#have I mentioned I also low key hate writing? okay maybe not hate cause I still do it

[letstrywritingmaybe]

If all goes well then I will get to finish the otp prompts and CoAi week in time. I’m still incredibly busy and stressed irl, but we’re moving in the right direction so there’s that? I just hope everything keeps going well…

Enough about me, let’s talk fic cause this is what this side blog is for after all. Why do these otp prompts keep getting so long? Why can I not just have a simple au/idea? There’s always so many skips, I know they all need to be their own fully fleshed out verses but I really don’t have the time to spend on them… I’m exaggerating when I say it’s a long fic, we’re just under 4k (not done yet) so it’s really not that many words. But it’s a lot for me okay! I’m impatient and I don’t write pretty things or describe everything perfectly. I’m literally like okay yeah so this happens cause of course it does. So yeah, this is why I say I’m not really a writer. It’s really just me rambling and thinking about all the possibilities. Sometimes I think about doing the bullet point fics again, that was great for me. I get to explore the fic without actually writing the whole thing

[scekrex]

tw (depression)

hello would you be interested in writing about sinner!Adam becoming best friend with a touch averse kind of depressed male sinner!reader who works at the hazbin hotel (and is secretly touch starved) and then starting to have a crush on him cause he’s the only one who doesn’t want to kill him on sight and he’s able to babysit him and care for him without asking for anything in return. Maybe the friendship process and how Adam tries to flirt with him? Sorry for the wall of text and thanks

Okay so reader being touch starved is only heavily implied by Adam constantly touching him, hope that works! Also never apologize for being specific when it comes to requests - the longer the better <3 also his flirting is low-key awkward bc I headcanon Adam to not do well with rejection - especially when he's seriously interested in someone.

Part 2

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, mentions & symptoms of depression

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam hated everything down there in hell, from the hotel, over its residents all the way to Lucifer. He deeply hated every single sinner in this shithole and his heart longed for the safe walls of heaven that protected him from the filth. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even able to fully relax when he spent his days at the hotel, how could he when everyone wanted him dead - even Charlie, not that she’d ever admit let alone act on it.

But then there was you, a random guy Adam had never noticed before. He had not seen you during the battle, or maybe he had seen you and had just been too busy to focus on a sinner as unimportant as you. But now that he called the hotel his home, he was quite grateful for your company. Because while hell itself sucked and caused waves of tiredness and sadness to wash over him every now and then, you were the one that could get rid of those gray rain clouds for him. You weren’t a sunshine like Charlie, the exact opposite was the case. You had your fair share of problems to deal with, one of said problems was the fact that you suffered from depression - not that this illness would make you special or whatever, many people in hell suffered from it. Hell and depression sort of came in a package deal. Yet Adam made it a little easier to deal with - a thing you had never ever imagined you’d admit to.

A nice thing that came hand in hand with the friendship that grew between you and Adam was how touchy the first man was, he somehow had his hands on you constantly. When he’d walk past you he’d ruffle your hair, when you were sitting on the couch he would sit down next to you only to pull you in his lap and play with your hair. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with on a casual basis, though sometimes you longed for more, more than just friendship, something more intimate. But you weren’t sure if you had the energy for that.

Adam on the other hand longed for the same thing, he made it very obvious that he was interested in you, he would listen to your problems - or at least pretent to do so, because sometimes your problems were fucking boring in his eyes. But he’d hold you in his arms while you talked about things that kept you up at night, no matter if he was listening or not. And that alone seemed to help, at least Adam thought it did by the way you acted. And while the first man tried to act on the feelings he had for you, you made it quite hard for him to actually do so. “Y’know” he casually hummed as he headed towards the kitchen with you sitting on his shoulders. That was a thing you had talked him into at the beginning of your friendship, whenever you felt too tired to walk for yourself you’d ask him to carry you and usually he did so. Sometimes - though that rarely happened - he was too tired himself and would simply refuse to get up at all. “We should give this LuLu world bullshit a fucking try,” he continued as he headed for the fridge. You looked down onto him, a little confused by his statement. “Why?” Adam shrugged his shoulders, his hands grabbed a hold of your legs so you wouldn’t fall as he did. “Why the fuck not? It’s not like this shithole of a fucking hotel has anything to offer.” And while he had a point, you simply saw no reason to visit LuLu world. It was bright, loud and full of people, that didn’t sound very fun to you. “Pass, “ you mumbled as you opened the fridge and looked for something to eat, the brunette sighed loudly, “Fucking c’mon shithead, I’ll be fucking fun.” You shook your head though, “Been there once, it wasn’t fun at all.”The first man reached for a plate of ribs that you had prepared for him a couple hours ago and handed you a bowl of chocolate pudding, “If you say so.” And with that the topic was through and Adam had to come up with yet another idea to invite you on a date.

As Adam turned around to head back to his room he shrieked and backed off against the counter. Niffty was standing in the door frame to the kitchen, a little needle in her hand as she giggled at the sight of Adam. “Lemme down, I’ll put her away,” you mumbled with your mouth full of chocolate pudding and made grabby hands for the brunette to put you back on your own feet, the taller male that was carrying you on your shoulders though shook his head, “No fucking way I let you near that little bitch.” You however simply patted his hair and climbed off his shoulders yourself so that you could head over to Niffty and get that little gremlin out of the way. “Nif,” you hummed in a soft tone as you kneeled down next to the small demon, offering her a small smile. The redhead jumped up and down on the spot in excitement, teasingly pointing the sharp end of the needle in Adam’s direction. You were quick to take that weapon from her, “Nuh uh, I told ya we leave the big guy alone.” Adam raised an eyebrow at that, wondering when the fuck you had spoken to Niffty about anything that involved him, he could not recall a memory like that and therefore figured you must have done that without his knowledge. Kinda cute, that he had to admit. “Awww, but he looks so funny when I threaten him;” the small demon cried out in disappointment, clearly not happy with the decision you had made for her. “Doesn’t matter, he’s off the table Nif, we leave him be,” you explained once more and while not happy with that result, the redhead accepted her fate and took off.

“C’mere you fucking bitch,” the brunette mumbled and you were just about to ask him what he was talking about, but before you could his arms wrapped around your body and you were lifted onto his shoulders again, “Stay away from the fucking impure filth.” That earned the first man a slap on the back of his head and before he could open his mouth to complain you spoke, “I’m filth too, just as impure as the other cunts here.” Adam was quick to disagree,”No you’re fucking not, otherwise I wouldn’t fucking carry you around like you’re the most divine fucker God had ever created.” And while you wanted to argue, there was truly no point, so you simply decided to go along with his point of view.

“Also,” Adam whispered as he was heading back to his hotel room with you still on his shoulders, “That stunt of yours? Fucking badass.” In confusion you asked the brunette, “What stunt are we talking about?” He tapped your knee nervously as Husk walked past you, he waited until the bartender was gone before he responded, “Standing up to that demon bitch.” In reality it had been less impressive, but Adam liked the fact that you had talked to that little girl about leaving him alone and this was his way of saying thank you - it wasn’t a very good way, but that didn’t matter. “I didn’t stand up to her, I-” Adam interrupted you, his voice echoed through the empty hallway as his voice sounded louder than he had intended it to, “Just take the fucking compliment, for God’s sake.” - “Thanks,” you simply responded and gently patted his cheek as you playfully added, “Next time you can just call me hot, I can take compliments if they’re actually voiced as such.” And despite the fact that you weren’t able to see Adam’s cheeks heating up and turning red, you felt them heating up under your touch. “Shut the fuck up, I dunno what the hell you’re talking ‘bout,” he mumbled as he tilted his head downwards, you left this uncommented. If he needed time to admit to his feelings fully, you were okay with that. You have spent your entire afterlife in this hellhole, waiting for someone to save you. Now that a certain someone had arrived and was willing to save you, you were willing to wait for him. And while you did so, you would be able to work on yourself so that you would be ready for him when he decided to take the first step. “You are though,” the words of the brunette drowned your thoughts out and you looked down on him, a big question mark on your face as you asked, “What?” Adam sighed and rolled his eyes, “Hot, dipshit, you’re fucking hot.” Now that was sooner than you had thought he’d admit it out loud, but you took it as it came. “I’m aware,” you hummed, a proud smile on your lips as Adam entered his room and carelessly pushed the door close using his wing, “So are you.”

[mckennamayfairgoode]

I Take Flight but You Hold Me

Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: You hate her. You hate the way she makes you feel, you hate the way you can’t get her out of your mind, you hate the way she makes you burn. You hate her, but you think maybe you could love her too.

Warnings: Brief mentions of past toxic relationships. Slight NSFW. Angst? Yes. Yearning? Haha, no of course not….. 👀 Also, yes. 

A/N: I’m supposed to be working on a fluffy Ally piece, but I love this song so much and all it does is make me think of Mina. So this happened instead. 🤷‍♀️ Writing her and trying to capture that snarkiness with the underlying insecurity was very difficult. But I think it came out okay.

Song: To Be Loved by Askjell (ft. AURORA)

You’d seen Wilhemina Venable before: walking through the hallways of Kineros Robotics, her cane tapping rhythmically against the ground in a way that insured others kept a wide berth; sitting outside on a picnic table during her lunch hour, always at the same table, the same space, facing the sidewalk, always, always; once, even, as you stepped out of the elevator to the parking garage at the end of the day. 

She’d stood ramrod straight next to her car, one hand gripping the head of her cane and the other fidgeting with her keys. Something inside you had tugged insistently and you had slowed to a stop, your gaze drawn to the fingerless gloves she wore. They were made of a dark purple leather that covered her slender hands all the way to the first knuckle. Her nails were short and unpainted and for some reason, you couldn’t stop staring.

Someone cleared their throat, breaking your trance and causing you to jerk back as if suddenly woken from a daydream. You looked up and met dark eyes. They were deep and brown and furious. She wore a scowl on her face, one you recognized easily as you’d seen it often enough when you passed her in the corridor. “Don’t you have somewhere to be instead of staring at me with that idiotic look on your face?” she snapped and you realized, in all your time working there, you had never heard her speak. 

Your face growing uncomfortably warm, you had muttered a vague apology under your breath as you darted past her and into the direction of your car. Her voice had been nice. Low and husky with a slight rasp that gave you goosebumps. You tried not to think about how you could feel her eyes on your back.

You went home that night and lay in your bed and tried to ignore the heat coiled low in your belly. But your thoughts ran rampant in your mind, pulling and twisting into versions of her you had yet to see. You wondered, if when she touched you, whether she would take those gloves off or keep them on so that all you could feel were her fingertips. You wondered if she would speak to you, low and husky and warm. You wondered if her bite would sting.

The thought burned you from the inside out.

--

The next week, your boss retired and you were granted a promotion. You were excited at first. A better job meant better pay, but now, as you stand in front of Wilhemina Venable’s desk, you think maybe it’s not all that worth it after all. 

“I don’t have time to sit here and indulge in your little exercise. Unlike some people in this establishment, I have actual work to do,” she says, tapping at her computer and not bothering to spare you a glance. Like you are less interesting than a fly she has to swat away. The notion churns in your gut, twisting your insides unpleasantly. You resist the urge to shift on your feet, knowing that she will catch the motion in the corner of her eye and latch onto it like a dog with a bone. She is an apex predator always looking for weaknesses she can exploit. You refuse to show her any.

“This ‘little exercise’ comes down from Jeff and Mutt. Spending time with you isn’t exactly on my list of priorities,” you snap and you blink and you wonder where it came from.

Her motions cease, fingertips hovering over her keyboard. You try to ignore the way your gaze lingers on her hands. “Is that so?” She looks up then, suddenly meeting your eyes. You want to look away, to move, but you feel frozen in place. They are so brown. Her words are sharp when she speaks. “Do you not recall the gaping fish impression you showed me in the parking garage last week?” 

“I wasn’t gaping,” you retort, neck warming. You hope she can’t see. The flick of her eyes to your ears tells you she can. 

Venable gives you a blank look. “Of course not. Because that would imply that the space between your ears is filled with more than just hot air.” The words get under your skin. They rake across the sensitivity of your nerves and coil around your very being and sink into your bones and you hate it. A part of you thinks you could hate her.

Your spine feels like it might snap as you stand up straight, tension lining the squared edge of your shoulders. “Ms. Venable, we really need to discuss these layoffs,” you say, hoping that professionalism will get through to her so you can go on about your day pretending that she doesn’t set your soul on fire.

She arches a single dark brow, pursing her lips. “What layoffs?”

“I’ve been looking at the account ledgers. We’re overstaffed.”

Venable tilts her head, studying your face. “And what is someone with the brain capacity of a park squirrel doing looking at our accounts?”

Your jaw flexes as you grit your teeth. “That’s my job.”

“Since when?”

“Since three days ago when the head of finance retired.”

“Oh really? And they chose you to replace him?” She clicks her tongue, lips pursing once more. They’re a plum color. You silently reprimand yourself for noticing. “I can’t imagine why. It’s clear you have no capacity for intelligence, no work ethic, and not enough brain cells to do it yourself.”

Heat washes through you like an ocean’s surf. “You’re HR,” you retort.

Her fist clenches around the top end of her cane, those damned leather gloves creaking beneath the force of it. “And you’re finance. As far as I’m concerned, if it weren’t for your department, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.” She locks eyes with you for one long moment that makes your breath catch. You force yourself to remain still and curse the fight or flight instinct inside you that’s telling you to run, that she is a danger, that if you look directly at her, you will be turned to stone. “Figure it out,” she demands, voice clipped. Then she drops her eyes and returns her gaze to the screen of her computer.

You resist the overwhelming urge to shove everything off her desk and demand her attention, her time, her respect. Your body burns with anger and humiliation and the need to know what her gloves would feel like against your bare skin, but you smother it down and squash it beneath your foot like a lit cigarette into the pavement of a sidewalk. You turn and walk away and listen as the same rhythmic tapping from before resumes as if you had never been there at all.

You feel her eyes on you as you leave, but when you turn to look, all you can see is the top of her head. It was just your imagination, you tell yourself. The piece of you that spent a better part of a year being aware of any and all movement tells you that isn’t true. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in the sights of a predator.

However, it is the first time you find yourself hoping that you are.

--

Later that night, you still sit hunched over your desk, finalizing the changes you made to the account ledgers. You don’t know what time it is. All you know is that the sun had gone down long ago, that your back will probably hurt in the morning, that you’re exhausted and your brain is running on fumes, but also that you need to finish. Just a little more time, and you can save these people and their jobs. Maybe a part of you wants to show Venable that you can do it too. She doesn’t believe you can. So you will.

You hear her coming before you see her. The building is completely void of life except for the janitor who came by to greet you a few minutes or an hour ago, you’re not sure. The steady tapping of her cane against the pristine flooring echoes in the empty space around you. You look at your computer, save your progress, and wait.

She appears in your doorway like a ghost draped in lavender. Her pale skin and bright red hair stand out from the shadows like the highlights in an oil painting. You will yourself to look away, but find that you can’t. She raises her eyebrows at the sight of you. “You’re still here.” It’s not a question.

You bristle at the tone of her voice and sit up in your chair. You want to cross your arms, but don't; you don’t want her to think you’re being defensive. She will only see it as an act of war and you are too tired to battle with her tonight. Maybe tomorrow you will adorn your sword and shield and finish what you started, but tonight... Tonight, you just want to look at the stars in her eyes. “I had some things to finish up,” you say once you finally find your voice.

Venable hums, her eyes raking over your form in a way that is not comforting at all. Her path raises goosebumps along your skin. You tell yourself not to blush, and bite back a curse when you do. You search her form for a reason to break the tense silence between you when you notice the folder she holds between her fingers. “What is that?” You nod to the item in question. 

She glances down at it as if she forgot she was holding it in the first place before extending it out for you to take. “It’s a list of low level employees.”

You rifle through the papers and recognize several of the names. People you know, people who work under you, people who trust you. There’s the janitor who always checks on you when you work late and the security guard at the front desk who greets you every morning by name and the young woman who used to work in the cubicle next to yours before you were promoted. Her name is Maria and she has a daughter. You know because there’s a picture on her desk of a little girl with a gap-toothed smile. Your stomach churns unpleasantly. “So those you deem expendable.” You can’t help the bitter tone to your voice. 

Venable catches on if the slight raise of her eyebrow is anything to go by. “They’re replaceable,” she says simply. 

You shake your head and with a flick of your wrist, toss the file back onto your desk. It slides to a stop back in front of her. “I don’t need it.”

She blinks once, twice. “What?” She watches as you stand and begin to gather your belongings. “What do you mean you ‘don’t need it’? Unless you simply tossed them from the window, someone still needs to be fired. Don’t tell me you’re that incompetent,” she scoffs.

You grab your bag by the strap and throw it over your shoulder. “I figured it out,” you respond, voice bitter and words sharp like knives. You refuse to be prey, to roll over until your belly is exposed and your weaknesses are aired out for the whole world to see. Not again. Especially not for her.

Just as you’re about to march out the door, she grabs your arm. You freeze in place. You think you both do. The tips of her bare fingers brush the inside of your wrist and you wonder why your skin burns when her hands are so cold. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, you can only stand there and wonder if she can feel the rhythm of your heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Does it speak to her? Does she understand? Does she want to?

You lock eyes. One long, impenetrable moment passes between you and you hate that you can’t tell what she’s thinking, you hate that she has your heart in her grip, you hate her, you hate her, you hate her. She blinks and the sharp glint in her gaze returns. You snatch your wrist back before she can say something that poisons your soul. You flee your office like it’s on fire. But it’s not your office that’s on fire. It’s you.

--

When you’re alone, you think about her. You chastise yourself, force the thoughts away, but eventually, like the tide rolling in, they always, always come back. It is infuriating. You don’t really know this woman, and the things you do know are nothing good. She is selfish and entitled, cruel and hateful, and worst of all, she makes you burn without ever having touched you a single time.

The sound of the bell jingling above the door yanks you abruptly from your thoughts and you resist the urge to sigh out loud as you realize, once again, where your mind has gone. You tighten your grip on your book, forcing yourself to concentrate on the words but only managing to repeat them several times as they don’t sink in like they should. You’re vaguely aware of a familiar thumping sound growing steadily closer and it’s not until it stops at your side that you realize what it is. Or rather, who it is. You look up to see dark brown eyes already staring down at you.

“You’re in my chair,” she says before you can even work up the courage to speak.

You blink. “Excuse me?” For a moment, you’re reminded of the picnic table she sits at during her lunch hour. The same table, the same space, facing the sidewalk, always, always.

“I know it’s hard for you to comprehend the English language, but if you could summon all of your brain cells to at least try, I’m sure society would thank you.” Venable looks at you disdainfully, her eyes flicking to the open collar of your shirt and then down to the book clasped in your hands. “Lord knows I won’t,” she mutters. 

You bristle at her tone, at her words, at her everything. “This is a public space, Wilhemina.” She blinks owlishly at your use of her first name and taps her cane against the ground, just once, before settling both of her hands on top of it. It is a warning you ignore. “You don’t own this chair or this table or this cafe. I’m sure you can find another seat.” With that said, you turn back to your book, intending to ignore her further.

It works… until you hear the scraping of a chair against the floor and you glance up just in time to see her easing into the space across from you. She pulls a book out of her bag and sets it on the table, but does not open it. She looks at you instead, her eyes cold and calculating as she tries to size you up. You could imagine the gears in her head turning but you decide you don’t want to see inside her mind. If you did, you don’t think you’d make it out alive. “I don’t recall asking you to take a seat,” you comment pointedly. Your body hums at her close proximity and it drives you mad.

“I don’t recall asking for permission,” she snaps back. You huff, but concede her point and avert your gaze, anything to keep yourself from looking into her eyes. “I’ve never seen you here before,” she says. 

“That’s because I’ve never been here before,” you retort under your breath, looking at the words on the page but not reading them. 

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here? In my chair?”

You sigh and close your book. “How exactly is it your chair?”

“It’s my table.” Her response is spoken with the conviction of someone who thinks they are always right. Your nostrils flare in annoyance. Venable’s eyes are intense and endless as she studies you like you are a science marvel she can’t figure out and it makes you uncomfortable, like you’re nothing more than an experiment under a microscope. She tilts her head, the motion causing her bright red ponytail to fall over one shoulder. 

Your eyes travel the length of it and you’re suddenly gripped with the urge to free it from it’s restraint. You want to see it draped over her bare shoulders or formed into a halo around her head. You want to know what it would look like in the morning, in the earliest rays of sunlight, if it would hurt your eyes to see. You swallow the ball in your throat. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

You raise your eyebrows and fold your hands around your coffee cup, allowing the warmth to seep into your skin, your bones, eager to feel anything other than the burn inside you. “I just moved down the street from here,” you answer absentmindedly, watching as a man pulls out a chair for the woman in his company. She smiles up at him, warm and real. She’s in love with him, you think. You can see it in her eyes.

“Why?”

You sigh. "Why do you care?” 

She laughs and it startles you so much that you turn to watch it leave her lips. It lights up her face but it is not right. It is cold and harsh and cruel. You wonder if this is what the gods hear before they are smote and sentenced to a mortal life on Earth. “Care?” She laughs again, and shakes her head as if the thought alone is one she wishes to physically knock from her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I merely wish to know if this will be a common occurrence.”

Frustration bubbles up in your chest and you hate, hate, hate how she can get under your skin. You will not give her the satisfaction of watching you break. You shrug indifferently. “Considering this is the closest coffee place to my apartment, probably.” She looks peeved and you preen a bit like a proud peacock for finally making her feel something other than indifference. You stand up to leave.

“Wait,” she stops you. She doesn’t move; she doesn’t have to when your body ceases all movement as soon as she speaks. That fact alone fills you with dread. You watch in amazement as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She flicks her ponytail back over her shoulder and lifts her chin. “You don’t have to leave.”

For the second time in less than an hour, you feel yourself become speechless. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, runs the tip of her index finger absentmindedly along the spine of her worn, hardback novel. “Stay,” she says. She sniffs then, as if allergic to kindness. “If you’d like.”

You meet her eyes, briefly, intensely, too long and not long enough. It feels like a trap. Your brain throws mental hazard signs all around for you to see, bright flashing lights and neon letters that read ‘DANGER, DANGER! DEAD END; TURN AROUND BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.’ You don’t. “Okay,” you find yourself saying. You sit back down in your seat, pull your book closer to your chest and resume where you left off. Your eyes dart back to her figure and you watch from across the table as Venable does the same. 

Silence settles between you like a blanket. It is warm and comforting and still, you burn.

--

The next week, Venable comes into the coffee shop on her usual day at her usual time, and just as she expected, she finds her chair empty. What she didn’t expect to find was you, sitting on the other side. 

No words are spoken. She takes her seat, you stay in yours. You drink your coffee, you read, you people watch, you take comfort in another person’s presence. You don’t know why, but you feel safe.

You hate it. Truly, you do. It doesn’t make any sense. How can you be safe in the presence of the one who belittles you? Who makes you feel small? Who has only shown you cruelty and whose words are always laced with razor blades? 

And then you realize, this makes perfect sense. For the woman you used to love hid her cruelty behind pretty words and even prettier lies. She had torn you down and disguised the knife in your heart as a beautiful red rose. She had put your hand around the hilt and convinced you that it was you who had done the hurting, the breaking, the stabbing. She had said, with conviction and earnestness in her words, that you were the cause of everything that was wrong with you and her and the both of you together. You had believed her.

Venable is not like that. She does not lie. She does not hide. If you want to find her, all you have to do is look- and she is a painting. It’s pretty at first glance, but the longer you look, the more you see. The beautiful and the ugly, the deepest darkness and the hidden light, all the things she tries to hide and fails to be rid of. You see her.

Sometimes, you wonder if she can see you too.

--

The days bleed into weeks and you wonder if you will ever be free of this hold she has on you. It’s like the seed she’s buried in your head has finally taken root and no matter how hard you try to fight it, you can’t get her out. That’s days, weeks, it feels like years, that you spend thinking about Venable, burning and scorching until you’re sure all that’s left inside is ash. You hate it. You think you might hate her. No, you don’t, a part of you whispers, but you ignore it like you always do.

You butt heads at work. Often and with force, but she will never fire you, because despite her best efforts to prove otherwise, you are competent and you get things done. She thinks you are a menace; you think she is a mad goddess high on a pedestal of her own making. You want to knock her off. You refuse to be another sheep cowering at her feet. When you pass her in the corridors, when you see her on her lunch hour (the same table, the same space), even during the late evenings when you catch her in the parking garage, you don’t cower. You don’t flinch. You look her in the eyes and dare her to smite you.

Every Saturday at 7:50 in the morning, you go to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment. You sit at the table in the back right corner with a coffee and a book and you wait. At 8 o’clock on the hour, Venable will join you. She will sit in the chair facing the room, pull out her novel, and read while you do the same. 

The thoughts that plague your mind don’t stop until you are in her presence. When she sits down, your mind goes quiet. Finally, finally. So you sit and you read and sometimes, only sometimes, do you wish you could reach across the table and stroke her hand.

You rarely speak. When you do, it’s a discussion about literature, about the authors you find redundant and the works you think are derivative. Sometimes, she will comment on something that has happened at work. It is always sarcastic, a jab at some hapless employee or something inane like she is just trying to fill the silence, like she wants to talk to you.

You know this can’t be true. Venable likes no one, takes pleasure from no one’s company, but sometimes you think maybe she doesn’t mind yours.

--

You and Venable eventually settle into a new rhythm, one that ebbs and flows with the days and the flux of your emotions but it is one that is constant and real. Most of your arguments have progressed from barely concealed insults to clever banter and a back-and-forth repertoire that make smiles come unwittingly to your mouth. She smiles sometimes too when she thinks you aren’t looking. A little lift at the corner of her mouth, barely there, but noticeable all the same.  Only because she never smiles and it looks so out of place there on the curve of her lips. If you blink, it will disappear, but you see it. You always do. You think it is beautiful; you also think you are losing your mind, being so attracted to a person you dislike. But you don’t hate her, a little voice in the back of your head reminds you.

You can live with that though. The attraction, the thoughts running on a never ending cycle in your mind, the burn. And you do, for many weeks that turn into months that turn into long hours working together in overtime, that turn into you sometimes joining her on her picnic table during lunch, the same table, the same space, always, always. It isn’t lost on you that she’s let you intrude on her safe spaces, not once, but twice. You don’t know what it means so you don’t think about it. You don’t want to give water to a plant you aren’t sure you want to grow. And you are fine with that. You live with it.

Until one day, you fuck up.

--

It’s one of those Saturday mornings in which you speak. These mornings are not so rare anymore, but when they happen, you cherish them, turn them into memories in your mind. You don’t even know why, but you bottle them up like four leaf clovers and put them in your pocket for safe keeping. The sun is out, shining through the window over Venable’s shoulder. It sets her hair aflame. It hurts your eyes to see, but you can’t look away.

You don’t even remember what you’d said and doesn’t that just eat you up inside? That a woman you can’t stand has the ability to completely turn your brain to mush? You’d said something and it had just come bubbling out of her: a laugh. A real one, warm and low and husky. The sound of it makes it seem like she laughs all the time, like those laugh lines around her beautiful mouth are genuine. You have never seen her look happy before. You wonder if you make her happy. You wonder if you could, if she would let you.

As you look at her, as you watch the smile on her face grow, as her hand comes up to settle on her collarbone like the motion will keep her heart from leaping out of her chest, you feel your own heart drop unpleasantly into your stomach. And you freeze.

Oh.

Oh, no.

You don’t know when it happened. When the Venable who made you feel small became the Venable who laughs at your jokes and smiles where you can see her. When the Venable who tore you down became the Venable who presses her hand into the small of your back when she passes by you at the office. When the Venable you detested and who detested you became the Wilhemina who makes you feel safe.

You don’t know, you don’t know, you don’t know.

She is the deep blue underbelly of the ocean and she is pulling you under. You don’t want to drown. You want to burn and burn and burn. But she looks at you and douses your fire. She is the chain around your ankle, the anchor weighing you down, pulling and pulling and you wonder at what point you stopped fighting and let yourself sink.

Stomach churning, you lurch from your seat and make for the door.

No, no, no. 

You don’t notice her following you until you’ve made it down the sidewalk and feel her hand clasp around your wrist. Just like old times. Her fingers are gentle and soothing and this time, they trace the veins under your skin, timid and softly and barely there but you can feel her. You want to weep. You wonder if she’d been wanting to do that, if she had wanted to do that last time. Can she feel how your heart beats for her?

You watch her fingers for a moment, too scared to look in her eyes, fearful of what might be there. What if she wants you too? What if she doesn’t?

“Wilhemina-” you start, and that single word has her dropping your wrist as if it were on fire. Maybe it is. Maybe you are.

Her eyes darken and she turns without saying a word. Your heart in your throat, you watch her back as she walks away, determination in every step she takes. The picture is enough to hurt you more than the idea of falling in love with her scares you. 

You’ve been hurt before. Mistreated, gas lighted, bruised, and broken. But you are not broken anymore. You remade yourself. You became a new you that you rebuilt from the ground up, piece by piece, until you were a wall of solid brick. You are not soft, you are not naive or gullible or innocent, not any longer. You know the damage she could do, the danger she poses to your heart and your soul and your brand new walls. How did she knock them down without you realizing? The only conclusion that you come to is that she was supposed to. 

You realize, suddenly, with an ache in your heart, that the walls weren’t meant to protect you. They were not even made of bricks. They were the walls of a home and inside was your heart and painted on the front door was a sign. A sign addressed to Wilhemina Venable that simply read: Come on in.

You’d taken too long. She’s almost at the end of the block now. Your heart thunders in your chest as you break into a jog, rushing to catch up with her. “Mina!” The nickname tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

Wilhemina jerks to a halt, shoulders angry and bunched up around her ears, reminiscent of a disgruntled cat. She locks her fingers around the head of her cane. It seems like she might turn around, like she might let you in. Look at me, please look at me, please, please, please. For a moment, you think she might. Her head turns to the side, just barely, just enough for you to admire the way the sun glints off the sharpness of her cheekbones. But you blink and she’s walking away from you still.

You dodge pedestrians and cyclists and dogs on leashes and in your mind, you beg and plead for her to stop, to turn around, to do anything but walk away from you. You would rather her yell at you and belittle you and call you names. You would rather feel her thorns against your skin, or feel the ire build up in your bones until you know nothing but anger, anything, anything, but this intense helplessness. You can’t do anything but run.

By the time you catch up with her, she is ascending the steps to a townhouse. You reach the mailbox, watching as she pulls her keys from her pocket and fiddles with them like she doesn’t actually want to use them, but feels like she must.  “Please don’t run away,” you plead, your voice quiet from exhaustion, from pain, from the feeling of your love for her overwhelming you completely as it fills your body and inflates your soul. You wonder how you hadn’t felt it before. 

Wilhemina stops and you could sob with relief when she finally, finally looks at you. Her eyes are so very dark, but they are not stone. They are weary, cautious and guarded, but not impenetrable. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said,” you retort, and it’s just like old times. The sparring games that never really ceased. It’s time to pick up your sword and shield and fight for the love of your life. “Please, Mina.”

Her jaw flexes and you can see her knuckles whiten from where her fingers grip the head of her cane. “I’m not running from anything. I am simply going home.”

“Really?” You move down the sidewalk, closer to her and further away from the real world. You want to live inside her bubble if she will let you. As she has before. As she will again. If you cannot quit her, she cannot quit you. Please, please, please. “Because I think you love me and that scares the hell out of you. Well, guess what, it scares the hell out of me too.” It hurts to say, and a part of you is afraid that voicing it out loud may make it disappear, but your heart still yearns and your chest still burns. The realization that it’s real, that it’s not all in your head, has you ascending her front porch steps. You need to be closer. You need to look in her eyes and feel the weight of the world lift from your shoulders. You need to see the stars.

“Funny, I recall you fleeing the coffee shop like I had a disease. Clearly, you don’t want to be seen with-'' You kiss her, smother the words against her lips and press her back into the townhouse door, holding her firmly but gently against you. If love is a person, you can feel her right now beneath your hands. Warm and soft and whole.

She hesitates, only for a second, before you hear the clatter of keys and her cane falling to the steps. Her hands reach up, bare of her gloves, and wrap around the collar of your shirt, simultaneously pulling you in and pressing against you. She bites your lip, harsh and unforgiving, and it stings but it hurts so good. You whimper when she soothes it with her tongue. “Foolish girl,” she hisses against your mouth.

“Am I?” You ask breathlessly, running your fingers up her spine. She’s trembling, but she leans into your touch all the same. “I think you like that about me,” you murmur against her lips.

You look into her eyes. They are still guarded, still cautious and they search your face like she is waiting for the punchline. You realize, with a great overwhelming sadness, that she is expecting you to laugh at her, to betray her and say it’s all a joke. She is afraid of you. You reach up with your other hand to sooth the furrow between her brows. You follow the elegant line of her nose, trace the small groove above her top lip, brush your fingertips along the curves of her mouth. “I won’t hurt you,” you whisper. Like it is a secret, and maybe it is, but it’s a secret just for her.

You watch in wonder as Venable disappears, as chocolate brown eyes turn glossy and vulnerable, as her lips tremble, and Wilhemina appears before you. Your gazes lock, and if two souls can speak to one another, you know that yours are speaking right now. They’ve been waiting for each other all this time.

You take one of her hands in yours and press it against your chest, to the erratic beating heart beneath your shirt. She may be the ocean, surrounding you, pulling you under, and holding you down, but you realize that you were the anchor all along. You will not falter, you will not move. She is a force to be reckoned with and you- you are the stone that will not break. “Feel that?” you ask. She nods, bites her lip, searches your eyes for the answers to questions you don’t yet know. You don’t need to know the questions. You vow to find the answers anyway. “That’s yours,” you say. “That’s for you. No one else. Not now, not ever, not even before. It’s always been yours.”

“That’s very poetic,” she murmurs huskily, trying to sound sarcastic, but her voice wavers and loses the sharpness to her tone. Her eyes are wet. You realize yours are too.

“I’ve seen what you read,” you respond. You feel her hand curl into a fist above your heart. “You like my poetry.”

She snorts, leans up, brushes her nose down the length of yours. You kiss her once, just to feel her beneath your lips. “Possibly,” she admits under her breath when you pull away. You smile, kiss her again and again and again. She leans into you like she wants to crawl inside of you and become one person, one soul, one being. You think you already are.

Her tongue slides into your mouth, hot and insistent, overwhelming your senses and causing your brain to stutter. The burn that settled in your being when you saw her that moment in the parking garage flares like a fire that’s been coaxed to life with kerosene. You’re familiar with this burn, with the nature of it. It has been a piece of you for months now. The very first moment you met her, she crawled into your heart and built a fire inside you. As she sucks your tongue into her mouth and bites at the tip and her nails scratch down the length of your neck, you realize that this fire was never meant to go out. It was meant to be a bonfire that could rival the stars.

You don’t know when you picked up her keys and her cane, or when she unlocked the door to her townhouse, or when you followed her up the stairs. You don’t know when you lost your clothes or she lost hers or when you traced her spine with kisses. You don’t know how you got here, with her underneath you, her long red hair splayed across her pillow like a halo around her head, but you are here. And you are in love. 

You watch her throat bob when she swallows. She’s staring at the ceiling as if it holds the answers to the universe. Her eyes are not guarded, or weary, but cautious. Look at me, please look at me, please, please, please. And she does. Your heart somersaults in your chest. She is right. You are a fool. 

The cautious look is gone, replaced with a determination that is both strange and familiar. She cups your face in her hands and tugs you down until your faces are so close, you can feel her lips brush yours with every breath she takes. “I might hurt you,” she admits, voice trembling as she looks into your eyes and you wonder if you look as scared as she does. “But I will try. What I hurt, I will soothe.” Her thumb traces the spot she bit not moments ago.

“I know,” you whisper, before you lean down and press your lips together once more. You gently bring your body down to rest on top of her so that all you can feel is your naked skin against hers. It is warm and soft and unbearable and you know you are crying but they are happy tears. As your kiss deepens, and her tongue comes home to meet yours, you feel a saltiness fall into your mouth and you realize that she is crying too. You kiss her and worship her and love her, love her, love her.

You fall like an anchor into her ocean where you will sit unmovable, impenetrable, always and forever. Her waves can lash at you, the tides can rise and fall, but you will not break. For her, you will be everything.

You breathe her in and feel her body move beneath your bare skin. You trace her spine with your fingertips, press kisses to her collarbone, hold her in the palm of your hands like she is the whole entire world. And to you, she is. You show her the night sky when she closes her eyes, and you teach her to reach up and take the stars for herself. You tell her you love her and you make promises you know you will keep. She doesn’t have to say it back. You can see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she kisses you, in the tender way she traces your face and looks at you like you are the sun. You wonder if she can feel your heartbeat against her chest.

You make love and you burn and burn and burn until you are a supernova ready to come crashing down into her ocean.

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

You matter - Aaron Hotchner x fem! reader

A/N: So a lot of you seemed to like my last one about hotch and trust me i have plenty more! I also have some for spencer and am currently writing a mini series for derek so if anyone’s interested in that let me know. Enjoy.                                Warnings: Mentions of a case, swearing                                                                Word count : 1,762                                                                                                  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sat in the lobby of the hotel; my head held in my hands. This case had taken a toll on all of us. All we wanted to do was to get back to Quantico and get a goodnights rest in our own homes, in our own beds. But apparently mother nature had other plans. A storm had been brewing all night – thunder, lightning, rain – the whole lot. So, we’d been made to stay another night in the local hotel. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad hotel. If anything, it’s one of the nicer ones we’ve stayed in throughout the years, but the frustration from not being able to go home grew in all of us. I was so wrapped in my own thoughts I didn’t notice someone taking a seat next to me. 

“You okay?” Hotch’s voice made me jump. I placed my hand over my chest. 

“God you scared me.” I said chuckling. Hotch smiled at me. 

“Sorry, you just looked like you could use the company.” He replied. I sighed. 

“Yeah. I guess I could.” He studied my face for a moment. “

Are you okay?” He seemed hesitant in his words. Mine and Hotch’s friendship is quite a casual one. We occasionally see each other outside of work, I’ve even watched jack for him when Jess wasn’t able to. Hotch had confided in me with some of his deepest secrets. Nightmares, regrets, worry’s about not being a good father. But I listened. We’ve never discussed my thoughts, my feelings. And that’s okay. I don’t want to be a burden to him, or any of the team. So, whenever they had a problem, I would sit and listen. I’d comfort them, try my best to give them advice or simply let them get their feelings out. But when it came to myself, I push all those feelings down. Until my key hits the door. 

“Hey.” Hotch nudged my arm. I hadn’t realised I’d been gazing at the wall ahead of me, once again caught up in my own thoughts. 

“What’s going on? Talk to me.” He said softly. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

 “It’s just this case you know. I get that our job is to get inside the mind of these psychos, but I can never understand why people hurt kids.” I explained. 

“We can never truly understand why these people do what they do.” Hotch replied. 

“That’s not true. In most of our cases, I do understand. I’m able to see the reasons as to why they kill. I never agree with them before you think I’m insane.” Hotch chuckled stiffly at my words. 

“But when it comes to kids, I never understand it. There’s no logic, no sense to it. And this case especially. As if torturing them wasn’t enough, why then display the dead bodies for the family to see? I mean the families have been through enough, the child went through enough. I thought this guy would have some shred of humanity left not to fucking humiliate and scar them all afterwards.” I could feel the anger building up inside of me. There’s something I hadn’t told the team. And now it was about to come bursting out. 

“I know they have no emotions. I know they don’t think the right way. I know that biologically that there is something wrong with them. I know the facts. But it still bugs me. And the fact he was fucking laughing when we brought him in. That sick bastard.” I stood up and started pacing. Tears were threatening to spill from my eyes as I ran my shaking hands through my hair trying to cling on to any sense of calm I had left. 

“I hate him.” I spat. All hope of remaining collected went out the window. Hotch stood up and came towards me. 

“Y/N, listen to me calm down.” He reached out to place his hands on my arms. 

“No. This isn’t fair. Abbey didn’t do anything” 

“Abbey? The last girl he killed?” Hotch asked but I ignored him. 

“She was seven. SEVEN HOTCH. All she wanted to do was go to school, live her life, play with her friends. Instead, she ends up being kidnapped, brutally torched and murdered then get’s her dismembered body presented on her front lawn like she was some kind of abstract art.” I was hysterical at this point. Crying, yelling – I couldn’t stop myself. 

“I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.” I pounded my fists against Hotch’s chest with every sentence, until I eventually wore myself out and collapsed into his arms sobbing. He held me, letting me get everything out. I could feel his hands gently rubbing my back, soothing me. We were now crouched down on the floor and at some point Hotch must have moved us to a corner somewhere as his back was resting against a wall. When I eventually stopped crying, I noticed I was half sprawled across his lap. I didn’t have the energy to stand so I just shifted myself, so I was comfortable and able to face him. He gently brushed the hair out of my face. I couldn’t meet his gaze. I was embarrassed to have lost it like that. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He replied, softly 

“Can I ask you a question?” I nodded at his words. 

“Why is this effecting you so much? I understand this case has been a brutal one but it’s not the first time we’ve dealt with this level of torture. It’s certainly not the first child killer we’ve dealt with. So, what’s changed?” He took my hands in his and begun to rub small circles around them, offering me a small sense of comfort. His tone was soft. I could tell he was asking from a place of genuine care for me. 

“I knew her.” I confessed. Hotch’s hand stilled on mine. “She was my niece.” Hotch looked slightly puzzled at my words. 

“But her parents, they’d never seen you before?” He asked. 

“Well, you know how they told you she was adopted when she was a child? And that her birth mother passed away a few months after they took abbey into their care? Her mum was my sister. Making abbey my niece.” I explained in a low tone. 

“H-how long have you known?” Hotch questioned. 

“I’ve known for a while. I knew before we took the case.” I replied. 

“You knew this entire time and you didn’t say anything? Not even when we found her?” Hotch sounded shocked. 

“I just couldn’t face it at the time. We needed to find the Unsub and I didn’t have time to let my feelings get in the way. They weren’t important.” I said looking at the ground. Hotch sighed . I felt him placed his finger under my chin and gently guide my eyes up to meet his. 

“Listen to me okay, your feelings matter. They will always matter. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to have seen that yet continue to work the case and I’m deeply sorry for your loss. But please, never hide your feelings from us. From me. You’ve helped me on countless occasions, and I apologize if I haven’t made you feel like I could return the favour.” I shook my head. 

“No this isn’t you Hotch. I know I could’ve mentioned it to you. I just –“ I hesitated before  continuing. Hotch continued to stroke my hand softly. 

“I’ve spent so long having to just deal with my emotions alone. I’ve never really had anyone who cared enough to listen, so I’ve just learnt to keep it to myself. So now I have you, a-and the team, it’s just hard to open up you know?” I explained. Hotch gently reached up and placed his hand on my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed as I leant into his touch. I didn’t realise how much I craved his touch until now. 

“I understand. But I hope you do know that you can talk to me. About anything. Whenever you need me, just come, and find me. Yeah?” I nodded slightly at his words. I could feel tears beginning to slip from my eyes again. Hotch slowly wiped them away with his thumb. 

“Thank you. For everything.” I whispered. 

“You don’t need to thank me.” He replied in soft tone, smiling at me. “I love you too much to watch you suffer alone.” His voice was low, almost at a whisper. My eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“Y-you love me?” Hotch sighed at my words. 

“I’m not expecting you to feel the same, but you needed to know that you’re loved. By no one more than me.” He explained. I just starred at him trying to process what he’d just said. I’d had feelings for hotch ever since I met him, but I’d never been 100% sure until now. Slowly, I leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. It wasn’t long, but enough for him to know I reciprocated his feelings. As I pulled away, he looked at me slightly shocked at my actions. I looked at him nervously. Maybe he didn’t love me. Maybe he was just saying to make me feel better. Shit, what had I done? Before I could regret my choice any longer, Hotch leant forward to reconnect my lips with his but this time it was deeper – with a lot more passion. He cupped my face in his hands softly, as if he was scared to lose me. I shifted on his lap, so I was essentially straddling him. I felt him smile against my lips as he placed his hands just above my hips, holding me close to him. My fingers interwind in his black hair tugging slightly. Eventually we had to pull away for air. 

“Hotch I-“ 

“Aaron. Call me Aaron.” He said cutting me off by placing his finger to my lips. I smiled at him. The smile he returned to me in that moment was brighter and fuller of joy than anything I’d seen in the past. My cheeks flushed red as I suddenly became shy, so I leant forward and buried my head in the crook of his neck. This caused him to chuckle, sending warm vibrations throughout my chest. He wrapped his arms around me and held me flush against him. We stayed like that for a while, just enjoying our newfound love for one another.

[apherod]

Rubian Soulmate AU

I finally finished writing it ahhhh

I eventually decided that I was going for a sketch-style writing for this. Just short bits and pieces here and there, piecing together some scenes, but not fully fleshed out into a storyline (it coincides with the original story mostly anyway)

So here it is! Enjoy!

This is a Liam and Ruby Soulmate AU requested by an anon (possibly @thedarkestcrew?) ask, in which damage done to one half of the soulmate pair would translate to the other half. 

Word count: 4400

===

Liam

“Where did all these bruises come from?”

I was driving through Highway 95 in Maryland when I noticed the bruises crowning my knuckles. They just…appeared, like petals floating to the surface of water. It is possible that I punched something—or someone—at some point in the last few days, or tripped and fell, and using…my fists to break the fall? But I don’t recall doing any of that.

Then again, my head hadn’t been the most reliable in these past few weeks, either.

They weren’t the first. A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with a cut on my upper arm, and the blood drenched half of my sleeve, but the sleeve wasn’t torn or cut, so it couldn’t have been me… Another one came a few days after that, when I was driving, and a sudden searing pain came to my wrist, like I was burnt by a frying pan, but that part of my skin wasn’t even touching anything. The list goes on.

I think I’m going insane.

Some people…some who are lucky enough to find their soulmates, found themselves with identical wounds on them, because when one half of that bond gets hurt, the other one suffers, too. Mom’s bruises never translated onto our birth dad. Maybe that was why he was so okay with hurting her. It wasn’t until she met Harry, did that magic—or curse—work on both of them.

But that’s exactly that—it only happens after you’ve met the person. If I’ve somehow met her, and didn’t know who she was, then I’ve really screwed up. Big time.

It couldn’t have been anyone in Caledonia, otherwise I would’ve known. No one from home, either. There weren’t even that many of us left. Could it be someone from East River? For some reason, I just couldn’t be sure… There’re this weird quality in my memory when I think of East River, glowing tinge surrounding everything, blurring details, and flaring up the edges, making it hard to see for too long.

Also, if I met her in East River, why isn’t she with me?

If she’s really out there, I felt sorry for all the pain I’ve caused her in the past few days. When I narrowly escaped that group of Skip Tracers, my arms were all cut up, real pretty. I can’t imagine the horror she must have felt when her arms just, out of nowhere, started spontaneously bleeding half of her blood out.

I really ought to take better care of myself, even if it’s just for her sake.

When I crossed the state boarder into Pennsylvania, I managed to find an old payphone, and left a voice mail for my brother to let him know where I am, and that I’m coming his way. I didn’t want to—asking for Cole’s help was one of the few things that I genuinely want to avoid—but I’m really desperate.

The truth is, just imagining him gloating about this—about me needing his help—was almost enough to make me turn around. Think about the last time I asked for his help… didn’t work out so well, did it? But whatever Cole has to offer, whatever nightmare I have to live through going back to the League, is better than being hauled back into the camp.

I don’t think they’d actually take me back into a camp, anyway.

When I got passed the wrong Wilmington, I briefly glimpsed the road sign that read US 13, and a voice suddenly rang in my head.

Turn off here. It urged.

The feeling was distinctly different from my reluctance to meet Cole—it was a drive, asking me to go somewhere, rather than run from somewhere.

Whatever it was, I can’t listen, no matter how hard I wanted to, no matter how it warmed my heart just thinking about that impulse, like it would lead me home, even though I had no idea how.

I got into the city of Philadelphia, and found my brother’s apartment soon enough. When I got into his building, a woman threw me a sideway glance that made my hair stood on their ends.

Please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me… I muttered in my head while I pressed the buzzer. The door swung opened, and I was snatched inside by a forceful arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cole snarled before I could even lay eyes on him properly. “Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”

He looked much better than me, that much was clear. Cole never had any wound that wasn’t his own, and from the looks of him, he hadn’t seen much action lately. His hair was clean-cut, brushed neatly away from his face. He was wearing a white shirt and dark blue jeans, with metal-frame glasses which were clearly without diopters to finish the look. In this getup, you’d expect him to be a graduate student in U Penn, not a high school dropout.

“I… I didn’t have any money to place a call.” I muttered, feeling my voice getting smaller. Gosh, I hated this. I hated that I felt like a child again. I took off my jacket, and hung it on the peg right next to his. They were two identical black leather jackets, which Mom bought us years ago—she got them a couple of sizes bigger than we were at the time, in anticipation that we would eventually grow into them. Cole did, whereas I felt like I still hadn’t.

Cole let out a long and harsh breath, and gave me a scan head to toe. “You’ve seen better days.” He commented eventually, a subtle amusement in his tone. “Even for you, this is a bit excessive…” He gingerly lifted my right wrist, and got a good look at my forearm, all cut up.

You don’t say. I wanted to retort, but didn’t. “What are you doing in Philly?” I asked as I retracted my hand.

Cole raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

Maybe not. “I’d probably know eventually, wouldn’t I?” I said.

He scratched his chin, frowning. “You know what this means, right? You know where we’re going?”

“Look, if I could just find Mom and Harry…” I began, but he raised his hand and stopped me.

“No,” He snapped, “We don’t have that kind of time. My assignment here is done. I’m being extracted at midnight, which is in less than four hours, and if you think I’d let you out running into the wild and being hauled into a camp again, you’d have another thought coming.”

Choose me. I remembered the subtext of what Cole said that night when he left home, and now it was ringing in a different tone. Now I don’t have a choice.

“All right.” I sighed. “Whatever you say.”

He frowned deeper. But it took him a while to say something. “Look, I know the last time you came with me, it didn’t end so well, but things are turning around.” He said, palms down, pacifying. “I promise, just stick it out a few months.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

He bit his lip. “I just do. Trust me.” He said, then gave me a tight smile, “Tell you what, I’ll go get us something to eat, and you clearly need a shower.” He took off his glasses, grabbed the keys, then, as if remembered something, added with a grin, “Do not, drown in the bathtub.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes.

Before he could open the door, though, I stopped him. “Cole,” I began, but didn’t really know how to finish.

“Yeah?” He prompted.

“Have we...” I caught myself just for a moment. What am I doing? “...have we ever been to Virginia Beach?”

Because that…memory? was so vivid, that I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there, calling me at every moment I so much as allowed my mind to idle for a second. But it also had that bright glare around it, like it didn’t really belong to me, like I was seeing it through a mirror, into a different dimension where we were all happier people.

Cole was there, looking exactly like how he was now, but Claire was also there, and that didn’t make any sense…

“No…?” Cole said, “We lived in Wilmington. We went to Wrightsville, remember?”

Of course I do, but… I shook my head. “It’s just… I kept seeing this…memory, that we were there, and Claire was there, too…”

Cole pressed his lips tight. I know mentioning Claire’s name would probably put him on edge, but it’s not like I have other people to talk about her with anyway. A part of me wanted to be a bit mean about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t have the strength.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, voice rigid. “Just go take your shower. I’ll be back with the food.”

And he left, leaving me alone in his white and bare apartment.

I still couldn’t be sure that it was a good idea coming here. If I’m being honest with myself, it wasn’t even about my negative view on the League, or what it had turned my brother into, but that…I’m not sure how to be his brother anymore. I’m not even sure that he needs a brother.

Hell. Looking around this place, I got the feeling that a brother wasn’t the only thing he didn’t need. But then again, knowing how Cole kept his room, it was maybe a good thing that he had so few belongings here. This place…it didn’t even feel like someone actually live here; there were so few things breaking the white of the walls, it was almost glaring to my eyes.

I first went to check his bed, to see if he still has that weird habit—falling asleep with cigarettes still in his hand. His bedsheet looked clean enough; nothing charred. No ashtray, either. Maybe he quit.

Satisfied, I went to grab a t-shirt and a pair of pants from his closet, and dived into the pressurized water in his shower.

I can’t remember when was the last time I had running water. Probably…when I was in the League’s safe house? Gosh. My skin is so filthy, the water only started running clean after a good ten minutes of scrubbing, and I was scrubbing hard.

I was extra careful when I cleaned my arms, though. Not particularly because I was scared of pain, but more that I didn’t want to hurt this…person who might share this unfortunate connection with me, however low the chance might be. I didn’t want to make her suffer even more—somehow, I knew it was a her, for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words.

When I got out of the shower, I felt like my entire body had been turned inside out. My skin was glowing pink against the white tiling of Cole’s bathroom. He is an inch or two taller than me—which was sore to admit, but hey, I went through puberty in a lot worse condition than he did—so his pants hung a little too long around my ankles.

Then I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I looked awful. The dark shadows under my eyes were so purple, they looked almost black. Not to mention the countless scratches and bruises. There was a new one on my left cheek, just above the jawline. Whether it was mine or hers, I didn’t know.

Just as I threw the towel over my head, and started rubbing the water away from my hair, I heard it—siren. It began from a distance, a low wailing, but it was enough to set every hair on my back on its end. As I flew out of Cole’s shower, grabbed my jacket, and rushed to the window side, the siren got closer—and multiplied. The sound of them were like a harmony from hell.

Should I run? Should I stay?

I should run.

Even though they might not be coming for me, I knew better than to push my luck—it hadn’t really been on my side recently, and that woman who looked at me a second too long when I got in the building was probably proving me right. I threw the apartment door open, and on a second thought, ran for the roof instead of the ground floor.

I can reconvene with Cole later. I need to stay out of sight now. Cole’s a smart guy, he knows what to do in a situation like this.

It had started raining. I tripped on a mossy patch on the rooftop, and almost broke my jaw, but I stood up and kept running. I pushed myself over the ledge of the next building, and sprinted for the fire escape on the far end. The sound of the first bullet fired almost made me lose my bearing when I lowered myself onto the metal shaft.

They are on the other side. There were two fully populated buildings between me and those bullets, and they were firing at someone else—which means I’m not who they’re after. These are all good news.

Right?

Since when had I been that lucky after I turned twelve?

I pulled the hood of the jacket over my head, and dove into the shadow of the next alley. The gunfire had stopped, which meant that they probably got whoever they were after. I took the long way around the block, trying to get a hang of the situation, getting an idea of where I could find Cole without being spotted—

Oh, I found him alright.

Fuck. No. Fuck.

I only caught sight of him for a second before they slammed the back of that van shut, and in that brief second, he looked up, and he saw me.

No.

Christ. No. I… I got him caught. I did… I did this… Why didn’t I warn him? Why didn’t I go to him as soon as I heard the siren?

What have I done?

If you’re caught, you’re disavowed. I still remembered that phrase like it was etched into my skull. If anything encapsulates what I hate about the League the most, this is it. And now, Cole is going to be another casualty under that cold hard rule. The thought almost made my knees buckled, but instead of crashing down, I up and ran.

I ran. From this nightmare of my own making.

+++

Ruby

“Ruby!”

The scream came before the punch could land. I didn’t register what was happening in that first moment, not until the blood was dripping down my elbows, and staining the blue mats under us.

“Go to the infirmary!” Coach Johnson ordered, and I gladly obeyed. I could hear the whispering judgements forming even before I left the training room—what was that? What’s wrong with her? Where did those come from?

I knew exactly where they came from.

If Chubs was here, he’d likely yell at me for not getting these wounds taken care of immediately, but I simply…couldn’t. I ran for the shower stall, being careful not to stain the curtain, and turn on the tap.

With the water pouring out the showerhead, steaming up every bit of air around me, blurring my vision, I finally let the tears fall.

My arms didn’t hurt that much. At least, not as much as my heart. The bruises were bearable—who doesn’t get those occasionally living in the wild? I got one every other day even just from the training. But these cuts…he was in danger. Maybe he only got away with it within an inch of his life.

The only consolation I had was that I wasn’t mortally wounded, which meant he wasn’t, either. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t regret my decision of letting him go every second of every day.

If I did that to protect him, all these wounds and bruises only proved how wrong I was, how in vain my suffering had been.

“Ruby?” Cate’s voice.

I swallowed hard before answering. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?” She asked, standing outside of my stall.

“Yes.” I lied.

“Coach Johnson said you were hurt—” She didn’t buy it. “Look, if you don’t want to go to the infirmary, I can take a look—”

“I’m fine.” I cut her off. The timer on the tap beeped, warning me that the water would start running cold. My blood was dripping down from my fingers, dropping into the shallow water on the concrete floor like roses blooming in the snow.

“Ruby, I can see the blood.” Cate said dryly, then softer, coaxing. “Come out, please. Let me dress your wounds.”

Only if I could just close my eyes, and pretend for a second that the person who was waiting for me with antiseptic was Chubs, not Cate. If only I could pretend that these wounds were mine, not of the boy that I dreamt of every night for the past few months.

If only I could pretend that they were here with me, or that I wasn’t here at all.

I sighed, and brushed the curtain open. To Cate’s credit, she didn’t flinch at the sight of me. “Oh, Ruby…” She said with a tone like I was a stray cat ready to be put down. She reached out, and gingerly lifted my hand to get a better look at my arm.

“Press on it.” She handed me a towel, and sat down on the bench before patting the empty space beside her, motioning for me to join her.

I did as she said as she tore open a paper package. “This is going to hurt a little…” She gently dabbed the fabric square on my wounds, and I hissed out of reflex. I hated this. I hated showing her my weakness, and I guessed, in a weird way, she understood that. She didn’t comment on any of it, only continued to wrap my arms up in silence.

“There.” When she’s done, both of my forearms were wrapped entirely in gauzes.

“Th…thank you.” I managed to choke out.

She gave me a tender smile. “Don’t mention it.” She stood up, collecting the empty packages off the bench, and turned to leave.

Before she was out of the door, however, she turned around, and said, “You know, you get those wounds together, and you heal together, too.” She paused for a second, “You’re…not entirely helpless in this situation.”

Ten minutes after she left, I was still sitting on that bench, pondering her words. I didn’t even know what she said was true, but if it was, it meant that when I took care of myself, I took care of him, too. That, somehow, didn’t seem so bad.

I wondered how Cate knew that. She and Rob were clearly not soulmates, and I didn’t even know why she would want to date him, even without considering that fact. Rob—ruthless, arrogant, hateful—was everything opposite to what she seemed to hold dear.

But then again, she probably didn’t understand why someone would find their soulmate only to let them go on their own.

That day when I let Liam go, I made a decision that I would be whoever the League wants me to be, and make it so that they wouldn’t miss him. And for the longest time, I had kept to that promise. But not today, not now.

I just want to be myself again, even if it’s just for a moment.

So I brushed open the curtain to the stall, and allowed myself to be vulnerable again, for everyone and no one to see.

+++

His eyes traveled from my face to where the water had collected on my chest, and I raised my arms just that much higher.

His mouth half-opened for what I was sure to be a snide remark, but whatever it was never managed to pass his lips. His face froze, brows drew together, and he reached out. Before I could shift away—to where though, I had no idea; my back was already against the wall—he grabbed my wrist, and lifted my arm.

“It was you.” Cole said with a tone of half astonishment, half…anger?

“What was?” I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide how much I felt like a kid being caught red-handed, stealing candy bars.

He threw me a “really?” look. “Don’t insult my intelligence.” He snapped, “These are Liam’s, aren’t they?”

I almost asked “how do you know”, but that would confirm his suspicion. “What makes you say that?” I asked instead.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not playing games with you.” He huffed, “Soulmates should stick together. What were you thinking sending him out into the wild? Do you have any idea how dangerous he is to you? Or you to him? The poor bastard doesn’t even know you exist!”

“And as long as I stay in the League, that fact shall remain.” I said, more resolute and calmer than I thought possible.

He blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Look, I don’t care what kind of sainthood complex you have going on, I’m telling you—you are not doing either of you any favors, and if you think this is somehow a good idea, I beg you, think again, because you definitely look smarter than this.”

“What do you know?” I retorted, finally couldn’t keep the lid on my anger anymore. “Do you have any idea how much he hates it here? How hard he was trying to avoid this place before you drag him into this mess?”

Cole really laughed. “You think I don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I met his glare head on. “I was the one that let him go when he got away that first time.” He tried to brush his hair back with his hand, but it gave out a weird flex before he could reach his head. “And I’ve seen enough soulmates pairs in my life to know that I never want one. Have you any idea what would happen to him if you were injured when he was on the run? Soulmates stick together so they don’t double their chances on dying, but I guess no one ever set your logic straight, did they?”

My head was so flushed with anger that I actually let him finished.

“Go find him.” Cole snapped. “And for Christ’s sake, stay together this time.”

+++

Liam

“I didn’t need freedom; I needed you!” I half-screamed, trying to get the frustration out past the chaos raging in my head. How could I—? How could she—? What the hell—?

On the receiving end of my scream, Ruby’s face was painted with grief, lined with tears that almost made my anger buckle. Almost.

“Did you just…not want to be with me anymore?” Facing her silence, my pain came out softer eventually. Please, just tell me, and I will leave you alone.

“No…” She choked out. “I… I was wrong.” She swallowed hard before continuing, and despite the anger still roaming my vein, I wanted to reach out and touch her. “We should…we should stay together. I knew I couldn’t bear to see you with the League, see them take away all the good in you that I love…”

“Is that how you think of me?” I snapped before I realized what I was doing, “That I am so weak that the League is bound to break me?”

“No!” She shook her head violently, “No, I don’t think you are weak… If anything, I think you are much stronger than me. But I was weak.” She finally looked back at me, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light of this dust-covered room. “I’m so sorry.”

Before I could react to what she said—I didn’t even know what I was going to say or do—the sound of a gunshot broke every single thought clean out of my head.

Ruby was running before I could do anything about it. She pushed the door of the shop open, and another shot blew open the window on the outside, shattering the glass all over the floor.

“Ruby!” I shouted as I dodged, crouching with my hands over my ears, but she was already up and running again, out of the door and behind the woman that was escaping the scene—with a gun in her hands.

“Ruby, stop!” I shouted again, got on my feet to catch her, but I never manage. I skidded on the broken glass, and fell, hands first, into the shards.

I heard her hiss. She stopped dead on her way, and whirled around to find me on the floor, holding my right hand on my laps, pressing it against the fabric of my jeans to try and stop the bleeding.

The blood was dripping down to her fingers. As she walked slowly towards me, the red, looking almost black, dropped on the dust-covered floor, leaving a spotting route, marking her path. When she knelt down beside me, finally close enough to touch me, I found that she was smiling. A totally mirthless, wry and painful smile.

“Give me your hand.” She said softly, almost like a whisper.

“You should treat yours first.” I said, trying to catch her hand, to see how much of a damage I’d done.

“We only need to treat one of us.” She let out a small breath, almost like something caught there. “We get them together, and we heal them together, too.”

That, somehow, broke through all the mess in my head and reached my mind. I let her take my arm, and carefully wrap her scarf on my hand, all the while her words played on repeat in my head.

We get them together, and we heal them together, too.

When she was done wrapping my hand up, the wounds on her hand stopped bleeding, too. I didn’t know why—I wasn’t even completely over that anger or frustration—but when she placed her hand in mine, a tender “there” escaping her lips, all I wanted to do was kiss her.

Instead, I gently enveloped my fingers around her hand. “There.” I said, pressing my good hand over hers.

And we stayed in that silent, that touch, just a little while longer.

+++

[mendesbhraanth]

Hi beautiful sending you love mwah 😘😘 just wanted to know if you can write something were you hear Shawn talk badly about you so you distance yourself. Please.

Thank you so much for requesting!! 😘😘

Pairing : Shawn x y/n

Warnings : language and angst

Word count : 2.8 k

The first thing you heard when you opened the door to Shawn's condo was basically loud laughter of people including your boyfriend's. You just came back from work, a bit earlier than usual because shawn had been complaining about how he doesn't get to spend time with you because work has been crazy for you and you had a lot of files to finish and you were hella tired of your boss being a complete asshole, who never lets anyone stay home and he was no different to you. Anyways you were not at all aware of the fact that he had guests over.

The sound was coming from the living area of Shawn's penthouse apartment and apart from Shawn's, you recognised the laughter as Brian's, and Connor's. A small smile creeped on your face. You absolutely adored Shawn's friends so you walked towards the living to say 'hi' to them.

You were close enough to hear what they were talking about when your legs came to halt at the mention of you name.

"So how's life with y/n? Tour's over....You're free and now that y/n is staying with you, you must have a lot of cheesy things to say" Connor said whilst laughing.

"Oh yeah I actually do but not right now because why the hell would you mention my so called clingy girlfriend?" Shawn said and Brian laughed so loudly at that but your heart stopped.

"What??! What are you saying?!?" Connor said because shawn has been the most "I'm obsessed with my girlfriend and she is my goddess!!" Type of guy he had ever met.

"I said y/n is extremely clingy and annoying and I don't have anything good to say about her right now so please stop talking about that hoe!!" Shawn said and started laughing like crazy with Brian. Both of their laughs clouding your mind. You just stood there not able to comprehend anything.

You turned around silently, grabbed your keys and left the apartment in the same clothes you came in.

You got in your car and started driving slowly. You were now driving to nowhere for about 30 mins.

The moment you processed the words shawn said you slammed the break and your head came down on the stearing wheel with a plasticy bang.. must have been painfull.. ow poor y/n.

Did he really say that?!? Does he think I'm an annoying clingy hoe?!? Hell! "HE" was the one who wanted me to stay home and spend time with 'HIM'!! And I'm clingy?!? Is this the guy you've been in love with for what? Like 3 years?!! How could he call you a hoe!?! Why would any boyfriend disrespect his girlfriend like that??!? This is the worst day ever!!

All these thoughts were knocked out from your mind by a loud honking sound. You were basically in the middle of a road and by now, there were tons of cars parked behind you. Wow! You just created a big traffic block in the middle of Toronto city. Go you!! *Claps of sarcasm*

You quickly turned around and took another route to make your way back to Shawn's apartment like nothing happened. Haha asshole! but sometimes you gotta act like you weren't the cause of a huge ass traffic block..

You didn't know exactly why you were going back. To lay it onto him?? To get your things?? I don't know but you got home with slouched shoulders and an emotion less face.

You were about to reach and open the door when Shawn opened the door and a bright smile appeared on his face on seeing you which almost made you forget about the things he just said. Eh but not really.

"Baby!!!! I missed you so much today!!" He said and went in for a hug and you hugged him back it was as if someone was clawing at your heart.

"I'm just gonna walk these guys out and I'll be back in a second okay? You get freshened by then" He said sweetly but right now his words seemed anything but sweet!

How dare he say that to them and then act like nothing happened?? That too infront of them?!?! Which speaking of-!

"Hey y/n!!!" Connor and Brian said at the same time and both hugged you and you silently hugged them back, with a fake smile that could basically convince anyone but not Shawn.

"You guys go ahead I'll come in a sec" he said and turned to you.

"Okay then Bye y/n" they both bid their goodbyes and made their way to the lift.

"Hey what happened baby? Any problem with your boss??" Shawn asked tilting your chin up to look you in the eyes.There was evident hurt in them.

You were debating to weather tell him or push him away but you didn't choose any of that.

"Yeah..had a bad day at work"

"Aww baby you go inside and sit down okay! I'll be back after properly saying goodbye to the guys and you can tell me all about your day. Alright?" He asked sweetly but it sounded like straight up sarcasm to you but you chose not to call him out right now.

He gave you a short peck and there he goes ....'probably gonna talk more shit about me' you thought to your self which and it made you feel like your heart was stabbing itself.

You went inside and sat yourself on the couch. The same couch where the love of your life talked shit about you being a clingy hoe. (Sorry I'm just over dramatic 😅)

About 5 mins later shawn came in and sat by your side.

"What happened baby?? What did your crazy boss do this time?" He asked while taking your hand in his and slowly stroking the back of your hand with his other hand but you didnt move.

"Nothing..just the usual..I have...work...just...I-!...I'm going to take a shower" you said. A slight frown appeared on Shawn's face. But he understood....some days you were like this when work really stressed you out.

'Maybe she doesn't wanna talk about it' he thought.

"Okay baby" he said and you stood up from the couch and before you walked 4 steps shawn caught your hand and pulled you into him.

He craddled your face in his warm huge palms that always made you melt like it wasn't even a big deal at all and kissed your lips sweetly.

You kissed him back but pulled away quicker that shawn would have liked which caused a small pout on his perfectly soft pink lips and all you wanted to do was kiss it away so that's what you did but quickly reminding yourself that he thinks your a clingy hoe and pulling away again.

"Let me kiss my girl properly first" he said smiling at you and you'd be lying if you said it doesn't do things to you even if your upset with him. How could he do this?!? One time he's saying he hates you and now he's all over you as if he really is?!?

"I'm tired shawn I wanna take a shower" you said while planting the same fake smile on your face. He frowned at you and them pulled you into a hug and you only dropped your hands low...not embracing the hug.

"Want me to join?' he asked playfully smirking at you and it literally made you feel all sorts of way but you knew it was all an act and he just.. thought you were a hoe.

"No I'm really tired shawn" you said now turning around and walking to the bathroom with tears forming real quick in your eyes.

"Okay... baby I'll start preparing dinner then" he said and you didn't fail to pick up the hurt in his voice. But why??? He doesn't care at all!! What a great ass actor?!? Your seriously doubting if you dreamed all that. But nah...its real..he hurt you.

You took a long ass shower washing yourself and feeling all your emotions get warmed up by the warm water and you just...started crying. You cried silenty under the shower where one couldn't distinguish tears from water. Maybe you were clingy. But that's only because you love him but why would he call you a HOE!?! Why?? Why would he disrespect you like that?? After 3 years of relationship, was your love for him making you look like a hoe??

After you got out of the shower, usually you would've just put on one of Shawn's hoodies and then go chill on the couch but today you just.. couldn't bring yourself to wear his clothes. So you put on one of your band t-shirts and some shorts and walked to the kitchen where Shawn had already prepared and put out dinner on the table and was waiting for your company.

He came to you with a toothless smile on his face which quickly dropped by half when he noticed you weren't wearing one of his clothes..but he didn't let it bother him that much or let's say... tried to act like it didn't bother him as much as it did. You still noticed it though..and it gave you a weird feeling.

He hugged you which again you didn't return.

"You smell so good!" He said pulling away from the hug and you gave him your half assed fake smile AGAIN.

Shawn was fully aware that something was wrong but he thought you'd tell him while having dinner.

He led you to the table and pulled the chair out for you like he always did and you both sat down to have dinner.

Awkwardness was all around the table.

You did not talk at all and even though shawn tried his best and asked you stuff to get you to talk about what's wrong or let's say..make it less awkward, all your replies were just..yes, no and silence.

After dinner you washed your plate and mumbled a goodnight that didn't feel like it was to ANYONE and went to sleep.

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

It went like this for a few days.. you being extra awkward to Shawn and purposely avoiding him and distancing yourself from him and being really down. He was really sad and hurt and frustrated because he would ask you whats the matter and you would either tell him "nothing" or just shrug your shoulders. You didn't even look him in the eyes anymore. Shawn was really really confused and even more worried.

Well how could you talk to him?!? After all he called you clingy and annoying which means he doesn't want you around and also he called you a hoe.

One day Shawn came back from the studio and saw you reading a book on the couch. A small smile creeped on his face knowing that you were reading some sort of romance novel.

"What are you doing?" He asked while coming and sitting next to you.

You were pretty lost in the book so you did not see him coming in.

"Oh just a stupid book haha... I have to get back to work now.." you said and got up to leave only to walk two steps and stop at the mention of your name.

"Y/n" you turned around to see Shawn now standing up from the couch with a very hurt look on his face.

"I don't know why but I noticed that you've been purposefully avoiding me for a few days..why are you doing that?? What did I do??please talk to me.." He asked now looking straight into your eyes and you could see right in his eyes that he was hurt.

"What? I don't know what your talking abou..-!" You were cut of by Shawn showing his palm infront of your face.

"Y/n stop...you know what you've been doing.....Is it me?? Did I do anything wrong?? Please talk to me.....you can always talk to me you know" he said now reaching for your hand but the moment his hand touched you you shook it away and backed off like he attacked you or something.

Shawn looked at you as if his heart just broke.

"No shawn..you should've thought about that before calling me a clingy, annoying hoe" you said for once and stormed in your bedroom slamming the door shut.

Shawn followed right behind you and got the door shut right on his face.

"What are you talking about-!? I- I-..! Dont understand! I never called you any of that!" Shawn said now leaning on the door.

"Stop fucking lying shawn I heard you talking with connor and Brian that day and you called me all those things!!" You barked from the other side of the door.

"Shit! Baby I can explain! Please open the door for me! I swear I didn't mean for you to hear it!" He said now banging on the door.

"Of course you didn't! And Explain what?!? That I'm being delusional and maybe even say some half assed lies?? How did I ever believe that you love me?!? Maybe I am clingy...But you called me a hoe!!"

"No baby please listen! I know it would've sounded so very wrong but just wasn't being serious! We were just joking around and I said that" he tried to explain and it did not even harm a hair of your anger.

"Haha what are you saying shawn?! That would never convince anyone! Try harder with your lies and leave me the fuck alone!" You said.

"Baby please believe me.. you are the most gorgeous and amazing women I've ever met and I could never ever say such things about you! I love you! Please believe me!" He said with tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"I wish I could believe you shawn..but I actually heard this with my own ears.." you said.. now wiping your own tears.

"Please open the door for me I will explain it all please just...hear me out!" He said now bringing his hands to his face to catch the spilling tears.

You opened the door to him kneeling on the floor. You sat next to him resting your back on the wall.

After a few seconds he came and sat next to you..... Both of you staring at whatever that was ahead of you.

"Explain" you said.

Shawn wiped his tears and started talking.

"So...that day..you went to work and connor and brian came over and we were chatting on the couch and you know how connor loves you and me together like he ships us so hard haha so me and Brian were just pranking him and joking around so I just said I don't like you to prank connor....it sounds so fake...I know but that's the truth..I should've never said that..even if it was a joke I'm so sorry baby. You can even call Brian or Connor right now and ask them if you don't believe me " he said

By now you felt almost dizzy..you're so dumb!! 😬..you were making such a huge ass deal about this. OMG you're so stupid!! Wtf?? How could you be so stupid?? Like..all of this would've never happen if you just opened your mouth and talked to your boyfriend!!!!

"I..-! I'm sorry" you said, looking at Shawn who was already looking at you.

"I'm so so sorry baby I thought you didn't love me anymore I mean..I know I'm not that good looking and you could basically have any girl you wanted and I just-! I'm so sorry!! Ya know I always am terrified that one day I'll wake up and you don't love me anymore and I just-.... I should've just talked to you about this. Shit! I'm so stupid this is all my fault!!" You were full on crying right now and shawn just pulled you to his chest while you cried.

"Hey Don't say that!! You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on and I can't even imagine living a life where you hate me and it's okay bubba I mean..if I was you this is exactly how I would've acted but from now on ..please talk to me if I did something that upsets you....I hate it when we cry" shawn said cracking a small smile.

"I'm sorry again" you said pouting your lips only for shawn to grab your face and kiss your frown away replacing it with a genuine smile, Something that has been lacking from your face for the past few days.

"It's alright now do you wanna make dinner or get Mc Donalds??"

You smiled at your sweet boy. He already knew the answer.

"Mc Donalds it is!"

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

*************************************

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

***************************************

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Check pinned post for latest chapter updates💕

[mangotelevision]

Okay so I feel like in season three there was no need for that three year time skip, there just wasn't???? I feel like season three would've been better if it just picked up right where season two left off, also it could have shown why katelyn and garroth hate each other so much???? Because they were so chill with each other in season two,,,, like what happened??????

This is probably going to be really long, I apologize in advance

Okay so I feel like if there was no time skip katelyn and garroth would still fight all the time, but this time it would openly be about laurence. Because katelyn really wants to go and talk to him, she wants to know why he left and try to bring him back, and garroth is really against it. He says the same shit he does back in season one with that guard code and all that, and katelyn's not having any of it, she calls him out on his bullshit. That's their big argument is whether or not to go get laurence, but also,,,,,,, I want some garroth build up for the selfish asshole he is in season three. And I feel like him low-key loving laurence might cause that spite, I just want garroth not to know how to deal with it and taking all of those emotions out on katelyn.

I also really want to know how they met liochant. And I feel like this would further katelyn and garroths fighting. garroth feels like liochant is a replacement for laurence and he starts lashing out a liochant too. And that's why katelyn sticks up for liochant, out of pure spite towards garroth just to piss him off even more. Then maybe their arguments could lead into garroth not trusting katelyn's judgement, but also,,,,, I really want garroth to mention that katelyn was in the jury, I high-key want garroth to call katelyn out on the people she's probably killed. And just ahhhhhh, all of this on top of aph being pregnant with the child of a man who just died, and garroth might call her out on that too, about how he no longer trusts her judgement fully and basically blame her for laurence leaving, I would love for a season three rewrite to just be full of angst and arguments because oh boy shit gets messy. Like I want garroth to basically be like "hey we all know it right??? Laurence leaving is aphmau's fault, because he loved you more then you'll ever care to admit, and yet you took his love for granted and now he's gone" I just ahhhh I really want these three to be at each other's throats

Also i think it would be really cool if some of the screen time was focused on laurence in the nether. It would just let us know more about the shadow knights rebellion and just basically what goes on in there. I just really want to see how laurence and zenix met up and why they're on the same side now, just ahhh there's so much I want to talk about, Im genuinely so tempted to write out some scenes because ahhhhh I have so much I want to say

[thetravelerwrites]

Heat (Part 1)

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Tabaxi/Male Human/Fem-Intersex Tiefling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Babies, Mention of Pregnancy, Children, Kids, Tabaxi, Tiefling, Intersex, Pregnancy, Fatherhood, In Heat, Mating Cycles, Contraceptive Words: 4311

Rings goes into an intense heat and decides to isolate herself to prevent conceiving a child, whereas Ebert goes on a quest to find rare components to create a stronger contraceptive for her. Commissioned by @ocsmutpocalypse!

Rings had been acting weird. More weird than normal. And her normal weirdness was… pretty weird, by anyone’s standards. She spent a lot of time camping in the woods and snapped at anyone who came near her, including Ebert, Reverence, and her sister. Buttons couldn’t be in the same room as Rings, hissing and spitting at her before scrabbling for the door in a frothing rage.

Ebert hadn’t realized the change in her behavior at first, since Ethrik was a year and a half old, and Ebert’s second child had just been born a few months before, which took up all his attention. The child was like Reverence in that they were between genders and were not old enough to decide which gender they most identified with. Ebert and Reverence decided to name them Evo, short for “evolving,” and figured that they could change their name when they were old enough to choose.

So it was a few days before Ebert noticed her odd behavior and pointed it out to Reverence.

“Ah,” Reverence said, breastfeeding Evo. “Maybe she’s in heat.”

“Heat?” Ebert said, confused. “She’s never gone into heat before.”

“Well, not since you’ve been here, but that’s only been two years. It’s happened twice before, and they were random. Her sister says that Rings normally takes some sort of suppressant which works well enough typically, but every once in a while, the urge gets too strong and her body rebels against her.”

“Huh,” Ebert said. “Well, she takes the birth control medicine that I make, so she should be alright, right?”

Reverence shook her head, patting Evo’s bottom as they suckled. “Biological imperative in her species can be pretty strong, and no birth control is 100% effective. Rings hates the idea of having children more than anything, so the possibility that she might conceive is something she simply cannot tolerate. It’s why she normally secluded herself during her heats. Which is unfortunate for her. The last one was two months long. She came back in very poor shape; it took weeks for her to recover.”

Ebert frowned. “That’s disconcerting. Can nothing be done to help her?”

“According to Spring, if she copulates, the heat passes in a matter of days, but Rings won’t risk it. The idea of motherhood repulses her.”

“I know that all too well,” Ebert said. “I’m going to go to the cottage and see if I can work on something for her. I don’t like the idea of her being isolated for two months, especially since winter is coming soon.”

Reverence nodded and kissed him goodbye, and Ebert trekked into the woods and to the cottage where he did is magical work. As he was walking up, he heard glass break inside the cottage.

Taking out a short sword he’d been given and preparing a fireball, he called out, “Declare yourself!”

“Fuck off!” He heard in response, Rings’ annoyed voice loud enough to rattle the windows in the frame.

“Rings?” He said, dropping his sword and letting the fireball spell fizzle out in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing in there? What did you break?”

“Who cares? Go away!”

“I need my workspace!” Ebert said, putting the key in the door, but it refused to open. He had a feeling Rings was sitting in front of the door. “Reverence told me you’re in heat! I’m going to try and make a new contraceptive for you!”

“What do you know?” Rings yelled, banging against the door as he pushed on it. “Go ask Cassandra! She knows more about herbs and medicine than you do, you quack!”

Ebert grimaced, but he knew she wasn’t wrong. Cassandra was an aasimar and alumnus from his old academy, one who actually graduated and hadn’t committed a crime against nature, like he had. She and her lover had settled in the village less than a month previous.

Her specialty was prophecy and soothsaying, but she was also well versed in magical medicine and herbalism. Ebert was a good physician, but he wasn’t much of an apothecary He’d deferred to her expertise on several occasions, including the production of the original contraceptive. He was lucky she was more interested in working as a fortune teller and not as a medicine maker, or she could have taken half his business, if she’d had a mind to it.

“Yeah, I love you, too!” Ebert retorted, stalking off.

Cassandra lived with her lover, a minotaur named Bigby, near the temple and she did a lot of her business with the visitors. Getting your fortune told right outside of the temple was lucrative for both parties, so Reverence had allowed it as long as Cassandra agreed to support the temple and donate a small percentage of her earnings to the temple every month. Despite being a holy woman who lived a modest life in a small, two room house, Reverence was remarkably business savvy at times.

On the other hand, Bigby loved kids, and he often babysat for the villagers when they made their trips to the temple for a small fee. It was a good way to earn himself income and keep the littler tots out of trouble while their parents did their worshiping, so everyone got something out of the deal.

Cassandra was sitting at a booth that she had set up at the feet of Fysy’s statue outside of the temple. She was in the process of giving a reading to a parishioner, so Ebert waited awkwardly a small distance away for her to finish before approaching.

“Hello, necromancer,” Cassandra said pleasantly, her dark skin shining like bronze in the sunlight. “I’ve been waiting for you to come and see me. You certainly take your sweet time. I was wondering if I’d have to come and seek you out instead.”

“Yes, well,” Ebert said. “Rings is in heat.”

“I know,” She said, smugly magnanimous. “You’ve come to get medicinal advice, yes?”

“I suppose so,” Ebert admitted. “Rings and Reverence implied that the current contraceptive recipe will not be enough to override her body’s biological imperative. I need something stronger.”

“The recipe you have is pretty strong,” Cassandra said. “It would work for most mortal beings. Though, I will admit that Tabaxi bodies are very hardy and can expel most poisons with no effect to themselves. It’s no wonder that a normal recipe wouldn’t work for them.” She rubbed her chin. “There are a few herbs I know of that are effective. Bloodwort is one, and the bark of the red cedar is another. Bloodwort isn’t too hard to find, but red cedar isn’t native to this region. To find it, you’ll have to travel northwest for at least a week.” She stood up and came around the table, motioning to him to follow her. “Come.”

She led him to her home, where Bigby was chasing a passel of children around in the yard, pausing momentarily to raise a hand in greeting only to be set upon by many tiny hands, pushing him on his stomach and piling on.

“Here,” Cassandra said, pulling down a book. “This is a picture of the herbs I mentioned. When you find them, combine it with fennel seed, chasteberry, raspberry leaf, thistle, and red clover flowers. Boil on a low setting in clear water for at least three days, and add the decotion to a berry wine. Three tablespoons per day until the next cycle starts.”

Ebert pulled out his notebook and began to draw copies of each of the plants, writing down the recipe underneath the sketches.

“There’s an unusual symptom of this decotion, however,” Cassandra continued. “It doesn’t happen in humans, but in beastfolk, like tabaxis, it can cause an increase in sex drive. It’s still effective as a contraceptive in beastfolk, but it forces them to experience the worst of the heat in order to surpass it. I’d advise you to discuss it with Rings before making the trip. She may not appreciate the side effects.”

“I’ll do that,” Ebert said. “Although… Rings is usually my partner on these types of trips… I can’t imagine--”

“Going alone?” Cassandra said, finishing his sentence. “Then don’t. Certainly, Rings is a capable woman, but she’s not the only one. Her sister is also quite capable, and she would understand the urgency, especially considering she’s gone through a heat herself.”

“That’s true,” Ebert said. “I’ll ask Rings. Thanks, Cass.”

“It’s no trouble,” Cassandra replied pleasantly. “Give the children a kiss for me.”

Ebert waved and set off back to the cabin.

“Rings,” He said once he returned. Rings was still sitting against the door and refused to let him inside. “I spoke to Cassandra. I have to take a trip to get the ingredients she told me about. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“Okay,” She said. She sounded much more subdued than normal.

“Listen,” Ebert started, sitting awkwardly on the steps. “Cassandra said that the herbs have a strange side effect on beast people. It forces them to the peak of their heat and makes them more… needy. The heat passes faster, but… the urge to… procreate… gets stronger. Uncontrollable. I just wanted to be sure it’s something you’re willing to deal with.”

“I don’t know,” She said after a moment. “If that’s the case… Will you and Reverence shelter with me until it’s over? If I’m going to end up in the family way… I’d prefer it if the kid belonged to you or her. I trust the two of you more than anyone else. I know me; it’s just not in me to be a parent. I won’t care for the kid. But you two will. And that’s good enough for me.”

“We can do that,” Ebert said. “I’m sure Reverence would agree. I’ll discuss it with her before I leave, to be sure. I’m going to see if Spring will accompany me on this trip. She understands this better than me, after all.”

“That’ll be good,” Rings agreed. “She hasn’t been out of the village since we came here.” Ebert heard her laugh. “Make sure Flicker doesn’t get the wrong idea. Unless you’re planning on seducing Springs on the trip.”

“Gross. I’m not into sisters, thanks. And Flicker could rip me in half, so I’m not risking it.”

Flickering Flame was a Bengal tiger tabaxi soldier from a far off desert country and was in a relationship with Spring. He worked as a guard, protecting the village from hostile outsiders. Though Spring was monogamous and had chosen not to follow Fysy, Flicker was a disciple of Fysy and worshiped at the temple, an arrangement they had agreed on when they decided to become engaged.

“Yeah, that’s true. He would rip you in half. It would be funny,” Rings said, laughing in a subdued way.

“Are you okay?” Ebert asked in concern.

She sighed. “I’m anxious. I’m never anxious, and I hate it. And I’ve never had to worry about who I had sex with or when. I don’t feel like myself and I don’t like it.”

“We’re going to fix it,” Ebert said softly. “Even if I have to go alone. As fun as it is to see you squirm�� I miss you. The real you.”

“I miss me, too,” She said. “When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I talk to Spring,” He replied. “Probably tomorrow morning. I don’t want to delay too long.”

“Reverence is okay with it?” She asked.

“I haven’t talked to her yet, but I don’t imagine she’d be opposed to it. She’s not exactly restrictive or controlling.”

“True. And she can’t leave the village. She hasn’t set foot outside of the town’s boundary since she became the priestess decades ago.”

“I keep meaning to ask her the story behind that, but I’ve never had the opportunity. I heard she came from some place far away. I wonder how she ended up here.”

“I’ve never heard the full story, either,” Rings said. “Let’s ask her when you get back. It seems the three of us will be spending several days together, after all.”

Ebert struggled to his feet and brushed off his trouser. “I’m going to get going. I want to make arrangements before sundown.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

A heartbeat of time passed before she said, in a very quiet voice. “Be safe, okay? Don’t get killed, or I’ll be very angry with you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He said, chuckling.

“I’m serious,” She said, banging the door. “You’re useless without me.”

Ebert began to set off down the trail. “Don’t forget to eat.”

It didn’t take much to convince Spring to go with Ebert on his sojourn. She asked Bigby to look after Candle until she returned, and Bigby was happy to comply. Ebert also discussed having Bigby watch his tots when he returned and sheltered with Rings during her heat, and he was amiable.

Reverence was sympathetic to Ring’s plight and immediately agreed to help, offering to go to Rings at the cabin while Ebert was gone and satisfy her in ways that didn’t lead to children in the meantime. It wouldn’t be enough to end her heat, but it would keep her from losing her senses in the midst of an uncontrollable influx of hormones.

Spring met Ebert outside of her house the next morning wearing a practical traveling outfit with a sword strapped to her back.

“I wasn’t aware you owned a sword,” Ebert said, impressed.

“It’s Flicker’s,” She said. “I’m just borrowing it. I’m only glad he had one that suited a person my size. Of course, he calls it a letter opener.”

Ebert snorted. “You’re ready, then?”

“Yeah,” She replied, hitching up her pack. “We should follow the river until we hit open terrain. I’m familiar with the smell of red cedar, so finding it shouldn’t be as difficult as it would be without a tracker.”

“That’s definitely useful. Have you said farewell to Rings?”

“No, but I don’t think she’d welcome my company at the moment. I’ll greet her when we return.”

Fair enough. “Let’s head out.”

Traveling with Spring wasn’t as awkward or unpleasant as Ebert worried it could have been, especially considering the two of them weren’t necessarily close, despite his having lived in the village for several years by this point. The only time they really spoke was when he accompanied Rings or Reverence to dinner at Spring’s house.

He discovered that Spring was a good conversationalist and knew a lot about wilderness survival techniques, perhaps even more than Rings, which was reassuring, because Ebert knew fuck all about that.

Though she reminded Ebert of Rings in a number of ways, she was more even-keel and mellow-tempered than her sister. Whatever affection he might have developed for her during their trek, it definitely wasn’t attraction. More like a close friend or sibling, which actually relieved him. He hadn’t been close to any of his siblings, so having a familial relationship with someone was both unfamiliar and refreshing.

“The air is getting colder,” Spring said, pulling her scarf around her more tightly as they walked. “Another day, and we should be in the right area.”

“Great,” Ebert said in relief. “I hate camping.”

Spring snorted. “Yeah, I kinda figured. You do most of your grumbling right before bed.”

“I don’t mean to grumble,” He said, slightly embarrassed.

Spring laughed again. “You do it mostly under your breath, but I have good hearing.” Her feline ears flicked back and forth. “I honestly find it rather amusing. You remind me of Candle sometimes.”

“...thanks?”

“I just mean you like things a certain way. Candle is like that, too.” She hacked a branch out of her way. “Most children are.”

“Insinuating that I behave like a child?”

“I don’t mean it in a negative way. Rings is very similar. I think it’s just a side effect of not having a very good childhood. Rings hasn’t told me much about your childhood, but it’s easy enough to assume that it wasn’t a happy one, and you already know hers was terrible.”

“That’s true,” He admitted.

“We all need certain things when we’re children, chief among them is attention,” She said pensively. “Children grumble and gripe and make a fuss, and it seems irritating, but what they’re really asking for is attention. If you don’t get enough when you’re young, you grow up desperate for it. Rings acts out because she likes attention. I don’t think you necessarily want people to pay attention to you, but I think you do want people to listen. If you didn’t, I think you wouldn’t grumble out loud. People only make noise when they want someone to hear it, after all.”

“What are you, a philosopher?” Ebert laughed.

“Aren’t all mothers?” Spring replied, laughing herself.

The next day, as they were trekking near a treeline, Spring stopped and sniffed the air.

“I smell bloodroot,” She said. “It’s not far away. A few hundred meters, maybe.”

“Any whiff of red cedar yet?”

“No, but it likely won’t be long now. Bloodroot and red cedar are native to the same region.”

“Well, let’s collect as much as we can carry while we’re here. I don’t want to have to make another trip any time soon.”

They spent most of the afternoon plucking bloodroot plants, hoping there were seeds they could sow when they returned to the village. Another few hours travel before nightfall brought them to a grove with red cedar.

“Fucking finally,” Ebert sighed. “I was worried we’d have to travel another day to find this.”

“It is getting late, as it is,” Spring said, looking toward the setting sun. “It’d be best to set up camp now and harvest what we need in the morning.”

“Uuuugh,” Ebert groaned, throwing his head back dramatically, and Spring smiled at him in a fond, maternal sort of way.

Spring set about building a fire pit while Ebert looked for firewood from the nearby brush. He found valuable mushrooms and some lichen that would be useful as components and harvested those while he was at it, then returned to the clearing where they’d made camp.

“It doesn’t smell like rain tonight, which is good. I don’t feel like putting up the tent.”

Ebert groaned. “I don’t like sleeping in the open air.”

“Then you set up the tent,” She retorted.

Ebert’s groan deepened. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

“That’s what I thought.” She sat down at the newly built fire and put the cooking grate over it, setting a small pot on top of the grate and pouring water into it from her canteen. “Wanna cut up the onions and potatoes for the stew? I still have some jerky left, but I should hunt tomorrow for the trip back.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ebert said with a heavy sigh, settling himself with difficulty on the ground, setting his cane down next to him, and opening the drawstring pouch that contained their food supply. “One each, eh?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” She said.

“So, has Rings ever gone through heat like this before?” Ebert asked as he peeled the vegetables. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but I keep forgetting. This one seems severe.”

“She’s had a couple of heats since reaching adulthood, but not this bad,” Spring replied, tearing the jerky into small strips and throwing it into the pot. “It’s only as bad as this because Rings isn’t used to suppressing her urges. She’s always been impulsive and opportunistic. If she wants something, whether it’s food, money, sex, or whatever, she either takes it from wherever it’s most readily available or finds someone willing to give it to her, and she never hesitates. It’s why Fysy’s village suits her so well. Ordinarily.”

“True,” Ebert mused. “So stubborn. You’re older than her, right?”

Springs snorted. “By, like, three minutes. We’re from the same litter.”

“You two have such different personalities,” Ebert remarked.

“She’d hate to admit it, but she takes after our parents in temperament. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons she has no interest in having children; she hates the idea of turning out like them. That and she hates kids.”

“Yes,” Ebert replied. “Honestly, so did I, before I met Reverence. I mean, I still hate kids, but I like my kids. I guess I expected to turn out like my family. They were not in any way affectionate or sentimental, and up until Ethrik was born, I was the same way. I’d never have believed being a father was a possibility for me, let alone being a good father or enjoying my time with my children. Life has taken quite the unexpected turn.”

“Do you think Rings should have children, then?”

“Oh, Gods, no,” Ebert laughed. “Granted, I love my children, but I will admit it’s not an experience everyone needs. You know as well as I that suddenly being responsible for a living, breathing life you created is terrifying and not something every person wants to or is capable of handling. Rings is right to think that she wouldn’t raise the kid. She can’t deal with that level of responsibility. Her freedom and autonomy is too important to her, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I agree,” Spring said. “It’s one of the reasons I accepted you invitation to come on this journey. I thought of anyone, you would understand her best and not attempt to sway her opinions or plans for the future. You get her. I appreciate that, as her sister. Not many people do. I’d say even Reverence doesn’t understand Rings as well as you, for all they’ve known each other longer. It’s simply a fundamental difference in their personality.”

“You mean Rings hating kids and Reverence having so many?”

“Not just that,” She mused. “Reverence is the priestess of the goddess of love and fertility. Rings is fine with the first part, not so much the second. Though Rings loves Reverence, their difference in philosophies will always be at odds with each other. That’s why I think you’re good for them. You get them in different ways, and you can mediate if they ever argue.”

“Have they ever argued?” Ebert asked, surprised. “I’ve never witnessed it. Which is strange, because Rings loves to argue.

Spring snickered. “Typically, Rings respects Reverence enough to keep her criticisms to herself, but they had a brief falling out a few years back. Reverence was pregnant, again, and Rings got tired of it.”

“But Reverence never keeps the children, except for mine, and those were special circumstances.”

“Rings didn’t care; she felt like Reverence saw herself as nothing more than a brood mare and had no self-respect. Reverence, on the other hand, feels like making children is her sacred duty, and thus felt as though Rings was insulting her calling in life, and Fysy by extension. The parted ways for almost two months.”

“Oh, gods, it must have been serious,” Ebert said, surprised. “What happened?”

“Rings and I had a discussion about why I decided to keep Candle, even though he was conceived in the throes of an unplanned, unprepared-for heat with a deadbeat, what being a mother means to me specifically, if I wanted more children, that sort of thing. I think it helped her understand Reverence a little better. It’s the one and only time I ever heard of Rings apologizing.”

“I’m glad they made up,” Ebert replied. “I don’t know what my life would be like without both of them, and it’s not a thought I want to entertain.”

Spring smiled fondly. “Me, neither. Reverence is like a sister to me, as well. She gave me and my family a home and helped us start a new life. I owe her a lot.”

“As do I,”  Ebert said softly with a sigh, reaching for a spoon to eat the stew right from the pot. “Let’s eat and go to bed, I’m exhausted. I want to get out of here as early as possible.”

Now that they had what they needed, the trip home took much less time, and they arrived back within the town proper in five days. He stopped by Reverence’s house, only to find that Bigby was keeping the children, with all of them on the floor passing a leather ball to each other in turn. Tiny little Evo was sandwiched between Bigby’s legs to keep them upright, squealing delightedly when the ball came close only to kick it out of their reach. Buttons sat in the very center, swatting lazily at the ball as it rolled past her.

Ebert realized from Reverence’s absence that she must be keeping Rings company. Spring collected Candle and excused herself, inviting Ebert and the women over for dinner once Rings was back to her old self.

Ebert went out to the cabin that was well away from most of the town, one of the reasons he liked it so much, and heard moaning issuing from inside. Ah. He’d guessed correctly. He reached up and knocked.

“Fuck off!” Rings cried out.

“It’s me! I’m back!”

“I don’t care! Fuck off!”

“I have a key, you know!”Ebert shouted. “I can let myself in at any time, I was just being considerate!”

“Then let yourself in, the fuck if I care!”

Ebert rolled his eyes and sighed. “I can’t work with the two of you going at it. I’ll start the medicine at home. I’ll be at the house when you’re done.”

“Whatever, go away!”

Snorting derisively, Ebert set back off for home.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[whatudottu]

Because I've held this off for too long, once again it seems that @nukeli has beaten me to the punch with colour schemes. Damn my procrastination or whatever, but I only just realised that I didn't put any mention of the 'fodder' classes (Vehicons, Insecticons and I suppose Autotroopers since I'm including them) and wanted to put down my thoughts before writing this up.

An added bonus here is that certain character have different alts (based on character changes and even the heavier focus of 'robots in disguise' that these Decepticons are after) so it's not just me ranting about colour schemes.

Yes, this was why I was complaining about the wiki altmodes, so deal with the vehicles I found instead. May or may not be due to me using images as references haha.

The Autobots (you are here)

The Decepticons Part 1

The Decepticons Part 2

Going in order of my notes, we begin with Cliffjumper. He’s obviously a 1970 Dodge Challenger and what colours I’ve given him are on the image below. Nothing much to say about a definitely dead character other than I didn’t just wanna make him blue.

Next on the list is good old Doctor Ratchet. I’ve had it in my mind ever since Nuke’s one post that SG!Ratchet was like Medic from TF2, so I guess I took it and ran.

To play an opposite to regular Ratchet, he comes across as affable and friendly but is really just doing the things he loves to people he hates. Autobots, Decepticons, hates everyone. He despises Optimus Prime too, but he can’t do anything unless he wants to be cooped up in his berthroom reattaching his limbs for it. Believe him, he tried.

As for altmode and colours, I spent way too long finding that he resembles a Mercedes Benz G-Class ambulance that I was ticked to find out he wasn’t at all. I special looked for the green coloured ambulance because Synth-En, duh!

Breaking in after the Doctor comes our local wrecker Bulkhead. I don’t have much of a read on this guy, other than the fact that I thought it’d be a cool idea for him to lose a lot of his memories after ‘TMI’, ya know, from the Synth-En recipe? Certainly not set in stone, but it could very well contribute to my accidental theme of memory (which only has some small links in the posts I actually created).

With the help of my car enthused cousin I have given our not so loveable mech a Terradyne Gurkha, a little more military than the wiki’s off-roader Lamborghini that I’m too annoyed to bother to look at. I thought that the military origins and the black colour scheme sorta allude to something something mindless military man. yada yada.

Following him is our ever wonderful Optimus Prime, or maybe Lord Prime? Haven’t thought too much about that. What I have thought of is this master manipulator who mayhaps also be a little bit delusional idk we’ll decide in the car.

I always loved the idea of a smiling SG!Prime, as if there’s still hints of this benevolent leader that the original has, but it’s warped and meant to add fodder to the war, encouraging mechs to fight to their deaths all in the name of not only the Autobots, but their Prime. Also as a warped version of the original, I wanted Shattered Glass Optimus to be deluded in the fact that Megatron will change, change at least, to submit to the real leader. Ain’t happening. That’s sorta there with Ratchet too, but well, you read Ratchet’s piece didn’t you?

SG!Prime is consistently purple and black, and whilst I have found a Peterbilt Semi Truck with that wonderful colour, it comes with white instead. Think about it, this typically evil colour paired with often innocent white, that’s like perfect for what I’m going for.

Fitting that he’s next, it’s time for Prime’s Second In Command Ultra Magnus. I’ve... really got nothing for him. Maybe he’s still by-the-books but like he finds loopholes just to commit atrocities? I don’t know.

I’ve given this boy a Mack Trident alt instead of Prime’s Peterbilt, just for differences sake.

After Magnus, we got our little bug Bumblebee... or is it. Because I wanted to change his colours a bit without going into Beast Hunter territory, I wondered if bees come in different colours and, low and behold, they do!

As for the boy himself, I think he was one of the bots manipulated by Prime himself to join the cause and, given his almost rewritten personality, has only lived through to this point in the war by sheer luck. This mech is an absolute menace, feral and powered by the need for Prime’s approval, tearing others with denta and servo more often than with stingers and blasters.

Now you’ve noticed I haven’t been using his name? That’s because he’s now Blue Band (I just realised he’s still bb haha)! He gets his name from the Blue Banded bee, and I found a Chevrolet Camaro to match.

In line with BB’s younger status, feast your eyes on Shattered Glass Smokescreen! Oh boy isn’t he a delight. His hero worship has essentially turned him to a prime (pardon the pun) candidate for Optimus to form into his perfect super soldier, who already would die for this deranged mech even before laying optics on this grand Prime.

So, he’s an absolute suck up, a straight up spoiled brat that has it harder than Blue Band for Prime’s acknowledgement, and is actively showing off and bragging that he’s Optimus’ favourite (he’s not, he just encourages it because that’s the easiest way to get Smokey to do what he wants).

Almost to reflect that (perhaps another pun) I found this gaudy Chameleon Chevy Corvette that absolutely SCREAMS show off.

Regrettably partnered up with him after the passing of Cliffjumper, Arcee has run out of patience. Not everything she does is motivated by Airachnid (what kind of character would that be? not a fun one) but she does often enjoy killing those connected with her. After Tailgate, she’s gotten a little mad, but her effectiveness otherwise increased so others never bothered to ‘fix’ her.

Having lost both of her partners, when she absolutely hates another (read; Airachnid and Starscream because he still kills Cliff) the best kind of revenge is putting her opponents in her own pedes. Oh, that mech’s growing attached to one of his comrades? Slice and dice them before their optics. Oh, that femme is finally coming out of her shell and making friends? Gore out their spark and hope that humans don’t decide this would be the perfect time to practice what they preach and save the life of that same mech with a hard to perform surgery that may or may not have been lost to time.

Okay so she’s obviously a Kawasaki Ninja (haha that’s kind of fitting) and I was tempted to make her pink like other Arcee iterations, but look at this fancy stuff right here. He hoo glowy look pretty!

Almost in leu of an Airachnid archetype, Wheeljack comes in. Though still quite the wrecker and ever the bomb enthusiast, instead of actively celebrating his impacts and going solo to stop the rust settling in, he’d rather be offed whilst mechs are distracted by his pretty explosion and lay forgotten in the dirt.

I may have accidentally rooted the unintentional memory theme deeply with the wreckers (Breakdown included) and maybe just took it and ran, giving everyone else a little connection, but Wheeljack is probably the most explicit in this idea. He hates nicknames (which i super Ratchet uses to mock him here in Shattered Glass) because that’s like... naming something you’re going to keep to quote that specific fic which, honestly, I can’t remember. Wheeljack split from others to stop them from remembering him and put himself closer to a situation where he can die alone, as morbid as that sounds. No grand death, no stupid death and no straight up suicide (generally that’s a VERY impactful kind of death) so just a mediocre end is what he’s been looking for for a little bit too long.

As for his colours, I apparently have no taste and should not have a car because I really like what this image has going for it. This C3 Corvette is probably one of the few cars that fits the straight up box of a sports car that Jackie’s got, so I’m sticking to it, so no, don’t show me the wiki I’m ignoring it this was too painful to give up dang it!

Okay, finishing off the bots, I have the Autotroopers. Sure, I’m not using a reference of a car to show off the colours, mainly because there’s also going to be flier troopers too, maybe... surely... definitely. Most depictions of them are white, you know, goodie goodie, and I’m tempted to just laze around and do just that. Instead, I think a goldish colour would be fun.

Aside from sharing a key colour with Ultra Magnus, essentially a war lawyer, which is perfect for subjects made to obey, a nice glimmering finish almost feels like they’re all manipulated by Prime to believe in the Autobot cause. I suppose the special devision, if there is one, would be a nice Prime purple, sorta like if it’s Optimus’ personal guard if he actually had any belief they would do their jobs.

Oh boy this is so long...

[anna-justice]

Ghosts - Upstead

Summary: When Hailey gets a surprise visit from a ghost of her past, Jay is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, swearing…

Requested: Yes! #57, “Stop pretending you’re okay.” & #58, “You’re safe, I’m here.”

…

Hailey grabbed a pen out of the cup on Jay’s desk before sitting down at her own. He started to say something, but she threw a smirk over her shoulder and Jay decided he was perfectly content with watching her walk away. He tried to focus on the report he was writing, but his eyes kept betraying him and finding the blonde working across the way. He glanced up every few seconds, watching intently as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before aggressively marking something on the paper in front of her.

Jay shifted nervously and Hailey looked up, giving him a face before going back to work. He felt his cheeks heat up, he had been caught. He busied himself again, only to be distracted by a groan coming from Hailey’s desk. Jay looked up like before, witnessing her run her hands through her hair aggressively. Jay jumped up, moving to lean against the side of her desk. “It’s a slow day, wanna go get coffee?”

Hailey looked up, her eyes brightening at his words before she nodded vigorously. “Please?”

“Let’s go.” Jay said, grabbing his jacket and his keys. Hailey couldn’t hide the smile on her face, she was ready to get away and coffee with Jay sounded like the perfect outing.

The two of them bounded down the stairs, Hailey keeping her eyes on him as he rambled out something stupid that Adam had done, causing her to laugh. “Upton.” Platt called from the desk, Hailey’s head snapped up to look at her.

Her and Jay both stopped in their tracks to listen to their desk sergeant. “What’s up sarge?”

Trudy nodded towards the front of the room, “Someone’s here for you.”

Hailey nodded, turning to scan the room. Her entire body froze when her eyes landed on a man she hadn’t seen in years. Her father.

She felt her heart rate speed up, her chest rising and falling quickly. She was stuck in place, her gaze fixed on him. She felt heat behind her, snapping her out of her haze. “Hailey?” Jay asked from behind her.

Hailey looked up at him and then back to her father, who had noticed her presence. She tried to speak but nothing came out, she was utterly shocked and at a loss. Her father stood and Hailey scanned his body, her eyes widening when she saw his swollen knuckles. He took a step forward, causing her to take a subconscious step back into Jay’s chest.

“Hailey.” He said, taking another step towards her. Hailey had nowhere else to go, she was already pressed up against Jay who was abnormally silent. She fisted the bottom of his jacket in her hand, desperate to hold onto to anything.

“Hailey?” She heard in a low voice, a familiar one. She felt Jay’s breath against her neck, confirming that she hadn’t imagined him whispering in her ear.

Her dad made his way to her quicker than before, and Hailey’s breath caught in her throat. “It’s great to see you sweetheart.” He said and Hailey felt her eyes sting. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she was running out of the district.

She hated feeling this way. Weak. It wasn’t her and it hadn’t been for a long time. She ran until she reached the truck, leaning against the side of it. Her eyes stung with potential tears and she fought to control them. She refused to let her father have this much power over her, but the last thing she had expected to see was him.

Jay watched Hailey run out of the district and finally put the pieces together. He glared at the man in front of him, who was watching the door with a shocked expression on his face. The way Jay saw it, he had two choices: comfort Hailey or clock her father. Fortunately for him, Hailey would win every time.

Jay stared him down as he booked it out of the building, going to search for his partner. His heart ached for her, he had never seen her so terrified before. He rounded the corner and saw Hailey bent over the front of his truck. He took off running, slowing down before he reached her so he didn’t scare her.

“Hailey?” He asked quietly, edging closer. Hailey’s head snapped up, his green eyes meeting her red and puffy ones. He sighed taking a cautious step forward. Hailey snifiled, her bottom lip quivering again and Jay took it as an invitation to wrap his arms around her.

Hailey relaxed into his embrace, fisting his jacket once again. She cried for quite some time, pushing away the thoughts threatening to consume her.

Jay rested his chin on Hailey’s head, hugging her tighter. He was happy to know that she trusted him enough to let him in and show him this side of her, but he hated that this was something she was dealing with in the first place. Not only that, but after weeks of moving in the right direction, he hated that their first hug was because she was hurting. He wanted it to be joyful, maybe even celebratory, not painful.

Hailey trembled in his arms and Jay felt his heart clench in his chest. He brought a hand to the back of her hair and combed his fingers through her hair. “You’re safe, I’m here.” He said softly, only loud enough for her to hear.

Hailey nearly choked on her own spit at his words, partly because they were true. She felt safer, happier even, in his arms. Hailey internally groaned, her father ruined everything. Including her first truly intimate moment with Jay. She hated herself and how vulnerable she felt, and she also hated how it took her seeing her dad again for her to open up to Jay. It wasn’t fair to him, it was his job to be her rock.

Jay wanted to scream when Hailey pulled away, he wasn’t ready to let go yet. She wiped under her eyes and smiled softly. “I’m okay.” She said and Jay eyed her. “Let’s go.” She said and pulled open the passenger door.

He stood there and watched her, he knew she wasn’t “okay,”but he knew better than to push Hailey. They were a solid team and he had no doubt that she would talk to him eventually, but he wasn’t sure if he could wait that long.

Jay climbed to his side, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. He drove towards Hailey’s favorite coffee shop, even though it was a little out of the way. They ordered and waited in silence and by the time they left, Jay was getting restless.

“Stop pretending you’re okay.” He blurted at a red light.

Hailey looked down at her hands, “I’m fine.” She said quietly.

“You’re not and you don’t have to be.” Jay said honestly.

Hailey sighed, she wanted to talk to him but she couldn’t bear to fall apart again, not in front of him. “I don’t know how to be around him.” She admitted, “I’m a cop Jay, a detective and I think I’m a pretty damn good one. I carry a gun, I take down terrible people every day and I can’t bear to be in the same room as him. How pathetic is that?” She rushed out, feeling the tears gather again.

“Hailey,” He said, smiling at her. “That might be the least pathetic thing ever.” He sighed out.

Hailey rolled her eyes, avoiding his gaze.

“You are a damn good detective, better than I will ever be.” He said, “Hailey I am amazed by you every day, having a hard one or a difficult or damaging past does not make you pathetic. It makes you strong, or at least I hope it does because if not I must be the most pathetic man on earth.”

Hailey smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up a bit. She had never been good at taking compliments and there was something about Jay Halstead singing her praises that made her stomach due summersaults. “Thank you.”

Jay shrugged, “It’s the truth.” Hailey laughed and Jay raised his eyebrows. “I’m serious, you make me look like shit sometimes. I think Voight wishes he could trade me in for a second Hailey.” Hailey blushed and Jay smirked. He liked having such an effect on her.

They eventually found themselves back at the district and Hailey was thankful that Jay made her forget about her dad for a little while. The two of them spent a few minutes outside, preparing and planning for their escape back to the bullpen, but when they entered the Upton patriarch was nowhere to be found. Instead, Platt held up a piece of paper and motioned for Hailey to come to her.

Platt handed her the sheet with no further explanation and Hailey read it as Jay looked over her shoulder.

Hailey, Your mother and I miss you very much. We wish we got to see you more often. I want to fix things and explain, please call me. All my love, Dad

Hailey took a deep breath and looked to Jay, who nodded slowly. She took the paper between her fingers and ripped it in half, throwing it into the trashcan next to the desk.

The two partners made their way back to their floor, Jay wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. She was going to be okay, and as long as she was by his side, so would he.

[storiesforallfandoms]

cuffed, literally ~ yungblud

part one

word count: 1897

request?: yes!

@lipstickystick​ “Hey! I love your writing and i thought of  an imagine request. I'm curious if you could write something like a follow-up of "not a rebound" where yn and dom are still only learning about each other and getting close and at one party colson handcuffs them together (as a drunken prank) and loses key. So they both had to spend the whole day together”

description: in which colson decides to take matters into his own hands yet again when it comes to dom and y/n

pairing: yungblud x female!reader

warnings: swearing mainly

masterlist

After months of knowing each other, Dom and (Y/N) still had yet to start a relationship. They had spent lots of time together, although they claimed these were not dates. They insisted they still needed time to get to know one another before starting a relationship. Excuse after excuse after excuse.

After finishing his album, Colson decided to throw a party at his house to celebrate. Of course, he invited Dom and (Y/N) to go. He was shocked, and slightly pissed off, however, to find them standing on opposite sides of the room.

“Dude, what are you doing here and not over there with her?” he asked Dom.

Dom shrugged. “I don’t want to be that guy that crowds her when she’s trying to have fun at a party.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Colson sighed. “You’re so into her, and she’s into you, why don’t you two just make it official and call what you’re doing a relationship?”

“I’m not ready for another relationship,” Dom insisted. “Things with Ash are still fresh. I’m not ready to be hurt like that again.”

“(Y/N) is not gonna hurt you like Ash did. She’s a nice girl, when she likes someone she really likes that person. She’d never dump you for someone else like Ash did.”

Dom didn’t answer. He looked over at (Y/N), who was talking with a group of friends. He knew Colson was right, (Y/N) was not Ashley. The likeliness of (Y/N) hurting him the way Ashley had was low, but he still didn’t feel ready for another relationship yet. His heart didn’t feel like it was healed yet.

Colson sighed and downed the last of his beer.

~~~~~~

As the night went on, Dom and (Y/N) finally found their way to each other. They spent a long time just talking, eventually finding themselves sat very close to one another on Colson’s couch.

At one point, a very drunk Colson stumbled up to the two. “Hey you two! Finally together, as it should be.”

“Fuck off Kells,” (Y/N) chuckled, although she partially meant it.

He sat himself down between them, causing slight irritation in both (Y/N) and Dom. “I just think you both need to grow some balls and date cause you’d be very happy together. You both like each other so much.”

(Y/N) looked over at Dom, who awkwardly shuffled and took another sip of his drink. She sighed but tried not to make it obvious how she was feeling. She really wanted to be with Dom, but she also knew he was just out of a long relationship that left him heartbroken. She didn’t want to throw herself at him if he wasn’t ready yet, but at the same time the longer it took for Dom to even mention going out on a date, the more she was starting to think he didn’t want to be with her.

She felt Colson take hold of her hand. She looked down in time to watch him tug her arm towards Dom, taking hold of his, too. She was about to pull away, thinking that drunk Colson was about to force them to hold hands, until she felt the cold metal around her wrist.

“Colson, what the fuck?!” she snapped as Colson laughed and slid out from between them.

“This isn’t funny,” Dom said, trying to pull his hand free from the handcuffs Colson had just placed on the two of them. “Let us out man!”

“I can’t, I don’t have the key,” Colson shrugged.

“What?!” (Y/N) and Dom snapped together.

Colson shrugged as if it were nothing. “I can’t find the key. You’re both just going to have to stay in the cuffs.”

(Y/N)’s face was nearly as red as a tomato with anger. She got up from the couch, pulling Dom with her. She hissed one last profanity at Colson as she walked out the door, Dom in tow. She fished her phone from her pocket and called for a taxi to pick them up.

“I can’t believe he did this,” she huffed. “That fucking dumb fuck.”

“I’d like to try and defend him and say it’s because he’s drunk but knowing Kells he’d do this while he was sober, too,” Dom said.

“At least sober Kells wouldn’t have lost the fucking key,” (Y/N) sighed. “Let’s just go to my place, I might have a way to unlock these.”

Dom agreed, but part of him didn’t want to unlock the cuffs. Maybe it would be a way to get closer to (Y/N) and to finally ask her on a proper date.

The cab ride home was silent. The driver eyed the cuffs but chose not to say anything, which was probably the best idea. Both (Y/N) and Dom muttered a thank you as they paid and got out.

The first thing (Y/N) did when they walked into her apartment was go to her bathroom and find a bobby pin in the cabinet. Dom looked up videos and articles on how to pick locks and (Y/N) tried her best, but it didn’t work. She tried to maneuver one of her keys into the lock enough to open it, but it didn't work either.

Dom was leaning as far away as he could with the cuffs keeping them together as (Y/N) tried to pick a lock with one of her knives. “I feel really uncomfortable with my hand being that close to a sharp object that you’re using while drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” (Y/N) assured him. “Besides, if my hand slips it’ll cut my own arm first, so if I cut you, too, we’ll consider that karma.”

Dom reached for her hand and lowered the knife. “Maybe we should just call it a night. Get some sleep then go back to Kells’ place in the morning and see if he knows where the key is. He’s just being a drunk asshole tonight, he probably has it somewhere.”

(Y/N) sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

To keep things less awkward, the two decided to keep their clothes on. They laid on their backs next to each other on (Y/N)’s bed. They didn’t really know what to do. They couldn’t really move all that much without tugging on each other’s arms.

“Maybe,” Dom spoke suddenly, drawing (Y/N)’s attention, “we’d both be a bit more comfortable if we...got a bit closer?”

(Y/N) felt her heart starting to race. “What...what were you thinking?”

Without saying anything else, Dom took hold of (Y/N) and pulled her close to him. They managed to cuddle together in a way that their arms weren’t all bunched up in an uncomfortable way.

“Is that okay?” Dom asked her. (Y/N) nodded, unable to speak. Her heart was racing so fast she was sure Dom could feel it. She could definitely hear his heartbeat under her ear. “Okay...well...goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” (Y/N) managed.

There was a prolonged silence where both pretended to be asleep. There was so much running through both of their minds that they just couldn’t sleep. Eventually, the tiredness hit them and they both finally drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was the first awake the next morning. She was still cuddled into Dom’s side, neither had really moved at all that night. Not like they could with their hands still cuffed together.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, smelling Dom’s cologne, which was still lingering somehow. She knew she’d have to wait for Dom to wake up, but she wasn’t exactly complaining about that. She’d love to just lie around with him all day, preferably without the cuffs though.

As if on cue, Dom started to stir. (Y/N) tried to hide her disappointment when he opened his eyes and stretched out the uncuffed arm.

“Good morning.”

His accent is so fucking cute. “Good morning, Dom.”

He picked up his phone to check the time. “It’s still early. Kells probably isn’t up yet. Probably far from it. Want breakfast?”

“Might as well,” she responded.

The first little bit of trying to cook with their hands cuffed together was very rough. They tugged at each other and knocked stuff off the counter, but they laughed the whole time. At one point Dom even purposely knocked something over so it would spill on (Y/N), causing her to throw eggshells back at him.

Eating was a lot more awkward. As they both ate with their free hands, their cuffed ones were so close. Dom felt his hand literally twitch with the desire to hold (Y/N)’s hand. (Y/N) kept looking at his, willing it to move first so she wouldn’t feel so awkward about making the first move. But it didn’t, so they stayed still.

After a few hours, they decided it was time to confront Colson. They called another taxi to take them back to Colson’s house. The ride was quiet again. (Y/N) found herself dreading being uncuffed from Dom. These past 12 hours she had been the closest to Dom she had ever been since meeting him. She wished this wouldn’t be the end of their time together.

Knowing he was probably still passed out, (Y/N) pounded on the door and rang the doorbell multiple times. Finally, a shirtless and very disheveled Colson answered the door, glaring daggers at his two friends.

“Can you two keep it down? I’m fucking hungover,” he groaned.

“Awe, poor Colson,” (Y/N) said. She grabbed his head and yelled in his ear, “Get these fucking cuffs off fuckwad!”

Colson shoved her back, rubbing his head in pain. “Jesus Christ, (Y/N)! What the fuck are you talking about? What cuffs?”

(Y/N) and Dom held up their arms to show him the cuffs he  had put on the night before. Colson looked between them before laughing. “Wait, I actually did that? I was so drunk I thought I dreamed it. You couldn’t get it off?”

“If we could we wouldn’t be cuffed anymore,” Dom pointed out.

“Okay, smart ass,” Colson said. “Come in, I’ll grab the key.”

I knew he had it, (Y/N) thought, but decided not to say aloud.

The two sat back down on the same couch where this whole thing happened the night before. It felt like just minutes ago it happened, not hours. Neither (Y/N) nor Dom could believe it was that long ago, and now it was almost over.

As they waited for Colson to get the key, Dom looked at (Y/N). “I didn’t...hate this whole thing.”

(Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes, shocked by what he said. “Really?”

“Well...yeah. I would’ve rathered be uncuffed, but I liked spending the night together. And making breakfast this morning, I liked that a lot.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I liked it all, too. Maybe we can do it again, but with the cuffs off.”

Dom smile, too. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Took you two long enough,” Colson commented as he walked back in with the key. Once they were uncuffed, Dom and (Y/N) looked at each other with mischievous smiles before grabbing Colson and cuffing him to his coffee table. They laughed as he begged them to uncuff him, hiding the key and walking away.

[mmmleckerlecker]

Please do go off about why you chose certain chapter titles

I wanna know it all 👀

Well. I mean. *cracks knuckles* If you insist....

(putting in a read more tho cause I just break down every chapter title so it gets lengthy)

Some of them are kinda obvious and simple. Like “The Meeting” details Felix and Benji’s first meeting. Duh.

“‘Someone Like You’” is named after a quote in the chapter HOWEVER it IS a quote that comes back once Felix learns about consuming and what Mrs. Marotta truly meant when she said it.

I think “Lion’s Den” was my first ‘clever’ chapter title. There’s not really anything deeper to it than being a reference to the fact that Benji innocently walks into a house filled with preds (the majority of which have consumed fatally)

“The Truth” is simply named for the fact that it’s the chapter where Felix learns the truth about preds and consuming. However, it’s somewhat unintentional (maybe I did it subconsciously), but I think most chapters that start with ‘the’ in the title, are sort of markers for important milestones in the story/character arcs. So, for instance, so far the Big Things to happen have truly been their meeting and learning the truth

“Trust” is also pretty straightforward but I do think it’s the beginning of a sort of reoccurring theme in the story. I also just find the concept of trust fascinating, especially when it’s given to people who naturally don’t seem to deserve it (like Felix)

And then there’s “Crush”!! This chapter was definitely named after the fact that it’s about Camille’s crush on Felix. HOWEVER I liked the sound of it because it was a sort of dark foreshadowing for how their relationship would evolve as time went on.

Was the chapter “Changes” inspired a little bit by the David Bowie song? Maybe so. Do I hear it play in my head every time I read the chapter title? Who is to say? (Same kind of goes for “‘Someone Like You’” where that Adele song plays)

Mmm and “Instinct” was of course named after the fact that this is when Felix’s pred instincts really kick into overdrive and start pushing him down the road to becoming Lux. I know it’s another simple title but I like to think it mirrors “Trust” in a way. Not only are they single word titles, but they’re both reoccurring themes in the story. They’re also both sort of the defining factor in Felix and Benji’s relationship. Does Benji have enough trust in Felix that he’s safe? Are Felix’s instincts powerful enough to jeopardize that safety? Only time will tell...

Okay now listen. Imma be honest. The line, “For Benji,” was NOT originally in this chapter. I was trying to come up with a title and I was like “doesn’t Felix think that to himself at some point?” Turns out ahh nope he didn’t. But no worries. I can do what I want. I simply slipped it in there and now it’s the chapter title. I really only wanted this title For The Drama.

Oof the title for “A Single Condition” was a little difficult to come up with. It’s just that SO MUCH happens in this chapter. It’s the longest chapter in the story so far.* But ultimately the line about Prey Man having a single condition really stood out to me as it’s basically the driving force for the next few chapters so that’s how I got that chapter title. (*Now when I say it’s the longest in the story, I mean it’s the longest POSTED chapter. There’s been more than one chapter I’ve had to split into two when posting cause they’re just too damn long.)

Now “The Scorpion” is one I’m super proud of. I uh dunno how many people got the reference but it’s to the Fable called “The Scorpion and the Frog” where a scorpion asks for a ride across the river on the back of the frog. The frog refuses at first, saying the scorpion will surely sting and kill him while he swims. The scorpion reassures the frog, saying that if he dies, the scorpion will also die by drowning as he cannot swim. The frog agrees to help.... and the scorpion stings him. As they both die, the frog asks why the scorpion did it, and the scorpion responds that it’s simply in his nature. The Scorpion, in this case, is Felix who betrays Benji simply by giving in to his nature. (Note that I don’t really agree with the message behind the fable, but ya know... The Symbolism.)

And then obviously “The Frog” is a reference to Benji who also makes the mistake of trusting his natural enemy and paying for it dearly. (Fun fact but these two chapters where originally one that I split into two to keep the lengths reasonable. And BOY WAS IT A GOOD DECISION. That one week between releases where everyone was LOSING it because they didn’t know whether Felix would let Benji out or not.... was a Good Week)

I think “A New Perspective” was a pretty straightforward title decision. As low key as the chapter itself. I do find it interesting tho that both chapters that start with “A” in the title have to do with Benji getting his world rocked upon learning how other prey view preds

YASSS and then there’s “Lux.” I like this chapter title purely because I don’t think people realized the significance of it when I first posted it. Like it really was like “oh Felix has a cute nickname. That’s fun!” And then several chapters later it’s just “oh okay so Lux really is this whole different side to him huh?” Like this chapter is the absolute true beginning to Lux. Love it.

And for “Lilian” this was a chapter title meant to mirror the previous one. They’re the only two chapters named after a character, they’re back to back, and they both start with an L (although that wasn’t intentional, it just sorta happened lol). This chapter was also originally combined into one chapter with the previous chapter, but again, I broke them up to save on length.

“The Alliance” was simply named for the Pred-Prey Alliance in the chapter, also the driving force for the main conflict (but also note that it’s another chapter title that starts with “the”)

AND THEN we have “The Facility,” the title for which is meant to mirror the one before it because... this is it. These are the two chapters that cement Camille and Felix going down completely opposite paths with Benji stuck right in the middle.

“Homecoming” I think is... a kind uncreative title. But truly not much happens in the chapter itself except that.... Benji comes home

Now for “A Place to Belong” (note how this is the other chapter title that begins with “A”), I think simply titling it “Epomis” was a huge temptation. It’s The Big Reveal and it would sort of mirror the title for chapter 17 “The Facility.” HOWEVER. I thought naming it that would be too much of a spoiler. Especially if a new reader happened to be skimming through the list of chapters. It would give away the significance too soon. And I hate giving spoilers away more than I liked the drama of the title, so I went with “A Place to Belong” instead.

Okay and I’m very much proud of “Golden Boy” because it’s such a small line in the chapter, and the title itself is vague enough that no one would question it until they had more context. And then you get the context and you REALIZE how significant The Golden Boy really is. (Also maybe a little bit cause Lux’s name means “light” and I just like the image of golden light)

“Busy Work” was another one of those uninspired titles for another one or those lowkey Benji chapters. Hmm maybe they should get a category of their own since they keep happening. Anydays. The title mayyy have also been a small reference to the Avatar episode “Bitter Work” in which Toph first (attempts) to teach Aang to earthbend. (Because that show is my favorite ever and I think it inspires my writing a lot in general.)

“The Mission” title is also quite obvious but notice how it’s another “The” title! This is the chapter that marks the beginning of Benji’s path back to Felix/Lux. I’d say that’s pretty important.

Mmmm I love the title for “‘To Live and Give.’” When I first wrote that line a few chapters earlier I was evil smiling to myself about how I was planning to bring it back with a MUCH darker twist. I love it.

“‘All Mouths That Surround You’” aka one of my fave chapters. The perfect intro for the new Lux. This is a reference, of course, to the alt-J song “Every Other Freckle,” which I’ve associated with Lux from the beginning. Now. I realize that some (most) lyric sites list that line as “all baths that surround you.” I think out of context, that line sounds strange, but there IS another line that’s clearly “all showers that shower you” so I guess that would make more sense to include baths as well. But is that as sexy as “mouths”? Absolutely not. So we improvise, overcome, adapt. Moving right along.

“The Reunion,” which I sorta mentioned earlier, is meant to mirror the very first chapter, “The Meeting” and I think that’s beautiful. Like I’m all about taking everything that seemed happy and innocent in the beginning of this story and twisting it so it matches the darker tone of the rest.

“Table Talks” is a little bit of a meh title to me but I do find it entertaining that I think table talks are usually.... not as angsty and full of conflict as Benji and Lux’s is.

“Kleptoparasite” is, as mentioned earlier, a reference to Lux stealing Cecil’s prey. It’s the ~scientific~ term for an animal that acquires its prey by stealing it from other predators. I mostly chose it because I wanted something more clever than “Stolen Prey” (and also I like incorporating Real Life stuff into the story. Like how Epomis is a beetle whose larvae practice predator/prey role-reversal in nature).

And finally there’s “Crumple” which is a callback all the way to chapter 6 “Crush.” This time Camille really IS a crumpled mess. The chapter really hits home with how her and Lux’s relationship has changed over the years. And, of course, it’s just me again doing the classic twist of making things in the early years darker to fit the later years.

Okay! That’s everything up to date so far! I hope this is what you meant when you wanted to “know all” 😂

[oftenderweapons]

Stress Reliever  - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 3.9k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello! As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ll be publishing longer scenarios which could actually be considered small one-shots. The first theme will be stress-relieving/angry sex (’cause let’s admit it, that’s one great way to blow off some steam and ease some tension) 

I’ll be following the official order, so I’ll start with Namu uwu. 

I don’t really think I need to say this is smut, and filth and an unedited mess. Let’s just move on to trigger warnings. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing; unprotected sex within an established relationship (wrap it before you tap it, and please get checked for STIs regularly) lingerie kink, DADDY kink (like, how could I not) plus Joon is fucking packed and we all fucking know it, dirty language, allusions to cheating (but like, not really, how could one possibly cheat on daddy big dick Joon? Ha, not me), spanking, ddlg/bdsm dynamics, brat!reader, oral (female receiving, mentions of male receiving), peaches and cream (don’t look at me like that, how could I NOT do this) marking, biting, overstimulation and ruined orgasm (listen, daddy makes the rules, it’s not my fault, next time be less of a brat), cumplay, mild angst (lack of attention, abandonement issues). RIP to y/n’s deceased La Perla set. I suppose this is all? This is quite pwp, but not really. About 3900 words.

Also, here you can find my masterlist. Enjoy!

Your day had been phenomenal, your boss had complimented you and assigned you a new office as you joined your new team. You had celebrated going out for lunch with your new colleagues, getting to understand the dynamics and roles within the groups. Since you were given a free afternoon to receive a general briefing and celebrate your promotion you went off work earlier than usual, deciding to get yourself a nice new dress and some celebratory lingerie, all Italian lace and silken bows.

But your mood was sour. Namjoon didn't even bother reading your text, ignoring you all day, which normally would not bother you, but considering how hard you had been working for that promotion and how tired you were, but most importantly considering he knew how much it mattered to you, it really upset you. And you were meaning to make him pay for it. 

As you arrived at home you started getting ready, you bathed and did a face mask, hair all pretty and soft, fixed your nails. You felt gorgeous. Gorgeous and furious. Which was normally a very entertaining combination when you added Namjoon, who was currently absent without justification. He should have arrived home twenty minutes ago. 

When he finally came through the front door, you were lounging annoyed on the sofa. 

"Hi." 

You did not answer. And he didn't even notice, nor look at you. 

He went straight to the bedroom, got rid of his clothes and wore something comfy, going straight to the kitchen. 

"No dinner?" He asked. 

"I'm going out." He looked up to where you were sitting, a little baffled. 

"And no dinner?" 

"I called at the Garden, booked a table for two at nine. You could get ready in fifteen. It's on me."

His forehead creased. "I'm a bit tired."

You raised a brow. "I'm going out anyway." 

He huffed out. "Okay. Let me wear something decent."

Five minutes later he headed out, in jeans and a white shirt. He looked completely insane, the sleeves slightly rolled up, his hair pushed back. "Am I okay?" 

"You look divine." You were too turned on to deny him a compliment. "I'm sorry I made you dress up. I really wanna destress." 

His half tired look in his eyes had disappeared, probably thank to the brief shower he had taken. "It's good, baby."

You headed to the restaurant, his hand perched on your knee during the drive, his head heavy on your shoulder. He still hadn't mentioned your promotion. 

A nice waiter welcomed the two of you, he must have been new, considering you had never seen him before and you and Joon were pretty much two regulars there. 

He accompanied the two of you to the table, your hand reaching for your man, while he looked absolutely lost, completely disconnected from you. Even at the table you tried to spark a conversation but he was entirely unresponsive, only mentioning that he had been working on his new collaboration and he had been late because he had to meet the singer. The fact that it was a woman low-key triggered you. It's not like you were jealous, or maybe you were, but jealousy was a feeling you had felt before and you had always had the self control not to act upon it. However, mixing that mild jealousy with the disappointment of him not acknowledging your promotion and your special effort for your looks, together with his detached demeanour had you starting something you never thought you would have the guts to do. 

You started being excessively polite -- borderline saccharine -- to the cute waiter, asking for his name and behaving in an almost too friendly way, offering him nice smiles and sugary 'thank you's. 

Not that Namjoon seemed to notice. 

You were getting half an idea to gently grab the waiter's wrist and write your phone number on his forearm just to see what your boyfriend would do. 

By the time you finished your main course and got ready to close your meal with dessert, you were so upset you gave up on your usual tiramisu, telling Geonwu -- the waiter -- to hand you the bill. Namjoon seemed to get out of his bubble for a second, as you turned down the dessert, suddenly triggered by your strange change of habit. He must have really upset you, he thought as you gave the waiter your card and waited for the payment to be processed. 

A few minutes later you entered your apartment, kicking your shoes and heading for the bedroom. You hoped he would trip over your discarded shoes. Damn him. 

In front of the mirror in your ensuite, you started taking off your makeup, slowly undoing your hair. You hated him. 

He reached the bedroom too, standing in the door between your room and the bathroom, looking at you through the mirror. 

"I know what you were trying to do at dinner." He crossed his arms. "I don't like it at all." 

"I wouldn't have done it if you had payed attention to me." You took off your earrings and your watch. The necklace he had given you for your first anniversary. "But you were… Busy."

"So you wanted me to pay attention." He came up behind you, pressing himself against your backside. "Sorry thing I already knew you would land that promotion." He kissed your neck, slowly starting to unbutton the mother pearl buttons on your silk camisole. "So I thought I could keep you on edge and make you snap at me, make you so angry you would finally take all that tension off on me."

You held your breath as he nibbled at your neck. "And I know you were trying to rile me up and make me jealous just to get me to fuck you like crazy, uh?" 

He finished with the buttons and untucked your shirt, discovering the black lace corset underneath. 

"Was this part of the plan, little vixen?" He toyed with the strings of the undergarment, his sex now hard against your back. 

You nodded eagerly. 

"Then bend the fuck over cause Imma teach you a lesson." He lifted up your pencil skirt. "These are new, aren't they?" He said teasing the fabric. 

"Yes, daddy. I bought them for you." You just wanted him to snap, hoping that your submission would spark up his dominance. 

You saw a shiver ran down his spine. "So kind, but you didn't bend over yet. And this won't save you from your punishment." He said, pressing a heavy hand between your wing blades and pushing you down. "You know daddy likes giving you attention, so why didn't you ask?" 

"I didn't want to bother you, daddy." You already felt a whine in your voice, a petulant, bratty tone emerging. 

“I still don't get whether I should treat you like the brat you are or like the good girl you’re desperately trying to be.” Suddenly you felt the heavy smack of him delivering the first hit. You moaned out in relief and arousal. “You better keep quiet. You kept quiet while you should have told me you wanted me, so now that you wanna talk you’d better keep it down, brat.” he delivered another spank, making his point clear. “Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.” You lifted your head, your eyes rolling up from under your lashes.

He licked his lips and used his spare hand to hold your chin up high, so to maintain eye-contact. “Good girl.” He caressed your bum delicately. “Shall we say that you received your promotion at nine a.m., and now it's almost midnight. That makes it fifteen hours of you keeping it from me. Considering that you’re always so eager when I spank you I won’t include the first two blows I already gave you. Now hold tight because dirty girls like you don’t learn their lessons from soft punishments.”

By the thirteenth blow you were gripping the sink, knuckles white, face blushed with effort, a coat of arousal and sweat slickening your thighs. Namjoon’s tempo had slightly slowed down in order to softly brush your sensitive skin between a spank and another. “Come on, two more, ____. Enjoy them.”

He hit you with full force. Considering that you’d got used to the pain, your tolerance adjusting to his attack, he must have really put some fury in the last two. 

Now finally done with your punishment, he moved you slightly to the side, so to use the sink to cool down his palms. “Next time I should use a paddle. No use hurting my hands for punishing a spoiled brat.” Some part of you already felt a dark craving, moaning at the thought. He snickered at how hungry you always were for him.

He passed the cool skin of his hands on your glutes, offering you a small reprieve, taking care of you without giving any explicit sign of your punishment being over. You knew it wasn’t, and it didn’t surprise you when he hooked his fingers in your panties and dragged them down your legs, kneeling to unhook them from your feet. “Those don’t deserve to be ripped.” Now at perfect eye level with your slit, he couldn’t help but give in to the smell and taste of you, licking up your soaked thighs, nuzzling his lips against your sex, delivering one sweet kiss. “Can you take it like a girl good and make daddy happy or do you wanna slow down?”

He probably knew how exhausted your muscles must have been from the position you were into. However, you wanted it your way. “Make daddy happy.” You murmured.

He smiled like a madman, still between your thighs, biting one of the few spots that weren’t bright red on your behind. He raised to his feet, towering over your bent shape, his nimble finger undoing his belt and jeans, gripping his hard on and using the tip to tease your entrance. “Baby, you got me so hard, watching you take your spanks so well, your ass so soft, quivering like jelly. You should see yourself right now, baby. Looking like a wet dream.” 

He caressed down your shoulders, using his free hand to hold your waist. You knew he wouldn’t bend down to kiss you, that would be so out of character. And considering he hadn’t stretched you out, you also knew it would hurt. 

“Ready?”

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.” He offered you his hand in your own and you gripped it hard as he slowly sinked in. It took him half a minute to bottom out. A deep groan followed. “So good, babe.” 

You released a heavy breath, squeezing you inner muscles lightly. “Woah baby, fuck.” He swore viciously, carefully beginning to roll his hips, both his hands on your waist, one of yours joining there, reaching for his fingers, craving for a small sign of affection while he was being careful not to hurt the bruises already forming on you ass. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, looking for the smallest sign of discomfort on your face and posture. Once adjusted, you arched further, allowing him a shift in angle that had him hissing and throwing his head back. His beautiful, dark hair followed, catching your attention in the mirror. His chest, still covered in the shirt, inflated, straining the buttons on his sternum. You would have done anything in that moment to kiss the small triangle of skin appearing at the base of his neck. 

Now newly focused, his eyes opened and fixed on you, while one of his hands moved to your breast, still covered in the corset, toying with your nipple, then gripping the flesh with his big palm.

“Joonie,” you dared murmur as his pace intensified. 

“You good baby?” He slowed down again, in fear he was hurting you. 

“So good, Joonie, I just—” You shut up a second, needing to focus before you continued your sentence. “I wanna cum, daddy.”

“It’s okay baby, let me take you there.” He made you turn your face and caressed your cheek tenderly, using his other hand to reach between your thighs, drawing taunting, tight circles on your clit, with just the right pace and pressure. God only knew how he did that. 

“Keep squeezing me baby, so close.” He gripped the back of your neck for leverage and his thrusts got stronger and faster, you completely losing it over the way his hips stayed closer to yours and pushed harder, pulling out just an inch before plunging in again. 

Your orgasm washed over you with sweet relief and you were sure it would have gone on for a bit less than a minute hadn’t Joon pulled out of you, his hand still toying with your clit, his vicious fingers way too skilled not to know how much he was affecting you -- and how wrong it all felt. “Joon, inside!” You cried out, barely coherent, only now noticing in the reflection that his arm was moving aggressively, his lower lip caught between his teeth before it slipped out, his jaw angrily clenching in a way that made you want to turn around and suck him into oblivion. 

“This ass still needs something.” He spat out through gritted teeth. 

Your mouth opened in wonder as you felt him press his tip to your skin, his hot flesh turning even hotter when he groaned out almost desperately, one hand still on his shaft, milking out his cum. 

“Do you like that, daddy?” You teased, wanting nothing but his fucked out babbling to praise you. 

“Love it, vixen, you nasty little fucker. I’ll put a damn ring on your dirty finger someday.” He muttered, his high almost over, the hand on your mound parting your labia before he slipped in sloppily, some drops of his orgasm ending inside you, while the rest made a sticky mess between the two of you.

He crumbled forward, mouth at your neck, his spine arching up away from you as he kept pushing his hips against yours, chest deflating with heavy breaths. One of your hands removed the fingers still massaging your sex into overstimulation. You were both a sweaty bundle of limbs, exhausted and brainless. 

“I’m so in love with you, ____.” He whispered in your ear. “My perfect baby.” The hand under you slipped to your chest, helping you handle the weight of your upper body. “Can you wait like this a couple seconds? I need to clean you up before we make a mess.”

You nodded sleepily while he stretched towards the closest towel, wetting the cloth under the tap and placing it against your skin as he slipped out. The arm under you helped you rise up, his mouth immediately kissing your cheek. 

“Did I go too hard?” He asked, his free hand touching you in tenderness and devotion, stroking your heated skin. He used a clean corner of the towel to swipe the dirty spots on your behind, then cleaning himself roughly.

“It was amazing.” Your head propped on his shoulder, your neck stressed because of your previous position. 

“Let me take you to the bathtub and ease out the knots on your muscles, yes?” He discarded the cloth and turned you around, kissing you softly and fondly. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you again. “You’re amazing.” He pressed his mouth to your forehead, “and now I wanna take care of you.”

He took off your corset with care, knowing how sensitive you were, but also how tired your body was, incapable of handling any violent push and pull to undo the garment. 

“Tell me you didn’t ruin it.” You said, voice imploring. 

“No. I was careful. I still regret ruining that La Perla I got you for your birthday. The colour looked so good on you.” He blushed, completely oblivious that two minutes ago he had been an unbelievably sexy, self-confident man spanking you and ruining your orgasm without the smallest hesitation. 

“I feel so spoiled, I took a bath this afternoon.” You murmured, thinking of all the wasted water. 

“Would you prefer a shower?” He asked, already closing the tap.

You nodded. Your muscles were sore but your conscience was still awake.

Opening the enormous shower he loved so much, he helped you sit down on the wide seat on the wall, flinching as the cold marble made contact with your bruising skin. 

Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes, feeling sorry for the pain you were feeling because of his selfishness. 

“Can I make it better?” He asked, caressing your face gently before pushing your hair back. His concerned tone made your insides melt. 

“I think that having a proper orgasm with your tongue between my legs would help.”

“You’re a spoiled brat. Never gonna learn.” He tried sounding angry, but the smile on his face told you otherwise. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You opened your legs wide as he kneeled before you. “You mentioned putting a ring on it, Joonie.” You teased, the inside joke between the two of you now sounding way too serious after he said it in that context, with that voice just an orgasm ago. 

“Careful or I’ll wife you.” He kissed your inner thigh, biting playfully. “Fill you up with babies.” He bit the other side. “Have you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

“Please do, kind sir.” You begged, laughter spilling from your mouth.

He positively laughed at that, his fit of giggles tickling your skin. You were overflowing with love for him.

“Sounds shady coming from a lady who was flirting with the waiter at dinner just tonight.” He started sucking at your skin, the tissue bruising easily after his harsh treatment. “Do you think I forgot?”

Here he was again: gone Joonie, welcome daddy. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed sarcastically against your other thigh, now just a couple centimetres away from your heat. “Do you think he could have done you like that?” His hand grasped your breast, squeezing it viciously. “Like I did tonight?”

“No, daddy.” Your mouth opened as he started rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Do you think he could discipline you?” He asked, his voice matching the love bite on the soft skin of your crotch where your thigh met your pelvis. 

“Of course no, daddy.” You repeated, shifting delicately in your seat to accommodate his mouth.

“Good.” He perched your legs on his shoulders, then his tongue licked your labia forcefully, your flesh and his adhering perfectly, the bridge of his nose rubbing your clit deliciously. 

The angle was difficult, and if it hadn’t been for the whole sink ordeal, you would have probably balanced yourself on your arms and used your hips to fuck his face midair, but from the way he was looking at you, you could tell Namjoon knew he couldn’t trust your body like that tonight, the risk of you slipping because of a lousy grip or tired muscles too high. 

Much to your dismay, he parted his mouth from your cunt, meeting your gaze. You loved seeing how blissful he got when he was using his mouth between your legs, his brain too focused to think of anything else. It was his go-to stress reliever.

“Hold tight. Be careful.” He said with intention, as he moved an arm behind your back and brought you closer to his face, making you plant your feet on the ground as he laid down on the empty floor. With some attentive adjustments, following his lead, you ended up straddling his face, his head luckily away from the stream of water falling from the shower head. 

“I need you to ride daddy’s face, little vixen. Show me how much you wanna belong to me.” He teased with a dark growl. 

“That sounds so good daddy!” You squealed enthusiastically. “I’m going to make you so proud.” You promised, smiling at him before his mouth latched on you, his arms snaking around your waist and dragging you down. 

“I’m so happy when you lick me, daddy.” You said, voice mischievous, while he enthusiastically picked up his pace.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” His tongue lashed on your clit mercilessly as he kept pumping your most sensitive part with the muscles of his cheeks, hollowing them with the force of his movement. 

“I’ll learn...” Your breath caught in your lungs. “I’ll be so good to you.” 

His hands helped you balance yourself attentively, chasing your high, until you felt your eyes closing, the room spinning around you and your hips moving on their own command, your climax already possessing you. 

“Daddy, please, that’s...” The breathiest moan exited your mouth, your arms collapsing, Namjoon’s hands on your hips the only thing keeping you from smashing face first against the tiles. He moved his head with wide sweeps upwards, accompanying you through your high. In the meantime you managed to readjust, your weight now again in control, you eased Namjoon’s arms, thinking of how tired he must be. 

You lifted yourself up, sliding away from his face, down to his lap. 

He was incredibly hard, once more, quite unusually. “Please, let me ride you, daddy.” You tried to persuade him. “I’ll do all the work.” You were literally batting your eyelashes at him. 

He laughed breathlessly. “How can I tell you no, baby, when you sound so nice?”

“Can I?” You pouted. 

“Yes, baby.” He groaned.

You were on him in two seconds, grabbing him, squeezing him gently in your palm -- at which he shut his eyes tight -- and holding his tip towards your entrance, sliding on it flawlessly. 

“You feel amazing, ____.” He breathed from his spot on the floor, still in the same position as you’d left him after your mind-blowing climax.

You moaned out at the sound of your name, going already pretty fast to make sure that you both came as soon as possible. Namjoon’s hands led your vicious pace while your hand, already toying with your core, made sure that you could come to the edge of your third high within a few minutes. “Joonie, tell me you’re close.”

“Keep going, baby, almost there. Use your-- oh that!” His mouth opened, eyes scrunched. “There!” 

You smirked naughtily as you worked him with your kegels, hips gyrating on him.

“Joonie, help.” You called out, noticing that his arms were going slack. 

Exhaustion was getting to the both of you, but as he pushed up, chasing his sensations, you felt the change of angle and in a couple seconds you felt his hot cum fill your every crevice, your own orgasm mixing with his as your upper body collapsed, mouth searching for his neck. “Joonie.”

“Here.” His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your legs started shaking and giving out. “I’ve got you, ____ baby.”

Your nose brushing against the side of his jaw, teeth scraping gently against the vein on his neck, you let your body be lulled by his breathing. 

“Love, let’s finish this shower and head to bed, yes?” He caressed your hair back, lovingly.

You have little memory of what happened afterwards, except his weight beside you on the mattress, the lights switching off his heartbeat calling you to sleep.

[leavetwn]

* AMANDA CAMPANA, NOBINARY + SHE/HER/THEY/THEM  | you know RAMONA GALLO, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, TWENTY-THREE YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to CRYING ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR BY MUNA like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole COLD PIZZA AS A HANGOVER CURE, TALKING SHIT ABOUT CUSTOMERS IN THE BREAKROOM, LONGING FOR WHAT COULD'VE BEEN,  thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 17TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( claire, 22, est, she/her )

HEY , BESTIES ! happy new year (the way it’s 11:55pm here so barely) !! my name’s claire and i’m 22. i’m livin in the est timezone, and my pronouns are she/her. i’m bringing y’all a mess of a muse 😈 because well  ,,, it’s what i’m best at. if you’re feelin ramona & wanna plot, just go ahead and like this & i’ll hit you up. i usually plot on discord, but if you prefer the tumblr ims, that’s no problem at all. anyway, lemme stop waistin time and get to introducing you to ramona. * tw: mentions of cheating & alcohol. 

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

full name: ramona gallo.  nickname(s): anything your muse wants to call her tbh. age: twenty-three. date of birth: august 17th. zodiac sign: leo. gender/pronouns: non-binary, she/her/they/them. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic. hometown: irving, north carolina. current residence: irving, north carolina. occupation: employee at zoinkies currently,  a lifeguard during the summer. eye color: brown. hair color/style: had long hair up until her breakup then had one of those breakdowns and cut her own hair into a bob and then her own bangs. i bet it was a mess lol so she probably called her friends or went to a salon the very next day to get it fixed. also highlighted the ends red but her natural color is brown. height : 5′5″. clothing style: simple and comfortable. t-shirts, croptops, turtlenecks, all usually paired with either jean shorts or jeans in general. she prefers to feel cozy rather than cute. tattoos: yes. a small one on her wrist. wants more eventually. piercings: both ears peirced & a navel piercing that she did herself against better judgement lol.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 .

you were born on a scorching hot day in irving , your father says so, anyway. you’re convinced he’s being dramatic. your birth went smoothly; after two previous children, your parents had become disillusioned by childbirth. just another one to add to the bunch, and one that was meant to save a dying marriage. still, they loved you nonetheless. your father, to this day. your mother, until you were ten, and then she up and left without a warning. 

your father keeps food on the table by fixing cars. you spend your days in the hot sun watching him replace parts and continuously try to crank vehicles until they run. he fist pumps every time one does. ‘ how lame, ’ you think, but it’s inspiring how hard he works to take care of three kids. and he does a good job. 

therefore , you spend much of your early life trying to make him proud. you’re smart as a whip, and all your teachers have good things to say about you when it comes to academics. you’re a bit of a troublemaker, though. your father doesn’t mind that too much; he was the same at your age. and he’s proud  —  proud to see you work so hard. 

you spend your teenage years doing much of the same. though , you begin to come home a bit later than usual, and your excuse is that you’ve been at ashley’s or samantha’s, but really all three of you were out partying. you don’t think your father would care (your grades are fine & he wants you to live like a normal teenager) ,  but you still lie about it. why ? well, who knows, maybe you like the adrenaline rush it gives you. like most things, you do them for the thrill. 

you join the swim team. you’re kind of bad , but that’s okay. just like always , you work hard, and you realize that you’re kind of a natural. your father cheers louder than anyone else in the stands. it pushes you to do better. with your good grades and athletics , your guidance counselor tells you you’re a shoo in for a scholarship from whatever university you want. you apply to several. if it’s one thing you hate, its this town. you can’t wait to make it out, and you figure, this might be your only way. 

you’re eighteen, and you’re in love. it’s crazy how love can make you see things differently. suddenly , this town doesn’t seem half bad. all your friends find it cute , and you tell them everything. the things he tells you or the way he makes you feel. it’s a crazy feeling; you never want it to end. 

you throw your cap in the air. finally , high school is over. college is looming. you’ve been accepted to several & received scholarships from at least a few. you lie in bed thinking about it. now, you suddenly don’t want to leave so bad. don’t want to leave him behind. how could someone leave another they love so easily? it makes you hate your mother more.

for the first time, you disappoint your father. you don’t go to college. you don’t give a damn. you want to stay where love is. you’re addicted to the feeling. this lasts for three years. now, you’re twenty-one; you’ve gotten a job at zoinkies, and that keeps you away for most of the day. you randomly decide to visit your boyfriend during a lunch break one day. you find him in bed with someone else. suddenly , you realize love isn’t as addicting as you once thought. what once made the world beautiful now made it hideous. what once made you feel so high had somehow made you feel so low. it was horrible, and you’d realized your mistakes. 

you threw away your future for love. something as rotten and twisted as love. something you swore you’d never let yourself feel again. something that you put away in a locked box with no key. irving was the same place you’d always known it to be. boring, drab, familiar. at least you had your family. that was barely enough to keep you sane, though, and it was hard to feel normal.

you turned to the thing that help. alcohol, partying, any escape at all. you lacked coping skills   —  that much was clear, but you didn’t care. you blamed it on something else entirely. just as your teachers had said, you’re a bit of a troublemaker. you do anything to make yourself feel alive, to make yourself feel free of the hurt. 

it’s two years later now. you’re still not over it in some ways, as regret turns to anger and resentment. you’re bitter. who wouldn’t be? but you feel like you’ve had time to mourn. maybe it’s because you never acknowledged it in the way you should’ve ( it’s still locked away in that box. ) you still have your bad habits. you still work at your stupid job that you hate. you’re lost, but you’ll figure it out. you always do. so, you continue to float , seemingly stuck in the town that you never let go of, and you wonder what comes next. only time will tell.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 .

still swims but doesn’t have as much time for it. probably not as good, but since she spends the summer lifeguarding, she uses that time to practice & try to get back to where she was. also kinda jaded asf so even if she says she wants to get back into it, she probably won’t lmaoo.

is a horrible driver. how did she get a license ?? not even she knows. def the type to like have a leg up on the dash board, hand out the window, and only one hand on the wheel while speedin idk how she makes it out alive

can take a car apart and put it back together again thanks to her dad. also changes her own tires so let her change your tires. im just sayin 

stays up way too late & would sleep until 2 pm everyday if she didn’t have to work. should probably work on being an adult and going to bed at a normal time but just half the time doesn’t give a fuck so she’s probably sleep deprived a lot. therefore also has a 

character parallels: alice ayres/jane jones (closer, 2004) , clementine (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 2004) , fiona gallagher (shameless, 2011-present) , more to be added.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

ok but plots really do be making my world go ‘round. 😳 i love em, so literally hmu with anything you’re feeling, and i’ll be down. just wanna plot & write with everyone 💕 but here’s a couple of wanted connections for y’all. i’ll prolly have a most wanted tag sooner or later & i’ma be make a plot page soon.  

* the unholy trinity  — these two are the friends she cherishes most. i’m assuming they’ve been friends since at least early high school , maybe earlier. they went through a lot together. these two were with her through all her relationship troubles. true ride or dies. she’s do absolutely anything for them, and she trusts that they feel the same way. they’re rowdy & wild, do whatever they want, and have a damn good time doin it. also have a gc where they just talk shit and send tiktoks idk just gimme this plsss 🥺

* friends with benefits / one night stands  —  this would probably be the extent of ramona. clearly not over what happened to her the last time 😭, so she’d have plenty of these tbh. she probably wouldn’t think too much about it, but it could be awkward for you muse maybe, etc. 

* unrequited love / crush  —  here’s a toast to the ones who crush on ramona. it would be an absolute tragedy lmaoo. she’s not really mean about it, but she is 100% certain she’s not looking for any type of relationship. could be really dramatic and messy and those are tha best kind. literally this

* former friends / enemies  —  she’s lived here her whole life, so she’s at least got one. these two just don’t get along/no longer get along for whatever reason that can be plotted out. 

* coworkers   — she works zoinkies throughout the year and picks up shifts as a lifeguard during the summer so your muses could know her from that. could delve into a close friend territory too lmao. they probably just sit in break rooms and talk about rude customers or bossy managers lmaooo.

* literally anything your heart desires — a lot could work. we could even just start from nowhere & have them meet for the first time if they’re newer/just to town. 

[sierraraeck]

Return to Normalcy (Pt.2)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Returning to normal has never been so hard. Just as Aundreya is starting to make amends and fit back in with the group, something gets in the way. Story twenty-two.

Category: Angsty-fluff

Warnings: Cussing. CM talk. Mentions of death and suicide as a COD. Break-ins.

Word Count: 3.9k

I stormed into my apartment and slammed the door shut. I ripped off my jacket and tossed it aside along with my bag. Then I just screamed. I screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could and then I just stood there.

There came a knock on my door and I assumed it was my neighbor Billy, some poor old lady that had the misfortune of living next to me. And not to call her a grump, but for real, she could be a pain in my ass. Especially after I’d just fought off three people during the night, and then had to deal with her glaring at me in the morning asking me to please (and I quote) ‘pull myself together or throw my childish temper tantrums somewhere else.’

I whipped open the door and yelled, “Billy, I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood right now for your-” I stopped mid sentence, mouth hanging open when I saw who it really was. “Aaron, I’m sorry, I just-”

His eyes went wide and he offered a small smirk, “Who’s Billy?”

“Someone you’re probably glad you aren’t,” I replied. “Come in.”

Once he did, I wanted to just up and shoot myself. Way to lie to your boss about what was going on, and then just invite him inside to the only place that could prove you were lying.

He turned to face me and I sighed, shaking my head. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He gave me a pointed look, “I’m okay, thank you.”

I tried to make light of the situation, “Well, make yourself at home, if you can find a place to do that.”

My apartment really was a disaster. The couch was the only semi-clean spot considering Spencer and I had slept on it the night before, but other than that, you had to step over and around broken wood and glass to get to where you wanted to go. I’d already learned to ignore it.

“Was that true?” Hotch asked, out of the blue.

“Was what true?”

“What you said back at the office, about the snipers?”

“Yep,” I said, popping the p. “Who did you think shot Penelope?”

“We weren’t sure,” he admitted, “We suspected one of your people, but Deen assured us that was not the case. We were then so busy getting her to the hospital and finding you that we didn’t revisit it. Dave and I talked about it, but neither could really remember everything that led up to that moment.”

“That’s understandable. I’m sure it was a lot. I mean, it was a lot for me to watch,” I confessed.

“So you were also watching us,” he stated more than asked.

“I was,” I confirmed, “I had three different angles showing different people and groups at different times.”

“How come you’ve never told us this?” he asked. His face somehow always seemed neutral, yet inviting.

It was a valid question. They couldn’t exactly do a write up of the case considering they weren’t even supposed to be on it, and on top of that worked with a group of known criminals without going through all that government red-tape bullshit, so I never talked about it. Not like anyone asked. “Wasn’t important at the time. You got me out, I got you out, end of story.”

“Clearly that’s not true,” Aaron stated, glancing around the room. I shrugged. “What is really going on?”

“If I tell you I think I fixed the problem once and for all, would you let it go?” I asked. He tensed his jaw and narrowed his eyes at me, so I relented. “People were breaking in.”

“Were?”

“That’s my hope, anyway. I think I solved the problem,” I said.

He skeptically looked at me. “The problem?”

“Yeah. The problem,” I repeated, trying not to open myself up too much for profiling. I didn’t want him finding out about Archer just so that I could lose any bit of credibility I had left with him.

“Did the problem have a name?” Aaron asked, “Maybe Howard Archer?”

Fuck. “Coincidence. Plus, I was with the girls all night at a concert.”

“And every minute can be accounted for?” he asked.

“Yes,” I confidently answered, “There was a short 20 minute period where I ran home to grab my jacket, but I’m sure you can see me on the security cameras.”

I kept waiting for him to respond, but he just kept looking at me. Scanning my facial features, body language that was changing, and things that weren’t changing. We just stood there in absolute silence, staring at each other. Is he gonna say something? Does he know? I’m sure he knows, but is he gonna turn me in? Should I say something?

Then Hotch saved me from my thoughts by moving to sit on the couch. He tilted his head which was my cue to go and sit next to him.

“You actually seemed to be doing pretty well,” he started. “You were readjusting.”

“‘Were’ being the key word,” I pointed out.

“They’ll come around.”

I scoffed in his face, “If I had a dollar for everytime someone has said that to me, I would be able to buy the BAU.”

“I’m sure, but every time it’s true,” he stated.

“How can it be?” I asked, getting slightly irritated, “If every time something goes wrong they turn on me, then I have to justify it, and then they have to ‘come around’ at what point is that not working anymore? At what point do they stop ‘coming around’ and start walking on eggshells, waiting for me to mess up?”

He expertly dodged my question, “Who says we’re waiting for you to mess us?”

“Your behavior!” I exclaimed. “If you aren’t waiting for me to screw up, then how come whenever anything goes wrong, I’m immediately the target?”

“But shouldn’t you be the target?” he calmly asked.

“Probably!” I was now shouting, “That’s the most irritating part! Is that most of the time, they’re right. I am causing problems and we have to trust each other with our lives which we clearly can’t do so I get their hesitation, but it’s not me all of the time. Like those videos, I had no choice, and while I get it, they don’t have any reason to hear me out, it still hurts knowing they actually believe I’d say those things and mean them.”

“So all of the stuff you said, every word, was a lie?”

“Correct.”

I saw the corners of his lips tilt up just slightly, “Even when you called me an emotionless robot who couldn’t care less about his team?”

“Oh no,” I teased, “that was definitely true. I’ve been looking for your charging port since I met you.”

He offered a small laugh and raised his eyebrows, “You will never find it.” It lightened the mood for a moment, but once it passed, I was back deep into my thoughts. Aaron could tell, though, always so perceptive. “If it makes you feel any better, Reid is apparently doing one hell of a job standing up for you.”

“Huh?” I gave him a confused look. “How do you know that?”

“Dave is with them right now,” Hotch held up his phone quickly, “You know, Reid has been a big proponent of yours throughout all of this, even when you were on the run after the hospital.”

“Has he?” I incredulously questioned, “He seems okay with me now, but back then? I thought he hated me, you know, shoving me up against a wall and all, asking me why I was helping.” Hotch opened his mouth but I stepped in, mocking, “Oh wait, let me guess. ‘He came around.’”

“You know what, he actually did,” Hotch answered me, more seriously than I had been. “Even when he acted like he was mad, and I’m sure he was, he seemed more hurt than anything. I know the two of you had something going on, but I didn’t realize how serious it was until you were gone.” I leaned forward, inviting him to continue. “I don’t know if you know this, I’m not actually sure Reid fully knows this, but he cares about you, a lot. More than either of you care to admit. I know you feel the same.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Maeve does as well,” I reminded him.

“That’s an excuse.”

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t prepared for how harshly he was calling me out.

“You know it is. I’ve never seen you back down from any challenge, yet, the moment there’s even the possibility of someone else being in Reid’s life, you just, give up?” I stared at him, jaw on the floor. “Why is that?”

I knew why. I’m sure he knew why. I’m not good enough. I’ll corrupt him. I’ll poison him. He already went to prison because of me, I don’t want to be the one to completely hurt and destroy him. But I didn’t want to confess that, so I went for, “I just don’t think he’s as interested in me as you think he is. Plus, Maeve is good for him.”

“So that’s the reason?” Hotch asked, addressing my added reason. “You don’t think you are good for him?”

“And you do?” I fired back, astonished. “Look at me! Look at what I’ve gotten him into! Prison, drugs, watching me murder people in front of him, nearly getting him shot by a sniper, the nightmares he’s having from all of the trauma I’ve put him through, not to mention everything I’m sure I’m continuing to put him through!”

Hotch grabbed me by the shoulders, and until that moment, I hadn’t realized I was shaking. “Aundreya!” I partially snapped out of it, and looked him in the eyes. “You did all of that for him.”

“Sure, but if I was normal-”

“You think Reid’s normal?” Hotch kept his voice raised, “Neither of you have been normal for your entire lives.”

“Exactly! So maybe he needs normal for one, maybe he needs something low stress, low pressure, and low risk like Maeve.”

“No,” he insisted, voice strong, “He needs someone who is willing to fight for him as hard as he's willing to fight for you. I’ve seen the way he fights for you, Aundreya, and while he was working hard to find Maeve, it wasn’t anywhere near the amount of effort he put into finding you. He was broken up when he thought something happened to Maeve, but he didn’t even allow himself the time to think about that when it came to you. He was so laser focused on putting the pieces together, that he wasn’t sleeping. He was barely eating. Maeve had to come to us because it got to the point where she was genuinely concerned for his health, and I made him take a forced vacation and ordered him not to think about you. In that moment, you know who he reminded me of? You.”

My mouth was dry, and my brain was still processing everything he was telling me. All I could manage was a small, “What?”

“When he got incarcerated, you had your own evidence board in your apartment, you spent every free moment thinking about him and trying to figure out who was really behind this. You didn’t sleep, and you didn’t eat. Finally, you just went into the prison to get him out yourself, and then you actually solved his case, putting yourself in the line of fire just so that he wouldn’t be. Sure, you didn’t come to us about what you’d figured out, but you were still trying to protect him, and all of us. You took matters into your own hands, and Reid was damn near close to doing the same thing.”

I struggled to find any words that could possibly respond to learning something like that. “I-I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. You were busy doing whatever it was you were doing, but you never asked. You never even looked into it. Because you run from your problems,” he stated, his voice back to one of calm neutrality. “Stop torturing yourself. Stop running.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

After Hotch left, I had a lot going through my mind. I just sat on my couch, staring out at nothing, thinking about everything he had told me.

Spencer was working that hard to find me? After everything I’ve put him through, he still cares about me? He’s been standing up for me? Okay, and what the fuck did he mean that Spencer was about to take things into his own hands? How could he have-

My thoughts were cut short by the vibrating of my phone on the small coffee table. I reached for it and saw Spencer’s name at the top. Speak of the devil. “Hello?”

“Hey, Aundreya, how are you doing?” his voice sounded a little horse and definitely groggy.

“About average. Just waiting to see if anyone decides that the night is ripe for apartment raiding. How about you?”

“You shouldn’t joke about that. You could get seriously hurt,” Spencer sounded concerned, and a bit frustrated.

“If I don’t joke about it, I’ll never survive it,” I replied. “But don’t worry about me, I know how to fend them off in my non existent sleep by now, and you never answered my question. How are you?”

“I am worried about you.” I could practically hear his small pout through the phone, “That’s why I was going to invite you over.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to do that,” I assured.

“I kind of feel like I do. I don’t want you constantly having to fight those people alone,” his voice was like velvet, spreading from the phone all the way through my body.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be alone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, once they break in, I won’t be alone anymore,” I smirked.

“You’re terrible,” he feigned annoyance, but I could tell he was cracking a smile.

“But you already knew that,” I shot back.

“I did,” he sighed, “I’m serious, though. Please, come over. If not, I will drive to your apartment and wait with you.”

“No, definitely not,” I quickly responded.

“Great, so I’ll see you in about 15 minutes?” Genius bastard. Way to play off my fear of you being around when shit goes down.

I rolled my eyes, “Sure.”

When I got to his place, I didn’t even have to knock before the door swung open. He was standing in a pair of blue and black checkered pajama pants, but with his white dress shirt still on. It was unbuttoned slightly at the top, sleeves rolled up, and his tie was nowhere to be found. His hair was a bit of a mess and his feet were completely bare. I swallowed.

“Hi, come it,” he ushered me through the door.

“Hi,” I said, with a small smile on my face.

“What?” he asked, following my eyes as I scanned him up and down.

I shook my head, a cheeky smile on my face, “Just wondering what I’m interrupting.”

He gave me a sarcastic look. “Yeah, I was in the middle of changing.”

“Then by all means,” I gestured in the direction of his bedroom. He nodded, scurrying away from me while I scanned the room. It looked just like it had on that tv screen months ago, probably not a single book out of place. The curtains were open but it was dark outside, only the moonlight shining through. I quickly went over to shut them.

When I turned around, Spencer was now fully changed with an old MIT t-shirt on, watching me curiously. He looked confused and like he was about to ask me something, when I saw the lightbulb go off. “Oh, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-” he started.

“Don’t be,” I cut him off, “You can’t remember everything.”

“I should,” he sounded irritated with himself, “I can’t imagine walking in here and having that be the exact same angle as the one you saw when-”

“Spencer,” I sternly got his attention, “It’s okay. The problem is solved. It’s not that big a deal.”

He sighed and looked down. “It is, though.”

I walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, and it felt like the most natural thing I’d done all day. He raised his eyes to meet mine, and it was like I could see all the images flashing over his pretty eyes. “Don’t think about it. Please, when you look at me, don’t think about the things you saw, the things your mind can’t forget.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered, “I really am.”

“That’s all I ask,” I replied, forcing a smile.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it-”

“I don’t,” I rejected, way too quickly. I could see the small amount of pain in his eyes, “But if I do, I’ll know I can come to you.”

That eased the tension a little, and he turned to walk to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” I said. He returned with two bottles of water anyways and sat down in one of the small kitchen chairs, pushing one toward the opposite end. I sat across from him and took the bottle.

“You know that I was hooked on dilaudid for a while, but I never told you how I got started,” he murmured, fidgeting with the bottle cap.

“Spencer-”

“No, it’s okay. Within my first couple years at the BAU, there was a man named Tobias Hankle. He had multiple personalities, three to be exact, which is very rare. I got split up from JJ when we were searching for him, and he kidnapped me. He tied me to a chair and tortured me for what felt like months. Whenever Tobias’s personality was in control, he would give me dilaudid to help me deal with the pain. After the team came to rescue me, I stayed behind to grab the extra bottles.” At this point, he was tearing up, and his voice was quivering. I couldn’t imagine him having to go through that as a brand new agent barely into his 20s, and there was a pit in my stomach imagining him in almost the same situation I had just been in. “I became my own worst enemy. The drugs were making me angry to the point where I couldn’t even do my job properly, but I felt like I could no longer function without them. Once I ODed for the first time, I decided that it was time for me to get help. I’ve been sober for over six years now.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go through that. I’m impressed with your willpower,” I said, moving my hand to cover his.

“Impressed?”

“Yeah. When most people get hooked on drugs, to the point of ODing, they can’t stop. I’m amazing with your strength to stop and to stay clean all this time. I mean, you have a very stressful job,” I pointed out.

“That’s true, and thank you. I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone, and you can always come to me because I’m the last person who could ever judge you. I’m sure you’re tougher than I was and won’t make the same mistakes, but if you do, please talk to me. I’ll always help you,” he said, looking at me with big, watery eyes.

Without answering him, I stood up and gently pulled on the hand I was already holding toward me. He stood up and I wrapped my arms around him. We comfortably melted into the other’s embrace, entering our own safe bubble filled with warmth and compassion. When I pulled away, I assured, “I’ll always be here to help you, too.”

I tried so hard to keep my emotions at bay, but the way he looked at me pushed me over the edge. Right as the first tear slipped down my cheek, he brought his hand to my face and used his thumb to brush it away. With our arms still around each other, emotions flowing between us, he kissed me. Gently pressing his lips to mine, noses softly rubbing against each other’s, in our own infinite moment. He was so warm and so cozy that I didn’t want him to pull away when he did. I would have rather suffocated.

He scanned my eyes, and started, “I, um, I-I’m so-”

I brought my finger to his lips to stop him. “Shh. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

He was silent for a moment before he nodded, “Okay. Do you want to maybe stay and watch something on the tv with me or…”

“I would, but I think I should get back home,” I said. Hotch’s voice came ringing back into my head. You run from your problems. Stop torturing yourself. Stop running.

But tonight was not that night. “O-oh. Are you sure it’s safe? I wouldn’t want you going home where you still have people breaking in.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I gave him a tight lipped smile. “Besides, I think I solved that problem.” I reluctantly moved myself out of Spencer’s arms and headed toward the door.

“Hey, Aundreya?” he asked, stopping me before I could leave.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to answer, but I wanted to ask. Why was I the only one without a video?”

I knew that question would come up at one point or another, either from him or another teammate. “Because you’re my weakness.”

His face scrunched up in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Which it didn’t, thinking from his perspective. If he was my weakness, wouldn’t DeLeon start there? I explained, “He was saving the best for last. He knew I wouldn’t be able to say those things when it came to you, and if I did, he was going to leave the live feed on to make sure that I ruined our relationship. If I couldn’t say those things, he was going to shoot you and make me watch. I luckily thought of a way out of that situation before it happened.”

“So all that about ‘I’m not capable of loving’..?”

“Probably true,” I confessed with a sad, bitter laugh. “But I don’t want it to be. I’m hoping it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Spencer said, with all the confidence in the world. “You’ve been to hell and back for most everyone you’ve ever worked with and cared about. That says something, and I believe that shows you are capable of love.”

“When I’m around you, I start to believe that’s true.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I returned home, feeling more relaxed than I’d ever had, even confident in my ability to get a good night's sleep without intruders. But when I opened my apartment door, on the scratched up wall opposite me, there were big red letters spelling out three words:

This isn’t over.

I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed Mateo. Before he could even greet me, I rushed, “I was wrong, it wasn’t Archer. It’s been DeLeon this whole time.”

“And you killed Archer!” he screeched, “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I was solving a problem,” I bit back, frustrated.

“The wrong one apparently. DeLeon is going to come for you now that you’ve broken your deal.” The panic in his voice sounded like it almost matched mine.

“I know. But this time, I’ll be ready.”

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