#when i say that i mean i stole the shapes or the rough lines and worked from there. (like. the mouth on the second piece) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Unleashed.

Doctor!Bucky x Reader AU

Requested (like a year ago)

Run-through: Your doctor just can’t seem to get enough of you, nor you him. And one night, all the passion and tension can no longer be contained…

Themes: smut, dirty talk, fluff, doctor!bucky

James Barnes was the kind of doctor who made you all weak in your knees, turned you into a stuttering mess the moment you first stepped into his examination room.

Your mom, after she made your appointment, forgot to mention that the gynecologist who would be seeing you was a tall, broad, blue-eyed, absolutely fine, gorgeous and dreamy man. Long, dark brown hair tied in a low, slightly messy bun. Perfect facial hair, and a strong built. Even with his lab coat on, you could tell he was absolutely ripped and muscular underneath it.

The first time you entered his office, he flashed you a smile which stole your heart right there. And the minute he ushered you over to his examination chair, you almost wished the ground would somehow spilt and swallow you whole because you realized that this fine specimen was going to see all of you. And you’d have to keep a straight face on and behave.

But by the next few visits for you regular check-ups, you had grown comfortable around the man. And each time, you tried your hardest to ignore the tingly feeling you got whenever you felt his hands on your thighs, or whenever he looked you in the eye while talking, or how he always placed a hand on the small of your back as he ushered you out of his office.

Each time you sat on his examination chair, legs spread apart; exposed. You immediately felt the burning hot, buzzing tension between you two. And you tried hard to convince yourself that it wasn’t real, that it was all in your head but you couldn’t.

It got to a point where you found yourself thinking of him when you touched yourself at night. James Barnes was always there, in your head. Living in your thoughts like it was nothing.

You were shamelessly crushing on the handsome doctor, needless to say. He was playful. And you began noticing the subtle ways he would flirt with you each time. But he never crossed the line.

But then one day your paths crossed somewhere you least expected… at a club. And that night, everything changed.

“Hello Y/N.” he greeted, with a semi smirk. Leaning by the bar, dressed in a dark shirt and dark pants and his hair down; he looked irresistible.

“Hello doc.” You tried to hide the fact that your face was burning hot at the sight of him so… relaxed and beautiful. No lab coats, his hair not held back by a hair tie – right now he was just a devilishly handsome man at a club who was receiving all the attention by most ladies. A devilishly handsome man who also knew what your vagina looked like. Speaking of which, you had an appointment with him tomorrow… well shit.

Bucky inched closer to you, “You seem a little flustered.” He whispered in your ear. And you shivered at the sound of his voice. Fuck…

You giggled nervously. “Just, not used to seeing you like this.” He cocked his head to the side at your reply.

“Like how?”

So fucking fuckable. Your face felt all hot again, and you looked down at your shoes instead. “You know, I should go. You’re probably here with someone and I-,”

He cut you off, flashing you another smile which made your heart race. “No please, stay.” And that was all it took for you to stay by his side for the next hour or so, talking but mostly flirting, before he leaned in again and whispered in your ear, confidently. “Let’s get out of here. Somewhere a little more private?”

You nodded quickly, ditching your glass of red wine, took his hand and followed him out of the club.

You ended up at his luxurious apartment. None of its lushness and flamboyance, of course, even came close to that of its owner. James Barnes was one of a kind; gentlemanly, but also the right amount of flirty.

“Can I get you something?” Bucky asked as he rolled his sleeve up till his elbow, mindlessly.

Fuck…

You eyed him up and down and you could no longer hold back anymore. “Doc…” the sudden desperation in your voice made him look up at once. And he smirked once he caught your gaze.

“Yes?”

“Please just… fuck me.” You spoke, boldly.

He chuckled, and slowly approached the coffee table, by which you stood. Bucky reached out and gently touched your face, his thumb softly tracing the shape of your mouth, smudging your lipstick just a little. He smirked again upon seeing your messed up lipstick. He definitely planned on messing all of you up later, oh he wanted to do bad things to you since the day he first saw you…

And all those times you just laid there in front him. Exposed. Open. Although deeply unethical, he wanted nothing more than to just touch you. Pleasure you. Taste you and be inside of you. He noticed how you always got all flustered under his stare, many women did to be honest. But he had never wanted any of them like he wanted you. He still remembers the first time he saw you on his examination chair, and his brazen thought at the time… such a pretty little cunt… the prettiest he had ever seen.

He often thought of you when you were long gone. How well you listened to each and every instruction of his. How obedient you seemed. How fucking perfect.

Yet each time, he felt like he was chained. Held back. Unable to reach out to you because the relationship between the two of you was supposed to be strictly professional, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But here you were now, right in front of him. Asking him to fuck you. He wanted you bad as well, but just like he waited, he wanted to be a tease and keep you waiting as well.

“Patience, sweetheart.” he spoke, looking down at your lips before looking into your eyes again and you almost moaned at the look he was giving you. Your body was burning hot under his stare.

And the fire in you didn’t simmer down at all, definitely not when Bucky pulled you onto his lap and kissed you senselessly, deeply, passionately for God knows how long, but you could feel your underwear getting completely soaked.

His hands grabbed you at your butt, firmly and occasionally rolling your hips against his crotch. You could feel him; big and hard.

You whined when his mouth left yours only to kiss down your neck, nibbling on your skin and leaving dark red marks behind. You moved your hips against him, grinding on him out of desperation, and he chuckled against your skin. “So eager, aren’t you doll?” he whispered and peppered your neck with soft kisses.

“You’re so mean…” you whimpered and slid your fingers through his hair and tugging on it.

He pulled away to look at you. “Am I now?” he faced you with lust and playfulness in his eyes. “What about all those times you tortured me at work?” he gently grabbed your chin and pulled your face closer. “Showing up all dolled up…,” he kissed the side of your mouth and you felt your heart flutter, “Acting so innocent and shy when spreading those sexy legs for me…,”

Your giggle cut him off. And he pulled away again to look at you with raised eyebrows, smirking a little. You immediately felt all hot and bothered by his stare. “Sorry,” you apologized and looked down at how comfortably you sat on his lap. “I thought you looked at vaginas all day. How did I stand out from the crowd?” the brat in you spoke.

Bucky tried to hold it in, but he ended up laughing anyway, his body shaking and his laughter filling the room. You lowered your head again. He calmed down a few seconds later, and he cupping your face softly. “You caught my eye the minute you walked into my life, angel.” He answered. “But since then, each time I saw you was pure torture. You were always so… unreachable.”

You leaned into his touch. “Well I’m here now.” you leaned closer, gently caressing the back of his neck. “You can whatever you want.” You felt his body tense under you, and you smirked.

“Careful what you wish for, doll.” he warned, teasing you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. “James, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m leaving and I-,”

He cut you off with a rough kiss, biting your lip before shoving his tongue past your lips and kissing you like he’s famished and you’re the only thing which can satiate his hunger – which was true.

“You’re not fucking leaving!” He growled against your lips, his voice fueling the fire inside you. “Not when I finally have you all to myself.”

Next thing you knew, Bucky was pushing down onto his large, comfy bed. The cool satin sheets felt wonderful under your burning hot body. He was on top of you in less than a second, kissing you like his life depended on it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You moaned and whimpered, body squirming under his. You needed him, bad.

Bucky’s mouth left your lips as he kissed his way down your body, undressing you in the process. Your little black dress, and your underwear found themselves on his bedroom floor as he settled himself in between your legs. His handsome face just inches away from your dripping core.

You had seen Bucky in between your legs before, but not like this. Back in his examination room, he always looked so calm and composed, and gentle. Right now, he was hungry, and wild – a man who wanted to do bad things to you, and you were more than happy to let him do whatever he wanted.

You felt his warm breath against your body as he spoke, lips brushing against your inner thigh, “Look at this pretty little cunt,” he kissed your skin so softly and it made your whole body tingle, “So fucking wet, and all mine.” he growled before he leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than earlier. A pressing need to release formed deep inside you as you felt his tongue stroked your most sensitive parts. “So fucking sweet too…” Bucky chuckled as he looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure. “Look at me.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble.

You opened your eyes and supported your upper body up with your elbows digging into the mattress and you took in the sight of him in between your legs. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your in place and close to him.

He maintained eye contact as he licked in between your wet folds again, making you whine as he teased you. His touch was deliberately slow, pleasurably agonizing. “Please…” you cried out, whimpering and begging him to take you already. You could no longer deal with his teasing.

Bucky smirked. “I’ve fantasized about this moment for a while now, doll.” he kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding to touch where he knew you needed him the most. “I’m not gonna rush, I’m gonna savor you…” he kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin. You hissed in pleasure. “I’m gonna eat this wet, greedy cunt until your taste is embedded in my brain. And you will not once complain, you hear me?”

You nodded frantically, his words turning you on more than you expected them to. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you, one drop at a time. But Bucky didn’t let none of it go to waste, he leaned in and latched his mouth onto your core, sucking and licking and teasing you. Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

His sole purpose was to take his time, and taste you and make you come undone all over his tongue. You whined and whimpered under him; with your legs wrapped around his head.

“You taste better than I expected, baby…” he mumbled, closing his eyes, shamelessly humming and moaning at how you tasted on his tongue. Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. “So fucking sweet.” he purred.

Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. His beard rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. But he was making you wait…

His stormy blue eyes watched how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you; making you cry out loud.

Bucky made you cum once. Twice. Then it got so frequent that your orgasms just overlapped effortlessly; making you gasp for air as your body writhed under him.

You whined wantonly, “Please…” you begged, and tried scooting away from him. But his grip around your thigh tightened and he kept you in place. “I already came, please…” part of you didn’t want him to stop. Ever. But you were so damn sensitive that even just his hot breath fanning your wet folds was making you moan out loud.

He had been eating you out for so long, you wondered how the hell his neck wasn’t sore and aching yet.

He glared at you from in between your legs. “I said no complaining.” He spoke sternly, smacked your thigh gently and kissed his way up to your mouth again. He kissed your lips once he hovered over you, rough and deep, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. “I’m not done with your sweet cunt yet, so keep quiet for me doll.” he whispered against your swollen lips. “I make the rules here, remember?”

You looked up at him and nodded, panting and shaking under his gaze.

Bucky kissed his way down your body again. And his mouth latched onto your core again. You whined and squirmed, tugging in his hair and that only made him want to eat you out for longer.

You lost track of time, but many orgasms later, Bucky kissed his way up your body again. He gave you a brief kiss on the lips then lifted off you for just a moment to get rid of his clothes. Once done, he was hovering over your naked body again. Frankly, he loved the sight of you; naked, hot and squirming against the dark sheets of his bed. He wanted to keep you there forever.

He gave you loud kisses on the cheek, making you giggle and wrap your arms around him. He pulled away after a while to look into your eyes. Then leaned in to kiss you on the nose. “Just so we’re clear, who makes the rules here, babygirl?” he asked.

Something in you pushed you to be a bit of a brat just to get a reaction out of him. You were curious to see what would happen if you pushed his buttons. “I don’t know, was it me?” you teased.

He smirked, reading your face. Part of him loved this side of you, the other part of him wanted to tame the brat in you right this instant. Bucky leaned in closer to you, his hand reaching up to hold your jaw carefully, firmly. He lifted his hand just an inch or two from your face gave you a gentle smack on your cheek. You groaned, bit your lip and smiled up at him, clearly he had taken over all of you. You’d take anything he’d give you.

“Don’t be a brat, doll. Who makes the rules here?”

You looked up at him in, completely under his spell. “You do.” He smiled and kissed you right in between your brows.

“Good girl.”

Bucky’s body settled in between your legs comfortably again, and he leaned in to kiss you. Your lips were all swollen and tingly, but still you smiled through the kiss as he pulled you even closer. The need for one another was prominent between you two, quite literally – his thick and hard cock rested against your thighs.

Bucky touched you wherever he could; letting his hands linger at your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and kissing your skin. His hands slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. You moaned into the kiss; his touch was slow, and gentle and enticing but also fiery.

His knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around. He stared into your eyes, his face still dangerously close to yours. “You okay, doll?” he asked. His voice strained and deep, gravelly with lust.

You craved more. So you nodded a little too quickly. He smiled and leaned in again, kissing you and toying with your clit at the same time. You whimpered and squirmed under him, and he smirked through the kiss. He had wanted you since the day he first saw you. Since that day, he wanted nothing more than to just have you under him. To toy and play with your body as he pleased. And now that you were here, and he wasn’t planning on letting you go just yet.

Bucky pulled away from your lips, and pressed his forehead onto yours gently, while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance, pulling your legs up to wrap them around his waist. You moaned out loud as he pushed into you. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust. He grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down on the bed, above your head.

He had always wondered how he would feel inside you. How wet you’d be, how warm and how tight and snug you’d feel… but he concluded that you felt better than he ever imagined.

You were so full of his thick cock that even you couldn’t even form a proper thought. His lips found yours again, trying to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours. He pulled out and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to keep quiet. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear.

“You feel so good, babygirl…” he whispered, groaning by the end and let go of your hands to hold your body. He gripped your waist and pushed deeper into you. You heard him gasp and swear under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his damp skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you.

You moaned out loud; wantonly, as he pushed deeper and deeper into you each time. You tried matching his thrusts but were unable to; so you simply let him take control. His scent, his moans; Bucky took over you in less than a minute.

He kissed you, bit your lips, kissed your open mouth, and shoved his tongue past your lips while he rammed into you; and you never once complained. Given his size, he stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain. Your legs trembled around his waist, he thrust deeper into you, and in the daze he was in, he mumbled right in your ear about how good you felt.

“Fuck…” his voice cracked and his sentenced ended with a loud moan. The sound of his moans and grunts sent tingles dancing down your spine. Your back arched off the bed as you felt a familiar warmth washing over you. Bucky growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any loud noises while he fucked you. He was relentless. And you loved it.

Right when your moans got louder and your walls started clenching around him; signaling you were right on the edge and just about to come undone; he removed himself from you and flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips. His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you.

You whimpered; wanting him to completely ruin you. He kissed the back of your neck, “You’re so good to me, doll,” he mumbled against your skin and pushed your face down against the pillows, making your ass stick out for him. “But I’m not quite done with you yet.”

He gripped each side of your hips, tightly. He pushed his cock into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your butt cheeks pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you.

You moaned out loud at the new sensation of him rocking into you from behind. Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen. He liked the rush of excitement which coursed through him each time he felt his cock deep within you.

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind. You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly.

No man had ever made you feel the way he did. So wanted. So desired. So full and so wild. “Fuck…” you heard a barely audible moan leave his lips as he rammed his cock in and out of you incessantly.

“So good to me, so fucking good…” Bucky mumbled in a daze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words while he fucked you like there’s no tomorrow.

You felt him quicken his pace. You tightened around him, and he groaned, pounding into you; growling and mumbling swear words under his breath. You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore, so you came undone with a loud moan.

His other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble and whimper again. You moaned, craving more and more of him.

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling the burning hot need to cum grow hotter and hotter inside you until it exploded. You came with a loud moan, gushing all around him. Bucky came right after you; buried deep within you – growling and mumbling swear words under his breath. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance. You were a whimpering, panting mess. And so was he.

He threw himself next to you in his bed. You were shaking just a little as he tucked your head under his chin and ran his soothing hand down your back; while kissing the side of your head. “Get some sleep, babygirl.” He whispered and just held you in his arms, while you came down from your high.

You were hazy and worn-out already, so all you remember is snuggling up to him and falling asleep with your head on his chest. The last thought in your head was about how warm his body was, and how perfect it felt sleeping next to him.

You woke up hours later, soft sunlight against your skin, feeling warm puffs of air fanning your neck. You opened your eyes and blinked a couple of times, trying to reorient yourself as best you could. You realized that you were naked, and tucked under the comfiest blankets you had ever felt, and pressed up against a warm body which spooned you from behind.

Bucky… you smiled at the thought of him. You lifted the covers and looked down to see your legs tangled with his, his arms circling your waist and holding you close to him. You smiled a little bigger, then tried to lift his arm so you could get out of his grip, even though you didn’t want to leave his bed right away.

The moment you lifted his arm inches off your skin, you heard him groan loudly right in your ear. “Don’t go. You’re so warm.” He mumbled before nuzzling your neck again. You giggled when you felt his soft lips against your skin. You turned around in his arms and faced him with a soft smile.

Bucky opened one eye to look at you briefly, then shut it again, mirroring the smile you had on. “Judging by the look on your face,” he pulled you further into him, chest pressing against his, “I’d say I did really well last night, huh?”

You giggled and admired his handsome face. “I’m sore. And I can almost still feel you, deep inside me.” You whispered and he immediately opened both his eyes and looked down at you. He looked adorable and smoking hot at the same time.

“Yeah? Keep looking at me like that and you sure won’t be able to walk all day today.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then how am I gonna get to my appointment with the handsome doctor on time?” you watched how he blushed a little. “I can’t be late you know. He likes it when people are punctual.”

“Hmm,” he played along, “Well I could drive you. Or maybe you could like, not go? Ditch the doctor, stay with me.” He teased.

You shook your head, and then leaned in to kiss your way up his neck. “Can’t do that.” you kissed the side of his throat up till his ear. “He has me by my heart already, gotta go see him.” you kissed along his jaw. “Besides, I like him, and I like the way he looks at me.”

Bucky sighed in pleasure as you nibbled along his jaw, his grip around your waist tightening as he laid you on your back and hovered above you again. “How?” he asked.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, staring into his stormy blue eyes. “Like a hungry animal. Feral. Wild. Like he’d absolutely ruin me once unleashed.”

Bucky smirked, inevitably feeling cocky after what you just said. He leaned down to kiss you, his tongue invaded your mouth like he owned it, stroking the top of your mouth and making you moan and hot and bothered just from his kiss. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second. Again.

“Seems you unleashed the animal after all, babygirl.” He kissed his way down your body again, just like he did last night. Bucky settled in between your legs again, his mouth just an inch or two away from where you needed him the most. “Now don’t you move, I’m still not done with you yet.” He chuckled before separating your folds apart using his fingers, and pressed a soft kiss right on your clit. You whined, your body still sensitive and sore from hours ago.

Bucky looked up at you, and smirked. “Just can’t seem to get enough of your pretty, wet little cunt.” he whispered before latching his mouth onto your core once again…

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut #doctor!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #marvel au #bucky barnes x you #bucky smut

2K notes · View notes

lovee-infected · 3 years

Note

hello! I read your post where you clarified your opinion on the character of Malleus and to be honest I really appreciated it! I agree with what you say and I have to congratulate you for the detailed analysis!! May I ask (if of course that doesn't bother you) what do you think of Leona's character instead? I ask because I think (like malleus) that some fans have not fully understood the complex personality of this character and I would like to understand more of it too. Thank you :3

Hello dears! First off, thank you very much for your sweet compliments and glad to hear that you enjoyed my Malleus analysis!

To be honest, I think that being mischaracterized isn't the main problem with Leona, the main problem is that not many actually try to give his character a deeper and detailed look which makes us lose a bunch of interesting facts and points about him and his personality. Leona's design is quite brilliant and I guess we all need to take a moment to go through those interesting details in order to understand that he's way greater than we were expecting!

I mainly talked about some possibilities of how he's mischaracterized in part (1),(2) and (12) and in the rest of the parts, we'll be talking about more specific facts and details about his personality that are often ignored.

1) Let Leona be Leona

The simplest yet the most important part to begin with. While we all understand that he has indeed gone through a hard time throughout his life as the second prince and an often ignored child of his family, it's important to realize that this isn't going to change anything about his dark personality.

Accept it, this is just the way he is. He doesn't mind being reckless, doesn't care if he's annoying at the time, doesn't care if anyone likes what he's doing or not, and doesn't see any need to excuse himself for being so.

He's surely got a painful background to go through which him have the right for being so now, but this isn't telling us that he's still a little kitten. Leona is an adult now and considering him to be a soft boy inside who just needs attention and love is totally against the way he actually is. He isn't a child who can sometimes misbehave, he's a grown-up man. He knows what he's doing and how others may think of him because of his reckless actions. This is just how he wants to be, so let Leona be Leona. But I'm not saying that he's gotten to this point for no reason, this claim will be clarified in part (2) and (3).

2) Do not try to excuse his jerky nature

This is somewhat of a continuation of what discussed back in the first part, keep that in mind that this, is just the way Leona is. Saying that he's a cute kitten who just needs more attention and love, and that he'd be a totally different person by just having someone to support and confront him is surely an adorable headcanon, but it doesn't really suit him.

Or another way of this, saying that Leona may often come off as rude but he doesn't mean to, and he holds a kind and soft heart behind that cold and rough personality.

Look, not all characters are supposed to be kind and good inside. Some are specifically designed to present a cruel and rude personality because this is just the way they are, so trying to excuse his nature is nothing different from trying to change his official design. Leona's past life took on an important role in shaping his personality, but it isn't like he's still a 5-year-old child who'd be calmed down if you talk to him.

His current self, is a result of his past and his personal decisions at the moment; as an adult he knows how to handle his personality and behaviors, and he doesn't seem to really care about what others may think of him now. Both him and the others know that he can be much of a jerk at the time, and the point is: He doesn't mind being so.

3) Leona's childhood has seriously effected his personality and life

While his current personality isn't such a thing that can be changed if you just show him some love and attention, keep that in mind that no one is born evil.

What happens when you're supposed to playing and having fun as child but instead you're working your hardest training everyday to master your magic? And even worse, what if all those months and even years of hardworking result in nothing but your family and people's fear and hatred towards you?

He was just a child, and even if he wasn't going to be the next King he needed to be noticed and paid attention to. He needed his family to be at least proud of him and his powers, but all they did was to leave him on his own because all they saw was an angry kid yet no one ever cared to calm him down-! He might've be raised in a castle, yet there are many things he needed more than wealth and money.

As a child he needed attention and motivation, but since almost everyone around Leona failed him on it, this need of his was never fulfilled and as the result, this part of him would always remain as a child.

He still enjoys attention and being phrased like he enjoys nothing, yet it's not like that's enough to change anything about him. It might've been possible to change him in the past, but now, it's useless. He can no longer be easily effected and changed like a child can be.

4) He is telented and confident

Some may think that self-esteem is a problem of his: "Why he recognize that he's already really powerful?" "Doesn't he know that if he stops procrastinating he will achieve the success he's been always wishing for?" "Why is he always comparing himself to the others instead of recognizing his own telents?"

The answer to all these questions and similar ones is: He knows. He knows that he's talented and strong, he knows that just because someone like Malleus is standing higher than him doesn't mean that Leona is weak, and he knows that he can work way harder than he already is.

We'll talk about his procrastination in part (8) but for now, let's focus on his very own opinions about himself. None of us can exactly tell how much he can do and how talented he truly is, because while Leona is totally aware of his own abilities, he doesn't care to use or show them.

In fairy gala, for example, he turned out to be skilled with posing and walking when Vil pushed him into taking the work seriously, but in the end he just did it to get rid of Vil though he could've done it all in the first place! He did know how to pose, how to walk and how to be one hell of a super model without Vil learning him much about it, yet he didn't show the smallest sign of having the ability and knowledge in!

And when he did it, he was sure that everyone would be impressed, and they were! Though he might sometimes be cocky about it he's sure that if he decides to take something seriously, it'll end up in the highest of quality and the best of result, because Leona knows how to get the best of it.

So next time that you see him not wanting to do anything, know that it isn't anything about him lacking confidence or underestimating his own brilliance, he just doesn't care to show it. And at some point, it may even be because he thinks no one really deserves to get his best. He isn't cheap. He knows that he can do it. He just doesn't want to.

5) He was thought manners

Other than respecting ladies, there's a lot about him that shows his maturity and nobility. Leona is indeed real prince, but doesn't care to show it. With that being said, know that he can go from 0 to 100 in a matter of second, just like he did in Fairy Gala and turned into the prince who stole hundreds of hearts.

The thing is unlike Malleus, he doesn't feel the need to act like the royalty he is, most likely because of the same reason we previously discussed: He doesn't think that anyone is worthy of getting that side of him. He can act like a prince, but doesn't see a need to do so. In summary it's more of a: "Yes, I can be just perfect, but you won't deserve it anyway,"

Give Leona the motivation to reveal that hidden side, and you'll see how it'll impress you. Keep that in mind that we don't even know how stunning he can be when he is serious.

6) He is different from the rest of the NRC

One of the most important facts about him which is often ignored, come on! There're too many things that separate him from the rest of the students but are rarely paid attention to.

First off, unlike many of other students, Leona is an adult, and he's been one ever since he was a first grader. The importance of age explains a lot about one's personality, especially when it comes to a school.

While other students, especially 16 years olds like Ace and Deuce, still have a lot to go through to and are much and less open to learning a new thing from experiencing like they're just doing now, Leona is the least likely (Except Lilia) to face those character developments through his 4 years in NRC because he's already gone through them back in his 16s and 17s.

Even his overblot had the least effect on him and unlike Riddle who tried to come up with a rather softer personality and make a difference in his new self, Leona did nothing but to walk off and even during chapter 3 in which Savanaclaw helped MC to defeat Octavinelle, he didn't treat MC any kindlier than before.

His attitude is already shaped as it is, and since he's no longer a teenager it might be really hard to be changed. This is probably the biggest difference between him and the rest of the students in NRC; his personality is rough and almost impossible to be changed now.

7) He loves to be praised

Remember that we talked about that part of him remaining a child? His love for receiving compliments is a result of it.

Though he doesn't need anyone to bring any of his gorgeous features to his attention, he just wants to see people recognize them and beg him to show them more.

If you walk up to him and say how attractive or powerful he looks he'd probably answer you with either an "I know," or an "Of course I am,".

During his Fairy Gala voice lines he once said: "Sorry, I'm used to compliment," which can be defined into some interesting facts about him.

Since Jack too mentioned that he entered NRC because he looked up to Leona as his role model, we can assume that Leona is more than just a forgotten second prince back in his hometown. And since he said that he's used to compliment, it might be that he's already famous and admired by his fans as he already is.

But just as we said, compliment is something he enjoys receiving in general; it isn't going to effect him in any special way that might change anything about his personality.

It can't be said that he'd ever mind having someone around to phrase him though, he's more of an "Phrase me and don't stop" type and it isn't something that he'd ever reject unless it turns into something annoying.

8) There's a rather interesting stories behind his lazy nature

This one is rather important, Leona doesn't sleep because he's always tired or sleepy in general. And you need to know that Leona's sleeping issues are totally different from someone like Silver's!

Silver literally can't control his sleeping issues and that's how he's often found asleep in weird places but doesn't even know how he suddenly falls asleep while Leona, can stay awake by his own will whenever he wants to, he's just doesn't want to.

In contrast to a rather common belief on Leona being extremely lazy, he can actually be really hard working at the time. This guy had been through some extreme training as a child, therefore he can do way harder now that he's an adult. Sleeping is literally his way of saying "I don't care", so whenever he's got nothing interesting or worthy of staying up for, he goes back to sleep.

If we give it a psychological look sleeping too much often happens to people whose lives have no specific goals, they're neither motivated nor interested to stay awake if they've got nothing to do so -> Sleeping is the best thing they can do. You can tell that Leona sort of lacks motivation in general, because this considerably lazy lion is the same person as the one who's already working his ass off to prepare for the magic shift tournaments.

In the end, all that matters is what he desires. He's also pretty obsessive with his goals so when he wants something, there's nothing to hold him back from doing anything to achieve his goal. He wants it, he gets it.

9) Leona can be childish, but he isn't a child

We previously discussed why his childhood has effected his personality and now, you may wonder how it's effected him. A child's crucial needs are necessary to be fulfilled during their childhood because they. But even as those needs aren't taken care of, they would remain as holes inside the child's personality, because they're necessities which the child's character will always lack. This is much and less of what I meant by saying that this part of Leona always remains a child.

We talked about how he loves to be praised and appreciated, but now let's think of another example that can reveal that wild child. At nearly the end of Octavinelle's chapter, he was literally acting like a big bad boy taking candy (contract) from a baby (Azul). It's not just that, we can tell that he somehow enjoys bullying and teasing others in general. He won't even take it easy on his close friends like Ruggie or Jack, as he repeatedly insulted Jack back in chapter 2 & 3 and was even close to killing Ruggie in chapter 2.

Leona wants to feel powerful, and to be treated like a King. That's why he sometimes enjoys ordering others like Ruggie around all though he knows that before everything, Ruggie is his friend and deserves to be treated better.

He didn't have many friends as a child, therefore he doesn't really get to be a the perfect friend that his allies might deserve now. It's something rather hard to change about him, but those who know and care for him would certainly understand him and know that this is just the way he is, just like Jack and Ruggie are doing now. They could've left him all alone instead of staying by his side all the time, yet they continue to support and be there for him because they do care for Leona.

10) For now, Malleus is the Mufasa of his story

This one's pretty interesting, I really appreciate the creativity used in this design. We all know that Leona's creation was inspired by Scar from 1994's Lion King, therefore I'm pretty sure that almost all of you are familiar with Lion King's famous tragedy:

As the result of Mufasa's reign over the past few years, hyenas had been living in hunger and dread, there wasn't much food left for them to hunt and they didn't dare stepping into Mufasa's territory either. So Scar decided to take advantage and convinced hyenas that their hard and pitiful lives is Mufasa's fault as the King. He gained their attention and support to help him bring down the King, and promised them the wealthiest of lives where they'll never go hungry again in return. And that's how his plan to kill his own brother succeeded.

Now try to use the same plot in twst, but how is it possible? You may think that it must be with Farena Kingscholar because, Mufasa was also Scar's brother, but there's a problem: Farena isn't in NRC.

We don't know what is going to happen in the future storyline where we might get to face a real legacy between Leona and Farena, but for now, he needs someone in the Night raven College itself to play the role of that special rival so he can present his inner villain. And who would that special rival be? Malleus Draconia.

Now think about what happened in chapter two:

Savanaclaw had been the winner of magic shift tournament for decades until Malleus Draconia entered NRC. His iconic magic skills and horrifying powers led to Diasomnia's championship over the last two years. Savanaclaw is pissed off because they literally can't do anything against him and Leona on the other hand is so mad, (This point would be discussed in the next part) and can't stand Malleus wiping the whole Savanaclaw out for a third year. To top it off, he knows that if this happens again, Malleus would find his way to NRC's hall of fame. So Leona convinces the whole Savanaclaw that it's unfair to the rest of the NRC to lose the chance of revealing their talents and using their skills because of Malleus, and asks them to help him bring Malleus down therefore not only Savanaclaw would have a chance to win again, but also the rest of the students will actually have an opportunity to join a fair battle against each other.

See? This is JUST how Scar used Hyenas' weakness against them to make them pave the way for him and bring his enemy down. But the most interesting part is, it didn't end up in victory like Scar's plan did!

11) His relationship with Malleus has a lot to tell

Some may wonder just how does he think of Malleus? What is the feeling is even supposed to be? Is it jealousy? Hatred? Confusion? But I'm not going to talk about how he exactly feels. Instead, I want to talk about why he's feeling so.

First off, you need to know that Malleus and Leona are two sides of the same coin. They're both princes, they come from well known familiesband they're both great and often feared magicians but, there are some big differences:

Malleus would soon be the King, is among the greatest magicians of the world, is respected and well-known throughout the whole Twisted Wonderland and always finds his way to be the number one in anything that he's involved in.

The big difference between Leona and Malleus is that Malleus has gained everything that Leona always wished to have, he achieved them and Leona failed to do so. Malleus presents the picture perfect Leona thad he'd always wanted to be, and that's why Leona can't stand him.

It's not like he can be blamed for feeling so though, even the thought is painful. Imagine knowing that someone just like you exists in this world which has got everything that you once wanted, just why should it be so? Why should Malleus be the one to have them and not Leona? Isn't this life just too unfair...?

And the most irritating part about this is that Malleus doesn't feel the same way. Leona considers him to be his greatest enemy yet Malleus doesn't even consider Leona a rival. Malleus is always calm while Leona rushes to him which again is annoying, as if he doesn't take Leona seriously at all and this is driving Leona crazy.

That's why he can basically do anything just to make Malleus frown at least, he doesn't care if he's okay himself or not because all he wants is Malleus not to be okay. Another annoying fact about it is that it's really hard to insult or use anything against Malleus because he's just...too perfect. Even Leona won't dare underestimate his powers because he knows that it'll end in no good. He's basically looking for each and every possible detail about Malleus to use against him.

Just like how he did back in Malleus's SR robes story. He couldn't use anything better than telling Malleus that he'll never be invited and making fun of his horns to insult him. It's so annoying when you want to torture someone so badly but you just have nothing useful against them. He is ready to do everything to make Malleus angry, to make his calm and respectful expression disappear and finally take Leona seriously as his rival and enemy.

I'm sure that Leona doesn't know anything about Malleus's tamagotchi otherwise he would've told the whole school about it by now.

12) He isn't one to easily fall in love or to be effected by anyone

Many of the previous parts can reason this point, we talked about his personality, why it's so hard to change anything about him and how we should let Leona be Leona. But still many wonder if he can still fall in love? And the answer is: Yes. Leona as well can fall in love but it isn't necessarily easy.

Leona isn't used to letting people in and accepting that he needs them in life, which is why a relationship with him can have a pretty slow development.

In the first place, it'll take a rather long time for him to first trust someone let alone accepting them as a friend. He's pretty hard to approach you see, mostly because he often wants to be left on his own. He doesn't want to desire or need anyone and doesn't think that he'll ever need any other beings except for the times when he wants to get his room cleaned or have his meal prepared.

Love is something odd to him and it takes a very long time for him to actually feel it. You might think that he won't get it when someone loves him to the point of having to slap and shout: "Can't you see that I'm flirting with you..!??", but he's actually the total opposite. Note that he's pretty smart and would quickly realize it when someone's even staring at him, so nothing would be easier than telling if someone if having a crush on him. But he'd pretend that he doesn't know.

He doesn't really care what others feel about him and even as one loves him, he sees no reason to love them back. Whoever his lover is, they need to be really really patient with him because they must prove him that they aren't giving up this easily. He'd most likely try to tell you off and make you hate him multiple times, it really confuses him to see someone not letting go of him despite knowing how cold and mean he can be. He isn't a stray cat that would that would have his heart melted if you give him some head pats or treat him nicely, gaining Prince Leona's attention is no easy.

Even as he falls in love, it isn't going to totally change everything about him, so we can't expect him to let go of each and every poor manner of his because some of them are basically linked to the way he is in general.

He'd be different though, he tries to be more respectful and charming toward the one he desires, but as a lover he's often the: "Shut up and kiss me" type. He'd still be into teasing, but not in a humiliative way. He just enjoys messing with the people he likes so it's more of his way to play with his darling and showing admiration!

Beware though, if he falls in love, his darling would be his new goal, and he'd take no effort in making his darling his and only his. If he wants the darling, it must be him and only him who will get to have them. Just as much as it's so rare of him to actually reach the level of loving someone, know that he'll be so dangerous when he's serious about it. He won't be messing around when it comes to love.

I can keep talking about him all day but this has already gotten really long and I don't want it to get boring or any longer to read- I must admit that Leona's charater is quite interesting to study and the amount of details about his personality is surely fascinating!

#Twst #twisted wonderland #Twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #Character analysis #leona Kingscholar #leona Kingscholar x reader

922 notes · View notes

cloudy-minded-idiot · 2 years

Text

pumpkin carving

pairing: mostly just bonding with Peter, but a bit of natasha x reader thrown in at the end

warning: mention of knives

word count: ~1,100 words

a/n: I'm aware I haven't posted in forever but I swear I'm not dead, just super busy with uni. I'll try to write more in the future.

to everyone who's decided to follow me during my hiatus: welcome! glad to have you here :) hope you're doing well and wishing you a happy halloween! 😊

summary: you carve pumpkins with peter 🎃

"I'm not sure about this, Spiderling," you mutter, twirling the knife between your fingers with practiced ease. Deep in thought, your brows furrowed. Movement catches your eye as Peter turns to look your way, head cocked to the side as he takes in your progress.

"What do you mean? You're doing great! You're just overthinking."

You hum, pensively tapping the hilt of your knife against your chin.

"You're probably right," you conceded, with a sigh, "I just want it to be perfect."

Dropping the last scoop of pulp and seeds into the bowl between you, Peter rummages around in the some drawers, leaving orange stains on the surface.

"Maybe draw an outline first?" he suggests, holding out a black marker to you, "Here."

With a grateful nod, you take it. Carefully, you start to draw lines and shapes on the orange surface. You are by no means an artist, and the uneven surface doesn't help. Your drawing looks a little bit wonky in the end, but you were satisfied with your work anyway.

Picking your knife back up, you let the blade follow the markings carefully. Peter starts drawing on his pumpkin as well, using a picture on his phone for reference and biting the end of the marker in thought as he compares the two.

The two of you work in companionable silence, exchanging a few tips and tricks here and there. At some point, Peter asked FRIDAY to start playing music in the background and told you about some stuff that happened in school.

You were happy to listen to his stories, nostalgic for a time when getting good grades and a date for homecoming were your biggest problems. Simpler times.

"So you just stole the chemicals from the school lab?" You asked with a raised eyebrow, lips tugging up in amusement.

Peter pauses mid-carving, a sheepish look on his face.

"Well, yeah, I needed more web fluid, Mr. Stark wasn't answering my calls, and you know how Happy is."

You nod, a frown on your face.

"Maybe I should have a word with Tony about ghosting you. Very irresponsible on his part."

Peter's eyes widen almost comically as he hurries to reassure you.

"Oh no! Mr. Stark was just busy with the whole moving and being a superhero thing. Besides, all is well that ends well, right?"

You can tell he is nervous about getting Tony in trouble. So, reluctantly, you drop the topic, for now, still intending to talk to the billionaire another time.

"So, you two had a nice homecoming in the end?"

"Not really," Peter shakes his head sadly, "I pretty much walked out on Liz mid-dance to go fight her dad. And she moved states afterward and never wanted to see me again."

"That's rough, buddy."

He nods in agreement, mustering up a smile.

"But hey, I got a new suit out of it, and I'm more than happy with MJ."

You smile knowingly. Peter talks about his girlfriend pretty much all the time, so you are more than aware of how happy he is with her. You gesture to his pumpkin.

"So, is your pumpkin for MJ?"

Peter shakes his head with a grin.

"Oh no. She's not really that into Halloween. I made this for Thor."

The boy turns the pumpkin around so you can see his carving. It was a pretty good likeness of Thor's beloved hammer. You are impressed.

"I'm sure he'll be pleased. He's always interested in Midgardian customs."

You say the last two words in a poor imitation of your teammate's voice. The teenager chuckles.

"Yeah, and can you believe he has never been around for Halloween before?"

Peter shakes his head, cleaning his knife on a kitchen towel. You shrug.

"Yes, actually. Not a lot of Avengers-grade crimes going on at that time," you shared with a small smile, "I guess spooky season takes away the whole flair and fun of world domination."

Peter nods sagely, "And we all know villains are all about that flair."

Before you can reply, Peter freezes as he stares at something over your shoulder. Instincts kicking in, you grip the knife tighter, jump up, and swivel around, eyes searching for any danger. You relax when you see that it is just an unamused-looking Tony along with the rest of the team.

"What in God's good name have you done to my kitchen?" the billionaire asks, mortified, eyes sweeping the counters covered with orange stains.

You make a careless gesture with your hand.

"Relax. The kid and I will clean up later."

"There's pumpkin everywhere. How did you--"

"Is that Mjölnir!" Thor's boisterous voice interrupted Stark mid-sentence, effectively stopping what was sure to be a rant. The God shoulders past the billionaire to inspect the pumpkin from up close, almost knocking him over in the process.

Peter sits up straighter, holding the orange vegetable up proudly, his fear of Tony's wrath momentarily forgotten.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and Thor is quick to assure him, eagerly taking the pumpkin from his hands.

"It is wonderful," Thor pats Peter on the back with force. Peter hides a wince.

"You are quite talented, my friend. I shall put it outside my room."

Parker beams, and you send him a covert thumbs up. Your eyes scan the room searchingly. Arms snake around your waist, a chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"Looking for someone?" A familiar voice whispers in your ear. Red strands of hair tickling your cheek. You smile, shaking your head.

"Not anymore," you wave towards the pumpkin sitting in front of you, "Look, babe, I made a carving of you."

"That's a spider," Natasha says deadpan.

"Correction: It's a black widow," you say, pointing to the hourglass shape on the spider's body. Natasha let out a small laugh, her breath brushing along your neck.

"It's very good," she compliments and presses a kiss to your cheek, "It's a pity that you're going to have to spend the whole evening cleaning this kitchen. Because I did have other plans for you tonight."

Her words drip with promise as she presses another lingering kiss to your neck. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

"Is that so?"

Turning around in her arms, you press the pumpkin into her hands with a loving smile.

"Hold this for me, will you, darling?"

She takes the pumpkin with a smirk, her arms leaving your waist. You turn back to Peter, who is still in conversation with Thor.

"Parker," you call urgently, running over and pulling him by the sleeve with you, "Go get the sponges we need to clean up ASAP!"

#natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #halloween fic #platonic peter parker fic

22 notes · View notes

weeb-writor · 3 years

Text

MHA boys dating an insecure quirkless reader

Heyo! Today I have request! Its is a lil sad but does have a happy ending as requested! It features two of my favorites Bakugou and Kirishima! And the reader is neutral as usual! I hope you all like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader Kirishima Eijirou

Resquest: Bakugou and Kirishima with a quirkless reader who thinks they aren't good enough until Bakugou/Katsuki tell them they are good enough.

Words: 1442

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

The moment you set eyes on Bakugou you were in love. Did you believe in love at first before him, nah. What else could you call it except that. You were sure you could woo him though until 2 realities hit you straight in the face. 1. Your friend said he was a UA hero in training and 2. He was harsh and brash and would most likely hate you. So you gave up for the most part until one day while you were at a café you heard him and his loud friends come in and sit in the booth next you. They were studying, Bakugou was yelling at them, trying but failing to help them understand. You were just reading and kind of spaced out and yelled out the answer hoping they would quiet down. What you didn't account for was all their eyes suddenly on you.

“Woah how did you solve that so quickly!” A red head said with a cute grin. You were taken a back so you just blinked at the boy.

“You did that all in your head without scrap paper?” Bakugou said, eyebrows raised at you.

“Uhh yeah, it wasn't too hard!” You said turning away from their judgy glances.

“Huh well, im Bakugou Katsuki.” He said reaching his hand out to you with a blush. You hurried to shake it, astonished that he was letting you shake his hand. You don't know how it happened but shortly after that Bakugou claimed you were his person, his dumbass, and you of course let him. And when he had to rescue you from some of your constant bullies he told you it didn't matter you were quirkless. You were strong and perfect to him so fuck anyone who thought different. So how did you end up here, crying on the roof of an abandoned house? There were a few reasons why. One you felt hopeless Bakugou had just been in a fight nearly dying and you could do nothing but watch from home and two… well how could someone like you even stand near Bakugou let alone be good enough to date him. You in fact weren't not strong, or brave, or heroic. You are a quirkless kid who has nothing and nobody but yourself. Bakugou would realize it soon, that he was the star and you were just a kid wishing to be close to him. These are the awful thoughts that lead you here. Just gazing at the stars in the middle of the night.

“You haven't called me in weeks, seen me in weeks, when I come to you, you avoid me and then no one hears from you in a week and I find you here?!” A voice yelled from behind you, you immediately knew it was Bakugou.

“Oh Bakugou….” You said turning to him shocked to say the least.

“God dammit, I keep telling you to call me Katsuki. What’s happening Y/n, why are you acting like this? I don't understand, is it me?” He said, his eyes watery. You imdeiatly were filled with regret. The boy blamed himself for everything that ever went wrong and the last thing you ever wanted to do was add to it.

“No! Nothing to do with you, promise.” You said taking his head in your hands, making him meet your eyes.

“It's got something to with me, cause if it didn't, cause if you trusted me and loved me like you say you would talk to me.” He yelled as quietly as he could.

“It’s me, okay?!” You yelled at him. This got his attention you never yelled.

“I am kidding myself in this relationship.” You paused to let out a sad and watery chuckle. “I’m not… I'm not good enough for you. You are so amazing and you are gonna be number one someday. Surrounded by other great heroes and people, but me. I am a quirkless idiot who fell in love with someone way out of my league.”

“What a stubborn asshole you are. Maybe this is a punishment for bullying Deku all those years. I'm hopelessly in love with you, and you can't fathom that I love you. I don't know how many times I have to say I love you and I don't care that you’re quirkless. You are the only person good enough for me, the only person I’m not good enough for if anything. Okay? You are more than good enough for me.” He said eyes boring into yours. You felt as if a weight had been lifted off your chest. And with teary eyes you nodded at him before you were engulfed in a hug.

“Say that you're good enough.” He whispered to you.

“I am good enough for you… Katsuki.” You whispered back after a moment. Your head felt wet as he sniffled.

“Yeah you are dumbass.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

You and Kirishima’s meeting was a little odd. You were walking home when you heard a soft voice coming from an alley. Ignoring everything your parents taught you about stranger danger you followed the voice. It led you to a red head boy who was laying on the ground calling for a cat.

“Is it your cat?” You asked sitting down next to him. He jumped at your voice but turned to look at you with a smile. You immediately noticed this was Red Riot, an up and coming Hero.

“No, just a stray who’s in pretty rough shape, figured he needed a hero.” He said combing through his hair.

“Okay, then let me help.” You said as you took some food from your backpack and trailed a line of food from the dumpster to you guys. It didn’t take long for the cat to wander out and get the food. Took him a while to trust you guys enough to take food from your hands but he did and now he was loving head pats from Bakugou’s big hand.

“What a hero you are.” Kirishima said as both of you got up the cat in the carrier.

“Oh no, just a quirkless person who loves animals!” You said with a soft smile. He blinked at you before grinning.

“Still my hero but I was thinking I’m gonna keep him. We could co-parent if you want! I’m Kirishima Eijirou!” He said handing you a piece of paper. Before you could respond, he was gone. This was how your relationship began. Your relationship remained this fun and interesting for 2 years before the doubts hit you. That’s how you ended up here. Scrolling through all the posts and comments about you and Kirishima since you had become public. There were a lot and a lot of them were accepting and nice but the others were disgusting. All of them about how you weren’t good enough, how you stole him away from Mina, his childhood sweetheart and how deserving of him she was. You were in such a daze you didn’t even notice Kirishima come in to talk to you.

“Y/n!!” He yelled to you. You quickly blinked at him with tears in your eyes.

“Welcome home!” You tried your best to smile. He just stared at you for a second before he took your phone which you failed to hide. You didn’t even try to get it back, knowing his strength. His face dropped as he read the comments.

“Y/n why are you reading stuff like this?” He said as he broke your phone in anger.

“Because it’s true!” You yelled back at him. His mouth hung open at that.

“Because I’m not good enough for you, I’m a quirkless wannabe and Mina she’s perfect and strong and she has a quirk! She is deserving of you and I’m not!” You screamed trying to wipe away the cascade of tears running down your face.

“You’re right, Mina is strong and yeah, she does have a kickass quirk. She is also one of my best friends but do you know what she is not? She isn’t you. Y/n I fell in love with you! Whatever that means and anything that means. You are more than good enough for me! No matter what you do on tv or online. I love you y/n and you're amazing. Quirk or not okay?” He said, beginning to cry too.

“Don’t cry!” You said wiping the tears from his face.

“Then stop thinking weird things! You are enough! You’re better than enough.”

“Okay I’ll work on it but stop crying.” You said laughing through your tears

“I can’t just stop crying on demand I’m not a robot y/n” He whined cutely at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou angst #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #bnha eijiro kirishima #bnha kirishima

243 notes · View notes

wordstro · 3 years

Text

[12:07 PM] + hero/villain au + "no more chances." + part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

2.3k, mentions of panic attacks, kind of a small in-between part mostly from san's pov, though the last part goes back to the plot/reader pov and is important, wooyoung is incredibly mean I'm very sorry to everyone this series is very angsty :(

choi san loved too deeply. he knew this. he knew everyone around him knew this. his love ran too deep, like all the other emotions he's ever felt, and they say there is a thin line between love and hate.

he did not want to hate you. he did not want to hate wooyoung, yeosang, seonghwa, jongho. he did not want to feel this way, as if all the love in his heart has hardened into this solid indestructible thing that lay so heavy in his chest, some nights he could not breathe from the weight of it.

he did not want to hate anyone, but as he stood before the crumbling remnants of what was once an apartment building, surrounded by the sounds of wailing people, children and adults alike, and sirens and the solemn shouts of paramedics, he could not help it.

you were wordless as you tore the building from it's foundations, ignoring san's pleads to stop. the child in his arms squirmed, sobbing silently, and he could do nothing but shout as he phased through crumbling walls to rescue anyone he could get his hands on.

he should have known you would join wooyoung, yeosang, seonghwa, and jongho eventually. no matter how many times you held san's hand and reminded him to breathe when things would get too much, no matter how many times you set up dinners and movie nights in the new groupchat to keep everyone distracted, no matter how many times he saw you crumble as well when you thought no one was looking, san should have known you'd join them.

san should have known you'd join wooyoung.

because san saw the way you used to look at him, before Everything. san understood it. san hated you for it. san hated that he understood you for it. the rage he felt when he saw wooyoung and yeosang burned at his eyes, at the weight in his chest. now, when no one was there to hold him through the weight in his chest, when yunho and hongjoong and mingi were too busy keeping themselves together, he imagined following your example. the guilt from those thoughts alone kept him from ever following through, focusing his attention on taking up the tasks you left behind, the group chats and the movie nights and the dinners.

"no, this isn't right. this can't be right." mingi's deep voice held a sorrow san would never forget, the first time they saw you after days of radio silence.

but that first time, they did not have time to mourn the new loss. you did not entertain their sorrows nor their questions. wooyoung spoke instead, snarky and mocking, his hand on your shoulder, your back, always hovering close by. you broke yunho's arm with an easy flick of your wrists, and you did not bat an eye as you did it, twisting his broken bones. yunho hadn't taken his gloves off, despite that. not once.

no remorse. it was so unlike you, but every encounter was the same and san figured this was just the real you all along.

now, he stands in the wake of your destruction and he reminds himself to breathe. he only moves when he notices yunho waving him down to the leveled street below.

"is someone stuck?" san asks, the moment he's within earshot, scanning their surroundings. "do they - what's wrong?"

alarms ring at the back of san's head. hongjoong crouches before them, head cradled in his hands, fingers curled into fists. yunho stares down at hongjoong. he looks sad, too sad. mingi crouches beside hongjoong, rubbing his back. he cranes his neck to look at san. his eyes are uncharacteristically solemn.

san steps closer, dreading the answer even as he asks, "what is it?"

hongjoong lifts his head, a slow ascent, and san expects grief and broken exhaustion. instead, he finds fury. he finds nails digging into the palms of his hand and a rage san has only seen from hongjoong a handful of times.

hongjoong uncurls his fists, and a familiar pouch dangles from his fingers, shaped like a strawberry. it would always dangle from your belt loop, your wallet, your bag straps, anything you could clip it to. he had a similar one stuffed away somewhere in his drawers, of an orange. mingi had given it to him.

hongjoong holds them out for san, wordless.

san drops to his knees, reaching for the note first.

his heart sinks in his chest at the word scrawled across the ripped paper. your handwriting.

help.

nonsensical instructions.

from the strawberry pouch slips a needle containing clear liquid. he blinks.

"it's the research they stole. from the biomedical department months ago." yunho tells him. "power enhancement serums. laced with one of the villain's powers, according to y/n."

hongjoong grits his teeth, "it explains why y/n can suddenly tear buildings off the ground."

san stares.

"they wouldn't - don't they know how dangerous this thing is?" mingi stares at the serum in apprehension, "the notes detailed the failed tests. one of them lost an arm from it. i doubt they have proper equipment to test thi-"

"whose powers did they lace this with?" san clutches the serum.

"y/n didn't say," mingi shakes his head.

san meets his gaze, before he glances from yunho's downcast eyes to hongjoong's angry gaze.

"or they couldn't say?" san asks, the weight in his chest growing so heavy, he'll sink into the earth and come out on the other side of the world because of it.

yunho closes his eyes, "yeosang wouldn't do that."

"do you really believe that? now?" san grits his teeth, turning on yunho. "after everything?"

"i have to." yunho breathes.

hongjoong just rubs his eyes, sighing loudly.

he says, "we'll use the words and hope they're telling the truth. it's...if it's true then we need to help them."

"what about..." mingi trails off, frowning. they haven't spoken their names aloud in a long long time.

"if this is true, there's no helping them. wooyoung, yeosang, seonghwa, jongho." hongjoong closes his eyes, "there's no bringing them back from something like this."

san just sinks to his knees and nods and nods, strawberry pouch rough against his palms. he's supposed to hate them, but why does he feel so much dread?

~.~.~.~.~

you wake up to the soothing feeling of fingers in your hair and a soreness in your muscles you do not want to dwell on. you've learned it's better to ignore your brain when it starts imagining all the atrocities you must have done while under the serum's control.

you open your eyes and wooyoung looks down at you, fingers still tangled in your hair, his touch warm. you're sprawled across the couch, you realize, a blanket thrown over your legs, your head nestled against his warm thigh.

"you're back," wooyoung says, voice soft. he's not smiling.

you nod, lifting your head, but your vision grows spotted. so you drop your head back against his thigh.

wooyoung's hand remains in your hair, though the soothing circles have stilled. you crane your neck to look at seonghwa, with his back against the couch near your feet, to jongho and yeosang who both sit side by side on the other couch, shoulders touching. the television is muted. neither of them are looking at it. only seonghwa. you cannot read their expressions.

you lift your head against, sitting up, "what's -"

wooyoung grips your hair and pulls you back down. you blink, startled, gripping his hand. you can't use your full strength, because of yeosang's instructions, but you can just enough to make it hurt. he winces, his jaw tightening, but he does not let go. neither do you. even when the heat radiating from his hand is searing. even when it's too close to your face.

wooyoung says, voice low, angry, full of betrayal, "where is the serum you stole?"

a vindictive part of you relishes in the emotions running through his face. he deserves to feel what he put you through a year ago.

you look to yeosang and jongho. both of them just stare at you, waiting. you look down, at seonghwa. he doesn't look at either of you. your heart races in your chest.

"can't you just have yeosang make me tell you?" you hiss.

"i'm giving you a chance to tell us the fucking truth," he lets go and you sit up, flinging yourself away from him. your hands burn and you can make out bruises against his skin, as well. wooyoung looks you dead in the eyes as he says, "i'm giving you a chance to come back from this. to help yourself."

"no," you spit.

you think he'll tell yeosang to spill everything. you think, for a moment, that wooyoung will burn you alive where you sit. the rage in his eyes, the cold fury, is everything you felt when he left you in the rubble over a year ago. you think he'll finally kill you.

but wooyoung sits at the edge of the couch and he speaks, with a calmness that makes you scoot back further until your elbow grazes the back of seonghwa's head.

he says, "did i ever tell you the things you do when you're under the serum's control?"

"your control." you correct, because he doesn't get to separate himself from his actions. he doesn't deserve that.

wooyoung laughs. it is not amused. "the world doesn't think that. they think you did this all on your own."

"we both know -"

"you broke yunho's arm. he never even took off his gloves, you know that? but you took his arm in yours and you shattered his bones into so many pieces. you would have done the other arm if yeosang hadn't called you back."

you blink, your heart sinking to your chest, fingers curling into fists. your eyes flicker to yeosang. he nods, closing his eyes as he does so.

wooyoung doesn't stop there.

"you know that apartment building you wanted us all to move in to a few years ago? you ripped it from the ground. fourteen stories. 106 dead. we never even asked you to do that. you just did it."

"stop." you cover your ears.

"yeosang, tell them to put their hands in their lap."

yeosang does as wooyoung says.

"you beat the ever-living shit out of mingi and hongjoong so many times already. to the brink of death." wooyoung tilts his head, "in fact, i think a few of the heroes are dead because of you. their vigils were on the news. i can tell you exactly how you killed them. what were their names again?"

he makes a show of thinking, tapping his chin, dark eyes watching you shake your head.

you struggle with yeosang's compulsion, but your hands lay limp in your lap. you hate it when you plead, hate the tears slipping down your cheeks and how weak you feel. your powers had guaranteed that at least. that you would always be stronger. "wooyoung, plea -"

"lee taeyong. skull crushed by your bare hands. kang seulgi. broken in half, bones shattered and nearly unrecognizable. seo -"

"wooyoung, enough."

seonghwa's voice is soft, but there's a finality to it that wooyoung obeys.

your sobs curl at your chest, and the pain of it is excruciating. your hands still remain limp in your lap, so you can't even wipe your tears or save your dignity.

wooyoung says, "you have nowhere to go back to, y/n. the whole world sees you as a killer. this is your life now, but it can change. if you don't tell us what you did with the serum, it will change." he reaches out and places a warm hand over your limp ones, leaning in to meet your gaze, "i'm giving you one last chance to fix it, y/n. your only chance."

"i..." you take a deep breath, your brain conjuring images of everything he's said you'd done. yunho. civilians. mingi and hongjoong. san. 106 civilians. lee taeyong and kang seulgi. there were more. he had a list.

wooyoung wasn't lying about any of it. wooyoung is many things, but when he is angry, he tells the bitter truth especially when it hurts.

"under the mattress," you hiccup, "i was going to give it to someone, but...but i didn't know who or how so i just kept it."

jongho goes to your room and you wince at the slamming. he returns moments later with the serum in his hands.

wooyoung threads his fingers through yours and he gently brushes at your wet cheeks. he speaks sweetly, "shhh, it's okay. you're okay."

you stare at the serum in jongho's hands, your heart pumping in your chest. yeosang's fingers curl around the serum as he takes it from jongho.

as wooyoung examines your reddened, still limp hands with his bruised ones, he taps your chin, his gentle voice a sharp contrast to his words, "no more chances."

it's not just a reminder. it's a warning. your eyes flit to the serum in yeosang's hands.

#ateez #ateez angst #wooyoung angst #wooyoung #ateez scenarios #hero/villain au

60 notes · View notes

soggy-platee · 3 years

Text

What Do We Do Now?- Chp. 1

Rating: E for now, explicit in later chapters

Pairing: Din x fem!Reader

Summary: A certain Mandalorian picks up your bounty.

Read on ao3 here!

You were really regretting your decision to not cut your hair this morning, as it was the sole reason you were currently face down in some dusty cantina with both of your wrists in a bruising grip behind your back.

In the spare moment you have in the time it takes for the Mandalorian to slap a pair of cuffs onto your wrists, you think back to the events earlier that day.

…

Tatooine was hot, and you hated it. You had been hiding on the dusty little planet for a little over 3 months. With a bounty looming over your head, you knew you needed to find a planet where the Guild no longer operated. Tatooine wasn’t the best option, still filled to the brim with Outer Rim scum, but it would work.

At least, you thought it would.

You stared at yourself in the small mirror, in the small refresher, within the even smaller flat you managed to rent out with your limited supply of credits. Tired eyes stared back at you, this whole “fugitive of the law” was getting to you. You took to the role pretty well, however. You knew you weren’t notable, and that’s the way you liked it. Average height, average build, average everything. You knew standing out would get you into trouble, so you did your best to avoid it at all costs. The only reprieve from this normality you allowed yourself was your hair. It was exceptionally long for a blazing planet like the one you currently resided on. When braided, how you normally wore it, in one long rope down your back, it easily reached the curve of your ass.

Today, like every day, you thought about cutting it off at the nape of your neck. You knew it would be better for you in the long run.

It would at least cool me off, you thought sourly.

Despite the logic in it, you could never bring yourself to do it. Maybe it had to do with your mother and the often horrific haircuts she managed to give you consistently as a child. You shivered at the thought of your mother finding out about the bounty on your head. She would kill you herself.

You didn’t mean to end up like this. Parents dead, no family left, and most importantly, no credits had left you in a tight spot as a young woman in the Outer Rim. You knew there were only two options for someone in your position, and you certainly were not pretty enough to make money off the most common option, so you became a thief. Petty at first, only stealing from those you deemed deserving. As you grew older, however, so did your crimes. Larger values, higher-profile targets, until you stole from the wrong person. Well, not stole per se. More like freed. Some high-profile dignitary from the Empire who still had influence. You had only planned to take the typical valuables, credits, and such. It was only by coincidence that you happened to free what you assumed was a typical house slave.

She had found you mid-job, begged you to get her out. She had looked so broken. So innocent. You cursed to yourself and hauled her out of the mansion with you.

Apparently, that “house slave” had really been “Mrs. Important Dignitary”, so essentially, you stole the guy’s wife. Great. If only you hadn’t been so soft. You knew it would get you in trouble. You knew-

You were shaken out of your thoughts by voices outside your window.

One soft, speaking so quickly they were almost tripping over their words. You creaked the door to the fresher and peaked your head out just enough to see though the small window in the side of your flat and into the alley beyond. You saw the quiet figure, but couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying. A young man you realized now was a local of the area, you had seen him around. But why did he look so scared? You craned your neck in an attempt to see who was frightening this man so, but you couldn’t do it without being directly in the mystery man’s eyeline. So you waited for a response as the other man trailed off. However, one never came. You simply saw a wild reflection of the light of the suns dance over the ally as you assumed the other person turned to walk away.

Armor, your stomach dropped as your mind supplied the explanation. Whether or not this person was here for you was still up for debate, but you knew they were dangerous. Only dangerous people still wore armor in the face of the blazing heat of Tatooine.

Once you were sure the armor-wearer had left, you snuck out of the fresher, grabbed your blaster, and vaulted quietly out the window to tail the other man. You fell into step behind him as he exited the ally and entered the busy street. You followed him through the crowd, staying enough paces behind him that he didn’t notice. You followed him for a good five minutes before he took an abrupt turn down another deserted alley. It was at this point he noticed you following him and tried to break into a sprint.

You were on him before he could even let the first beat land, pressing him up against a building lining the way with your arm at his sternum. He was taller than you, so you pointed your blaster up and dug it under his chin.

“Who the hell were you talking to?” you demanded, dropping your voice to the most intimidating octave you could muster.

The man in front of you sputtered, eyes wide with fear. You needed an answer.

You dug your blaster harder into the soft flesh under his jaw, presumably making it harder to breathe.

“Who?!” you practically growled at him, hoping it would do the trick

The man opened his mouth as if to answer you before the words died in his mouth. His eyes went even wider than before, if that was possible, and fixed on something above and behind your head. Your eyes remained on the man, but something behind him distracted you just as equally.

The same dancing lights you had just seen outside your flat made their way across the building behind the two of you. Your head whipped around to see a wall of armor standing at the mouth of the ally.

That bastard sent a Mandalorian? You were dead. That’s it, game over. Dead.

Even though your brain knew you were dead, your instincts still kicked in enough to release the man and shove him toward the entrance of the ally in one swift motion before taking off in the opposite direction. You fought the urge to turn back as you ran harder than you ever had in your life.

He knew I saw him question that man, he knew I would follow him to get answers.

At least you would get taken down by a clever bounty hunter.

More pressingly, you were coming to the end of the ally, closed off by a large gate. No way over it, you thought, too high. Sides? Pressed flush against the building, no getting through there. Bottom? Now there’s an option. The bottom was just high enough off the ground for you to shimmy through. Even though you only caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian, you knew he was too bulky to ever follow.

You might actually get away with this.

You dared yourself a glance back and the Mandalorian was nearly on you.

How is he so fast with all that shit on him?

You were only a few paces from the fence, it was now or never. You dove. Your upper body sparked in pain as you impacted the rough dirt. You slid smoothly until your ass hit the fence. Dammit. You desperately shimmied the rest of the way under the fence. You were almost there. You were going to make it.

Then you felt a grip on your boot, the only part of you not under the fence. You yelped loudly as you were ruthlessly pulled back, the majority of your calf returning to the other side. Your fingers clawed at the ground and your other leg kicked desperately at the gloved hand that held you.

Maker, he’s too strong

With another tug, you were almost up to your knees on the other side of the fence. While you were grunting and panting hard, the helmet behind you was absolutely silent, unnervingly so.

You knew you had to come up with something now. He still only managed to have you around your left ankle, so you brought your other foot up and pushed at the top of your left boot, hard. It slid free of your foot, and with one more push, your socked foot came out and pushed off the ground for leverage. He grabbed only a moment late as the last bits of you slipped under the fence. You kicked desperately at the ground and ran, only pausing when you were sure there was an absence of footsteps behind you.

You turned briefly and saw the Mandalorian standing there. A thrill ran through you.

What?

This man was trying to kill you, and yet the sight of him just standing there, glowering, still gripping your boot in his hand sent fire to the pit of your stomach. He was tall, taller than you first realized. Even in the alley far apart he seemed to crowd over you with his presence alone. You met where you assumed his eyes would be behind the t-shaped visor.

You could only imagine what he saw. Your eyes wide, mouth open, covered in dirt and wearing only one shoe.

This image of yourself roused you from your frankly insane thoughts, and you turned and ran.

…

After getting over what little pride you had garnered from managing to escape a Mandalorian, you realized how absolutely fucked you were.

Where were you supposed to go?

You couldn’t go back to your flat, that was out of the question. You couldn’t shack up with anyone you knew and liked in town, that would automatically put them in danger. You couldn’t shack up with anyone you knew and disliked because they would never let you in the front door, probably try to deliver you to the Mandalorian themselves.

So you end in the only place in which you knew you could get passage of the planet, the cantina. Thankfully it was busy tonight, so you could blend in well enough. You waited well late in the night, hiding close enough to see the entry and exit. No armor in sight. After your anxiety had built to a crescendo, you pushed yourself out of your hiding place and, on shaky legs, made your way to the front door. You entered with your hood pushed up over your head and your braid tucked into your cloak, trying to move as inconspicuously as possible. That was, until you heard your name shouted as loudly as possible.

You winced as your name echoed throughout the room and heads turned, yours slowly moving to face the voice that gave you away.

Ali. You love her to death, but she wasn’t the brightest one in the galaxy. She beamed at you from behind the bar, surrounded by patrons and their wandering eyes as usual. Ali was beautiful and she loved the attention, something you very much did not need right now.

You quickly made your way over to her at the bar, the serious look on your face made her cheerful expression drop at once.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she questioned, still in a too-loud voice.

“I’m fine, just hiding” you gritted out from behind clenched teeth.

Ali seemed to get with the program then, lowering her voice and body to match your crunched position over the counter.

“Someone’s collecting on your bounty?” she whispered intently, with a trace of concern for you in her voice that softened your previous anger at her.

You had told her about your bounty about a month after being in town, you trusted her, she was good. That is why you very much did not want her caught up in this mess.

“Yes”, you replied, “A Mandalorian”

You saw the same realization hit her as had hit you.

“You’re dead” she said with wide eyes.

Great.

“I know, I’m trying to get off-planet. Are there any ships passing through tonight?”

“Not that I’ve heard, I’m sorry”

She really was.

You gave her a tight smile and turned to leave when you heard your name for a second time that day.

This time, it came from a gruff, older voice, and it came from a man pointing right at you from across the cantina.

The man was standing next to a solid wall of armor, with a familiar visor pointed straight at you.

Shit.

He made for you before you could make for the door, crossing the floor in seconds and grabbing your cloak. The same trick worked twice apparently, as you reached up and released the clasp around your throat and pushed yourself to a sprint toward the door.

You were going to make it, you were so close, you-

The next thing you knew, a blinding pain erupted from the back of your head and the world tilted around you until your shoulders smashed into the rough floor.

He grabbed your braid.

That was low.

One hand still wrapped tight around your hair, his other hand was used to flip you onto your stomach and wrench your wrists behind your back. Cuffs were slapped on and hummed to life as his knees caged your back. You bucked, trying to get him off you, or at least make him move, but he was solid.

The lost chance of cutting your hair this morning flashed in your mind, you grimaced with regret.

You kept thrashing, and in return, he wound your braid around his hand and yanked, earning a yelp from you as your head and chest were lifted from their place smashed into the ground and his helmet lowered so it was level with your face.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold”

You stilled. It was the first time you heard his voice, and it sent a thrill through your spine. Maker, what was wrong with you.

The slight arousal was quickly tamped down and replaced with overwhelming fear as he wrenched you from your position on the ground and to your feet.

The entire cantina had gone quiet with your brawl, all eyes on you both. As he pulled you into a standing position, he cast a glance, or at least you thought he did, at the other patrons, who all quickly averted their eyes and continued their conversations in hushed whispers.

He began to pull you to the door and you made final, desperate eye contact with Ali who looked devastated. You gave her a small smile as a goodbye and the door to the cantina slammed shut behind the two of you.

...

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #fanfic #ao3

33 notes · View notes

myfanwymusings · 3 years

Photo

TAYLOR SWIFT / EVERMORE

The following is a collection of lyric sentence starters from Taylor Swift’s ninth studio album evermore. Some lyrics have been slightly modified for ease of role-playing. Feel free to change any tense or pronouns. May contain mature content. This has been reposted from my old blog.

WILLOW

I’m rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife

If it was an open-shut case I never would have known from the look on your face

Lost in your current like a priceless wine

The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray, I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

I'm begging for you

I can feel you sneaking in

There was one prize I'd cheat to win

They count me out time and time again

Anywhere else is hollow

That's my man

I come back stronger than a '90s trend

Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark

I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

This is an open-shut case

I should’ve known from the look on your face

Hey, that's my man

Yeah, that's my man

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

You booked the night train for a reason

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

You told your family for a reason

You dropped my hand while dancing, left me out there standing

Love slipped beyond your reaches and I couldn't give a reason

This dorm was once a madhouse

Well, it's made for me

Soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through

I never was ready so I watch you go

She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head

Sometimes you just don't know the answer til someone's on their knees and asks you

You won't remember all my champagne problems

GOLD RUSH

I don't like a gold rush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

My mind turns your life into folklore

I won't call you out on your contrarian shit

‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON

If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you

There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you it's the same to me

You could call me "babe" for the weekend

We could call it even

Remember how you watched me leave

You can run, but only so far

And the road not taken looks real good now

Hear me out, we could just ride around

The road not taken looks real good now and it always leads to you in my hometown

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

I wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm faking'

The heart I know I'm breaking' is my own

Even though I'm leaving' and I'll be yours for the weekend

'Tis the damn season

TOLERATE IT

I notice everything you do or don't do

You're so much older and wiser

If it's all in my head tell me now

Tell me I've got it wrong somehow

I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky - now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins?

Believe me, I could do it

NO BODY, NO CRIME

He did it

Her husband's actin' different, and it smells like infidelity

That ain't my Merlot on his mouth. That ain't my jewelry on our joint account

I think I'm gonna call him out

No, there ain't no doubt

I think he did it, but I just can't prove it

No body, no crime

I ain't letting' up until the day I die

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

She was with me, dude

They think she did it, but they just can't prove it

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

I wasn't letting' up until the day he died

HAPPINESS

I see this for what it is

All the years I've given is just shit we're dividing' up

I can't face reinvention

There will be happiness after you

There was happiness because of you

Haunted by the look in my eyes that would've loved you for a lifetime

Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk?

I hope she'll be your beautiful fool, who takes my spot next to you

No, I didn't mean that

Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury

You haven't met the new me yet

There will be happiness after me

There was happiness because of me

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night, now I get fake niceties

No one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him, too

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness

After giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that?

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness. You haven't met the new me yet and I think she'll give you that

DOROTHEA

Do you ever stop and think about me?

A tiny screen's the only place I see you now

I got nothing but well-wishes for ya

This place is the same as it ever was but you don't like it that way

It's never too late to come back to my side

You're a queen selling' dreams, selling' makeup and magazines

From you I'd buy anything

But are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers?

I guess I'll never know

If you're ever tired of being known for who you know, you'll always know me.

CONEY ISLAND

If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

And if this is the long haul how'd we get here so soon?

Did I close my fist around something delicate?

Did I shatter you?

Sorry for not making you my centerfold

What's a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?

Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

We were like the mall before the internet

Were you waiting at our old spot: in the tree line by the gold clock?

Did I leave you hanging every single day?

When I got into the accident the sight that flashed before me was your face

IVY

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

I just sit here and wait, grieving for the living

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed

Your opal eyes are all I wish to see

I'd live and die for moments that we stole

What would he do if he found us out?

Dare to sit and watch what we'll become

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it

It's the goddamn fight of my life and you started it

COWBOY LIKE ME

Dancing' is a dangerous game

I'm never gonna love again

I've got some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

Never wanted love, just a fancy car

You're a cowboy like me

I’m telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

You're a bandit like me

Never thought I'd meet you here

We could be the way forward and I know I'll pay for it

The skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

The old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one

Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon

Forever is the sweetest con

LONG STORY SHORT

I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides

Long story short, it was a bad time

If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break

I clung to the nearest lips and long story short, it was the wrong guy

Now I'm all about you

Actually, I always felt I must look better in the rear view - missing me.

If someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready

No more keeping' score, now I just keep you warm

Past me, I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things

Your nemeses will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing

He feels like home

Long story short, I survived

MARJORIE

Never be so kind you forget to be clever

Never be so clever you forget to be kind

If I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now

If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around

You're alive in my head

What died didn't stay dead

You're alive, so alive

Never be so polite you forget your power

Nevеr wield such power you forget to be polite

I should've asked you questions

Should've kept every grocery store receipt cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

I know better but you're still around

I still feel you all around

CLOSURE

It's been a long time and seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain

Yes, I'm doing better

I don't need your closure

Yes, I got your letter

Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled

I'm fine with my spite and my tears, and my beers and my candles

I know I'm just a wrinkle in your new life

Staying friends would iron it out so nice

EVERMORE

Gray November, I've been down since July

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where I went wrong

I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore

Guess I'm feeling unmoored

Can't remember what I used to fight for

Can't not think of all the cost and the things that will be lost

To be certain, we'll be tall again

Is there a line that I could just go cross?

And when I was shipwrecked I thought of you

It was real enough to get me through

I dreamed of you

I swear you were there

I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn't be for evermore

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

Friends break up

I'm right where you left me

Help

I'm still at the restaurant

I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

What a sad sight...

I felt the moment stop

They expected me to find perspective

Everybody moved on, but I stayed there

You left me no choice

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everyone else

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Breakups happen every day

I was still the one you wanted

If our love died young, I can't bare witness

If you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me

IT'S TIME TO GO

He's insisting that friends look at each other like that

The words of a sister come back in whispers

She's a crook that was caught

She was not in fact what she seemed

You know when it's time to go

Twenty years at that job, then the boss of the son gets the spot....

Keeping it how it was will only break hearts worse

Sometimes giving up is the strong thing

Sometimes walking out is the one thing that will find you the right thing

Sometimes to run is the brave thing

I gave my all

He gave me nothing at all

He's got my past frozen behind glass but I've got me

You will know in your soul that it's time to go

#inbox memes.#rph #rpc #roleplay memes.#taylor swift lyrics.

31 notes · View notes

imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Thirty-Seven) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of death, torture, panic attack, PTSD-- everything Criminal Minds. Talk of sex, BDSM, Dom/sub relationship, etc.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 11928

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 06. Seven months after part thirty-six.

I huffed as more flour fell off the counter and landed on the tile floor of the kitchen. I promised Hotch that Jack and I would be clean, but it was getting increasingly hard to uphold my end of that deal as Jack tried to start a food fight. I was trying my hardest to not dip a finger into the sugar and drag it onto Jack’s nose. Despite the fact that Jack wanted to make these cookies in the first place, it seemed like I was doing all the work while he was trying to make the world’s biggest mess. Hotch definitely saw this coming. Which, in hindsight, was probably why he tried to warn me away from the task, but I wanted to spend some time with Jack doing something he was excited about. And this was that something. Unfortunately for me.

Jack had jumped onto our bed before we were awake, begging us to help him make some Halloween cookies. Hotch groaned and told him that we could just go buy some at the grocery store— but Jack was adamant that he wanted to make them homemade, just like Haley used to do. Hotch opened his eyes in an instant and looked at me, searching for help that I was refusing to give. I thought that it was a good idea, and if it was tradition, what was the harm. Hotch knew, though. The bastard knew and he didn’t warn me. I mean, he tried to tell me that if it got too messy, it would be my mess to clean up. When I told him, “Make me” after Jack left, Hotch warned that if I didn’t pick up after, then I’d have a problem walking tomorrow.

That threat was enough to convince me to try and baby Jack while we started gathering up all of the ingredients to make the cookies he wanted. It started fun and innocent, but the more bored Jack got with the process, the quicker he was to spiral into chaos. He thought it was funny to stick his hand into the bag of sugar and eat a handful of it. Not only did it just encourage his sugar high that had come with all the candy laying around the house, but it got everywhere. I tried to warn him to not do it again, but he got smart and started chugging the orange and black sprinkles. When I noticed what he was doing, I tickled him to loosen his grip around the bottle, then hid it on a shelf that was too high up for him to reach. Then, as we started rolling the dough, Jack kept trying to steal some to eat raw, which I told him wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t seem to care.

“It tastes good!” he had insisted after I squinted sternly at him.

When the cookies were finally in the oven and I managed to shoo Jack away so that he couldn’t find some way to burn down the house, I started cleaning up the mess we made. There was flour and sugar all over the counters, the floor, and, somehow, the wall. Jack had dropped a few sprinkles, too, but by some miracle, most of them managed to make their way into his mouth before I stole them away. I wiped down the counters after sweeping up the floor first. When that was finished, I grabbed the cookie cutters to put away. Jack had wanted black cat and pumpkin shaped cookies, tossing the ghost shaped cutter to the side the moment he laid eyes on it.

Once the kitchen was clean, I had a few minutes to spare before the cookies would be done baking in the oven. Jack was out in the living room, watching a random Halloween movie; Hotch and Jessica were outside, decorating the house together while talking about Jack, probably. We had been away a lot recently, and Hotch was still worried about Jack since Haley’s death. Because Jessica spent more time with Jack than anyone else, it made sense for him to go to her about his son—

The kitchen timer dinged.

“Jack, go grab Dad and Aunt Jessica!” I called out.

I heard the TV turn off and the front door fly open as I leaned down with oven mitts on to grab the cookie sheet. I set the tray on a pair of hot pads on the counter and sighed while taking off the mitts. The cookies looked good, and they’d be fairly easy to decorate— especially since Jack was probably just going to spray orange and black frosting and sprinkles on them randomly before calling it a day.

Three pairs of footsteps echoed throughout the house, the front door closing behind the last one inside. In a minute, Jack came running up to me, and when he tried to touch the cookie sheet, I pulled his hands away with a warning that it was too hot. Jessica and Hotch walked in shortly after. Hotch hummed happily. I smiled at him to notice that he was taking in the scent of sugar cookies. My nose had grown accustomed to it, but Hotch notes aloud how good it smelled, and I said that it was all Jack’s doing. “And the mess?” Hotch had asked, gesturing to the tiniest bit of sugar and sprinkles under the counter; to which, my smile disappeared, and I squinted at him. He only grinned. He was going to find any reason to tie me down to the bed.

When the cookies had cooled off, Hotch lifted Jack onto the kitchen island and handed him a container of frosting. I handed Jessica the sprinkles. I let her know that she was in charge of them, and not to give Jack the opportunity to throw them everywhere like confetti. She laughed and accepted responsibility if anything were to happen. I put the cookies on a few different paper plates so that the pumpkins and black cats were separated; also, that way Jack and Jessica had their own plates and Hotch and I had a plate to share.

Jack started with the orange frosting. As I suspected, he gripped the tubing with both of his fists, and he started squeezing as much on as he could, not even trying to stay on the cookie. Hotch had to steal it away before he could waste all of it. When we had the orange frosting, I started carefully decorating the two pumpkin shaped cookies we had. I was more careful about staying within the lines and making them look perfect. Jack, on the other hand, now had the black frosting, and he was going at it again, so Hotch had to step over to keep a careful eye on him and help teach him how to properly coat the cookies. I handed the orange frosting to Jessica when I was done with it. Next, I did the black cats. Jack was already biting down on one of his over-frosted cookies, getting crumbs all over his shirt and lap. Looked like it was going to be another random laundry day. That boy was lucky I loved him.

“Here,” I said to Hotch, picking up one of the pumpkin cookies and holding it out for him. He leaned down, taking a handless bite. “Disgusting.”

Hotch smirked while chewing. He snaked his arm around my waist and pulled my side to his chest before kissing my cheek. I leaned away after a moment because of the rough touch of the crumbs on his lips. I laughed at him before dragging my thumb across his lips to brush away the crumbs and frosting. Hotch gently caught my thumb in his mouth and licked off the food. I froze, biting back a moan because we were still around Jack, but I knew that Hotch could see it in my eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” I gave him another bite.

The very next morning, we got a call that there was a case in Detroit that the BAU had been requested for. Two days from then was Halloween. We were supposed to go trick-or-treating with Jack that night, but we were never home in just one day. I mean, unless the Unsub was a complete idiot—or a kid, like what happened over two years ago when Elle left. The odds that we would be home on time to trick-or-treat with Jack was slim to none. It was going to break his heart. We were all so excited to be dressing up together. Since I had been going out with Hotch, we spent the past two Halloweens together. There was always a theme for the three of us. Jack liked it when our costumes all matched so that he could be closer with me and Hotch. This year’s theme was so good. Jack and I were the most excited about it, of course, whereas I think Hotch was just excited about being with Jack and seeing what I would look like in my costume. I didn’t blame him. It was a really good costume. I knew that he was going to like it, but that was only if we got back on time.

Suddenly, Jack walked into our bedroom. The smile he had been wearing on his face slowly disappeared as he saw our half-packed go-bags sitting on the bed. I froze. Glancing between my bag and Jack, I realized how obvious this looked, and that this news was going to absolutely crush him. My initial hope was that I could head down to his bedroom, sit down on his bed with him, and explain that we were heading out for another case, and that we would try to race back as soon as possible. I wanted to break the news gently. However, now that he had just stormed in on us frantically packing up enough stuff for three days, there was no chance Jack was going to listen to anything we had to say.

“Jack—” I tried to start explaining, but he immediately spun around and ran back down the hallway. I looked at Hotch with a quivering lip. “Aaron…”

“I’ve got it.” Hotch leaned in to kiss my cheek on his way out of the bedroom.

When he was gone, I kept packing, though now my pace had slowed because of the guilt dragging me down. Once I had all of my clothes and toiletries neatly organized in my bag, I turned to finish putting Hotch’s stuff away so that we could leave when he was done talking to Jack. The guilt was still there. In fact, I think it only got heavier as I folded Hotch’s pajamas. It wasn’t fair to leave Jack, and we both knew that, but we also had no choice in the matter, and I felt like he knew that deep down, but he still hated it—which was totally valid. Sometimes, I hated leaving. Actually, since Haley’s death, I always hated leaving Jack. If I didn’t love working at the BAU as much as I did, and if I wasn’t so sure that I would be miserable without my job, then I would have quit just to stay home with Jack. But I wouldn’t have liked being a house mom. To be fair, I don’t think Jack would have liked having me hover around all the time, though, either. I think he wanted us around more, but he still liked some of the freedom that came with having us out of the house. Someday, he was going to be grateful we were gone so often. Before we would know it, he was going to be in high school, and he was going to be pushing us out of the house so that he could host or attend parties. Until then, he just wanted us there. He just wanted his parents—and since he couldn’t have his mom, he wanted me there. Sometimes timing and fate just fucking sucked.

I zipped up our bags and lifted them off the bed. Sighing heavily, I carried them out of the bedroom, and down the hall to Jack’s room. I heard Hotch talking to him quietly. As I turned the corner, I saw Jack lying on his bed, cheek pressed against the pillow, his face smushed and pouting. Hotch had a hand rubbing soft, slow circles on Jack’s back, while the other one supported his crouched position by holding onto his knee. When they heard me enter, Jack looked up at me, but Hotch didn’t.

“We promise, buddy, we’ll try to be home on time for trick-or-treating,” Hotch said. Jack didn’t look convinced, though. “Come on, bud… Can we get a smile?”

“You never miss Halloween.”

“I missed Halloween a few years ago.”

“Yeah, so Mom took me trick-or-treating.”

Hotch and I froze. This wasn’t Jack’s first Halloween without his mom, but it was the first Halloween we were celebrating with her. Since it was about this time last year that we were still mourning her death, none of us were exactly racing to go trick-or-treating. But we had been doing well in the year or so since then. Jack’s therapy was really helping him cope and understand what happened to him and his mom. Hotch was still going to therapy, too. Despite his protests about going and his insistence that he didn’t need it anymore, I still drove him every Tuesday and Thursday to meet with a Bureau therapist that understood the full extent of what happened, and I sat just outside the door the entire time to make sure Hotch wouldn’t try to escape early. We were doing well. Really well.

Still, though, it was in moments like this when Jack would bring up his mom and how she would miss something special to us that we would be caught off guard. He didn’t understand, of course. All he knew was that he mentioned his mom and the two of us would become speechless. He wasn’t old enough to understand yet that we didn’t know how to navigate handling Haley’s death and raising a five year old kid who had countless questions. He wanted to know why on Earth we would potentially be leaving him alone on Halloween night when we promised we would be there. He wanted to know why we weren’t doing more now that his mom was gone. And the worst part was, neither Hotch nor I had an answer for Jack. We just had to try and hold onto our promise that we would be back in time to take him trick-or-treating, and that he wouldn’t be without a parent this time of year. I didn’t care if I would have to leave the case early. If it meant getting back to my little man to make sure he was alright, I was going to do whatever it took.

I sat on the edge of his bed and pushed his hair back. “We’ll be here. I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” I reached out to hug him, and he let me, even going as far to hug me back with a little more force than I was expecting. “I love you, little man.”

“I love you, too.”

I kissed his temple before pulling away to let Hotch hug him. When we had said our goodbyes, and I felt somewhat reassured that Jack was alright with us leaving, we got in the car and started driving to Quantico.

We were headed to Detroit—which was absolute chaos that time of year. The local PD had noticed a three year trend in the days leading up to Halloween where he was only killing for those three days, and then he would disappear. At first, they thought it was nothing. However, last night, they had another case matching the last two years exactly. By then, it was clear to them that they needed a helping hand with this case, hence why we were being called in at the last minute; and hence why we were already on the jet and not meeting in the boardroom. With one night gone, there were only two nights left before the Unsub would disappear. If we didn’t catch him before then, we would have to wait another year. There was no fucking way I was going to let that happen. I wasn’t going to miss this year’s Halloween and next year’s Halloween with my son because of some asshole in Michigan, of all places. This Unsub who was burning his victims alive would have hell to pay if I broke my little man’s heart two years in a row.

Yeah, this guy, in all of his psychotic glory, was going out of his way to burn three victims over the span of three days, then proceeded to dump them all in random places around the city. Unfortunately for him, the first last night got a little out of hand, so before he could hide the body, the fire department was already made aware of the burning abandoned warehouse, and they were on their way. So, the Unsub left the body and ran.

By the time we were landing, Hotch had already dispersed assignments. Hotch, Rossi, Emily, Spencer, and JJ were all headed to the precinct to start the profile since we were in a rush, and in the meantime, Morgan and I were headed to the crime scene to get a look at what happened for ourselves. The local fire department—the ones who called us in—had done their best examining the scene on their own, but they were trained to look for human interference in dangerous fires. We had a vastly different skill set. Knowing that we were dealing with a serial killer gave us the upper hand since we knew what we were dealing with, but the FD just didn’t get that since it wasn’t their job.

As we pulled up to the warehouse where the most recent crime scene had been discovered, it suddenly made sense to us why he had chosen this place. Out of the entire city, this area was extremely neglected. It was quiet, and at night it was probably dark, and the seclusion meant that no one could stop him. That was… unless someone happened to be passing by and saw the fire. Unfortunately for him, someone did pass by and call 9-1-1 for that very reason, ruining his plans—whatever they were. We knew that we would learn more inside.

“Hello,” a man standing in the doorway of the warehouse said to us, waving in our direction as we got out of the car. He approached us. “Al Garner with the Detroit Fire Department.” Morgan shook his hand first while introducing us. I smiled and shook his hand. “I’ll be showing you guys around inside.”

As we started walking, Morgan asked, “Do you guys get a lot of fires this time a year?”

“When I first started working for the DFD, we had about 600 fires during the three days leading up to Devil’s Night. Nowadays, people are more concerned with drinking themselves to death than lighting fires. As of last night, we’re only down to 118.” He pointed to the door, “Our city-wide Neighborhood Watch program has really helped. We’re shorthanded down at the DFD, so volunteers really make or break it.”

I looked at Morgan, sharing a look that said, “Volunteers? People willing to thrust themselves into the investigations. Great.” So, I asked Al, “How many volunteers do you guys have now?”

He was leading us through the halls inside of the warehouse. “A thousand.”

“A thousand people?”

“They’re spread out all over the city. One of the volunteers actually called in this fire last night.”

“We’ll need to talk to them,”

“I’ll arrange for that.”

“And we’ll need the roster for all of your volunteers,” Morgan said.

“Whatever you guys need. But, do you guys really think that he’s one of them?” he asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

I shrugged. “We can’t rule anything out just yet.”

Really, though, the likelihood was ridiculously high. I could remember that the last big arson case we worked on was years ago. It always stuck out to me because Hotch and I had only just started dating, and somehow, the case got personal for him because the Unsub was killing families in their own homes, and our main suspect was a family man—a father who was just trying to do his best… Like Hotch. At the time, I didn’t know how to comfort him with that stuff. I knew that he was struggling to sit in that hospital room with the one victim who had survived the attack, and I knew that he was trying to clear this guy’s name, even though the evidence was stacked against him. In the end, though, Hotch was right. As always.

Our Unsub turned out to be an eco-radical that believed that the best way to create change and to get revenge on people for mistreating the Earth was by setting people on fire. It was a twisted way of thinking. But, then again, most sociopaths didn’t make sense, anyhow. But when our suspect found out who the real Unsub was—that he was a man who had been trying to help the FBI find whoever was really responsible, he went to end it once and for all.

I would never forget watching Gideon and Morgan as they held a distraught Hotch back. He was screaming and pushing, begging that we do something to help the innocent man trapped inside the burning building. But there was nothing we could do. That was the outcome of what happened when two people injected themselves into an investigation that they were emotionally connected to. Hotch had to watch another father die, and it killed him. And this was before Foyet—long before Foyet. There were no concerns that Hotch wouldn’t be able to protect his own family. He had just grown so close to that man during the investigation, connecting about their sons, their wives, and even their abusive fathers.

So, when it came to arson cases like these, I was wary now of “volunteers” that were there to help us with the investigation. I worried even more about Hotch. Now that Haley was gone—which was still a fresh wound thirteen months later—he was vulnerable to his empathy. He was a good man who cared a lot for other people, and he spent his entire life trying to save and protect strangers for that very reason, but he also knew that he couldn’t save everyone. He wanted to. Out of everyone in the world, he wanted to save the one person he should have always been there to protect, but… he failed… I hated admitting that. But he did. We both recognized that he failed to save Haley. However, he was never going to fail again, that much I knew. He was going to do whatever it took to protect me, Jack, and the rest of the world. Over the next two days, if we were to meet anyone with any type of tragic backstory, I knew that Hotch would break. There was just too much overlap between that old arson case and the sting of Haley’s death.

This crime scene, in particular, was in an abandoned engine factory, according to Al. That wasn’t uncommon in Detroit. Half of the city was filled with places just like this that had been ignored by companies once they moved onto bigger and better things, leaving a desolate building for the locals to maintain or pay to have demolished, which they obviously didn’t have the money for. But that was what attracted people like our Unsubs to them. With no one around, they were the perfect grounds for crimes and squatting. Druggies, homeless people, criminals, and high school kids all sought out freedom in building like these. But that just made our jobs that much harder.

The victim had been tied to a pole on top of a pyre in the middle of the room. Leading from the door to the pyre were drag tracks, a mixture of blood, dirt, gasoline, and soot. The only concern I had about that was that it was clear that the Unsub had dragged the victim in through the door we entered in, too, but the oil and soot told us that he also stood there while watching the victim burn. That was what didn’t make sense. In that massive warehouse, there were hundreds of better places to stand and watch it if he were a Sadist.

“How fast did it take for responders to get onto the scene?” I asked the Fire Department Chief.

“Less than five minutes.”

“So, for three years in a row, this guy has been able to uphold a pattern, despite the DFD and the local Neighborhood Watch program lurking around, keeping an eye out for guys just like him. How does he get away with that?”

Morgan shrugged. “Well, if he’s one of them, it’s easy to ensure no one comes in his area.”

“Yeah… But, then, how did he not know that there was a witness around? And why doesn’t it say that anyone else on the roster should have been in this area?”

“Because he’s not one of them.”

I nodded. “Exactly. There has to be another way that he can keep track of the fire department’s response times.”

Morgan stayed silent as he considered and continued circling the pyre. When a thought struck him, he looked over at me. “A police radio scanner.” He stopped. “They all share the same form of communication so that the police, firefighters, and paramedics can arrive on scene as fast as possible. If he hears on the scanner that the fire has already been called in, he stops watching, turns, and leaves as fast as he can. He’s gone before the firefighters are in the firetruck.”

“And as long as he stays in his safety zone, Rivertown,” I said, referencing where we were standing and where all of the other bodies had been found, “he knows how fast he needs to be.”

“This is worse than we thought…”

I nodded an agreement.

While we were gone, Reid and Hotch had been reviewing victimology, trying to find something that could connect all seven victims so far in the hopes of leading us straight to the Unsub. However, they were nose down in papers when we walked in. Even as Morgan and I sat down across from them, waiting to be caught up to date, Hotch and Reid kept reading and talking amongst themselves. And then Reid perked up with eureka.

“I couldn’t find any overlap, per say,” he began explaining to the four of us, “but I think I might have something interesting here.” He opened a file up to an 180 degree angle, then set it down in the middle of the boardroom table so that we could all see. “Tommy Proctor, our first victim, was a convicted felon. He was buried, unlike the other victims, which meant that our Unsub likely knew him.”

“Or, he could have just felt remorse since it was his first kill,” I countered.

That was how Reid and I always were. We pushed back on each other’s ideas and wisdom because it kept us on our toes, and it was really the only kinds of interactions we had at all. Since Haley’s death, we hadn’t been as witty with each other. I think he was scared to push back against me, especially since the team had been turning to me more while Hotch was still out of the office and there needed to be a smooth transition of power. I think he was also scared of breaking me. When Tobias Hankle took him, I remember the worry that was knotting in the pit of my stomach because we couldn’t afford to lose our boy genius… and, in some odd way, I could tell that Reid felt the same way about me and Hotch during the Foyet chaos. But now we were getting back into a rhythm. By pushing back against him, it was my way of telling him that I liked how we used to interact, and that he could give me shit for not knowing what I was talking about sometimes, or if I missed something obvious—since noticing small things quickly was supposed to be my thing.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Reid argued directly at me. “The autopsy report shows that there were multiple botched attempts to burn Proctor, which means that—”

“The Unsub didn’t know how difficult it is to burn a body.”

Reid grinned slightly at our scrimmage. “Precisely.”

The door suddenly opened, Rossi entering as fast as he could, his suit jacket flying behind him like a cape. Emily was following just behind him. She closed the door as Rossi continued pacing while thinking over-time. “So, I just finished talking to the wife of last night’s victim. During her comprehensive, she recalls seeing the Unsub. He’s a tall, black, mid-twenty year old guy with a burn on his face.

“Well, that gives us a stressor,” I said, relaxing back in my seat.

“And the M.O. makes a lot more sense now,” Reid said.

Hotch agreed. “Yeah, but our Unsub probably wasn’t burned at a stake. There are hundreds of burn victims a year—”

“Thousands, actually.”

“Thousands,” Hotch corrected himself with a scoff. “The information helps, but it doesn’t give us a name. How are we supposed to narrow it down?”

“What if Reid and I were wrong?” I asked. I waited for someone else to say something—especially Reid—but everyone just stared at me blankly; so, I continued, “What if he did know how hard it is to burn a body, but the botched burns were actually his way of torturing Tommy Proctor, and then he actually did bury him because it was personal.”

Taking all of our different theories, we all split up to separate sides of the boardroom to start brainstorming. There was a piece here that we were missing. I wasn’t sure what it was, and Emily didn’t seem to understand either while she was working with me. We were trying to make the remorse theory work. Even though all of the other scenes didn’t show any sign of remorse at face value, I knew I could eventually see it if I just went through every single piece of evidence. Again, I had to prove to myself and the team that I wasn’t completely worthless. When my mind was too busy with other things, it was impossible for me to pull through with my “thing” as the one person who could just look at things and then immediately recognize them and profile them, and I knew that it was damn near impossible because every time I saw the word “Halloween”, I thought about how Jack was sitting at home, waiting and hoping that we would be back on time to take him trick-or-treating.

And then it suddenly hit me.

I stood quickly, rushing to gather up all of the files in front of me and order them so that I could see a similarity that I was catching onto. Reid said that he didn’t see any connections, but there was something he always overlooked. Relationships. He sucked at recognizing how important relationships were to people—whether they were romantic, familial, or platonic. That was his one blind spot because he never had a connection like that before with anyone who mattered, except for his mother. I mean, he had used people as surrogates, but they all left him, so he had since failed to see how people could hold their connection to someone over all else when he had always been put second to other things or other people. But not me and Hotch. He and I were everything to each other, and Jack was our everything. Period. We held those connections more dearly than anything else. It was possible that the Unsub felt the same way.

Everyone stopped what they were working on in order to watch me closely. When I found what I was looking for, though, I took a step back, letting it settle in my mind before I decided to tell them. Each of the victims had been taken in front of a loved one. A partner, a child, even a sibling. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. It was easier to take someone when they were isolated to ensure that there were no witnesses, and that no one could stop you. But this Unsub specifically chose people who were with someone who meant everything to them. This was all a part of his M.O. His ritual included taking someone from their loved one.

“He was burned in front of someone he loved…” I mumbled. Hotch cocked a brow at me. “He’s taking his victims in front of people,” I explained turning the files so that the team could see the connection I made. Reid furrowed his brows in confusion. I could tell that he didn’t understand how it was that he overlooked something as simple as that. I shook off a smirk. “He—”

Hotch’s phone started ringing. As he answered, his face immediately fell. The call was quick, barely even giving him a chance to thank the person reaching out to him. “There’s been another abduction,” Hotch told us.

“How do we know that it’s our guy?” Rossi inquired.

“Because his daughter told the responding officers that a monster took her dad.”

So, I was right… I wish I hadn’t hit the nail on the head so perfectly like that—or at least I wished I would have seen it sooner, because maybe that girl would still be with her father instead of asking why this happened to him.

“Garcia’s sending the police report to us now,” Hotch continued, our phones buzzing just on time. We all looked down to review what the girl had told the officers.

Christopher Edwards, thirty-five, white, single father, lived in the suburbs. Seemingly normal life. Actually, his life, on paper, appeared to be perfect, except for the fact that his wife left him and his daughter three years ago, shortly after she gave birth. Since then, he had to up his game in order to support his family, so he became a local contractor in Rivertown… our Unsub’s safe hunting grounds. He was burning all of the bodies in that area, which meant that area was extremely important to him—in fact, it could have been where he was burned in the first place. All of this could be revenge for what happened to him.

“Garcia,” I said after Morgan got her on the phone for all of us, “Christopher Edwards, what subcontractors did he work with?”

She scoffed. “The list is huge. Do you have any more parameters?”

“Anything that requires fire.”

“Cross reference that with anyone who’s part of the volunteer neighborhood watch, baby girl,” Morgan said. I nodded an agreement since it was a good idea. As we had suspected earlier while down at the warehouse, he was probably inserting himself into the investigation by staying on the watch.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, baby girl, there’s gotta be something.”

“Okay, give me a second. Let me switch some things around here, and maybe I’ll find a name buried in here somewhere—Ah! I’m amazing! His name is Kaman Scott.”

“How are you so sure?” Emily asked.

“Because, growing up, Kaman Scott was on track to practically be the bad boy turned convict. His family was poor, his education fell through, and he had been arrested multiple times in his teenage years. Only, in 2004, something happened to make him clean up his act and get his life together. After that change, there’s no sign of bad behavior. Actually, he’s the poster boy for a guy just trying to make it in an unfair world.”

“Maybe that’s when he met someone,” Rossi theorized. “That introduction gave him a reason to become a better person. What normally does that?” he asked rhetorically.

“Love,” Hotch answered, anyhow.

“But how do you go from changing your life in 2004 for someone you love to killing three people every year in 2009?” Morgan asked.

“A breakup.”

“Okay. So, then, where did the burn come from?”

“The breakup was probably a result of the burn. So, we need to look for something that happened in Kaman’s life—”

“Already found it,” Garcia interrupted. “In 2005, Kaman and his first victim, Tommy Proctor, were in a car accident, which resulted in Kaman’s car blowing up.”

“There’s the revenge,” Rossi said.

“How come he was stagnant between 2005 and 2009?” I asked.

Garcia’s keyboard clacked into the microphone of the call for a moment. “According to the accident report, Tommy walked away without a scratch, but Kaman was put into a coma. While he was out of it, he lost his job, his home—Oh! Oh, my! His landlord was Tony Torrell—the most recent victim.”

“Does Kaman have any family or friends that we could talk to?”

“No… But I just sent you guys his address.”

Hotch looked between me and Morgan. “You guys go check it out.” We nodded and started making our way out. Hotch grabbed my wrist before I could walk past him. “Be careful.”

I smiled and nodded, though I wanted to lean down to kiss him more than anything in the world. “I will.” I would just have to kiss him later.

That was all I could think on our drive to Kaman Scott’s house, though. That one kiss. Getting home to Jack and getting time alone with Hotch was all I needed in life nowadays. Holding onto that hope, knowing that they loved me, and I loved them, and holding my breath until I was at home with them again was what pushed me through every case. I suddenly understood what it was that my parents were always racing home for. My mom traveled the world for the CIA, working on all of these covert operations that we could never have any information about, which made growing up hard; but when she would come, she would set everything to the side just to be with my dad, me, and Elle. My dad wasn’t gone as often. Since he worked at the Academy, there were times when he was called away to do certain things, but he was usually more hands on with me and Elle. In a way, I supposed Hotch was like my mother, and Haley was like my dad. Only, now, Jack didn’t have someone who was with him all of the time—or at least the majority of the time. Yeah, Jessica was a rockstar for offering to help around with Jack whenever we were out of town, but… Jack needed someone there with him… But it couldn’t be me or Hotch. As bad as it sounded, we couldn’t live without our jobs.

When Morgan and I arrived at Kaman’s apartment, we didn’t even bother putting on vests. Since the report had come in that another person had gone missing, we knew that he would be all the way in Rivertown, completing his ritual while the team was searching for him there and Morgan and I were putting the pieces together at the apartment as much as we could. But the door was locked. On the drive over, Hotch had gotten a judge to sign a warrant, which meant that we could go in without an invitation. So, Morgan took a step back, then kicked the door in.

As we hurried inside, I tried to flip on a light switch since it was so dark, but the lights just wouldn’t turn on. I huffed. No light, no mirrors, no windows… It was going to be impossible to navigate our way around. The best we could do was to grab our flashlights and start using them to find clues as to who Kaman Scott was, where he was, and who his next victim was going to be. If we couldn’t stop this murder, we could at least stop the next one.

“Look at this,” Morgan finally said. I made my way around the room to meet up with him in a corner where he saw a collection of gas cans cluttered together. And they were all full. “He’s prepared.”

I shook my head at how ridiculous this was. There was no way for him to see out into the world—or more specifically, no way for the world to see him. There was nothing personal in his apartment. No pictures, décor, even DVDS. There was nothing in there that told us who Kaman Scott was as a person, and not just an Unsub. He was human at one point, right? He had lived a life with someone that made him happy, and yet there wasn’t a single hint of her anywhere. Even if they broke up as a result of his car crash, his obsession should have still been obvious. It was curious that he was hiding it so well.

And then, as if it were a miracle or Morgan could read my mind, he said, “Greenaway.” I turned to him again to see that he had just flipped Kaman’s mattress to find a diary hidden underneath. “There’s his obsession.” He pointed to the scrapbook of pages that were dedicated to whichever girl it was that Kaman had clearly been dating before his accident. “There’s no name in her.”

“He was covering his tracks.”

“We profiled him as organized, but this is a little much, don’t you think?”

“Not really. If he really wanted to keep her all to himself, he might go to extra lengths to make sure no one can find her.”

“Yeah, well, I know someone who can,” he teased, digging for his phone in his back pocket.

I smirked at how he was off to go call his “baby girl” to help us find whoever it was that Kaman was so obsessed with. Using facial recognition, she would be able to deduce it within minutes—maybe even seconds. She was good like that. Since her attack nearly two years ago, we had all been trying to appreciate her more since what she did was incredibly important to our work, and without her, we would be struggling to close cases as effortlessly as we were.

“We have a problem,” Morgan said, catching my attention. “Hotch and Chief Garner just found the most recent victim’s body dumped in Rivertown.”

“So, he’s on his endgame.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Garcia said over the phone, “I can’t find her. She’s not showing up in my database.”

“How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“And we really don’t have time to figure out why,” Hotch said on the call, too. “Garcia, is there anything recognizable in the photos to help give us a lead? Maybe a home address, school address, work—”

“Jay-Mo’s diner.”

“What?” I questioned.

“Jay-Mo’s diner,” she repeated. “It’s in the background of all of the photos.”

Hotch asked Chief Garner if he had ever heard of Jay-Mo’s, to which the fireman agreed. “We’ll head there now,” Hotch said.

“And we’ll meet you there so that we can regroup,” Morgan offered. It was a good idea, and it was a plan that seemed sufficient enough to Hotch so that he could hang up on us.

As we were pulling up to the diner, I could see a hint of red and orange hues that came from a roaring blaze inside. The closer we got, the more I could see it growing. The windows suddenly burst open. Just as Morgan put the car in park, I saw Hotch’s SUV parked on the curb just ahead, the driver’s side door completely open. My heart sped up. The realization dawned on me the moment I saw two shadows of men moving about inside the diner.

“No—” I struggled to get my seatbelt off. My wrist was still stuck against the buckle when I opened the door and started stumbling out of the car in an attempt to get to the diner and run inside to help Hotch. “Fuck. Come on.” I pulled against the seatbelt until it released me. “Hotch!” I shrieked, jumping forward to run to him. Morgan caught me in his arms, though, and held me back. “Hotch!” I clawed at Morgan’s grip. “Aaron!” The door to the diner opened up, and I saw Hotch stumbling out while carrying someone along. “Aaron!” I kicked Morgan’s ankle to get him to release me, but all he did was groan and constrict his arms around my waist until I couldn’t move. And then the diner blew up. “No!” I cried as Hotch and the man he was helping along flew forward onto their stomachs.

In his state of shock, Morgan released me. The second my feet were back on the ground, I started racing towards the sidewalk outside of the burning building, where Hotch and the man were groaning and writhing in pain. As I fell to my feet, Hotch looked up at me. I put my hands on his face. He was blinking dramatically, and looking around blindly, just like he did in New York. I told him to stay still. Morgan came running up to check on the man Hotch pulled out of the diner. While he called out for the paramedics, I kept my hold on Hotch’s face, trying to calm him down.

“I’m fine…” he groaned.

“Your ears—”

“They’re not ringing.”

“Your back—”

“I’m fine, Y/N. I swear. I’m not lying.”

I pressed my palms to his cheeks a little harder to keep him steady as I searched his eyes and body language for any of his tells. He was telling the truth. “Don’t ever do that again, Aaron Hotchner. I mean it. Don’t ever scare me like that again, so help me—”

He sat up and kissed me. “I’m okay.”

“Please stop doing this to me,” I whispered calmly. “Please.”

He groaned as he started pushing himself to his feet so that we could move out of the way for the paramedics that were trying to attend to the man Hotch pulled out. We glanced over to see Morgan holding a gash on his leg together until an EMT stepped in to trade places with him, so Morgan stumbled over to stand with us, too.

I was still holding onto Hotch. Ensuring that he was really okay, and not just lying to me about his health, like he had a tendency to do, was my top priority. There were medics helping the man he dragged out. Morgan wasn’t hurt. I was okay. Now, all I needed to be sure of was Hotch. He was an asshole when it came to his own health and safety. He always did everything in his power to protect those around him, and to make sure that they were alright; but he never let anyone show him the same courtesy. That was, unless I was babying him. But I didn’t want to baby him. I wanted to trust that for once—since Haley, at least—he could see that I needed to know immediately when something was wrong, and I needed to know the full extent of whatever was wrong with him whenever something bad happened. I just couldn’t afford to lose him like he lost Haley. I couldn’t fucking do it. In fact, I couldn’t even think about it. I didn’t want to imagine what could have happened if he had wasted another few seconds while saving that man in that diner. As noble as it was, it was ridiculously foolish. What was I supposed to do if he died? Raise Jack on my own? How? How was I supposed to do that without him? How was Jack supposed to grow up without a mom and a dad? Fuck Hotch for not thinking that through. Fuck him—

And then I flung my arms around his neck.

“I mean it, Aaron…” I mumbled into his neck.

As he wrapped his arms around my waist and hid his face in the crook of my neck, too, he whispered, “I couldn’t let him die in there.”

“And I couldn’t let you die in there, either.” I kissed his cheek. “We promised we would be home on time to take him trick-or-treating… Don’t make me a liar.”

Hotch turned to kiss my lips. “I’m sorry, baby.”

It was a little overdramatic to be all over each other and talking like that, but seeing him risk his life like that could only remind me of Haley. Every single danger that was thrown in our path just reminded me of her. It was like flashes. Victims, Unsubs, Hotch at work, even Jack getting pushed around at soccer… I couldn’t shake it. It was like a bad taste in my mouth. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get over it. I thought I was doing better. In fact, I knew I was getting better. It had been thirteen months since I found her on our carpet like that. Thirteen months should have been long enough. Yet, it wasn’t. The only comfort I had was holding him in my arms— alive. It wasn’t like watching him hold Haley’s dead body in his arms. He was alive. He was okay.

“Hotch!” Morgan called, running over to the man on the ground. “He’s saying something.”

We parted from our hug so that Hotch could fall to his knees beside the victim and hold his hand as he tried to croak something into Hotch’s ear. “Tra—” he tried to say. “T—” He was just too weak from the throw of the explosion. “Trac… Tracy…”

“Tracy?” Morgan clarified.

“Yes…”

“Who’s Tracy?” Hotch asked.

“Tracy…”

“Who is that?”

“Tracy…”

“Sir, you have to move again,” one of the paramedics insisted.

So, we had gone to the diner with the lead that Kaman’s girlfriend used to go there all the time. It was a far-fetched lead, and we weren’t at all sure if it would pan out, but we had to try, and it was a good thing we did because we managed to save a man’s life in the process. But the girlfriend… The owner had given us a name: Tracy. We knew that the Unsub wasn’t a woman, so the owner of the diner must have known what we were there and who it was we wanted to know about. Kaman’s girlfriend’s name was Tracy. That was the logical explanation. The only question now was… Tracy who? And how were we supposed to find her?

I grabbed my phone and dialed Garcia’s number. “Garcia—”

“Is Hotch okay? He told me he was heading to the diner, and he told me he was heading in while we were on the phone, but all I heard was an explosion before it cut out—”

“He’s fine, Garcia. I promise.”

I heard her sigh with relief. “Thank Heavens.”

“I need you to look at the family that owns this diner. Is the owner of Jay-Mo’s related to a Tracy?”

“Lemme look…” she mumbled while typing. “Oh—Yeah. Tracy Anderson. She lives in Ohio—”

“No, she would be nearby. Where do her parents live?”

“Indian Village. It’s five miles from where you are.”

I hadn’t even realized that Hotch was listening to the call because I had put it on speaker in order to fidget with texting Emily everything I was learning. Before I could do or say anything, Hotch was getting in his black SUV again, this time dragging the DFD Chief with him.

“God fucking dammit,” I cursed under my breath. The chief probably knew the best way to get there and probably where the Andersons lived if the diner really was all that, as he said it was. That gave Hotch the upper hand. “Garcia, we need the address. The whole team does.”

“Already sent.”

My phone buzzed just as she said it. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Be safe.”

Morgan and I hurried back to our car, racing to catch up to Hotch as dispatch put out the address to the rest of the police and fire forces. Since the drive was short and practically past the sheriff’s department, we were leading a line of speeding vehicles with lights and sirens. We had the whole cavalry. It was going to be okay.

And then the son of a bitch had to say the one thing I absolutely didn’t want to hear just then. “Everyone needs to stand down,” Hotch whispered into his comm. I cocked a brow. What the fuck was he talking about? Stand down? Why? “I just need one guy from SWAT, that’s all.”

Morgan started coming to a slow and steady stop, reaching to turn off the lights and sirens, just like all of the other cars around us were doing. I sat up straight. What the fuck was he doing? No! This wasn’t right. We had to go help Hotch because he promised me that he wouldn’t keep doing this to me. I told him that he couldn’t keep putting himself in harm’s way just for a case when our little man was waiting at home for him—when our family just couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. Ever.

“Morgan,” I said urgently, “go.”

“No.” He turned off the car.

I turned to open the car door, but he locked it and put the child locks on. My face fell. “Derek Morgan, let me out—”

“Hotch gave us orders.”

My heart started pounding in my chest. I glanced out the side window, pressing my forehead against the cold window, watching as it started to rain. I’d never felt trapped like this before. This wasn’t even that dramatic compared to that day when Foyet took Haley from us; yet I found that my heart was so heavy with worry that night. At least someone had been trying to help the day Haley died. We were all in a car together, racing there as fast as we could, trying to beat Foyet before he could kill Jack and Hotch, too. The worry I had about not knowing if Hotch was okay or not was the same exact worry I had coursing through my veins when I thought that phone call was the last time I would ever get to tell him that I loved him, and that I would end up finding all three of them dead in our house.

“Y/N, this is just another day on the job. Remember what that was like?” Morgan asked me quietly. “The two of you always used to run into stupid shit like this because that’s part of the job, and that’s part of the dumb fucking thoughts you two always have running in your heads that it’s better if one of you go down than someone else on the team. So, now, you get to sit here and listen to his orders and worry about him the same way we always had to listen and worry about you guys.”

“I hate you.”

“Get in line,” he teased.

To be fair, when I did “stupid shit like this”, I wasn’t responsible for a son. I mean… I was, but… It was different because Jack had Hotch and Haley if something ever happened to me. But now it was just me and Hotch. And, in some weird way, I was still okay with Jack losing me over Hotch, because at least he would still have his dad—his own flesh and blood. If it were me in Hotch’s shoes in that moment, telling the team to stay back, I would’ve been comforted by the fact that Jack wouldn’t be alone still. But if Hotch died… That felt different. After everything, neither Jack nor I would know how to live like that.

“Sunshine, we’re going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.”

“We shouldn’t have let him become the unit chief again so soon—”

“It’s been over a year,” Morgan tried to explain to me.

I scoffed. “I know how long it’s been… I think about it every day…”

Morgan stayed quiet. Neither of us knew what to say now. I had practically snapped at him, though I hadn’t meant it, and I was sure he was aware of that. It still hurt, though. It hurt me, too. But I was so drained by my worry and running around, chasing after Hotch every time he went off to do “stupid shit like this”. We couldn’t afford to do this anymore. I knew that neither of us were going to quit the FBI because that just wasn’t like us, and we were always unhappy when we weren’t in the field; but I was getting tired of this. Things had to have a happy upturn sooner than later. Something good needed to happen soon. If we were cursed to always be upset like this, it was going to be the death of me.

“We’re clear in here,” Hotch said over the comm.

Within an instant, Morgan turned the car back on and started driving, meanwhile I worked to get the lights and sirens back on. The parade of black SUVs and police squad cars followed suit, taking our lead as we continued around the corner and towards the house. The DFD Chief was standing on the driveway, waving us over. As we pulled up onto the curb, I unlocked the car and jumped out, grabbing ahold of my gun, which was holstered on my hip, and my handcuffs, which were clipped onto my back—a trick Elle taught Morgan, which he then taught me.

Inside, Hotch was helping to free an old man and woman who were tied to the dining room table. Kaman, our Unsub, was on his knees, hugging a little boy as his mother stood close by. I slowed and furrowed my brows. Why hadn’t Hotch arrested Kaman yet? Why was he— Oh. I realized quickly what the situation was, so I released my hold on my gun and my handcuffs so that I could bar anyone else from entering until Hotch gave the go ahead, because there was no way I was going to arrest a father in front of his own son. I couldn’t imagine how that would feel. If someone arrested Hotch in front of Jack, I would have been furious, but upset because I would never in a million years want Jack to have to witness something like that. So, we were going to wait until the opportune moment.

Just as Hotch finished freeing the man and woman, he pushed himself to his feet and backed up towards me. “Go ahead,” he whispered to me.

I nodded, understanding that he wouldn’t want to make the arrest at all. So, I carefully approached Kaman and his family, leaning in to whisper into Tracy’s ear that it would be best if he took her son outside for a minute. She nodded. Kaman was pried away from his son, reaching out uselessly for another touch or interaction that wouldn’t come. When his son was gone, his mother having carried him out in her arms, I grabbed my handcuffs again, this time flashing them in front of Kaman so he knew what was happening; then, as I cuffed him, I recited the Miranda Rights for him, all while he was silent. I brought him to his feet when he was secured. An officer was then sent in to retrieve Kaman and take him outside.

Telling by the look on Hotch’s face, I knew that he didn’t want to spend another second in that house, but he wasn’t going to leave as long as I was in there either. So, I started walking out. As I strode past him, I made a gesture with my head for him to follow me outside without saying anything. He did.

When we were on the driveway with the rest of the team and the platoon of police that had come with us, I crossed my arms and watched as Kaman was led through the crowd. Morgan was standing by the car, watching us, a small smirk on his face that said: “I told you it would be okay. It’s always okay.” And I damn near wanted to smack that smirk away.

“You okay?” I asked Hotch worriedly.

He nodded. “Yeah. I just…” He turned over his shoulder to see the officers putting Kaman in the squad car. “Him and his son… They reminded me…” He sighed when Kaman’s son pressed his hands against the window of the squad car so that he could see his dad again.

“They reminded you of Jack?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Baby,” I cooed, grabbing his hand. I kissed his knuckles gently like he would always do with me when he was bored or wanted to comfort me. “Let’s go home.”

As I opened the door, Hotch pinched my hip, making me yelp playfully before kissing him. We both froze when we saw Jessica standing there, her arms crossed over her chest, a slight smile hiding by her faux anger. I bit my lip and laughed. It felt like I had just been caught bringing a boy home by my mother. The way she was staring at us disapprovingly, tapping her foot against the wood floor, but still somewhat happy to see me, and to see me happy. Actually, if anything, it felt like being caught by Elle.

“You guys are back early,” Jessica noted with a slight uptick in her voice, signaling that she was ecstatic about our sudden appearance. Her and Jack must have been way too skeptical about us coming back on time. “He’s doing homework upstairs.”

“On Halloween?” I questioned.

“He didn’t think you guys were coming, and he said he didn’t want to go trick-or-treating with me.”

And then we heard the pattering of little feet overhead. Jack must have seen our car pulling into the driveway because he was running as fast as he could down the hallway upstairs, racing for the steps, at which point, we heard him jumping down the steps. He knew he wasn’t supposed to run in the house. It was a bad habit, and we didn’t need him putting holes in the walls because he would crash into something or someone. But I would let it slide this one time. I could overlook him running in the house simply for the sake of getting to see him sooner.

I gasped playfully, “Look who it is!” Jack kept running at me, his arms quickly widening out so that I could brace my hands under his shoulders and lift him up into my arms. I hugged him close to my chest and kissed his cheeks over and over again. “It’s my little man!” I smacked one last kiss on his cheek. “Are you ready to trick-or-treat?” Jack nodded. I squeezed him tight. “Go get into your costume, then, okay?”

Jack slid out of my arms. After taking Jessica’s hand, the two of them ran upstairs together to help him get into his costume. Our theme this year was superheroes. Jack was on a kick with Spider-Man instead of Superman these days, so his dream since we started talking about what he was going to dress up as was to be Spider-Man. When he decided on superheroes, Hotch and I had to start figuring out what we were going to do. Hotch got lazy by digging into his closet to find an old t-shirt he had with Superman’s logo on it. He decided that he was going to pair that with a pair of jeans and call it a day. Meanwhile, I was dressing up as Wonder Woman—which I took deadly seriously by going out to find a real, good quality costume that fit me. It had a tight red top, low cut gold collar, short blue skirt, red shin and wrist guards, gold headband, and— my favorite part—the gold whip that attached to my skirt.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting my skirt to make sure it was lying flat, I could hear Hotch shuffling around the room to finish getting ready himself. “How do I look?” I asked.

Hotch turned to me, and I started spinning in a slow circle so that he could get a good look at me. His arms unfolded from in front of his chest, his mouth fell agape, and his eyes brightened. “You look…” he bit his lip, “so hot.” I laughed and shook my head at him. “Fuck,” he growled under his breath, stepping closer to me. His hands grabbed my hips and yanked me towards him before he kissed me roughly. “I love you,” he mumbled against my lips.

“I love you, too,” I responded, putting my hands on his shoulders, and sliding them up slowly to hold his face. “The Superman look is good for you.” I giggled as we parted.

“Do we have to go out or can we just lock the door and use this whip?” he asked me, yanking on the gold rope rolled up on my hip.

I rolled my eyes at him and pried his hands away. “It’s part of my costume, don’t touch.”

Hotch squinted and pulled me back towards him again. “It would look so good around your wrists, though…” He leaned in to kiss me.

“Okay, Dad, I’m ready,” Jack said, running down the hall. Hotch and I turned to face the door, but his hands didn’t leave my hips quite yet. I tilted my head to the side and rested it on Hotch’s shoulder. Jack stepped into our bedroom, dressed in a small, tailored suit, sleek black dress shoes, and one of Hotch’s ties hanging loosely around his neck. Jessica came in, too, staying just a few steps behind Jack. “Do you like it?”

Hotch raised a brow. “What happened to Spider-Man, kiddo? I thought we were all supposed to be superheroes.”

“Spider-Man isn’t a superhero.”

“He’s not?”

Jack shook his head. “No.”

“Okay,” Hotch played along, “I give up. Who are you supposed to be?”

Jessica was grinning from the doorway, and a smile was creeping onto my face as I realized just how oblivious Hotch was to his son’s love. Jack loved Hotch more than anything in the world. I had been saying it since I first met them; Jack saw Hotch as a superhero akin to the likes of Batman and Superman. I mean, he literally called us superheroes, and he said that our job was saving the world, and he called his homework junior superhero work. I couldn’t believe Hotch didn’t put the pieces together as Jack stood there, and both Jessica and I were grinning ear to ear. I couldn’t even believe that Jessica helped him pull this off and they didn’t tell us.

My heart was literally melting in my chest as Jack smiled up at his dad and said, “I’m you, Daddy.”

I looked up at Hotch and saw how big his smile was now. If Jessica and I were grinning ear to ear, I didn’t know what to call Hotch’s smile. I had never seen him that happy in his life. Since Haley, I feared that Hotch sometimes wondered if Jack blamed him somehow; and I was scared that it would impact their relationship because Hotch was worried that he was failing Jack. But seeing Jack standing there, looking like a spitting image of his father, there was no doubt in my mind that Jack loved his father unconditionally and put no blame on him. I just hoped that Hotch understood it now, too, and wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Jack needed his superhero to keep saving the world and raising him the best way he knew how. Hotch had never failed Jack, not even when it came down to what happened with Haley and Foyet. Hotch could never fail Jack. There was no way Hotch’s mind or heart would ever allow that to happen. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let it happen, anyhow.

Hotch didn’t move for a second, paralyzed by the overwhelming feeling of glee. I reached down and peeled his hands from my hips and crouched down. “Come here, little man, let’s fix your tie.” Jack ran over to me and lifted his chin up towards the ceiling so that I could pop the collar of his tiny suit and fix the tie around his neck. “There you go,” I told him as I fixed the collar back down around the tie and Jack lowered his chin again. He lifted his arms into the air, a silent plea for me to pick him up. He was getting so big, I wasn’t sure how much longer Hotch and I could pick him up, but I was going to fight like hell to make that time last, and I was going to take every chance I got. I lifted him into my arms and propped him on my hip. “Do you like Dad’s costume?” I asked Jack, pointing to Hotch’s Superman shirt. Jack nodded. “Doesn’t he look like Superman?” Jack nodded again.

Hotch put his arms out this time, another silent plea to hold Jack. I handed him over and watched as Hotch adjusted Jack’s tie ever so slightly. “You look like a real FBI agent,” Hotch complimented. “How much candy do you think an agent can get tonight?”

“All of the candy!” Jack laughed.

“All of it?! Woah! That agent must be really good to get all of the candy. Do you think you’re up for it?”

“Yeah!” Jack wriggled himself out of Hotch’s hold and jumped to his feet. Jack started shuffling off to grab his Halloween candy bucket downstairs, then anxiously wait by the door until we would catch up with him. Jessica laughed and joined him.

Hotch turned back to me and grabbed my hips roughly again. “I love you.”

My heart swelled. I smiled at him as I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I think I might love him just a little more than you.”

“You always say that.”

“Yeah, but that was adorable…” I giggled and kissed his cheek. “What am I going to do with two Agent Hotchners running around?”

“It could be three,” he teased, leaning in to kiss my lips. I dodged. “Kiss me.” I smirked and dodged again. He grabbed my chin. “Don’t be a brat,” he growled before kissing me deeply. “I love you,” he breathed against my lips.

“I love you, too.” I kissed him back. When I pulled away again, I said, “And it could be more than three at some point—”

“You’re going to kill me…” he whispered with a smirk. His fingers danced over the whip on my side. “One step at a time, though. I just want to make the trio official first.”

“Dad!” Jack called from downstairs.

I giggled again and pulled myself out of Hotch’s hold. “I love you, but we should go.” I grabbed his hand, then started leading him down towards the front door so that we could take our little man trick-or-treating.

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322@rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

30 notes · View notes

treatian · 3 years

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 74: Rats and Crickets

When he left the shop, the first thing he did was round the corner and then disappeared. He took himself into the library, up into the clocktower, where he found the minute hand and checked to ensure his dagger was still firmly attached. It was. That was good. It meant that the pirate hadn't targeted this dagger, only the shawl. Though, now that he thought about it, that was scary in its own way. For a pirate to take a simple shawl when jewels and gold and other treasures so clearly priceless were within reach suggested that Hook wasn't looking to make a fast buck. He was seeking to hurt him but not to kill him. Hook wanted to deeply wound him right down to his soul. Suffering was going to be the name of the game. How he'd found out about his experiments and figured out that he needed the shawl…that was beyond his knowledge, but only for the time being.

As he stretched his senses out over the library, he felt no other presence there, not until he felt the familiar presence of Belle coming back. That was relieving. It meant that she was alone, Hook had not returned to the library, and he hoped it would stay that way. He trusted that if Belle had returned, she'd remembered to lock the door, though he knew that a locked door wouldn't be enough to keep Hook out if he wanted to come back. He already had the shawl; it would be all too easy for him to go after Belle again, to truly destroy every last drop of happiness in his life out of revenge the way he'd destroyed Milah in anger.

He didn't want to waste time, not with Belle on her own, not with Bae's shawl in the balance. At the moment, Hook was the only one with more information on him than Belle. Anything Milah knew about him was something he had to assume Hook knew. Hell, anything his father knew about him, he had to assume Hook knew. There was a reason he'd taken that shawl, and so there was a reason he had to take it back before it was too late. He needed to find Hook. Now. And he knew exactly where he was going to look first.

Ordinarily, for the task of tracking down an individual, he would have called Dove. But as of last night, that was entirely unnecessary when it came to William Smee. His own magic was invested into the potion he'd poured over that hat of his, and if there was one thing in this world he knew how to find right now, it was his own damn magic. It was like a beacon, calling out to him even from across town. Or down the street…

Idiot.

He wasn't even trying to hide, and yet the bag and the speed at which he was walking and his shifty little eyes darted around suggested that he knew that he'd be looking for him. He was wearing his hat, the one capable of crossing the town line. He probably thought he'd be safe there. Not a chance.

He used his magic to take him across the street just as Smee rounded the corner of the Rabbit's Hole. When he felt his magic draw closer, he threw his hand up and tossed a wave of it back at him, sealing around his throat so that it was difficult to breathe.

"Leaving town, Mr. Smee?" He turned and saw his magic force Smee against the brick wall as he struggled, the bag swinging by his side as he sneered at him. "I spared your life. And this is how you repay me? That object you stole from me – I want it back."

"I gave it to Hook!"

Hook. Funny how Hook was suddenly in Storybrooke.

"And where is he?"

"I don't know," he choked out, putting his hand uselessly to his throat. "W-we met on a rooftop. He didn't tell me anything."

Naturally. He knew nothing. He was just a man for hire. He'd hired him to get the bean and failed. Moe had hired him to hurt Belle. Hook had probably hired him to fetch that shawl while he'd distracted Belle. He could respect a man who earned a living doing tasks of questionable legality. He could not respect a man who didn't have loyalty to him in performing those tasks. Three strikes…

"And why would he? Hook knows exactly what you are, Mr. Smee – a sniveling rat."

He channeled his magic into his hands, gathered it there as he summoned up a wonderful image in his head of Smee becoming exactly what he was. With a turn of his hand, he released his magic, and in a puff of black smoke, Mr. Smee was no more. He melted away, clothes and all except for one item so touched by magic that it alone was the sole survivor of his spell.

Smee's red hat lay on the ground. Beneath it was a small, slight movement. With a sweep of his cane, he moved the hat aside to reveal a clean black rat, looking up at him with fear as his nose twitched. Perfect.

"Now, scurry off," he commanded of the rat. It circled around the hat once, as if convinced it might be able to drag it away with him, but on second thought, he abandoned it and hurried away from the scene.

Smee was useless. He thought to use his magic to track him down, but his memories of how he'd been unable to find Hook in the store before were fresh in his mind. Where he'd been all these years, why he was making an emergence now, where he'd gotten magic…there were many unknowns in all of this. So, he turned not to magic but rather the one thing that he knew. The sea. That was the one constant in Hook's life. He'd always been a Captain, always been a pirate. He couldn't be sure what their conversation had included before she'd called him earlier, but even Belle had known he'd been a pirate. When a person was scared or hiding, they looked for something familiar, something they knew. In this world, that was called "home-field advantage." For Hook, that meant returning to the sea or his ship. Whatever it may be.

He had experience with most ships in Storybrooke harbor. Hell, he owned most of them! And he made it his business to know his property intimately even if he never physically stepped foot on board. There were many familiar vessels in Storybrooke harbor. One by one, he walked the docks, glancing at each ship, letting Mr. Gold do what he'd always done.

The Elizabeth a crabbing vessel in the property of one Will Turner.

Voyager, a yacht owned by a young girl named Morgan who had hopes of sailing around the world before she reached eighteen; that was a rough dream to have in Cursed Storybrooke.

Louis' Bayou a large craft that hosted dinner on the weekends with a jazz band as it sailed the harbor-tourist attraction.

Milo Thatch, The Dream, Tantor, The Ark, Kwango Kate…it was useless! He made it to the empty last dock and was almost thankful there was nothing to see. Every ship he recognized, every one of them had a story that he knew, and Mr. Gold knew that none of them belonged to a pirate or even a one-handed sailor! Coming had been a waste of time.

He had to get back to the shop. He had that pirate's hand stowed away in a backroom somewhere. He hated to bring it out and use it on this, but if he'd once used a potion he intended to use on the Blue Fairy prematurely for Baelfire, then he was sure as hell going to use that hand to get his son back and ensure Belle's safety! In fact, whatever magic the pirate was using to hide himself, there was a chance that the hand would be immune to it because it was part of the pirate himself. And if it didn't work? Then he was back to using the old-fashioned methods, scrying or a locator potion, maybe something new to take him to the shawl. Maybe he could-

"Mr. Gold!"

He kept walking. Kept his eyes straight in front of him, unwilling to let one of his tenants, who he was sure just wanted to negotiate a new loan or perhaps get a lower interest rate, stop him. Gold's work could fucking wait until he had his son.

"Mr. Gold!"

But something about the voice shouting after him had him pausing on the dock. It had him stopping to furrow his brow in confusion because he knew that voice. It was familiar to him, but…it was impossible. Dr. Hopper was dead.

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

The shouting of his name finally forced him to turn and what he saw…he couldn't have prepared for. He'd seen many things in his life, many that didn't make sense, but this…this defied reason.

"Dr. Hopper…" he breathed as the red-headed doctor struggled to catch up with him. Obviously out of shape, he was pale save for red exertion in his cheeks.

"Mr. Gold," he finally huffed out, coming to stand before him, letting out a sigh of relief as he hunched himself over at the waist and supported his weight on his knees. This wasn't possible. Not by any means, and yet he felt no magic on the man suggesting it was a trick of Regina's or glamor of any kind.

"You're alive?!" he balked, trying to wrap his mind around it. It wasn't just that Belle had gone to the funeral; he'd seen the man die. He'd seen the memories Emma had brought forth from the dog, unaltered by him. Emma could have altered them herself, but…she'd been under the impression it was a frame job; she'd been supporting Regina and shocked by what she'd seen. To have conjured something she didn't want was…well, it was nearly as impossible as the dead coming back to life and yet…

"It was a trick," Archie huffed out. "A setup!"

"Regina-"

"Not Regina…another woman, older, dark hair, maybe his mother…" he explained, finally standing up as tall as he could while still gasping for air. He was in bad shape, which was odd because he knew the cricket wasn't. He walked Pongo twice a day; he was healthy. It could only mean he'd been contained for so long. "She's working for Hook! They were keeping me tied up on his ship to frame Regina! Belle found me. Set me free-"

"Belle?"

He didn't understand half of what Archie was saying, but all at once, he knew the danger of what his clues pointed to. Belle. Hook's ship. Mysterious woman. A dangerous situation indeed. His stomach clenched. Belle on Hook's ship…considering what became of Milah when she'd gotten onto Hook's ship…

"She sent me for help."

"Belle set you free?" he clarified, hoping against every logical thought he had that he'd misunderstood. "Belle was on Hook's ship?"

"Yes! That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

He'd barely gotten the last word out before he reached forward and grabbed the man by the collar. Damn wherever he'd been or what had happened to him, he had to get to Belle!

"Where is she?! Where is Belle?!"

"She stayed behind!" he cried. "I tried to get her to come with me, but she stayed! She sent me for help, to find you. I don't know why she stayed. I don't know!"

He did. He knew why she'd stayed behind.

The shawl.

That woman! She'd tried to get it back. How she'd done it, how she'd figured out where Hook was before he did was a mystery to him, but it didn't matter now. She'd longed to be a hero for him, for Baelfire, for herself, and now she was going to get herself killed over it because she hadn't a clue what she'd walked into.

"Where is she, Dr. Hopper?!" he stressed, trying to calm the man through any means necessary.

"On the ship. She wanted me to find you and take you to her, to bring you to the boat."

"Where is it?"

"It's…" Hopper turned so fast that he had no choice but to release him or trip. He observed as the man looked down the dock, then left then right, and by the time he looked down the empty dock again, he felt a knot in his stomach. Something was wrong.

"It was there a minute ago!"

"Where?" he demanded.

"I don't understand. It was just there?!

"Where?!" He questioned, hoisting his cane into the air as if it were a club. No more "there's"! If he was to help Belle, he had to know "where"!

"The end of that dock!" Hopper screamed and cried against the intimidation. He pointed in the direction of the empty dock. "I've been free for no more than a minute or two; he couldn't just disappear. It's like…like…"

"Magic," he finished for him, staring at the empty space.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #Belle #Dr Archie Hopper #Jiminy Cricket #Captain Hook #Killian Jones #William Smee #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

5 notes · View notes

seek-its-opposite · 4 years

Text

photosensitivity | wc: 2156 | ao3

prompt from @catarinquar 65. "look at me—just breathe, okay?”

post-demons. warning: some references to suicidal ideation

*****

Twelve hours after almost shooting his partner, Fox Mulder is released from the hospital in satisfactory health. His partner, whose health is decidedly unsatisfactory, is entrusted with his care. As she signs her name at the bottom of the release form she avoids eye contact with the nurses, half convinced that if they look at her they won’t let her leave. Lately she’s been thinking of howlers.

Scully, silent and reckless, drives them both two hours out of Rhode Island before stopping at a motel on the Connecticut-New York state line. The clouds are threatening what looks to be a hell of a mid-afternoon storm, and she doesn’t want to be on the road with him when it hits. She leaves her rumpled partner in the car with the window cracked while she goes to the front desk, glancing back possessively over her shoulder as the woman behind the counter gets their keys. One room, two beds. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, Mulder.”

She keeps seeing him like she found him, on his knees before the ghosts of his childhood. She sees him praying to the barrel of his gun.

By the time the rain slaps the window Mulder is lying stiff as a board on top of the cheap comforter, hands flat at his side. Scully, doing a poor job at concentrating on the dog-eared copy of Into the Wild she stole from his apartment, eyes him from the corner. The lamp beside her flickers and hums. Lightning flares through the blinds, cutting Mulder in half diagonally like a Vegas magician.

Extreme photosensitivity, the doctor had said, scrawling notes for her on things to look out for. She looks for curtains to close and finds none.

“Shit,” she mutters.

“Scully?” Mulder squints at her from the bed.

“Just the storm.”

He closes his eyes again. “Hey, Scully, if April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?”

She doesn’t even have time to decide whether to indulge him. The next bolt of lightning is close, flashing white-hot outside the window just seconds before the thunder claps. Mulder cries out and grabs his head, sitting up so quickly he slides off the side of the mattress and hits the floor with a crash.

“Mulder!”

He’s unresponsive when she reaches him, flat on his back and glassy eyed on the carpet. Scully crouches at his side.

“Mulder,” she prompts, more measured this time. “Can you hear me?”

She feels his pulse racing in his neck and moves her other hand to his chest, spreading her palm across his stupid, hot-blooded heart. After a second Mulder blinks and focuses on her. He winces and sits up, letting out a long breath.

“Easy,” Scully warns. She grabs his shoulder and guides him, gently, so he’s facing her, sitting against the side of the bed with his left knee at his chest. He slumps back, his arm lolling across his knee.

“I saw my mom,” he says. His voice is rough. “With the cancer man.”

“You have no way of knowing if that’s true.”

“I have no way of knowing if it’s a memory,” he counters. “I know it’s true.”

He leans his head back against the comforter and shuts his eyes.

Scully rests her hand on Mulder’s forehead, her pinkie in his hair and her thumb stroking his brow. His hairline is sweaty. “Mulder, the lightning isn’t good for you,” she murmurs. “It’s triggering your seizures.”

Mulder huffs out a laugh. She wonders what he sees behind those eyelids. “Maybe if you show the storm your badge,” he suggests.

She almost smiles. “I’ll do that.”

The room lights up again. She has to get him out of here. Scully pushes herself off the floor, patting Mulder’s leg as she stands. He looks up at her. “I was kidding,” he says.

“I’ll be right back.”

The bathroom has no window. It’s short on floor space, but if she folds a towel for him to sit in front of the bathtub here, folds another in front of the sink here—with the door closed it should work. There’s a shell-shaped night light plugged into the outlet; she flips the switch and the room glows faint pink, so warm and sweet she’s overcome with love with it for a second. Dana, look at you, she thinks. You can’t tell the difference between a panic room and a home.

“Come here,” she says to Mulder, and holds out her hand. She pulls him to his feet.

When he sees the bathroom he says, “I didn’t realize we checked into the Ritz.”

She replies, “I used your card.”

They sit on worn towels in their socks with their knees touching. In the shadows she can almost trick herself into thinking they’re on a stakeout.

“You don’t have to stay in here,” he tells her, trying to sound casual. “If anything happens I’ll just scream in agony.” He doesn’t pull off the joke.

“I’m good,” she soothes.

He called her in the middle of the night with blood down his shirt and she came to find him. It’s been too late to leave for years.

“Scully—” Mulder pauses.

She waits.

“That was the third time I’ve aimed my gun at you.”

“I wasn’t keeping track,” she replies. A lie. “How’s this lighting for you? Is this better?”

“Scully.”

“No. I’m not going to do this right now.”

“Do what?” he pleads.

“Make this about your guilt. We’ve both aimed our weapons at each other. God, Mulder.” She gestures at his shoulder. “I shot you.”

She shot him is the tamest way to put it. She shot him so he wouldn’t spend his life in jail. She drugged him and drove him across the country, slept in rest stop parking lots at dawn, wet an old washcloth with the melting ice water from the bottom of her cooler and draped it across his forehead. She never talks about that part. She understands that they are each tallying up the wrong score, that when they look at themselves they see the ways they hurt each other as more legitimate than the ways they heal. In their pact to trust each other they count only the breaches of contract.

It’s been scaring her lately to think of what legacy she might leave with him. To think he could get it so wrong. It makes her furious.

“You want me to tell you I think you were reckless and stupid?” she continues. “I do! You put a hole in your head. But we both know that’s not what you feel bad about.”

Thunder rumbles muted above their heads.

“I had to know,” Mulder insists.

“You could have killed yourself, Mulder.” She’s angry now, properly. Her ribs feel like they’re trying to break out of her body. “Do I mean that little to you?”

His lips part, like one of his fish.

“I need you,” Scully sniffs. Her voice is very small.

Mulder reaches out and touches her shin with just his fingertips. She shudders.

“I’m here,” he says.

“Then listen to me.” She takes a breath, steadies herself. “Stop punishing yourself like it’ll make me better. I never asked for your penance.”

“You don’t ask for anything.” He sounds almost bewildered.

“I do,” she says bitterly. She thinks, You just haven’t noticed.

She can’t believe she thought it was him showing up at her door on a Friday night with a bottle of wine. Desire makes her foolish; it has since she was a girl.

At this point—because their lives are a divine joke—they’re rudely interrupted. In the low light Scully tastes the warm blood on her upper lip before Mulder can see it. A nosebleed. Fuck. Now? She cups her palm beneath her nose and lunges for the sink, leaning over it, knuckles white around the counter.

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder sighs. He stands.

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

It’s really not, considering. She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes stock of her body. There’s a dim ache in her head, a low throbbing just between her eyes. Her neck is stiff. Her limbs are sore; her ankles will probably be bruised tomorrow from sitting on the tile, even with socks on. She bruises so easily now, her soft, bad-apple skin. She’ll need a full night of sleep tonight. She should eat something that doesn’t come from a vending machine, but that might be pushing it.

Mulder reaches for the toilet paper, and she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Give it a minute,” she says. Over time she’s learned it’s easier to just bend over the sink or the toilet and wait it out until it slows down. Her blood stains the ceramic basin food-coloring red.

Mulder hovers at her shoulder, so charged with anxious energy she can almost hear him worrying. She’s his little watched pot; it’s like he thinks if he stays close, she can never boil over.

“Mulder, I’m in here to take care of you,” Scully sighs, and even though she doesn’t mean it as anything close to a joke, she finds it suddenly funny. What a pair. She laughs a weak, wet laugh and wipes a tear from her eye.

He chuckles. “We can take turns.”

Without looking up at him, she orders, “Sit down, Mulder.”

He sits on the closed toilet, nervous hands clasped between his spread-wide knees.

After a while her nose stops bleeding. Scully accepts one wad of toilet paper from Mulder to wipe down the sink and a few squares to bunch in her hand, just in case. As she’s washing up she notices the way her palm, the one she held up to him earlier, is smudged at its center with dried blood. She thinks of Stevenson’s Black Spot, of Shirley Jackson’s, and wonders if Mulder is getting the picture yet: Dana Scully, marked for death.

What she does not think of is the stigmata. She hasn’t had much time lately for resurrection.

She sits back down on the floor, this time taking the towel at Mulder’s feet, and leans against the wall—looking up at him now, as usual. The right half of his face glows night-light pink; the left is dark. She stares into the chiaroscuro contours of his silhouette and knows that for better or for worse he’ll get the last of her. He can’t die when she does; he can’t. She fiddles with the toilet paper in her hand.

“You know I don’t blame you for this,” she says quietly. Her mouth tastes like iron. “You’re disrespecting me if you blame yourself.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Scully, you’ve given me four years of your life.” His voice catches on something he doesn’t say. “After everything you’ve done for me, for Samantha—you deserve the truth as much as I do.”

No. He did this in her name? “Mulder.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You should know her, Scully. You should’ve known her.”

She, leaning forward too, clasps her hands too hard around his palms. “I know you,” she says fiercely.

Mulder, at a loss, shuts his eyes and sobs without tears. His chin drops toward his chest, shoulders heaving.

Scully shifts on the towel so she’s on her knees, pushing herself up to meet him. She puts a finger underneath his chin and guides his face up to look into hers. His eyes are dry when he opens them, but his breathing is ragged.

This desperate, passionate thing between them scares her. She swallows the bitter taste on her tongue.

“Hey, look at me,” she urges. “Just breathe, okay?”

He breathes. She cups his cheek.

“I do not accept answers like that,” she insists. This, too, is an order. He nods, dazed.

She sees him kneeling before sun-faded photos of a smiling little sister and two cold New England parents. He was raised to be sacrificed to a cause and he’s been trying ever since.

Thunder rolls in the distance. Scully puts her hands on Mulder’s knees. Her head throbs.

“Tell me something about Samantha I don’t know,” she says. She sits back on her heels.

Mulder pauses and takes another uneven breath. He smiles gingerly. “She loved doing cartwheels,” he says. “She was always crashing into the couch when it was too cold for her to do them outside. There just wasn’t room. She always thought this time there would be enough room.” His eyes start to well up.

“After Sam broke her collarbone she couldn’t do cartwheels for months, so she taught me how to do them out in the yard. She was like a drill sergeant." He laughs through his nose. "It was fall, and she made me clear the leaves like a runway.”

He’s crying now. Mulder runs a hand over his mouth and sits back. He looks at Scully, ruined.

“Do you think he’s her father too?”

#txf #msr #my fic #demons #cancer arc #catarinquar #thanks for the prompt!!#finally putting my lifetime of nosebleed experience to use

201 notes · View notes

snowbellewells · 4 years

Text

A Cottage by the Sea: Part Three

Hello there, lovely shipmates and readers! I truly never meant to keep you waiting so long for this next installment, but there we are. I went back to school, and then somewhat over-committed myself in other fic events and ideas as well, and time just flew by before I could get this update to you! I hope that you will still enjoy all the same. I’ll stop making excuses and just let you read. This may seem like a bit of a “talky”, slower chapter, but I needed to let Killian learn and work through some things, and to set Emma on her course...

** So many thanks as always to @cssns for the opportunity to participate in such a fun and amazing event, and to @searchingwardrobes for the gorgeous and stunning cover art I simply adore. And a special shout out in this chapter to @winterbythesea for the suggestion of a name for Emma’s horse that sounded just right as soon as I heard it! :)

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half. But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

Read it from the beginning HERE or on AO3

Part Three

“My mother?” he questioned, voice hesitant and perplexed as he scrambled to stand and face the ethereal being who had stepped gracefully from the pool, and after just a moment appeared miraculously dry with not a hair out of place - as if she had never been underwater at all.

Killian blinked, half expecting her to disappear when his eyes reopened. When the beautiful nymph - for that was what she must be - still stood before him, watching curiously, he shook his head and wondered vaguely if he had hit it after all, either in the wreck or once washed to shore. “My mother died… long ago… when I was a mere babe, according to my father. It cannot be possible for you… that you… I mean…” Gesturing helplessly with awkward hands, Killian finally let his words trail off, beseeching her with a look to understand.

The mysterious lady’s eyes seemed to darken their blue shade with the sadness glistening in their depths. Shaking her head, she stepped closer, practically gliding over the ground between them. “Killian, my dear,” she crooned, her cool, soothing hand caressing his cheek with the lightness of a butterfly’s wing. “There is so much you do not know…” she shook her head sadly, beckoning him to follow her to a spot in the shade of the trees around the clearing. “Come, let me explain. It has been kept from you long enough. And…” she swallowed some deep emotion. “I’ve waited so long to talk to you.”

Biting his tongue against more indignant and disbelieving outbursts, Killian found he was greatly comforted by the soft press of her fingers on his own, and followed her dutifully to a large, flat rock at the clearing’s edge and took a seat. He had a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue and nearly as many rebuttals to her claim. Yet, he found he also wanted her to stay there - whoever or whatever she might be. He needed to know what she had to say.

When the woman’s large eyes turned to meet his again, she asked, “What do you remember of the time before you came to Misthaven?”

Running a hand back through his damp hair - dark like hers, in almost the same shade, he realized then - ruffling it up off his forehead and making it stand wildly on end, Killian shook his head at a loss. His hand fell back to his thigh with a slap as he shrugged and answered her with sheepish honesty. “I’m afraid you won’t gain much from my memory; it’s frighteningly blank beyond boarding a tall ship for some long journey with my father and my brother Liam. Then, somehow…” he shrugged again, knowing there should be more, but instead he had only ever found a mystifying blank. “Then my father is just… gone. Liam and I were alone on that vessel, little better than slaves.” His eyes fell to studying his rough-calloused hands, as if he felt abruptly unworthy to meet her eyes. “We were trapped there for years, Captain said we had a debt to pay and we weren’t getting free until we did so. Never let us out of his sight when we docked, so we couldn’t run. It was too far to swim for freedom on some shore, even though we could both swim like seal pups.” A bitter and raw half-smile pulled up one side of his mouth in a crooked smile before he continued.

As if she could sense his hurt and the hesitation that plagued him, the lovely being reached out once more to take his hand in hers, rubbing cool, soft fingers over the back of it in comfort. She did not speak, nor try to press or hurry him, merely waited patiently for Killian to find his words and purge the rest of his story.

“Truth be told,” he finally sighed in resignation, “I would still be a servant to that wretched captain… if not for the storm…”

That serene face only stared back at him, listening kindly and conveying the sense that she understood - more than he could remember being understood before. Eyes as blue as his own looked deep beyond his outer appearance, the sadness at his suffering as clear as if she had spoken it aloud. Instead, she gave a gentle nod, and once more waited patiently.

“There was a storm at sea, some years ago now,” he finally pressed on, reaching the part of his tale that both lead to his greatest loss and his truest joy. “It blew up suddenly and many were washed overboard - Liam and I among them. I do not know if they left us purposefully, not worth the risk and effort, or if they genuinely couldn’t see us in the rough waters. At any rate, I do not know how I survived. Through what twist of fate I washed ashore in the kingdom of Misthaven when Liam did not, but that was where I woke. I was found by the princess, who was just about my age, taken in and nursed back to health by the royal family - unbelievable as it seems - and eventually I joined their navy. Only, it would appear, to be shipwrecked once again on my first mission as a lieutenant.”

Here the woman returned his rueful smile at the course that had shaped his life thus far. There were many details he had omitted - his love for Emma, and her for him, chief among them - but it seemed needless to prattle on. In fact, it was clear his mysterious companion was at last ready to speak.

Remorse was clear in the face entirely too beautiful and flawless to be fully human as she reached the hand not still holding his up to trace the scar on his cheek - made long ago by a sadistic bosun before a nine-year-old Liam had jumped between and taken the brunt of the punishment. Tenderness and wistful longing filled her gaze as she did so. Her voice was still mellifluous when she spoke, though soft and slightly broken with her emotion. “My son, what you’ve been through… it pains me more than I can say. The hardship you endured, the abandonment and mistreatment you suffered, none of it was anything like the life I wished for you and your brother when you were born. Such dreams I had for you both as we sat outside our little cottage, watching the tides roll in and little sandpipers running over the sand. Liam was so sweet, so attentive, bringing me seashells as I held you and sang lullabies, anxious to help you learn to swim and build sandcastles…”

She trailed off for a moment, her pearly white teeth pressing into her lower lip as she struggled to suppress a new swell of emotion before continuing. It was just as well. Killian’s mind was racing, hardly able to make sense of such idyllic, wonderful scenes of which he had not even the slightest recall.

Her other hand fell to her lap and her fingers were pulled free of his as he lurched to his feet and began to pace with the unsettled agitation overtaking him. “Why do I remember none of this?!” he implored, his every breath bringing an emotional swing from anger to stark devastation and back. It was as though he had been robbed anew of the loving family and carefree childhood he had grown up missing - this time by the assertion that he had possessed such treasure once and could not even picture it. “If you truly are who you say,” he finally demanded, returning to the lovely, dark-haired woman and crouching to peer into her face once more. His fist tightened and then opened reflexively, his adamance on gaining some answers, some understanding, clear. “If you really are my mother… What happened all those years ago? Why did you leave us? Where were you when Liam and I were taken into servitude? Where have you been for all this time in between? … Why… why were we all alone in the world?”

He blinked rapidly, unwilling to show more weakness than his ragged question had already revealed. For the lost little boy who had never known his mother, who had never understood why he and his brother were surrendered to such a cruel fate, was still inside the grown lieutenant, but Killian could not let that broken child surface now, not when he might finally gain answers. His mouth was a firm line as he stared down this mysterious nymph; his eyes hard as he refused to let her look away.

A tear escaped her eye and ran down her porcelain cheek, a luminescent drop of liquid glowing brightly on its way. She was clearly suffering at the admission of his hurt, whatever else he might think of her. And when she spoke again, her voice was flinty and resolved; he could doubt her sincerity no longer. “Killian, I am your mother. Whether you accept it or not, that is as much truth as the waves coming in to meet the shore. But your father - he beguiled me. He had more power - and more darkness - than I knew. He stole you boys, my dearest loves, from me. By the time I had located you once more, and made preparations to bring you both here to Ogygia for safety, it was too late. Liam had been lost to the depths - stolen forever where your father could keep him for himself eternally. And you had been taken in by the royals of Misthaven. I watched that evening as they found you, and I came back unseen to watch you many other times with your crewmates, your golden-headed princess… any glimpse I could steal of you as you grew up hearty, strong and brave - just as I always knew you would. It seemed unfair to make myself known then, to uproot you once more… not when you appeared so happy…” She searched his face as her words came together in dawning realization. “What that - Was I wrong?”

Overcome, Killian shook his head, not sure how to address his reply. Finally, he managed to murmur, “No, no you were not mistaken. They treated me as if I were their own. I was as happy as I have ever been…” His eyes seemed to be attempting to focus on something far back within his memory, long ago and leagues away. “But - “ he tried again, wetting his lips and plunging forward with his unbelievable question. “If all that is true, does that make… Is my father…?” He found he could not speak the ridiculous question his mind was urging him to ask.

She nodded instead, relieving him of it. “Yes, he is Davy Jones. And I am Calypso, daughter of Atlas.”

Killian knew his mouth must have fallen open, gaping at the woman before him, returning his gobsmacked look with nothing but open honesty. “Son, please believe me,” she urged, reaching for his hand once more. She nearly beamed with fragile-seeming hope when he dumbly allowed her to twine their fingers again. “I know it must seem like a lot to take in… a monstrous amount to believe on good faith, but I am telling you the truth. Never did I wish to be parted from you or your brother. I would never have left either of you by choice. That Liam is lost to us…” here she solemnly shook her head, bowing it over their joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles, “For that, I can only apologize that I was unable to save him. You must know that I tried, Killian.”

Slowly but surely the rushing sound that had taken over in his head, the pounding of his heart and the strange sense of hysteria which had very nearly enveloped him, began to ebb away. The hurt and doubt did not vanish - and he had so many questions for her that he hardly knew where to start - but the hardest knot of bitterness and anger in his chest eased, loosened enough that he could catch his breath and study this woman before him - his mother! - with a focus that brought acceptance, and even a sort of thrill. He had a mother, who loved him and wanted to know him. How could he in good conscience turn away? And if all she said was true, of which he felt all but certain, then she had already suffered just as he had. Why should he force either of them to bear anything more?

Leaning in, an uncertain, almost eager look transformed his face as he spoke in an awed whisper. “You searched for us?” he repeated, letting the comfort of it sink into his soul. “You tried to get us back? To save Liam?”

Tears were pouring down the sea nymph’s face now, to the point that she didn’t even speak, merely nodded vigorously and opened her arms wide to him in welcome.

“Mother,” he exhaled, and gave in. He could hold back no longer. Resting his head on her shoulder, Killian leaned into a maternal embrace of the sort he had been missing all his life. His shoulders hitched with silent weeping, letting out much that had been buried so deeply he had not even known it still pained him.

Gentle, soothing fingers ran through his hair, rubbed his back as she rocked back and forth gently, at last feeling completed to have her child back in her arms, grown though he might be. She let him purge the torrent of grief and fear, lightly humming a melody that eased him and that Killian felt vaguely he had heard somewhere before.

His mother! His mind could hardly grasp the revelation, and yet, she was there. He might still be shipwrecked and stranded - lost - but he was no longer alone.

~~***~~

Under cover of dark, the very night after they had received news that Killian’s ship was lost, Princess Emma was using the filtered light of the full moon to sneak from her apartments and down to the stables. She had listened all day as her mother and father spoke to their trusted inner circle, debating and considering if there were any possibility of even some of the ship’s crew having survived - and how they would go about seeking them in a rescue mission if the chance existed. Was it even possible to look for a ship that was by now shattered in pieces and likely sunk to the depths, invisible to their eyes? And yet, Queen Snow had interjected more than once, her boundless well of hope apparent, could they truly do otherwise when their adopted son and dozens of other loyal sailors might still live?

Her husband and their advisors agreed, and yet, there was the other practical concern that any search voyage might only be sending more innocent lives into a trap - a snare set by a supernatural foe they did not understand well enough to combat and survive. Eventually, all left the council chambers but the King and Queen, and Emma herself. It was then that they used a mirror - a magic one enchanted to allow them to communicate, which had been gifted to Snow by Ariel as a wedding present when she married her ‘Charming’. Using it, they contacted the maritime kingdom’s rulers for more information.

The news had been dire. Emma shivered even then, hours later, under her heavy riding cloak as she gingerly gripped the vine-covered trellis next to her balcony and swung out onto it, needing to climb down and cross the lawn to the stables undetected. The memory still haunted her, of Ariel explaining how legend had it that Davy Jones took any prisoners left alive aboard his phantom ship, eternally pressed into his cursed crew.

What it had boiled down to in the end was that they could not send more men out on a fruitless mission; not knowing where to send them, or even where they should begin, and especially not when most likely the only result would be their capture or death as well. All the same, Emma had felt hurt and betrayed on Killian’s behalf - despite the decision making logical sense. It was maddening that they would do nothing when Killian would have left no stone unturned, no island or inlet unsearched, if the roles were reversed and any of those who sat debating whether to search for him or not were lost. She had just barely managed to bite back such recriminations, knowing they were unfair, but she could not help storming from the meeting, unable to helplessly stand by any longer. She had heard her father gently urging her mother to let her go, to give her some time, and she had been in her rooms ever since. Not crying or grieving as most probably believed, but plotting her next move.

Though she had no evidence to back it up, Emma knew - simply knew it in her marrow, as sure as she felt her heart beat and her blood pound in her veins - that her lieutenant was out there somewhere alive. Just as she had since the first shock of the shipwreck’s announcement had worn off, she still believed that, were her sailor no longer in the world, she would be aware of the loss, the lacking in all that he left behind. There had been a link between she and Killian since he washed ashore and she found him all those years ago; in her deepest being, Emma felt it was because they were meant to be together, always destined, two halves of the same whole, just like her parents. She might not profess such girlish dreams aloud, but she harbored the belief nonetheless. And, since she had not felt the agony she would fully expect if he had been ripped from life, no inkling of the void she knew would split open her chest if he ceased to be, then he could still be found. It was as simple - and as much a challenge - as that.

It mattered not that she didn’t yet know where to go, she would be on her way before any could stop her or hold her back. She could chart a course from there. That afternoon as she had prepared and packed, the messenger bird she had sent out returned with her letter for Killian unopened on its leg. Yet, even that could not deter Emma. He could be somewhere the creature simply had not found. It didn’t mean… but she shook her head abruptly and refused to contemplate that possibility.

Alighting on the ground with a little hop, Emma glanced back up the ivy-trellised wall she had just descended, allowing a moment’s pride that no alarm had been rasied and none seemed the wiser. There was a fair dose of irony in the fact that she was now trying to steal away under cover of night to escape her parent’s watchful concern and protection, when it had been her mother, the Queen herself, who had first shown her how to make that scale down the outer walls in case they were ever under attack and Emma found herself in need of an alternate means of escape. Regardless of its original intention, the lesson had stuck, and the princess put her skills to good use. The cool wetness through her thin slippers brought a delicious sort of shiver up from her toes through her legs and the rest of her as she dashed across the already dew-kissed grass.

Upon entering the royal stables in a state of warm and cozily quiet peace - as if all inside were bedded down and drowsing for the night - Emma blew out a breath of relief. Her returning calm was encompassing enough that she gave a startled jump of surprise when her mare, Lady, whickered and bobbed her head to her in greeting.

“Hey there, Sweet,” Emma crooned, offering an apple to her beloved pet, her favorite mount since she first learned to ride as a little girl. Her father had given Lady to her when the mare was still a young colt, and they had been fast friends ever since. The horse playfully bowed her head to her mistress, nudging Princess Emma’s shoulder with her long velvety nose and munching the treat contentedly. As Emma’s fingers continued to scratch along the gentle creature’s forelock, she murmured soothing words and the horse seemed to almost nod in delight, bobbing her head and huffing approval with short snorts of air.

“Ready to go for a ride?” Emma continued, making quick work of saddle and bridle before leading Lady out of her stall and back towards the entry of the large main stable. It was as if the animal could indeed pick up the nervous excitement radiating from her rider; the sharp clopping of her hooves made quick staccato taps along the solid floor and seemed to mimic Emma’s ever-quickening pulse in her ears.

With one last glance around, making sure they were still undetected, the princess stepped into Lady’s stirrup, swung herself up onto the animal’s back, and gathered the reins in hand as she quickly doused the lantern she had lit in the hanging sconce just inside the large enclosure. Stealth was imperative, but now that she was in the clear, she would never risk a fire that could endanger the other horses, grooms and trainers. She would see well enough by moonlight once outdoors again.

A slight shudder ran through her as she glanced back at the castle over her shoulder once more. Lady trotted easily into the forest once Emma had found the gate watched by her uncle who was known for his habit of falling asleep at the most inopportune times. Slipping past him while he snored unawares, the going was easy and the path familiar from there.

Horse and rider made swift time, passing through the trees and down toward the harbor in nighttime shadows unmolested. When at last they neared the more rickety end of the docks where local fishermen and merchants kept their smaller sailboats and personal water crafts, Emma dismounted and moved toward one particular skiff, alone and completely abandoned, bobbing quietly on the gentle waves. At first glance, it appeared forgotten there without owner, but as Emma drew even with the small yet sturdy vessel, she could see it was just as she remembered - simple and unassuming certainly, but well-cared-for and more than adequate for her needs.

With little time to waste, knowing it would not be long before her absence was discovered back at the palace, and she needed to be far enough out to sea by then so she would not be spotted or returned home by well-meaning rescuers who wished to see her safe even before having Killian found. She simply couldn’t agree with that logic - royal duty or no - and in the end it was her life. She stroked lovingly over her horse’s withers again, one last scruff at the velvet muzzle in affection, before murmuring, “Head on home now, girl. You know the way,” before removing bit and bridle and watching as the little mare nodded her head as if in understanding of the command, turned and trotted back the way they had come, hooves clipping first against the wooden planks of the pier, then the cobblestones of the street beyond, tail swishing as she moved further into the distance.

Puffing out a short breath, Princess Emma consoled herself with the fact that her horse did know the path back to the castle well, and that nothing untoward would befall her - especially not so early in the pre-dawn hours when the streets and forests were almost completely deserted. Urging herself back into motion, she loosed the ties holding the small craft to its place along the pier and hopped fron the docks onto the boat deck without lingering any further. She allowed barely a moment of anxiety for the rush of concerns flooding her mind - tasks to bring the boat ‘round, set her on course, and guide her safely from the harbor and the proximity of other ships, pier and shore into open waters. She had no time to be timid; she knew what had to be done, had practiced and rehearsed it in her mind numerous times in the last few hours as she put her plan in motion. Now she simply had to follow through.

Luckily, the water was smooth and still, the wind with her, and the others vessels nearby safely anchored out of her path. With her mind on her route, eyes clear and hands steady, Emma was soon leaving the mouth of the harbor and gaining speed as the wind truly caught in the sails overhead. Her sailor had taught her well, and she was on her way to find him.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @capswantrue @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tornadoamy @xhookswenchx @bubblegum1425 @jarienn972 @courtorderedcake @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81 @ineffablecolors @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @carpedzem @let-it-raines @stahlop @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @nikkiemms

#cssns20 #cs au ff #cs au mc #a cottage by the sea #part three #lieutenant duckling au

45 notes · View notes

dabistits · 4 years

Text

To talk about Twice and villainy is to talk about class and criminality (I)

(Masterlist)

In contrast to the fantastical world that surrounds him, Bubaigawara Jin’s backstory, revealed in chapter 229, is completely unexceptional. Jin’s backstory is about class. Throughout this series, a sci fi fantasy where almost all the cast have superpowers, we are introduced to characters who’ve struggled with their Quirks, whether having one or not having one, whether having one that’s powerful or weak, whether they have Quirks that are stigmatized or not. Most of the series handles its sci fi prejudice in this way, by substituting real life characteristics like ethnicity (hero Ryukyu is of Ryukyuan ethnicity and from the colonized Ryukyu islands [source]), gender-based discrimination (including misogyny and transphobia), ability (Aoyama, Dabi, and other characters to a lesser degree have physical difficulties using their Quirks), and stigmatized physical traits (as several mutant characters mention being discriminated against) with Quirk conflicts. Ryukyu’s ethnicity, Rock Lock’s race, Magne’s transness, all the misogyny, and the real life disabilities of many characters who are missing limbs are given minimal or no attention, as these conflicts are replaced with Quirks-as-metaphor.

In this fantastical world, where we’ve supposedly left behind our prejudices about race and ethnicity, gender, disability, and so forth, and replaced them with prejudices about Quirks and Quirk compatibility, Horikoshi made the decision to make Jin’s backstory about class as we understand and live under it today. His backstory stands out as one that is utterly banal. Although Jin’s Quirk comes in later, it’s hardly the driving force of his struggle, because what he’s faced with is simply the unfeeling machinery of capitalism and the state apparatus. There’s no involvement from Quirks or Quirk society here; the world that starts Jin on his downward spiral is one that’s inextricable from our own, one that any of us (some more than others) are vulnerable to. That is to say, he didn’t become a criminal because he had an awesome Quirk that made him egotistical (or whatever people think criminals are motivated by), he became a criminal because his circumstances left him with few other ways to seek fulfillment, and possibly to survive. His Quirk was only a balm to the harm already inflicted on him by the economic realities of futuristic (and simultaneously contemporary) Japan.

A quick recap of Jin’s backstory from chapter 229: His parents, due to a villain attack, died when he was in an unspecified year in middle school (it seems ironic, and another example of BNHA’s cyclical events, that Jin himself eventually dies at the hands of a hero). At 16 years old, Jin was already working. He got into a traffic accident, although he was obeying the speed limit, and broke someone’s arm. His case was prosecuted and likely resulted in a record, but the officer in charge suggested that he may be able to “bounce back”; however, the person injured in the accident turned out to be one of his workplace’s clients, and the clients’ outrage resulted in his termination from his job. Eventually, isolated and lonely, Jin used his Quirk to become a villain, and it’s implied in the depicted panels that he mainly stole. An indeterminate amount of time after becoming a villain, Jin’s clones turned on one another, resulting in a bloodbath that traumatized Jin and resulted in split personalities. After this incident, he turned to Giran for help, who in turn introduced him to the League of Villains.

Systemic barriers

So why couldn’t Jin bounce back, as suggested by the officer? The reasons are many and diverse, not all of them stated in-text. I believe Jin’s specific circumstances merit some evidence from real-world Japan today, since there’s no statement nor implication that these things have changed in these respects, and because this is the frame of reference that Horikoshi and many of his readers are working with. In order to tap into the spirit of the work, it requires an examination of the circumstances and conditions under which the writers are creating, a recognition and acknowledgment of the social issues that may have shaped and influenced their outlooks. Thus, I think it’s important to contextualize Jin’s past not simply as a self-contained example of inequality in BNHA, but as a narrative that ties into the societal concerns of real-world Japan.

The alternative care system.

This describes the system of institutions and fostering that cares for children who are unable to live with their parents (whether it be due to circumstances like neglect and abuse, or because of the parents’ deaths). In 2014, nearly 90% of children in alternative care lived in residential facilities as opposed to with foster parents (which has its own issues); these rates are much higher than in other industrialized countries, which mostly rely on the foster care system. Residents of the residential facilities report strict rules, child abuse, and bullying. [source] Usually people age out at 18, or even earlier at 15 if they choose not to attend high school. Requests to extend alternative care until an individual reaches 20 are usually denied. [source]

The economic outlook for individuals aging out of alternative care is not optimistic. “Once individuals lose their access to staying in an institution, combined with low wages for menial entry-level jobs, many young people cannot stay on the same job that the institution helps them find when they leave institutional care. If they leave that first job, they struggle to find another[...] Those who start working straight after graduating from junior high school and are forced to leave their institutional care facility may be at a particularly high risk of becoming homeless.” [source]

What does this mean for Jin? Since his parents died when he was in middle school, it could have taken place any time between the ages of 12 to 15. Jin was already working at 16 years old, which according to our information means he dropped out of school and no longer has government-provided accommodations. Depending on when during that middle school time window his parents died, he could have possibly not even entered into the alternative care system at all, entailing that he started to work right after their passing. Either way, Jin most likely quit school and started to work to support himself at 15 years old, forgoing high school and college, taking responsibility for his own shelter, food, bills, clothing, and so on. At an age when the UA kids are just beginning the best times of their lives, making friends, staying in the school’s dormitories, Jin was literally trying to survive on his own.

Criminality.

This is a bit harder to pin down, and there aren’t many English-language sources regarding criminal justice studies, and very little that thoroughly breaks down the process. For details that we might want to know about, such as arrests and convictions according to race, ethnicity, class, mental illness, etc., those are even more lacking (possibly also in part due to Japan’s low crime rate). I’ll do my best to sum up what I do have, and maybe someone can correct me on this. Anyways, starting from the basics:

The motorcycle accident that Jin was involved in, which injured another party, is a prosecutable crime punishable by up to seven years in prison or a fine of up to one million yen. [source] Just to cover all my bases, yes, at the time of the accident, Jin was indeed a minor under Japanese law (although within an age bracket where he theoretically could be assessed and/or tried as an adult), [source] [source] but we’re not sure if/to what degree that was taken into consideration. Either way, the outcome is that Jin likely ends up with a record, according to the officer (or possibly prosecutor) who’s speaking to him. From what I can make out, getting a record from a traffic accident with injury means he was charged and probably went through summary proceedings in the lowest court, [source] though I’m unsure how this whole process would work if his status as a juvenile was taken into account.

There are a few things to point out here:

Arrest and detention (which I’m assuming is the lead-up to that conversation with the officer) are notoriously lengthy and pretty rough. [source]

Prosecutors have significant discretion in what gets pushed through to see charges and what gets dropped. This is one of the reasons, possibly the main reason, for Japan’s 99% conviction rate—prosecutors usually only press charges in cases that can bring about conviction. They can even take into consideration someone’s age, character, circumstances, etc. when deciding whether to prosecute or not. [source]

During this process, when someone is hurt in an accident, there’s a pretty big deal made of apologizing and offering compensation to the harmed party. These actions are viewed favorably when it comes to case review and sentencing, while arguing over fault and general disagreeableness hurts the case. [source] [source]

(PS: The line “you’re to blame as well” makes sense in the Japanese legal system as a facet of comparative negligence.)

(PPS: Given the ongoing debates over juvenile justice—the likes of which inspired Battle Royale—I wonder if the rather harsh results of Jin’s first encounter with law enforcement are also meant to be read more deeply?) [source; cw for child murder in link]

At this point, we have the question of whether or not Jin’s possible record impacted his inability to “bounce back.” This was also pretty difficult to find information about, and the answer is... maybe. While criminal records are held by the police, and prospective employers cannot access them, this is usually sidestepped by asking applicants to provide information about their own criminal records on a CV template (whether or not people do, or can even legally lie about this, and whether or not they can choose not to answer without impacting their chances of getting hired is not information I was able to find). [source] A certain stigma towards convicted criminals does exist, despite the criminal justice system’s prioritization of reintegration over punishment, [source] though as for further information about whether a record impacts someone’s employability and quality of life doesn’t seem to have been studied. Real world Japan’s declining recidivism rate, though not declining as fast as first-time offenses, seems at least to suggest that even individuals with a record can successfully reintegrate into society, [source] hence the officer’s suggestion that Jin can “bounce back” is not totally bizarre, although it proves short-sighted.

These details illustrate the odds of what Jin is up against. They raise the question of why prosecution didn’t go differently, and they highlight the vulnerability of a parentless child up against the legal system. Jin, again, a 16-year-old (who also doesn’t appear to have legal counsel in the depicted panels), obviously argues his responsibility in the accident; furthermore, he’s unlikely to be able to fulfill the social graces required of a lenient case review. As a teenager who’s already working to support himself, without any family to lend a hand, he likely wouldn’t have been able to muster up the finances for compensation, medical expenses, property damage, etc. at a moment’s notice, and even in installments the payment probably would’ve been a strain. For example, the possible fine of one million yen is half the annual income of Japanese households which fell below the de-facto poverty line in 2008. [source] It seems plausible that his inability to see through the proper courtesies resulted in an unfavorable assessment, and a prosecution carried through to the end. We don’t know for sure how he was sentenced—judging by his return to work, it’s likely he didn’t do jail time—but even assuming a lenient sentence, this accident quickly catches up to him. With no one to fall back on, and no one to cut him some slack, a stumble quickly becomes a fall.

Employer-employee relations.

The relationship between an employer and employee is one rooted in a power dynamic, where one side controls the time, the wages, and often the health of the other. A job and its benefits are usually the deciding factors of someone’s quality of life, so employees will work overtime, work while ill, and suffer any number of abuses to keep their jobs. Overwork, and the resulting health problems from overwork are enough of a crisis in Japan they’ve been named karoshi—death from overwork. The effects range from general, stress-caused health problems, to heart failure and suicide; what gives rise to these conditions are a complex mix of work culture, company culture, and common hiring practices. Essentially, workers are encouraged to present a loyal face to their company, and because of the structure of the job market, changing jobs isn’t easy. [source] [source] These facets of work culture also contribute to power harassment, an issue that has received growing visibility in the past decade. In 2019, 37.5% of surveyed workers reported suffering power harassment, often from bosses, including receiving excessive demands, degrading treatment, invasions of privacy, and sometimes physical abuse. [source] [source]

This drastically imbalanced relationship only receives a few panels in Jin’s backstory, but that’s all it takes to make the power dynamic clear. Within three panels, Jin’s boss assaults him, berates him, and takes away what he knows is the only source of income for a working-class 16-year-old with no family. An accident that happened is equated to an act of disloyalty because the wrong person was injured, which reflected poorly on the company Jin was working for; however, a double-standard exists. While Jin’s loyalty to the company is expected, there’s no reciprocal expectation for the company to care for the wellbeing of its own workers, instead prioritizing its image and its bottom-line. Employees can be fired at their boss’s whim, leaving the terminated party without an income nor benefits, looking at breaking into a job market that is intolerant of repeat job-seekers—even more so if the individual is someone without a lengthy employment history and without a higher education. This short interaction highlights the precarity of financial stability, where a termination from one job on one man’s authority can leave someone—even a kid—without any way of coming back and achieving a steady living.

#bubaigawara jin #jin bubaigawara #bnha meta #the exhaustive meta about i love twice

120 notes · View notes