#will dc ever do any of this? probably not. will i continue to dream about it? yes. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kirishoshego · 3 years

Text

Favorite Crime//Kirishima

!!MINORS DNI!! 18+ only

(at this point big shout out to you for coming up with these ideas!) this time under the title "Hey, watch it creep" My second piece for another collab created by@ultimate-astridwriting

Pairing: Yandere!ProHero!Kiri x fem!reader Words:7.6k

Summary: Meeting your fav Pro Hero at a convention was meant to be a one time thing, but coincidentally you somehow lost your most important belongings. And what a coincidence that out of everyone Red Riot himself found it.

TW: yandere, possessiveness, mild manipulation, dc (stalking, mention of death and murder, but not explicitly described, him keeping you locked up only mentioned at the very end, thoughts about it coming sooner), break in, long sex scene on the kitchen table, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, biting, leaving bite marks, Daddy Kink, softdom!Kiri, praise, size kink slightly, unprotected sex

Deafening screams surrounded you as you were waiting for the big double doors to open. Luck, that's what you called it when you got one of the last VIP-Tickets, considering they were sold out in seconds. It was still hard to believe that you were going to meet Red Riot himself, again. You knew him from before his fame, he had saved you once from a small accident you were involved in and ever since then he was your number one hero. By now he had saved hundreds of lives, there was no way he would remember you. And even without a personal backstory he would be your #1.

The black doors opened, revealing two buff looking security guards on each side. They kept a straight face while checking each ticket and searching through the belongings before people who were shining brighter than the sun entered the huge hall. Your excitement was soon replaced with fear, the anxious feeling of something going wrong bubbling up deep inside of the pit of your stomach. There was no chance things shouldn't go well, you tried to calm yourself down. The ticket was bought fair and square, not from a sketchy third partner, you had no weapons in your pockets or purse. But what if the code won't scan? If they think you faked it, call the cops on you, you will be banned from ever coming here again, no chance of ever meeting Kirishima again.

"Madam? Please continue walking, you're holding up the line," the security guard told you as she handed you the VIP bracelet. Every thing was just fine just said to yourself as you stepped into the event that's about to change your life. You were astonished at how colorful the hall was. Food stands were scattered around filling the big room with a comforting smell of everything sweet and savory. People were dressing up as characters from movies, animes and mangas or comics. Merchandise was showcased and sold. Special merch worth more than your rent for the next five month and others so expensive you would probably have to sell your soul for.

Fate, that's what he called it when his eyes landed on you from the raised platform through the tinted windows. While you were admiring some art, he was admiring another piece of art: you. The scene of him saving you played in his head as if it was yesterday, how you clung to him, looking up into his red eyes as if he was some sort of god. Never would he forget your smell, sweet and intoxicating. Kiri still carried the bracelet you gave him as a thank you, apologizing because it was nothing special, even after he told you it was his job, you don't need to give him anything. Now it was his lucky charm, taking it with him wherever he went. Warmness spread through his body when he spotted you buying a T-Shirt of his. You thought about him too.

Kirishima had spent two years searching for you, changing his work-out routine just so he could pass by the crash scene in hope to bump into you again. But how was he supposed to find you if he didn't even knew your name. Luck just didn't seem to be on his side. Until now. You were here, he finally had a second chance to get you and he wasn't going to pass it up. No matter who you were here with or for, he is going to be the only one on you will leave with.

"Red Riot, you with us?" one of the PR people pulled him away from you, back to the conversation they were having. "What? Sorry, of course," he said, looking down again only to find you missing again, silently cursing the man behind him. "You seem a bit lost, everything alright Eiji?" Mina asked him as she stepped beside him, putting her hand on his muscular arm. "Yeah, sorry, just a bit nervous. That's all. Thank you for asking," she offered him a bite of the donut she was currently eating to calm him down a bit, which he gladly accepted, feeling a bit more at ease now. He will find you this time, no doubt in his mind.

Three minutes. That's how long it took Kirishima to find you among everyone else. At first he over looked you, which really wasn't his fault. Someone dressed up as Elias Ainsworth was simply covering your smaller frame, but the moment his searching eyes fell on you his heart skipped a beat. You were here. For him. To see him, to be with him. Only five more people he thought, he could do that.

But now that he had seen you time appeared to be moving argonising slow. Minutes felt like hours and as much as he tried he could barely listen to whatever his fans told him, all his attention, all his thoughts where on you. His smile didn't falter once and he was kind to all, but he couldn't help and rush the small meetings.

"Hey love," his voice was deep, raspy and set of butterflies in your stomach, the warmness of his smile spreading through your body. "Hey Red Riot," your voice was small, quiet, everything it wasn't supposed to be. "Please call me Eijiro," first name basis. Even Kirishima would have been an honour, but he wanted you to call him by his name, had to hear you say it, make him feel like he's finally home. "I'm Y/N," you introduced yourself, your voice feeling a bit more secure. "Y/N, what a beautiful name," the effect his compliment had on you made him smile even more, it appeared to be easy to fluster you. "Thank you, Eijiro," he wanted you to say it over and over and over again, with love and adoration, moan it out while he pleased you better than any other human could even dream about.

"Are you here with someone?" an uneasy feeling made its presence felt. What if you were in love with someone else? „No. I'm here alone, my friend who wanted to tag along fell sick," you explained to him, noticing the tension that had build up in his body now leaving. "How long are you going to stay?" Kirishima asked, feeling less stressed once you revealed you plan on staying till early evening, considering there will be a small conference with the heroes. You didn't want to miss the opportunity of seeing everyone else here.

There was so much he wanted to tell you, ask you, get to know you, keep you with him, he couldn't handle loosing you again. But the photographer cleared his throat, pointing to his clock. He knew there was no way around meeting everyone else, so the faster this was over, the sooner he could be with you.

"I'll see you later," it wasn't a question, it was a statement, a promise. Nobody noticed his hand slipping into your bag when he hugged you goodbye. Nobody noticed how your keys and wallet disappeared into the big inner pockets of his jacket. He didn't do anything wrong, he wouldn't do anything with it, he would simple borrow it for a while, there was nothing wrong with that, right? "I hope so," you told him, sad that you had to part ways.

"Next," called the photographer, after handing you the printed out picture, the frame for it already awaiting you at home.

The interaction between the two of you still didn't answer you wether or not he remembered you. You never stood a chance with him anyway, he is a famous pro hero after all, he already said there was currently no time for someone serious in his life. That was until you sat in between the rather small crowd hanging on every word the heroes said while sitting on the stage. He revealed he had his eyes on someone. Your heart shouldn't hurt as much as it did, but you couldn't deny the feeling of your heart contracting.

The same way his did when he noticed you were gone. He had seen you in the crowd, waved at you when he went on stage, there was merely a tiny time frame of maybe ten seconds where his eyes weren't on you. Kirishima had to calm himself down, his erection growing harder by the minute, watching you wrap your lips around the wooden straw and thinking about how they would feel wrapped around him instead. He felt like fourteen again, mentally slapping himself for being turned on by something as simple as that, which definitely was a first for him. Those few seconds allowed you to slip away. Or at least you tried, considering you had no where to go without your car or money.

All he had to do to find you was walk onto the parking lot. Your cussing could be heard even from afar, telling yourself how stupid you were for not being more careful. "Everything okay?" his sudden appearance startled you and he almost felt bad when he noticed how defeated you look. "Oh, Eijiro. Yeah everything is okay, I'm fine," you brushed off, but the look of a lost puppy written across your face told him otherwise. "I'm not stupid you know?" he raised his eyebrows, leading you to a bench surrounded by small flowers, shielded by a big tree.

"Someone stole my stuff, I don't know how to get home. Also my phone died and my portable charger is in the car, so…“ you told him. A sigh left your lips as you looked at him through your lashes. "Y/N, that's really not a problem. I can drive you home, I'll talk to the organizer and security, maybe someone already found it and gave it to them or they will find it when they clean. It's not the end of the world, okay?," he laid his arm around you and pulled you into him, the heat radiating off of him calming you down. "Ki- Eijiro, that's really kind of you, but I can't-" you missed the flash of anger across his face. He won't let you turn him down. "I won't accept a no,“ before you could say anything he pulled out something from his pocket with a cheesy smile, hoping to lift up your mood.

"I still have your bracelet," he remembered. "You didn't forget about me," disbelieve was waved in your voice as you starred at the small object in his hand. "Never," red eyes took in every little detail about you, from tiny scars to anything that ornamented your face. "Come on, let's get you inside, it's getting a bit cold. I will talk to the staff and you can grab something to eat from our buffet," offered the tall man. He just wanted you to be happy, wanted you to feel save with him, wanted you to trust him. "Thank you," and you did, how could you not when he was basically a sunshine walking on two legs.

Whatever you offered, he declined it, telling you he had to go this way anyway. Which was the half truth, considering he should have turned right about twenty minutes ago instead of left. He just didn't want you to feel bad. Kirishima had asked you all sorts of thing, some more personal than others. Suspicious was the last thing he wanted you to be right now. It’s not like he didn’t care about your favorite color or band, but right now all he wanted to know was wether or not you’re seeing someone. You didn’t.

As you went to step out of his car Eijiro stopped you, asking for your number so he could text you if they find anything. You were more than happy to comply, smiling when he wished you a good night, texting you once he got home:

Meeting you again was awesome, I’m glad I have you back in my life :)

A week had almost passed and you found yourself texting the Pro Hero more and more. They found your belongings the next day, so Kiri offered to drop them by within the next few days. He had to find a reason to text you longer, had to build a relationship with you.

The red haired man send you a bouquet of flowers and a cute stuffed animal that reminded him of you after you told him your ex was found murdered. His body crushed like a grape. You had told you weren't really sad, he wasn't kind to you in the past, but it still didn't leave you unbothered. Probably got mixed up in a gang fight, his addiction wasn’t unknown and the case was quickly closed by the police.

Something he didn't want to find out while texting was that you were going on a date tonight. Everything between the two of you was going so great and now another man ruined it. You could have said no, but it wasn't your fault, you simply didn’t know any better. It was your dates fault for thinking he could try to take you away from him. Another reason why he had to keep you save from the outside.

He stood me up you texted him, feeling annoyed by the fact your date wasn't even mature enough to let you know it won't work.

I'm sorry. He didn't text you or anything? Of course he didn't, Kirishima thought to himself, watching the burning car. What a pity that his brakes didn't work. You should always check before you go somewhere.

No, nothing. He didn't even reply to my last message

Wait for me love, I'll be there shortly x

It was easy for him to get you to share your location with him. All he wanted was to look out for you, make sure you're safe when he isn't near you. The world is so cruel and you're his friend, that's all he had to say to you. Kirishima loved how naive you were just for him.

Usually you paid attention, don't give away too much, don’t give up the control you had with your surroundings. But it's different with him. He wasn't sure if you even noticed how much you trusted him, how easy it was for you to put your life in the hands of Red Riot. Misusing that trust would never pop into his head, he loved you for so long now, but he was scared he will lose you again. He might just has to keep you to him entirely. Would you let him? Or did he had to take you?

When he arrived at the luxurious restaurant his breath hitched in his throat as his red eyes landed on your gorgeous figure, clad in the most beautiful piece of clothing he had ever seen.

"Hey love," he greeted you, feeling your arms wrap around his torso, the smell of your perfume hitting his nostrils. "Hey Eijiro, you didn't need to come here. I could have just gone home and eat some take out," you explained, his hug around you tightening. It made you feel warm, not knowing his grip turned harder out of anger. Why would you always tell him about the things you could do without him. Every time he offered to be with you you would say no, tell him you didn't want to bother him. Did you not realize how in love he was? Or did you and you simply didn't feel the same? The thought of you turning him down made him even angrier, to a point of you squeaking out that you couldn't really breath. He apologized with a laugh, complimenting you. You didn't even got to say no after he told you to go inside again to have the date with him instead, as the tall man already pushed you through the door.

All he had to do was drop his name, a table ready within five minutes and an appetizer already awaiting you. As much as you would love to call this a date, you had to remind yourself that he was seeing someone. Never would you try and get between them, possibly destroying their happiness. His happiness. The sorrowful reminder of the two of you just being friend still stung. Even though you thought you had convinced yourself you only liked him as nothing more than that.

"They gave me your things by the way, they’re in my car. I would like to drive you home, is that okay?" he liked to give you the illusion of having a choice. "Are you sure? I can take the bus," you offered, knowing how far away his cottage was. "Nonsense, come on," he held the door open for you yet again, his eyes wandering to your beautiful ass that he would love to feel in his big hands, groping it and leaving his print in red on its flesh.

The car ride was filled with music and small talk, telling him about your day and your plans for the rest of the week and visa versa. When his fingers, draped over the shift gear, slightly brushed your thigh you shifted in your seat, turning your legs away from him. Kirishima's hand turned red, white spots appearing, caused by the tight grip on his shift. It almost cracked the leather and metal.

"So how are you and your... partner?" way to go, you thought to yourself. You knew a whole lot about him by now, but you have never talked about his sexuality. As far as you knew he could be gay. And because he never talked about the person he is seeing you couldn't just assume anything about them.

Why were you suddenly asking about Bakugou? Was he wrong about you? Where you like his last lovers? It didn't matter to him that they used him to get close to his best friend because he used them as well. But you? It felt like part of him died.

"Bakugou is just fine," his jaw was clenched and as much as he tried to keep his happy face on for you, the thought of you touching yourself to the thought of his best friend and not him? Craving Bakugou, wishing for his lips to be on yours, his arms wrapped around you, not Kirishima's. "Oh..." his eyes flickered to your face for a few seconds before returning to the road, seeing a surprised look painted on your face. "I didn't know the two of you were a thing! That's great though," while your lips were curved upwards your eyes didn't match. "What?" now it was his turn to be bewildered. "I mean, I heard the rumors of some fans shipping you, I didn't know they were true! Don't worry your secret's save with me," his body language told you how much he disliked the current situation and you didn't mean to push him.

"No... Wait. I am so confused right now. Why do you think I'm dating my best friend?" he asked you, turning into your street. Once you explained your train of thoughts his booming laugh filled the vehicle, relieve filling his whole body and feeling a ton being lifted off of his shoulders. „Oh, hahaha no. No, I'm not seeing anyone. What I meant at the con was- oh shit," the car stopped abruptly, his big arm immediately going across your chest to stop you from being pushed forward even with the seat belt on.

"Wha-" your eyes had followed his gaze, spotting whatever had him looking like he had seen a ghost. Your door was ajar and you spotted a cornice across your window from inside. It was dark but the street lights allowed you to see just enough. The shoe cabinet in your entrance was knocked over, jackets laying on the floor. The man next to you ordered you to wait in his locked car before he went inside, his quirk activated.

If the situation wasn't so dangerous your mouth would be watering at the sight of Red Riot in action. A breath you didn't know you were holding escaped your lips once he came back in sight. "Nobody is in there but I don't think it's save," his raspy voice told you as he opened your door, his hand finding place in the small of your back as you went inside. "You should pack your things and stay with me for a while, just so we're sure nobody is trying to harm you in particular," he let you know. "Why would anyone try to get to me? I don't have a useful quirk. My parents aren't rich, neither am I, I don't hold any power," you said, his hand stopping you from cleaning. "We should call the police. If you move anything it might mess up evidence on it," he knew what he was talking about, he had experienced these type of situations plenty of times. "Didn't your ex recently die? What if there is a crazy lover going around? Maybe he still owns someone money. You know you're save with me Y/N. I'm not that far away from you, your work is right around the corner, just a different direction," he saw a small part of you still hesitating to accept his offer, while another part of you wanted to be with him.

"I promise you, as long as you stay with me, nothing bad will happen to you," Kirishima would never let anything happen to you, never. He couldn't forgive himself if he let something hurt you. "That would be nice,“ you didn’t know the weight your words carried. It was like a modern Beauty and the Beast, only this time the Beast was already in love with his Beauty.

It worked :) Candy is send, should arrive soon.

It did, tastes delicious.

2k and a VIP pass to the next con was all it costed him to convince a small-time criminal he had caught before to break into your house and cause some chaos. Nobody was going to get hurt and he would never get in trouble for it promised Kirishima. And he would hold that promise dear to him. Because if that guy would get caught so did the hero, who had a lot more on the line. Which luckily for Eijiro that guy didn't think about much.

An hour later you stood in a huge entrance floor. Dark marble floors radiating warmth, caused by underfloor heating, welcoming the pacing of your feet as you slipped out of your jacket. "Eijiro, this place is beautiful! I might never leave again," you laughed to convey your joke. "You can stay forever if you want," as if you had a choice, he thought to himself, glad you liked your new home. He had renovated it a bit in the last week, making sure everything was the best of the best.

"Why don't you slip into something comfy? I'll do so too and then we can watch a movie if you like?" he offered and even though you felt tired watching a movie with him did sound like a great idea. He showed you around the house, explaining how Bakugo had helped with most of the interior design.

„I just don’t have an eye for that, but Katsuki? He’s brilliant,“ he explained, stopping at a wall covered in pictures. All of his friends had gifted him pics when he moved, so he decided to dedicate a wall to them. Pointing at a photograph of the two of you set off butterflies in your stomach. „That’s my newest addition, you look so beautiful here,“ Mina made that picture of the two of you, he had wrapped you in his jacket before walking back inside to talk to the security guards. (Y/e/c) eyes were fixed on him, laughing about a joke he made, his hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

„This is the bathroom, if you need anything, just call me. Conditioner and everything is in there, feel free to use whatever,“ Kirishima offered, laying out a warm towel for you after you asked to hop under his shower.

"Please don't laugh. I thought I grabbed a different shirt but I must have been a bit lost in my thoughts," you told him, feeling heat rising up in your cheeks. When going through your bag you were so sure you had grabbed a plain big shirt, but it turned out to be the one you had bought at the con. It's not like he didn't knew you were a fan, it was just weird to wear his merch in front of him. "I think it's really cute," the man clad in a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose red shirt patted the spot next to him, a drink and soft blanket waiting for you already.

He had been drawing spiral patterns all over your upper legs and while his eyes starred at the screen he didn't had clue what the movie was about as his brain was corrupted by thoughts surrounding you. Only when a sex scene on screen caused you to shift ever so slightly in your position did his day dreams falter. Whatever the people were doing before, right now he had trapped her in between him and the wall. His hand was around her throat while his knee gave her some sort of relieve and whispering dirty things into her ear.

"Thinking about me doing that to you princess?" he asked you sweetly, pulling your attention from the suddenly very interesting bottle cap. Kirishima's lust got the best of him, he couldn't hold back anymore. He had to have you in every way possible and as much as he wanted to wait, to get you used to everything, introduce you to the situation you still didn't knew you were in- he couldn't. "Hm?" you probably misheard him, you weren't really paying attention to be fair.

"I asked you," he grabbed your chin with his hand, thumb on your chin while making you look into his eyes. You hadn't noticed but his whole demeanor changed. His bright eyes now as dark as red wine, catching every movement of your muscles, his body tense, appearing like a predator ready to jump on its prey.

"If you think about me touching you?" Kirishima finished, knowing very well that you did. He almost fucked up a job because the sight of you touching yourself moaning out his name barely left him any piece of sanity. You had read a story about him, a very dirty one as well and fuck how wet you were, so needy and helpless, mind filled with him and him alone.

He couldn't bare the thought of you having any secrets, something he didn't know. Kirishima had to know everything, what you eat, your favorite drink, what type of gifts you appreciate, your favorite type of book genre, movie genre, what TV you liked to watch. Where you more of a dog or a cat person? Or both, maybe neither? What made you happy, what made you sad, how can he lift up your mood? It wasn't hard to get access to your laptop. Okay, well it was, but he had watched a friend hack into someone's stuff before, for another mission and remembered how to do it. Just in case. And oh my, you were such a good girl for him. Saved all of your passwords, your history, your Netflix, youtube, tumblr. Everything laid out for him, because you wanted him to find it, find out everything he wanted. He loved you more and more every second.

You were beneath him within seconds, his large frame towering over yours and trapping you. His warm breath was fanning over your face, eyes flickering between yours and your lips while a few strands of loose red hair fell into his face.

"Eiji-" as you attempted to sit up again he pressed your upper body down without any effort using his hand, feeling your heartbeat quicken. His sweatpants appeared to be much tighter all of the sudden and you couldn't help but peak down slightly, the sight of his dick print, revealing his impressively thick girth, the length hidden through the shirt he was wearing.

"My eyes are up here," he chuckled, face getting even closer. "Eijirou, I don't think we should do anything indiscreet," you told him, pushing yourself forward by your feet in a feeble attempt to escape. Only to have him flip you over on your stomach, one hand wrapped around your wrists and holding them above your head.

„Don’t fight it," he whispered in your ear, grinding down on your ass, enough to send pleasure through your whole body, goose bumps appearing on your skin. "We should-" you tried to form a complete sentence, but his lips on your neck were thwarting your plan, especially after they found your sweet spot.

"Hm?" he asked, peppering more kisses along your delicate skin, your senses heightening when his sharp teeth were dragged along it. His soft lips curled up into a small smirk as another moan hit his ears, before his teeth sunk into your neck. The scream escaping your lips was a something in-between pain and pleasure. And without a thought you had pushed your ass into him, your throbbing cunt begging for attention. Shame clouded your head as you came to realize how turned on you were by the currently obscure scene you had found yourself in.

"Do you want me to stop?" his tone let you know that there was only one right answer, his other hand slipping underneath you to tease you. The tip of his finger ghosted over your clit, earning a whine from your side. As you tried to push yourself down to create some sort of friction he pulled away, clicking his tongue.

"I asked you a question Y/N,“ his husky voice reminded you, kissing the fresh bite mark and caressing it with his sharp tongue. "No," you breathed, the lust your body felt in every inch betraying your mind, which was barely functioning at this point.

"Tell me you want me and I'll put the world to your feet," he meant it, all he needed to hear was that you wanted him, he needed, craved, starved for your acceptance of him as the man by your side. "Eijiro, I want you," you whispered, feeling hot and cold at the same time, craving his touch on you but also to disappear in between the cushions. Surely you had thought about this plenty of times but telling him, talking to him like that was new, unknown.

"Come on princess, don’t tease daddy and tell me what you want," he groaned into your ear, nibbling at its lobe. Rough hand groped your ass, kneading it, fingertips gliding across the swell, down between your legs, going all the way up only to skip the spot you needed him at the most. "I want you, please," he had heard you just fine the first time but he couldn't get enough of it, needed more.

"You can do better," he was more of a pleaser but now that he had you, he had to take his time with you, had to have you to submit to him. "Please Daddy, I need you, I want you," the pitiful tone of your voice surprised you, but the reaction of his body let you know just how much he liked it. It was impossible to miss the twitch of his length against you or feel his hands tightening, the sound of a heavy breath escaping his lungs.

Once again you found yourself facing him, being pulled onto his lap, on hand on your hips and the other one caressing your face. The grip on your chin wasn't harsh, just strong enough to keep you in place. His soft thumb stroked over your bottom lip, pupils dilated as he watched it bounce back in place and glistering from your saliva.

If he wasn't in love with you already he definitely would be by now. He didn't give you the chance to say another word as his lips came crushing into yours, molding together perfectly. It felt electrifying and intense, a kiss filled with passion and hunger. Wandering hands grabbed your ass and as a soft moan graced his ears he slipped his tongue into your mouth, tips colliding and swirling around one another. Kirishima pulled you closer to him as your hand went into his hair, the other one tugging on his shirt.

"So eager," he whispered against your lips, happy to comply to your wishes and pulling off his shirt in one swift motion, your eyes not knowing where to look at first. Your attention was quickly occupied again by his hand slipping under your shirt, going along your side, up to your chest while he once again interlocked your lips.

The moans slipping into his mouth as his thumb circled over your nipple were fuel on fire and as much as he enjoyed taking his time with you, he will have all the time in the world with you from now on. The big man had waited so ling for this moment, had dreamed about this situation, spend so many hours thinking about it during the day. His mind was filled with you as was his heart, how you laugh, how you talk, how you taste. Oh, he had to know how you taste and he knew if he waited one too many seconds he might destroy you with the lust inside of him.

Strong arms secured you as he stood up, walking over to his dinning table and sitting you down on it. „It would only be fair for you to get undressed too,“ Kirishima mumbled against your lips, hands already at the hem of it and pulling it up. A few curses fell from his lips as he saw that you weren’t wearing a bra under the shirt. Pushing you down gentle his lips landed on your neck again, kissing the slightly swollen mark. He couldn’t help it, the view was so hot, he had to give you another one. You’re his, only his, nobody will take you away now. Nobody can. And even if they dared to try he will rip them apart.

As the red haired man continues to work his way down, he stopped at your naked chest. While giving one nipple bites, kisses and soft flicks of his tongue, the other one got attention through his hands, pinching and circling them. The movements had you gasping for ear, your legs wrapping around him and pulling him into you.

„Daddy I need more,“ you whimpered, making him kiss the valley between your breasts, down your stomach, before he stopped above the only fabric left on you. Your underwear was discarded in a second, the sound of fabric ripping made you look at him. His ruby red eyes were fixated on your glistering cunt, licking his lips as the thought of your pussy on his tastebuds.

Taking a seat in front of you it looked like you were the dessert he had been craving for years, never finding the right one. But now here he was, ready to devour you and hear you moans, have you gush over him. „Legs over my shoulders,“ he tapped them, grabbing the soft flesh of your thighs as you obeyed his order. „Good girl,“ Eijiro groaned, kissing the spots close to your core before his lips finally met your clit.

The cunnilingus he gave you made you feel like you were send to heaven and back. His sharp tongue knew exactly what to do, knew where to be at the right time. Nails dug into your skin and you were sure by the end of it Kirishima’s marks would be prominent for the next week. The small amount of pain intensified your pleasure and the first orgasm crashed down on you faster than ever. You were hoping for him to give you a small break, your whole body on fire but he was far from being done.

Wrapping his lips around your sensitive spot he sucked slightly, pulling a sinful moan from the back of your throat which caused his rock hard dick to twitch in his grey sweatpants. Not yet, he thought, slipping a long, thick finger inside you, while lapping at your clit.

You didn’t expect to feel so filled by just two of his finger inside you. But it came to no surprise as just the palm of his hand is as big as your whole, two fingers as thick as four of yours. Two minutes, that’s how much it took to make you cum for the first time, moaning out his new nickname and pulling on his hair. Kirishima didn’t give you time to come, a break was the last he would think of in this moment. Before you knew it another wave of pleasure crashed down upon you, making your legs clamp down. Well, you tried, but he didn’t really had to try to keep them apart.

„Does that feel good? You like that?“ the question was rhetorical, your body had answered it long ago. Your fourth orgasm was about to hit anytime now as his mouth was glistering from your wetness, licking it all up. He wouldn’t really call it mocking, but it amused and aroused him at the time seeing you so fucked, not able to form a full sentence, yet alone answering his question.

And there it was. The knot in your stomach released itself, eyes rolling in the back of your head, a single tear sliding down the side of your face. Slurred words, a mixture of curse words, affection and his name made him feel as powerful as ever. He did this, only with his fingers and tongue.

„Tsk, would you look at that princess, you made a mess,“ was the first thing you heard after you came down from your high, the white spots slowly disappearing. With a heavy breath you looked down, watching as his cleaned his lower lip with his thumb before licking your juice off of it. Eijiro was right: he was wet, drenched even. Your lover made you squirt and the look of ecstasis written across his face was something you could never forget. „I’m sorry-,“ before you could say another word he pulled you up to him with his hand around your neck, locking your lips and pulling your lower body closer to him, allowing his now freed dick to slip in between your folds. Dragging it slowly up and down made you jolt and whine against his lips, trying to pull away as electric like shocks went through your veins, the pleasure overwhelming.

„That was the hottest thing I have seen. If I wasn’t this horny for you I would make you squirt again,“ he told you, chuckling slightly when he saw your eyes widening at the sight of his boner.

You knew he was big, at least nine inches, but it was his thickness that had you speechless. Without the foreplay there was no way he would fit inside of you and even now you knew he had to be slow at first or else you might pass out.

„Don’t worry, I will be gentle… At first,“ a small smirk graced his face, his tip now at your entrance. Laying down his soft sweatpants before laying you down he made sure you were laying comfortably. Thighs against his stomach, knees on his shoulders with his body towering over yours, almost touching but leaving enough space for Kirishima to look at him slowly slipping inside of you.

Drawing small circles on your thigh and clit helped soothing you as he went in inch by inch. He was taken by surprise when you pushed yourself onto him, taking in the last couple of inches at once. „So you want it that way huh? All you had to do was ask,“ with that he was lost in his own word.

His thrusts weren’t fast at first, they were hard, hitting your g-spot over and over and over again. Eijiro either went with a rhythm of song stuck in his head or did whatever felt right, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to stop. As quick as you put your legs down to lessen the immense pleasure, as quick he had both of your ankles in his hand, putting them over his right shoulder. Thick fingers caressing the soft flesh of your neck, feeling your pulse against the tip of his fingers, before wrapping around your throat completely. With the current position your pussy was even tighter, giving him the opportunity to hit deeper than before. Whenever he was balls deep inside of you wet slapping sounds filled the room, just like a mix of the moans of the two of you. Your scents mixed together, his room spray not standing a chance, even though your favorite smell hit your nose once in a while. What a funny coincidence, you thought later on.

„M about to cum,“ you slurred, a particular hard thrust sending you over the edge yet again, your throbbing cunt adding to his lust. „Who do you belong to? Who’s your daddy?“ He grunted, as his hips were snapping again and again. Your neck was released for a short moment to wipe away the few tears at the corner of your eye that just spilled over the edge.

„You, ah, you Eijiro,“ the o was quickly blending with yet another moan. If you didn’t know any better you would think he was a son of Eros. He definitely looked like a half god the way he was pounding into you, body glistering from the film of sweat and red strands of hair framing his face perfectly.

„That’s right, you’re mine. Only I can fuck you this good, only I can love you, only I can touch you,“ he said through gritted teeth, his possessiveness coming through. Kirishima could feel himself getting closer and closer to his own orgasm, dick twitching and hips titubating as your walls tightened around him.

„Mh, my good girl, just a little more, you can take it,“ you shook your head, feeling slightly dizzy and have one thought in your head: his name. There wasn’t even energy left in you to close your mouth properly. Something he saw as an invitation, his middle and ring finger slipping inside, your moans sending soft vibrations through them straight to his still hard length buried inside your cunt.

So many possibilities for him to cum on. You would look so pretty with his cum on your stomach, or when it drips from your face onto your chest. Your ass would look delicious that way too. One day he will find out what his favorite view is, but the first has to be special. He had to fill you up, mark your insides, had to make you his out and out.

„Let go, it’s okay. Daddy got you,“ finally. Your nails dug into his skin, vision blurry as your body started shaking from the last wave of pleasure for the night. He let go himself at the same time, pumping you full with his cum, a few lazy strokes following before he halted, his cock still inside you. Deep, shaky breath helped him come down from his dream like orgasm. Your pussy was magic, nobody could convince him otherwise. Maybe this won’t be your last time for tonight, maybe he will have you again once you laid down in bed. For now all he wanted to do was to hold you close, care for you and make you feel his love for you.

Pulling you into his strong arms he pulled out a bottle of water, taking a few sips himself before slowly letting the cool liquid hit your mouth and throat. Soft words of affirmation were whispered in your ear while he petted your head, massaging your scalp softly and kissing your forehead.

„You did so well for me baby,“ Kirishima mumbled against your lips, making sure you took another sip of water. You were still in bliss when he carried you to the bathroom, filling up the bathtub and sitting down with you between his thick thighs. While he was gently cleaning you realization hit him: Finally, after all this time you were with him. This wasn’t another dream. This was reality.

It broke his heart to see you cry the next morning when all the doors were locked. You told him you loved him too and you never would want to leave his side under no circumstances. He believed you, you would never lie to him. But the outside was too big, too scary for you. The intruder could still be after you and try to take you away from him. Kirishima knew you will forgive him eventually, after all he loves you and that should be enough for you. He is enough for you. You will understand eventually. He couldn’t risk loosing you again.

457 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

ain't it fun? | Part five

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: pregnancy, chronic illness, spencer's career chance - he's a high school teacher now, they have a 1-year-old, smut at the end but not graphic.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: I imagine this is in season 10, so they've been together at least 7 years-ish now, I just jumped well into the future because I wanted to! also, Cordelia's nickname is Edie and pronounced Ee-dee !!

P1 P2 P3 P4

“No.”

Spencer sighs, “are you going to like any of my suggestions?”

“When you give me a baby name that isn’t from some weird old male book character, then yes, I’ll take them into consideration,” she replies, hand on her stomach as she lays back against the pillows.

She was huge, 9 months pregnant and so, so close to the finish line. She was swollen and in pain and exhausted. Going off every single medication and recreational drugs to make a life was a commitment and a half, she was doing well but she was so ready to be done. To do a few more months of breastfeeding and then go back on her medications.

Spencer was terrific. He was googling and asking Penelope to research things, he had called doctors he knows and friends and did everything in his power to find a way to ease her pain even before they got pregnant. He’s taken the last 3 months off of work and he doesn’t know when he’ll go back. He has just been so, so incredible the whole time.

Naming a child was hard. You had to not only think about all the nicknames and what their initials spell, but you also had to think about how they’ll like it; if it’ll fit their personality and spirit. And most of all, is it going to get them bullied? There are some terrible kid names. Like Richard… how do you name a newborn Richard?

“I want something meaningful with a nice nickname and works with our names and her siblings,” she whispered towards him. “They need to all work together.”

“What are some of your favourites?” He asks, moving in closer and finding a way to cuddle in with her and her pregnancy pillow who has all but replaced him lately.

“I like earthy names, like Lennox, Juniper, Aspen, Elowen,” her voice is really soft, she bites her lip at the end as she thinks them over again. “And old things like Cordelia and Winnifred.”

“Which one sounds the best with Reid?”

“I like Cordelia Reid the most, and then we can call her Edie and I was thinking you can pick her middle name?” She’s been thinking about it for a while, but too afraid to know his opinions.

“Cordelia means core in Latin, which makes sense cause she already has my heart,” Spencer teased, he has made it very clear that their little girl is going to be spoiled, loved and a daddy's girl.

He took all his fears of being a bad dad and threw them out the window. He knew that just being there was all he wanted from his dad, and so that’s what he was going to do. He left the BAU for the time being, he was doing the odd lecture at the academy and answering calls for cases. They couldn’t just stop using his brain, there were some things too pressing to not ask the walking computer, but other than that, he was done.

He was looking into other jobs for when he finally decides to go back, he was unsure how long of a paternity leave he wanted. He was really content with just staying home all the time now, but he did miss going out and being useful during the days. The job he was most interested in, however, was a high school teacher.

A prep school in DC is looking into adding an Anthropology, Psychology and Sociology course to their curriculum, and they wanted Spencer. They thought he would be perfect for the seniors, he is fun and young and attentive, he can control a room and keep them entertained, and he’s probably the best teacher a kid could get.

It was going to make him a good dad too.

“I think Jade is a nice middle name,” he adds after thinking it over for a few minutes.

“Cordelia Jade Reid,” she says the full name for the first time and it just feels right, like they already know her.

—

She was very calm for a newborn baby.

She liked to just look around and blink, she licked her lips a lot and she was constantly breaking out of her swaddle. She was always happy to have cuddles with her dad and she pooped every night at exactly at 3 am, without fail. She didn’t cry a lot, but when she did it was still wonderful to hear.

They were so in love with her, she was absolutely perfect for them. She fit right into their sleeping schedule and their life, she ate like a pro, she slept most of the night and she was growing way too fast for their liking.

One day they’re crying over the fact they made a life in a tiny little hospital room, and the next thing they know she’s about to turn 1.

She’s sitting in bed with Y/N, she’s sitting in her lap with two handfuls of hair and a story to tell. She’s been babbling so much lately, she hears them talking all the time and she wants to join so badly. They indulge her, asking her to continue her thoughts and gasping at her gossip.

“No way, and what did you do next?!” She asked the little one sat in her lap.

Edie babbled on once more, smacking her tongue on the roof of her mouth as she pushed air past her vocal cords, humming and making the funniest sounds. She went on and on, she was so enthusiastic, like her father, as she waved her arms around to make her point.

“That is so fascinating, you are so cool, little Edie,” Y/N hyped her up, smiling at her as she leaned in close and pressed their noses together.

Cordelia laughed and it finally made Spencer giggle too, he had been watching from the doorway as his ‘wife’ and daughter talked in bed. They were best friends already, always talking and snuggling, learning or reading together. She was always happy when she was with one of them, she was needy and snuggly and very co-dependent but they didn’t mind, they preferred all the attention from her.

“Look who’s home,” Y/N whispered and Cordelia shot a glance towards the door, she smiled and screamed as she saw him.

“Hi Edie!” He waves at her with a smile, he takes his bag off and places it by the dresser followed by his blazer.

He gets into the bed and she instinctively reaches for a hug. He wraps her up and she snuggles right into his neck, with a fistful of his shirt, she just holds him there. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t home all day anymore, she missed him for lunch and at nap time but she loved the new routine of a snuggle when she woke up and he got home.

Spencer leans back against the pillows beside Y/N, turning his head to capture a kiss from her lips. They always just spend a quick second kissing when he gets home, even if it’s just a peck or a full-on passionate make-out, he always kisses her when he comes home. He smiles at the end of the kiss, pulling her into a hug too.

“I love Fridays,” he whispers, “Edie do you know what Fridays mean?”

She pulls away and sits up, she loves to listen to him. “Friday is the last day of the school week, which means I get to spend 2 whole days with my favourite people now.”

Edie smiled, almost like she understood what he meant, and then she was talking again, it was completely incomprehensible but they imagined she was telling him about her day.

“You forgot the part where we went to the park,” Y/N added.

Cordelia looked at her with wide eyes, “dada,” was the only word she said before babbling on again and they both stopped.

“Did she just?” Spencer was shocked and frozen still after asking.

Y/N sat up and looked right into Cordelia’s eyes, “who is that?” She pointed at Spencer.

“Dada!” She said it again and they were suddenly all squealing, even Cordelia was suddenly excited as she kept screaming dada over and over again.

“Can you say, mom? Or mama? Mummy?” Spencer tried his hardest to find an easy way for her to say it.

“Mumm,” she pushed her lips together to hum her M sound and Spencer was floored, he bounced her up and down a small amount as they cheered.

“Smartest girl in the world!” Spencer cheered her on before pulling her into another hug.

Y/N was crying softly, little tiny dreams that she didn’t even know she had were coming true every single day with them. She knew she wanted to be a mom when she was growing up, all those dreams died when her illness got worse and they all warned her that having kids would put her at risk of being moneyless and that working wasn’t an option to even support them. Let alone the threat of them taking them away just because of her autism or depression possibly being considered ‘too bad’ to care for them.

Spencer took all those fears and he kicked them out. Every day she got to experience the most precious gifts the world had to offer, her daughter was perfect and her husband was incredible. Together they were a perfect little family that ran on trust, love, and communication. Always talking, always hugging, always there for each other.

—

They crawl into bed much later than they expected to. Cordelia didn’t want to go to bed, she was trying her hardest to keep staying awake to spend time with them but eventually, sleep won. They finally placed her in her crib with her white noise and her complete darkness and closed her door for the next few hours of peace.

They both let out a deep sigh before rolling to face one another. “How was your day?” He asks, like always.

“Good,” she smiles, “I think having a kid and getting on her schedule was the best thing I’ve ever done actually, cause I’m sleeping on time, I’m eating when she does and I’m outside a lot more. She’s given me this purpose and it’s rewarding on my body.”

Spencer moves in so he can kiss her nose, “I love hearing that.”

“How was your class today?” She asks back, loving his little stories about all the 17 and 18-year-olds that were fascinated by him. As well as the kids who thought it was cool to try and pick on him before getting the shit verbally kicked out of them in front of the whole class.

It was interesting seeing him in a form of authority, he never really took charge at the BAU, she’s never seen him yell at his friends and he’s never really yelled at her either. He’s been incredibly calm, so to see him verbally tear someone apart by acknowledging their biggest flaws to make sense of why they feel the need to bully, it was pretty intense.

“They were a lot better today, they enjoyed the lesson and the kids that were giving me trouble skipped, I guess he really didn’t appreciate me calling him out that bad on Tuesday,” Spencer smirked, rolling his eyes like he cared.

“I still can’t believe that he thought it was okay to call you names in front of other students, where is the respect these days?”

“Well,” he’s about to do what he always does. He can never be truly mad at someone because he knows why everyone does what they do and that they can’t help it. “In his file, it says his parents are newly divorced, we get a list of all the kids information on the attendance like allergies and things, but also small info like life changes in case they act out.”

“Doesn’t mean he can call you the f slur,” she whispers, “all because you wore a purple shirt?”

“If I met his father I’d probably get an answer for that,” he adds, “if he’s afraid to show his emotions around his son, it’s probably why his son thinks colours are gay.”

It makes her laugh, “you look hot in purple too so I don’t see the problem?”

“Do I?” He teases, getting in even closer and pressing their bodies together.

She rolls her eyes before wrapping her arms around him and leaning forward for a quick kiss, “I think you look sexy all the time.”

He kisses her as a thank you, “I think the same about you.”

“Even when I haven’t showered in 2 days because she cries if she can’t see me and she cries if she gets wet?” Y/N laughed, annoyed but in love with their little monster at the same time.

“Always,” he reminds her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she kisses him again after.

There are probably a million more things to share from the day, but they spend their time kissing instead. It’s been too long since they’ve just rolled around in the sheets making out like they did in the beginning. Before they ever had sex, before they had kids and a house and a love as strong as they do now.

A part of them missed the early days when everything was new and exciting, but she also loved the fact that they knew each other so well that they didn’t have to communicate anymore. They ran like 1 unit, always completing the other person's thoughts, needs and wants. They were so unbelievably happy.

She wants him badly and he wants her just as much, and he’s about to take her when she pulls back. “Nope, as much as I love her I can’t get pregnant again for at least another year.”

It makes him laugh as he pulls away and rolls over to look through his nightstand for a condom, “it wouldn’t be that bad?”

“You carry it then, seahorse it up,” she teased. “I like being back on my medicine, I need some time to be okay before I go through all that again.”

Once he’s all situated in the latex and back between her legs, he hovers over her, so close that their lips are touching ever so slightly. “I am fine if it’s just the three of us forever.”

“I’m not,” she smiles, “there will be 4 of us one day, just not today.”

With that, she’s pulling him into another kiss as he pushing inside. It’s a feeling she’s accustomed to but will never be used to, it’s a stretch that shouldn’t be as intoxicating as it is. She holds him closer as she plays with his tongue in her mouth.

He was so good at everything he did, especially the sex. He knew every single part of her body now and exactly how to push all her buttons the right way. She could live in the moment of his pumping in and out of her while his thumb circled her clit and his other hand groaned her breasts. Eventually, he kissed down her throat and she was a mess of breathy moans and low gasps.

Writing in the sheets, her legs wrap around him as she tried to pull him in even closer. It was impossible to get closer but he was still too far away, she wanted to absorb him and live in him forever. He was her safe place and she never wanted to be anywhere else.

As her orgasm bubbled, so did his. The both of them gasping and panting, she whined as she breached the edge and gripped his back, “Spence!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered before fucking into her harder and faster, pushing her through it as he reached his own.

His movements on her clit never stopped and suddenly one felt like two and she wasn’t sure when the rush was going to stop and she didn’t care when it did. It was powerful, soothing and euphoric. A high she could live in for a while and return to it without problem as long as she had him.

He came with a small moan, trying to keep quiet as he muffled it into her neck, stilling his hips on his last thrust and dropping onto her more. Her hands were all over his back as she pressed kisses to his forehead, coming down but not wanting the love to stop there.

The love was never going to stop there for them. Their love was never-ending, and somehow as she held him there in her arms and felt his breath on his neck, she turned to see the baby monitor with their peaceful child sound asleep down the hall, she loved him even more now somehow.

Loving Spencer Reid was like falling down a bottomless pit. She never knew when she was going to reach the end, but she was content with falling.

smut taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun

157 notes · View notes

davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

What Are Your Dream Supermythos Projects?

* Put Fraction on that Webtoon thing for a Superman strip. He was talking about conversations with DC for post-Jimmy Olsen projects, this would need real talent behind it to not immediately die on the vine, and his formalist kick means he'd probably have the best chance of anybody in DC's rolodex at adapting to scripting for the vertical scrolling format.

* Have Yang and Reis continue their momentum with a The Life & Times Of The Son Of Superman miniseries. Someday somebody's gonna do 'here's Jon's whole journey in one book', they have the pedigree, and Yang's the best DC has in terms of who could nail the obvious central concept of Jon as a second-gen immigrant learning about his background, the forces he'll face in the world, and growing up to make different decisions from his dad about how to be a part of that world and how to help it.

* A proper Lois Lane ongoing, or at least her fronting a Daily Planet book.

* An anthology mini for Jon; I'm sure you could get plenty of creators interested in doing a few pages with their spin on Lois and Clark's kid across the assorted stages of his life.

* Okay so I just now started reading On A Sunbeam and yeah let Tillie Walden do literally whatever she wants with Superman if that would happen to be something she would care to do.

* An ongoing anthology for the Superman family ala Batman: Urban Legends.

* A Lois and Clark romance book from McKenna Jean Harris.

* Superman and Superboy meet All-Might and Midoriya.

* If Morrison is in fact consulting on the Superman books beyond doing the bare minimum to line up Authority, given PKJ is using the House of El already a big Superman Squad story based on the abandoned All-Star spinoff, since the ideas for the other two became Morrison's Action Comics and The Just.

* Once the current runs are done, give Action to Brandon Thomas and Son of Kal-El to Dan Watters.

* Sarah Leuver did some DC work so hey, give her a book to play with.

* Publish Superman & Lois: Ignition.

* I wouldn't have thought of Dan Schkade when thinking naturals for Superman, but after David Lynch's Superboy give him something stat.

* Someone somewhere do something interesting for once ever with Conner Kent.

* Give Maggin a Black Label book to do whatever he wants with.

* We're talking pure dream books, let Marguerite Bennett do a full Superman of Remnant spinoff mini or oneshot from RWBY/Justice League.

* An all-ages ongoing, good lord how long has it been

* Absolute Action Comics, with the assorted artists coming back to redraw the armor as the real suit.

* T-shirt Superman is out there wandering the multiverse, do a mini or oneshot or something with that guy.

* Mandatory 'whatever Doc Shaner, Al Ewing, Dan Mora, Jamal Campbell, Bilquis Evely, Christian Ward, Garth Ennis, Mike Huddleston, Tula Lotay, Chris Samnee, Jonathan Hickman, Fiona Staples, or Juan Ferrara would want to do with him'.

* In terms of pals nowhere near the big two I'd love to see get their shot anyway, Deniz Camp and Charlotte Finn.

* The heck with the AAA studios, do The Lego Superman Game.

* We're about to have Hoechlin, Jordan, Calle, Routh, Cavill, and whoever'll be in the Coates movie operating at around the same time, do a Superman Beyond movie.

* A big animated movie to go with Spider-Verse and Lego Batman. Maybe an anthology thing.

* Superman & Lois but moved to HBO Max and with Todd Helbing removed as showrunner. Really any prestigey ongoing Superman show, but I'd trade the prestige for keeping Hoechlin and Tulloch.

* An Adult Swim Jon Kent series aimed at older teens.

* Do the Tartakovsky short.

* More Superman novels! It's Superman! shouldn't have been a one-off in swinging for the fences there.

* Someone dig up/restore The Multipath Adventures of Superman.

#Superman #Opinion

140 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for.

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia

Pairing: Gen

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch.

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered.

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis.

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label.

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information.

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised.

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well.

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases.

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps.

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes.

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?”

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case.

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant.

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner.

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better.

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully.

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that.

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively.

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away.

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air.

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer.

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand.

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning.

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important.

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.”

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you.

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it.

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it.

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch & spencer #spencer #hotch #my writing #autistic spencer reid #autistic spencer #dad hotch

302 notes · View notes

intergalactic-padawan · 3 years

Note

Season 2 Ezra with a S/O who is super forgetful? (I’m an Ezra simp so get ready for many asks)

Relics - Ezra Bridger x reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: preprare for some strong feels if you catch the reference! It came to me in a dream and now you all have to deal with it. You're welcome.

A/N: It's no problem at all, please, fill my asks with as many ideas you want! Sorry this took so long as well, i wanted it to turn out really good but my teachers had other ideas. Hope you like it?

Pronouns of reader: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

-"And you did all of that just for one meiloorun?" - You look back at Ezra, guiding him through the packed streets of the open market in a strange planet Hera had landed to refuel, and he gave you a smile. Your question was very serious, though: there was no way that was really the origin story of the 'Commander meiloorun' inside joke he and Zeb shared.

-"Funny enough, that's exactly what that trooper asked" - you snort at his reply and stop at the front of a busy stand of off-world fruits, grocery list in hand and bag of credits at your side.

-"welp, hopefully this time we can find some that are actually avaliable for buying"

Their selection was truly impressive. Not just the stand, but the market as a whole: jewelry, souvenirs, toys, books and foods all found themselves mixed and admired by people who had to yell louder than their neighbour to sell something today.

Ezra continued with his story, examining the apples as you'd instructed him, but you only paid half-attention this time: something had caught your eye, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were that no one had found it sooner.

A genuine DC-17 hand blaster was sitting beautifully two stalls to the right of you. For the looks of it, it was genuine, at least. The sign also advertised it as such, so it was truly a wonder no one with the minimum of firearms knowledge had grabbed it before.

Ezra said something that vaguely sounded like a question beside you, and you nodded, absent-minded. He then handed his shopping bag to you - probably to be able to bend over the table and get a few kiwis from the back - but you didn't turn to him.

-"I'm going over there, take a look at something real quick" - you announced, but didn't wait for an answer before navigating the sea of people to meet the woman selling the blaster.

Firearms weren't reallly the only thing she was selling, you noticed. There were holo-shields, vibro-blades, shoulder paudrons, darts and- was that a kama?

-"It's a nice arsenal you've got here" - you strap Ezra's bag to your shoulder and carefully take the folded fabric to analyze its flexible leather. It was lacking a utility belt to secure it, but seemed to be in very good conditions for something that old; you notice how the style didn't match with any of the ones you'd seen mandalorians wear, much less one of the native fighters from Rotas V. Which means it must have been worn by a clone trooper of the old republic back in the Clone War.

-"It's a keen eye you've got" - the lady retorts, setting down her datapad -"but that's not a skirt, you know that, right?"

She looks amused, almost like she's testing to see if you know the real value of the things offered here. You've got to hand it to her, everything seemed legit; wich only makes you question even more how did she get those things in the first place. She stares at you for a few seconds and briefly reaches for something from below the small counter, placing it on top of a pile of restraining bolts.

It's a dark grey and blue kama, the same size as the one you're holding, though it seems like it has seen better days. The pattern's more detailed in this one: diagonal lines that meet in the middle, forming an arrow-like shape framed by a black seam. The colour reminded you of a worn-out shade of blue similar to the one Captain Rex uses to paint the last pieces of his armour - and you wonder if it's just a sad coincidence or probably the last remainings of a fellow soldier from the 501st.

-"Straight from Coruscant, my great-uncle got a hold of it few days before the Empire became... well, the Empire" - her tone was something you'd been told to avoid using in public when speaking of the Empire. Perhaps it was that courage that had gotten your full attention in the end. Was she with the rebellion in some way as well?

-"Hasn't been worn ever since it was stripped from a dead clone's body" - she continues, checking you up and down - "and maybe it's a bit more your style".

-"Looks decent enough" - you comment and she nods her head in aknowldedgement - "but it does raise the question: how and why are you selling these things... here?"

-"Well, for starters, it's harder to get caught out here. Some of these aren’t exactly... legitimate purchases, as one would say.” - you raise an eyebrow and she chuckles - “this is a legitimate business, I swear. It’s just that my family’s been having difficulties and we're having to sell some relics.”

You can see she's telling the truth as she takes back the kama you'd first grabbed to the side, folding it again. You reach for a different credit pouch out of your pocket: your personal credits.

-"I see. Well, I do need a new blaster, and this one looks like the best i've ever seen in months. Despite the clogged barrel, of course."

-"shall we start negociating a price, then?" - she takes the datapad back and types a few numbers. Before you can say anything, however, you turn back to see Ezra rushing towards you looking desperate.

-"Oh, thank the Force, there you are!" - he brushes the long hair out of his forehead, not sparing a glance to the lady behind the counter -"you just walked off! I didn't know where you were!

Faced with a confused expression from the both of you, he scowls

-"I was at the bathroom! You didn't hear me telling you to wait for me?"

You look at him, suddenly tuning back to reality. All of those relics seemed to have filled you with a melancholic sadness you didn't know, but you managed to snap out of it the moment Ezra came back.

-"Can't believe you forgot me just because of this old junk" - he grumbles, a bit offended. You take his hand into your own.

-"I didn't forget you, Ezra, I swear. I was just distracted for a moment, that's all" - you reassure him, placing some credits on the tray where the lady collected them.

-“I'll be taking this, please” - you take the purse back off of your shoulders and hand it back to Ezra - “you can start taking this back to the ship. I think the list is over, I'll just be taking this and go."

-"wait, Hera didn't tell you to buy this, did she?"

-"It's a personal purchase, with my personal credits. I think I'm allowed that much, right?" - you give him the money bag again, and he shoves in his jacket.

-"Well, can you at least get me something as compensation for forgetting all about me back there?" - you scoff and let go of his hand to slap him on the shoulder

-"Just go along Bridger. I'll be there in a minute"

You turn back to the vendor, who's placing the pistol in a bag with the holster that came along in a slightly larger bag ithan necessary. You also notice the shape of the folded kama peaking though it.

-"Wait, wait! I didn't buy that, I don't have enough credits for that!"

-"Just... consider it a gift" - she smiles and winks - "this specific piece here doesn't really fit anyone's style, anyway. It's better off with you, trust me."

Before you can mutter any type of 'thanks', Ezra calls for you again, making sure you didn't forget your own head back there. You run off to him without looking back, ready to smack him Zeb-style before taking his hand again, reminding him gently he'd never have to worry about being abandoned by you.

#ezra bridger fic #ezra bridger x y/n #ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger imagine #ezra bridger #sw rebels

54 notes · View notes

the-modernmary · 3 years

Text

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 4)

Chapter summary: The BAU makes it's plan to get inside your law firm, and you reflect on your previous relationship with Aaron — the good and the bad.

A/N: i'm baaaaack! this is a little bit of a filler with a hell of a lot of introspection + background on the past relationship with hotch

masterlist || read on ao3

'Cause the love that you gave that we made

Wasn't able to make it enough for you

To be open wide, no

-Alanis Morissette, “You Oughta Know”

~~~~~~~

The plan was simple enough. They had a warrant to bug the office, but lawyers are naturally suspicious, so they needed somebody who already had a rapport with partners to place the bugs. That’s where you came in. They were going to give you pens and other random office supplies with covert listening devices in them, and you just needed to leave them around. You were also going to wear an earpiece so that they could talk you through it every step of the way. Easy enough.

Aaron stood at the front of the room, his hands resting on his hips and his face stone cold. You had seen Aaron on television a few times when he had to speak to the media, but that was the extent of your knowledge of his FBI persona. You had never given much thought to his work life, and the only times he even talked about it was in passing. Watching him completely command the attention of the room was really a site to behold. Suddenly, you understood all of Aaron’s career changes and his unbridled ambition- he was made to be FBI Director.

You nodded slowly as you listened to their plans, trying to ignore the side of your brain that was screaming danger. You looked over at Aaron, hoping that he would understand your unspoken question and would give you an honest answer. When he met your eyes, he gave you a subtle nod, as if to say You’ll be fine, we’ll be right there with you. That was the only confirmation you really needed. Aaron looked so confident that it was almost infectious. Besides, a dead civilian wouldn’t look very good on Aaron’s FBI record, so you had to believe that it really was going to be that simple.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, I can do all that. I’m scheduled to go in this afternoon,” you told the room, avoiding everybody else’s eyes on you. You could tell that some of them weren’t totally sold on the idea yet.

“Good, that gives us just enough time to get everything set up. I want you all to go over the office blueprints with Y/N and set up a concrete plan. I don’t want anything left up to chance. While you do that, I will head down to intelligence with Garcia so that we can grab the coverts and prepare them,” Aaron said firmly, and you found yourself nodding along, as if you were a member of his team.

The way he gave orders was almost hypnotic because it was so different from the way he gave orders during sex. When he was with you, there was always a hint of affection and reverence in every word he said. Here and talking to his coworkers, it was almost paternal, like he was assigning weekly chores. You were getting a more full picture of who Aaron Hotchner was, and it was exciting, if not a little overwhelming.

You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of ruffling papers as Reid spread out the floor plans to the office across the table. The next hour and a half was spent going back and forth with the group of profilers to see what the best course of action was. You let them take the lead considering you had zero experience in this particular field, but you were pleasantly surprised when they asked for your opinions, asking you whether or not anybody ever went in certain areas in the building. Working with them was easy, even with David Rossi clearly psychoanalyzing every move you made, probably trying to figure out how the hell you and Aaron fit together.

After figuring out the best excuses to get in each of the partner’s offices, the team had decided that you were prepped and ready. “You’re welcome to grab some lunch in the cafeteria on the second floor,” Reid told you as the rest of the team was slowly filing out of the conference room. “But the food’s not great, to be honest. The only people who ever really eat there are tourists and kids on field trips.”

You raised an eyebrow at him as you shouldered your purse. “With all that security, the FBI has tour guides?” you asked amusedly.

Reid nodded eagerly as he finished folding up the blueprints. “The FBI has actually had a tour component since 1937, even before it settled here in the Hoover building. After 9/11, they stopped the tours and closed the building to the public and didn’t reopen until 2008 when the FBI made the Education Center. It closed and was redesigned multiple times since then, and now it’s known as the FBI Experience. You have to contact your congressman to request a tour at least four weeks in advance so that the FBI can do a background check,” he said quickly, his hands doing half of the talking for him.

You laughed as the two of you made your way to the door. Aaron had mentioned something about the genius Dr. Reid in passing, and he was just as amusing and endearing as Aaron said he was. “That sounds like a lot of work. If that’s the case, then I might have better luck just asking one of you to give me a tour after this whole thing is done. You sound like you know more than the tour guides anyways.”

Reid stood up a little taller at the compliment, but your focus was immediately drawn to Aaron’s office. Specifically, Aaron, in his office, alone, with the blinds shut and the door wide open. You had promised to be on your best behavior, but the temptation was almost too much. You wanted to see more of Hotch, the FBI agent. “Excuse me for a second, Doctor,” you mumbled, flashing him an innocent smile.

Spencer gave you a small wave as you walked off, headed straight for Aaron’s office, your heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. As if sensing your presence, Aaron’s head shot up the second you stepped into his office, his face void of all emotions. You shut the door slowly behind you, having to hide your smile when you saw him shift in his seat nervously. “Y/N, this isn’t the place-”

You held both of your hands up as you made your way towards his desk. “Don’t worry, Agent. I didn’t come here with the intention to seduce you in front of all your coworkers,” you promised. “Although that can always be arranged.”

You were rewarded with a small grin from Aaron and something that was close to laughter, although it just sounded more like an exhale. “How can I help you?” he asked, unable to mask the lightheartedness in his words.

You sat on the edge of his desk. “Well, I’m going to be rubbing shoulders with a potential serial killer for the rest of the day. Don’t I get a kiss for good luck? Doesn’t even have to be a kiss on the mouth,” you teased. Aaron tensed up. That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Maybe he remembered that he was at work, and there was no room for playfulness in the FBI. Or maybe he realized that you would be the second woman he’s been with that he’s sending into a dangerous situation.

This was all new territory for the two of you. Previously, there were so many unspoken rules for the relationship, and that’s what made it work. It kept everything easy and fun and none of you had to sift through any baggage.

He didn’t talk about cases he was on and you didn’t mention Jack or Haley- not that you would even want to. He would order dinner for the two of you, but it couldn’t be from anywhere he used to take Haley. So that took away their Chinese place and their pizza place and, God forbid, their Italian place they went to for anniversaries- you preferred Indian anyways. Every once in a while, you’d meet up in hotels that were way too nice and expensive for a fling, but it was always somewhere out of the city, like Baltimore or Fredericksburg, because between the two of you, somebody in DC was bound to recognize one of you.

But there you were, sitting on his desk in the middle of the FBI headquarters, completely thrown off your game. Part of you wondered why he had wanted to continue this thing with you. It wasn’t some midlife crisis- he was too composed for that- and it wasn’t to help heal heartbreak the way it was two years ago. You weren’t complaining about it, though. There was something addictive about Aaron, something that made you think about him even when you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months, and a nagging voice in the back of your head told you that he probably thought the same thing about you. At least, you hoped he did.

You were so entranced in your thoughts that you didn’t even realize he was talking to you. You refocused your eyes and snapped your head back in his direction, where he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. “Hm?” you questioned.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, like he was trying to read your mind. “I asked if you were sure that you’re ready for this? You all came up with a plan faster than I expected.”

You put on a practiced smile as you slid off his desk, careful not to rustle any of the precariously stacked files next to you. “What can I say, I’m a fast learner. Plus, I went through a major James Bond phase in 7th grade, so this is like a dream come true for me,” you joked, and that seemed to satisfy him.

His face softened, and you once again found yourself fascinated by how much younger he looked when he let himself relax for even half a second. “It’s going to be fine, and I’m going to be talking to you through the earpiece the whole time,” he said. It surprised you just how comforting that single sentiment was, but something about Aaron walking you through the whole process made it less daunting.

Casual flirting with him had worked at the beginning of the conversation, so you decided to try that again. “It’ll be like you’re whispering in my ear all day,” you mused, batting your eyelashes. “That’s kind of sexy, in an exhibitionist kind of way.”

Aaron chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Behave,” he told you firmly, but there was the slightest hint of playfulness.

You made your way towards his office door, throwing a wink his way as you did. “No promises,” you sang. “But I’ll do my best.”

After grabbing something to eat at the cafeteria- Reid was right, the food was terrible- it was time for you to head to the weirdest internship shift you’ve ever had. Most of the team would be in an undercover van outside of the building so that they could listen to everything. You were able to get a ride from Morgan in one of the FBI SUVs, which would drop you off a few blocks away so it didn’t look suspicious. The two of you made some small talk on the way, asking about school and life at the FBI, all very surface level stuff, but nice nonetheless. It helped calm your nerves.

After a while, he pulled over and handed you a bag from the backseat. It was a simple black satchel, not very different from the usual one you would bring to work. “Okay, here is everything you’ll need. You remember the plan, right?”

You nodded quickly as you put in the earpiece, trying to hide any signs of nervousness. “Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. “Honestly, this isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done while working.”

Derek chuckled, maybe despite himself. “Remember, we’ll be right outside of the building. Just treat it like a normal day.”

You didn’t think that was even going to be possible, but luckily, you were proven wrong the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“Woah, hold the door for me!”

You stuck your hand out quickly just before the elevator doors closed, and your friend Chris came barreling through. He was a third year when you were a first year at George Washington and the two of you met in your tax law class. You quickly became fast friends, and you met most of your law school friends through him. When he got hired as a staff attorney at the same firm you were interning at, you couldn’t have been more excited.

You clutched the satchel a little tighter, knowing full well that the entire BAU was about to hear this conversation. “Hey,” you said, your voice light.

Chris just raised an eyebrow at you. “Hey?” he asked incredulously. “That’s it? What the hell happened to you last night? We were all supposed to go out and you didn’t show up. No phone call, nothing. And then the only response we got from you was three hours later when you just said ‘Sorry, something came up, next time!’”

You sighed and reached over to press the button for the third floor. It was crazy to think that the interrogation had been less than 24 hours ago- it felt like a lifetime to you. Aaron’s voice came through the earpiece. You can’t tell anybody about the investigation. Make an excuse and change the subject.

“Sorry, mom,” you huffed, staring at the elevator doors. “I got busy, and I’m not attached to my phone all the time like a certain newlywed. How are you and Sam, by the way?” You looked at Chris pointedly with that comment and, like expected, he was frantically shoving his phone back in his pocket. Chris had gotten married two months ago and was still very much in the honeymoon phase.

Good job, Aaron said into the earpiece, and it made you smile despite yourself.

Which, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by Chris. He narrowed his eyes at you for a few seconds before gasping. “You’re deflecting! And I know that smile.” He thought about it for a second before his eyes went wide. “Oh my god, you ditched us last night because you were getting railed.”

Your friends knew you way too well. You rolled your eyes at Chris. “Wow, that is a reach if I’ve ever seen one.”

The elevator doors opened and you all but sprinted out of there. “You’re not denying it!” Chris accused and you had to bite back a groan of annoyance. You loved your friends, but you did not want to have this conversation right now. “Come on, spill. What is their name?”

You heard Aaron take a sharp intake of breath. You weren’t going to tell Chris, even if you weren’t currently wired where all of Aaron’s coworkers could hear. You never told your friends about Aaron because you were worried about their reaction. They would have worried about his age, or if he was taking advantage of you, or if you were in any danger because of his job. They would have pressured you to pursue more of a “true” relationship with Aaron, and you weren’t going to pretend like that was even a possibility.

You liked Aaron, and it really seemed like Aaron genuinely liked you, too, just not in a way that would make sense to people, especially not your friends. Aaron was always nice to you. He treated you like an equal, not just some random college girl he was sleeping with. He was interesting, and being around him was easy. Aaron would invite you over sometimes and the two of you would just do your work while eating take out before you would have sex. Sometimes, you’d ask him for help with your homework, because there really wasn’t any better tutor, and he was happy to give it. At the time when you first met, the two of you were just kind of lonely, and it was nice to have somebody around who just got it.

You also liked the version of you that Aaron brought out- smarter, wittier, and even a little bit more put together. Definitely much more ambitious. And if seeing him at work was indicative of anything, you thought that he liked the version of himself that you seemed to bring out- more easygoing and playful, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And also, yeah, the sex was really fucking good.

You sped up your steps, but Chris was right at your heels. “You’re such a chismoso, but fine. His first name is nunya, last name business.”

You heard him groan behind you, and you turned around so that you were walking backwards. “Y/N, you suck so bad. This is going in the group chat, and we are going to find out who you’re sleeping with.”

You laughed, finally feeling relaxed and calm for the first time since you heard about this plan. “Mhm, good luck with that,” you called to him. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to get to work. Not all of us get paid to sit around and look pretty.”

“Yeah, you just get college credit for it,” he snorted and you just turned back around. You were sure you were going to get so much shit from your friends later, but the bag on your shoulder was getting heavier every second.

Placing the listening devices was as easy as they told you it was going to be. You were able to go throughout your shift fairly normally, sitting through meetings and writing emails, mostly. If you needed to get into somebody’s office, you would just tell them that they needed to sign something or ask them if they wanted any more coffee. The only times Aaron would say something into the earpiece was if they couldn’t get a signal on the device and you needed to move it slightly.

When it was time for your break, you flipped your phone over in your hands a few times, debating on whether or not you should text Aaron. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to hear him moan in your ear while his hands roamed every inch of you. You desperately wanted his mouth on you, his head in between your thighs. You could imagine Aaron on top of you, brushing your hair from your face, and telling you how pretty you were. Maybe you’d text Aaron later, when he wasn’t in a cramped van.

“Y/N?” You snapped your head up to see a woman you knew to be Julian DuPont’s assistant. DuPont owned the law firm, and he came from a very rich and powerful DC family. He was the whole reason that the FBI couldn’t just sneak in and bug the office themselves- he would be suspicious about anybody he didn’t personally know. Even having been an intern at the law firm for almost an entire year, you had only spoken to him one-on-one a handful of times. Sure, they were all positive experiences, but you knew he could lie to almost anybody.

“Yes?” you asked cautiously.

She gave you a sweet smile. “Mr. DuPont has asked to see you in his office right away.”

Your mouth instantly dried up and your heart started to beat so fast that you would have sworn everybody could hear it. “Uh… Yeah, of course, um… Did he happen to say what it was about?” you stuttered out. He was the first office you had placed the bug in. Maybe he found out and was about to fire you in front of everybody. Or worse, your brain supplied unhelpfully.

The assistant shook her head and guided you wordlessly to DuPont’s office. Stay calm, came Aaron’s voice through the earpiece. I will tell you everything you need to say if you get stuck, but you’ll be fine.

When you got to the office, the assistant close the door behind you, leaving you alone in the office with Mr. DuPont himself. He gave you a warm smile, which should have comforted you, but you didn’t think you had ever seen him smile for anything not related to winning a case or getting money. “Sit, please,” he ordered, gesturing lazily to the chair in front of his desk.

You tried to keep your breathing even as you sat down quickly, rubbing your hands on the tops of your thighs. It felt like you were in the principal’s office. You stayed silent so that he could have the first word.

“As you may know, I’ve been watching your progress very closely, both here and with your professors,” he stated, leaning forwards in his chair. “You’re very intelligent, and I think you have a bright career in front of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, trying to put as much confidence in your words as possible. There was a ‘but’ coming, you felt it. You could vaguely make out mumbling in your earpiece, like the BAU were trying to profile what Julian was going to say half a second before he said it.

DuPont straightened out a pen on his desk- to be specific, the pen with the listening device in it. Your breath caught in your throat. “I would like to capitalize on that potential and have you work here after you’ve graduated, but I need to see how you do in an actual courtroom. Law students are allowed to practice law under the supervision of an attorney, which would be me. If you do well, and you pass the bar, you’ll have a job here as an associate right after graduation. Think of it as a trial run, or a try-before-you-buy program.”

You let out a sigh of relief, not even caring how dramatic it may have looked to Julian, and you closed your eyes for a second just to ground yourself. He didn’t know, it was just a job offer. The secret was safe. The earpiece went silent again. “Sir- I… Thank you so much. I would love to, of course. It would be an absolute honor.”

DuPont nodded and leaned back in his chair. “That’s good to hear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to. We will discuss this more at a later date.”

You shook his hand quickly before exiting, your heart pounding. You were going to need a drink, or five, tonight. Maybe it was stupid, but part of you wanted to hear something from your earpiece. It didn’t even need to be Aaron speaking, but you wanted somebody from the BAU to remind you that everything was okay.

Ignoring the questioning look from Chris, you sat down at your desk, attempting to process everything that just happened. Once the adrenaline went down, you let yourself get excited. A job offer, and a nice one at that, at a fancy private firm with a nice salary. You were set.

You grabbed your phone so that you could send the news to your friends, but a notification caught your eye.

From: Aaron Hotchner

Congratulations, associate. I told you that you’d make a wonderful lawyer someday.

To: Aaron Hotchner

Thank you :) You know this means I’m going to practice my opening statements on you all the time, right??

From: Aaron Hotchner

I’m looking forward to it.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #my best habit #my writing

82 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 4 years

Text

The Vines that bind us - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous Ladybug or any DC characters. I own only the plot, and even that is inspired by the amazing story "Marigold Ivy" by @lwandile13 on Wattpad. Go check it. It's great. He allowed me to take some inspiration, for which I'm grateful. Also, don't translate the french words maybe. Or at least do it on your own responsibility. Big thanks to @Liza! on Discord for being my Beta :)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a normal girl, with a normal life. But she had a secret. Her real name was Marigold Isley. She was born under that name in Gotham city sixteen years ago. Her mother never revealed to her who was her father, but Mari never cared. She was happy with her mom and several aunts and uncles. Technically, none of them were related to her by blood, but Rogues were quite close to each other (excluding some outcasts like Joker or the Menagerie). They taught her many interesting things such as lockpicking, stealth 101, or hand-to-hand combat. She was five when it started, so her first-ever practical test was breaking into a kitchen cupboard and stealing a jar of cookies. Overall, she was very happy.

It changed when she was eight. One very tired social service person named Elizabeth Barrow got wind of a child of a villain. That Elizabeth was new to Gotham after being reassigned from Metropolis and didn’t yet get the wind of how things worked. Maybe her colleagues didn’t like her, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the problem in Gotham. Previously, there was an unspoken agreement in the government that they wouldn’t notice Marigold. In exchange, rogues were calmer. Or at least tried to keep the death toll down. For a time, Gotham even started to slowly heal. But then, Elizabeth took the case of Marigold Isley. Ivy tried to fight. To protect her daughter. For three days, the city was held hostage by giant plants. It was only the fear in her daughter’s eyes that made Poison Ivy relent and let go. She didn’t want that life for Marigold. The one condition she gave was that the girl would leave America as a whole, to ensure she would be safe from all the madness.

And so Marigold ended up in the care of baker’s couple in Paris. She never showed any powers thus far and the adoption agency kept the parentage a secret. That’s when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born. She continued with martial arts training and stealth training, but now only as fun and reminder of her mother and extended family, as opposed to actual necessary survival tool. She also picked up designing as another hobby, which soon turned into a kind of obsession. She was generally a ray of sunshine.

The one black spot in the happy world of Marinette was the Mayor’s daughter. Chloe Bourgeoise considered herself above others and just couldn’t stand sunshine girl. She ruined her clothes, sometimes damaged her homework, or verbally assaulted her. While Chloe was generally disliked, she was more of a nuance. Overall, Marinette was happy. At least until two events changed that.

When she was twelve, Paris was attacked by Hawkmoth for the first time. Marinette found herself becoming Ladybug, a superhero with magical powers that protected the city from harm. She received a partner in form of Chat Noir. It took some time before she got hang of it, and then more time before she and Chat became an actual team. Over time, more heroes joined them, even if temporarily only. She had people she could count on. She became Happy again.

Privately, she started her own brand: MDC, managed to become a class representative, and became best friends with Alya, who joined around the same time she became Ladybug. It was quite ironic. The superhero was best friends with one person whose greatest dream was to unmask the hero. Marinette also developed a huge (and a bit unhealthy) crush on Adrien Agreste, a famous model who was in her class. She spent years vying for his attention, but nothing ever came from her attempts. She was unable to even say a word around him and her face always became red like her mother’s hair. Overall, she couldn’t complain.

Then, when she was fifteen another black spot appeared. It was Lila (Liela) Rossi. She came to their school and immediately started sporting lies with every breath. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to buy into that, believing her like she spoke the gospel. Everyone but Marinette. She tried to expose Lila, but it only backfired. She became an outcast, disliked by everyone, and universally hated. Suddenly, it became okay to bully her because she was a bully herself and deserved it. It became okay to shun her and no longer include her in anything. The worst was Alya, her former best friend. At first, she just tried to nudge Marinette to give Lila a chance. When Marinette tried to show the truth, Alya practically attacked her. She was just as much responsible for Mari being cast out as Lila was. The fact that her best friend abandoned her only fueled the gossip and allowed Lila to drive the final nail in. In the span of a few weeks, Marinette was left alone.

Around the same time, Chat Noir became more persistent in his pursuit of her while Adrien, who Marinette knew was aware of the lies, was only telling her to keep the high road (do nothing). She could understand him. As a famous model and son of a well-known fashion designer, he was always taught to not provoke the press. It still served as a wake-up call on her crush.

--------

Marinette was packing her things after lessons when she noticed someone approach her from behind. Immediately, she tensed. After eleven years of martial arts practice, it was an instinct. Before she had time to turn around, something heavy landed on her desk with a loud Thud!. She turned to see Chloe standing over a large book, a single thick envelope, and a puffy bag that content Marinette couldn’t guess.

“What’s a…” She started, but Chloe cut her off. She had her usual ‘resting witch’ expression.

“The book contains every single instance I verbally assaulted you, destroyed something of yours, talked about you behind your back, or in any way otherwise did something wrong toward you. Here are the materials for the damaged clothes,” she pushed the bag toward her, “and here is money for other things.” Chloe gave her the envelope. “I apologize for all of that. I was jealous of all the attention you kept getting even though I thought I deserved it. I now realize that my behavior was wrong and hurtful. I will understand if you’ll never speak to me again. I kept acting ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” With that, she turned and started to walk again. Marinette idly noticed that there was no Sabrina nearby. Thinking back, Chloe was no longer acting (overly) mean toward anyone as of late.

Making a split-second decision, Marinette raced after the blonde and pulled her into a hug.

“Wha…” Chloe yelped before sinking into the hug. Neither girl realized they were crying until they finally separated. Blonde had her lite make-up in total ruin while Marinette had tears still going down her cheeks. “Does that mean you accept my apologies?”

Marinette didn’t answer immediately. She stood there with open mouth for a moment before smiling weakly. “Yes, Chloe.”

Since that day, they were best friends. It turned out to be a blessing. Chloe, once she finally allowed someone to truly know her, turned out to be a highly intelligent, funny, and very much still overbearing person. She still acted high and mighty, but it no longer felt mean, rather just… felt. She took to defending Marinette from the rest of the class. She was aware of Lila’s lies from day one but never acted on it until it was too late. Sabina abandoned her for the liar. Dealing with loneliness was hard on her. She didn’t even have parents that cared. Her father would probably move sun if she asked, but he had an emotional range of a toothpick. Her mother didn’t even know her name, so she didn’t bother.

Something about their friendship must’ve upset Lila because the girl upped her game. Marinette’s parents suddenly found themselves facing strong critique and constant inspection from the sanitary department and child protection questioning their parenting abilities. MDC, who was slowly becoming one of the go-to fashion designers for famous found herself in the middle of several fake media scandals, including one lawsuit over defamation. If it wasn’t for Jagged Stone and Penny rallying her customers, Marinette and her parents would end up broke. He managed to save MDC and practically made her untouchable. Still, Alya and Lila got off scot-free as nothing could be linked to them.

Perhaps what pushed Lila over the edge was Chloe confronting Adrien. She yelled at him for good two hours straight about responsibility and morality, pointing in detail exactly what he did wrong. She would probably go on if Marinette didn’t stop her. After that, Adrien finally apologized and tried to make things right, but it only turned against him. By then, Lila had everyone so deep into it, that he was powerless. She didn’t go after him as her partnership with Gabriel Agreste was too important, but she did tattle to the Fashion Mogul about it. Gabriel tried to get his son under control, but this was one thing that he couldn’t achieve.

It did inspire a whole youth fashion line ‘rebel’, which became a global hit.

All this time, Marinette kept two secrets. One was her identity as Ladybug and the guardian, the other was her true name and family. Until she kept neither.

----------

Marinette returned home after another day at school. Recently, her mother revealed she was pregnant with another child, even though she was believed to be barren. Everyone in the bakery was overjoyed and the couple even started to hand out small treats to any guest that came. The free samples helped the business return to a better standing.

When she entered, strangely there was no sound in the bakery. It was empty. Usually, her parents would both be very busy as it was still business hours. Slightly worried, she went upstairs. When she entered the living room, she found an envelope addressed to her.

Isley

We tried, but we can no longer tolerate you. We turned a blind eye when we learned how improper you act, trying to drag every boy you meet for some, and we quote, “alone time”. We didn’t react to the bullying accusations, believing them to be overexaggerated. Even when you were expelled, we still had hoped you’ll turn out into a fine young lady. But now, we must think of the baby. Today was the last straw. Hearing about how you ruined that poor impaired girl’s birthday was both cruel and against everything we taught you.

We held hope you won’t follow in your mother’s footsteps, but you proved us wrong several times. We supported your obsession over fashion, even with the drama it caused, because it was actually non-violent. At first, we didn’t want to teach you how to fight, but we convinced ourselves that you would have a way to vent the emotions somewhere away from us.

Please, don’t try looking for us. We will probably have already left the country or even the continent. The bakery is yours. We don’t want to have anything to do with the spawn of evil such as you.

We hoped you would turn out better

Sincerely,

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng

Marinette tried to read it over and over again, but her eyes welled with tears. She had no idea she was screaming until her throat was coarse. Rationally, she knew she needed to keep calm or she would attract the Akuma, but emotions made her not care.

Unknowingly to her, the plants all around Paris responded to her cry. They started growing and spreading, trying to get to their queen and comfort her. The Akuma that would’ve come for her stumbled into one of the vines, corrupting it. Hawkmoth was surprised, it was not something anyone ever seen in Paris except on TV or some strange Japanese shows that play after midnight. The more important thing was that even though he akumatized the plants, he had no control over them. He couldn’t even recall his Akuma.

Back in Marinette’s living room, she started to feel the ground rumble. Soon, plants exploded from the ground and broke windows. She slowly looked at her hands to see them tinted with green. They were not the same as her mother’s, but close. She looked to the floor where pieces of glass littered everything. Her face was the same, but her hair became blue and her eyes were now the most vibrant iridescent green she’s ever seen, exactly the same color her mother’s eyes were.

She started to panic even more. Tikki floated next to her, talking to her, but Marinette couldn’t hear her. Or maybe process it. She could hear the plants call to her. She could hear them speak. They promised her revenge. They promised retribution on those who attacked her. God’s wrath would rain upon them from the sky and hell’s fury would consume them from beneath.

Impaired girl…

“Liar Rossi.” Marigold seethed. She knew there was only one person who would do such a thing. Only one talented enough to convince her parents she was a villain. If they wanted a villain, they would get one. Her mind was being clouded. Her clothes were already torn, replaced by a skintight outfit made of leaves, much like her mother wore. Then, Marinette remembered another part of the letter. She added a skirt made of purple petals that complimented her blue hair nicely and long sleeves that reached to her hands, ending with a triangle that reached her middle finger and surrounded it at the base. She left the decolletage as it was.

Exiting her house, she allowed the vines to carry her. There were only so many places The Liar could hide. First, she went toward School, as it was closest. She made plants carry her over the roof right into the courtyard while more of them broke the doors and blocked any exit. The fencing class was still going on, but The Liar was not there. She looked over the scared crowd, spotting two people she wanted to find. She needed to protect them from The Liar, else they end like her. She grabbed the fencer in a red outfit and her partner, knocking their masks to reveal Kagami and Adrien. The plants wrapped around them, forming a sort of cocoon before dragging them to the heart. Marinette then turned her sight to Eifel tower. She knew The Liar liked to drag the class there.

As she moved through town, she passed the Hotel where Chloe lived. Pausing, she made the plants lift her toward the balcony. Her best friend was indeed there, right next to the lit-up Bee-signal. Honeystly…

“Marinette!?” The blonde jumped in surprise

“Marinette is gone. She should’ve never even been. I’m Marigold, the daughter of Poison Ivy.” For a moment, the fog thickened, but Mari shook it off quickly enough, before whatever caused it managed to get the hold of her.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! If you got yourself akumatized, I’m telling my daddy!” Chloe shouted. Seeing the tears form in the iridescent green eyes, she looked at her friend with pity. “Oh, Mari! Is this the Liar again? Come here right now!” The blonde spread her arms for a hug. She didn’t care about the Akuma. Her friend needed her and she would help her conquer the world if she asked. Chloe owed Mari… everything. She helped her evolve beyond being the queen witch. In response to the gesture, the plants in the garden started to grow until they surrounded the two of them in a tight cocoon. Marinette stepped onto the balcony. She affectionately petted the vine that carried her so far before allowing it to return to its hunt for the Liar.

“Chloeee!” Mari launched herself at the girl. She sunk into the embrace, allowing tears to start flowing again. She sobbed her heart out while pushing a piece of paper she constantly held in her clutched fist before. The blonde took it and read while patting Marinette on the back of her head.

“Salauds! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! How dare that cochons! And the chienne! Wait till I tell daddy about this! Don’t worry Mari. I will protect you! I will ruin her! Merde!” The rant made Marigold pause. She never heard Chloe curse. Like… never. “But first. Mari. You know I love you and I would help you hide the body, but drop the Akuma. It’s making you look Ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous! I mean the dress is so much spot on and so you, but the whole take over Paris is more my style. I can let you be my faithful sidekick while we take over the world if you want.”

For a moment, Marigold continued to stare at Chloe before she burst out in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t a nervous chuckle or the villain cackle, but genuine pearly laughter. It was just so… Chloe-ish. She couldn’t imagine anyone trying to dissuade an Akuma by offering to become a sidekick.

“You… You… Never change Chlo.” Mari smiled at her friend.

“Whoa. You… didn’t make me a fertilizer? I mean, of course, you wouldn’t. You are just too good of a person, but Hawkmoth…”

“I’m not akumatized Chloe.” Mari smiled. “It’s me.” As if to prove her point, she stood up and spun, allowing the blonde to see her from all sides. “This is how I really look. Apparently, I do take some after my mom.”

“Your… mom?”

“Pamela Isley, she was a famous biologist. Mom was brilliant. She used to be one of the smartest people in the world.” Mari praised. “There was this one accident that she is now famous for…”

“Pamela Isley? I remember reading about her.”

“Yeah… She is…”

“Didn’t she create this environment-friendly line of cosmetics?” Chloe asked in her typical fashion

“Yes! I have no idea why everyone remembers her only for the ‘Poison Ivy’ thing!”

“I know, right?” Chloe nodded. “Wait a…”

“Tada!” Mari said weakly before trying to look away, doing everything not to look her friend in the eyes. The blonde gently grabbed her chin and moved it so she could look right into the beautiful green eyes of her best friend.

“Mari! If you think I would abandon you just because your mother took veganism too far… You’re utterly ridiculous!”

Marigold smiled slightly. Slowly, the green receded and her eyes turned back to normal. The dress remained, as without it she would end up naked and she didn’t fancy trying to explain to anyone that.

She then turned to the plants and tried to order them to return to normal, only for them to resist. For a moment, her mind started to feel fogged, but it didn’t hold at all now.

“As much as I like the scenery, maybe we stop the plantpocalypse?”

“Um… Remember how I told you I wasn’t akumatized?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the plants are…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Chloe shouted. “Listen here Hawkmoth! Get this Akuma the heck away! I don’t care about some fancy Jewels that will totally clash with your suit! I mean purple and white with red earrings? Are you colorblind?”

There was no visible reaction to the plants.

“Strange…” Marigold ran her hand over the plants. “They still respond, just refuse to yield.” Inside, Mari cursed that she couldn’t consult Tikki.

“So… Want some cookies?” Chloe asked. “We just have to wait for Ladybug to save the day. At least the damage will be repaired.”

‘Except Ladybug it trapped here…’

Suddenly, something small and black slipped through the vines and entered their small peaceful enclave. It zoomed between items on the balcony, trying to avoid being seen. It would’ve been successful if Chloe didn’t know about Kwamis.

“What was that!?” She shouted pointing at Plagg’s hiding place.

“What? I didn’t see anything!” Mari tried to lie. It was the one skill she never had. She did compensate for it by never getting caught.

“A Kwami! I’m sure I’ve seen one.”

“Kwami? Who’s Kwami? Is that some bird? How would a bird get here? I mean we are trapped in…”

“Ugh! I don’t have time for games!” Plagg suddenly floated before the pair. “Chat is trapped and can’t help without revealing himself. Paris is being destroyed mindlessly and nobody can do anything as the vines are harder than steel.” The cat summarized. “And I’m hungry. Give me cheese!” He looked at Chloe. “Camembert would be the best, but I’m not that picky.”

“Why come to us? Ladybug took away my miraculous.” The blonde asked.

“I didn’t come to you. I came to her.” The god pointed at Mari.

“Me?! Why? It’s not like…”

“We don’t have time for charades guardian! The Akuma is out of control! Literally! Hawkmoth’s connection was somehow severed and now you have a giant plant that knows only the rage. This is serious!”

Mari wanted to protest or try to save some of her identity, but then Tikki floated out of her purse.

“Oh no! Marinette! He is right! We have a huge problem.”

“Why?” The girl asked resigned.

“You’re Ladybug!” Chloe shouted but was subsequently ignored

“Hawkmoth must’ve akumatized the plant, hoping to control you, but he had no idea it was sentient. But it stopped being sentient the moment you let it go. I… It never happened before.”

“You’re Ladybug!!!” Chloe shouted so loud that everyone had to look at her.

“We can talk later. Now we need to somehow deal with the plants. Maybe… No. What about… But they are too tough… What if…” Marigold started to run through various scenarios and plans.

“Can’t you just order them to expel the Akuma?” Plagg asked bored.

“It… It might work.” Mari had a focused expression. In her head, she was running through all her knowledge of biology, miraculous magic, and how her mom’s powers worked. Hesitantly, she walked to the edge of the cocoon and called the main vine to her. The wall spread slightly and allowed the tip of it to enter. Mari touched it and started gently caressing it.

“you’re a good boy. Yeah! Who’s a good boy? You’re. Yes! You’re a good boy. But Good Boys don’t have Akuma. Do you want to be a good boy? Of course, you do…”

Chloe stood there and watched how Marigold kept talking to the plant like it was a puppy. She felt something fall into her hand. Opening the palm, she saw two earrings.

“I… I can’t!” She protested, but Plagg floated before her eyes.

“She can’t do it. If Akuma escapes, we will have plantmagedon on a larger scale.”

“Fine. Spots on!”

Just as Mari finally talked the plant into expelling the Akuma, Chloe caught it.

“Bye Bye Little Butterfly!” She released the pure white bug. “Lucky charm!” Chloe shouted. A red and black folder fell into her hands. She looked at it curiously. Inside, she found a complete set of adoption papers for her father to sign. She quickly pulled out the sheets and tossed the folder itself, releasing a swarm of ladybugs that repaired Paris to how it was before plants. The sheet stayed.

Transformation dropped after that and Chloe handed the jewel back to the true owner.

“You still have sooo much explaining to do!”

Nobody remembered about Adrien and Kagami being carried together to safety, which turned out to be Mari’s basement. And while Ladybug Cure should’ve restored them to where they were taken from, for some unknown reason they remained locked there until Mari returned late into the evening to spend the last night at the bakery. It would be some time until Tikki admitted that it was an act of revenge on Plagg for revealing her chosen’s identity. He had to go the whole day without cheese. The one good thing that came from it was that Kagami and Adrien had a long frank talk and ended up as friends. The relationship just wasn’t working.

----------

When Mari was adopted by the Mayor, she decided to keep using the Dupain-Cheng name at least for now. At first, Chloe’s father was against it, but once the girl presented it as a way of getting good press of mayor who personally looks after his citizens he practically ripped the papers to sign them. Although on paper he was the adopter, Chloe was the real parent/sister that took care of Mari. Lila seethed and spitted, but couldn’t really do much more. Adrien and Chloe roped Jagged Stone and Penny into Marinette Protection Squad. Luka and Kagami, who somehow hooked up, also joined. At some point, Mari entrusted Luka and Kagami with permanent Miraculous and Gave Chloe the Bee miraculous back. Some Fox illusion of Chloe publically applauding new heroine helped hide her identity. The hardest part was revealing to Chat, Viperion, and Ryuko her true identity. Adrien was a big surprise, but at least they finally dealt with their crushes once and for all. The fact that they were in love square in two people was way too awkward. Chloe and Mari did notice Adrien sometimes looking at Luka, but he was happy with Kagami. The only person that disproved of ‘Lukagami’ was Kagami’s mother, but she warmed up to him when he accepted the challenge to a duel and was completely pacified when she learned that Luka is apprenticing under Jagged Stone.

Jagged and Penny wanted to Adopt Mari, but ended up filling the role of uncle and aunt. After some time, Mari realized that she rebuilt what she once had in Gotham. These people might not have been her family by blood, but it mattered little. That family might’ve been damaged, maybe even broken, but they were happy together. They found solace in one another. Once more, Marinette was happy.

Until a trip to Gotham came knocking on the front doors.

#maribat #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #Miraculous #Batman #DC #MLB x DC #Mother!Ivy

224 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 3

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - more tension and also male and female masturbation

Author’s note: Chapter 3 wheyyy! I'm super sick at the minute, but nevertheless I hope my illness isn't reflected in this piece of writing. Yikes. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! Remember if you wanted to be added to my taglist feel free to let me know!

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUESTS

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER THREE - NEXT

The rain drops pelted heavy against your skin as the cool winter ambience sent a shiver down your spine. Once dismissed by Maxwell Lord, you practically raced out of the building. The contrast between the heat you felt in his presence and the December air was immeasurable. You took a big gasp of air, letting rain drops fall on your face and soak through your clothes. You stood there in the middle of the busy street trying to process what just happened.

You had been successful. Your elaborate plan had worked out and you had gotten the job. Only, it was unlike anything you had ever done before. Maxwell told you to expect a call sometime tomorrow and before you left, he made sure you were comfortable with the prospect of his job offer. First things first— tell Tristan the good news. Hopefully then, he would let you stay in your apartment a little while longer.

Before you could grab a ride from a cabbie, the doorman tapped you on the shoulder. "Ms Minerva?" His tone was completely different than earlier, more polite and friendly. "Ma'am? Mr Lord has requested his driver take you home. He didn't want you to get wet in the rain but," the doorman looked you up and down. "I see you're already drenched from this God foresaken rain. I’m Andreas, by the way."

Maxwell had asked his own, personal driver to take you home? You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach from his kind gesture, but you worried about the authenticity of it. How genuine was he? Maxwell Lord was someone who built up his reputation and business on lies and false hope.

"Oh really, that's quite alright," you dismissed the offer. "I can just get a cab."

Andreas put his hand out, halting you from walking away. "I'm afraid Mr Lord insists." He told you, taking out a sleek black umbrella and opening it up. He held it above you, protecting you from the rain.

"Could you tell Mr Lord that I'm grateful for his offer, but I can make my own way home?" You said through gritted teeth.

"I'm afraid not," Andreas said with a short shake of his head. "Whatever Mr Lord wants, Mr Lord gets."

So that's how it was going to be.

Before you could reply, a black limousine with tinted windows pulled up on the road in front of you. A few passer-bys on the street, hands full of their Christmas shopping, shot you a strange glance as you slipped into the car. Andreas shut the door behind you and suddenly you found yourself sitting in a car that probably had more worth than your entire life’s savings.

The seats were sleek and black leather, the floor was carpeted and you spotted a small ice cooler by your sofa seat. You carefully clicked it open and examined the insides. It was just various bottles of alcohol- mostly spirits. You couldn’t help but smile as you continued to explore the limousine.

Upon meeting him, Maxwell Lord was not what you expected, but now you had found the perfect opportunity to learn more about him. You spotted a velveteen box nailed to the floor so you opened it up and found a variety of odd things. It was like a rich man’s junk drawer. Everything from gold fountain pens, jewellery, condoms, multiple checkbooks were mixed inside this box. Nosily, you scurried through it all, taking out the occasional item and examining it closer. You couldn’t believe it. You had never met someone who was just able to leave such expensive items lying around in a random box inside their own limousine.

This whole experience felt like a fever dream.

The lights in the limousine were dimmed and so you searched around for a switch or button of some kind to brighten the interior of the car. Your fingers tapped into a switch and rainbow disco lights flickered on, illuminating the limousine multi-colour. It looked more like a party bus. You didn't even realise the driver had already got into the car and as he turned on the ignition and began to drive, you jolted and fell back at the sudden force, into the plush leather seat. You scrambled to belt yourself up and compose yourself.

"Ma'am, where will I be taking you?" the driver called from the front of the limousine, as he tried to navigate through the busy Christmas roads of DC. You yelled your address back to him and he made a brief sound of acknowledgement.

After a few moments of sitting in still silence, despite the rainbow disco lights beginning to give you a headache, you heard a buzzing noise. You scrambled around in your seat, looking for where the noise originated from, when you found a phone nailed to the wall of the limo. Maxwell Lord’s limo had its own carphone! Of course it did.

Your eyes widened when you realised it was ringing and you contemplated answering it. It could be anyone! It could be someone important or a business related matter. It could be private. Thoughts raced through your mind as the phone continued to buzz.

"Are you going to get that?" The driver called out again.

You took a deep breath and took the phone off the hook, nudging it between your ear and your neck. "H-hello?" you asked, your finger anxiously twirling in the wire connecting the phone and the dock.

"Apologies for calling so early on, I usually wait a few days before calling back my female suitors," you weren't sure if your heart rate eased or increased when you heard Maxwell's voice. His voice sounded easy-going, and you were sure you even heard him chuckle slightly at his own remark. "I trust you weren't made uncomfortable by Andreas insisting you got a ride home."

"I have to admit, Mr Lord, I don't usually get into cars with strangers." you huffed, squeezing your eyes tight shut.

"Smart," Maxwell replied quickly. "So why did you this time?" His voice was dark and had a lulling undertone. He sounded similar to when he saw you during the interview earlier on, and the memory made that familiar heat erupt once more in your stomach.

You struggled to find your words. "I- I uhm-" you weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to Andreas. You would've never agreed to such a proposition before. But this is what Maxwell Lord wanted. And you didn't dare want to disappoint Maxwell Lord. You didn't understand because you didn't even know the man— nor did you have any care about him whatsoever prior to your meeting today. But since you exchanged those words in his office, you had been feeling a certain kind of way. "I trust you." you admitted with a defeated sigh. It was true. You trusted a man you had barely even spent half-an-hour with. You trusted a man who built his business on lying to the people of the world.

On the other end of the line, Maxwell was smiling to himself. His feet were on his desk and he was nursing a glass of his favourite whiskey. He could never tell you, but he craved to hear your voice again. He was already thinking about the next time he could see you. He put the glass down on his desk and with his free hand, palmed at his hardening manhood.

"I'm glad," Maxwell replied smoothly. "Trust is going to be very important in our kind of arrangement." There was a beat. "Speaking of which, would you owe me the pleasure in accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?"

"D-dinner?" you blurted out, feeling your cheeks heat up. Dinner with Maxwell Lord— this is not how you thought today would go. Sitting in a limousine and being asked out by the cover boy of Forbes magazine.

"I know a really nice restaurant by the river. Black-tie dress code type thing." His voice was like silk. It was getting hot in the limousine. You needed air. The thought of him taking you out for dinner at a restaurant, having a nice meal and enjoying his company felt like a dream. Then you were hit with the reality of your financial situation.

"Oh Mr Lord, I'm sure it's lovely but I don't think I can afford-"

"I think you're forgetting the terms of our arrangement darling," Maxwell snickered on the other end of the line. It was true— you had. For a moment you thought it would be a normal date. But this wasn't a relationship. He was right, it was an arrangement. "What I have, is yours. You are to want for nothing."

There was something romantic about his sentiment, you once again found yourself forgetting the true nature of his words. "Well then," you gulped."Dinner sounds great."

Maxwell's smile grew wider. "And then back to my place." his invitation sounded more like a command than a question, and the authority in his voice was enough to get your panties wet. You pursed your lips together to suppress a moan at the thought of going back to his house. You wondered what it would be like. Would your arrangement commence tomorrow night?

"I'd really like that." you let out a shaky exhale. Your hand dropped in between your legs and you slowly began to touch yourself through the thick material of your denim jeans. You ached to get home and take them off. There was something that felt so naughty about getting off in the car of a man you had just met. Especially when that man was Maxwell Lord.

Maxwell felt the same. He had intended to take you back to his place to go through a contract and discuss the specifics of your arrangement— but if the night led to something else, he certainly wouldn't be opposed. You were driving him wild; like no other woman had ever. He unzipped his pants and slipped his hand under his boxer shorts, slowly beginning to pump his length while holding the phone in the crook of his neck.

"You- you have something pretty to wear?" he asked, trying to remain as composed as possible.

"Maybe, maybe just my little black dress." you whispered in response, pressing your forehead against the cold window to try and release some tension.

Your description left much to the imagination, but Maxwell wasn't complaining. He wondered about the black dress: how short it was, exactly? How did it fit you? Did it accentuate his favourite parts of your body? Maxwell's eyes fluttered shut as he carried on stroking his length, a small grunt escaping his lips. It didn't go unnoticed by you.

"I'll have my driver pick you up tomorrow evening," Maxwell hummed. "6pm."

You couldn't even reply— he already put the phone down. Maxwell slouched back into his chair and worked at his already hard length. His thumb swept the precum that beaded at his tip and he continued pumping, wishing that the wetness around him was from your mouth as you devoured him.

He imagined your pretty lips suck him and his cock began to throb in his hands. He imagined having to push your hair out of the way so he could get a good look of your face whilst you took him in your mouth. He imagined your eyes wide and your cheeks hollowed as you fit him inside of you. He wanted to fuck your mouth, wanted to make you gag and have your saliva make a mess all over him.

Maxwell gasped as he spilt his seed all over his tailored suit pants. He kept his sensitive cock in his hand for a few moments after, feeling it soften. He wanted to soften inside of you. Already, he was enamoured by you. Desperate to feel your touch, your wetness. Desperate to hear your screams of pleasure.

When you got home, you had planned on seeing Tristan, alerting him of the good news. New job. Then maybe, he'd let you live in your apartment just a little bit longer until you could afford rent. You decided he could wait until tomorrow. Hurrying into your small flat you locked yourself in the bathroom and turned on the shower.

You discarded your clothes, letting them pool into a puddle on the floor. In your frenzy, you had forgotten to open a window, so the steam from the hot water warmed your skin and small beads of sweat drew along your collarbones and chest as you ran your hands over your body. You bit your lip, hard, remembering the image of Maxwell's hands in the office which you had so carefully ingrained into your head.

You thought about his thick hands squeezing your tits, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your nipples and pinching hard enough to make you squeal. You wondered how his touch felt. You imagined him rough, and ruthless, but since meeting him today, and the way he diverted all your expectations, you wondered if he would have any surprises up his sleeve for your time in the bedroom. You let your fingers gently trace the skin of your stomach, a feather light touch that tickled slightly. You closed your eyes, imagining the wealthy CEO stood behind you, arms wrapped around your naked body and planting sloppy wet kisses into the crook of your neck.

With complete certainty, neither you or Maxwell could stop thinking about each other. Maxwell wanted to call you over in the dead of night when he couldn't sleep. His body ached for you. He felt a neediness that he had never felt before. Of course he could just call one of his assistants. He paid them enough, they would be able to come over and satisfy him (to some extent), but the problem was, they weren't you.

You had done something to him, and now nobody else could even begin to compare to you. You consumed his every thought. Maxwell had once almost married a rival CEO. He was meant to be in love with her but… the feelings were not the same as this. The feelings he felt for you were far beyond lust, but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly they were. He cursed himself, feeling frustrated. This wasn't him. But he was completely and utterly whipped on you.

And you weren't much different. You swore you were in love with Tristan. You had been in an on and off relationship with him for two years but once again, the feelings you had for him were so different to the feelings you now possessed for Maxwell. It was indescribable. You wrecked your room, trying to find the perfect shoes and accessories to wear with your promised little black dress. You wanted to be perfect. You wanted to look perfect. And it was all for Maxwell.

He had you whipped, and you hated him for it.

You lived your life wanting to only impress yourself. You didn't think twice about the way men felt about you. It never mattered. But this was Maxwell Lord. Everything was just different.

So when your 'date' finally came around, you were both equally bursting with anticipation.

When you slid in the back of the limousine, Maxwell couldn't keep his eyes from you. His gaze was glued onto your amazing figure which he loved so much, and the way your little black dress clung to your body and accentuated all your perfections. Your little diamond earrings sparkled under the car's dim light and there was something so beautiful about the simplicity of it.

Truth be told, Maxwell Lord was nervous. He didn't date. He couldn't remember the last time he went on a proper date (he wasn't even sure if you classed this outing as a date). He wasn't one for relationships either. Hell, a woman could count herself lucky if she lasted a week with him. He liked the spontinuity of fucking different women, no strings attached. Throwing them away like garbage the second he got bored. He had the power to do that. It was just the way he was and he had no intentions of that changing.

Although, maybe his intentions were slowly changing and he hadn't yet realised. You offered him the kindest smile he had ever seen, your eyes glistening like jewels. And oh, he felt his cheeks warm up. He leaned over to the window on his side and pressed his face against it, the cool winter air calming his nerves. When your fingers graced the material of his tailored suit pants, just over his thigh, he swore his heart stopped.

"You look nice." you beamed at him, your heart blooming when he finally turned and his brown eyes met yours. You didn't expect Maxwell Lord to disappoint, in any sense, but especially not when it came to fashion. The power suit he was wearing was practically dripping in wealth, and you were almost certain every inch of him was wearing designer names from his suit jacket to his gold cufflinks in his shirt.

"So do you." Maxwell returned the compliment, gawking as he took in your exquisite form. You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and you awkwardly looked down at your match black heels, scraping them against the carpeted floor of the limousine. "That dress- I saw it in Louis Vuitton last year?" Maxwell pointed out and you looked down, reacquainting yourself with the outfit you had chosen to wear.

"This? Oh no no," you chuckled earnestly. "I got this from the thrift store for seven dollars like a month ago."

You regretted those words as soon as they left your lips. You did not just admit to Maxwell Lord that you had bought the dress he had been so enthralled in, from the moment you entered the limo, second hand. To your surprise, he gave you a toothy grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight and that adorable little dimple appearing in his left cheek.

"We're here," he announced as the driver pulled up on the side of the road. You gazed out the window in awe. The whole street was lit up in gold Christmas fairy lights, and the restaurant that Maxwell had selected, was highlighted with tinsel and a huge Christmas tree in the front window.

"Wow," you couldn't help but whisper at the gorgeous view. You hadn't even realised Maxwell had already slipped out the car and opened your side door for you. He held his hand out for you, and of course you grabbed it. His hands were soft and warm… he definitely moisturized. He helped you out of the limo and shut the door behind you, sliding an arm around your waist as he guided you into the restaurant.

"Be careful not to slip on the black ice." he warned as he helped you slowly walk in your heels. Still hand in hand, you looked up at him with the biggest smile. You hadn't felt a happiness like this in a long time. He didn't look at you back, instead of focusing on successfully navigating inside the restaurant without falling over.

The restaurant was empty. Not a soul in sight. Your eyes snapped to Maxwell, waiting for him to give you an explanation. He caught on, offering you a small and understanding nod.

"I rented the restaurant out." He explained, raising an eyebrow as he examined his surroundings. Your gaze followed his as you took in the merrily strung Christmas lights and the beautifully decorated tree by the front bay window.

"Why would you do that?" You quizzed him.

"You never know who is sitting among us," he explained. "Journalists, paparazzi, crazed fans."

Ah, there it was. The part about Maxwell you had completely forgotten about. He was famous. Everyone in the world knew who he was and if you had known anything about Maxwell before meeting him, it was that the tabloids loved to pry into his personal life. So, you were somewhat understanding. But that didn't stop the devastating feeling of your heart sinking into your chest. He wanted to hide you. It made sense, I mean, you had only just met and you were only his sugar baby, but it still hurt. You done your best to ignore the strange feelings and told yourself you could still have a good night with him. But the thoughts didn't escape your mind.

You and Maxwell were ushered to a seat by a lit fireplace and passed menus by a beaming waiter. "Can I get you a drink while you decide on what to eat?" he asked with an enthusiastic smile.

"Just a bottle of your finest champagne with two glasses," Maxwell replied, not even looking at the waiter but flicking his wrist and gesturing for him to scurry away. The waiter left both of you in a frenzy, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Is something funny?" Maxwell prompted you, raising an eyebrow. You pursed your lips again but shook your head 'no'. Maxwell's eyes flicked back down to the menu and you burst into another fit of giggles. "Seriously, what is it?" Maxwell asked sternly and you straightened your posture, taking a deep breath and trying to compose yourself.

"That poor waiter looked so afraid of you." You admitted quietly. Maxwell shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal.

"A lot of people are afraid of me."

"Why?" you beckoned, leaning closer to him.

Maxwell hesitated and put his menu down. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"A lot of people used to be afraid of my mother," Maxwell admitted. "I'm afraid I'm going to end up like her."

"Why were they afraid of your mother?" you questioned him, thanking the waiter as he promptly brought you the two glasses and bottle of ice cold champagne. You began to pour it out.

"She was so cold. Bitter… heartless…" Maxwell scowled, quickly taking a glass of champagne and downing it in one quick gulp. "I worry that, maybe, others perceive me in the same light as they perceive my mother."

"That they think you're cold, bitter and heartless?" you quizzed, and Maxwell winced at your words. He didn't reply, instead buried his gaze into the cream coloured table cloth.

You extended your arms and reached out, taking hold of his soft ring clad hands. Maxwell's breathing hitched under your touch. You noticed the way his hands were considerably larger than yours but even still, you rubbed comforting circles into his skin with your thumb. He interlocked his fingers with yours and you offered him a warm smile. "I don't think you're cold, bitter and heartless."

Maxwell sighed. "You don't know me."

"I see the warmth in your eyes," you whispered. "I know there's more to you than meets the eye."

Taglist: if you want to be added let me know! (if your name is crossed out it means I can't tag you)

December Magic: @kiwi-the-first @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell

Permanent: @goth-topic @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #max lord #max lord smut #max lord x reader #december magic

170 notes · View notes

scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 18

Scully, Mulder, and Missy travel to California to meet Emily and wrestle with the future.

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

The echo of Scully’s heels against the linoleum is almost enough to drown out her racing heart. Mulder’s thumping steps and her sister’s daintier ones help too, but their collective power does nothing to ease Scully’s awareness that the Earth circles the sun at a thousand miles per hour. Today, she’s feeling every bit of it.

The three of them round a corner, and a broad-shouldered man and tiny-waisted woman come into view. Agent Feniston and the lawyer, this must be. Outside of conference room C--as planned.

Straightening every disc in her spine, Scully extends a hand and exchanges a firm shake with each of them. Mulder and Melissa hang back.

“Dana Scully,” she declares. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“That decision rested with the foster parents,” the male agent insists. “As does any from this point forward.”

“Yes, and I’ll be sure to thank them as well,” Scully acquiesces.

“Hello, Ms. Scully.” The lawyer uncrosses her ankles. “I’m Tanya Joyce, you can call me Tanya. As a representative of the state of California, my priority is guarding the child’s wellbeing and ensuring that any choice made is what’s best for her.”

“Of course,” Scully murmurs. “Thank you for being here.”

Tanya thumbs toward the closed door of the conference room. “Brian and Cecily are eager to meet you. The foster system has extremely limited information on little Emily. Your testimony will help us all fill in some blanks.”

Scully nods. “Me as well...this is as much a surprise for me as all of you.”

“Are we to understand that you were not aware you bore a child, Ms. Scully?” Agent Feniston asks.

“Yes, sir. I know it’s quite hard to believe, I feel the same. I was missing for a period of time last year and was comatose when I returned.”

“Yes, and how long was that period of time, Ms. Scully?”

The edges of her lips fall. “Approximately five weeks.”

“So is it safe to assume that though the child shares your DNA, you did not carry her?”

“No sir, not that I know of. I believe that my eggs were harvested, and she was...well, she comes from one of those.”

The agent hums a note of acknowledgement. “As I told you over the phone, the federal database contained no viable DNA match of a father.”

Scully nods. “Yes sir, and I have no knowledge of what sperm may have been used.”

“Noted.” He rubs his neck. “We were lucky, we only found you because you were in the missing persons database.”

“I had no idea I was still listed there,” Scully says. “I’ve asked the FBI to remove it.”

“Well, it was a stroke of luck for us,” the agent tells her. “This little girl’s foster parents encouraged the state to pursue child abandonment charges against whoever left her. She was found outside a local care center at two weeks old, as I’ve told you.”

“Yes.” Scully purses her lips. She imagines a baby with her eyes, nose, toes, chromosomes crying on a nondescript doorstep...she and Mulder did not know what they were doing when they said they wanted the truth.

“We’ve already confirmed your story with the FBI,” Feniston continues, “and we have proof that you were working on cases in the east at the time of Emily’s delivery to the foster center, so you are free of any child abandonment charges.”

“Wonderful,” Scully replies, but really, those were the least of her concerns. “May I see my daughter now?”

That’s the first time she’s ever said that sentence, and she didn’t expect terror to shoot up her spine. Is this what it is, having an extension of your life outside your body?

The lawyer steps forward. “I’ll introduce you to Brian and Cecily, they’d like to speak with you first.”

Scully does not like the way that sits in the air. Still, she musters a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

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

Mulder and Melissa make themselves at home on a pair of leather chairs outside the conference room. They have been the pall-bearers keeping Scully aloft as her crushed dreams reinvent themselves as high hopes. They don’t understand how it happened any more than Scully herself: one phone call turned into multiple consultations with Agent Feniston, then Tanya and California Social Services and finally, DC social workers who performed background checks and prepared forms so that Scully could come here today to meet her baby and, God-willing, bring her home.

It doesn’t happen this fast, it never does--different voices said these same words to them a dozen times. And yet, barely two weeks after Agent Feniston’s fated voicemail, here they are. On All Hallow’s Eve, no less. Just in time for Emily to complete her first rotation around the sun.

They both play contrasting yet crucial roles in Operation Miracle Baby, as Mulder dubbed it. Dana has sobbed into Missy’s shoulder every night for the past two weeks; happy tears (her baby! she has a baby!), sad tears (she has a baby…and she didn’t even know...), scared tears (a baby! a baby, Missy! probably already walking, and maybe even talking if she’s exceptional...). The situation--and its implications--are impossible to reconcile in such a short time, if at all. Scully’s petite frame could not physically contain it.

Mulder’s the comic relief, the distraction, the reminder that nothing can be so grave if there's still breath left in your body. He bought a CD of nursery rhymes and stuck in it his beat-up office radio, playing it through the day while Scully labored over this form or that and he pretended to alphabetize the case file drawer. Now, he hums himself to sleep every night with one of those rhymes; he’s hoping this new skill will come in handy.

He would’ve bought toys and baby clothes too, but Melissa made him swear not to in case the adoption falls through. And she’s right, he can’t bear to imagine the pain Scully would feel packing those away. For sale: baby shoes, never worn hits you no matter who you are. Still, he has a stuffed UFO and a Build-a-Bear fox (yes, he went in and filled it himself) hidden in his closet, and he hopes they won’t go to waste.

Operation Miracle Baby has been as covert as anything Mulder’s ever been involved in. He, Melissa, and Mrs. Scully are the only ones in his partner’s circle with any knowledge of what’s going on. No one else, in Scully’s words, matters. Trinity too has received a full briefing from Missy and is ecstatic about her girlfriend potentially becoming an auntie. Skinner was told it was a family emergency--and well, it is--though surely he’s suspicious about both of his agents requesting time off. Bill Jr. has no idea they’re in San Diego, though they may seek “refuge” (the air quotes are Missy’s) at his place if the proceedings drag on.

This is a triumph or failure to be shared only with those most beloved, that’s what Scully said to them the night before they boarded the plane. Mulder has never been included in anyone’s most beloved before. It feels pretty damn good.

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

The perky lawyer raps on the conference room door, opening it in response to a voice on the other side. Scully’s breath catches….a strawberry-haired infant rests in her mother’s arms (Scully hates to think it, but surely this woman is more Emily’s mother than she is), pulling at a lock of the woman’s blonde hair.

The woman turns her way, and Scully gets her first glimpse at Emily’s face. Emily. Her baby. She wondered the whole flight here whether she would feel a connection….a sense of recognition...upon laying eyes on her daughter. And my god, it’s like some chained section of her heart has burst open, flooded with all the good feelings of the world. Icy blue eyes and cherub cheeks...that’s her baby. That’s her baby.

She watches as her baby is passed to a woman in a CA Social Services button-up who slides past Scully in the doorway like she’s not even there. Scully has a split-second to notice the dimples on her daughter’s cheeks, but that’s it. Emily’s gaze misses her entirely.

Tanya strides toward the couple in the room, Scully following behind.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace, this is Dana Scully, Emily’s biological mother.”

“We’re so glad to meet you,” the man says, shaking Scully’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Brian, and this is my wife Cecily.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Scully tells them, shaking Cecily’s hand in kind. “I understand you’ve cared for Emily since shortly after she arrived at social services.”

“Yes,” Cecily confirms. “She came to us when she was a month old. Raising her has been an absolute joy.”

Brian nods. “She’s the second infant we’ve fostered. We adopted our first one, Andrew, when he was a year and a half.”

“I didn’t realize you had another child,” Scully converses, feeling out of her depth. “It must have been quite a transition, taking Emily in.”

“It sure was, but she’s an angel, truly,” Brian says. “We couldn't fathom that someone could abandon her and get away with it, that’s why we contacted Agent Feniston.”

Cecily chimes in--”We were told the chances of finding a DNA match in the federal database was slim. We didn’t expect to learn that you were unaware of Emily’s existence!”

“Yes, I’m still coming to terms with it all,” Scully replies. “I’m grateful that you’ve given me the opportunity to see her, at the very least.”

“When we heard your story, we knew it would be heinous of us to say no,” Cecily says, offering a sympathetic smile.

“You’re an FBI agent, did we hear that right?” Brain asks.

“Yes sir, I’ve been with the Bureau five years now.”

“You live in DC?”

Scully nods. “Around the corner from the National Mall.”

“That’s exciting!” Cecily pipes up. “How did you find yourself having Emily in San Diego?”

“I actually have no idea, Mrs. Lace,” Scully murmurs. “My family lived here when I was young, but I haven’t been back since. Coincidentally, my brother lives not too far off.”

“Wow,” Cecily gasps. “They weren’t kidding about you being a missing person.”

“No ma’am.” She went from a missing person to missing a person. No wonder she’s spent the past year feeling so empty.

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

Mulder and Melissa get only the slightest moment to catch their breath before a child that is unmistakably the progeny of Dana Scully is carried into the lobby. Her hair curls around her ears in a cute mushroom top, her tongue dancing in her mouth like it has a mind of its own. They stare; they know better, but fuck it, if any baby is worth staring at, it’s this one.

“Is that--?” Mulder whispers.

“Yeah,” Missy breathes.

They’ve both seen the pictures, they are well aware that it’s her. They say these things for the awe of it.

“She’s…” Mulder’s eyes are wide. “She’s bigger than I thought she would be. Not fat, I mean. Just...a whole tiny human.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Melissa smiles at her niece, who is now seated on her caretaker’s lap across the hallway. Emily’s big eyes blink at her, containing silent judgements. How like her mother she is.

Missy elbows Mulder. “I bet she orders mushroom pizza and then picks the mushrooms off because apparently ‘the cheese tastes better than on the regular cheese pizza,’” she muses, naming one of her sister’s quirks.

Mulder likes this game. “I bet she vehemently denies the existence of extraterrestrials only to secretly believe that her dashing partner is right,” he offers.

Missy smirks. “I bet she would find this game very stupid if she understood it.”

“I’m all in on that one.” Mulder mimes pushing a pile of poker chips into the center of a table.

Missy laughs, looks toward her seat partner with soft eyes. “She’s gonna be a great mom, isn’t she? Dana, I mean?”

“Oh yeah.” Mulder clasps his hands in his lap. “We should be so lucky to have a little Scully in the world.”

“Mm-hm.” Missy focuses on his face, watching for the slightest move that might give his thoughts away. “And she’ll be able to do it alone, do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll need some help from Mrs. Scully, and you, and…” he trails off before adding his own name, but Missy’s mind fills it in reflexively. “She’ll need help,” Mulder finishes, “but yeah, she’ll be incredible.”

The details have already been parsed out. As a single mother, Scully is required to list a guardian who would take custody of Emily if something were to happen to her. She listed her mother as the primary one--the social worker told her it’s best if it’s someone who has child-rearing experience--and Missy as the secondary guardian. She would, after all, already live in the child’s household.

Then there was the matter of the job--its extensive time requirements, travelling, and danger level were all of concern to the agency. This came as no surprise to Scully; a single female FBI agent does not make the ideal adoption candidate. And though she hasn’t yet spoken to the Bureau, Mulder has promised her they’ll work something out. It can be like your leave of absence, he assured her. You tackle the paper trail and I’ll focus on following the suspect’s trail. Easy-peasy.

That’s what he says to her, though he’s terrified of losing her as his partner...Of her being reassigned to something simpler or leaving the Bureau entirely. She could teach at Quantico, that schedule would be a hell of a lot easier than running on Mulder time. Agent Scully can pack for hastily-booked flights at midnight then catch them at 7am, but Emily’s mother couldn’t. He will have to reckon with this if all the pieces fall into their graceful place. He’ll have to figure out how to rearrange their partnership for her, or even worse, how to live without her as his partner. Or maybe even at all.

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

Scully glances at her shoes, then summons the courage to meet Mrs. Lace’s hazel eyes. “I hope you will consider my request. I know it’s not up to you entirely--the court will have the final say--but my abduction experience has left me unable to have a biological child, so learning of Emily was truly a miracle of the highest order.”

Her voice clips as she takes a breath. “I understand that it would be a huge sacrifice on the part of your family, and that you’ve developed a bond with Emily over the past eleven months. I just ask you both to please...think about it.” Tears twinkle in her eyes. She made it, thank god, she made it without breaking down! She’s rehearsed that speech ten times over.

Cecily lays a hand on her husband’s arm. “Of course, Dana. It would be a painful sacrifice to us, you’re correct, but we understand that you’ve flown across the country to be here, and that you’ve brought witnesses to testify to your character, so your commitment is clear. We’ll listen and make as compassionate a decision as possible.”

Scully’s lips creep into a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She steps back, the weight of imminent sobs settling over her chest.

“Ms. Scully has already undergone most of the requirements needed for adoption,” the lawyer tells Mr. and Mrs. Lace. “Medical clearance, psychiatric clearance, criminal background check, and home study. In the spirit of her unique circumstances, California and the District of Columbia have agreed to cooperate to make the process as smooth and expedient as possible, if you should choose to surrender Emily to her. I don’t mean to sway your decision in any way, just to give you all the available information.”

The couple nods. “Thank you, Tanya,” Cecily answers. “We’d like to speak with the first witness now.”

Scully balks. She expected more questions, a barrage of them, as intense and prying as if she were testifying in front of Congress. And she was ready for that--she was prepared to do whatever they asked of her, to show that there are no lengths she wouldn’t go for Emily. She’s already documented every detail of her life for social services and given over the necessary specimens to prove that no, she’s not a drug user, and yes, her thyroid is hyperactive, but she takes medication for that and her doctor will confirm that it’s under control.

And if they wanted to know more, she’d tell them. She’d tell it all. Her deepest, darkest secret (telling Daniel that yes, he should leave his wife & kids...all for her, to be with her), the most petty thing that haunts her (stolen cigarettes, smoked on the family porch at 1am), what she wants to say most but can’t (I love you)...a part of her was taken to create Emily. She would give the rest away to keep her.

There was a moment, in one of the drab little interrogation rooms at DC social services, where Scully was met with a question that lunged toward her like a time-bomb. Pull the fuse, pull the fuse it taunted her. See what happens. Instead, she played it off. Pretended she didn’t hear its doomed tick. Feigned none the wiser. No, she isn’t aware of any potential medical condition that would inhibit her life expectancy or ability to care for a child, she told the nice woman. Thank god they got the chip out of her neck before it showed up on any x-rays.

She snaps back to reality, watching as the conference door opens, and her sister enters the room.

“Thank you, Dana,” Tanya says, and she assumes that’s the lawyer’s way of telling her to get out, so she does. Outside the room, she settles next to Mulder in a seat that’s still warm.

“How’d it go in there, champ?” he chatters. “You need some water or anything?”

Scully’s not listening. Her eyes are trained on the baby girl across the way with hair too auburn to be brunette that’ll require a smattering of box dye every two weeks to qualify her as a soulless ginger.

Emily’s eyes land on the woman she does not know is her mother, studying this new face with an infant’s usual curiosity. Mulder has realized by now that the little girl is of much more interest to his partner than he is, and he watches as mother and daughter wave to each other.

Scully lets out a laugh so strangled that for a moment Mulder thinks it’s a cry and jumps to comfort her. He relaxes back into his seat once he sees the joy on her face.

“She’s a sweetheart, huh?” Mulder wisecracks as the young girl jams her fingers into her mouth.

Scully beams. “She’s a baby, that’s her way of learning the world!”

“Hey, I’m not knocking it. That’s my personal preference as well,” he says with a lop-sided smile.

“Yeah, well, she’s not licking evidence,” Scully quips.

Mulder shrugs. “A man can’t help his oral fixation. Haven’t you ever heard of Freud…?” he lets it slide off his tongue.

Scully rolls her eyes. His inability to maintain an appropriate manner is nothing if not inspiring.

She gestures toward Emily. “You’re already encouraging bad behavior. Tsk-tsk,” she teases.

“That’s my job as--hey, wait. What’s she gonna call me?” If you get custody, of course passes silently between them.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” Scully says, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” That’s a lie. She’s sat up during the night trying to decipher Mulder’s relation to Emily. He would certainly be the male authority in her life, but that doesn’t make him a father figure. Right?

Scully adored her father because he was the head of the family, and he embraced the responsibility, always making sure they had what they needed. While her mother was often the one doing the grunt work of caring for them, her father provided for them. His long deployments with the Navy protected them. Scully understood his sacrifice and loved him for it

That’s not how it would go with Emily. If she were so lucky as to get the child, Scully would be the caretaker and the provider. A two-in-one deal with a high price. What would that mean, for Emily? Scully could do it, she believes that. Not that it would be anything less than utterly exhausting, but with a little help from her mother and her sister, she could make do, and they say it takes a village to raise a child anyway, so what’s so bad about that?

Since she’s filling those roles herself, that leaves...well, Mulder could be the fun uncle, that fits him. Bill Jr. isn’t gonna cut it, and neither is Charlie, considering that he’s god knows where. Besides, it’s unlikely that Mulder will get a chance to know a biological niece or nephew. He and Emily could fill missing pieces in each other’s lives.

Scully’s eyes trace the contours of her partner’s face. “Do you have a preference about what she calls you?”

“I was hoping for His Royal Highness Fox Mulder of Martha’s Vineyard--is that too much?”

Scully lets a strand of hair fall over her face. “It might take her awhile to get her tongue around that.”

“Or it’ll speed up her speech acquisition,” Mulder replies.

“Oh, you’re a child-rearing connoisseur now?”

Mulder twiddles his thumbs. “It is my goal to raise the first kid to transcribe canine language into English.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that,” Scully tells him, a smile flitting on her lips. It’s this kind of banter that keeps her sane. A few minutes out here with him, and she’s forgotten that what happens in that conference room will dictate the rest of her life.

Across the hallway, Emily giggles at the air, and it fits, doesn’t it? Here she is, already laughing at Mulder’s jokes like the Scully girl she is.

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

It feels like a prisoner exchange when witness number one in their civil-that-sure-feels-like-a-criminal case joins Scully back in the hallway, and Mulder is called forward “to the stand.” He swears he found a penny in the parking lot this morning & promises to bring back good news. Scully’s pretty sure he made that story up, but she’s no less hopeful that it’ll come true.

Returned from her brief stint in captivity, Missy dives right into a discussion of her niece: “Look at her, Dana, she looks just like you!”

“Well, she does have fifty percent of my DNA,” Scully concedes with an admiring glance at the little girl.

“Have you gone over to see her?”

Scully shakes her head. “I didn’t think that would be proper.”

“Are you kidding me?” Missy retorts. “First of all, Brian and Cecily are very nice people, and I’m not supposed to say this, but I think there’s a chance that Emily will be yours. Secondly, this could be your only opportunity to interact with your daughter and you’re not gonna take it?”

Scully bites her lip. Her sister knows how to craft an argument. “Alright, but you have to back me up.”

“Trust me, I wanna see her just as badly as you.”

Scully steels herself, then approaches the woman in the polo shirt. “Hello.” She does a polite half-wave, which she’s never done before and which makes her feel ridiculous. “I’m the potential adoptee, and I was wondering if I could say hello to this precious little girl.” It all feels completely out of character, like she’s reading lines from a script. But this is it, this is her reality.

The woman’s face offers little in the way of recognition. “You can have a supervised visit with her, yes,” she recites, as rehearsed as Scully.

“Great.” Scully claps her hands together. “May I take her to my sister right over there?”

The woman nods. Scully lays her hands on Emily’s waist and lifts the girl gently from the woman’s lap. She is heavier than Scully imagined, or maybe just heavier than she hoped. Every ounce is a reminder of unseen existence and unwitnessed growth.

Emily does not balk, just stares up at her mother with those probing eyes.

“Hi baby girl,” Scully coos to her daughter as she settles her against her hip. “Can you say hi? Have you got that one yet?”

The girl blinks. “Ma-ma.”

Scully crooks her neck, tries to reign in her racing imagination. All babies do this at this age, don’t they? Calling every woman mama and every man dada. Emily’s no exception. And yet...for that to be the first word her daughter has ever said to her. God winked at her, and she’s glad to have caught it.

The pair makes it to Missy, who blows a kiss in Emily’s direction. “Hey there little one.” She extends her index finger, and the girl latches onto it.

Scully cradles her baby’s head, Emily’s fine hair soft beneath her fingers.

“She’s even-keeled for a baby,” Missy remarks, wiggling her finger and watching Emily crack a smile.

“Yes,” Scully gurgles out of the sheer joy. She settles into her chair with Emily in her lap. “Do you know what she said to me?”

Missy looks up. “What?”

“Mama.” Scully dons a triumphant grin. “She called me mama.”

“Oh, no way!” Missy squeals. It’s a bit too loud and sudden, making Emily jump. The ladies laugh, and Scully pulls her daughter in closer, kissing the crown of her head. She still has that baby smell; the freshness of new life and all its purity. Scully sighs. It must have been even stronger when she was born.

Scully closes her eyes. If she had one chance to pause life somewhere along the way, to linger in a perfect moment longer, she would do it right now and she would never regret it.

“My baby…” she breathes into Emily’s ear, hoping it will stick. That one day she’ll remember and find her way home, should she need to.

A warm tear slides down Scully’s cheek and lands in Emily’s lap, a dark drop on the girl’s corduroy pants. “Mama loves you, Emily.” She tightens her embrace. “That’s me,” she sniffs. “I love you, Emily.”

Observing this, Missy feels that she is an interloper and slips off to the bathroom, leaving mother and baby to have their moment.

Scully strokes the girl’s tiny palm with her thumb. She has missed so much already, and my god, she could miss so much more. What is love, if not sacrifice? Hadn’t that been the takeaway from each week of Sunday school?

The conference door opens, and Scully finds herself irritated that life has failed to pause. Oh, what wouldn’t she do to take the reins from God, even for a moment? She looks up at Mulder, doe-eyed as he processes the optical illusion that is Emily and her mother. Said mother sees the tenderness on Mulder’s face as he comes to terms with this sight, and something in both of them breaks, and something else opens.

Mulder approaches quietly, apprehensive about ruining the moment. Little does he know, he’s not ruining it; he’s completing it.

“Hey,” Scully swoons. “How was it?”

He’s too earnest to crack a joke right now. “Less nerve-wracking than I expected,” he murmurs. “Brain and Cecily are good people.”

Scully can’t help but wonder if they’re hammering this point about Brian and Cecily to make her feel better when the gavel falls in their direction. Mulder directs her train of thought away from this when he kneels in front of Emily. His eyes are as soupy as ever, Scully notices; she could sink right into them.

“May I?”

Scully chuckles under her breath, like a stranger has just asked if they could pet her dog. “Of course, Mulder. Say hi.”

Over the past weeks, Mulder spent considerable time anticipating this initial interaction. First impressions are important, after all, and there is no one he has wanted to impress more than this sweet girl. Ultimately, he decided that he didn’t care what their meeting was, as long as it would be. And now that he’s here, knelt in front of his two favorite girls, he’s ready to make a promise.

He envelops Emily’s closed fist with one hand and uses the other to caress Scully’s palm. “I want you to know,” he begins, shifting his gaze between mother and daughter, “that I’ll always be here for you.”

He looks to Scully, realizing that Emily is unable to comprehend what he is saying. “Regardless of Brian and Cecily’s choice, I am prepared to make every sacrifice so that you two can be a family. The family you deserve to be. I know what it’s like to not have that, and christ, Scully, I’m not letting you go through that. You’ve had enough for one lifetime.”

Scully’s face puckers. She is moved on a dimension that transcends the spiritual, if such a thing is possible. She closes her eyes, lets the tears slip out, then softens her focus on him.

“Thank you, Mulder...Fox,” she effuses, needing to heighten the intimacy. “Emily and I…” she kisses her daughter’s temple again. “Well, you know. You already know.” Her voice is somber almost, reminiscent of a wedding vow’s binding utterance.

Mulder smiles up at them, pats Scully’s hand. “I know. Me too.”

There are many phrases that could fill her blank, but he chose his favorite, and he’s got an inkling that he’s right.

Scully sucks in a breath, and it’s the first one that has ever counted. Earth is new to her, again.

The door opens a second time, and the lawyer approaches with Brian and Cecily behind her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace would like to take some time to think about their decision,” Tanya announces. “You will understand, they hope…?”

Scully nods, swallowing back a lump in her throat. She would like to break into a tantrum, throwing chairs and screeching every obscenity she knows. Begging please, please, don’t let me miss another heartbeat. Let me live in this Heaven I’ve found. But no answer is better than an immediate rejection, so she screws her lips into a smile and gives away two more handshakes.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lace. I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

#you guysss i have been excited for this chapter since day one!!!#it only gets more emotional from here ahhhh #hope you enjoy <3 #i am hugging anyone who reads this #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf fic #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

50 notes · View notes

allisonbaelfire · 3 years

Text

Hope and Destiny

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader / Bucky Barnes x Reader / Tony Stark!Brother

Summary: After the Sokovia accords, were you teamed up with your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, instead of your Brother, Tony Stark, you and the rest of Caps Team had to go into hiding. For a while it went well, you continued to protect civilians, tried to have a normal everyday life and Steve and your relationship seemed okay in spite of everything that happened.

One day Steve gave a Quinjet route, you didn't know. He flew to Wakanda and dropped Bucky and you off and left. Years later he comes back, now where Thanos was on his way.

Chapter Summary: Y/N had to learn how to live with the fact that Steve was no longer part of her life. She now lived in Wakanda, along with Bucky. Although, her thoughts troubled her every minute, she missed Steve and was still wondering why he suddenly behaved like that. Meanwhile, Bucky realizes that she is getting worse every day.

Words: 3,808

Authors Note: I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say this is the best story I've ever written so far.

____________________________________

Steve ignored Y/N's questions about where they were heading next and sat next to Natasha who flew the jet. Even though she found that very strange, as he never kept secrets from her, she gave up after a while and sat in the back of the Quinjet and listened with sam to some music as both of them had the same taste.

After a while, which seemed like hours to Y/N, she heard Natasha mumbling to herself, that she had almost forgotten how nice it was here and for a little moment, Y/N hoped they would be at home again.

Y/N missed her old live and the rest of her family, she didn't regret choosing Steve's side a single day, it was the right choice. She still missed her brother, Pepper and all the others very much but did they missed her too? After what she did?

__________________________

“Steve, what’re we doing here?” Y/N questioned him while she was gazing at him all in love. “Honeymoon comes after the wedding.” She joked.

Y/N looked around and admired Wakanda's beauty. It looked perfect, as if everything was in harmony.

Natasha made Bucky and Sam aware, that Steve and Y/N needed a moment and so they went into the palace of King T’Challa. She looked after them questioningly.

Steve took gently her Hand and placed a kiss on top of it. “I decided, th-that I’d be the best for everyone, the best for you - if Bucky and you’d stay here in Wakanda.” He bit his lips nervously.

He then kept talking, but Y/N could barely concentrate on what he was saying. She looked at him and couldn't believe what he was up to. Leaving her behind, why? Was that really Steve in front of Y/N, her Steve? The Steve Y/N knew and loved, would never leave her behind. Especially not after she had left her family for him.

“For your own safety.” He gasped.

He had said a lot to explain himself, but Y/N could only concentrate on one thing.

She shook her head in disbelief. “For MY safety?” Y/N looked very serious. “May I briefly remind you who fought with you, side by side, in New York and DC? Who was by your side and fought against her own brother, the only living family I have.”

Y/N crossed her arms and thighted her fists, she clenched her teeth while trying not to cry, “And may I also remind you who can take good care of herself? That would be me. Rogers, I was able to defend myself without you back then and I still can. So don’t you dare lie to me. What’s this really about?”

Y/N glared at Steve and saw how nervous and hurt he was. If she hadn’t been so mad and confused, she'd have noticed that it wasn't an easy decision for him. But Y/N didn't want to see any of that. Steve gave her the feeling of being a burden, a weakness for the team and especially for him.

She turned her face away from him. “And you think, just because you want me to stay here, I actually will?” Y/N faked a laugh and lifted her arms up. “Who do you think you’re? You probably forgot who you’re talking to.”

She turned back to Steve, in her eyes - pure frustration. You could've thought that she would punch him to the ground any second.

“I'm Y/N Stark, fighter, genius and billionaire, just like my brother. You also forgot that I’m probably stronger than everyone here, so, I'm getting out.”

Steve put his hands on his hips. “No Y/N, you wont. You’re also still a refugee. I also don't think Tony or the Senate would be happy if you come back.” He puffed out his chest. “That being said, Bucky needs help and I order you to stay here to help him. You are the two most important people in my life and I need to know that you take care of each other and that you are safe.” Steve scratched the back of his neck.

She buried her hand in her hair. Y/N knew he was lying and something was off, his body language gave him away. Also order? He never put his Captain Modus at her. But she couldn't look at the man standing in front of her any longer without tearing her heart apart. Her body felt like it was covered in Lava, angry and close to tears she turned away from him.

A tear rolled down her face only she wasn’t a woman who liked to show weakness and quickly washed it away.

Y/N knew it was hopeless. "I know you're lying or I just never really knew you at all.”

She wouldn't turn around again, she wouldn't do Steve the favor of seeing her broken like this. For the first time in years, Y/N regretted choosing Steve over her actual family. Maybe now it was time to be a real Stark again.

“I always knew how to separate wrong and right,” She chuckled slightly. “that's why I chose you back then, but Tony was right all along, you were and always will be wrong for me." She exhaled.

Y/N could hold her tears now, she was strong enough to turn around and face him. Y/N noticed the harm she was doing to him with her words.

“Only one more thing, because we were always honest with each other. Or so I thought” Her tone changed sarcastically. “Anyway, I should give it back to you-”

“-No no, Y/N. No, this is not-”

She gave him his mothers family ring back, which she wore around her neck during missions. “I’m sure I don’t want a fiancè, who seems to not love me enough.”

Steve covered his mouth, you could feel the doubt and regret he was having, but that didn't change a thing for Y/N. If there was one thing she hated the most, then it was being lied to. Y/N would always forgive and somehow understand everything and everyone, trying to find a solution, but she didn’t accept lies, she had had enough of that in her childhood already. In fact, Tony and she were alike as for that. Still, Steve wouldn't have expected her to be so hurt and break the engagement.

“I love you with all I’ve and you’ll understand. I-I promise, Baby.” He replied with a shaky voice.

Natasha and Sam seemed to have witnessed everything, probably everyone had. Y/N felt the penetrating looks on her. The two wouldn’t even dare to speak to Y/N while they came out of the palace. Natasha touched Steve's shoulder lightly to show him they were ready, Nat threw Y/N a look she had never seen before and walked with Sam to the Quinjet.

Bucky came out of the palace too, but when Y/N's and his eyes met he walked more carefully than Natasha and Sam, until he finally stopped. Steve turned around, Y/N couldn't see what he was showing, or maybe even saying to Bucky, but he understood, nodded and went back to the palace.

Steve walked in the direction of the Quinjet, but turned back to Y/N. He wanted to go back, kiss her and say that he'll be back soon, that everything would be all right. But she hated lies and he wouldn't dare tell another one.

__________________________

Y/N didn't wait for the Quinjet to take off, she left, then she ran after Bucky.

“Did you know?” Bucky sure must’ve heard her question but he chose not to answer. She then shouted. “Barnes, did you know?!”

Y/N had special powers, she lifted her right arm up and made the gesture like turning Bucky around to face her. She held him against the wall without touching him. She was telekinetic and Bucky couldn’t even move a finger as long as she held him.

Y/N could barely contain her anger until she saw how frightened Bucky was. Eventually she let him go. Y/N took control of his will, like the people who experimented on him back then. She didn't say it out-loud, but at the moment were she saw him gasping for air, for control, she promised him never to use her powers against him again. Then she collapsed.

__________________________

Y/N woke up in a huge bed and in an even bigger dormitory. She sat up, touched her head and remembered what she did and what had happened that she snapped. She hoped so much it was all just a bad dream.

“I knew he wanted to get help for me. I didn’t know he’d leave you behind.”

She saw Bucky sitting at the end of the room. The moment she looked at him he winced a bit.

Y/N covered her mouth, “Bucky, Bucky I-I’am so sorry.” trying to contain her tears. “I thought by now I could control it.”

Bucky got up and walked over to her, sat down at the end of the bed and nodded. “I know.” For Bucky, Y/N was the only person besides Steve whom he trusted.

Steve often talked about Bucky, so often that Y/N felt like she was with them back in the days. So Steve didn't have to bother to convince her to look for Bucky and help him when he was on the run.

Y/N couldn't wipe a tear away as quickly as she would have wanted and Bucky saw it. He didn't want to make her feel the same way Steve did, that she was left behind. But Bucky hadn't had much practice in dealing with people and their feelings.

“Do you think, he left me because he wanted you to be safe and not alone?”

Bucky held the back of his neck and didn't look at Y/N. He didn't hear what she said to Steve in front of the palace, his lip-reading wasn’t that fast. He still was sure Steve visibly lied to her, but he saw her anger and then even had to feel it. He didn't want to answer the question. But he couldn’t afford not answering them as he wanted to do -to be better.

“Kinda but-”

“Ms. Stark, Mr. Barnes.” T’Challa greeted them. “It’s a pleasure.”

Bucky was relieved he didn't have to answer her question.

“That you’re not after us and not trying to kill us, I agree.” Y/N growled back.

The last time Bucky and Y/N met T'Challa wasn’t particularly pleasant. She was still unsure about the King of Wakanda, he was a stranger, he fought against her and her friends and she was sure, even if wakanda was gorgeous, it would become a prison to her at some point. It already felt like she was sitting in a gold cage.

“Watch your tongue.” Okoye hissed.

T’Challa lifted his hand at her. “It’s fine Okoye. Anyway, this is your new home now. You can live as you please, as long as you make your contribution.” He pointed out politely and at the same time decisively. “You can decide for yourself whether you live in the palace or prefer a cozy home alone. You are now part of the Wakanda family, I want you to feel comfortable. Share your wishes with my assistants.”

Even after the past that Y/N, Bucky and T'Challa had, he was very polite and Y/N somehow appreciated that.

“I just wish that both of you will be joining me for dinner every Sunday evening in the palace, its Tradition.”

__________________________

The first week passed very quickly for Y/N. Bucky and Y/N each decided to have their own home. Neither wanted to sleep in a huge palace, where they would be watched and feel more locked up than free.

Everyday wondering why Steve left her behind, she trained tirelessly. She even trained more than Bucky which seemed impossible.

“You should take a shower.” Bucky called to her.

“You, should leave me alone.” Y/N recommended as she hit a tree as if it was Steve’s face.

Y/N didn't even turn around, she didn't care if Bucky was there or not. She wanted to be left alone and she let everyone feel it.

Bucky placed a dress on Y/N's chair. “It’s Sunday.”

She turned around, crossed her arms and was ready to say how much she didn't care about that dinner with T'Challa and his family, but her voice didn't make a sound when she noticed Bucky’s hair tied up in a man bun and outrageously handsome in a suit.

She smirked. “Shuri wanted me to wear it.” He growled and looked away.

“She has probably made more progress with you than we could ever have done. You look handsome.“

Y/N opened her boxing gloves with her mouth. Not that the gloves had any use, Y/N's hands looked like they were hitting something all the time, even Bucky was wondering why they weren't broken yet. Maybe he hoped she would break them somehow, so she could find a moment to actually deal with her problems, as Shuri would say now.

“Anyway, I should bring you the dress. I did, it’s up to you. See you later.”

__________________________

Bucky noticed T'Challa visibly disappointed face as Y/N wasn’t appearing. But after 15 minutes, he didn't want to wait any longer for dinner. Bucky glanced at him to apologize for her behavior.

T'Challa raised his glass and the others joined him. "To our new friends"

Just when everyone were about click their glasses together, the big hall door opened and Y/N entered. She was wearing a stunning red dress. (Here!). Her hair was tied up, her make-up was very soft. It almost seemed as if she didn't have any on her and would naturally look perfect, but under the make-up there was an exhausted woman.

“I apologize for my late appearance, Your Majesty.” She held her dress with both hands and curtsied.

T’Challa nodded, he was happy she decided to join.

The King mother looked questioned. Y/N’s behavior wasn’t usually tolerated in Wakanda, when the king invites you, especially to dinner at the same table with his family, then you had to be on time. Without any excuse.

When Y/N wanted to take a chair, Bucky got up and helped her. Almost everyone was amazed about his action, as he was only known as a dangerous assassin. For Bucky it was natural to help a beautiful Dame to sit down, his parents had been taught him that, and even H.Y.D.R.A. couldn’t let him forget those kind of manners.

“You see, I have already made good progress with him.“ Shuri said proud.

“Thank you.” Y/N whispered and Bucky nodded soft.

If Y/N should have been honest, she was glad to have had a normal dinner after so long. Even though her thoughts were still around Steve, it was nice. T'Challa's family welcomed Bucky and her like their own.

Still, Y/N excused herself early. She said she was tired, thanked for the food and left the palace.

__________________________

When Y/N was finally out of sight of the palace guards, she looked around again to make sure that she couldn’t be seen or heard. She went behind a bush and threw up. The food was delicious, but she couldn't keep it in her for a second longer. She wiped her mouth with her arm and smeared it on the dress. That wasn't particularly Ladylike, but she couldn't have cared less about that.

What Y/N didn't notice was that Bucky had followed her. Not to check where she was going, but because they both had their homes side by side and it was difficult for Bucky to be social with so many strangers around for a long time.

She came out from behind the bush and held her stomach and forehead, was that a side effect of her powers? Should she have listened to Tony and not experimented on herself? But why was she feeling so bad now? Her powers had no negative effect on her for years. Bucky didn't know what to do, he wanted to help her, but it was obvious that she didn't want anyone to see her. He waited until she finished and followed her unobtrusively to be sure that Y/N would come home safe.

When Bucky went to bed he thought for a while about what he just saw. He was worried if Y/N’s overall situation made her sick, everything that happened to her, that Steve broke her heart. He was overwhelmed, caring about people was taken away from him by H.Y.D.R.A., to learn it again now and to feel it again, to be able to be the master of his own will, that was all new.

__________________________

A few months passed and Y/N and Bucky were slowly settling into Wakanda. After a while Y/N even joined the Dora Milaje. She was already a trained fighter, and she had her special gifts. She was a perfect fit and it occupied her.

Bucky worked hard with Shuri to ensure that what H.Y.D.R.A. had done to him to undo and it worked day by day.

“Hey Buck,” Y/N waved. “I think they love you.” She laughed lightly as the goats followed Bucky every step.

Y/N and Bucky got along better every day, now that she had a task and Bucky was making new progress every day. In addition, even if they both wouldn’t admit it, they only trusted each other.

He imitated her laugh, which only made her laugh even more. Y/N packed into the side pockets of her jacket and took out some snacks for the goats, throwing them far enough for Bucky to rest for a few minutes

"I think we should build an enclosure and a home for them. Right in front of our houses. They need a home too and to be honest I love these cute goats." She pet the only baby goat, which was still graving for Bucky’s attention.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “But not right in front of the houses. They’re loud.”

__________________________

Bucky couldn't understand why Y/N liked the goats so much, they stank, were loud and unbearably intrusive for his taste but they made her smile, maybe that was the only reason why he decided on the same day with the start building an enclosure.

Y/N insisted on helping Bucky, first she tried to bring the wood for the fence from one place to the other with her powers, but it exhausted her. She tried like Bucky without her telekinesis, which was ironic because he had a super arm and a super soldier serum, but she didn't last long and had to sit on the ground. The baby goat seized her chance and ran to Y/N like her life depended on being petted by her. It made Y/N giggle.

Bucky starred at Y/N and the little goat attentively, she trained every day but it seemed as if Y/N would only get weaker, he was afraid she would collapse any second. It still warmed his heart to see her smile.

“Is it your serum?” He questioned careful not sure if he had the right to ask.

She looked up to him, “What’re you talking about?”

Bucky put the last nail in the fence and when the enclosure was finished, he knealed down to her and touched softly her forehead. Y/N's eyes widened when Bucky touched her, usually he was keeping his distance. Y/N was pale but felt hot. Normally she wouldn't have minded the little bit of wood sawing, she would probably have finished sawing faster than Bucky. But she could hardly keep herself even awake.

She took a deep breath. “Its not the serum, It’s stable, I’m sure. Bucky, I'm fine, don't worry. I-I need just a little brea-”

Y/N was about to fall to the ground, but Bucky caught her in time. The little goat jumped.

"No, you need a doctor" Y/N was passed out.

Bucky had to put Y/N gently on the ground for a second, only God knows what she would have done to him, if he had left the baby goat unattended. He raised it over the fence, raised his index finger to make it clear to the little goat that she shouldn't follow him and stay there.

He turned back to Y/N, slipping his right arm under her head while placing his left arm under her legs. He picked her up carefully and ran as fast as he could with her in his arms to see Shuri.

__________________________

Shuri already saw Bucky and Y/N on her security cameras. She opened the entrance and had Bucky place Y/N on some sort of technical table. She did a few scans, which felt like hours to Bucky. His eyes never let go of Y/N, he had to promise Steve to watch out for her and now she was lying here unconscious. He felt like he had failed his best friend.

Bucky touched nrvous his arm. "We-we were going to build a fence for the goats because Y/N thought it would be better if they also had a home." Shuri looked at him questioningly as she scanned the condition of Y/N. Shuri had never seen Bucky like this before, not even when she rewired Bucky's brain, even when she brought up the uncomfortable subject, his past - He was always calm. He made sure that people around him were calmed when they wanted to panic. Shuri saw for the first time how Bucky’s his feelings got the better of him, when he blamed himself for Y/N’s condition.

Y/N woke up and was confused where about she was. She was sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

Bucky noticed her fear, Shuri's tech scared even him when he wasn't on this table. He took her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him, which it surely wasn’t. Shuri put a breathing mask on Y/N to help her regain stable breathing. Y/N ran a tear down the side of her cheek, Bucky knew how uncomfortable it was for her to show weakness and made sure he wiped the tear away before Shuri noticed. He winked at Y/N which made her smile soft.

She tried to take off the mask to tell Bucky something, but he wouldn't let her, it was more important to him that she breathed. They could talk later.

Shuri's scans were done. She looked at them and then turned quickly to Y/N and couldn't believe what she just found out. She took off the mask of Y/N, it looked very rough for Bucky so he intervened and grabbed Shuri by her arm.

“Easy” He growled. Y/N squeezed his arm lightly to show him that it was okay.

“Did you know?!” Shuri questioned Y/N.

She nodded. “But not for sure.” She replied weak.

“For how long, I need to know or-”

“-Or what, what is going on here?!” Bucky nearly panicked. “Do something, help her!”

Yet Shuri couldn't have cared less about Bucky right now. She ran through her lab, typed on her computers, and even called out a distress signal. Suddenly an incredible amount of people ran into the laboratory.

Y/N looked at him, took his hand and squeezed it again to comfort him. He should focus on her and not on all those strangers. “I’ll be fine, Bucky.” Y/N was about to pass out again.

“Keep her awake!” Shuri shouted. “The Baby comes now...”

Bucky heard what Shuri was said and yet, it was as if they didn't speak the same language. A baby?! Since when? Y/N didn't look like a typical pregnant woman, she trained every damn day, nobody would do that if she was pregnant.

“You need to leave!” Shuri yelled at Bucky but he didn’t move a feet.

“I’m right were I belong, wanna fight about that or tell me how i can help them both?” He asked her and raised his eyebrow.

______________________________

Hope you liked the first part and please leave a comment <3

111 notes · View notes