

Well—so, okay. It’s not a full laugh, more like a few low releases of air, but there’s a clear smile behind it that you can definitely hear. It’s enough to have you slightly grinning to yourself the rest of the meal.

By the time you’re finished, you’re a bit hazy off the wine and incredibly sleepy. You lean back slightly and yawn, looking at where Mando has settled the kid on his lap. “Sometimes I wish I could just snap my fingers and he’d just go to sleep. There’s too much energy in that little guy.”

“I can take him for the night,” Mando is currently engaged in a gentle dance of keeping the little one’s hands away from the food you’ve portioned for the bounty hunter. It’s more amusing than it should be. “If you could just help me take this upstairs I’d be more than happy to.”

You nod, clamoring to your feet and grabbing his bowl as he climbs up into the cockpit with the kid. You follow and place his dinner on a clear spot on the console.

“Where are we going next?” You ask, glancing over the control panel as if you had any idea what all those flashing lights and strange looking scanners meant. You should really pick up a flight manual at some point, just for the basics.

“The last fob,” Mando sighs. “Canto Bight. This—this is going to take a while, just warning you now. I still have no idea how I’m going to pull this off.”

You nod, yawning. You’re still a bit tipsy. “Okay, well, I think I’m gonna go to bed. Good luck brainstorming.” The food sits warm and heavy in your stomach. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this full. It’s nice.

He gives a small nod acknowledging what you said, then goes back to grumbling down at the control panel, pushing buttons and examining scanners. You lean down to kiss the kid goodnight from where he’s babbling in the co-pilot’s seat, then climb down the ladder and change into your night clothes, setting the lights in the hull to night-mode as the Crest rumbles into the sky. Climbing into bed, you wrap your biggest blanket around yourself, the chill of hyperspace already settling in the air.

You have a dream. A bad one. One you’ve never had before and don’t know if you’d survive again if you did. It starts with you already crying. It’s one of those full-body, hiccuping sobs that usually rouses you from your sleep before things gets too bad.

Mando is gone, so far gone not even the comlink your finger is hovering over would be an option. You know this because the dream starts with him calling you. When you answer, there is only the sound of a hard, driving rain.

You’re holding the child against your chest and he’s screaming into your ear but you know if you actually lift him away to look at him he’ll disappear into the rain, too, so you drop the communicator and turn and there’s blood all over the floor and you have to clean it, you do. You have to so maybe he’ll come back and so you’re here, mopping up the blood on the hull’s floor as the child wails the loudest you’ve ever heard him cry and you try to choke out reassurances through your own crying because.

Because the gore is on your hands and your elbows and on you and on the floor once its gone it’ll be okay it’s so dark but it’ll be okay and streaking across the front of you and your face where you’ve tried to wipe it away please go away because it looks just like when.

Looks just like when.

You wake up in the middle of screaming, gasping for breath, one hand pressed against the top of the table above you and the other curled into the mattress. It’s the first time that’s happened, waking up like that at least. The dreams are different each time and occur at different frequencies, but they always crescendo at the same point. Usually you just wake up, eyes slowly sliding open and fixing to whatever is directly in front of you as your vision slightly blurs. How banal it usually is, how banal it feels, adds to the cruelty. You’re mostly still able to go to sleep after, at least there was that.

Not this, though. This is that hand-scratching-at-your-own-throat kind of terror, the kind you’ve usually only seen in the holo-dramas. You haven’t had a nightmare like that for so long, so maybe the surprise of it is what made it so much worse—that it wasn’t just you. Maker, you can still hear the child’s squalling in your ears. That sound of raw, primal terror that—

You feel your stomach lurch. You scramble to the fresher, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Half anxiety, half afraid to close your own eyes, the dull thrum of raw energy does little to calm itself once you manage to shove the door of the fresher close. You let the metal rim of the toilet cool your face as you sniff, scooting back to lean your back against the wall, pulling the sleeve of the sleepshirt you’re wearing up your palm to wipe your eyes.

A low voice says your name urgently. You look up, dazed for a moment, before the door is cracked open by four broad-knuckled fingers. Your hand flies out, catching the handle before Mando is able to pull it the rest of the way open. He barely has time to get his hand out of the way before you slam it shut again.

“I--sorry,” you croak. “Please um… please don’t come in here.”

“Are you okay?” His voice is rough with sleep. You cup your hands over your knees and lean your forehead down to rest against them. When you don’t answer, he speaks again. “Was it, was it about before? Before Am’ile?”

“I—I haven’t, for so—I haven’t… Before… It was…”

“I know. She told me, it’s alright, I wouldn’t have asked I just… I thought it was something you didn’t want to talk about but I--”

“I’m not a charity case,” it sounds snappier than you intended it to and has absolutely nothing to do with anything he’d just said. At this point you’re just talking to yourself, it seems like he knows that. “That’s not why Am’ile pawned me off on you. I’m okay, I didn’t need her supervision anymore. I’m, I’m okay. It’s taken a long time but I am now so I don’t know why--”

“No,” and he says your name forcefully, cutting you off before you can continue. He repeats himself, this time softly, before: “It’s alright.” Does his voice sound… warmer? Even through a layer of reinforced steel? “I want you to feel safe, here. Comfortable. I don’t care, it’s okay. I just thought you were hurt.” He clears his throat. “I have them too, the dreams. So you, you don’t have to worry about hiding it. Them.” You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all. Closing your eyes, you lean the side of your face into the door separating the two of you. It’s so silent on the other side you think he’s left, so when he speaks again it’s all the more surprising. “And she didn’t pawn you off. I need you. Here.”

Something in your chest does a complete backflip. Your stomach is fluttering so ferociously you have to clear your throat before continuing. “Okay. Yeah, um. Thank you,” you wince. “I’m gonna freshen up and then get the little one out of your hair—er, beskar.” Idiot idiot idiot.

“It’s alright, you didn’t wake him. If you want I can… I can sit with you, until you fall asleep.”

“Okay.” You say it softly. “That would be really nice, actually. Thank you.”

You quickly brush your teeth, then open the door the door slowly. Stepping into the hull and closing it behind you, you pad back to your mattress. He follows a few feet behind you quietly—it’s moments like these you’re grateful for his reserved nature. You don’t have the energy to try and brush things off by filling the silence with mindless chatter.

Kneeling beside your mattress, you wordlessly offering him an armful of your pillows. In the low light of the Crest’s night mode, the beskar helmet looks nearly featureless, save for the gleam of light that arcs up its surface as he looks down at what you’ve offered him.

“Could you—” your voice breaks. Heat rises to your face as you clear your throat again. “Is it okay if the kid um… slept with me? It was… some of it was about—”

“Yeah, of course,” Mando takes one of the pillows from the top of what you’ve offered him, tossing it at the ground of the opposing wall and then slipping out of sight as he goes into his bunk. He returns with a the child, standing above you as you crawl into bed, wrapping you blanket around yourself, setting up the pillows as you normally do for the naps you take together, preventing any accidental rolling-over. Mando crouches to place the kid beside you, then stands and settles where he’d dropped the pillow previously. You take a moment to look down at the child, running a thumb over the edge of his ear, before kissing his soft forehead where you normally do. He wrinkles his nose in his sleep, making a soft sound and twitching his ears before wiggling slightly to resettle. You rest your head back on your pillow. The specifics of the dream are already starting to drift away. It’s a small mercy, but it’s enough.

“Hey, Mando?” You lift your head, the low light reducing the man to a dark, featureless outline.

“Hm?”

“Would you mind if… um… would you mind if I just touched your hand? Just so uh… if I wake up I can know you’re there?” As the words spill out of your mouth, an unbearable heat rises to your face.

There’s the sound of him shifting, getting to his feet with a grunt. Then he’s right there, sitting with his back to the wall, just a few inches from the top of your head. Tentatively, you reach out your hand, resting your index and middle fingers against his palm. And it’s his palm, His palm, warm but rough with callouses, resting on the floor beside his extended leg just for you to be able to close your eyes, even for a little bit.

It takes a while but it works. Right as you drift back to sleep you think you feel his hand gently wrap around the fingers you’ve offered him. You really think you do.

a/n: thank you all for the engagement thus far !! it really means so much to me.

that said i am .,..... beyond excited about the next chapter for two reasons of equal importance: fancy parties and Very Jealous Mando. my favorite things 😌

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din and grogu #mando and grogu #grogu #reader insert #i'll be here in the morning #i'll be here in the morning ch.2 #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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whitesparrows97 · 4 years

Text

A Thousand Springs – Part 23

Pairing: BTS x Reader/OT7 x Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU, fluff, smut, fantasy

Summary: Life is short. Eternity is long. Why you in particular are approached by a super attractive man in a club, you did not understand. You understood even less why he wanted to kill you. Fortunately, seven young, also incredibly handsome men show up to help you with this little problem. Purely by coincidence, of course. Or do you really believe in fate?

Warnings: Explicit sexual content including fingering in public, risk of discovery, voyeurism, dirty talk, multiple partners, inappropriate dancing lol

Word Count: 5.2K

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(picture credit: photograph by Mok Jung Wook for TIME Magazine)

Every further meter you passed by car, your nervousness increased. Your hands were sweaty and you suppressed the need to wipe them on your expensive dress, so you just nervously clasped them together. A side glance at the other men showed you that they seemed to feel the other way around. Their excited conversations filled the car and, contrary to your thoughts, they didn’t say a word about the upcoming ball; and anything that might go wrong. You didn’t want to ruin your evening with negative thoughts – because who knew when you would get the next opportunity to go to such a big, boisterous event?

Still, the queasy feeling remained that something had to go wrong.

However, it wasn’t just David you were thinking about and who had shown you each time that he would show up exactly when it was most inconvenient. No, part of your nervousness was also that you had to engage in small talk with countless strangers in a few minutes. Apart from Jung-hee and Chin Ho and a few other somewhat familiar faces you had met in the corridor during your few visits to the company, you knew no one. For a brief moment you were reminded of situations from a few years ago when you were at a party where you only knew the host. And to be honest, you were also a bit worried if some of the guests would give you strange looks if they saw you with seven men. This thought hurt, and you pushed it back where it could gather dust in peace.

All further thoughts were interrupted by the view when you turned a corner with the car and headed straight for the building. Big spotlights shone on the huge building and immediately caught your attention. A long driveway led to the entrance of the building, which could be reached by a wide, long staircase. Hoseok slowed the car down and greeted a security guard standing at the secured gate to greet the guests. The interaction was brief, so a moment later you moved closer to the building. You looked out the window past Taehyung and your jaw almost dropped as you saw security standing every few feet, dressed in unobtrusive yet elegant black. It would be almost impossible to enter the compound without authorization.

Taehyung seemed to notice the change in your mood, and you saw from the corner of your eye how he gave you his typical boxy grin. Your hand found his, and he squeezed it once, as if to confirm that you had been worried for nothing. For a moment you lost yourself in the shadow plays that took place on his profile as his face was illuminated by the countless fairy lights and lamps that were installed in the trees that enclosed the driveway.

Hoseok stopped right in front of the grand staircase, and he hadn’t even turned off the engine when already an employee was standing next to the driver’s side with a friendly smile on his face, ready to take the keys and park the car. Jungkook and Taehyung both helped you out of the car and you were more than happy with the two arms you could hold on to. It had been months since you had worn high heels, so you had to get used to the extra centimeters of height and the unsteady walk. The men from the other car also gathered around you and immediately you became a little calmer. For a brief suspicious moment, your eyes fell on Yoongi. But he looked at the building in front of you and let his gaze glide over the few people who also made their way to the entrance. Music came towards you as you started to climb the stairs, as well as laughter and countless voices that were talking loudly. Apparently the people here were already having a good time, even though the ball had just started.

You felt someone looking at you and turned your head to the side, where your gaze directly met Namjoon’s. With a dimpled smile, he reached out his hand to you, which you accepted with thanks. The warmth he radiated and his large, pleasantly rough hands immediately filled you with a sense of comfort. You knew that you would survive this evening with the seven men at your side. And maybe, just maybe, you would even have some fun.

As you entered the building through the wide entrance, the volume nearly doubled and immediately the uneasy feeling came back. What would the other guests think about you? Were some disappointed when they saw you because they had imagined someone better? With these thoughts, you subconsciously hid behind Namjoon’s broad stature. Confused, he looked down at you over his shoulder. He let go of your hand only to wrap his around your hips and press you firmly to his side.

“Don’t go away, baby,” he said and pressed a kiss on your temple. As his full lips touched your skin, you pressed yourself a little further into his body. “You don’t have to hide. Not at all.”

You nodded as you continued to lean your head slightly against his shoulder, absorbing the surroundings around you. The building was relatively old; thick sandstone columns stood at the edge of the huge main room and supported the ceiling. Various lights hung from the meter-high ceilings, which illuminated the room in a pleasant, warm and soft light. On both sides there were different possibilities to sit and stand and you watched waiters and waitresses as they whizzed through the crowds of people offering trays of drinks and small appetizers. The center of the room was used as a dance floor and already countless people were dancing to the live music played by a DJ on a small elevated stage at the end of the dance floor.

“Wow,” you whispered and Namjoon’s chest bounced slightly as he laughed softly.

“You like it?”

You could only nod and let your gaze wander over the other guests, who were dressed just as fancy as you were, and were chatting animatedly in small groups. You had to look twice to be able to distinguish the security guards from the guests – only the inconspicuous and almost unnoticeable in-ear headphones, over which they were probably coordinating with the others, gave them away. Your gaze met that of the security guard, whom you had probably been watching for a second too long, and he nodded slightly at you. So slightly that when you looked away you wondered if he had really nodded at you. As you searched the room further, you discovered more and more of them. You didn’t count, but in every corner, on every side, as well as in the middle of the room… actually every few meters there was a security guard who did not let you out of their sight. Even from a distance, you could see how they moved their lips slightly and communicated with each other when they saw that you had arrived.

But your attention was suddenly captured by a small petite woman who appeared before you. A smile spread across your face as you recognized Jung-hee.

“Ahh, Y/N!” She greeted you with a radiant smile. She spread out her arms and pulled you into her embrace, just like at your last encounter. Again you were surprised how much strength she had, especially at her age, when her arms were pressing strongly against your back. When she let go of you, she looked down at you once. “Well, if you’re not an eye-catcher,” she remarked with a wink before she greeted the men with a small bow.

“Everything quiet so far?” Namjoon asked, who had detached himself from you. Jung-hee nodded before the two stepped out of your field of hearing. But immediately, a new arm had wrapped around your waist.

“Do you want something to drink?” Jin asked and barely waited for your answer when he had already taken two glasses from the tray of a waiter who had just passed you. He held out one of the glasses with the clear, presumably alcoholic, drink to you. That probably wasn’t such a bad idea – you would be lying if you said that you didn’t feel any looks on you. When you put the glass to your lips and the drink burned down your throat with a careful sip, you caught the occasional guest of the ball who quickly turned their gaze away from you as soon as your eyes met.

Suddenly you felt a hand on your other side as well. Yoongi let his thumb move in circles on your hip without turning his gaze towards you “Everything okay?” he asked, and at his question, Jin turned his head towards you.

“The looks make me a little nervous,” you honestly admitted, and when you put the glass to your lips, you realized that your drink was already empty.

“They only look at you because you look stunning,” Yoongi explained and took the empty glass from you.

“Still, they should hold back a bit with their glances,” said Jin, and you heard for the first time how his voice no longer sounded joyful and exuberant but almost chilly. “They should know that Y/N is here with us.”

The corners of your mouth twitched slightly upwards. “Is someone jealous?” you teased him and let your hand slide over his side.

He looked down at you, a sparkle in his eyes, as he answered you without batting an eyelid: “I don’t need to be jealous. I know that you belong to us and we belong to you.”

“Or maybe just because you have a little too much self-confidence,” Yoongi returned dryly. “By the way, some people also call that arrogance. Maybe you should look it up in the dictionary.”

“Yoongi-ah,” Jin whined over your head towards the younger one. “Don’t undermine my authority.”

“What authority?” you gave back and Yoongi snickered next to you.

“That’s my girl,” he said and pressed you closer to his side.

You watched as the other men had already spread out and made casual small talk with various small groups of people. You didn’t know how many employees knew about David – and the problems he was causing – but tonight nobody seemed to bother. Jin and Yoongi also left you after a while when you endured the first, somewhat awkward conversations. As nervous as you had been at first, you were relieved now. So far, everyone had welcomed you with a certain curiosity, almost nervousness, but never with resentment. That Yoongi had been standing next to you was probably more a tactic than a coincidence. But you were grateful for his emotional support.

Jungkook was the only one who still stood next to you and let his gaze glide over the guests incessantly. You wondered if he was looking for someone or was securing the situation. Sometimes you wondered if the seven ever really came to rest or were always on call.

“Hey,” you said softly and grabbed his hand to get his attention. Immediately his head rushed to you and he gave you a smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, a little too quickly and a little too enthusiastically. So you raised one eyebrow and he dropped his smile with a sigh. “I’m just not a fan of large gatherings,” he told you, and now you raised both eyebrows in surprise.

“Why not? They’re all your employees, you don’t have to be nervous.”

He shrugged his shoulders and you felt his grip around your hand tighten a little. “Many people in one place make me nervous. I quickly loose track and I don’t like that.”

You bridged the last distance between you and threw him a hopefully encouraging smile. “I’m here with you, so there’s no need to be nervous.”

He returned your smile and this time you could see that it was real when you saw the little wrinkles around his eyes. He put his free hand on your hip and pulled you towards him. “Thank you,” he murmured into your hair and pressed a kiss on your head. His voice was almost drowned out by the music and the other guests.

“Hey you two,” you suddenly heard a voice next to you and you and Jungkook flinched. You broke away from each other and you looked to the side, only to see Chin Ho, who looked at you apologetically. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” he apologized for his interruption. “I just wanted to check if Y/N was okay.”

“Oh,” Jungkook said quietly, and your gaze fell on his lower lip, which he bit as if holding back the rest of the sentence. Without paying any further attention to Chin Ho, he turned his gaze back to the crowd.

You looked at Jungkook a moment longer before smiling gratefully at Chin Ho. His eyes flitted nervously back and forth between the two of you and he seemed to realize that now was not the perfect time to ask you about your well-being. “I am fine, Chin Ho. Thanks for asking.”

He dismissed your thanks with a wave of his hand. “I think you’re forgetting that this is my job,” he laughed and as he shook his head, smiling, a few strands of dark hair came loose from his bun. When he looked up again, his eyes glowed. “But it’s good to see that you’re handling it so well. That was some pretty rough stuff that David pulled at the mall.”

Not a minute, hell, not even a second went by that you weren’t reminded of the man. As if he was lurking in the shadows, waiting for you to take a step too far away from the light, only to pull you towards him in the darkness. You tried not to hold it against Chin Ho. As he had rightly said, that was his job. Probably he too was constantly thinking of David and how he could guarantee your safety. But you just wanted a relaxed evening without thinking about David. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was.

“Well,” Chin Ho said after a brief uncomfortable silence when you didn’t answer, “I just wanted to ask how you were doing. But I am reassured. Then have a nice evening, maybe we’ll run into each other again,” he said goodbye with a short wave and went to the next group of people with whom he immediately had an animated conversation. You were a bit jealous that it was so easy for him to have conversations with other people. On the other hand, he worked with these people and probably saw them daily. Not like you, for whom all those people were strangers.

You heard Jungkook laughing next to you and when you turned your head towards him, you saw how he shook his head with a grin.

“What?” you asked with a little smile on your lips.

“I guess it’s already time,” he just said and nodded his chin in one direction. You followed his gaze and almost had to laugh out loud as you saw none other than Hoseok, Jin and Taehyung on the dance floor, throwing their arms in the air. A circle had formed around them with people watching the three and laughing as well. Your highlight was definitely Jin, who apparently didn’t care a bit about what others thought of him as he circled his hips.

Still with a smile on your lips, your eyes fell on Hoseok and looked directly into his eyes. Even from a distance, you saw a diabolical grin spread on his lips before he said something to Taehyung. A moment later, he came up to you and Jungkook. You knew what he was going to do even before he started walking and you tried to pull Jungkook with you, as long as it was away from Hoseok. But Jungkook laughed and he seemed like a block of immobile cement – he didn’t move an inch.

“Sorry, Y/N, but there is no escape,” he said, clasping your hand tighter as you tried to get away from him.

“I need alcohol to do this,” you mumbled as you realized that there would be no way out of the situation and kept a lookout for a waiter. You briefly raised your hand when you saw one a few meters away from you and he immediately rushed to you. “Thanks,” you said without really looking at him and reached for a full glass.

“Oh dear,” Jungkook murmured next to you as the waiter had disappeared and you looked at him angrily.

“You have nothing to say here, Jeon Jungkook. You won’t let me go, you’re lucky I don’t drag you along.”

Jungkook smiled at you as you said that. “Who said I’m staying here?” Then he pulled you forward and walked towards Hoseok who was still striding towards you. Hoseok grabbed your free arm and pulled you onto the dance floor. His grip made it difficult to take a sip of the drink, but you almost sighed as you felt the soothing burning in your throat and the light haze spreading in your head.

Jin and Taehyung cheered loudly when they saw you, and when your eyes fell on Taehyung, you were reminded of the night you two first met. There, too, you had preferred to wait at the bar instead of going dancing with Alison and giving David the opportunity to…

Okay – stop.

You paused when you noticed in which direction your thoughts were going. You would have fun today no matter what happened. If something bad would happen in the next few hours, at least you would use the time now to let go of the stress and tension of the last weeks and months. And you would do all this right now, in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by hundreds of guests.

You poured the measly remaining content of your drink down your throat and pressed the empty glass into Jungkook’s hand. He looked at you amused and Taehyung whispered something in his ear, which made the younger one smile. Before you could ask what was so funny, Hoseok took your hand and raised your intertwined fingers in the air. You had to laugh as you turned around yourself when he asked you to, and you heard him join in your laughter over the loud music.

He put both hands on your hips and with a short jerk pulled you tightly to his chest. You pressed your palms against his hard chest and when you looked up at him, your cheeks were burning. Whether it was the sudden proximity to Hoseok or the alcohol that had finally entered your bloodstream, you didn’t know. Hoseok guided you into a slow rhythm with his hands, rocking you gently from side to side. As you turned your head to the side, you saw how Jungkook and Jin were no longer standing next to you, but had disappeared into the crowd. As you turned to the other side to look at Taehyung, you suddenly felt another pair of hands on your hips.

“Are you looking for me?” Taehyung whispered and his hot breath on your ear made you shiver. You felt his soft lips curl into a knowing grin before he nibbled on your earlobe a second later. Surprised, you sucked in the air and buried your hands in Hoseoks hair. You didn’t notice his gasp, all your attention was on Taehyung’s teeth and lips. “Still as sensitive as I remembered. It’s been far too long since the last time.”

You dropped your head backwards on his shoulder, closed your eyes and nodded. How right he was. The intense kisses from Namjoon just before you left for the ball had left you hot and ready. Before you knew it, a soft moan had fallen over your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” you heard Hoseok say, who seemed to be just inches away from you with his face. “We haven’t even started yet.” You heard the grin in his voice and when you opened your eyes again to glare at him, the next song began. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the crowd rush onto the dance floor and devour you three in anonymity. The slightly dimmed light and the many people around you made you both braver and more nervous. You blurred in the crowd, but at the same time there was a chance that more pairs of eyes were on you.

The two men didn’t seem to mind, though.

Hoseok’s grip around your hips tightened and he pulled you even closer against his chest, so that your faces almost met. The desire in your abdomen grew from second to second and you didn’t waste a second more pressing your lips against his. Taehyung murmured something incomprehensible behind you and pressed himself harder against your back. You gasped as you felt his erection on your ass and Hoseok took the opportunity to let his tongue slide into your open mouth which he explored extensively.

Meanwhile, Taehyung embraced the middle of your body and locked you tightly between his and Hoseok’s bodies. You felt a leg pushing between your feet and interrupted the intense kiss with Hoseok to look between your two bodies. Hoseok reached under your chin with one finger and focused your attention on him again.

“Wanna have some fun?” he asked and you were only able to understand him over the loud music because he was not even five inches away from you. His grin spoke volumes about what he meant by fun and excitement spread between your legs as your thoughts drifted to various scenarios.

You nodded and the two men immediately understood. Hoseok led you with his firm grip into a steady rhythm to the music and pushed you down slightly. Your core slid over his thigh in a slow, intense movement and you bit your lower lip painfully to suppress the moan. You were sure that at least those around you would have heard you moaning. You felt Taehyung’s fingers loosen from the middle of your body as he let one hand slide down your side instead. For a brief moment you paused in your movement as you felt his long fingers against your naked skin on your thigh, at the point where the slit in your dress began.

“Does it turn you on that people can watch us do this?” Taehyung whispered into your ear from behind you and let his fingers slide under your dress before he grabbed your thigh. His fingertips stroked the inside of your thigh and you felt like you were going to pass out at any moment, so quickly the blood shot into your abdomen. Your clit was almost throbbing, as were your inner walls, which contracted around nothing. Hoseok helped you get back into your rhythm and this time you couldn’t suppress the broken, soft moans when you felt Hoseok’s muscular leg against your core. You pulled him closer, wrapped your arms around his neck again and put your head on his shoulder. You had the feeling you needed that support, otherwise your legs would give way under you any moment, that’s how shaky you felt. Besides, this way the view of you would be somewhat obscured by Hoseok’s body.

“Good girl,” Hoseok whispered in your ear. You buried your face in his shoulder, which muffled your sounds as he moved your hips back and forth over and over again across his thigh.

“Is that appropriate for a ball like this?” you asked, your voice already rough from arousal.

But Hoseok laughed. “What should they do? Fire us?” With this statement, Hoseok stopped moving even though his grip did not loosen. Instead, you felt Taehyung’s fingers, which had not moved any further before and had only gripped your thigh tightly. Now, however, he started to let his hand slowly move further up. The slit of the dress was high, almost a bit too obtrusive, so Taehyung didn’t need much before he arrived at your thong. The thong that uncomfortably stuck to you because you were so wet.

“Shall we give Namjoon a little show?” Taehyung asked and confused, you turned your head to the side. Your blood almost froze in your veins as your gaze fell directly on the young man leaning relaxed against the bar counter. But even from a distance, you saw that this was just a masquerade. His fingers almost clawed into the glass, so tightly he had enclosed it. The look with which he looked back at you almost pierced through you, and you could see from here how he pressed his jaws tightly together. He almost looked angry.

“Is this a good idea?” you therefore asked. You didn’t want to upset Namjoon. What if he cared about your reputation? Most people here you met for the first time and you were not sure if it would be a good first impression if they saw you like this. And also all the people you knew… Jung-hee, Chin Ho – what if they saw you? Would they say anything? Or would they just look away quickly? Your stream of thoughts was interrupted by Hoseok, who stroked your side with his thumb.

“Trust me, baby, Namjoon is enjoying the show. Even though he doesn’t look like it.”

“So he’s not mad because someone might be watching us?” you asked, and your voice sounded muffled as you buried your head in Hoseok’s shoulder again because you couldn’t stand Namjoon’s gaze any longer.

It was Taehyung this time who laughed softly behind you and gave you a kiss on the back of the head. “Mad? He probably has to pull himself together not to come here and do it himself. He probably wants to show everyone that you are ours and show them things, do things with you, that they can never do with you.”

“Oh God,” you mumbled and wanted to squeeze your legs together to get some friction on your clit. But Hoseok’s leg was still between yours and Taehyung also clicked his tongue and pushed your legs further apart.

“Suddenly you can’t wait anymore, can you?” Taehyung asked, bringing his fingers into direct contact with your clothed opening. You gripped Hoseok’s shoulders tighter while a soft whimpering came over your lips. “What was that, Jagi?”

His slender fingers pushed your thong to the side and glided over your labia as they spread your moisture. Your eyes fell on Namjoon. You wanted to know if he was watching you and if Hoseok and Taehyung were right. When you saw how his gaze was firmly focused on the middle of your body, eyes slightly narrowed, you knew that they might have even underestimated him. And this thought, this certainty, unleashed something in you that you had never experienced before. At least not with this intensity.

You waited until he lifted his gaze, before you smiled at him from a distance. It was a light, almost shy smile while you still had your head on Hoseok’s shoulder. Then you released one arm and let it fall down and Namjoon followed the movement with a blank face. Then you also reached through the slit under your dress and grabbed Taehyung’s wrist. He wanted to pull his hand back, misinterpreted your grip at first, but you pressed it tighter between your legs. Taehyung moaned softly as he pressed a finger closer to your opening. You were sure that Namjoon saw at least something. Two hands under your dress made the slit reveal even more than it already did, and the dancing people around you showed him a glimpse of you every now and then.

“You’re enjoying this a little more than I thought, baby,” Hoseok noticed and let his fingertips slide across your back. You shivered, and at the same time Taehyung let his finger slip into you. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth opened in a choked moan, while all your concentration lay on Taehyung’s long finger that pushed deeper and deeper into you. As you felt his knuckles between your legs, he began to curl his finger inside you and pressed it against the slightly rough part of you.

“Tae,” a surprised moan slipped away from you and Taehyung took this as an incentive to let his finger slip out of you again. You managed to open your eyes again to look at Namjoon. He had placed his glass behind him on the counter while his gaze was still firmly fixed on you. When he made sure that you were looking at him, he briefly palmed himself. The movement was short and quick, so probably no one but you had noticed it. Outsiders might think he only had to adjust himself.

But you knew better. You saw the short grin that appeared on his lips before your eyes fell close again as Taehyung penetrated you with his finger again.

“If we had known that this would turn you on so much when someone was watching you, Jimin would certainly not have sent us away last time,” Hoseok said.

“That’s good to know, isn’t it, Hyung?” Taehyung’s voice sounded strained as he moved his finger in you faster. His palm pressed gently on your clit and you felt Taehyung pushing your arousal out of you with every thrust of his fingers. Just the thought of your moisture dripping down his fingers caused your inner walls to contract. Immediately, you felt Taehyung’s fingers even more intensely rubbing you from within.

“Please let me come, Tae,” you asked and pressed him harder into you with a strong grip around his wrist.

“I think Namjoon will get angry if he isn’t the one,” Hoseok remarked, and you were already complaining when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes sprang open and Namjoon stood in front of you. Taehyung’s finger inside you stopped moving and you let go of his wrist. Now that he was standing right in front of you, you could see his pupils dilated and the few drops of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said and his voice sounded even deeper than usual. Taehyung’s finger slipped out of you and you whimpered softly as you suddenly felt empty. Namjoon grabbed your hand which was just hanging lifelessly next to you and Hoseok and Taehyung took this as a signal to let you go.

“Should we let Jin know?” Hoseok asked and Namjoon nodded. Immediately, another wave of nervousness and excitement came over you.

“Send him to the back in half an hour. Not earlier.” And with these words, he grabbed your hand and pulled you off the dance floor.

Written 2019-2021. Do not copy, translate or repost without permission.

I’m really sorry to end this chapter at this point! But the chapter is already quite long (it would have been over 10k if I wouldn’t have split it here). But I promise to post the next chapter sooner as this one, so you won’t have to wait as long!

As always, every comment, reblog or ask means a lot to me! I’m actually kind of sad seeing that every new chapter of this story decreases in notes. I mean, I get it – it’s a long story and everything, but still... it makes me questioning whether I should use the little time I have for writing for other projects. But on the other hand I’m pretty sure there are only around ten chapters more to come. Ah, I don’t know what to do. Anyway, I hope you’re having a great week and are staying healthy! See you soon! 💜

Tag list:

@oddly-drawn-muse @yoongiismytruelove @btsmysteriestolove @unicorntrooper @crazy-fangirl-10 @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @lyricstae @aretha170 @yoongisdumplingcheeks @bangtxnbxunch @brokencrownqueen @dont-hyuck @xanny91 @peaches-422 @kimmie113080 @madisonred88 @peachy-bhun @y-0-u-n-g-b-l-0-0-d @squeakermarie @lauren2408 @kalkeegan @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @just-a-little-teapot13 @rosexbangtan @fawnzilla @pieislife @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @kookiebbyxx

#bts x reader #bts smut #bts x you #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts imagine #poly!bts x reader #bts fic

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lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Divining Rod

spencer reid x reader

Summary: The death of a serial killer rises another and the team must stop it.

warnings: normal criminal minds things,

A/N: based on season 7 episode 21

“A row house in Demount Circle wow,” Penelope said, astonished at the news Emily just gave.

“I can’t believe I’m doing it.” Emily shook her head in disbelief at the news also. “I mean, it’s probably not gonna work out anyway, right?”

“That’s what I said before I found out I got my apartment so, you probably will,” Y/N said, laughing at the end of her sentence.

“Well, there are five other sealed bids, and I offered way below what the owners are asking,” Emily spoke, standing up from her chair and began walking. JJ, Y/N, Penelope, and Spencer stood up and followed her.

“Uh-huh, sounds to me like someone’s hoping they don’t get it.” JJ’s voice was filled with sass as she side-eyed Emily.

“Orthophobia, fear of owning personal property,” Spencer said from in front of the four women. He was intently looking over the case file in his hands as they walked to the round table room.

“No- I don’t have a fear of owning stuff, turn me loose in a shoe store, I’ll prove that,” Emily defended herself. “My fear is owning personal property that weighs three hundred tons.”

“Actually, depending on materials used, square footage, and horizontal versus vertical construction, the average house only weighs sixty tons,” Spencer retorted, spewing off his knowledge without even a second thought.

“Well, thanks for that Reid, I feel light as a bird,” Emily said sarcastically.

“It’s okay Em, it took me months before I could even settle into my apartment because I couldn’t feel at home, it just takes time.” Truly Y/N felt uncomfortable because the last place she lived in by herself all her friends were tormented in, but Emily didn’t need to know or worry about that.

“What‘ve we got, baby girl?” Derek asked, breaking up the conversation to bring it to the case at hand.

“We have a killing in Enid, Oklahoma, and not the capital punishment one you are thinking of right now.” Penelope walked over to her chair and took a seat before she continued. “I’m talking about a woman named Cara Smith, who was murdered in her apartment minutes after the execution of Rodney Garret.”

“Neighbors saw her front door open and discovered the body,” Hotch added.

“Look Familiar?” Rossi asked directing everyone’s attention to the victim on the screen. Her appearance is the same as all of Garret’s victims.

“Young, pretty, short blonde hair,” JJ said, examining the photo.

“And stabbed directly through the heart.” Y/N brought her pen up in the air, showing that she realized what Rossi was saying.

“That’s exactly the way Garret killed his victims,” Spencer said as he remembered back to the Garret murders.

“So are we looking at a copycat?” Derek asked looking at those around the table.

“Or someone creating doubt the right person was executed,” JJ countered, looking at Derek next to her.

“In Garret’s case there was no doubt,” Rossi corrected. “His guilt was the slam dunk of all slam dunks. Prints, DNA, a confession…”

“He even led the police to where he buried two of his victims,” Spencer added to the list Rossi was creating.

“Garret killed 25 women before he was caught. If this new unsub is a copycat, the body count’s just getting started,” Emily said.

“Which is why we can’t waste time, wheels up in thirty.”

----------

“Firing squad? That’s new,” Y/N said after hearing Garret’s choice of execution.

“It’s definitely not something you see every day,” JJ agreed.

“Well, Garret had the option of lethal injection, but he chose this instead,” Derek responded.

“Flair for the dramatic,” Rossi stated.

“No kidding.” Y/N let out a breathy laugh with her words.

“Initial reports indicate no forensic evidence at the crime scene,” Hotch said looking at the file in his hand.

“What about the ice pick?” JJ asked.

“It was generic, no serial number or unique metallurgy,” Derek answered looking at the paper that gave more detail on the pick.

“Well, now, it says here-” Emily pointed to a page in her file- “that there were water droplets and a half-filled flower vase on top of the chest drawers, but no flowers. Not in the vase, not in the garbage, nowhere.”

“Maybe the unsub took them,” Y/N posed, looking up from her folder.

A pinging sound came from the laptop as Penelope popped up on the screen.

“Hey, say it like you mean it, baby,” Derek greeted her.

“You know I’m gonna,” she replied before giving what she found. “So if you look in the dictionary, the word ‘normal’-” she held her hands up to show quotation marks- “you will see Cara Smith. College student, well-liked, straight A’s, English lit major- oh speaking of which I just got a transcript of Rodney Garret’s last words, hot off the press and a gold star to the first person who can identify the source of this: ‘She comes like fullest moon on a happy night, taper of waist-”

“‘With shape of magic might,’ it’s from the Thousand and One Nights, not the exact translation I would have used, but it’s got its own merits,” Spencer finished the last of the poem.

“And in a shocking non-upset, we have a winner,” Emily said, hopefully stopping Spencer before he would go on a spew of insight of the story.

“Garret was a sixth-grade dropout, an unlikely guy to be quoting from a Harvard classic,” Rossi said.

“The choice of material does make sense though,” Spencer began. “The book is all about how a Scheherazade forestalled her own death at the hands of the king by regaling him night after night with stories.”

“In the end, he won him over right?” JJ asked.

“Yes, the king found a love for her and decided not to execute her,” Y/N answered, looking at JJ. “Although I wouldn’t say that would be a strategy that would work with the Oklahoma Department of corrections.”

“Another body’s been found half a mile from the first victim, same M.O.” Hotch had stepped away to answer the phone and was now relaying the information he was just given to the team.

“That's six hours later, this guy’s not wasting a lot of time,” Derek said.

“We land in twenty minutes, Reid, you and Y/N go to the latest crime scene, Rossi, you JJ and Prentiss go talk to Garret’s widow. Morgan and I will go to the prison.” Y/N saluted Hotch at his order. “If Garret’s got a disciple, we need to find out who he is and fast.”

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

“Such a beautiful day for such a terrible thing to happen.” Y/N’s eyes looked up to the sky, observing the blue of it and the bright sun. She wasn’t really thinking about the case until she walked up the steps, always trying to fit the last of the good in before she saw the bad.

“I don’t think serial killers stop because of the weather, sweets,” Spencer said, raising an eyebrow at the thought.

“Hey, what did I say about nicknames at crime scenes,” Y/N said turning to Spencer who was slightly behind her.

He laughed lightly. “Not to use them, because you’re afraid they’ll be ruined,” he answered her remark.

“Exactly.” She pulled her credentials out of her back pocket to show the officer at the door. Walking into the house, a tall man turned around to greet the two.

“Hey, I’m detective Childers,” the tall man said walking up to Y/N to shake her hand. “You must be with the FBI.”

“Yes, I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is Dr.Reid.” Y/N pointed to her right to the lanky brunette.

“Hi,” Childers said, holding his hand out for Spencer to shake. Spencer offered the man a small wave, as usual, opting out of the handshake.

Y/N offered a smile to the detective in hopes of trying to make the awkward moment go away. “How about you show us the scene.” Y/N changed the subject.

“Yeah, why don’t y’all follow me back here,” Childers said as he led the two over to the bedroom. “It’s unbelievable this is happening all over again.”

“Who is she?” Spencer asked as they entered the bedroom.

“Jodie Armstrong, single, works a cosmetic counter at a department store downtown,” Childers answered.

The body laid in the exact position it was found. Duct tape still on the mouth and wrists, and the ice pick stabbed into her heart.

“Young, pretty, short blond hair,” Y/N said as she looked at the victim’s appearance. “That’s the same victimology as the others.” She turned her head to look at Spencer, who’s eyes had been wandering the room around them.

“Who discovered the body?” Spencer asked.

“Apartment manager. A neighbor called to complain that a teapot in the kitchen kept on whistling,” Childers explained.

“So he surprised her.” Y/N said, turning as she watched the struggle play out around her. She pictured the unsub pushing her down and tying her onto the bed.

The three separated as Childers went to go handle something out front and Spencer and Y/N stayed to look around the scene more. Y/N gloved her hands and squatted down next to the bed, looking closely at the victim’s head. Pushing her head to the side, she moved her hair to and fro as she examined the hair cut. She noticed it’s unevenness and well, basically, it was a shitty hair cut for such a pretty young girl to have.

“Hey, Spence, come look at this.” Spencer looked over at Y/N who was across the room from him.

“What is it?” He asked, setting down the CD he had been looking at to walk over.

“This girl is young and she obviously cares about her appearance, she’s fit, her nails are done,” she said, laying one finger on top of the other as the listed off the things she’s noticed. “But her hair, look at it, it’s uneven.” She picked up the phone that had headphones plugged into the jack and turned it on.

“Could it maybe be a fashion statement, you know, look bad on purpose?” Spencer asked looking next to him at Y/N.

She shook her head, looking through the phone in her hand. She began to look through some things in her photos before she found a selfie of Jodie and some of her friends. “Look at this,” she leaned over to show Spencer the photo.

With two of her fingers on the screen, she zoomed in on Jodie, who in the photo had very long blonde hair. “It was taken last night,” she said after pointing to the timestamp at the bottom corner of the photo. “The unsub cut her hair.”

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

In the station, the mood was serious. Two bulletin boards stood side by side with large maps placed on the. Spencer, Hotch, Y/N, and Derek sat in swivel chairs from desks in the area they were in. Behind them sat JJ, Emily, and Rossi, who were looking through letters that were sent to Rodney Garret’s home.

“This new guy’s hunting in a different neighborhood,” Childer’s spoke after looking at the map.

“He must be comfortable in the area, he knew the victims’ routines,” Derek stated.

“His method of ingress and egress is quiet and unnoticeable,” JJ said, leaning back in her chair.

“Get a load of this one,” Emily began as she turned in her chair with a letter. “Dear Mr. Garret: It took a lot of courage to do what you did. Most people are cowards and don’t do what they feel inside them. You are an inspiration, and I applaud you.”

When Emily had finished the letter, Y/N barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry for laughing but ‘I applaud you’?” She just shook her head, the letter being very funny to her in a weird way.

“These are supposed to be the non-wacko letters,” Rossi said.

Everyone raised their brows in question. A computer beeping signaling the arrival of Penelope’s on a screen got everyone’s attention.

“Hey guess what, Y/N’s genius has struck again,” Penelope began as she popped up on the screen. “The hunch about the hair was right, I’m sending you an ATM image of Cara Smith. She’s the first victim, this was taken ten hours before her murder check it out.”

At that, everyone’s attention was brought to a screen. The video showing Cara walking up to the machine with very long hair compared to what was left on her body.

“The unsub cut her hair too,” Childers said as he looked at the video.

“You know, there could be a sexual element involved. Trichophilia is a fetish where one becomes aroused by the removal of hair,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, but, either way, this is starting to look less like a copycat,” Y/N said looking next to her at Spencer.

“The unsub’s deviating too much from Garret’s M.O., Garret never took trophies,” Derek said in agreement.

“He’s also choosing low-risk victims, Garret’s stayed with high-risk target- prostitutes, runaways--” Spencer said but was cut off by JJ.

“Garret also got sloppy and left clues that eventually nailed him, this guy’s careful and meticulous,” JJ said.

“He’s not that careful,” Childers corrected. “He leaves doors open, teapots boiling.”

“I think it’s intentional. He wants the bodies found so we know when and where he’s killing,” Hotch said.

The room fell silent again, everyone getting back to their work. Little conversation was made, Emily or Rossi reading off an obscure letter or Y/N saying something about the geographical profile to Spencer. All conversation halted due to Childers getting a call that there was another body.

“Reid and Y/N, come with me to the scene.” Hotch stood up, Y/N and Spencer following his request out of the room and to the scene.

Walking into the house, Y/N took note of how it was kept and lived in by the victim. She did so in hopes of gathering something for victimology. After noticing she fell behind Hotch and Spencer, she quickly caught up to them as they entered the bedroom.

The blonde woman laid on her back, her arms duct-taped to the foot of the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she almost looked peaceful, but the ice pick in her heart told them otherwise.

Hotch squatted down to the bedside and examined the side of her head that was exposed.

“He shaved her head,” Hotch commented. Y/N and Spencer stood on either side of him, looking over the body from behind their unit chief.

“That’s even more humiliation and disrespect,” Y/N said. She turned her head sideways as she looked at the poor and almost frantic shaved spot.

“He didn’t do it to the other victims.” Hotch stood up as he spoke, looking at Childers who was on the other side of the bed.

“Detective when was the body discovered?” Y/N asked.

“Half hour ago, the killer left the front and back doors open,” Childers responded. “And there’s no indication of any contact on the wine glasses swabbed for DNA.” He gestured to the CSI unit that was brushing the wine glass behind him.

“Not even the victims?” Spencer asked. His face doing its normal twist as he thought.

“The unsub probably wiped it clean,” Y/N said. The upper half of her body turned to her left to look at Hotch and Spencer.

“Has anyone found an open or empty wine bottle in the house?” Hotch asked, turning back to the detective after looking at Y/N.

“We haven’t found one yet.” Childers shook his head.

“He probably took it with him, like the flowers of his first victim,” Spencer commented.

“He’s killed at six A.M., noon, and now six P.M.,” Hotch said, looking between Y/N and Spencer.

“That’s not a long cooling-off period.” Y/N spook with a sigh as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not feeling so good about the stroke of midnight.” Spencer’s eyes bounced between the three in front of him. All of them nodding their heads in agreement at the comment.

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

“We believe we’re looking for a white male between the ages of thirty and forty who is strong enough to subdue physically fit young women with minimum resistance,” Hotch said. The team stood in front of a crowd of local officers as they told the profile. Rossi and Emily had found out that the same man that wrote the letter Emily had read to them were some of Garret’s favorites. Taking that, they presumed that the man who wrote the letters was more than likely the unsub.

“He’s forensically sophisticated and evidence-conscious,” Derek added.

“He targets his victims in advance and leaves no trail.” Y/N stepped forward as she spoke, coming into line with Derek.

“This person is also confident.” Emily paused, then continued. “He’s been taunting us by revealing his crime scene quickly.”

“Because of his ability to plan and flawlessly execute his crimes, we’re looking for someone capable of holding down a job. Even though it’s probably menial and unfulfilling,” Rossi said. His hands stuffed into his pockets as his shoulder shrugged when he spoke.

“The victims have all been young, blonde, and pretty. As such, they reflect a certain societal standard of perfection that may actually represent the type of women that are unattainable to this unsub,” Spencer explained.

“He cuts his victims’ hair, and then he takes it with him, this could be another way for him to possess a part of them,” Y/N said, bouncing off of Spencer’s statement.

“Or to degrade these unattainable women, make them uglier,” JJ added on to Y/N’s words.

“The killer has been murdering in six-hour increments. He is, in effect, time-stamping his victims, there’s no reason to believe he will deviate from that now,” Rossi said.

“Which means the next kill will be at midnight.” Y/N emphasized her words as she spoke.

“The public needs to be alerted to stay off the streets for all non-essential activities,” JJ said. “Single women should not be in their homes alone,” she continued, her warning to the people relaying its importance.

“Every available officer will be out in full force tonight, we need to blanket this city,” Emily commanded. The officer’s around the room nodding that they understood.

“We do have one advantage,” Hotch began. “A killer who uses this kind of precise timing and specificity is easy to disrupt. We can use his own M.O. against him,” he explained. The officer’s around the room were then dismissed and went to get ready for the night out.

As the sunset fell over the city of Enid, the officers suited up and began to canvas the town. Emily and Derek joined them while the others stayed back and helped run point. While they waited, they had Penelope do some more digging into Garret to find out who the unsub might be.

“What you got, Garcia?” JJ asked as she answered the call from Penelope.

“I have found a thing of interest regarding these shanking attempts made on Garret in prison,” Penelope began.

“What is it?” Hotch asked, curious as to what she found.

“The timing, see, the first time Garret was attacked was May 25, 2008, the day before that, May 24, for those of you keeping score, Garret’s imminent execution date was postponed, right?” Penelope’s question was rhetorical so everyone stayed quiet as she continued.

“So then if you flash forward to the second shanking attempt of stabby-ness, that would be November 15, 2010. The day before that, his next execution date, also postponed.” When Penelope had finished her explanation everyone was basically one the same page of what was happening.

“Okay, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say someone decided to take matters into their own hands,” Y/N said. She crossed her arms across her chest and popped her hip to the side, the resting position she stood in when she thought.

“Thanks, Garcia,” JJ said, her finger hovering over the hang-up button on the computer.

“Ever welcome, my comrades.” JJ hung up the call and turned back to those behind her.

“Well, that sounds like what you would think of somebody on the outside wanting a little revenge,” Childers said, his head turning to Rossi and Hotch beside him.

“They wouldn’t wait five years, give it two tires, and then toss in the towel,” Rossi stated, his head shaking as he didn’t believe that theory.

“It sounds to me like someone just needed Rod Garret out of the way,” JJ said, adding in her own theory.

“But Garret was on death row, confined to his cell 23 hours a day. How was he in anybody’s way?” Hotch questioned, both theories not making sense now.

“Since we’re on the subject of things that don’t make sense, the unsub left the doors open after the murders,” Y/N said, bringing in a new topic in hopes of coming up with something new.

“Okay, that’s directed at law enforcement-- catch me if you can,” Rossi responded to Y/N’s thought.

“But the cutting of the hair,” Y/N said her voice trailing off in question.

“That’s for Garret,” Hotch finished, knowing what Y/N was thinking now.

Rossi nodded agreeing with Y/N.

“Well, what makes you think that?” Childers asked her.

“Well, Garret chose victims who were easy prey-- drug addicts and prostitutes. But this unsub has chosen more difficult targets but gone to the trouble of making them look like Garret’s victims,” Hotch answered, turning to Childers.

“That’s his way of telling Garret, ‘I can do better than you’,” Rossi elaborated.

“Okay, but why wait until after the execution to start killing? If the unsub really wanted to thumb his nose at Garret, wouldn’t he want him to be alive to see it?” JJ asked, not fully understanding this theory.

“Exactly, that’s the part that doesn’t make sense.” Y/N pointed as she spoke.

“Them we’re missing something,” Hotch said.

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

When the sun rose, the team had been at the station all night. In the early morning hours, another victim was found with a different M.O., stab wounds. Since the unsub could not kill his victim properly, this led them to believe that the killer could go on a spree. The unsub also removed her scalp this time, taking away most of her hair.

The clock on the table flipped to 9:44 A.M., and Y/N’s eyes were heavy. She laid on a bench, her head resting on Spencer’s thigh. His hand rested on his arm that was propped on the railing of the bench. The two sat peacefully, Y/N was not totally asleep, but her mind was in and out of full consciousness from the long night. She wasn’t totally sure if Spencer was asleep either, his body not moving which she was grateful for. His warmth was what kept her so at peace, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay like that for long.

“I never could do that,” Rossi stated as he looked at Y/N and Spencer who had their eyes closed.

“Do what?” Emily asked, her eyes following Rossi’s over to the sleepy couple. She let out a small ‘awe’ as she noticed the two.

“Take a nap, it never felt natural,” Rossi answered, not appreciating the cute moment.

“I’m actually wide awake,” Spencer said, sitting up from his position. His movement stirred Y/N as she moved to get comfortable again, but never opening her eyes.

“But for future reference, polyphasic sleep is completely natural. Quite common in the animal world, and highly beneficial.” His eyes panned to Y/N who was still, he believed, asleep on his lap. “However, I believe Y/N is very much taking a real nap.”

“Shhhh.” Y/N reached one of her hands to her lips sleepily, placing her index finger on her lips. She sighed after a second and sat up, realizing she was now fully awake and there was no going back to whatever state of sleep she was in before. “Okay, I give I’m awake.”

“All right, six o’clock’s way come and gone, if our guys killed again, he’s not leaving the front door open,” JJ said after looking at the clock.

“Or he could just be taking a breather,” Derek posed the counter. “I mean, even the unsub has to realize he can’t keep up this pace indefinitely.”

“Maybe the last murder completed some sort of cycle,” Rossi said, saying his thoughts aloud.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, leaning her forearms on her thighs.

“A day and a night have passed, the sun rises for the first time in a world without Rod Garret,” Rossi answered, his hands moving as he spoke.

“There could also be a more mundane reason, our guys got a job, and yesterday was his day off,” Emily said.

“He killed his first three victims in their homes-” Hotch pointed to the markers on the map where the homes were- “But the last victims, Emily Sisk, he tried to but he couldn’t. SO he abducted her, took her somewhere else, and then brought her all the way back to dump her body in front of her apartment building.” Hotch’s voice got slightly aggressive as he spoke, irritated as to why he didn’t know how that happened.

“That’s incredibly risky considering all the increased police presence,” Y/N said, agreeing with Hotch.

“There’s gotta be a geographic component to the unsub’s design,” Hotch said turning back to the map on the board.

“Let’s connect the dots, literally.” Spencer stood up from his seat next to Y/N and walked to the board. He pulled a red marker out of his pocket and drew lines to connect all four homes.

The lines formed an upside-down arrow almost.

“A tip of a spear,” Emily guessed, turning this into a game of Pictionary.

Y/N walked up to the board to get a closer look at the design. Her head cocked to the side as she thought.

“Maybe it’s an arrow pointing south? Could he be steering us to his next victim?” Derek asked as he pointed to the bottom of the arrow.

“It’s a quadrilateral, but there’s nothing particularly symbolic about a four-sided concave polygon,” Spencer said, pointing out the math of the shape.

“Spence, can I?” Y/N said reaching for the marker in his hand. Spencer nodded, handing her the red marker. “Look what happens when you curve the lines.” She drew curves over the lines the Spencer drew, forming something in the shape of a heart.

“A heart,” Emily said, eyes trained on the drawing.

“Well, Garret and the unsub both killed their victims using stab wounds through the heart,” Derek said.

“And Garret was executed by a shot through the heart,” Rossi continued the theory.

Hotch then moved the clear map of all the roads and homes over the heart drawing on the board. In the center of the heart sat the home of Rod Garret’s wife, Helen Garret.

“Helen Garret,” Emily realized as Hotch put the map on top of the other.

“It’s all about her,” Hotch said, confirming the speculation Emily made.

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

After JJ, Rossi, and Hotch established that Helen was probably at the prison since she was not home, the rest of the team made their way there. When the others met up with them, all of them in their kevlar’s ready to take action, they met outside the gates of the prison to talk.

“So nobody saw what happened, but Helen’s car is still in the parking lot,” JJ said walking up to the group with Rossi and the warden.

“He’s got her,” Hotch said.

“The driver’s name is Dylan Kohler, he lives at 4488 Harmony Court,” the Warden said identifying the unsub.

“Did he work yesterday, Warden?” Y/N asked.

“No, he arranged for someone else to take his shift,” the Warden answered.

“I’ll have Garcia check into Kohler, but now that he’s tipped his hand, I doubt if he’s going back home,” Rossi stated, pulling out his phone to call Penelope.

“All right, Morgan, take Reid, Y/N, and Prentiss to the house of Kohler, see if they’re there just in case.” Derek nodded, then gestured for the three to follow him to a car to go to the home.

When they arrived at the home of Dylan Kohler, there was no sign of him or Helen. They headed out of the house to go back to the prison.

“Yeah, Hotch, they’re not here,” Derek said to Hotch when he answered the phone.

“Where the hell could they be?” Y/N asked looking to Spencer next to her as she holstered her gun. He shrugged his shoulders, opening the door for Y/N. She climbed in hoping to the seat on the left and Spencer sitting on the one on the right.

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

After finding Garret’s secret hideout, the team wrapped up the case, saving Helen Garret and were now on their way home. Y/N sat in the seat across from Spencer, eyes glancing at him every once and a while as he read. His finger trailing down the page, his steady breathing, and the curve of his nose entranced her as she looked at him.

She was sleepy, there was no doubt about it. Yet, her eyes couldn’t close as she looked at him, too caught up in his domestic feel to let it be intruded on by sleep that she desperately needed.

Tell him, the voice in her head whispered. Tell him how much you love him.

She couldn’t, at least not yet. Not until she knew that Caroline was out of sight, or if he said it first. But something in her told her that he knew she loved him. Simple acts like saying you need sleep or hold my hand was ways she was able to say she loved and cared for him without having to voice it.

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted though by the beeping of a computer from behind her in.

“Oh, hey, guys, hey,” Penelope said with a sleepy voice. Y/N turned in her chair to listen to the conversation. “I just wanted to see what was going on.”

“This better be important, Garcia,” Emily said irritated as she was woken from her slumber.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Penelope was playing it off, the excitement in her voice giving it away. “It’s just that a messenger came by the office today with some papers from Escrow!” Her voice was sing-song at the end.

Emily’s face became very surprised. “No!” She said, astonished and not believing the blonde on the screen.

“Oh, yes, the house in Dupont Circle-- you got it! Whoo!” Penelope was throwing confetti at the screen in excitement.

“Oh my God, Em, that’s so exciting!” Y/N said happily as she sat on her knees in her chair to face Emily.

“Congratulations,” Hotch said with a smile.

Then, Emily’s face fell and she looked like she was going to be sick. Y/N and Spencer stood up to sit on the couch so they could be closer to the conversation.

“Six seconds, fastest case of buyers remorse ever,” Rossi said, looking down at his watch then at Emily.

“Well, I say the moment we land, we all head over to Ziggy’s and clear out the champaign inventory,” Derek said sitting next to JJ.

“And talk Prentiss down off the ledge,” JJ chuckled as she looked at Emily’s horrified face.

“Oh, my stomach doesn’t feel so hot.” Emily clutched her stomach.

They all let out a small laugh at Emily’s reaction.

“I was in the middle of the best dream,” JJ said changing the topic. “I dreamt that I was at this exclusive salon getting my hair done.”

The toll from the event of the last two days pressing themselves on her dreams. The thought of having a wig made of human scalp and hair placed on her head made Y/N shudder at the thought when she was told.

“Ah, the psychotherapeutic benefits of dreams-- purging unpleasant images and replacing them with good ones,” Spencer said, giving insight on to why we dream things like that.

“Yeah, ‘unpleasant’ is putting it mildly, bub,” Y/N said looking at Spencer next to her.

“If someone put a bloody wig on my head, I would have ripped that thing off and kept it off.” JJ thought back to how Helen let the wig sit on her head when they found her.

“Well, you’d think instinct would take over,” Derek said agreeing with JJ.

“Oh, hey, Rossi, I meant to ask you, what did Helen mean at the end when she said ‘daddy was right’?” JJ asked turning to look at Rossi across from her.

Rossi let out an annoyed sigh. “He once told her that she was a divining rod for the evil in men. That she could sniff it out when nobody else could.”

“There was definitely something a little strange about her,” Emily said as she recalled the time she and Rossi had to speak with her.

“It’s curious, one woman at the center of two serial killers.” Hotch’s voice was low as he voiced his thought.

“Yeah, what are the odds of that?” Y/N said, her question being rhetorical but she knew Spencer would answer.

“Astronomical.”

Ah, there’s the answer, Y/N thought.

“Removing from the calculations serial killer groupies--” Spencer was cut off by Hotch lightly hitting her arm to have him stop.

“Y/N, why’d you ask?” JJ laughed. Y/N just shrugged, knowing she’d get the answer she kinda wanted to hear later.

“You know, whether she knew it or not, maybe Helen Garret did give Dylan something,” Derek said as he thought more into it. “I mean someone once said that every seed, even malignant ones, they won’t grow unless they get water from someplace.”

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

That night, after going out to celebrate Emily’s new house, Y/N walked into her home. Stumbling as her lips were connected to Spencer's. The impromptu makeout session starting at the door when Spencer started to say goodnight, but Y/N had a little too much champaign and really wanted a good ‘ole fashion junior-high makeout session.

She pushed him back to her couch, the two giggling like thirteen-year-olds as they kissed. She straddled his lap as they continued to kiss. It was childish and full of smiles and teeth as they giggled. Still, the kiss was full of love and tenderness as Spencer would caress the side of her face with his large hands. Or when she would grab the front of his sweater to pull him closer to her.

“I really need to go home,” Spencer said. His lips brushing against Y/N’s as he spoke.

She didn’t listen and kept placing pecks on his lips before she let their lips mold together in bliss.

“No,” she protested quietly as she pulled away, then went back to his lips.

He chuckled, trying to pull back again to speak, but her lips chased his. “I’m not taking advantage of you, sweets,” he said gentlemanly.

She sighed, knowing that she was slightly drunk and he wasn’t going to keep going since she was. “Fine, but you owe me.” She poked his chest with every word. “Always a gentleman, even when I’m horny, but it’s fine.” Her words were a slur of mutters under her breath, but he heard her and laughed.

“Always.” He pecked her lips one more time as she stood up and led him to the door.

Once Spencer had given her one more kiss goodnight, promising her a coffee in the morning at work, she closed the door and turned to the inside of her apartment. A sigh of relief leaving her as she stepped further into her safe environment. She took her boots off and placed them by the door and moved her keys she dropped on the floor in the bowl on the table. She began to walk to her kitchen but stopped when her eyes caught glimpse of a letter.

She hastily pulled the wax seal back to open it, but became confused as she looked at the note.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

She laughed, it was a pathetic line to spook her that wouldn’t work. She put the note back in the envelope and placed it with others.

She thought nothing of it. She didn’t think she would need too, but everything Caroline did had meaning. This too would show it’s meaning soon.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore @peterparkersdestiny @bandsandjill @mbowles23-blog @sarcasm-n-insomnia @citrussirus @nerual222 @april-14-blog @reidloversisforever @heavenlyholland

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds meme #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal mids fic #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Never Let Me Go: Part 1 of 2

Summary/Author's Notes: Confession time. I have been @stevieharrrr 's "Daily Carrillo Thirst Anon" for some time now. Y'all seemed to really want this! So, after some idea bouncing, friendly threatening, and overall caps-lock screaming at one another, this is my poker chip that I am raising Stevie in the Carrillo feels war. (This takes place in season 2... episode 4)

Pairing: Col. Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ -- SMUT, oral f!receiving, fingering, THICC CARRILLO ARMS/HANDS, language, violence, CHARACTER DEATH (I'm not kidding with this one y'all, I know it fucks me up when I read it in fic so you have been warned.) Cannon-divergence, this is a FIX IT FIC, if that makes you feel better. Gif by @el-cheung

And the questions I have for a sinner like me

But the arms of the ocean deliver me

MASTERLIST

Being married to Horacio had never been easy. You had lost count of the number of times you had moved, the number of houses you both had tried to make a home, and the number of times you had almost thrown in the towel. The key word being almost.

Colonel Horacio Carillo was a man's man. If anyone opened up a dictionary and looked up the word 'brave', a picture of your husband would be underneath. Along with the word reckless, cunning, ruthless, and a whole slew of other things that his superiors like to throw in his face when something didn't go according to plan. His strong resolve kept the underlying volcano of his rage carefully under wraps. And if you asked the man himself, he would attribute it entirely to you. According to him, the moment he put that ring on your finger was the moment he had a reason to not give in to his unbridled savagery, his desire to get the job done no matter what it cost. And so far, you were okay with that. You could play the dutiful wife on the sidelines, you could be his anchor, because as soon as his feet crossed the threshold of your home, he was no longer Bogetà's Atlas. He finally got to take all of Columbia off of his shoulders and fall into your waiting arms.

And that's the reason when you received the call that he would be working late for the third night in a row, you decided to do something about it. Hanging up the phone, you got dressed, pulling that small floral print dress that he loved so much over your head. You shimmied it down your ass and it just ghosted the middle of your thighs. The small pink and red flowers on top of the wispy white fabric made your skin look softer somehow, grabbable--at least that's what your husband had told you the first time you wore it out to the farmer's market. You picked up the phone again and called in his favorite take out from the small shop around the corner, balancing the receiver against your shoulder as you put on a touch of makeup and a bright pink lip stain.

By the time you arrived, the precinct was winding down for the night. A few of the regulars were standing around, and there was a general uneasiness in the air. Your high heels clicked against the laminate floor and it sounded way too loud, making you second guess your apparel.

"Mhm, what's that smell?"

Javier Peña turned from his pair of desks as you made your way across the office with the bag of takeout hanging over your forearm, your car keys jingling in your hand.

"Good evening, boys," you gave a small wave at the two DEA agents and continued on your path.

"Where's mine?" Steve Murphy, Javier's partner asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Sorry, Steve," you laughed softly, walking backwards a couple of steps. "Next time, okay?"

"Carrillo's a lucky son of a bitch!" Steve called after you and you shook your head feeling your cheeks blush. Javier mumbled something undoubtedly crude under his breath and Steve elbowed him in the ribs drawing a grunt from his partner before they both sat back to work.

Boys. That's what the two of them were and you weren't sure how Horacio put up with it all day. You raised a hand and tapped your knuckles against the glass bearing your own last name.

"Come in."

His voice made your shoulders relax. You let out a breath that you felt like you had been holding for the last three days, and walked into his office, closing the door behind you.

Colonel Carrillo looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and his eyes widened. Clearly expecting literally anyone but you to walk through his office door and it was humorous just how quickly his stoic persona melted in front of your eyes. He stood up abruptly, taking off his glasses and saying softly, "Mi amor?"

"Hey," you said, setting the to-go bag on a clear spot of his desk. "I thought you might be hungry."

"You didn't have to do this," he said, still looking surprised that you were actually standing in front of him. He stopped down as you offered your cheek to him and he gave it a small peck.

"I know."

"Ernesto's?" He raised an eyebrow and looked into the bag, inhaling deeply.

"Mhm," you nodded, reaching in and taking out the styrofoam boxes one at a time.

Carrillo rubbed his chin, looking you over slowly before shaking his head with a grin. "Thank you." He walked around the desk slowly, twisting the string on the blinds to his office window until they closed fully. You didn't look up from your task of setting out dinner until you heard the firm 'click' of the lock on the door.

"Horacio?" You asked over your shoulder as he rubbed his palms together and walked back over to you.

"So we won't be bothered," he said simply with a shrug and you nodded.

"When is the last time you ate?" You asked, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"I had coffee this morning." He admitted rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You knew you were the only one that ever got to see that flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, like he had somehow disappointed you. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of his actions, but your opinion was always held in his highest regard.

"Coffee is not a food group. How many times do I have to tell you that?" You said, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

"Of course it is. Because you know what I'm like without it." He chuckled.

"Oh, I absolutely do," you laughed. "A bear in a uniform--"

Your hands paused on the food as you felt his large arms slide around your waist, his tender lips finding their way to the base of your neck. Was he trying to distract you from your current annoyance at his poor excuse for nutrition? Maybe. Was it working? Also maybe.

"I haven't seen this dress in awhile," he mumbled against your skin, removing one of his arms to pull your hair to the side and out of his way. He kissed his way up your neck then back down to your shoulder, soft feather light touches that made your eyes close for a brief second.

"You haven't been home in awhile." It was meant as a joke, a harmless jest, but your smile fell as you felt him tense behind you. You turned in his arms slowly, putting both hands on his broad chest. "I didn't mean it like that." You whispered, fingers playing along the collar of his army green button up. Your fingers traced the path against the embroidered name badge over his heart and you wished you hadn't said anything. The moments you did get together lately were so brief that any that weren't dedicated to loving one another felt like time wasted.

He didn't want to be gone all of the time. He made sure you knew that. The war on Escobar wouldn't wait just because one man's wife was missing him. There were plenty of men who never returned home. Escobar had left many widows in the wake of his cocaine empire and every time the man in front of you walked through the door and into your arms you thanked your lucky stars. You didn't believe in much, but you thanked every deity that might have been listening for keeping him safe.

"I know," he said, trying to give you a smile but unable to keep the sadness off of the edges.

"Come on," you said, nodding to the food. "It's gonna get cold."

"Not yet."

He kept his arms firmly planted around your waist, his hands slipping lower to take two huge handfuls of your ass. The movement made the dress lift slightly, the material bunching in his grip. You gave him a surprised look and he bit his lip, playfully waggling his eyebrows at you. It made you giggle. God, how you missed him when he wasn't home. This playful, boyish side of him that made you walk on air. The side of him that made it seem like you both were young and in love and didn't live in a war torn country.

"I thought you were hungry?" You asked as he continued his way up your neck to the shell of your ear.

"I am." He worked his way back down, kissing the tops of your breasts as he walked you a step backwards against his desk. "But not for take out."

"Even Ernesto's?" You gave a mock gasp of shock and smiled, letting your fingers card through his hair as he pulled the scoop neck of your dress down and squeezed your breast in his large hand. "I thought it was your favorite!"

"There's something I like more," he said, looking up at you with dark brown eyes, refusing to lift his lips from the mound of your breasts. It made the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Here?" You asked and as a response he reached around you and shoved a stack of files off of his desk and to the ground with a loud clunk.

"Yes. Here." His words were firm and he shoved a few books off of the desk to join the papers on the floor. He gripped your waist and picked you up to sit you on the edge of his desk, nudging your thighs open with his knee and standing between them. "Think you can be quiet, dulzura?"

"You know the answer to that," you giggled again, cupping his face in both of your hands as he closed in on you. You were not a quiet lover and he often told you it was one of his favorite things. The way you said his name as he brought you through your orgasm was his most favorite song and he liked when it was turned up loud.

You reached for the front of his dark slacks, palming the bulge at the front of his pants and he gripped your wrist with a shake of his head. "Not yet," he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it before putting it back on the desk. He put his hands up the dress and gripped your underwear, sliding them over your hips and down your legs. The lace got tangled on the heel of your pump and you kicked them off with a shake of your foot.

"Kiss me again," you demanded with a shaky breath and he happily obliged.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as one arm held you tightly and his other hand went up your dress. His thick fingers pressed against your labia and you moaned into his mouth as he began to run them up and down, slowly spreading your wetness. He pressed your clit and you jolted, it was too much too quickly and you gripped his neck.

"Mi amor?" He asked and when you hummed in response he continued. "Lift your dress."

You did as you were told. With excited hands and a hammering heart, he helped you pull the soft material up over your thighs, letting it bunch around your waist as he went to his knees in front of you. Those dark, chocolate colored eyes that you loved with all of your heart never strayed from your own as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. He let out a small noise of content as you ran your fingers through his hair and the noise carried over as he pressed his mouth to your aching cunt. With a gasp and your head thrown back, your hair cascading down your back, your husband would have said that you looked like a vision--if his mouth wasn't already preoccupied.

Carrillo's hands slid around each of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh and keeping them wide open for his broad shoulders to sit comfortably in the middle. His tongue slipped through your wet pussy like it had a hundred times before, but it still made you moan his name softly to the empty office around you. Your husband may have been a man of few words, but he liked to say he used his mouth for much more precious things.

He sucked each of your folds separately, a soft pop sound coming each time he moved to the next spot. When he finally closed his mouth around your clit, you gasped sharply and grabbed his hand that was resting on top of your thigh and squeezed it.

"There?" He mumbled from between your legs and you nodded.

"There. Right there."

"Right there. Mhmm, I see," he teased your desperation but continued to oblige your request. He worked his jaw against you in such a way that you imagined he was coating his face with your juices like you were the most delicious of fruits. The wonderfully crude image made your cunt twitch and he groaned.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he continued to suck your clit. You wanted so much more right now. You wanted his cock inside of you. You wanted his hand around your neck. You wanted him to flip you over and take your ass. Suddenly you wished more than anything that the two of you were home so you didn't have to pick what you wanted most, you just had to pick which one you wanted first.

"Horacio," you moaned his name, rocking your hips forward gently against his chin. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, the feeling of how well he knew your body started to overwhelm you. In the years you had been together he had taken so much time memorizing every spot that made you sigh, every place that made you break out in goosebumps, and every series of movements that had you falling apart in his arms.

He loved you fully, completely, and unconditionally.

The orgasm he brought you with his mouth took you from your thoughts as you clenched your thighs around his head suddenly. "I'm cuming!" You gasped desperately just before you felt the rush of heat flood your core down through your legs. It made you bend forward over him and open your eyes, moaning loudly as you saw him looking up at you, watching you orgasm in his hands as his mouth continued to ravage your aching cunt.

"Come on, baby," he squeezed your hand, feeling you clench again against his mouth and it was too much.

"Stop, stop," you said with a shaky voice to match your quivering legs. You grabbed two fistfuls of his button up and pulled, making him get to his feet and slam his mouth against yours.

He grunted against your lips as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, greedily tasting your own wetness on him. He cursed quietly in Spanish as you pulled his shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his pants. Your hands went to his belt and you slowed down, suddenly remembering you were in the precinct.

"Do--" you swallowed hard, trying to breathe normally as you spoke against his face. "Do you have time?"

"For you? Siempre," he slid his fingers in your hair at your temple and cradled the back of your head. "Siempre, mi amor."

Always.

You blushed a little, your fingers starting to unbutton his shirt as he kissed you gently and kept hold of your hair. With each button your heart raced faster, you smiled against his lips as he slipped his tongue back inside your mouth, expertly colliding it with your own. His kisses always felt like they were going to devour you from the inside out. He kissed with such an intensity that you knew from the first time he pressed his mouth to yours all those years ago you would willingly allow him to consume you.

You clenched your thighs around his waist and let your heels drop to the floor behind him. He ran his hand down the curve of your ass and hitched your leg further up on his hip, dipping you down to lay on his desk. He grinned down at you and started to open his mouth to say something but was stopped short by a hurried knock against the glass.

"Carrillo!" Javier called from the other side of the office door.

"Go away," he returned, throwing his voice in the direction of the door, leaning down to kiss your breasts.

"Messina needs us. We got a hit off of the wire taps--it could be Escobar." There was a pause as he tried the door but it was still locked. "We gotta go!"

Carrillo's shoulders fell slightly and ran a hand over his face before helping you sit up. "Coming!" He helped you pull your dress over your breasts and started buttoning his shirt back up. "Lo siento, mi amor." He said quietly and you shook your head.

"It's okay." You bit your lip as you watched him tuck his shirt back into his pants and he hissed softly. "Sorry about that," you nodded towards the bulge against his zipper as he did his belt.

He chuckled and kissed you on the cheek, bending over to pick up your thong and held it out to you in offering. "I'm not. It'll give me something to look forward to when this search comes up empty like all of the others."

You took your underwear from him and smiled as you slipped off of his desk and put them back on. "I take it I should put the food in the fridge?"

He nodded and put his hands on his hips as he watched you fondly finish redressing. "I'll be home late."

You cupped his face giving his cheek a gentle pat and a nod. "And I'll be asleep." You smiled as best you could but you knew he could see the twinge of sadness in the corners of your mouth. The number of times he crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning far outweighed the number of times the two of you got to go to bed at the same time.

Carrillo grabbed your hand before you could turn away and kissed your knuckles, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could without hurting you. As he walked to the door and unlocked it, he looked over his shoulder and said seriously, "I love you."

"I love you, too," you barely managed to get out before he unlocked the door and he and Javier walked briskly down the hall, leaving you to tidy up and head home.

When the knock at your front door came, you were already in bed and sound asleep. The oscillating fan of your bedroom was breathing a cool breeze across your body as you snuggled deeper into the comforter. The bed hugged you like it knew you better than anyone else in the world, and apart from your husband, it probably did. The knock came again and you groaned because it meant that you hadn't been dreaming about the first one.

You leaned up and pushed your hair to the side, looking at the side table that held your alarm clock and a lamp. "Fuck," you mumbled as bright red numbers told you it was almost three in the morning. Three AM? Where the hell was Horacio? You touched his side of the bed as if to confirm what your eyes were already telling you--he still hadn't come home.

The knock came again.

"Shit," you cursed again, turning on the lamp and opening the drawer to grab the hand gun that you knew was there.

The 9mm felt cool in the palm of your hand as you checked the magazine for ammo before slamming it into place and pulling the cartridge back to slide a single bullet down the chamber. You grabbed your robe and wrapped it around your shoulders, tying it tightly and hurrying across the bedroom barefoot. You saw the flashing red and blue lights outside the front room window as they ran along the walls of your home, chasing each other over and over, casting shadows on the entire room. The fact that there were no sirens paired with them made you feel uneasy--that was never a good sign.

The knock came again, this time it was apparent that whoever it was was pounding their fist against the wooden paneling of the door. Leaning up on your tip-toes you looked out the peephole and recognized the somber face of Javier Peña. You hurried and put the gun on the table in the mudroom before flinging open the front door and asking him accusingly.

"Javi?? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Your voice sounded foreign even to you. Your heart hammered against your ribs as your eyes frantically searched the two police cars behind him for your husband.

"(Y/n)..." Javier said quietly as he leaned against your door frame, one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"What's wrong?" You said as he shifted uncomfortably on your doorstep. In the back of your mind you already knew what he was about to tell you, but you wanted him to say it. If he didn't say the words out loud then they would never become real. The news he was about to give you was a stone, and unless he threw it, it would never be allowed to shatter your entire existence.

"There's been an accident." He said flatly, forcing himself to look you in the eyes. You glanced over his shoulder and saw Steve leaning against the hood of the Jeep with his arms crossed, looking at the ground. The other officers in uniform wouldn't look at you either and you knew your next question was a foolish one.

"Is he hurt?" You asked in a meek voice. Hurt you could handle. Hurt you could work with. But you knew before you even opened the door tonight that hoping that he was only hurt was a faulicy that your brain entertained purely to keep you from fainting on the hardwood floor.

"(Y/n)," Javier tried again, moving his arms from the door frame as he started to put his hands on your shoulders.

"I need to see him," you blurted out as Javi's hands clasped your biceps. You tried to shove him off. If he touched you, it was over. If he held you it was all over. If Horacio Carrillo was alive then he would have already told you to get dressed and get in the car. No, comfort meant trying to diffuse the ticking time bomb that was a woman about to learn that she was a widow.

"I can't--" Javier tried and you jerked your arms out of his grasp.

"Take me to him, Javi. Let me see him!"

"I can't do that. There's nothing--"

"Shut up! Don't you dare--" you raised your hands and he was faster than you and grabbed both of your wrists, holding them to his chest. "Don't you fucking dare! Where is he? Where's my husband--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated as you finally gave in.

He kept his hands on your arms as your knees buckled out from under you and you slowly sank to the concrete stoop. Javi followed you down, pulling you against his leather jacket and letting you scream against his chest. You would have screamed all night if your vocal cords would have allowed it. But it wasn't long before the screaming turned to sobs and the sobbing turned to silent gasps as your body couldn't seem to figure out the appropriate noise to make to express your anguish.

You felt his voice against your hair as he spoke Spanish softly in your ear. Only catching half of it, you nodded helplessly as he told you it had been a quick death, that it was no secret around the office how deeply Horacio loved you, and other forms of condolence that didn't do a damn thing to stop the meticulous tearing of your heart within your chest.

He was gone. Not even twelve hours ago he had been in your hands, against your skin, warm and alive and looking at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. And now...nothing. You felt Javi's hand in your hair as you heard Steve's boots approaching the both of you quietly and respectfully. They were trying. They had been saddled with the task of telling you because they were friends of the Colonel. But as the tears started up again and you felt Javi's arms tighten around your shoulders, you desperately wished they belonged to someone else.

Permanent Tag List: @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @cosmicbug379 @winters-buck @rae-gar-targaryen @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor Please let me know if you want to be added to my Permanent Tag list or of I tagged you by mistake. I have done a shit job of keeping track of the Permanent list and I am trying to fix that. ❤️

#narcos #Horacio Carrillo #colonel carrillo #Carrillo x reader #narcos fic #i promise its gonna be okay #Horacio Carrillo x reader

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angelictaehyun · 4 years

Text

PAIRING: guardian angel!taehyun x fem!reader

GENRE: guardian angel au, soulmate au, fluff, angst

WC. 8,400+

WARNINGS: major character(s) illness, minor alcohol usage, mild language

SYNOPSIS: Kang Taehyun, a sassy, young guardian angel, didn’t think anyone could be more of an absolute mess… boy, was he mistaken.

PART ONE || PART TWO || INTERLUDE || PART THREE

taehyun was right, something you didn’t care much to admit.

you absolutely adored kai.

if you searched “lovable younger brother” in a dictionary, no doubt kai’s picture would appear beside the definition. he was childish, a bit odd, sweet as honey, and outstandingly attentive. the dynamic was quite different with him. he was just as protective and loving as taehyun, but there was a complete lack of emotional attachment.

you found it refreshing.

with taehyun, it was almost like you were drawn to each other both physically and mentally as if a string were pulling you together. the longer you remained apart, the more you hurt, but you hid it as best as possible— kai was bright and bubbly, you didn’t like the idea of him seeing anything less than that.

you fiddled with the fabric of your blanket, mind full of incoherent thoughts, while kai engrossed himself with the movie on the television screen. lately, you often found yourself like this— detached and numb. however, if there was one person to reel you back from the empty feeling, it was kai. you watched him with a fond smile. you were thankful for the young boy, just being in his high-spirited presence, seeing his smile, hearing his obnoxiously loud laugh... it made things hurt just a little less.

“hey, kai?”

he turned his head slightly but kept his eyes glued to the screen, “yeah, what’s up?”

“i think i’m going to turn in, i’m getting sleepy,” you mumbled quietly.

your cracked, dull voice didn’t slip past him. he was concerned of course, but you were hesitant to let him in, to let down your barriers. he sighed to himself before giving you his full attention along with a soft smile, “okay. goodnight y/n, sweet dreams.”

“sweet dreams,” you repeated.

“actually wait, y/n. uh, i just wanted to tell you that i know i’m not him... but i’m always here to talk if you want,” he stated shyly. you felt guilty. you wanted to let him in, really, but everything hurt all the time and you just didn’t have the energy. he didn’t know how much you wanted to talk to him, to cry on his shoulder, to eat copious amounts of ice cream with him, but you were hesitant. hesitant and very much in pain, both mentally and physically.

you simply nodded your head in acknowledgment and gave a soft smile before making your way to your bedroom. you climbed into your bed and wrapped a plush quilt around your feverishly warm body which contrasted the cold, empty bed. you clutched onto a plushie and tried to drive away the negative thoughts, but to no avail, they plagued your mind once again.

just forget about him, he’s never coming back.

you laid there, fiddling with the sheets beneath you, hesitant to fall asleep. lately, you absolutely despised sleeping. your unconscious mind enjoyed playing cruel tricks on you, constantly making you dream of taehyun. the dreams mocked you, reminded you that he would never come home. you hated the moments right after waking up. for a few minutes, you were able to lay in bed, believing everything was alright, that there was no heartbreak or loss. you missed being held by him, having his warmth beside you as he played with your hair and hummed a sweet melody. it never failed to lull you to sleep— his touch was always soothing.

you both came such a long way.

going against every bone in your body, you squeezed your eyes shut and let yourself indulge in the memory of the first time he ever held you close.

taehyun sat on your bedroom floor, irritated and resentful, as you turned on high school musical for the fourth time in the span of thirty-six hours. he narrowed his eyes and flashed you an exhausted, disgusted gaze but you failed to notice, your head easily hidden in the mountain of plushies, tear-stained tissues, and blankets on your bed. you had an annoying habit of mumbling along to the movie and singing— more like yelling— along to the musical numbers. you had the vocal abilities of a brick and he promised himself that if he had to listen to your off-key, horrid singing one more time, he would tear his beloved wings out. he settled himself on the edge of your bed, picking away at the stuffed animals and blankets surrounding you.

“y/n... talk to me. please,” he begged. he was hoping to distract you from the movie and forcing you to speak was the only way he truly knew how.

you paused the movie and snapped, “leave me alone.”

“see, here’s the thing. i can’t exactly ‘leave you alone’ since it’s quite literally my job to constantly be by your side,” he reminded you smugly. you peaked your head out from under the blankets and threw him a lethal glare. he threw his hands up and surrendered, “fine. have it your way. can you at least move over so i can watch too?”

you sighed before unwrapping yourself from your makeshift blanket burrito and scooting to the side. you sat shoulder to shoulder as an awkward silence fell over the room. he inhaled sharply and glanced at your expectantly but not before mentally preparing himself for your random musical outbursts.

“well, what are you waiting for? ...press play.”

if there was anything worse than your singing, it was your crying and boy, were you doing a lot of crying... you were always a sucker for romantic movies. you clutched your hands to your chest, happy tears spilling over as the ending credits rolled. though, you were quickly brought out of your post-movie haze as you felt light taps on your head. you slowly turned to the side to see taehyun awkwardly patting you, his amusing but unhelpful way of comforting you.

yeah... this doesn’t seem right, he thought to himself.

he retracted his hand only to hesitantly circle his arm around your shoulder and pull you into him. you immediately tensed yet you didn’t pull away, the reasoning beyond you. you adored how he smelled like sweet cinnamon and gingerbread; you did your best to ignore the way his scent made your heart flutter. he cringed to himself before squeezing you tighter— he wasn’t much for physical affection. god, the things he did for this job.

you opened your eyes and shook your head fondly at the memory, a humorless laugh escaping your lips— it was amusing how awkward and hesitant you both were. you tried conjuring more memories but your tired eyes fluttered shut and your mind went blank. in that moment, a dull ache manifested in your chest but you paid no mind, sleep washing over you quickly.

· ──────────────────── ·

the following morning, you woke not to the soft sunlight streaming through the window, but to the sharp pain in your lungs which encroached on your ability to breathe. you gripped your pillow harshly and let out a muffled sob, attempting to relieve some of the pain. unfortunately, this had become a common development, so you tried your best to ignore the pain and hide it, especially in front of kai. you didn’t want to worry his pretty head, especially when telling him wouldn’t relieve any of the pain, it would just make the both of you miserable. you slowly rolled out of bed, trudging into your bathroom to wash your face. you wanted to maintain some semblance of normalcy, it kept you grounded and your mind off of taehyun. you found the pain usually subsided the longer the day went on, so you did your best to cope.

you tried ignoring kai’s heinously loud snores as you trudged out the front door. his body was curled up on the wooden flooring of your living room, hidden underneath his iridescent wings as if it were a substitute blanket. you glanced at his bedroom, which was less than six feet away, and sighed. his ability to sleep anywhere was amusing, though a bit concerning.

lately, kai had taken a liking, though you would argue obsession, to cold brew. it was partially your fault though, your caffeine dependency had exponentially increased, consequently rubbing off on him. being the good older sister you were, plus the fact that once again, you woke up at an ungodly hour, you decided to run a few errands and pick up coffee for you both before he woke up.

you dragged your exhausted body into the nearby café, the scent of java and freshly baked goods waking you up instantly. beomgyu stood behind the counter, a sunny smile already plastered on his face as if he were waiting for you.

“ah, you’re late! i was starting to worry i wouldn’t get to see my favorite customer today,” he mused, a cheeky grin appearing on his stunning features. that handsome face and lively personality reeled in a lot of tips, you just knew it. though, he reserved his extra friendly smile for you, or at least that’s what he told you. seeing you, an old friend from high school, was always a highlight of his shift. you were one of the few reasons he enjoyed working the morning rush.

before you could comprehend his statement, he continued, “same order, right?”

you gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded, hesitant to speak as you feared your hoarse, sleep-filled voice would betray you. he flashed you a small wink and turned around. he danced behind the counter, humming to himself quietly as he made your iced coffee. he was always so full of energy, even in grade school— age didn’t change that fact. you watched as he gracefully poured sweet cream into your cup, the coffee turning light brown— just the way you liked it.

“y/n.”

you admired the way the milk cascaded down the plastic cup and blended with the coffee. it distracted you from the ache in your chest.

“y/n,” beomgyu repeated, snapping his nimble fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. you were so embarrassed.

“oh god, i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying much attention.”

“hm, i could tell,” he chuckled softly, a silvery sound you always loved hearing. he handed you the coffee and scanned the cafe before discretely sliding a sugary pastry across the counter. you tried protesting but he didn’t budge, shutting you down instantly.

“hush. lately, you’ve been out of it... ever since that boy left. trust me, i get it,” he sympathized, flashing you an understanding smile.

“thank you,” you muttered sheepishly, accepting the warm cookie.

“mhm, don’t mention it, it’s my job as a friend to make sure you’re well-fed and you’re looking a bit under the weather. i’ll see you later this week, yeah?”

you nodded softly, “of course.”

when you stepped outside, you stared at the bright sky and let the sun warm your skin, happily relishing the moment. you didn’t know much about angels, save for the fact that they exist, but you liked to think taehyun sat perched on a cloud and watched over you.

when you arrived home, the scent of burnt food was the first thing you were greeted with. dirty dishes were splayed out across your kitchen island and bits of pancake batter stuck to the walls. a nervous kai stood in front of the stove, attempting to not burn another pancake and easily failing. you set the coffee on the countertop and sighed, “kai, what are you doing?”

“hey! y/n! wow, you’re back so soon! how was the café?” he asked, hoping he could steer clear of the upcoming scolding but much like the pancakes, failing miserably. you didn’t answer his question, rather you studied the messy room, eyes instantly landing on an unused fire extinguisher. your eyebrows lifted curiously.

“... just in case,” he explained. he shrunk in on himself and shifted uncomfortably. he didn’t want to upset you, especially not when you were heartbroken. you nodded your head understandingly, chuckling to yourself as you began preparing a bowl of pancake batter.

he seemed stunned, “you... don’t seem mad at me...”

“ah, you were just trying to make us a nice breakfast! why do you think i’d be mad?”

“oh... i don’t know, i just thought you’d be upset,” he mumbled softly. in response, you smiled mischievously before dipping a finger into the batter and swiping a bit on his nose. he grinned in return, taking his own handful and splattering it on your cheek.

“oh, you’re definitely gonna pay for that,” you challenge.

he stood on his tip-toes and stuck his tongue out childishly, “you’re going to have to reach me first.”

you both giggled and played until there was more pancake on your clothes than on the stove. he might have been a couple centuries old but he had such a young and active spirit. his smile was outstandingly bright and it brought you so much joy. because of him, for the first time in a long while, your smile was genuine and you couldn’t feel any pain.

· ──────────────────── ·

you were quite wrong.

taehyun wasn’t sat atop a cloud. instead, he was curled up on soobin’s old couch with a scorching fever. he shook violently, the pain overwhelming him, but all he could focus on was the thought of you. he thought about your crinkly eyes when you laughed at one of his stupid jokes, the small bites you took from your food and the way you insisted it helped you savor the food when really you were just picky. he thought about the way you always clutched onto his shirt when he kissed you, the way you couldn’t help but sob at a sad commercial, and the way you would try to hide your blush when he flirted with you. though, the thought that occupied his mind the most was your vibrant smile. god, your smile. it was art. it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he’d seen the world; he’d been alive during the renaissance but he thought your smile outdid any piece. he would’ve done anything to see it again. the thought of you broke his heart, shattered him into little pieces, but he couldn’t stop.

he groaned in agony, grasping at the seams of the nearest pillow. soobin watched the younger from the opposite side of the room, a worried expression painted across his face, “jesus tae, what the hell is wrong with you?”

taehyun ignored the question, the dull ache in his head muffled the older’s voice anyways.

“you’ve been like this for months, this is not a normal breakup,” soobin continued. it was true, ever since he left you, his health had been deteriorating to the point where soobin knew this wasn’t just heartbreak, it was something beyond that. taehyun wondered how you were faring, he hoped you were doing better than him. he was clueless, the only thing soobin told him was that you were a little under the weather— understatement of the decade.

“bub, something is seriously wrong. angels shouldn’t get this sick. you need help. i’m sure someone will know what to do,” soobin assured hopefully. the older shook his head helplessly, his mind trying to run through all the potential reasonings for the sickness. he hated seeing taehyun this way.

taehyun might not have known much, but he knew what would at least quell the pain. though selfish, something an angel should never be, he knew he had to see you.

· ──────────────────── ·

your condition went to shit almost overnight.

kai had tried everything: tea, warm baths, herbs, all sorts of therapeutic techniques, and every single medication on the planet. none of it helped in the slightest. the pain which had started in your chest had spread downward, running from your ribs to your lower extremities. your sickness was working it’s way out, slowly overtaking your body, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. even the doctors couldn’t find a solution. while kai spent most of his time frantically scrounging for new healing techniques and medication, he was often found right beside you, attached at the hip— something you hadn’t experienced since taehyun. kai always held your hair back when you puked, wrapped you in blankets when you shivered, and prepared soup for you when your throat was sore— albeit the food was near inedible. he was the perfect guardian angel. he loved you so much, he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you.

kai was out, once again, fetching a random medication that he didn’t even think would work, but he told himself it was better than nothing. it pained him to leave you alone, but he knew he had to try. you, on the other hand, made a beeline for the wine bottle you kept hidden in the back of your pantry, the second kai shut the front door. you liked to think you were handling your heartbreak well, or at least masked it flawlessly. looking back on your breakup with yeonjun, you scolded yourself for handling it so childishly. with taehyun, though not necessarily a normal breakup per se, it was far more unbearable yet you handled it... maturely. or at least that’s what you told yourself. you plastered on a false facade of normalcy, keeping everything bottled up, ignoring the little voice in your head that told you this was an unhealthy way to cope. but looking at the bright side, at least you were functioning and there wasn’t a disgusting pile of used tissues growing beside your bed.

this particular night was the only time, for just a few freeing minutes, you didn’t hurt. the pain subsided and was pushed to the back of your mind— all thanks to the light buzz of the alcohol. you stood on your small balcony, wine glass in hand, staring out into the cold darkness of the night. your mind was a bit fuzzy and despite the frigidness of the air, you felt warm.

“taehyunie... i miss you so much,” you giggled to yourself. not often you called him by that nickname but you knew he secretly loved it. you leaned carelessly against the edge of your balcony and looked to the heavens, mumbling taehyun’s name until you were shouting. a part of you hoped that repeatedly calling his name into the darkness of the night would bring him back to you— much like the bloody mary tactic.

you closed your eyes and tried again, “taehyun!”

your mind was too fuzzy to acknowledge the glow burning beside you. before you could comprehend the situation, a hand was roughly tugging you away from the balcony. you were instantly pressed against the glass door behind you, the wine bottle getting ripped from your hands easily. your vision was blurry but the second his figure came back into view, your vision became clear as day. taehyun stood in front of you, as beautiful as always, but noticeably paler and thinner— even his wings lost their captivating glow.

“jesus y/n, are you trying to wake the entire apartment complex, what are you doing?”

his presence was immediately sobering.

you were at a complete loss of words, too stunned by his presence to speak. he hovered over you protectively which eased your mind and heart. he stood so close to you, practically sharing the same air. it was unbelievable. you slowly brought your hand up to his face, too scared to move any faster in fear that he might vanish into thin air. maybe this was a lovely fever dream, but the way he let out a shaky breath and wrapped his hand around your small wrist told you otherwise. he was finally with you, his home, after so many weeks apart.

you threw your arms around his neck and gasped, “i can’t believe it worked.”

he immediately wrapped his strong arms around your frame and breathed you in. he missed your warm hugs, the way you always smelled like lavender and fabric softener, and he especially missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms like he was meant to hold you. holding you was like holding a piece of his heart. he rested his chin on the crown of your head, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them once more and shaking his head, “wait, wait, what worked?”

“oh! i called your name until you appeared.”

he tucked a couple of loose strands of hair behind your ear and cooed, “silly girl, that’s not how it works.”

a light blush painted your cheeks, a bit embarrassed for thinking that was the reason he came. he chuckled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before continuing, “i was already on my way here, i just needed to make sure you were okay. but i don’t have long, soobin will notice i’m gone.”

you nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in and stinging. he brushed one hand against your cheeks, tracing over your cheekbone lightly while his other hand gripped your waist, “let me kiss you.”

his bluntness shocked you but you didn’t shy away. his eyes flitted around your face, wanting to capture every detail before he kissed you. when he finally leaned in and pressed his plush lips on yours, it felt like oxygen returning to your lungs after holding your breath for so long. the sounds of the cars driving below, people chatting amongst themselves, airplanes flying above— it was all silenced, the only thing that mattered was him. all he could feel, see, touch, breathe... it was all you. the unspoken finality settled in the space around you, telling you it would be your last kiss. you didn’t notice the tears slowly streaming down your face until you tasted salt on your lips, but that didn’t stop him, if anything it drove him to kiss you deeper.

he wanted to kiss all the tears and pain away.

he pulled away to wipe his thumbs under your eyes, catching the loose tears as they fell uncontrollably. he didn’t fare much better as his vision became blurry but he tried to hold it in as best as possible. you clutched onto his shirt and let reality sink in, both acknowledging that this would be the last time in each other’s touch. your cheeks were puffy and flushed red. he couldn’t help but smile— your raw beauty was enchanting.

“i love you. i’ll always love you,” you whispered, voice hoarse from the crying. he wiped the tears from your cheeks. you leaned into his touch wanting to savor every second.

“you are the love of my life. i might not be by your side anymore, but one day, i will be. i know it. i’ll come back to you and we’ll be together again. i promise you i’ll never lose hope,” he declared, pressing a long kiss to your forehead.

“please don’t go. please. just stay with me,” you begged, desperately grabbing his hands in a final plea.

“babygirl, i have to go, i shouldn’t be here,” he whispered softly. he hated hurting you. he absolutely hated himself for it, for having to leave you. your body racked with sobs as he pressed a final kiss to your lips, “goodbye, my love.”

and in a flash of light, he was gone.

your hands grabbed at nothing but air. you stared ahead at the lively city beneath you, a stark contrast to the dead, lonely emptiness you felt. his sweet cinnamon scent still lingered in the air around you and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relish in the last bit of him you’d ever get. unfortunately, the moment didn’t last long as a searing pain shot through your body causing you to double over in pain, the white behind your eyes quickly turning black.

· ──────────────────── ·

the harsh fluorescent lighting cast down upon you in the most unpleasant manner as you groggily woke from your deep slumber. your eyes trained on the ceiling above you which was littered with old water stains and peeled paint. your mind ran wild with frantic thoughts but was quickly silenced by a pain shooting down your left arm. the cardiac monitor beside you mirrored the panic you felt, the tempo of your heartbeat increasing with each rushed thought and you suddenly became increasingly aware of the needle stuck in your arm and the rough sheets scratching your bare legs.

“hey, y/n, shh everything is alright. you’re in the hospital,” a familiar voice explained.

you craned your neck towards the sound, wincing from the dull ache in your neck. your vision was a bit hazy but you could still see the outline of a thin boy sitting on the hospital bed beside you.

“don’t move too much, you’re pretty bruised up,” he continued.

you quickly distinguished the soothing, deep voice, “... beomgyu?”

“hi princess. shh, don’t strain your voice, you’ve been out for a couple days now. you need some water,” he stated softly and you could hear the concern laced in his voice. your vision sharped, landing on his bright yellow sweater. he stood out like a sore thumb, especially considering the drabness of the hospital.

“beom, what are you doing here?”

“ah, i’m your guardian angel of course! i have to watch over you,” he joked cheekily.

your eyes practically bulged out of your head and you were left at a loss of words, no, this can’t be real.

“... jeez y/n, i’m kidding. obviously, angels don’t exist,” he clarified, scrunching his nose concerningly. you flashed him a small smile and mustered up a nervous laugh in response. if he noticed any hesitancy from you, he didn’t mention it.

“right... anyways, i’m here because you haven’t shown up at the café in a few days and also i’m your emergency contact. remember?”

your mind flashed back to a very blurry night, where both of you made silly promises and spilled drunken confessions. you were fighting with yeonjun, yet again, and you ran to beomgyu’s apartment crying. he comforted you with alcohol, ice cream, and poorly plotted movies. you both felt alone, having only each other to rely on, so you both made a pact to always be there for each other. step one was making each other your emergency contacts, though, you didn’t quite get to step two, considering you both passed out on his living room floor.

“... huh, that was so long ago,” you mumbled.

“yeah, you’re telling me, thank god yeonjun’s ass is out of your life, i still can’t believe he cheated on you,” he grumbled angrily. you simply hummed in agreeance.

silence filled the room as both of you reminisced on old times. a part of you wished you could go back, and though you fought with yeonjun quite a bit, it was far less painful than what you experienced now. you tried to ignore the sadness, letting your eyes study the environment. the room was cramped but homey, the warm sunshine that streamed through the windows reflected off the white walls comfortingly. the hospital floor you were on was quite high up, the sky seemed closer to you than usual. you let a soft sigh escape your lips as you watched a puffy cloud float by. your thoughts ran loose again but the one thought that stood out the most was about him— the boy you had lost. muffled sounds traveled through your ears but you didn’t process them until beomgyu called your name.

“... and y/n, you’re pretty lucky, i think that boy of yours came back! you’re totally right, he’s really cute. he’s been attached to your side but i think he’s out talking to the doctor right now,” beomgyu rambled on.

his statement captured your full attention. your heart fluttered at the thought of taehyun being back by your side. you eagerly shifted your gaze towards the door, awaiting his return, completely ignoring the throbbing ache at the nape of your neck. your vision was still blurred but you were able to distinguish the tall, lanky frame of a boy trudging through the door.

“oh! perfect timing, here he is!”

“y/n!” the boy excitedly shouted. kai’s voice was unmistakable and you despised the way your heart dropped, just slightly. he’d been your rock for the past couple months. you were unfair, even now, when all kai did was diligently watch over you and love you. he hovered over your injured body, grabbing your hand to hold against his chest. you could see the obvious glint of worry in his eyes, he truly did care for you.

“you’re okay...” kai whispered softly. he sat on the edge of your bed and circled his thumbs over your hands soothingly. he turned to face beomgyu, “hey, thanks for watching over her while i was out, i appreciate it.”

beomgyu wasn’t blind. he knew this wasn’t the boy who broke your heart, the boy that would never come back. he watched your body deflate when kai stepped into the room, hope leaving your body. he flashed kai a cheery yet guilty smile, “yeah of course! y/n and i go way back, i’ll always look out for her.”

kai directed his attention back to you, noting the slight confusion and panic you held despite being around people you loved and cared for. he nodded his head understandingly, “two nights ago, i came home to find you unconscious on your balcony. your body was so cold but for some reason, your forehead was really hot. i brought your here for testing but the doctor can’t find anything wrong with you. they said your brain activity and vitals are normal, not to mention the fact that you have shown no physical symptoms. i tried to convince them to keep you here so they can monitor you but they’re sending you home.”

your body relaxed as you processed the information. your illness, whatever it was, didn’t concern you as much as it should have. it’s not that you didn’t care but the gravity of your situation hadn’t fully settled in. your physical appearance, though sickly and pale, fared much better in comparison to your internal health. your lungs were caving in on itself and your heart was becoming significantly weaker. you never got better, only worse, and kai blamed himself. he knew something was off yet he kept his distance, not wanting to upset you. he didn’t know that his efforts were a waste and nothing he did would help.

kai shuffled around the small room and let you sleep once more but you couldn’t. instead, you kept your eyes shut and listened to the easy, casual banter between the two boys, both forming an instant connection. it warmed your dying heart. you so badly wished you could be that person for kai— a reliable friend, a confidant. even though he was the guardian angel, you did your best to look out for him as he did you, you just preferred doing it from a safe distance. he treated you like family, like an older sister, but your relationship arguably should’ve been a lot closer for the time you spent together. you pushed him away and built unnecessary walls, and what was the point? your heart was heavy but it wasn’t from your illness nor was it from the heartbreak you felt— it was from the guilt of shutting out the one person that loved you unconditionally.

after a few hours of faux sleep and trying to contain your smile from the sound of the boy’s muffled laughter, you were discharged and brought home. kai insisted on carrying you from the car, up the stairs, and into your warm bed, refusing to leave your side for even a split second. if you moved, he would follow you around the apartment like a lost puppy. it was heartwarming, the amount of compassion a single soul could carry. yes, kai was an angel, but his ability to love and empathize was beyond any supernatural explanation— it was just the way he was built.

he sat beside you and wrapped you tightly in a blanket, “are you feeling any better? do you want anything? i can go make us some snacks if you want.”

you softly smiled and shook your head, “no, it’s alright. i think i just want to rest. maybe i’ll get some homework out of the way or i’ll just go back to sleep.”

the thought was quickly retracted when something lodged in your throat, coughing only worsening the feeling. kai rushed to grab a towel and watched helplessly as you hacked into the soft fabric, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. when you pulled away, both pairs of eyes directed to the blood splattered across the towel, though before either one of you could react, a white-hot pain overwhelmed your body. your heaved breathes struggled to escape your lips but your agonized scream didn’t. you clutched onto his t-shirt before collapsing into his lap, knocking out cold.

· ──────────────────── ·

after six panic-filled calls with kai, soobin frantically paced around his house— a nice perk of being an elder angel with a lack of guardianship duties. honestly, his job description was pretty vague. he spent most of his time wandering the earth and enjoying the beauty it had to offer. he didn’t have to watch over a human, rather, he watched over younger angels, making sure they performed their jobs correctly, and on the rare occasion, having to strip wings if an angel went buck wild and succumbed to sin.

taehyun’s symptoms were less severe due to his supernatural status— the effects of illness would manifest slower. sure, there were a few times he did nothing but writhe in agony... but it wasn’t as often as you. he was more or less deteriorating from the outside, the illness working its way in. he was concerningly pale and what once was smooth, hydrated skin was now dry. the rosy, soft lips he used to kiss you with were now severely chapped but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. it was rare that taehyun slept, even with you. he preferred to watch over you, stroking your hair and pressing kisses along your shoulders while you dreamt, but lately, he’d been so drained of energy and all he could do was sleep.

soobin watched the younger curl up and shiver despite being under three wool blankets. something about this specific situation seemed oddly familiar to soobin— the way both you and taehyun were deteriorating at an alarming rate. the sickness worked oppositely amongst the two of you, his illness painfully manifesting exteriorly and working its way in versus your illness which began internally. similarly, your pain stemmed from the torso and worked its way to your extremities while his began in his limbs and worked its way up to his chest. it was the same disease but it worked inversely, and soobin, for the love of god, could not pinpoint why he felt like he’d seen this before.

soobin hesitantly made his way onto his back patio, wanting the younger to sleep in peace. the chill air was refreshing especially with taehyun’s rising body temperature warming the living room, making it insufferable. he plopped onto his old, rickety rocking chair and closed his eyes, drowning out everything but the bird’s chirping. the wind lightly brushed against his skin comfortingly and he welcomed the gentle touch. it was calming, the way the leaves rustled amongst the golden sky— he wished the world was always this peaceful and serene. a small brush against his ankles revived him from his near-sleep state. when he peered down, there was nothing but the wooden boards under his feet but he swore he felt a distinct touch. a lightbulb flickered in his mind.

“oh shit.”

as if the world was falling apart, he scrambled back into his house, realizing the familiarity of the situation.

“taehyun, taehyun, you need to wake up,” he shook aggressively. taehyun didn’t budge, instead, he let out a small, annoyed grunt of acknowledgment. soobin continued, “taehyun, you need to get up. i know why you’re sick.”

the declaration seemed to wake the younger but he didn’t display much enthusiasm due to his unabated exhaustion. he cautiously opened one eye and grumbled as if that sufficed as a good response.

soobin scratched the back of his neck and continued nervously, “um, well, you see... you’re... soulmates.”

taehyun slowly sat up and leaned against his elbows, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. he shook his head, he’s kidding, right?

“no, i’m being completely serious,” soobin deadpanned as if he could read the younger’s thoughts.

“fine, humor me.”

“god, it was such a long time ago, but when i was young, i went to a beach. wait. no, it was the woods. yeah, the woods because there was a willow tree. anyways, it was windy and—”

taehyun quickly cut him off, “bin, you’re rambling and not making any sense.”

soobin inhaled deeply, regaining his thoughts before starting again, “okay, when i was younger, i came across an old, prophetic-like scripture. it told a story of soulmates that were separated from each other and because they weren’t together, their physical and mental state deteriorated. uh, there was also something off about the ending... it was pretty wack. it kind of warned me about another set of soulmates... i don’t really know how to explain it, but i think you and her are the next set.”

taehyun audibly scoffed. a bewildered expression covered his face as he eyed the older as if he weren’t in his right mind.

“hyung... soulmates... hate to break it to you, but they... don’t exist,” taehyun tried explaining slowly, hoping his pace would make soobin understand.

“aiya, stop talking to me like i’m a child. i didn’t believe it either but it makes sense. you both have this weird, mysterious illness that’s only getting worse but the only time you felt a bit better was when you saw her a few weeks ago. and yeah, before you say anything, i know about that. you’re the worst at lying.”

taehyun deflated into the couch but not before a harsh coughing fit. his lungs felt so restricted and the air felt thinner.

“hyung, i think i’m dying,” he stated weakly.

“no shit.”

the entirety of this situation crushed soobin. one of his oldest friends, the young boy that loved him like a brother, was dying. it was so painful to watch but he didn’t feel helpless anymore, he knew exactly what to do.

“get up. let’s go see y/n.”

taehyun perked up, just slightly, his energy too drained he could barely move. the older dragged him off the couch and wrapped a wing around the sick boy, trying to keep his shivering, weak body warm.

· ──────────────────── ·

much like soobin, kai was frantically pacing back and forth when the oldest dragged taehyun’s limp body through your front door. sunshine streamed through your windows, brightening the room yet everything felt dull as if all the life and energy in the room were slowly seeping out of the apartment.

“um, she’s in her room,” kai mumbled worriedly.

just from that small interaction, taehyun could see how scared the youngest was, how much he loved and cared for you. he felt grateful and indebted to kai; he was so glad that you had someone like kai watching over you, especially if he was unable to. with little energy, taehyun trudged to your room, the other two boys following closely behind. he opened the door slowly, heart absolutely shattering when his eyes landed on your pale and gaunt frame. he could’ve sworn he could see droplets of dried blood at the corners of your mouth. though as ill as you seemed, he couldn’t help the swell of love and energy that surged through his chest now that he was breathing the same air as you. he practically ran to your bed and enveloped your smaller frame in his. he wrapped his arms around your waist and breathed in the lovely lavender scent he’d grown so fond of.

the other boys coughed lightly, feeling a bit like they had stumbled in on a personal moment. taehyun paid no mind to them though, especially not when you looked so beautiful sleeping. he lightly nudged your arm to wake you but when you didn’t move, he peered down at you concerningly.

“hyung, she hasn’t woken up in the past five hours and i’ve tried everything. the only thing i know is that she’s breathing,” kai clarified.

he was right. you were still breathing but it was so faint and shallow, he shed a tear. you were so lifeless and his heart skipped a beat when you took a bit longer than usual to inhale.

“she’s dying,” taehyun whispered to no one in particular. he pulled you against his chest tightly in a weak attempt to warm your frigid body. he stroked your hair and weakly hummed a sweet song, something he always did when you slept.

“bin, why isn’t she waking up? i’m right next to her, i’m holding her in my arms like i always do... she should be awake,” he sobbed. he felt like he was on the brink of insanity, having you so close yet so far. once again, soobin stood helplessly and picked at his fingers nervously. he really had no idea what to do. he thought that being with you would fix everything but it didn’t.

kai spoked up first after a few moments of painful silence, “hyung, i think you need to lose your wings.”

soobin and taehyun glanced at each other before throwing kai a confused look, both intelligently questioning, “... huh?”

“think about it, it makes sense. you might physically be next to her but you can’t truly be with her while you have your wings. with them, you’ll always have something standing between the two of you,” kai explained diligently. soobin stood dumbfounded, the cogs in his mind turning exceptionally slow.

“i think... he’s right. aw, when did you get so smart, huh?” soobin cheekily asked, ruffling the youngest boy’s hair. kai brushed his hand away playfully, blushing softly at the newfound attention.

taehyun felt your body temperature drop and he wrapped you firmly in a quilt. “take them. i don’t want them anyways, not if it means a life without her,” he whispered.

“tae, it’s not that easy, your wings can’t just be taken away in a snap, there’s a process for this. it’s all very... bureaucratic. an elder angel has to approve,” soobin explained softly, not wanting to upset the younger.

“well, it’s a good thing you’re practically ancient, heck, you were alive to have a crush on cleopatra,” kai joked, trying his best to lighten up the somber mood.

“wait, kai has a point. you’re like, a thousand years old, and you’ve been an elder angel for a couple of centuries now. this isn’t some random case of an angel gone wild, the both of us will actually die. please soobin,” taehyun begged shamelessly. the desperate plea broke soobin’s heart.

“you’ll be mortal again, an average human... you’ll die one day,” soobin reminded while slowly inching towards the bed. taehyun glanced down at your sleeping figure, tracing his large hand over your arm. he understood the cost but he didn’t care. he’d been ready to give up his wings long before he met you, but now he had a reason. he brushed the wisps of your hair away from your forehead before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss.

he looked at the two boys. taehyun thought they looked scared, maybe hurt, or maybe both. he flashed them an apologetic smile but truth be told, he didn’t feel sorry, especially not when it came to being with you. he took a deep breath and sighed, preparing himself for what was about to come.

“do it.”

to be frank, it hurt a lot more than it should’ve, but that was to be expected from an inexperienced elder angel. taehyun felt every single agonizing second of his wings disintegrating to nothing but dust, the only thing grounding him was the thought of you. he clutched onto your body as if you would ease his pain, but in some ways, you did. he entwined his hands with yours and buried his face in the crook of your neck as the pain grew increasingly worse. though still unconscious, your breaths grew rapid, matching his, like you were experiencing the same aching pain as him. when his wings were fully gone, soobin and kai shared the same pained expression— they had lost their brother, but the idea of taehyun’s happiness did much to quell their hurt. taehyun smiled to himself, feeling free after so long, and entangled his legs with yours. he pressed his lips to the back of your head softly before a familiar darkness washed over him, gently lulling him to sleep.

“he’ll be okay... right,” kai asked, his worried expression growing more concerned with each fleeting second.

“yeah bub, he’ll be fine. both of them will be. they have each other,” soobin gently confirmed. he circled an arm around kai’s shoulder and ruffled his hair affectionately.

“you did good, kai.”

· ──────────────────── ·

you woke up first with a dull ache between your shoulder blades and a warm body pressed against your back. you remained oblivious to his presence, your mind trying to reel in the events that occurred before you fell unconscious. the pain in your chest was practically gone and you felt lighter as if a weight had been lifted off of you.

it wasn’t until he slightly stirred behind you that you realized his presence, the familiar scent of cinnamon and nutmeg suddenly overwhelming your senses. you were scared to turn around, you almost believed it was another realistic fever dream but your instincts told you otherwise. when you looked at him, he was still asleep, his beautiful features softened by the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. you nearly shed a tear as you delicately traced a finger down his sharp jawline, fearing he would dissipate into thin air at even the slightest bit of pressure. he seemed livelier. his skin was clear and glowing, the apples of his cheeks were painted pink, and his overall appearance seemed healthier.

his eyes fluttered open, your gentle touches peacefully waking him up. immediately, a deep sigh of relief escaped from his lips. you weren’t just some beautiful dream; he was finally next to you, his home. you didn’t say a word but judging from your trembling lips, you couldn’t even if you wanted. your mind ran rampant but all you could think about was how you were back in his arms. you didn’t notice the tears falling until you felt the pillow beneath you dampen. he pulled you into his chest and threaded his hands through your hair, pressing gentle kisses along your forehead. your walls broke and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed with the grief of losing him but also with the joy of being back in his arms.

“it’s been so hard, tae. it’s been so hard without you.”

he closed his eyes and sighed, “oh baby, i know. but i’m here now and i’m never going to leave you again. i promise.”

you ran your hand along his back, stopping when you hit the area where the base of his wings usually started. even when he hid his wings, there were still two visible slits that sat between his shoulder blades, but you could neither see nor feel them anymore. you tensed and swallowed harshly, “um, where are they... where are your wings?”

you already knew the answer but his answer still shocked you.

“they’re gone... i’m not an angel anymore, but please don’t worry, i promise you i’ve wanted to be human for so long. it’s just, because of you, i finally had a good reason to give them up.” he meant every word he said. for the first time in his life, he felt free and unhindered. as an angel, he was able to see the world, meet new people and he loved it but he’d been alive for so long and as much as he truly loved caring for others, he felt lost, almost hopeless. at least until he met you.

you were confused and left with a lot of questions but you didn’t quite know what to say. he wanted to answer all of your questions but he’d gone so long without your lips on his so he leaned down to press a gentle kiss. you let a soft sigh escape, the feeling of his touch after so long was both relieving and comforting. he soothingly ran his hand along your waist, the other threading through your hair. there were so many things left unspoken but the kiss was able to say it all. when he pulled away, you were left breathless and dazed. he kept his face hovered over yours and his eyes shut, wanting to savor the moment.

“i love you,” you whispered.

he missed hearing you say those sweet words. his hand gripped your waist and he shyly smiled, “i love you too.”

honestly, you’d miss his wings, though the more you thought about it, they symbolized his immortality and his inability to truly be yours.

“so... i guess this makes you a fallen angel,” you hummed.

“i guess so since i’ve fallen for you,” he mused cheekily. you lightly pushed his shoulder, his corniness making you cringe, but you couldn’t help the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks. he chuckled softly, entwining your hands once more and pressing a light kiss to your temple. you smiled at him, realizing you were granted a second chance— a bright, wonderful future where you could grow old with him.

“i’m home,” he whispered against your skin. you let out a content sigh as you curled into his chest and closed your eyes, listening to his steady, human heartbeat.

what a beautiful way to begin the rest of your lives together.

#taehyun x reader #taehyun scenarios #taehyun imagines #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt fanfic #txt scenarios #kang taehyun #taehyun #tomorrow x together

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