Lucid Romances

A swarm of paramedics, police, and pro heroes surrounded the USJ as the sun descended.  Class 1A should have returned home an hour ago, exhausted from a full afternoon of training, but otherwise unharmed.  Instead, they stood in circles with their friends, as Recovery Girl made rounds between them.  Principal Nezu and Toshinori spoke with the lead detectives on the scene. 

Three staff members lingered by the ambulances.  Paramedics slammed the doors on one van to transport Thirteen to the nearest hospital, but with his shattered limb, fractured face, nerve damage, and blood loss, they hesitated to move him through the busy streets of Musutafu City.  

“He’ll be fine,” Nemuri murmured between the three of them.  “We’ve found him in bad shape before.” 

“Not like this,” Hizashi countered.  He hadn’t looked away from his friend’s prone form.  “The entire left side of his face looks caved in.  His arm, too, did you see it? Whatever that guy did, it went right down to the muscle.” 

“I’m going to puke.”  (y/n) closed her eyes.  As she braced her hand against her stomach, her mind flooded with memories from earlier that morning. 

Aizawa stayed the night at her apartment.  He slipped in, invited, after hours of patrol.  He always came to her wary and exhausted, but instead of lamenting on the hardships of his day, he cradled her face in his calloused palms and pressed her hard into the mattress.  Then, after just a few hours of rest, she woke with his arms wrapped around her, and his face pressed into the curve of her neck.  His breath warm on her skin,  his body a welcome distraction, she begged him to stay longer when his alarm went off.   “Take a shower here,” she convinced him with a kiss. “Spoil me with another hour of your time.”   He stayed, they showered together, had coffee in her designer mugs that he teased her for, then drove separately to the school.   As if nothing had happened, they went their separate ways for the day, with the only sign of their night together being the smell of Aizawa’s oddly sweet shampoo. 

“Hey.” UA’s secretary pushed in to join the group by the ambulance.  She clutched at the beaded necklace around her throat. “Fatgum and Ingenium have their agencies looking for the guy that All Might threw through the roof.  Hopefully, they can bring him in before he hurts anyone else.  They have the other villains Shota took down ready for transport; most are already in the criminal database.  How is he?” 

A paramedic answered for the group.  She leaned out the back of the van, her jaw clenched and her gaze downcast.  “We called in a police escort, and we have a team on standby at Central Hospital.  Are any of you family?” 

“He doesn’t talk to his folks.  I’m his emergency contact.”  Hizashi stepped forward, and the paramedic leaned back to let him inside the ambulance.  

(y/n) took a small step forward, but then stopped short when the paramedic turned to her with an impatient once-over.  “Girlfriend? Wife?” 

“No.” 

“Then you’ll have to wait until he can have visitors.”  The ambulance door slammed shut, and then the van drove away, with a hero fighting for his life on the inside.   

In his absence, chaos erupted.  Class 1A broke formation, abandoning their groups and interviews with the police, to approach their counselor instead.   Tsu is the first to speak, well aware that her teacher is the only reason she survived the brutal encounter.  “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” (y/n) answered, but then she looked down at two dozen wide-eyed stares. Only a few months into the school year, she was still getting used to working with children, especially the first-years, who were just beginning to see what their futures held.   Some part of her knew she should probably scold them for getting involved, or trying to fight off the villains spread throughout the USJ, but she was just glad that they had survived, and wanted to treat them as she saw them now: children who needed comfort.  “What I do know is that Mr. Aizawa is tough.  We’ve all known him a long time, and he’s taken some pretty good hits. I’m sure the doctors will do everything they can to get him back on his feet, and as soon as he is, he’ll be right back here to be with you.” 

“He only got as hurt as he did because he was protecting us,” Mina responded, with some of her classmates murmuring their agreement. 

“He got hurt because those villains chose to attack innocent students.  You stood your ground, too.  Some of you were forced to fight, others did what you could to make sure Thirteen and Aizawa didn’t die today.  You did that.  I know it was hard, and I know it was scary, but you’ve just taken a plunge into the hero world.  Finish cooperating with the police.  Take tomorrow to come to terms with today, and then when you come back, rest assured that the rest of us will be here to help you keep moving forward.” 

“That’s quite the speech.” Nezu sat on Toshinori’s shoulder as he made his way through the crowd of students.  He no longer looked like All Might, but a member of the staff who helped the administration.  “We have more heroes coming to canvas the area, and we just received the all-clear to allow parents onto campus.”

“That said,” Toshinori offered with a smile.  “I’m sure you three want to go be with Aizawa.  Vlad and I can stay with the students until they make it home.” 

“Thank you, Toshinori.” Nemuri placed a hand on (y/n)’s shoulder, and together the three women pushed through the crowd to reach UA’s parking lot. 

—--

Thirteen woke up first.  After the warp-gate villain forced them to use their Black Hole quirk against themselves, they not only lost part of their hero costume, but also part of their ribcage into the abyss.  Modern medicine can only carry wounded heroes so far, but a missing rib and skin graft left Anan irritated, pained, and desperate for vengeance.  At the very least, they wanted the men responsible for the USJ attack brought in for justice. Their colleagues agreed: UA’s security systems had never been bested before that day, and having their students threatened under their noses lit a fire in them so hot that none of them could relax as the hours went on. 

After Aizawa’s operation, the hospital staff finally allowed visitors.  The UA staff bid Thirteen farewell as they drifted into a drug-induced sleep before slipping into Aizawa’s room, where his body lay bandaged from the chest up, and his left arm hung in the air from a ceiling lift.  Miraculously, he survived, but only by a hair.   Not only had the attack fractured his face in several places, but it had also broken each of his arms, exposed his muscles, and ruined the nerves in his left arm.  The doctors spoke of damage to his quirk, but they couldn’t be sure until he woke up.  

(y/n) sat in the chair next to Hizashi.  Her leg bounced sporadically as she stared at the bandaged man before them.  He looked terrible, and her heart skipped a beat every time she replayed the moment the heroes broke into the USJ, just to find him screaming as that thing crunched his body into the floor.  

“He talked about you,” Hizashi said.

(y/n) tensed. “What?” 

“In the ambulance.  He was totally out of it, but he mumbled your name a few times.  I tried to tell him that you were fine, but it sounded like you were on his mind.” 

“Oh.” 

“He probably heard you screaming in the USJ.” 

“Probably.” 

Aizawa’s heart monitor droned on in the silence. 

 (Y/n) stopped listening to the sound when Hizashi continued to speak, in a low, accusatory voice:  “He told me to stay out of it.  It’s his business, but I don’t understand why you’re giving him the run around.  He’s liked you for a long time,  and just as he was ready to move on, you show up at UA and start up this fling again.  Sho’s life has been messy and hard, and he needs consistency.  I know you can see how much he’s changed. How good the school has been for him.  You can be good for him, too, I think, but only if you stop messing around.” 

“I’m not messing around,” (y/n) laughed.  It drew the eye of the others. There’s heat in the sound, an exasperated anger that she can’t contain. “Shouta is my friend. I care about him.” 

“A friend?”  Hizashi pressed.  “He’s my friend too, but he doesn’t come to work smelling like my shampoo.” 

“Yamada-” 

“-Sasaki. What’s stopping you from stepping over that line? We go to work every day, knowing it could be our last.  We’ve all been fuck ups in some way since the beginning, since we met fifteen years ago, but we’re all still here, standing in this room together, around the same man that we love.   He doesn’t care what baggage you have, he doesn’t care what mistakes you’ve made, or how messy you are.  Trust me, I’ve heard enough about it to know.  Just like when I heard you scream for him earlier today, I knew that you would take all of him, the good, the bad, and the ugly, in an instant.” 

(y/n) sucked in a deep breath.  

Her anger soothed; it simmered into an ache deep in her chest. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this,” she said, her voice tight. “That’s all.” 

“On that, we can agree.”

“He could do better than me.  We all know that.  He deserves better than me, but I’m too selfish to let him go.  I can’t stand the thought of him  being with anyone else; it kills me.” 

“Then do better.” Hizashi reasoned. “Be better.   If not for yourself, then for him.  He deserves that much, doesn’t he?  At that point, it should be his choice on whether he wants to stay with you or not.  Between you and me, though, he likes you as you are.” 

“Paging Doctor Yamada?” Nemuri teased. “Should he take some of his own advice? When is the last time you went on a date?” 

“That’s different.  I don’t have time to date.” 

(y/n) let the conversation drift.  She leaned back in her chair and watched Aizawa’s monitor as his heart beat continued to climb. 

—-- 

Coffee from the vending machine always tasted stale,  but (y/n) threw it back like a bottle of Premium Malt.   A lifetime ago,  she might have fled the hospital to find the nearest bar,  as the smell of antiseptic and the sound of squeaking gurney wheels brought back bad memories.  Now she was prepared for her third night in the hospital, where she came after her school shift to sleep in the plastic chairs and watch as the nurses took Aizawa’s vitals.  

The others came and went. Hizashi stayed with her the night before.  Fae did the day shift, calling out of work just so her friend wouldn’t feel alone in the cold, sterile room.  She took a deep breath as she entered the room again, before she took her spot at his bedside, and watched as the painkillers dripped into his IV.  Her phone rang. 

She answered without looking, not surprised to hear her older brother’s voice come through the line. 

“Hey,”  Mirai said. “How is he?” 

“Same as yesterday.” 

“How’re you?” 

“I still haven’t looked.  You don’t have to keep checking in on me, I’m too scared to do it… I think I finally understand how you felt when Toshinori left.  I don’t know how you bounced back knowing that he was out there doing hero work when he’s as sick as he is.” 

“Your memory’s foggy.  I didn’t bounce back.  Not at first.  I watched every news broadcast as if it would tell me about the end of the world. He’s stubborn to a fault, and when I realized he would keep fighting for the good of humanity, even at the cost of his life, that’s when I looked into starting my own agency.  I became a hero to help people, not to be in his shadow.  I still hate that he endangers himself, but I know he’s at less risk when he’s at UA.  At least, he was supposed to be.  Grand Torino said that the fight with the creature took a lot out of him.” 

“Everything takes a lot out of him.”  (y/n) agreed.  “When he’s stuck as Small Might,  the staff and I take turns babysitting him.  We don’t push him too hard.” 

“Small Might?” 

“Yeah, you know, Toshinori’s pretty… I guess you haven’t seen him, huh? He’s not looking good.” 

“I’ve seen pictures. Does he know you call him that?” 

“No.” 

Mirai laughed.  “That would be like calling Sorahiko Tiny Torino.” 

“It’s nothing like that,” (y/n) said. “Toshinori has a sense of humor. Gran Torino would leave me dead in a ditch.” 

“No, you’re his favorite.” Mirai corrected. “You’ve got guts.  More like the rough-and-tumble heroes of his time,  and you can outdrink him.” 

“I still have a working liver.” 

“For now.” 

(y/n) grinned to herself, and as if hearing it through the phone, Mirai asked: 

“Feeling better?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

“It’s what siblings are for.”  He yawned on his side of the line.  “Mother wants to know if you’re serious about the teacher.  She doesn’t like his reputation; she took it upon herself to pull his records and reports.  You know, aside from UA, he doesn’t have any showy rescues or Agency backings that put him in the spotlight.” 

“So she doesn’t like him?”

“She doesn’t understand why you like him.” 

“Did she miss the part where he singlehandedly held off some thirty villains,  protected his students, and somehow survived an attack that should have killed him?” 

“She’s frustrated that UA refuses to comment.  At least, no one will give an interview about him.  She asked me to ask you, and I took the liberty of telling her no.” 

“Appreciate it.” 

“Mhm.  That will only work for so long.  Once she catches wind of Aizawa waking up, I imagine she’ll have reporters showing up to visit the hospital.   If she doesn’t show up personally, she’ll want to make sure he looks good for the family’s image.  She tried to reach out to the Aizawas-” 

“She what?” 

“-But they said he’s estranged, has nothing to do with them, their wealth, or the family holdings.  He gave up his inheritance when he graduated from UA, and hasn’t gone back to visit more than a handful of times.  She didn’t like that either, but admitted that he sounds perfect for you.” 

“You know that wasn’t a compliment, right?” 

“Well, I think she’s right, and I do mean it as a compliment.” 

“Mirai-” 

“Don’t ‘Mirai’ me,  I’ve watched the two of you interact for the past ten years.  It’s my job to read people, little sister, and nobody makes you happier than the man you’re sitting beside right now. He makes you glow, puts some life into you. Like he’s giving something back that you lost a long time ago.” 

“Okay, you feel very passionate about this.” 

“I know what being in love feels like, and how much it hurts to lose.  If you’re going to take advice from me, let it be this: Embrace the good thing before it’s gone.”

(y/n) leaned back in her chair.  She imagined her older brother across the city, likely held up in his office at the Night Eye agency, clutching his phone and getting sentimental as he neared his forties.  “You sound like Grandmama Rinu.” 

“Great.  I’m hanging up now.” 

“Night-” 

“Goodnight-” 

The receiver clicked. 

Silence filled the room. 

(y/n) sighed and stared at the picture on her home screen. 

Greedily, she had changed it to a blurry image of Aizawa holding her hostage on his couch.  She’s tangled between his arms and legs, and an oversized throw-blanket.  It’s late, and the light from the TV distorts their faces.  She stayed later than planned, and an afternoon of grading papers turned into an evening of takeout, sly kisses, and a marathon of an outdated detective drama.   

She loved that picture. 

She wanted more nights like that. 

—--

(y/n) brought paperwork with her on the fifth night.  She flipped through student files and studied new intake forms for some of her newest patients when she heard a pained groan from the bed.  Her heart stopped, and she sat up in time to watch Aizawa’s shaking hand reach for his bandaged face.  The files get thrown to the floor, and she’s on her feet.  In the days that passed, she watched the nurses change his bandages, so she slipped her fingers beneath the place where it hooked beneath his chin and slowly pried the fabric loose, slowly allowing him to see the hospital room. 

Tears brewed in her eyes as she took stock of the smaller bandages clinging to his face, and the nasty, yellow bruises that littered his jaw.  His left eye still swelled, so he only looked at her with the right.  “What are you doing here?”   He slurred out, his mouth barely moving to form the words.  “Should be home.” 

“Home?” (y/n) asked incredulously. “Shota, are you kidding? You almost died.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay! We’re so fucking far from okay.  You’re in the ICU.” 

He shrugged.  The movement made him recoil from himself with another groan, and (y/n) reached over his head to press the call light beside his bed.   

She said.  “Do you remember what happened?”

“Most of it.  I think.  Is everyone else okay?” 

“The students are shaken up, but they’re mostly worried about you.  Anan is on medical leave, but they got to go home yesterday.  Tsukauchi and Tai tracked down the guy who did this to you—the big one,  not the kid.   Snipe got a few hits on him; he was bleeding pretty good before he escaped.” 

“I heard the gunshots.  Hizashi, too…” 

“So you were awake?” 

“It’s hard to sleep when your best friend sounds like a siren.” He paused. “I heard you, too.  I remember thinkin’ I should answer you, let you know that I was okay, but I couldn’t get the words out.” 

“Honey,”

He laughed. 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to tease me right now? Really?” 

“Can’t help it.  You sound so… I dunno, but it’s just drippin’ out of your voice.” 

For a moment, (y/n) considered reapplying his bandages.  “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to be an ass.” 

“It’s the drugs.” 

“Definitely the drugs.” 

His call light turned off.  Nurses were on their way. 

“Hey, Sho?” 

“Hm?” 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” 

“Me too.” 

“Can we talk when you’re feeling better? I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

The smell of Earl Grey Tea and Lavender Bubbles filled the honeymoon suite.  The sun barely peeked over Paris as (Y/n) Vargas leaned back in a nearly overflowing Jacuzzi tub.  The jets massaged her hips as she sipped from a glass of wine and watched her partner flit across the room. When they had landed in Paris the night before, he wore a leather jacket and a shirt with a popped collar, showing off her name inked across his collarbone, right beside the North Star. 

She remembered kissing against the shell of his ear, just to taste the metal of the chair that went from his double helix piercing to his earlobe. She even found the streaks of red in his hair adorable, but all of that was gone from his morning appearance.  His piercings gone, his tattoos covered, and his hair styled to hide the color, he looked like a proper English Gentleman. 

His breakfast sat unfinished in the suite’s kitchenette.

(Y/n) slammed back her wine and put the glass on the tiled floor beside her.  It was inhumane for a world meeting to have him this stressed.  

“Amore?” She called sweetly. 

“Yes, love?” Arthur turned from the bedroom mirror to regard her.  He didn't need to look as he fastened his tie. 

“Can I have a kiss before you go?” She moved to lean against the edge of the tub.  Bubbles clung to her skin, while her hair fell in watery strands around her face. 

“Is that even a question?” Arthur closes the distance between them. He bent at the knee, falling into the same stance a knight might when beholding royalty.  One hand comes to cradle her cheek, and he leads her into a soft, lingering kiss. 

 (Y/n)'s heart melted at his gentle mood. 

But he should have known better.

She reached for him, her arms closed around his shoulders to drag him closer.  

His free hand braced against the edge of the tub as he leaned precariously over the tub, but she had already soaked his clothes. A shiver rippled down his spine as the damp fabric stuck to his skin. “(Y/n),” he warned. 

“Hm?” 

“I have to go.” He whispered against her lips. 

“You'll go,” (Y/n) agreed. “But you'll have me first.” 

Arthur drew back. Far enough to meet her eye. The mischief he found there set his heart ablaze. He didn't know how there could be so much life in one person, even after centuries, but (Y/n) had a spirit that would never die.  

That look had bewitched him, body and soul, and he'd be damned before he told her no. 

Arthur shrugged off his suit top and threw it to the ground. At the same time, (Y/n) cards her fingers up his chest, popping the buttons of his shirt until she could see her name, and the neck of a guitar climbing up the length of his left ribcage. 

When Arthur came back for a kiss, some of that gentleness had waned, as he encouraged (Y/n)'s lips apart with a seeking tongue.  (Y/n) moaned into his mouth, still able to taste the sweet tea and scones that he'd barely made time to enjoy. With her skin bare, wet, and cold, she jolted forward when his warm hands fell to her bare back, pulling her flush against him. 

With her bare chest against his, she was grateful for the tub between them, as it gave her enough room to grasp him by the belt. She struggled with the buckle, grumbling in frustration when her slick fingers failed to grip the fastener.  Arthur smiled, and she could hear his smug remark without words. 

‘Aren't you impatient, my wicked little thing?’

One of his hands moved to help her, and within seconds, he was not only kicking off his shoes but dropping his dress pants down to the ankle. What (Y/n) could do with extreme confidence was grasp him between the fabric of his boxers. His breath caught in his throat as she rubbed at his growing erection. 

He ended their kiss to trail his lips to her neck.  She loved the spot just below her ear, and he sucked greedily as she dragged his boxers down his hips. He lolled free between them, throbbing and heavy.  

(Y/n) doesn't think twice about dragging her thumb along the underside of his cock, then gathering the precum at his tip into her palm. Arthur's teeth grazed her throat as she finally stroked him.  

He let her tease him as he continued his descent, marring her neck to dip past the collarbone and take one of her breasts into his mouth. He soaked and swirled her nipple with his tongue, and her other hand tangled in his hair in retaliation. 

In better circumstances, he would have stayed in that position longer, but he could feel the goosebumps flooding her skin from hanging out of the water, and he was either getting in with her or dragging her out before he was done.  

It was at the crest of another slow stroke that he dragged himself away from (Y/n) with a groan. “I've a crazy idea.” 

“My favorite kind.” (Y/n) continued to work him, her wrist twisting absently as she slid her hand up, and down, and back again. “What is it?” 

Arthur exhaled deeply before he bent to press a button on the Jacuzzi. The jets went up a setting, sending a torrent of water across the tub to hit (Y/n)'s thigh. 

Arthur grasped her chin between his fingers, his thumb pressed against her bottom lip. “Spread those legs for me, darling.” 

(Y/n)’s mind blanked. She loved it when he talked to her like that. That spark of his former self returned, and no matter how far he might push, she got off knowing he viewed her as the greatest treasure in the world. Not a jewel compared, not a ship or a crew, and that’s why he always came to kill when someone took her away against her will.  Those times were long gone now; people were more civil in the modern age, but she still spread her legs and arched her back when the water hit her clit just right. The merciless vibrations have her grabbing the edge of the tub to keep upright. 

Arthur watched her face contort in pleasure. Then she angled her hips back, and the sight of her pleasuring herself was far too much. He pressed down on her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth wordlessly.  Her eyes found his again, and she didn’t break his stare as he grasped himself and brought his tip to glide over her waiting tongue. 

They had spent centuries getting one another off, but (Y/n) never tired of the way he cursed in that deep, throaty voice whenever she deep-throated him. The hollowing of her cheeks and the slow breathing through her nose were practiced techniques as she sucked against him. One of his hands fisted in her hair. Mercifully,  he was using her mouth as a good distraction from the pleasure already piquing between her thighs. 

Tears brewed in the corner of her vision, and she had to press her thighs together to stop herself from orgasming within mere minutes. She wanted it to last longer, for his tongue to lick her dry, and for his second orgasm to make a mess of her again.  Those thoughts did nothing to stop the building ache in her core; she was so close.  She drew her knees beneath her. The turrent hit her lower back, pushing her closer to the edge of the tub, and she sucked hard on Arthur’s cock to keep from gagging herself. 

Arthur’s hips stuttered. His knees buckled against the tub edge. “Fuck. Love, do that again.” 

(Y/n) complied, just as Arthur’s phone rang from his suit pocket.  They froze, and his green eyes fell to the jacket on the floor.  He let it go. When the ringing stopped, (Y/n) stretched herself back out and parted her legs again, this time with her core a few inches from where the jet spouted from the jacuzzi wall.  She moaned around Arthur, incapable of not rocking her hips against the mind-blowing pressure blasting against her. 

“Christ, look at you, (Y/n). That feels good, does it?” Arthur’s hand loosened in her hair, and instead of pulling,  he gently massaged her scalp. “First thing when we get back, I’ll have one of these installed. You can use it as much as you like.” 

His phone rang again. 

He groaned and pulled away from (Y/n) with a pop.  He’s so thick and heavy that he sways against his stomach, and shone with her spit.  Saliva dripped down the corner of her lips.  (Y/n) rests her head on her arm as she watches him pick up his jacket, but she doesn’t stop herself from fucking herself with the water this time.  She whined as she rolled her hips, overstimulating herself even as Arthur brought his phone to his ear. 

He watched (Y/n), cum dribbled down the top of his aching dick as he spoke into the phone. 

“Yes?”

“You lot can survive without me.”

“I had another important call. I had to take it.” 

“Start without me.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes.  He pulled the phone back from his ear, and Francis’s voice echoed through the receiver. Their friend complained that he was being left alone with the uncivilized and that Ludwig already had a two-hour itinerary for everyone to follow.  

Arthur brought the phone back to his ear.  “Tell Ludwig I’m on a call with the Prime Minister—important business from back home.  I’m not to be disturbed. Do I make myself clear?”

Francis paused on the other end of the line.  (Y/n) imagined the look of realization as it dawned on his face.  

“Good.”  Arthur ended the call and threw his phone into a nearby armchair.  His attention returned to (Y/n), who rested her head on her arm and twisted her hips against the turrets from the tub.  Her lips fell open as she gasped against the mounting pressure.  Arthur stepped forward to brush his hand through her hair. “You’re absolutely blissed out.”  He tutted to her. “That feels good, does it, darling? Back up a little more, then. Go on.” 

(Y/n) looked up to meet his gaze.  He stared back at her with a hungry intensity that would have knocked the air from her lungs if she weren’t already struggling to breathe.  She pushed her hips backward and arched her back. 

“Arthur,”  she gasped as she basically sat on the jet. “I can’t anymore-” 

“That’s alright,” Arthur fell to crouch before her. He braced his arms against the side of the tub as he looked her in the eye. “Go on, love. I want you to feel good before I ravish you.” 

(Y/n) cursed under her breath, his confidence stroked the heat in her further, and looking him in the eye as she fucked herself was the last little push she needed.  She allowed her body to relax, to take the pleasure in welcome, mounting waves, and when her orgasm hit her, she remained rooted in place. The pleasure melted into pain, and the overstimulation sent shockwaves through her body.   

Arthur watched as she gasped and trembled in front of him. He knew better than to interrupt; she liked to be pushed, to get past that discomfort to reach another orgasm quicker, harder. Still, the thought of her clenching around nothing, and her slick cunt getting washed away in the water, seemed like such a waste. 

“(Y/n),”  He roused. “Come here.” 

(Y/n) hesitated.  The space between her legs ached, but Arthur held a hand out to her, and that led her to move from the water.  She stood slowly, but her legs trembled beneath her. 

Arthur moved upward. He kicked off the boxers at his ankles before he grasped (Y/n) by the waist.  His hands slid downward, with one at the small of her back and the other sliding under her thighs.  He picked her up with practiced ease and led her slick body to wrap around his. As her thighs clenched around his waist, his lips found her shoulder, where his teeth grazed. 

Arthur carried (Y/n) across the room, and as he positioned her atop their bed’s pillows, she soaked the sheets. Neither of them cared, as Arthur braced a hand beside her head and moved his kisses upward. He trailed them up her throat, over the blossoming bruises he left before, until he found her parted lips waiting for him.   

(Y/n) sighed into his mouth. Her kisses turned soft, and her body relaxed against the mattress. That wouldn’t do. Arthur pulled away and laughed at the way she groaned in annoyance. 

“Patience, my love.” He said. “You’ll like what comes next.” 

His lips trailed downward.  His tongue and teeth toyed with the sensitive flesh between her breasts. (Y/n)’s soft cries helped bring his lax cock back to attention, but he ignored the heavy pressure between his legs in favor of lowering himself down the bed to get between hers instead. He grasped her thighs between his hands and pried them further apart to press his lips into the thick flesh there. He moaned against her skin, which smelled like the rose water from the bath, as he sucked hard enough to leave a bruised path to her core.  (Y/n) squirmed beneath him, but he didn’t scold her as he settled down and breathed in her deliciously aroused scent.   He didn’t know where to start, but ultimately pushed her legs further apart for better access to her clit, and lapped his tongue against her. 

(Y/n) bucked her hips into his mouth. The warm pressure against the pain left behind by the tub jets felt amazing, and knowing it was him between her legs only heightened the pleasure. One of her hands fell to tangle in his blonde hair, and she pulled hard as he swirled his tongue in a rhythmic circle.   

Her pants quickly turned to moans in the quiet of their room, and Arthur, for his part, groaned as she started to grind into his face.  He didn’t pull away, allowing her to chase the pleasure against his tongue as she came a second time. As her orgasm hit her, he let her ride the first few waves before dragging his mouth downward.  He drew his tongue over her now sensitive and wet folds.  As he pushed them apart, he made sure to clean the mess he had made. 

Above him, (Y/n) clasped her other hand over her face. Her eyes closed, she struggled to breathe as Arthur did what she loved best.  He pushed her through the pleasure and into the pain, but she didn’t ask him to stop, even as tears brewed in the corner of her eyes.  Instead, she struggled as his tongue pushed into her; her worked-up body instinctively clenched around the warm muscle. 

Arthur pulled away, far enough for her to see his slicked lips as he stared up at her from between her spread legs. “I’m happy to keep on, but it seems like you might enjoy something a little harder.” 

“Oh, God.” (Y/n) sucked in a deep breath.  “Yes, yes, I would.” 

Arthur eased her legs back down. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles into her skin. “What position?” 

(Y/n) thought about it.  As she breathed, relaxed, the ache in her back settled in. 

“My stomach, amore.” 

“Alright,” Arthur kissed her hip. “Can you roll over for me?” 

(Y/n) nodded and eased herself over.  Her stomach stuck to the wet sheets beneath her, but she didn’t complain as she rested her forehead on her arm.  She felt the weight of Arthur moving to lean over her. He kissed a path up her spine to the base of her neck.  

He took a pillow from the head of the bed, and she wordlessly raised her hips for him to lay it beneath her. The angle canted her upward, her back end raised for him without her needing to do much work. 

Arthur stared at her for a moment.  He brushed her hair over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. “You’re beautiful,”  He purred.  “Breathtaking, especially like this.” 

“What?” (Y/n) crooned back. “You like it when I’m all fucked out for you?” 

“Yes.”  Arthur kissed her shoulder and then lined himself up with her folds. She quivered beneath him at the touch, and he consoled her softly before he pushed in. Inch by inch, he went slowly, until he could lie against her back, and bury himself nearly to the base. 

He moaned against her warm skin, and she trembled beneath him.  Her fingers tangled in the bedsheets as he filled her, stretched her walls, and stroked those innermost places that emptied her thoughts. 

“Arthur,”  she whined.  “Please. Please-” 

“You’re asking so nicely,” He teased her.  He pulled back and then pushed back in with more force. It pulled a loud moan from (Y/n)’s lips and set his pace as he started to thrust. “It’s unlike you.” 

“I’ll get you back.” She promised. “Sometime, during the trip.  You’ll be the one- ah - feeling like this.” 

“I’m looking forward to it.”  

It didn’t take long for (Y/n) to turn her head into the sheets and moan loudly. She arched her back and pushed her hips backward with every thrust.  Her head spun as the orgasm hit her, hard and fast.  She gasped and whined as Arthur sat up on his knees, grasped her hips with his hands, and held her up as he continued to use her. 

She knew he was close when his haughty words devolved into groans and grunts. Then he spilled in her, hot and warm, and she melted into the mattress.   Arthur lay against her back for a moment. His chest rose and fell, and in the silent moments after, where their heavy breathing filled the room, they both smiled. 

Arthur pulled away to lie in the bed beside (Y/n).  He gathered her into his arms and pulled her onto his chest. She didn’t put up a fight, even as he rubbed at her sore muscles and kissed her hair. 

“Are you alright?” He asked her. 

“Yes,” she answered. “Tired.” 

“For the best. You can sleep while I attend the meeting.” 

“Look at you, always taking care of me.” 

“It’s my favorite job.” 

(Y/n) sighed.  She turned her head and pressed a kiss where he had tattooed her name above his heart.  “Who schedules a world meeting on Valentine’s Day anyway?” 

The morning light was just teetering over the mountaintops of Stardew Valley.  In the early spring, dew clung to the grass, and a chill came in with the breeze. (Y/N) pulls her old duster tighter around herself as she fills a bucket of water to throw into her garden.  She counts the stocks of beans and tomatoes and sighs in relief when she finds no carnage from the birds.  She’d lived in a city her entire life, depending on the subway train to get her places and street-side food carts to keep her fed.  The only experience she had with plants was the small rooftop garden her mother preserved at their apartment building, and even that had managed to wither away in the months following her death. 

As (Y/N) places her empty bucket by the gate, she tries not to think of her mother or how she would have loved to grow old in Pelican Town.  She never seemed like the type to settle down, and every day, (Y/N) had watched her look out the window with longing.  At the very least, her grave is outside the city limits, with her father now put to rest beside her.  His grave was only three months old when (Y/N) decided to cash in on her portion of his Will.  Her father hadn’t been pleased- she was leaving her corporate job behind to take on a run-down farm, and he didn’t have much faith in her management potential. 

Some days, (Y/N) is inclined to agree with him, but on this day, she’d managed to get up early and finish her chores before the sunrose.  Her mailbox was empty, and her time was free, which meant she could pick up her rusty sword and travel into the mines. As dark and grim as the old shafts happened to be, she thought they were the most fascinating part of the Valley. She had a growing collection of crystals lining her flower bed, and Gunther treated her like an archaeological companion, given the many artifacts she’d been able to bring him. 

She’d always been better at hitting things than mending them, which is why she’d strap a small bag to her back and her sword to her belt before she began the walk up Mountain Road.  She expects the rest of town to be asleep, except for the few business owners who needed an early start, and she’d startle when passing by her neighbor’s home.  A whistle catches her off-guard, sharp and attentive, and her eyes snap towards Robin’s Carpenter business.  

Sebastian is leaning against the fence surrounding their patio, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he waves a coffee cup in front of him. 

“Are my eyes deceiving me, Seb, or are you awake this early?” 

“Maybe I’m just up really late. Here, this is for you.” 

(Y/N) takes a step closer, the bitter aroma of the coffee making her mouth water before she takes the mug into her hands. The warmth felt good against the chill, and she flashed Sebastian a toothy smile. “Don’t tell me you wait around every morning to give a cup of Joe to the first pretty person you see.” 

“You’re the only pretty person willing to get up this early.” Sebastian huffs back, propping his chin against his first as she takes a drink. “Unless you count Linus.” 

“‘Course I count Linus. Have you seen that man’s beard?”  

Sebastian laughs, and the cherry light of his cigarette drops some ashes at his feet. “It’s a good thing I already brought him breakfast, huh? I wouldn’t want him feeling underappreciated.” 

(Y/N) softens at this information before pointing to him with his mug. “Why are you up?” 

“You mentioned going into the mines when we played pool on Friday. I figured I’d catch you before you went in. Wish you luck.”

“That’s nice of you.” 

“Ah, I’m just being neighborly.” 

She wasn’t sure what to say, but she knew that he wouldn’t wake up before 9 AM just to talk to any of his other neighbors. Hell, the only thing that got him up most days was the fact that he had work.  She felt rather special, and under the scrutiny of his gaze, she couldn’t keep that telltale fluttering from starting in her chest. “Sebastian…”

“Yeah?”

“Go inside now. If you keep looking at me, I might die.” 

He grins and stands up straighter as if he’d got what he was waiting for that whole time. “Better to die by my flattery than to the monsters down there.  Why don’t you come inside? We can have a real breakfast.” 

“As special as the one you had with Linus?” 

“Well, no. You lack the beard necessary to have a five-star meal with me,  but close.” 

(Y/N) offers Sebastian the now empty mug, and he reaches out to hook it by the handle.  His hands are cold, and she realizes he must have been freezing too, only wearing his hoodie and shorts.  He’s still in his pajamas despite inviting her over, and she rolls her eyes. “I’ll have to rain check. I’m supposed to meet Gunther with something new, and I don’t want to disappoint him.” 

Sebastian nods before he bends down to pick up a small bag. It was hidden behind Maru’s telescope. “I assumed, so here’s a few extra supplies. Water, granola bars, first-aid. Please don’t die down there.” 

“I make no such promises, but thank you for caring.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Sebastian finally finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the fence before stuffing it in his pocket. “I’m the only one who knows you’re going down there, so if you die, I’m the one who has to drag you back up.” 

“I’d love to see you try! Come to the mines next time, and I’ll show you a thing or two about slaying slimes.”

“I think the town would be better off if I left the ass-kicking to you, (Y/N). I’d hate to be on the other side of that sword.” 

“What, this old thing?” She turns about to give a view of the sword sheathed at her hip. “I could teach you a thing or two, swordsmanship is a dead art.” 

“Make it out of those mines in one piece, and then we’ll talk.”

(Y/N) smiles before she stuffs the small bag of supplies within her own to carry with her.  “Talk to you later then?” 

“Come by once you’re finished down there. We’d all love to see what you find.” 

It started as a slip of the tongue. 

Moans came easier than words. 

Stephen pressed her into the sheets of his four-poster bed, her hands pinned above her head to keep her from touching him.  Her fingertips digging into his skin had started to feel like electricity. On most occasions, he wouldn’t mind the pain, but it was distracting from the time of his thrusts, and he knew the ache in her palm would drown out her pleasure. He tries to ease it with his feverish touches as his free hand slides along the sticky skin of her stomach to massage her breast.  The attention elicits a rich moan from her, and Stephen does his best to stifle the noise with a sloppy kiss.  It’s all tongue and teeth, leaving no room for words as she shifted her leg. They’d parted to let him between them, but chasing her release, she hitched it over his hip instead.  

The change in angle turns a switch in her brain. Stephen was always in control in moments like this.  It allowed him to let out pent-up stress, and it allowed her to stop worrying. Except now, each time Stephen’s hips rolled against her own, the pleasure rushed through her like a wave. She pulls her head away from his own, taking a deep breath. Just as she’s about to speak, he bottoms out again, and all coherent thoughts cease. 

“Steph… Steph… Please…”

Her eyes have closed, and because she’s lost in the bliss building within her, she hardly noticed the broken way his name fell from her lips. However, Stephen couldn’t help dwelling on how innocent and desperate she’d made his name sound. To him, his sole purpose in those moments was not to love her but to worship her. 

He finally released her hands, but only to grasp her chin. His thumb grazes against her lip, dragging against it roughly, and he uses it as leverage to earn her gaze. “Darling,” he croons, his voice nothing better than a rutting groan.  “Look at me.” 

As if cursed with a spell of obedience, she does as she’s told.  Their gazes lock in a moment of breathless intensity.  She wants to whine, to beg, to become an inconsolable mess. Stephen can see it in her eyes, and it stokes a fire in him- rarely seen by anyone else.  He offers her a wolfish smile, full of pride for claiming her in such a way. 

Her compliance and blatant trust in him meant she was his. 

In Mind, Body, and Soul. 

Stephen’s thoughts cleared when he felt her start to tighten.  

Magic gathers around them like an inferno.  

He can feel the heat of her release, the building pop, before the magic begins to manifest at her fingertips. Her brows pinch, and she does her best to contain it. 

Stephen released her chin and slotted his hands within her own.  Their fingers intertwined, Stephen prepared himself to gather the ambient power. Their intimacy was a good lesson about maintaining control, forcing her to restrain herself. 

She couldn’t speak, move, or orgasm without his explicit instruction. 

Neither of them minded the power dynamic, as he’d finally give them what they wanted. 

Spencer drives slowly, his hands gliding over the steering wheel of his Volvo Amazon, which had seen better days.  He rolls down the windows, and his unmanaged curls get caught in the summer breeze. They become a crown framing his face, kept from his eyes solely by the pair of sunglasses that shielded them.  The road had long since turned from smooth pavement to trails of gravel inlined with dirt.  (Y/N)'s childhood home hides behind valleys and hills, a small ranch tucked away from the rest of the world. 

They can see the pasture of cows before they see the house, and (Y/N) sits at attention, crooning at the many calves shepherded by their mothers and kept in line by a Great Pyrenees.  The dog turns to watch the car tumble down the road but doesn't dare to leave his post. 

The sun is high in the sky, it's a hot day for Virginia,  and (Y/N)'s already rolling up the cuffs of her jeans to prepare for time in the mud. Spencer watches her from the corner of his eye, pleasantly surprised to see her shuck off the professionalism she had to wear at the BAU. 

They pass by a mailbox, its white metal covered in years' worth of colorful handprints.  "Excited to be home?" He asks, not for the first time, in a tone sweeter than honey. 

The Volvo lurches to a stop, and the screen door of her parent's house opens before she can respond. The words are unnecessary because she's out of the car before he can count to three and scooping up an eight-year-old boy in her arms.  Spencer recognized him from pictures, with his freckled skin and outcrop of curly hair.  His flannel was two sizes too big for him, a lizard sat in the pocket of his overalls, and as (Y/N) would say, he was undeniably Daniel. 

"You've gotten so big!" (Y/N) says as Spencer retrieves their bags from the trunk.  He had his reservations about staying the night with her family.  Mostly, he worried they wouldn't like him, but if they were anything like the girl he'd started to consider a permanent life with, he knew he would come to love them just as much. 

"Maybe you've just gotten shorter, Auntie." Daniel teases, and Spencer notices he has (Y/N)'s smile. 

"You think? No, it's all you, kiddo, you're growing up on me!"  (Y/N) hugs the boy again, finally letting herself miss her family after living in Quantico for the past year.  "Do you remember Spencer? You spoke on the phone." 

Daniel's gaze sweeps over the older man as he approaches, squinting at the dress shirt and slacks he wore, unaware of how casually Spence happened to be dressed compared to usual.  "Everyone is excited to meet you." 

"Are they?" Spencer's heart soars. "I'm excited to meet you all too! Who is your friend?"  

Daniel pulls the lizard from his pocket and holds it aloft to Spencer, giving him a view of the spotted Bearded Dragon, rough to the touch. "His name is Dash." 

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dash.  Did you know that Bearded Dragons are one of the few lizards who will mimic other creatures?" Spencer tilts his head to stick out his tongue, and when Dash reciprocates, Daniel takes a surprised step back. 

"Woah! You have to come show my mom!"  

When Daniel takes off towards the house, (Y/N) loops her arm around Spencer's. "You're good at that." 

"What's that?" 

"Kids." 

Spencer shrugs, unwilling to admit that he finds children easier to talk to than most adults. "That's just because Dash vouched for me." 

"A pretty cool guy, that Dash."  (Y/N) plays along, leading Spencer inside as Daniel approaches a woman at the stove.  Her light hair contrasts (Y/N)'s, but they share the same eyes.  She watches with patience that only a mother could know as Daniel tries several times to get Dash to stick out his tongue.  When it finally works, the woman offers him a beaming smile before acknowledging the couple in the doorway. 

"The FBI has finally released my baby sister back to us humble cattle ranchers? Bestill my beating heart!"  The woman, who Spencer knew to be Amelia, crosses the room to pull her sister into a bone-crushing hug.  Spencer has to let (Y/N) go to allow this, but he isn't out of the woods yet.  Amelia appraises him, trailing her gaze from his head to his toes.  "He's cuter in person." 

"Amy!" 

"What? You don’t mind, do you, Spencer? I'm just repeating the things (Y/N)’s said about you." 

Spencer beams, his gaze flickering between the two siblings.  Their dynamic reminded him of how Derek continues to tease him daily. "Not at all. I hope everything she says about me is half as nice." 

"Like you wouldn't believe! 'His eyes are so dreamy. I love it when-'"  (Y/N) cuts off the embarrassing stories, most from when she first started working at the BAU and barely knew Spencer as an acquaintance.  She shoves Amelia back towards the stove, threatening to knock a pan of homemade chicken noodle soup from the burner.  "Hey, hey! Chasing serial killers has made you violent! MA!" 

Amelia raises her voice so she’s heard in the recesses of the house, and not a few moments later, an older woman comes skidding into the room.  She has the same friendly deposition as her daughters. Her skin’s notably wrinkled from years of hard labor, but there's a kindness in her eyes that Spencer can't ignore.  "What's all the fuss about? (Y/N)! When did you get here?" 

The mother and daughter close the distance between themselves.  Spencer can't help noticing how tightly (Y/N) clings to her parent as if proving all her sleepless nights- fearing that she would never see them again- wrong.  

"Hey, Ma," she finally says, after moments trickling into minutes.  "I brought a boy home." 

Everyone calls her Ma, even the people down the valley in the closest town, but Spencer knows her name is Beth.  Against his better judgment, he holds his hand out to her, expecting a polite handshake to break the ice, yet he's not surprised when he's pulled into a hug. "Doctor Reid!"  She greets him with an open welcomeness he isn’t used to. "We're so excited to have you finally join us. I hope you don't mind roughing it out here." 

"Spencer, please, and not at all!  Your home is lovely, and so is your family." 

"Well, that’s very kind of you! You've both made it in time for lunch. Why don't you get comfortable while I find your father?” Beth excuses herself before the couple can respond.