#Also yeah I know that first image is fucking unreadable I just wanted to make it obvious what Im sourcing that from and also

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

I havent read Adrian’s entry in the other Whos Who so I dont know if this changed because this version wasnt written by Paul Kupperberg or Marv Wolfman since neither of them were credited but in the first entry I saw of him Adrian is canonized as having been one of those people who were very left in the 60s (even actually being called a leftist) and then turned into a republican when he got older BECAUSE HE LIKE, GOT REAL, MAN!

This is actually mentioned by Blackthorn in issue 49 but I kind of thought she might be referring to Just him being a Super Nice DA (because that happened a few times in past issues).

(though obviously calling him a bleeding heart makes it obvious what she means)

I really like this for him. Its very fitting for Adrian’s character to have been the kind of person that thinks they grew out of leftism

[sturnioz]

jealous and possessive fratboy!chris after he finds out shy!reader's male friend is back into town?

chris is.... yeah. dipping more into mean chris with this one, especially towards the friend. you've been warned, please do not read if you're uncomfortable.

tw. mentions of drugs [cocaine].

note. also i chose a random guys name for shy!readers friend, so if there is an influencer or anyone you know that shares the same name.. its not them lol.

you haven't stepped foot in the frat house in nearly a week, completely caught up in the excitement of reconnecting with a childhood friend who had come back to your hometown for his break; the two of you spending your days hanging out and catching up on stories — which meant you unintentionally ditched chris.

honestly, chris didn't really notice your absence at first.

he was too preoccupied with his own life — planning for parties, selling his drugs and counting cash, spending time with his frat brothers, and his classes. but as the friday approached, the day the house is filled to the brim with students from the university, the realisation startled settling in.

now, he's sitting on the worn-out couch surrounded by the chaos, staring down at his phone, scrolling through the countless unread texts he'd sent you, each one more frustrated that the last. his eyebrows knit together in irritation, and he presses his tongue against his cheek, waiting for the delivered sign to change to read.

he swipes out of your conversation, rubbing at his jaw in frustration as he opens the instagram app. he goes to search for your account to check if you've posted anything on your story, but instead, he freezes, staring at a collection of recent pictures you just posted.

a scoff escapes he lips as he begins to swipe through each new one, his jaw clenching with every image. there you fucking are, beaming with joy, capturing the moments of you and the stranger beside you visiting cafes, shopping at your favourite stores and taking walks. chris grits his teeth as the last image, the sight of you both in your bedroom, watching childhood movies.

chris feels a bubble of anger rising within him, his leg bouncing restlessly as he fixates on the photo of the guy pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around you shoulder and playfully squeezing your cheeks while grinning widely.

chris' nostrils flare, and he tightens the grip on his phone. in one swift movement, he locks the screen and tosses the device carelessly onto the table, shaking his head in disbelief as he rubs the bridge of his nose. he fishes a baggy of white powder from his pocket, pouring a line onto the coffee table and shaping it up with his credit card.

just as he leans down to lose himself in the haze, his eyes dart up to see you walk in, the guy still by your side, both of you wearing smiles on your faces as if everything is perfectly normal. chris sits up slowly, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within him as he watches you scan around the room, and when your gaze finally lands on him, your face lights up instantly, and you tug on the guy's arm, pulling him over to chris.

he can't help but stare at the way you cling to him, rolling his tongue across is teeth in irritation, his gaze drifting up your arm to your face as you near closer, but that gentle smile of yours only deepens his frustration.

"hi," you greet him with such a soft tone that it makes chris want to scoff, watching as you drop down beside him, pulling the guy down with you. "chris, this is lucas."

chris doesn't even spare a glance at lucas, his attention solely on your as you continue to smile prettily at him. it only tightens his jaw.

"right... the guy you uh, you've been ditchin' me for," he says, his voice laced with sarcasm. "s'nice, kid."

you, still buzzing from the day, take his comment as a joke. "we were friends growing up! he came to visit me," you explain, glancing at lucas returning your gaze to chris. "he's only here for a week.. but you should join us—"

chris cuts you off with a scoff, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. "yeah... 'cos i'd love to be the third fuckin' wheel in your cute lil' reunion, kid. don't piss me off."

you look momentarily taken aback by his attitude and tone, and your smile falters in in an instant. even lucas looks taken aback by the shift in his tone, but chris couldn't care less about lucas' feelings; his focus remains locked on you.

"hey, man.." lucas attempts to speak up, clearly trying to defuse the tension, but chris waves him off dismissively.

"don't uh, don't wanna hear you — at all, actually. yeah. couldn't give a fuck about you." chris murmurs as he leans down towards the coffee table, plugging one nostril and inhaling a line of coke, grunting as he slumps back into the cushions, running his fingers through his curls.

chris' head rolls to the side, finally glancing past you to lock eyes with lucas. he notices the uneasy look on his face shift into something more confrontational, a flicker of anger sparking in his eyes. a grin slowly spreads across chris' lips, adrenaline surging through him.

"what? why y'lookin' at me like that?" chris presses. "you... y'mad at me or somethin'?"

"chris." you warn softly, pushing gently at his arm. you can feel the tension thickening in the air, and you don't want him to start something could spiral out of control, something that might lead to someone getting hurt — to lucas getting hurt.

but chris leans forward, looming over you to get closer to lucas, a glint in his eyes. "c'mon.. if y'got somethin' to say to me, say it."

you feel a knot tightening in your stomach, anxiety creeping in as you shake his arm more insistently. "chris, please," you plead, your voice urgent. "just let it go. it.. it's not worth it, please."

chris' eyes flick to you, noticing the worried look on your face and he huffs, before pulling away to slump back into his spot, sniffing and rubbing his nose.

he feels your arm loop around his, and he turns his head slightly to see you rest you chin on his shoulder, a small gesture meaning to ground him. and for a fleeting moment, chris considers yanking his arm out of your grip, the urge to push you away battling against the subtle comfort your touch brings him.

but then his gaze drifts back to lucas, who is watching you both, and chris' expression shifts once more, sliding his hand down between your thighs, gripping possessively and holding on tight.

[selchwife]

maerchen route pt 2 cause i hit the image limit let's go (again)

i actually think the good ending of this route is kind of boring. why are we throwing a ball? why is he not goth anymore? who knows. Well actually i guess he's still a little goth it's fine

i am going back to show you the bad ending and elise and also the inexplicable elisabeth ntr ending.

anyway, a lot of the dialogue is identical no matter what you say, but at the point where you have the option to say you shouldn't have come, maer says this

i don't remember this part very well, but i'm picking the first option bc i feel like sassing him a bit. sorry baby

jesus this fucking font is unreadable.

i do like the sort of "what do you want for breakfast" "[maer voice] a bagel" "[elise voice] THE SOULS OF THE INNOCENT" "[maer voice] TWO bagels" thing going on here it's kind of unintentionally funny. in canon they enable the shit out of each other but it's not ooc for maer to be like "no i think that's taking it a little far elise sheesh" either

anyway i think the second one is the one where you can kick elise, but i don't want to do that bc i love my horrible little daughter

the scare quotes around happy ending....is he operating a shady massage parlor out here in the woods?

anyway i'm picking "this is too complicated"

i think the first option is what gets you killed. here's hoping

YESSSS

the pull one i think might be where you can get at elise but i want to get MURDERED IN THE WOODS BY A SEXY GHOST so that's what we're doing.

this bit goes really quick but there's also a closeup of his face and a little subtitle that says "time for REVENGE...hn hn hn." i couldn't screenshot it because it was way too fast and tbh i don't want to go back just to try to get it. i'm fairly convinced there's ANOTHER bad end where he kills you in a different, sexier way, bc that's the one i remember so vividly, so i'll try to get that one too. in the interest of completionism i will now show you what happens if you grab elise

:(

I WOULD NEVER CALL HIM PITIFUL. HOW DARE YOU.

#yandereimagines #aesthetic #darkselfship

yeah this is the bad ending i remember getting. i think that's pretty much all there is to the route; there's some other dialogue choices you can make but i think they all lead to the endings i've shown you.

except the elisabeth one actually. sigh.

GOTY

maerchen route pt 1 let's go

this is going to be a long post bc i dont want to spam your dash. so buckle up

we start with our beloved mc princess of the horizon getting lost in the woods. natch.

oh shit who could this be

the thing about maer's route in this game is that he's pulling an emet-selch on you the whole time and thinks you're elisabeth. and you have to deal with that.

this was before the ACTUAL ALBUM CAME OUT!!!!! so the artist had no way of knowing he was totally amnesiac and didn't actually recall who elisabeth was, NOR that the other main conceit of the route (that you're Her Descendant (spoiler alert)) would never work bc elisabeth never got married (and nein reveals that even if she had she's infertile), but it's kind of funny anyway. like what compelled her to do it like this knowing full well the album would come out in like december of that year. like idoido came out in june or july

anyway i don't remember what the correct dialogue options are. this route was always a major pain in the ass compared to the others, like, it's MUCH harder and you do get stuck in circular arguments with maer not infrequently if you're not careful. i'm going to tell him i'm definitely not elisabeth though let's see where that gets me

ok

i love this dialogue option bc how do you say o.O out loud. im going to do that to him.

i think the first dialogue option is the one that pisses him off? i don't remember, but the reason this route is "dangerous" is because if you say the wrong shit and make him too mad he just arbitrarily kills you. or i guess possesses you? i would click it but i kind of don't want to get the bad ending bc this one is sooooo long and if you fuck up you have to start from the beginning

i hate that im still sitting here like heehee maer cute <3 also i never paid attention to it the first go round but i like the design of his dialogue boxes a lot

im in the danger zone now bc i vaguely remember one of these lines making him frantic but i'm not sure which one.....augh. i'm picking the second one

DON'T MAKE ANGRY EYEBROWS AT ME!!! BABE!!!!!!

i would never say no to banging a ghost.

WHY IS HE BLUSHING I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING BLUSHWORTHY....

even with not screenshotting it every 2 seconds getting thanatos' good ending was way faster than this. god. anyway there's obviously only one good option here. i think maybe im instinctually remembering how to do this route correctly.

it's ok baby i'm here to make something so lgbt happen to you

i'm picking the third option, but i think the first works too? i don't remember. i haven't even scratched the surface of this one if you piss him off enough elise shows up. why this route is far and away the longest i have no idea. maybe that was for me. maybe it was doen for me

awww <3

picking the second one bc i feel like i always pick the second one but if it gets me the bad ending i'm going to throw myself off a cliff

tumblrista voice I CAN FIX HIM. (except he's right.)

OBVIOUSLY i'm picking the second one, but the first one is also a real ending you can get. why you have the option to get cucked in this route i'll never know.

well. i say i'm picking the second one, but i clicked on it like 12 times and it didn't work, so i think i have no choice

she shows up in her own ending and also in the protag/maer ending dont worry. i can still turn this around THIS IS HOW MC/MAER CAN STILL WIN

im obviously not getting passed up in my own romance fantasy.

I DID IT IN ONE TRY #MLG

oh i hit image limit. fuck. hold on.

[spidernerdsblog]

Hey there! This request is based on the photo u reblogged for MMIH maybe one of Tom's enemies came to their house or office and trying to threaten him and our guy is with complete swag, thn his kids come running to him and he sends them back and is like "so where were we?" Sry if this is too specific 😅😅

This pic screams MMIH Tom. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Match made in Hell (series)

He rules the city

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings : none

The atmosphere in the room is tense as Tom sits on his expensive leather chair with a glass of whiskey in hand, the Rolex on his wrist glinting in the soft yellow light of the room. The very image of him reeks of triumph and power. In front of him sat one of his old enemies turned allies from his initial days in the mob, Arnold Mathews. Harrison is also present in the room sitting on the nearby couch keeping a watchful eye on Arnold and his men.

“This isn’t a fight or debate,” Tom told Arnold curtly, bringing the glass of whiskey to his lips. To be honest Tom is the one who is doing a favor here by hearing him out on the first place even though he has no desire to do so. He let go everything of his past life to start afresh and he has zero interest to fuck this up by digging up some old graves for the sake of old alliances. No way he is going to allow them to use him as a pawn in their fight with the Gambino's. The stakes would be a lot more higher this time with you and the kids and he isn’t going to risk it at all.

“We had a deal and it will benefit both of us, Tom,” he reminds him as Tom puts down the glass on the table smacking his lips while Arnold continues “you don’t have to do anything but give me that part of your territory,” Tom leans on the table with both his elbows, his expression unreadable as he stared at him coldly making him lower his voice “only for a little while, just so we can strike first. You’re closer to the Gambino's. You don’t want your men to be involved in this, so what other choice do I have than to do it myself?” he squeaks out the last sentence intimated with the intense gaze Tom was looking at him.

“And how are you going to do that?” after a brief silence Tom asks.

“Your men are positioned between Bath and Bristol, give me that area so that I can take his men down” Arnold starts to speak terms “we’ll take them all down at the same time and any man who stands against us will be killed. It’s simple either join us or die like the rest of them”

“I’ve heard this all before,” Tom mutters. Tom had to grow up witnessing the whole rivalry with the Gambino's even though his dad ultimately won but a lot of lives were lost all in the name of greed for more power and territory.

“Just give me access to that area and the suppliers for the guns” he sounds desperate as he adds, “that’s what you agreed to before you left everything!”

Tom starts to get slightly irritated not liking the commanding tone of his voice as he starts to weigh the options of killing each and every one of his men in the room. It wouldn’t take much time moreover Harrison is here with him and he knows he could hold his own.

“You want me to back down, clear the path for your men?” he asks him.

“They’ll never see it coming if we take them from both your side and mine. We attack them on the border of your territory—” before he could finish Tom cuts him off.

��Yeah and then he’ll think it’s me who is behind all of this. When he gets the news of his men dying around the borders of my territory, he’ll come after me without a second thought!” he slams his hand on the table agitatedly “this isn’t me starting a war, it’s you!” he lashes out and just then the door busts open as everything falls silent.

“Daddy!” the room is filled with squeals and laughter as Nate and Leah come running into the office. Tom’s angry demeanor softens immediately and he turns his chair allowing both of them to climb up on his lap.

“Hello my loves, how was your day at school?” he asks with a wide smile.

“Good!” they answer together excitedly.

“That’s nice but where is your mum?”

“Mom is in the garage,” Nate replied. Well that explains their unannounced entry because you would never allow them anywhere near this room. You must have been busy parking the car when these two saw the chance and slipped out. Tom notices Nate and Leah looking at Arnold and his men with a frown on their faces. You both had decided to keep them away from all of this as much as possible though sooner or later they will come to know but for now it’s better this way.

“Well you see dad is a little busy with work right now so I’ll carry you back to your rooms and you wait for your mum ok?” he proposes.

“Ok daddy” they both nod. Tom stands up holding them in his arms and as he walks out of the room he is met with you at the staircase.

“There you are” you heaved out a sigh of relief “didn’t I tell you guys to wait for me? And—” you paused peering inside the room to see Arnold and his men “oh I’m so sorry I forgot you had a meeting. See this why I tell you not to come into this room without my permission”

“It's okay, darling. Nothing is more important to me than my little angels” he kisses them on the top of their foreheads “now go to your mum and as soon as I’m done with work we’ll build the new lego set I bought you” he promises as you take them from his arms and carry them to your room.

Tom goes back to his office, shutting the door behind him he asks “so where were we?”

“Tom, you really need to help us out” Arnold tells him with all sincerity.

“No I can’t and now you may leave” he says sternly “Harrison show them the way out”

“No, wait!” Arnold bangs his hands on the wooden table “what if... ” he swallows thickly as he stands up and clears his throat before looking Tom in the eye “once I take over the Gambino’s territory, we could split it.” Tom perks up at the proposal as he gives a small head tilt signaling him to continue “I want to start flooding the product in the market nearby the port area to keep the cops off our backs”

“I don’t see anything relevant in splitting the bloody damn thing” Tom let's out a humorless laugh.

“I only need his business, that's all. I don’t even have enough men to keep a check on the rest of his territory,” he says in a comical tone as if the problem’s already been solved.

“I’m sorry but I’m not interested in expanding anymore territory,” Tom states firmly, crushing away the last bit of hope Arnold had, “but I’d be happy to take a percentage of the profits” he adds “twenty percent of every quarter”

“Deal” Arnold agrees to it instantly, a small smile appears at the corner of Tom’s lips. To this day Tom always has his way in the end even Arnold’s own men stare at him in astonishment. They also know this whole deal is stupid and only Tom would end up profiting because an even-numbered war never ends well. They’ll need extra men to fight the Gambino’s but Tom will give him none. He only wishes they kill each other off like this he will hit two birds with one stone.

“Deal,” Tom says with a tight lipped smile as he outstretches his hand for a handshake.

Meanwhile you were in your room sitting in the middle of the bed with Nate and Leah sitting on either side of you.

“Mommy, who were the scary people?” Leah asks innocently, gripping on the sleeve of your blouse.

“Yes mommy I did not like them too” Nate tells you.

“Oh don’t worry my pumpkins they are no one, just some people daddy used to work with before” you say with a light shrug “you don’t need to be scared of anyone or anything ok? Mom and dad will always protect you from everything” they nod as you pull them closer to your chest caressing the back of their heads as a line of worry creases on your forehead. When Tom decided to leave the underworld you both knew it wouldn't be an easy job severing all the ties. There will always be someone popping up from time to time with some unfinished business. And now that the kids are growing up they also have started noticing things and asking questions out of curiosity. You don’t want the shadows of those horrible days to even touch them but the question is for how long? How long will you be able to protect them from his past, from your past?

..................................................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 9): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: nothing is the way it was before. there is no future; there is no past. all there is... is nothing. 

wc: 2.1k

tw: light gore

masterlist

“She’s not gonna eat; I already told you that.” 

The sounds of Kaori and Toji fighting just outside of your door leak into your room, but you’re beyond caring. Megumi sits beside you in the sun-lit room, eyes scanning the outdoors, looking for any sign of an animal. You’re tucked underneath a warm, thick blanket, despite the temperature outside being warm enough to cause a little sweat. No, things were better this way. 

When you had come to after blacking out, Toji, Kaori, and Megumi were hovering over you, trying to figure out what to do about the General’s untimely passing. But in the two months since, no one had quite figured out how to bring you back to life. The only thing they could do is watch you slowly waste away and become a shell of your former self. 

Your parents suspect it’s because your princely husband had not sent for you since the war had ended, and you’re grieving a supposed loss. But neither Kaori nor Toji had the heart to admit that this loss wasn’t supposed. It was real. 

Your days are spent in your bed or in the garden behind the house, mind empty as Megumi attempts to watch over you and possibly even cheer you up by play-fighting with his father. But more often than not, you’re reduced to tears, and Toji fetches Kaori because he “can’t deal with crying women”. 

“My lady?” The head maid enters into your room with an orange and onigiri in her hands. “I brought you some fresh fruit from the market. Hamai sends her regards as well.” Hamai - Yuta’s sister and wife of Yuko - had also attempted to visit you, but her grief motivated her to knock on your door, and you couldn’t bear to think of Yuta or Nanami or--

“Thank you,” you croak, and she nods, handing Megumi the two onigiri. 

“Your father said you’d better eat these or he’ll never--”

“‘Feed me again’. I know,” Megumi chants monotonously and takes the rice balls from her hands. “Thank you, Kaori-san.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want any visitors?” Kaori asks for the third time. You cut your eyes to her, attempting a glare. “Hamai would love to come and--” 

“Listen, the lady said no visitors,” Toji gripes, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ve been fighting off a ton of measly looking men who have nothing to say except ‘I’ve come to see Lady y/n’ and honestly, if you invite another person to this damn place, I’ll kill them on the spot.”

You roll away from the two people and look out of the window, remaining silent as Megumi eats his onigiri and stares at the bears and tigers in his book. Kaori and Toji retreat, restarting their squabble as soon as the door closes, leaving you to think about nothing and no one. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re in the garden when Megumi runs up to you, holding a light pashmina to cover your shoulders in the chill of fall. 

“Careful, you might get sick,” he warns, and you accept the article with a smile. 

“Thank you, sweet one.” The child climbs onto the bench you’re seated on, swinging his legs while you stare at the shishi-odoshi in silence. You’re suddenly reminded of the three other sweet children you left back at the camp, and before you can begin to sob out loud, your hand flies to your mouth. 

“Hey,” Toji appears from the house, hands deep in his pockets as he surveys the area. “You alright?” 

“Just fine,” you whisper, pushing back tears and grief all at once. “I just needed some peace and quiet.” 

“Yeah, gardens will give you that.” Toji stands beside the fountain and stares into the water for a moment before turning to Megumi. “There’s a frog out by the lake if you’re interested in--” Megumi hops down from the bench and disappears around the corner in a flash, abandoning you without a worry in the world. You sigh, watching him fade into the distance, and then turn to Toji, who is already staring at you with some unreadable expression. 

“What is it?” you grumble, blinking slowly. 

“Nothing, just…” Toji presses his lips together and looks sky-ward, thinking about his next words carefully. “I know you feel like everyone in the whole world can fuck off since Geto died… but have you ever considered moving on?” You tilt your head to the side, wondering if Toji really ever listened to himself talk. “I mean, yeah this shit is painful, but…” Toji rubs his neck and looks away from you and back to the fountain. “You have to move on at some point.” 

“He told me to wait for him,” you explain, wrapping the pashmina a little tighter and squinting at the shapes in the pool. “I’m going to do just that.”

“Y/n, he’s dead… what good will waiting do? Will you wait your whole life?” 

Your head snaps to Toji and you curl your lip up in disgust. 

“You’ve never loved anyone in this world but yourself and your money,” you spit, standing from your seated position so fast that Toji takes a half-step back. “I don’t imagine that you’d know what I’m talking about.” 

“That’s not true,” he retorts, frowning. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’d hate to see you waste away over a man who can’t even survi--” The pashmina falls from your shoulders as your hand makes contact with his face, the echo of the slap scaring a flock of birds from the surrounding trees into the sky. 

“Speak ill of Geto again, and I’ll make sure those words are your last.” Toji doesn’t touch his bruised cheek as you stomp off, watching you retreat back into the house as he realizes that he let you slap him. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Screams haunt your sleep, fire burns the camp, and you’re running away, holding hands with the children as you dash into the forest. Geto is behind you, fighting off some unknown assailant, but you instinctively know how the dream is going to end.

You trip and fall over a root of a tree, but you yell at the children to escape. They continue running, not sparing you a second glance, but you turn around just as Geto is stabbed through the chest by a spear and falls with his back to the ground.  His head tilts back and he makes eye contact with you, blood pouring out of his mouth as he chokes:

“Wait for me.”

You shoot up in the bed and stumble out of your room through the sliding door that leads to the garden, sweat pouring down your neck and back as you sink to your knees. Your stomach heaves once, twice, depositing yellow bile into the bushes beside the house. The sun is barely up, and as you dry heave, you hear another door sliding open, Toji then Kaori tumbling out of your back door. 

“Poison,” Toji grunts, but Kaori pushes him aside before he can get to you. 

“No, she didn’t even eat anything before bed,” she states, rubbing your back with her cool hands. Your skin clams up as a breeze rolls across the garden, and you shudder violently before your teeth begin to chatter. “Toji, a blanket.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” he gripes, but walks into the house to grab a blanket anyways. When the cloth resta against your back, you feel a little better, but the feeling in your stomach won’t go away. 

“My Lady… talk to me. What’s the matter?” 

“Go,” you shake Kaori off, not wanting to repeat the events of your dream. 

“It’s probably because she didn’t eat,” Toji groans, the stairs squeaking under his weight. “I’ll get her a --” 

“Both of you. Go.” You look up at Toji, mustering your sternest look, and aiming the same expression at Kaori, who walks away from you, head hung low. 

You stay in the garden as true morning crests over the sky, lying on the bench under the bare cherry blossom tree while the skies turn into pinks and yellows, and reds. The image of Geto’s bloodied face wouldn’t depart from your memory and you feel the ache even deeper than before. The ache intensifies until it feels like all of you is just one large hole, throbbing with need and grief.

Nothing could save you. 

No one was coming back for you. 

They were all dead, and there was nothing left of the people you had grown to love and care for. 

It isn’t until your mother walks into the garden that you realize you might have missed your breakfast of an orange and water, but she comes bearing the fruit and you’re set back at ease. You wordlessly allow your mother to sit beside you, lifting your head so it rests in her lap snugly. She pats your hair gently, then inhales deeply, speaking in her normal soft tones. 

“Kaori told me you were sick last night,” she begins, and you nod as if she had asked a question and not stated a fact. “Ever since Geto Suguru died, you’ve been awfully sullen. One might think you had been with him the whole time and not at the Imperial Palace.” You glance up at your mother, and she winks at you. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell your father.” 

“How did you know?” you wonder, and she smiles, wrinkles forming at the edges of her mouth. 

“Well first, whoever the General gets to write his letters needs to brush up on their penmanship,” she laughs, then shrugs. “But it was your face the day that the General was announced dead that I saw you change. It only took me a few days to realize that you were in mourning, not upset that your prince hadn’t sent for you.” 

“Mother, I--” 

“You had every right to keep it a secret, although I wish you hadn’t. It would’ve made my interrogation of Toji much easier.” You imagine your own mother - all of five-foot-four, standing up to the massive Fushiguro with a finger to his chest - and you can’t help but chuckle. “Whatever the General did, I haven’t seen you glowing like you did when you returned since you were a little girl. I’ll have to find a way to thank him for that.” 

You choke out a deep sob, closing your eyes as you think of the lack of tribute, the lack of a funeral, the missing images of him that won’t return to your memory. 

“Though Toji takes good care of you. I haven’t seen that man slack off on his job once since after the announcement. He’s also been very helpful with your father. You know, he would ma--” 

“Lady y/n!” Kaori sprints out of the home, and you both look up to see her flustered expression, wondering what would have her so worked up this early in the morning. “There was a messenger from the Imperial Palace in the square!” she stops in front of you, panting heavily. “The Emperor… has fallen… ill.” When she catches her breath, the head maid can finally finish her statement, and she exhales deeply. “As is custom, his eldest son will be taking a tour of the country. And he’s named this village as his final stop, with your house as his resting place for the time he is here. He’ll be in the village in a fortnight.” You sit up, eyeing the maid carefully. 

Pieces of a puzzle begin to click together in your mind.

“His eldest son is Prince Naoya, correct?” 

“Yes, my lady.” As if sensing your premature plan, Kaori looks you dead in the eyes, daring you to do what she imagines you are already thinking of. 

“And you said a fortnight?” Your mother butts in, squinting her eyes.

“Yes.” 

“Fourteen days to prepare.” you whisper, lifting your head out of your mother’s lap and retreating to the house to find the eldest Fushiguro. Kaori enters behind you, grabbing your elbow before you can open his guest room door.

“What you’re thinking of is suicide,” she hisses, but you shrug. 

“What better way to rejoin Geto than to kill his murderer and then die myself?” you retort, but she slaps a hand over the gap between the wall and the door, blocking you from entering. 

“This isn’t what he would want,” Kaori pleads. “Please, think about what he said.”

“I cannot wait for a dead man, Kaori. Now, let me go.” You yank free from her grasp and enter the guest room, eyeing a lazy Toji lounging by the window. “I need your help.” 

He rolls his head around to look at you and raises a brow. “With what, my lady?” 

“I need to kill a prince in two weeks. Think you can help me with that?” 

“You mean treason?” Toji sits up, letting the book he held in his hands drop to his bed, and hums thoughtfully. “Killing a prince as revenge… putting the Imperial Court into chaos… yeah, I think I can help you with that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki @brownskinnedgirll @keelyshayee @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something​

[hartigays]

rafebarry prompt: not canon compliant but rafe and barry are trying to get away from ward but barry gets hurt so rafe begs sarah + pouges (not on good terms w each other) to help them escape bc he loves barry<33

just a little something i thought about! totally up to you on how this all goes down if you decide to write it, anything you write is amazing !!

this was a stupid fucking idea. stupid, stupid, stupid. rafe knew from the beginning, he should’ve never agreed to this.

there aren’t many things that he and barry don’t agree on, surprisingly. even if they start off disagreeing about something, they generally always end up on the same page. but this plan had been something they’d gone back and forth on, never settling on a definitive decision.

in the end, barry had simply manhandled rafe over to the place he’d formerly called home - before ward booted his ass out - and waltzed them through the front door like they owned the place.

all to steal from ward, to get more money for coke and groceries (re: booze and hot pockets) and whatever other fleeting indulgences they could think of.

rafe had disagreed with this plan throughout its development and execution, not wanting to cross the one and only person in the entire world who scares him: ward cameron. and he’d been right to, because now barry is gasping for air, holding his side while blood spills from between his fingers.

they’re racing through the woods, trying to get as far away from ward’s long-range hunting rifle as they can.

rafe doesn’t know if ward knew he was barry’s companion in this little venture. he’d insisted they wear bandanas over their faces, but rafe is pretty sure ward would know his son in a heartbeat regardless.

he doesn’t even want to think about it. about the fact that ward shot barry, or that he probably would’ve shot rafe too if rafe hadn’t had the presence of mind to shove both barry and himself out of the nearest window, plunging into the bushes below before ward could get off another shot.

another shot on the person he more than likely knew to be his son.

ward had continued taking shots as rafe dragged barry across the yard and into the treeline, disappearing from view.

now, they’re back at the main road, barry collapsing against a tree as he clenches his hand around the wound in his side.

“let me see,” rafe demands, kneeling down and peeling up barry’s shirt despite barry shaking his head.

“ain’t got time, country club,” barry wheezes, trying to push rafe back so he’ll stand up and keep moving.

rafe doesn’t budge, just swipes at the blood with his shirt sleeve to get a better look at the wound. the bullet just grazed him, but it’s enough to warrant stitches at the very least.

“you’re not going to make it to the emergency room like this,” rafe comments absentmindedly, pulling out his phone a firing off a text to topper letting him know he’s going to need to borrow his car.

barry manages to push rafe back an inch this time, shaking his head furiously. “ain’t no way i’m goin’ to no damn hospital. i ain’t got insurance and your daddy done cut you off months ago. how you gonna pay for my little siesta in the ER with them empty pockets?”

and okay, he has a point. rafe will admit that. not to mention, ward has people all over the OBX, and if he sends out word about looking for his son, they’ll surely be caught if they’re trapped in the emergency room.

there’s only one other place rafe can think to go. one place where ward won’t know to look, one place where barry can get some medical help without having to shell out a fortune.

rafe may have to grovel a bit (or a lot), but he’ll do it. damn it, he’ll fucking do it because barry is going to bleed out if he doesn’t and that would really fucking suck because rafe was just starting to sort of like him.

he must’ve said that last part out loud, because barry manages to glare at him and say, “quit that shit. we been dating for a year, dickhead.”

then barry sort of slumps to the side, and rafe has to all but carry him to topper’s place.

rafe has just gotten the keys topper keeps in the cupholder into the ignition when he looks at his phone, seeing a text from top.

can’t let u borrow the car tonight, have a thing in the morning. srry bud.

rafe glances over at barry, who’s blacked out in the passenger’s seat, fresh blood still seeping out of his shirt.

“sorry about this, top,” rafe says to himself, turning the key and hearing the engine roar to life. “i’ll get you back later.”

he peels out of the driveway, speeding down the familiar streets until they become more and more unfamiliar, figure eight bleeding into the cut.

he zooms past more and more unfamiliar houses, searching for the only one he knows, starting to feel hopeless, starting to really worry that barry might actually die in the passenger’s seat of his car.

or topper’s car, rather. it’d be super annoying to have to apologize for that on top of having to apologize for stealing it in the first place, to be honest.

then suddenly, rafe is idling outside a house that is both familiar and unfamiliar. the few times he’s been here before, he’d been fucked up beyond belief and fueled by violent anger. it seems almost foreign to him now, while he’s sober as a judge (only due to his current circumstances, mind you) and fueled by nothing but pure adrenaline.

rafe practically drags barry to the house. there are all sorts of lights on, both inside and out, and rafe can hear the sounds of music and laughter drifting out from an open window nearby.

he only hesitates for a moment before circling around the house and banging on the door.

john b answers the door with a smile, a small wad of cash in his hand, clearly expecting some sort of food delivery. his smile fades instantly when he realizes it’s not his pizza or what the fuck ever, and is in fact rafe cameron and a half-dead barry.

“no,” is all john b says before trying to shut the door. rafe kicks his leg out, foot jamming between the door and the frame, preventing john b from closing it.

“fuck off, rafe,” john b grunts as he tries to shut the door. rafe can hear concerned voices from inside the house. “you’re not dragging us into whatever shit this is! literally fuck. off.”

“sarah!” rafe shouts, ignoring john b’s protests. “sarah!”

footsteps, and then sarah is pushing john b out of the way gently, looking at rafe in confusion, then at barry in horror.

“rafe? oh my god, what happened?”

sarah ushers them into the house, and rafe is literally dragging barry at this point. still, no one helps him get barry onto the couch. he manages regardless, but he’s panting when it’s all said and done, sliding down onto the floor with a grunt.

“i need you to help him,” rafe says, and he’s looking at pope, who’s seated in the corner beside jj, a guitar that he’s no longer strumming still sitting in his lap.

but john b is the one to answer, shaking his head. “no. besides, we can’t even help him. we don’t know how to do shit like that.”

“he does,” rafe says, still looking at pope, who’s now looking at barry thoughtfully.

“what?” kie laughs, looking bewildered. “pope may be smart, yeah, but he doesn’t have a medical degree. this guy needs a doctor.”

“i know how,” pope sighs, and rafe suppresses a smug smile. “i volunteered at the hospital last summer, remember?”

“and you knew this how?” john b asks rafe, accusatory.

“he was on my rounds once,” pope says calmly, leveling rafe with an unreadable look. “alcohol poisoning and a drug overdose all in one night.”

rafe fights the urge to look away, choosing instead to shrug nonchalantly.

“just another night in the cut, right?” rafe asks, arching one brow. “look, we can dredge up my poor life choices later, if it’ll make you all feel better and get your fucking panties out of a wad. but right now he needs help, so are you going to give him that or are you going to let him bleed out on your ugly ass couch?”

“i say let him bleed out,” john b snaps, clearly irked by rafe’s demands and insults.

rafe wants to knock the guy’s teeth down his throat, but he just breathes steadily through his nose. just like barry has been teaching him. “we can’t go to a hospital. no insurance, and ward’s hunting us down as we speak. so do i want to fucking be here? no. but i have to, so name your fucking price and we’ll pay it.”

“besides,” rafe continues, turning his eyes to sarah, challenging her, “you’re not just going to let someone die, are you?”

sarah narrows her eyes, hands perched on her hips. “no, that’s more your style, isn’t it?” then, she looks at pope. “come on, help him. he isn’t dying on john b’s couch. that’s way too creepy for me to deal with right now.”

pope nods and disappears from the room as sarah and john b bicker quietly. kie and jj glare daggers at rafe, while also eyeing barry, lying on the couch looking far more dead than alive.

when pope reappears, he has a first aid kit in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. he shoos rafe out of the way. rafe just scoots a little further to the left to give pope room, but stays close to barry.

“rafe, we need to talk,” sarah says after a moment. “outside?”

rafe shakes his head. “not until i know he’s okay.”

the room falls silent, and rafe looks around, glaring. “what, it’s illegal to care about people now? fuck off.”

“so do you want us to like… give you a room, or something? maybe some champagne and rose petals? we could get some ambient beats going, really set the mood, you know- ”

kie throws a pillow at jj, effectively shutting him up. “gross, jj. don’t put that image into my head.”

“look, whatever,” sarah interrupts, rolling her eyes. “but once he’s patched up, we’re having a conversation.”

rafe puts his hands up in mock surrender. “your house, your rules.”

he’s only trying to irritate john b, and it works. rafe smiles to himself when john b starts grumbling about it being his house actually, storming off to his room, undoubtedly to pout. sarah follows, and kie and jj trail after them a moment later. jj is the only one to look back, throwing a concerned look in pope’s direction before inevitably disappearing into john b’s bedroom.

rafe looks back at barry, all smugness disappearing from his expression when he sees just how bad the wound really is now that pope has cleaned it up a bit.

he really doesn’t care if he has to talk to sarah later - all he knows is that if barry dies, he’s sure as hell not going to be outside listening to sarah bitch at him when it happens.

rafe takes one of barry’s hands, ignoring the way pope’s eyes flicker down to the movement before returning to his work, remaining silent.

“you love him,” pope says suddenly, still not looking at rafe. he’s began sewing up the wound, his hands surprisingly steady.

“what’s it to you?” rafe asks defensively, but he curls his fingers tighter around barry’s, a little possessively.

pope just shrugs, like he doesn’t really care one way or another. “just an observation.”

he ties off the thread and cleans up the remaining dried blood from the wound with a rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton ball before applying a bandage and tugging barry’s shirt back down. it’s a lost cause, the shirt, but rafe appreciates the gesture anyway.

“it’s good to know you care about someone other than yourself,” pope says, finally turning towards rafe and giving him a hard look. “maybe there’s hope for assholes like you after all.”

rafe opens his mouth to say something bitchy back, but pope just claps him on the shoulder, stands and cracks his back, then leaves the room.

it’s just rafe and a passed out barry now. at least this way he can openly worry about his boyfriend, gnawing on his lip as he thinks about what it’ll be like if barry doesn’t make it.

rafe has been living with barry for some time now, ever since ward kicked him out. it’d started with sarah - she’d ran away and no one had known where. rafe ended up finding out through topper, but never seemed to get around to telling ward. don’t ask him why - he really doesn’t fucking know.

after sarah’s disappearance, ward’s temper reached its peak and rafe was kicked out mere weeks after his sister had gone missing. he stayed with topper for a while at first, often making trips to the cut to harass the dirty pogues who’d whisked his sister away from their supposedly happy family and her happy relationship with one of rafe’s closest friends.

when topper’s mother got sick of rafe loitering around her house, the only place left to go was barry’s. it’d helped that they’d already been screwing around for a while, initially so rafe could get discounts on coke, then turning into a full blown something over time.

their relationship has a definition now. barry had manhandled rafe into bed one evening and declared them to be officially official. meaning a relationship, meaning a bunch of figuring shit out as he goes because rafe sure as shit has never done any of this before.

he’s also pretty sure other relationships don’t involve hard drugs and robberies and shootings, so he thinks he’s got a few more obstacles to overcome than most when traveling the rocky road of a first relationship.

“rafe?” sarah calls, suddenly re-entering the room. “think we can talk now?”

rafe looks at her for a long moment. she looks different - happier, maybe? rafe wonders if he looks the same. maybe not right at this moment, with barry’s limp, clammy hand resting between his own, waiting on bated breath for barry’s eyes to blink open.

the need to hear barry’s slow drawl of coUnTrY cLUuUb is almost too much to bear, so rafe cuts his line of thought off, nods at sarah in answer to her question, and follows her outside.

they don’t talk for a long while, just staring out across the yard in silence. it’s not uncomfortable, per se, but rafe still wishes she’d say what she wants to say so he can get back inside. back to barry.

“this is a one time deal, you know,” sarah finally tells him.

when he looks at her from the corner of his eye, she’s staring directly at him, her expression serious. “i know,” is all he can come up with.

“i expect a thank you, just so you know.”

“i’m not thanking you,” rafe says immediately.

sarah actually smiles, just a little bit, then parrots back, “i know.”

“what did you want to talk to me about?” rafe asks eventually, pulling a cigarette from the pack he keeps in his pocket and lighting up.

sarah doesn’t answer for a moment, then shrugs, looking down at her hands. “i hate you, for the way you’ve treated me. and my friends. but sometimes i miss you. i miss my brother. what happened to you?”

it’s almost like she’s just thinking aloud, but rafe knows it’s a genuine question. one he doesn’t have an answer to. because he doesn’t really know where he went wrong - just that he could never seem to get anything right. not as a kid, not as a teenager, and not now as an adult.

“i don’t know,” rafe answers honestly, for the first time in a long time. he doesn’t know what else to say, so he tells her, simply, “but thank you for helping anyway.”

yeah, yeah. he wasn’t going to thank her, blah blah blah. whatever, shit happens.

the back door swings open, and rafe and sarah turn to watch barry stumble out of the house, still clutching his side but finally looking like a living, breathing person instead of a corpse.

“ain’t i tell you them things gonna rot your lungs?” is the first thing he says, plucking the cigarette from rafe’s lips and taking a drag.

rafe rolls his eyes, but lets barry rope him into a hug, careful not to bump into his wound.

“ugh, gross,” sarah huffs, making fake gagging noises before going back inside. rafe doesn’t miss the small smile that’s playing on her lips, though, and he’s suddenly filled with warmth.

it’s disgusting, and he’s surprised that he’s missed it. and that maybe, deep down, he’s missed his sister, too.

she said this is a one time deal, but maybe there’s a possibility of reconciliation. it’s a thought to revisit at a later date, rafe decides, wanting to focus on this moment right here, where barry is blessedly alive and safe.

so rafe just leans down a bit and buries his face in barry’s neck, taking a deep breath, feeling barry inhale and exhale around his cigarette as they stand in each other’s arms, companionable silence falling around them.

“you done saved my life, country club,” barry says, the first to break the silence.

rafe smiles against barry’s neck at the nickname, pressing a kiss to barry’s pulse point before pulling back a bit to look at him.

“yeah, you’re the only one who knows how to empty the septic tank,” rafe replies, deadpan.

barry throws his head back and laughs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of rafe’s head, pulling him down gently so he can press a kiss to his forehead.

“damn good thing you saved my ass, then.”

“sure is.”

when barry kisses rafe, he tastes like tobacco and blood, sour and metallic on his tongue. rafe should think it’s gross, but he just kisses barry harder, trying to scrub all the thoughts he’d had about barry dying from his memory.

it helps to have barry here, real and solid in rafe’s arms, lips soft against his own.

“can we get outta this shithole and back to our shithole?” barry asks when they separate, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “‘m pretty sure them shits would object to us christening their couch.”

rafe, for a moment, is tempted to try just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. but instead of following the urge, he lets barry guide him back to topper’s stolen car.

“who’s ride is this?” barry asks when they’re both buckled in, backing away from the routledge property.

“topper’s,” rafe explains, smirking to himself. “i, uh. borrowed it for the time being.”

“for the time being?” barry questions, and when rafe looks at him, barry is looking right back, brows raised and amusement written all over his face.

“mhm,” rafe confirms, matter-of-factly.

barry just glances around the car, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “sweet ride. think ol’ topper’d object to a little christening, too?”

rafe starts the car, letting his own smirk grow. “as a matter of fact, i think he would.”

barry blinks at him, then stares at his nails casually.

“so where we gonna park her?”

rafe just smiles, peeling away from the routledge house, cruising into the night.

“i know just the place.”

[heliotropehotch]

Wasteland, Baby - Hotch x fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first criminal minds fic I’m putting out! Im not really sure what this is but I was in need of more hotch fics i’m not gonna lie. tagging @writefasttalkevenfaster​ cause she let me ask her for ideas - also happy birthday Sabina!! This fic is kinda based on a mixture of wasteland, baby by hozier and separate ways by journey. Italics are flashbacks

Warnings: mentions of passed abusive relationship, kidnapping, torture, chained up, arguments, pining, cussing, mentions of sex

Words: 4134

Genre: Angst with fluffy ending

The bullpen of the BAU was quiet but bustling with the soft shuffling of papers and dull thuds of various coffee mugs meeting the hardwood desks. Aaron Hotchner slowly shuffled up the stairs to his office, sighing with the deeper aches of his body. His door shut behind him softly, feeling the weight of the long week catching up with him as his shoulders dropped. He looked over towards the clock on his desk before he trudged to his chair and sat down. 

Strauss had sent over details of a new team member coming to join the BAU for the indefinite future, but Hotch had yet to look over the information before now. Whoever they were, they were expected to arrive at any minute now. He sighed once again, running a calloused palm over his face, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. A knock echoed through the room. “Come in,” his voice called out. 

“Uh,” Dave began. “The new one’s here. Garcia’s smothering her with questions.” He chuckled. 

Hotch gave a small smile. “Of course she is.” 

He grabbed the file off of his desk as he made his way to the door of his office. I should at least know their name, he thought, opening the manila folder as he stepped out of the door. 

- - New addition to Behavioral Analysis Unit: Y/N Y/L/N - -

His eyebrows furrowed before his eyes shot up to find the face he hadn’t seen in over a decade. In the flesh, there you were, smiling sweetly at Spencer as he prattled off facts about pathogens of hand shaking. Hotch felt the folder slide from his loose grip and land on the floor with scattered papers and the sharp sound of it hitting the floor. 

Your ears caught the sound, causing you to look around just as his eyes had. Hotch was staring at you, his eyebrows still furrowed with what looked like concern, his mouth slightly agape. 

You met his eyes, and gave a nervous and small grin, raising your hand up in a tentative wave. 

“Aaron, I have to go,” you mumbled, stuffing your clothes into a suitcase. “Y/N, what are you talking about?” Hotch’s panicked voice rang out. He reached for your wrist. “Will you please just tell me what’s going on?” You yanked your hand away from his grasp, taking a hesitant step away. 

“When were you going to tell me about Haley?” you asked softly, staring at your hands. His veins run cold. “Y/N-”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You looked up at him with angry eyes. “Aaron, I know who she is to you. I know she’s all you’ve wanted since highschool. Was I even given a chance?”

“Y/N, I love you,” his shaky voice rang out as he took a step forward. 

“Don’t do that,” you shook your head, taking another step back, tears well past the point of being held back. “Don’t say it back to me now. You love her more. You always will. I just wish you could’ve told me instead of-”

Your voice choked, “Instead of sleeping with her. That would’ve hurt a lot less.”

“Y/N, please don’t go.” His own face wet with tears. She continues packing her things, with more intention. 

“And why shouldn’t I?” 

He stared at her silently, thinking of words, any words that would make you stay. He knew what they were, but his mouth couldn’t get them out. You had stopped to look at him now, heart hurting as the room fell silent. 

“Right,” you sighed, pulling the suitcase to your feet. “Go get her back Aaron, don’t lose her like you did me.” 

The door to his apartment clicked closed behind you. His hands wiped away his stray tears. 

“God, Hotchner. You’re such a fucking idiot,” as he picks up the photo of the both of you and throws it against the wall. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space. 

Hotch looked down at his now empty hands and moved to pick up the folder before heading down the steps. He tried to shake the initial shock of seeing you again off but his mind couldn’t help but think, this is gonna hurt like a goddamn bitch. 

“Y/N,” his voice sounded more confident than he was. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you spoke out, voice somewhat cold and disconnected. “I look forward to working with you.”

Garcia spoke up, eyeing the tension between the two of you. “Well, Hotch, I was about to come get you with a new case. It’s local.”

“Okay, just head to the briefing room. Agent Y/L/N and I will be there in a second.” Garcia mock saluted as the rest of the team headed up the stairs. 

“Y/N-” Hotch began, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

“Sir,” your bitter voice spoke. “Working under your command will not be an issue for me. If it is an issue for you, I understand.”

“Of course, it’s not,” his voice is soft. “I just think we should eventually have a conversation. I haven’t had a chance to look over your file-”

“You haven’t?” you looked at him with fear. “Sir, there are some things you will read, but it will in no way affect the way I work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe we have a briefing.”

Hotch sighed, looking at the file in his hands. His brows scrunched up in confusion, before his natural frown took over his features. Whatever was in there could wait. 

He straightened his back, pushing his shoulders back before quickly walking into the briefing room. “Garcia, what have we got?”

She clicks the remote, herself going a bit rigid at the images on screen. “Starting two weeks ago, six women have gone missing from the DC area. Local police have recovered at least 4 of the bodies in local bodies of water. The victims have large bruises and impressions around their wrists and ankles.”

“Like chains?” You spoke up. “How long between the time the first victim was kidnapped and her estimated time of death?”

“Five days,” Garcia’s sad voice answered. “And it’s been the same with the other bodies. The last victims reported missing were both taken 3 days ago.”

“So we have two days to work with local police before we can expect there to be two more bodies,” Hotch said, sighing at the time limit. “Everyone grab your stuff and we’ll head to the precinct.” 

~~~~

The next day, all of their information gathering, all of their leads, all of their information came to a screeching halt when a woman, with bruises around her ankles and wrists stumbled into the precinct. Her dirt covered clothes and disheveled hair screamed for help as her weak knees fell to the ground. 

Derek ran over to her and kneeled. “Someone get a medic over here!” he shouted. 

Anna Sawyer, 32, a bartender at a local pub had freed herself from chains of the unsub. After walking for hours, she finally got the precinct where she could find someone, anyone to help her. 

“Morgan and Reid are on their way to the hospital to get information about her captor and where she escaped from,” Hotch clicked his cellphone off. 

“What about the other girl? Do we think she’s kept in a separate space?” Prentiss asked. 

“Possibly,” you sighed, making notes on a notepad. “We can’t rule out anything until the boys get answers back.”

“In the meantime,” Hotch huffed out. “Everyone go get some food and meet back in an hour.”

“Y/N,” Emily grabbed your attention. “Wanna go grab a bite with me and JJ? I know a local place with good coffee and sandwiches.” She smiled

“Yeah sure that sounds good!” Grabbing her notepad and cellphone before giving Hotch a brief glance and a curt nod and following them out the door.

Hotch continued to stare, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth and thinking back to the unread personnel file he had on his temporary desk. Dave moved into his line of sight, with a knowing smirk gracing his face. 

“So you gonna tell me what that’s about?” Aaron huffed, moving towards the desk. 

“I knew her in college,” he said, short and sweet. Dave rolled his eyes. 

“And just how well did you know her in college?”

“We were together,” he sighed, gaining a shocked looked on Rossi’s face. “For about a year when Haley and I were on a break.”

“Aaron,” he called for eye contact. “You left her for Haley didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I was given a choice. She found out that I-” he cut himself off, clearing his throat as guilt flooded his veins. “She found out. And she left.” 

“You didn’t go after her?” 

“I couldn’t, Dave,” he sighed, shaking his head. “It was Haley. Everyone just expected me to marry her and I had to become someone I wasn’t.” He looked at the file on his desk. 

“Y/N wasn’t like anyone else. She was good for me, I loved her with so much, but when I saw Haley after so long, I just fell back into the routine.”

Dave sighed, patting his shoulder. “Haley loved you, but you can love more than one person. It’s been almost 3 years since-”

“I know, Dave,” his fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose. “But I don’t know if I can handle losing her too. Although, it feels like I already have. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe you should start by seeing what she’s been up to for the last decade,” Dave pointed to the file. “And then you should talk to her.” Then he walked to the coffee machine.

Hotch let out a sharp exhale of air, sitting down. He stared at the file a few seconds more, before thumbing the folder open. 

~~~~

At the cafe with Emily and JJ, you felt yourself relaxing into the friendships that were to come. You laughed at a joke Emily made about some of the more intense cops you were working with. 

“Thank you guys,” you sighed, taking a sip of your coffee. “You’ve been so nice to me.”

“Of course, Y/N,” JJ smiled. “You’re a part of this team now.”

“Exactly,” Emily agreed. “I do have a question though.”

“Working with a bunch of profilers, I should’ve expected that,” you chuckled. “What do you wanna know?”

JJ and Emily shared a look. “How do you know Hotch?”

You cleared your throat. “We, uh, kinda dated in college,” you admitted with a scrunch of your face. 

“Really? I thought he was only with Haley,” JJ commented, softly with bitter and sad tones. You cringed slightly, knowing of her passing. 

“They were on a break for a while when we were still studying. But we didn’t last longer than maybe a year,” you smiled sadly. “Haley came back and I just didn’t want to compete with his highschool sweetheart. It would’ve been a lost battle.”

Emily smiled sadly. “You still love him don’t you.”

A cold chuckle escaped your mouth. “It’s impossible for me not to. I thought that I’d be fine, ya know working with him. But then he had to go at look at me with those stupid eyes.”

“Aaron!” Your voice laughed out, as his fingers dug into your sides. “Aar- stop!” you giggled out between breaths. Finally his relentless torture stopped, him chuckling at your wild hair and flushed cheeks. 

He leaned down to kiss you, pulling his weight on you and pressing you into the couch. His face cradled your cheeks. He leaned back with a sweet grin, you still pinned underneath him. Your fingers reached up to brush some of his hair out of his face. 

“I love you,” you smiled. His breath hitched, a brief amount of panic flickering in his chocolate eyes. Cradling his face, you continue, “You don’t have to say it back, I know you’re still-”

You sigh, searching his eyes. “I just had to let you know.” 

You try to break eye contact, but his hand brings your eyes back. Without saying a word, he leans down to kiss you again, with more fire, and hands drifting down to your waist to pull you closer to him. 

“You should talk to him,” JJ said, reaching for your hand and interrupting your recollection. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Haley included.”

“You’re sweet JJ,” patting her hand. “I just don’t know if I can do that again. We’ve both been through so much in the last ten years.” 

A sad silence fell over the small table you had been seated at. “Sorry to be such a downer girls,” you chuckled, trying to alleviate the tension. “I’m gonna get another coffee.”

Standing in line you twiddled with your fingers, thinking about the words JJ had said. Aaron had been through so much, it wasn’t fair to want him again. But if he had been looking at you like that- 

“Excuse me,” a gravelly voice spoke up from behind you. “Don’t turn around.” You felt the barrel of a gun pressed into the slope of your lower back. 

“You’re going to come with me and get in my car,” he huffed into your ear. 

“And if I don’t?” you questioned. 

“Then I’m going to shoot the two women you came in with right here and right now between their pretty little eyes. 

“Okay,” your voice shook. “Just don’t hurt them.”

~~~

Aaron leaned back against the desk chair he was seated at, hands covering his face. The guilt that trembled through his body now had new reasons. He would give anything to not be around these people right now. His skin crawled with remorse.

“Aaron?” Rossi called out in question. “What’s in that file?” 

He quickly stood up and pressed the file to Dave’s chest, storming into the nearest room with a door. Rossi followed him, folder open, closing the door behind him. “He fucking hit her, Dave. Her choked her, he slapped her, he-”

Aaron was shaking now. “Hotch, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It was her ex!” he shouted. “The one before me! She went back to him because I couldn’t be who she needed and I couldn’t get past expectations well enough to tell her I loved her.”

“Aaron,” Dave spoke calmly. “This was years ago. He’s locked up, and she is as strong as ever. Have you seen the way she’s worked this case? It’s only been two days and she has the fire of any of us. She’s okay now.”

“If it wasn’t for me,” he breathed out, his hands trembling. “Then she wouldn’t have had to go through it in the first place.”

“There is absolutely nothing we can do about that now, Hotch,” his voice tried to sooth, but was interrupted by a phone call. 

“Yeah Prentiss,” he said. Aaron watched as his back straightened, shoulders tensing. “For how long?”

“Right,” his eyes, full of sorrow, reached Aaron’s. “I’ll tell him. Get back to the precinct as soon as you can.” Then he ended the phone call.

“Dave?” Aaron’s worried voice rang out. “Tell me what Dave?” 

“Aaron,” he sighed, looking down at his hands. “She’s gone, Aaron.” 

Hotch stumbled back, all air leaving his body. “He took Y/N.”

~~~~

“Alright what do we know?” Hotch asked sternly, walking into the conference room with the rest of the team. “How did he take her?”

“We were just talking about-” JJ coughed, interrupting Emily. “Things…. And she said she was going to get another cup of coffee. We didn’t see her for a while, so JJ and I started looking around the cafe when we saw her outside being forced into a dark van. By the time we got outside she was gone. I’m sorry, Hotch-” 

“Reid, what did you get from Anna?” Hotch moved on, voice angry. Worried looks darted across the room. 

“It was a similar case, Anna was talking to her friends about trying to get over a guy who liked someone else, on her break and went to get a round of drinks,” he said. “When about 30 minutes went by and she hadn’t come back, her friends assumed she just went home. They didn’t realize she was missing until the next day. Anna said she remembers him holding a gun to her back and saying he would kill her friends if she didn’t go with him.”

“Wait,” JJ stopped. “I think I know how he’s choosing his victims. We need to contact all of the victim’s friends again and find out what they were talking about the night they went missing.”

She looked at the group with a sad, but nervous look. “They were all talking about men they were in love with but couldn’t have.” Hotch coughed as he choked on air. 

“Did Anna remember anything about where she was kept?” Hotch rushed out, urgency taking over. 

“She remembers that she was underground for the most part,” Morgan answered. “When we tried to get her to remember details, she remembers hearing the sounds of cars going over a bridge over water.” 

Emily called Garcia, putting her on speaker. “Garcia, we need you to cross-reference any receipts from the places the victims were last seen. Run any names you find against property with basements near water bridges. Get back to us when you have something.”

“You got it, my goddess divine,” She ended the call. 

“Hotch-” JJ started, but he was already sauntering out of the room. The team looked at each other. “What are we gonna do if we can’t-”

“Then we just have to figure out how to,” Rossi said. 

In the file room down the hall, Hotch was having trouble breathing. He clutched at his tie, ripping it off his neck. Fuck.

~~~~~

“Pet, I don’t know why you’re fighting me so much,” the man taunted as you struggled against the chain and shackles. 

“Maybe because you fucking kidnapped me,” you huffed. He clicked his tongue. 

“Wouldn’t you much rather be with me than a man who doesn’t love you?” He said, hand wrapping around your throat. “Isn’t this better than nothing?”

“Isn’t this better than nothing?” Lucas, your ex said, handing you an ice pack for the bruise blooming across your face. “At least, I love you. I picked you off the floor of your house after he broke your heart.” He wrapped his hand around your throat, your heart rate pulsing. “You could at least say thank you.” 

“Thank you, Lucas,” your voice shook. 

“You’re welcome, babydoll,” he said smugly. “Now go to our room, I need to get off.”

“Nothing is better than being with you,” you spit into his face. He chuckled darkly, wiping his face.

“Little bitch,” he muttered, before punching you in the stomach. “I’ll make you wish you had nothing.”

He walked over to a table nearby, picking up a long blade. You strained against the wall, trying to get away from him. “Normally, I’d wait a couple of days before starting with you. But your time’s a little short,” he chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind scars, my pet. I’ll start small.” He winked. 

The tip of the blade dragged across your chest, stinging with red marks as blood began to surface, before disappearing behind the buttons of your blouse. Your breathing picked up, causing him to chuckle again. “Don’t worry my pet, we’re not there yet.” 

“You motherfucker,” you hissed. “Is that what does it for you? Getting off with girls who would never even look your way?” 

His face became angry. “You women are stuck loving someone who could never love you back,” he hissed. “No one could ever love you back. I’m just here to end your misery.” He smiled wickedly, cutting deeping into your side of your stomach. 

“I get to mark you up with these, with my hands, making the pain stay with you,” he said, tracing your arm with the blade, a long angry line blossoming. “And then when I’m tired of you, I get to watch you die with your last vision being me.” He set down the blade, grabbing a set of brass knuckles. “I’ll make you feel this for weeks, my pet,” he taunted, before landing a hit on your jaw. “Not like you’ll live that long anyways.” 

“The pain I give you will be the only thing you think about until I get to kill you,” his fist landing on your stomach again making it hard to breath. Your vision became spotty and you found it hard to stay awake. 

“Aww poor thing. Too much to handle already?” he teased, holding your lolled head up to look him in the eyes. “Good thing I’m killing you soon, cause nobody’s gonna love you after this.” 

A loud crash came from upstairs. He dropped his grasp on your now sore jaw. “What the fuck,” he said, climbing up the steps. 

“Thomas Wayne! Come out with your hands up!” You heard Hotch’s voice echo from upstairs. You smiled to yourself. 

Aaron aimed the gun right at the head of the unsub, anger and fear vibrated through his body, his skin on fire. Even with the man’s hands in the air, he adjusted his grip, finger tensed to stop himself from shooting him anyways. 

“Aaron,” Rossi grabbed his attention, causing him to turn his head to make eye contact. “Go find her. I’ve got him.”

He quickly dropped his aim and holstered his gun before moving towards the basement door. Thundering of rushed feet resonated through the walls of the dark rooms. “Y/N!” he called out.

“Aaron,” you scratched out, barely audible to his ears. Quickly, he found you, rushing over to get the shackles off your wrists and ankles. You collapsed against his chest, huffing out a sob. His arms held you tightly, trying to avoid any visible wounds. You gasped, pain shooting through your ribs, but that didn’t matter to you right now. You focused on the hands soothing your back.

“Hey, shh,” he cooed. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got you.” His own tears flowing over his face. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you choked out. “I thought he was gonna-”

“I’m never gonna desert you, honey,” he pressed his face into your neck. “I’m so sorry. But he’s gone, okay? I’ve got you. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Aaron,” you started, knowing he knew. 

“Hey, it doesn’t matter,” he moved your hair out of your face. “It doesn’t matter cause I’ve got you.” 

~~~~ 

Soon after, you were moved to a hospital to get treated for the cuts and cracked ribs you suffered. Aaron hadn’t left your side the whole time, causing some issues for hospital staff but he really didn’t give to shits. Now as you slept, system full of pain meds, he sat resting his arms next to you, one hand tangled with yours. 

Slowly you woke up, looking around the room before your eyes landed on his. You released your hand from his and rested it on his head, combing through his hair like you used to in college. The sensations startled him into sitting up. 

“You’re awake,” he smiled, grabbing your hand again. 

“You’re still here,” you replied, only kind of surprised. 

“I told you, Y/N,” he said, sitting on your bed. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“Aaron-” you started, squeezing his hand. 

“I love you,” he rushed out, your eyes widening at his confession. “I always have. I lost you once before because I didn’t know how to say it to someone who needed so much more than I could offer. Reading your file-” his voice choked up. 

“So I’m not leaving again. And I’m not letting you leave again. Cause no matter how long I have you, no matter how long my love for you lasts, I’m gonna make sure I don’t fuck it up like I have before. You’re never going to have to go through anything without me by your side. Letting you walk out that door was my biggest mistake, and I’ve regretted not doing something for 10 years. And I’ll live everyday trying to make sure you never feel that way again.”

You sniffled, letting your heart open for the first time in years. Your knuckles were white from gripping his hand. “Aaron, I love you,” you laughed through your tears. His lips met yours slowly, giving you time and space to be comfortable against your healing injuries. His forehead rested against yours, smiles filled both of your faces. 

And suddenly, the end of the world didn’t seem as scary with him by your side. 

[sunshineseung]

Little Secret Part 2 // Changbin

🍄 | genre: smut mini-series ☁️ | pairing: Seo Changbin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 3.6k 🌸 | includes: virgin!reader, kinda romantic, lots of smoochin’, lil bit of begging, reaaally soft sex, oral (f!receiving), consent :), protected sex, aftercare? ig

v Please read part one first! v

🌊 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Finale |

“Alright, I’m gonna go. Thanks for having me over.” Changbin thanked his closest friend, always polite and courteous to Jisung for allowing him to come over so often. 

“Cmon, you know you’re always welcomed here.” Jisung cleaned up their mess of popcorn and chips, tossing the bowls into the kitchen sink before helping Changbin leave. “See ya tomorrow in the studio, right?”

“You know it!” Changbin waved to Jisung as he entered his car. His car started with a hum, and the Bluetooth connected to his phone and continued where his Spotify left off. Ignoring whatever song was playing, Changbin dropped his forehead into the steering wheel as he faced the text message app in his phone. He patiently waited for you, staring at the bright screen, until he saw the familiar ellipsis text bubble appear in the lower-left corner. His face lit up with glee, and he felt his heart start beating out of his chest. 

Changbin knew all too well that you had a crush on him. You made it more than obvious, stuttering over your words whenever he talked to you or hiding in your room whenever he was over. He and Jisung would joke about it in an attempt to brighten an otherwise problematic situation, but deep down, Changbin liked it. He liked the way you stared at him when he would be shirtless around your house. He liked the way you would go quiet in your room whenever he would start to talk purposefully loud about his sex life. He even liked it when he would go upstairs to use the restroom and hear your little moans of his name from inside your bedroom. He was always such a tease to you, and he couldn’t deny that he liked you too, but not in the exact same way.

Changbin lived alone. He had his own apartment downtown, and although he was known for DJing at parties, he would spend a lot of nights alone, left to his own thoughts. To combat intrusive or self-destructive thoughts, he would jerk off, obviously. And as much as he tried to focus on the pornography in front of him, he would always end up closing his eyes and letting his mind wander to you. The image of you riding him, bouncing on his cock as your chest rose and fell, was a go-to for him whenever he needed to cum fast. The thoughts of you doing sinful things with him never appeared until the beginning of this school year when he saw you carry a package to your room that was not-so-discretely a package from a sex shop. He always thought of you as extended family, being his best friend’s brother and all, but after imagining what naughty things might have been in that box, his mind was set. You were the only girl that could satisfy him.

He knew his experience would frighten you, but he wanted to ruin you more than anything. Jisung had never seen you with a partner, and although this was second-hand information, Changbin would love to take your virginity, making you cum over and over again anyway he can. 

This was his chance. He never knew how to make the first move on you without Jisung noticing, but if this was how it had to be, then this is how it had to be. 

You walked out to his car after sneaking past your brother, taking a seat in the passenger seat of Changbin’s car, refusing to look at him, although Changbin’s eyes were focused on you. He smiled gently, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Look, I said I’m sorry.” Changbin placed a hand on your shoulder and you gulped loudly. You could have sworn you felt your heart to a frontflip. 

“Changbin,” your voice was quiet, scared of what was about to happen, “if you don’t want to do this, then I-”

“Y/n, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you.” You were speechless. You darted your eyes to meet his, and his gaze was dripping with sincerity and lust. “Let’s go back to my place. You can sleep over, I don’t care. I just want you right now.”

“Wa-want me?” You bit your bottom lip, unable to believe the current situation you were in. The boy you’ve had a crush on since middle school was about to fuck your brains out until the sun came up. Your mind was foggy, but not foggy enough to refuse Changbin’s advances. 

His right hand rested on your thigh the whole 30 minute drive to his apartment, and you almost started shaking just thinking about what he was going to do to you. All your filthy fantasies were about to come to life, or you hoped they would. 

Despite your excitement, the thought of Jisung finding out terrified you. Although you fought constantly, he was always protective. He would never let anyone lay a finger on his precious little sister. The only person that could bully you was him. If he knew what his best friend was about to do to you, he’d explode out of anger. 

Changbin knew this. He knew damn well what he was doing would upset his best friend, but he couldn’t let this go any longer. Changbin would make lewd jokes about you infront of Jisung, each time resulting in Jisung fake-puking and threatening the older’s life if he were to ever even think of fucking you.

Ah, if only he knew.

You arrived at Changbin’s apartment. The elevator ride to the third floor was silent, but Changbin stayed close to your side the entire time. Your mind was still a mess, but Changbin’s presence made you a little bit at ease. As painfully horny as he made you, he was still your first love. You loved to be around him.

Once inside of his apartment, Changbin eased you in and welcomed you, giving you a quick “this is the living room” tour. You sat on his couch per his request and nestled back into the soft upholstery. Everything smelled like Changbin (unsurprisingly), and you almost fell asleep the second you sat down before Changbin sat next to you and leaned into your ear.

“This is your first time, right?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. His voice was deep and hardly above a whisper. You felt so hot, and the atmosphere was so hot, and when you looked at him, he looked so hot. Holy shit. This is happening. 

“Yeah, but that’s okay, right?” You leaned away from him, afraid he would pounce on you at any moment. He noticed the fear in your eyes, and his glassy eyes reverted to his soft, warm gaze. He laughed it off, gently placing his hands on your hips and pulling you onto his lap, earning a quiet yelp from you. 

“Of course that’s okay, baby.” His nickname for you melted your heart. You blushed brightly, and Changbin thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He felt his chest get tight as a smile stretched across his face. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

“Alright, Bin.” He leaned in, and you realized you hadn’t kissed anyone since Junior prom (Don’t tell Jisung! It was a one time thing!). What if you weren’t good enough for him? What if you were bad at this? What if-

Then his lips were on yours. He waited patiently for you to get more comfortable, never moving on until you began to kiss him back. The kiss was so light and sweet, something Changbin hadn’t experienced since high school, but it honestly made his heart sing. He was the one that was supposed to be teaching you! What the fuck was this? Your hands quickly found their place on his shoulders and the back of his neck as you pulled yourself closer to him. You could feel him semi-hard under you, and you gently pushed your body down to feel more of him without thinking that he would also feel you push down on him. He pulled back and hissed, cursing under his breath. You tried to apologize, but before you could utter a word, his eye contact made you speechless. 

“Eager, are we?” His smirk made your heart drop. God, he was so good looking it made your brain error. Of course you were eager, but you didn’t want to fully submit immediately. You were always a baby to him, so this could be your chance to have him see you as more mature, right?

“I just wanted to feel you.” Your sweet little voice made Changbin swoon. He knew you were innocent, and as much as he wanted to ruin you, there was an angel on his shoulder telling him to be gentle and caring. He wrapped his arms around you and brought you into another kiss, this time greedier and heavier than the last one, but you felt safe in his arms.

Changbin’s lips on your jawline felt like nirvana. He was so gentle with you, yet still domineering enough to make you entirely pliant in his arms, not like you’d know what to do if he actually let you be in control. You felt his kisses become rougher as he began sucking hickeys onto your neck. You arch your back and lean into his body, giving him full access to your neck. His hands went from supporting his weight at your sides to exploring your body, feeling you up over your shirt as slowly as possible.

“Take this off, princess.” Changbin tugged at the bottom of your shirt, hoping you get the hint. You nodded and hastily tossed your shirt off, exposing your braless chest. “Oh? Nothing on underneath?”

You looked down and covered your chest with your arms. Fuck, why were you so nervous? You’ve wanted this for years and now you’re shy? Changbin grabbed your wrists and slowly pulled you away from yourself, again exposing your chest to him. His face was unreadable aside from the casual smile that made your head spin.

“So beautiful.” Your face was as red as a tomato. His hands moved from holding your wrists to holding your hands, keeping you from covering your body. “This is what I’ve been missing out on this whole time? Damn, I should have done this sooner.”

He looks to you for any sign of discontent, but your soft puppy eyes tell him everything he needs to know, and he knows you need him. He dives his head into your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue circling the sensitive bud, and takes your other breast into his hand, gripping your nipple between his fingers and twirling it gently enough to make you keen. He was so good at what he was doing, and you couldn’t help but moan and whimper, especially when his teeth began to tug at your nipple. 

Switching his head from one breast to the other, he briefly makes eye contact with you, and your adorably innocent gaze is enough to make him fully hard, his cock begging to be let out of his sweatpants. You looked so good, and the spit dripping from your chest lead down to where he wanted his mouth the most: your cunt. 

His heavenly touch left your chest, and you whined from the lack of stimulation before he stood up from the couch, taking you up in his arms in the process. He carried you to his bed, placing you down softly on the sheets. The smell of his overwhelmed you as you sunk into his pillows, quickly becoming blissed out and ready for more. 

Changbin joined you on the bed, taking his position between your legs, kissing your tummy and moving down to the waistband of your pants. You knew what was coming, but you didn’t know if you were ready. Your heart was beating out of your chest as Changbin looks to you again, lightly tugging at your pants.

“Bin, c-can you turn off the lights?” You point to the switch on the wall, and Changbin giggles before getting up and switching them off. The street lights from outside his window illuminated the room just enough for Changbin to still see the warm glow radiating from your body. He took a second to look at you, legs spread wide and chest arched up. Your eyes were glued to Changbin too, who had a noticeably large bulge in his pants. It was then that you realized you wanted this. You were ready for anything Changbin wanted to give you, to do to you. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby.” He comes back between your legs, and you raise your hips for him to slide off your shorts. The underwear you had on was nothing special, but Changbin loved it nonetheless. His fingers pressed your wet panties into your even wetter cunt, making the area fully drenched in your slick. You whined, desperately wanting more stimulation. 

“Please fuck me, Bin.” You didn’t know you had it in you to be so vulgar, and neither did Changbin. His eyes go wide as he looks up at you. You were so desperate, tears were lining your eyes. 

“Not yet, babe. Let me taste you first.” He slides your panties down your legs, adding them to the rest of the clothes. Now you’re fully naked, and fully at Changbin’s disposal. A single finger runs through your folds, and you whine when he begins to play with your clit, making small, calculated circles around the nerves. 

While your eyes are closed, he leans down and lays on his stomach to become eye-level with your pussy. His fingers leave your clit only to be replaced by his mouth, sucking and licking at your clit. You buck into his face subconsciously, and he can tell how much you love it by the liquid dripping out of your cunt. One finger slides in with ease, and when he bends it, you arch your back even more, and Changbin quickly finds your g-spot. 

“Bin, more, please.” Changbin could bust in his pants by how much you’re begging for him, but he loves it. Your voice gets so high-pitched and whiny every time you try to speak, but he loves it. 

He adds two more fingers, now thoroughly stretching you out. The drag of his fingers is insane, and he can reach deeper inside you than you ever could. You push onto his hand, subtly riding his fingers as he pumps them into you. His mouth is still attached to your clit, lapping you up like it’s his last meal. You feel yourself begin to become undone, and you throw your head back from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Bin, c-close.” That’s all you can squeak out before Changbin sucks harsher at your clit, pumps faster inside you, and makes you cum on his face and fingers. Your cum coats him as you shake from the most intense orgasm you’ve experienced thus far. You moan his name loudly, and hearing you curse so much is beyond sexy to Changbin. Your sweat reflecting the street lights, your back arched with your perky titties standing up, your beautiful moans and sounds. It’s all too perfect to be true. 

“Good girl.” Changbin takes his fingers out of you and sits up when you’re through your orgasm. He sucks off his fingers, tasting your sweet cum. The sight was too much, and you wanted nothing more than for Changbin to finally fuck you and take your virginity. “Is my girl ready for my cock?” 

“Y-yes Changbin, please, I need your cock.” You raise your hips, this time to get his attention back to your most sensitive area. He looks down and notices your neediness. Changbin’s shirt flies over his head and joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. He’s sitting between your legs on his knees, giving you a moment to ogle at his sculpted body, which you did.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but this time was different. Now his body was over you, not across the room or in the pool. You subconsciously reached out to him, leaning forward and running a hand down his abs, stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Changbin laughs, but you get unbelievably embarrassed in a matter of seconds, leaning back and covering your face with your arms. Changbin pins your hands above your head and leans down to kiss your blushing face all over until finishing on your lips, his tongue dancing with yours. “Don’t be shy, baby. Just calm down and let me take care of you.”

That smile. It was so sincere. You felt like he cared. Immediately, your heart burns with passion as you lean forward to kiss him while still being held down by his hands. His hands move down your arms to your chest, feeling you up one more time before you feel his hands leave your body. He breaks the kiss and leans to his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. 

Without missing a beat, he pulls his pants and boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free. It’s a lot bigger than you had imagined, but that’s okay. You wanted him more than anything, and judging by the precum leaking out of his tip, he wanted you too. 

Changbin slides the condom down his shaft, making sure to pinch the tip of the rubber. He leans down and holds your hands at your sides, entwining his fingers with yours. You try to take deep breaths to calm down, but now that he feels so close, your heart feels as if it could burst out of your chest at any moment.

“This might hurt, but it will feel good, I promise.” He runs his tip through your folds, getting the head wet with your juices before lining up with your entrance. “Do you trust me, Y/n?” You nod, but that isn’t enough for Changbin. “Words, baby. Do you trust me?”

“Yes!” All you can do is whimper and squeak, a mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling inside you. “Yes, Changbin. I trust you.” 

Changbin pushes his member into you, stretching you around him. It feels like you’re about to be split in half, like your lower half could just fall off. Fuck, was it painful. But as Changbin bottoms out, he just waits. He waits for your face to go from pure pain to pure pleasure. You’re biting harshly down on your lip, holding in any whines from the pain. After a moment, you let out a moan and push down onto his cock as if it wasn’t already fully inside you. 

“Bin,” your glassy eyes meet his, “move.”

His thrusts are slow and steady, making this the most enjoyable experience for you. Although you’re far from an orgasm, Changbin is scarily close. Your cunt feels like it was made for him. You’re tight, so fucking tight, but just enough for Changbin to still fit. He looks down and catches his cock disappearing into your dripping hole. The sight is filthy, and he loves it. If that wasn’t enough to make him close, your pretty moans were.

He knew your face was pretty, but your sounds, dear god your sounds. You sounded like an angel. Whenever you moaned his name, Changbin could feel his heart flutter. You sounded so damn pretty, like the best song he’d ever heard.

Changbin’s thrusts became more sloppy as he struggled to hold back his impending orgasm. You just looked so hot. The way your face scrunched up when he thrusted into you, moaning and whining with every moment. Your chest bouncing in rhythm to the sound of his balls hitting against you. It was all too much. 

You felt Changbin’s cock throb inside you, and you instinctively tighten around him. With a shaky breath, he cums inside the condom. His pretty little high-pitched groans as he came made you smile, thinking to yourself, yeah, I did that. 

He pulled out and disposed of the full condom. You held your arms out to him as he watched you sleepily make a little grabby hands gesture towards him. You looked so cute, how could he not cuddle with you?

Then you realized you had to pee.

But you came back as fast as you could to cuddle with him, pulling yourself into his chest, hearing his heartbeat and making your breathing in sync with his. His warmth enveloped you. You felt like you belonged there, laying in his arms with a gentle smile on your face as you were nodding off to sleep.

Changbin watched your eyes flutter shut, admiring how adorable you looked in his big arms. He wanted to talk to you, make sure you were okay, but you were already asleep by the time he collected his thoughts. All he could do was pull you closer, taking in the sweet scent of your messy hair.

Changbin was always hooking up with girls and going on dates, but nothing ever stuck. Recently, he’s been keeping to himself, and whether he’d like to admit it or not, it was because of you and his wicked thoughts. His feelings towards you for the past few months have always been of sexual attraction, nothing more. Now, actually having you in his arms, he didn’t know if his feelings were entirely rooted in lust or if he wanted something more… no. There’s no way Changbin was going to catch feelings for his best friend’s sister. No way. No fucking way.

How would Jisung react if he found out? How would he even find out? If you wouldn’t snitch, neither would Changbin, and you both subconsciously agreed to never utter a word to your brother. There was no way he could find out. No way. No fucking way.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

An hour ago, Jisung got an alert on his phone. It was way too late for one of his booty calls to be texting him. What the fuck would alert him at this hour. 

Life360

Y/n arrived at Changbin’s Apartment.

No way. No fucking way.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 56

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky don't recuperate for long.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

Wariness thrummed in your bones as you awoke, and when you opened your eyes, Bucky was already sitting upright and alert, brows dipped in concentration.

It wasn’t his movement that had jostled you awake, but his emotions flowing across the bond, as easily felt as your own. It should have been weird—what kind of person wanted to share their deepest emotions with someone else?—but you and Bucky had never been exactly normal.

“What is it?”

You sat upright, still not fully awake, pulling the covers over your bare chest. Now that you were awake, you also sensed something amiss.

“I don’t know.” Bucky threw back the covers and hastily pulled on his jeans, not wasting time to wrestle with a shirt as his wings twitched behind him. “There’s a lot of activity going on out there.”

Also scrambling for your clothes, you realized all you had were the ceremonial robes, which were currently tattered to ribbons on the floor.

Wong is going to kill me.

But that was an issue for later-you. Needing to find another set of clothes but not keen on leaving the room naked, you opened the nearest set of drawers and pulled out the robes inside until you found a pair that fit. Muted gold and tan, you slipped it on and realized too late it only came up to mid-thigh, clearly mean to be worn with trousers.

Bucky paused next to the door, appraising your new outfit, and you gave him a don’t say a word glare.

His lips twitched, but at least he kept his thoughts to himself, and you followed him out the door.

Or, you tried and bumped into him, holding onto his wings to not stumble back; Bucky had been forced to stop at the sheer amount of chaos in the hallway. Sorcerers running back and forth, many of them casting spells into the air or at the walls, none of them paying Bucky or you any attention.

You approached the nearest one, recognizing him as one of Wong’s students, and had to grab his arm when he nearly tripped into you in his haste to cast spells.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, letting go of his wrist when you had his attention.

The sorcerer glanced between you and Bucky, and as it so often did, lingered for a moment on your horns. He cleared his throat.

“What?” Bucky asked, pressing against your shoulder. “What is it? Speak up.”

“The… the prisoner has escaped.”

Bucky went pale, his eyes wide, and for a moment you sensed the raw, jagged fear across your bond, prickling up the back of your own neck. He hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be enslaved by Zemo, the memories still as fresh as new wounds.

You pushed back against his strong emotions, realizing this was something you’d have to work on, separating your emotions so they wouldn’t overwhelm. Your pulse was elevated, goosebumps broke out across your skin, but you muted Bucky’s fear as best you could so you could get a handle on the situation.

“Where’s Strange?”

“His office. Making plans to retrieve the prisoner.”

And probably figure out how Zemo managed to get free, you thought. You imagined not many people were able to escape from deep in the wizard’s headquarters.

“Great. Thanks.”

You turned away from the sorcerer to leave him to what he was doing, which was either repairing broken wards or bolstering existing ones, and faced Bucky. With a gentle touch on his arm, you leaned in so as not to be overheard but the hassled wizards.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky blinked and blew out a short breath. He ran his normal hand through his hair, visibly collecting himself before he answered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine. Fuck.” He shook his head. “How did that bastard get out?”

“I think we need to have a talk with Strange.”

“Yeah,” he growled, fixing his eyes down the hallway toward the far end where the staircase was located. “We do.”

The journey to Strange’s office was interspersed with hurried sorcerers, hands weaving complicated glyphs into the air, too occupied to even notice your passage through the halls.

You nearly walked into a wizard as he dashed from the office, giving a rushed apology as he slipped between you and Bucky. You exchanged a glance and continued inside.

As opposed to the pandemonium outside, it was controlled chaos within. Sorcerers walked the perimeter of the office casting spells, some of them consulted over what looked suspiciously like electronic tablets, and there were Strange and Wong in the middle of the room. In between them was a glowing orange depiction of the Sanctum, with an area below it depicted in blue. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out it was a magical layout of the building and where it had been breached.

“Finally,” Strange said without taking his eyes off the glittering miniature building. “Sergeant, I need you to suit up—after you’ve been cleared by the healers, of course.”

“You want me to hunt Zemo.” Bucky’s tone was flat, incurious, as if he already knew the answer. A glimmer of fear shone across the bond, but when he glanced at you, the trepidation molded into simmering anger. “Yeah, I’ll hunt the bastard for you.”

“I’m coming too.”

Now Strange did take his gaze off the map, meeting your eye through the magical projection. Even Wong stared, expression unreadable as it often was. You met their gazes unblinking, even as you tried not to fidget from the draft against your bare legs.

“The bond worked,” you insisted.

Strange sighed.

“Yes, I deduced as much when neither of you left the room for hours on end.”

Heat burned your cheeks and your tail puffed like an angry snake, which you then had to hold down with one hand so it didn’t lift the back of your robes.

So much for not blinking.

There was a hand on your shoulder, soothing and comforting. Bucky met your questioning look with a soft smile, and the same comfort given by his presence was doubled as it also came across the bond.

“The bond worked,” you repeated to Strange, bolstered by Bucky’s silent support. “Which means Bucky and I work better in tandem. I’m not a liability anymore; you said it yourself I’m a full-fledged sorcerer. I want to help. I will help.”

Strange said nothing and you bristled.

“Zemo kidnaped me. He tortured me. He held me hostage so he could get to Bucky—“

“And then he killed you.”

It wasn’t Strange who spoke, but Wong, stepping forward with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you sure this is something you wish to do? Track down the man who ended your life and sent you to the demon realm? Think carefully.”

You closed your mouth and swallowed, taking in Wong’s words and giving them the proper attention they deserved.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat. “Yes. I won’t let him do to someone else what he did to me. And to Bucky.”

Pride, concern, and even some exasperated fondness trickled across your link. You nearly smiled but kept your lips in a thin line, not wanting Wong to think you weren’t serious about this, because you absolutely were.

Strange stroked his goatee and glanced sideways at Wong.

“She was your student first. What do you think?”

If Wong was surprised to be asked for his opinion by the Sorcerer Supreme, he didn’t show it. Instead, he scrutinized you so closely you wanted to break out in a cold sweat, and then he turned to Strange and said:

“She’s ready.”

“Then I will defer to your judgement.”

You blinked.

“Just like that?”

Strange actually had the audacity to smirk.

“Were you hoping for a debate committee?” His attention was drawn back to the magical blueprint, his smile fading, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “The truth is, we could use the help. Zemo has gone to ground. He’s a smart man, even managed to break the tracking spells we put on him. He may be one step ahead of us, but… there’s one thing he won’t factor into his calculations.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

You glanced at Bucky but he simply shrugged, confused as you were.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Wong answered this time. “Zemo believes you are still dead. He doesn’t know you’ve returned, and he certainly doesn’t know you now possess magical capabilities. What has he been relying on to give him his edge so far?”

It was almost like you were back in one of Wong’s lessons, so you paid attention and followed his train of thought.

“Demon magic?”

“Mmhmm.” Wong gave the barest of smiles. “And what is your mystical specialization?”

“Demon magic,” you answered with your own smile.

“He will most likely rely on old HYDRA facilities to stay in hiding, which is where you come in, Sergeant.” Strange nodded to Bucky. “You both are our best means of tracking and recapturing Helmut Zemo.”

The plan sounded all well and good, but something was nagging you. Something important you were missing.

“How did Zemo escape?”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled as he pulled his hand off your shoulder and turned to the two sorcerers, arms folded over his chest.

“Yeah. How did Zemo escape?”

“We’re still investigating the precise way he did it, but…” Strange tapped the magical image of the building and it expanded, focusing on the sub level where it showed a cell lined in blue, fragments of it missing. “From what I can tell, during your ritual with Barnes someone infiltrated the Sanctum with the goal of weakening the demon wards around Zemo’s cell. They succeeded, causing only minor damage to the wards, but unfortunately it was enough for Zemo to recall his servant to teleport him and his accomplice out of the building.”

“You mean his slave.” Anger simmered in your chest, but dread twisted in the pit of your stomach. “The Alp is enslaved again.”

“Yes,” Strange said, reluctantly. “And we don’t know if Zemo has other demons under his power, ones that can do more than simple teleportation, or if his allies are human, such as the one who set him free. Most likely, he has backup plans of his backup plans, so we must move swiftly, especially before he finds more of HYDRA’s ill-advised toys lying around. One demon gate was bad enough. I don’t wish to find out what he would do with more Infinity Stone-powered artifacts.”

“So.” Bucky stepped forward, arms across his chest. “Where do we start?

As Strange began to discuss strategy and what he believed was the best approach, your attention drifted to something else.

Strange’s collar. More specifically, the collar of his red cape. The Cloak of Levitation. It slightly fluttered in a non-existent breeze, just as present and alive as any person.

The relic that had chosen Strange.

Recalling the Ancient One’s words, you let your eyes wander around the room, searching for the relic that was supposedly yours. The instruments that lined the shelves and display cases had never responded to you before, even after reawakening your powers, and they didn’t call to you now. A relic was supposed to make itself known to you when you were ready, but still, nothing leapt out at you as particularly important.

And then you finally remembered, oh shit. You hadn’t actually told them about your conversation with the Ancient One yet. Not that you’d had time, with waking up and finding Bucky the way he was, and that had certainly taken up all of your—

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

You jerked your head around and there was Strange, giving you a flat and put-upon stare. Bucky turned to you with a raised brow, but Wong was watching you without blinking.

“Sorry. I just… Is this the Ancient One’s office? This is her office, right?”

Much like the sorcerer you had just mentioned at your last encounter, Strange simply gaped at you.

“Come again?” he said with the impatient tone of one not used to having to ask for clarification.

“Is this her office? I’m supposed to find something here.” When no one said a word, you sheepishly added, “I, uh, spoke to her. After I must have passed out during the ritual—“

“Excuse me?”

“How is that possible?”

“You what?”

That last was from Bucky, and it was to him you answered first. Guilt surfaced at your unintentional omission of truth.

“I saw her, and talked to her, but it-it’s not important how right now.”

At Bucky’s furrowed brow and tight jaw you moved closer, trying to soothe him across your bond. The tension in his body loosened marginally, and his distress became a more mild worry.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything later when we have time,” you said quietly. “What’s important is that she wanted me to go to her office to find my relic. And if we’re going to hunt Zemo, I would rather have it before we leave.”

Strange exchanged a look with Wong, one you didn’t understand but seemed laden with meaning. You frowned.

“What?”

“She said: her office?” Wong asked. “Are you positive those were her exact words?”

“Yes. Why?”

Bucky didn’t seem to have any clue as to why that was important either, but Strange and Wong continued to have a silent discussion before Wong finally spoke.

“I’ll take her.”

“Then…” Strange took a deep breath and gave you a last look. “I wish you luck.”

Before you could ask what the hell that meant, Wong began ushering you and Bucky out of the office, but then Strange spoke up again.

“Oh, one last thing. You two won’t be going after Zemo alone.”

You couldn’t quite read Strange’s expression, something like frustration and amusement. Usually he only made that face in regards to you, so you knew it couldn’t be good.

“What’s that mean?” Bucky asked, probably coming to a similar conclusion.

“The Avengers, as you know, have their hands tied with the Sokovian Accords, and can’t help us with this matter. Not in an official capacity. The last thing we need is to have the United Nations aware of our presence.”

Bucky frowned further.

“Your point?”

“My point, Sergeant, is that neither Steve Rogers nor Tony Stark can assist in retrieving Zemo. To do so would require official channels to know how he escaped, and why imprisonment was necessary from the start.

“Not to mention where he was being held,” Strange added with a sigh. “Our order relies on secrecy and independence in order to function. The UN knowing about the Sanctums would make protecting this planet that much harder.”

Strange was right, but you were less concerned about the sorcerers being exposed—they could handle themselves. More worrying would be the world’s governments becoming aware of Bucky and his demonic side. Especially with the Sokovian Accords in play and the Avengers unable to intervene, keeping Bucky under the radar was important now more than ever.

“So… who’s going to be helping us?” you asked, curious despite yourself.

“A liaison, of sorts. I’ll give you more details when you return, and I expect you to play nice.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Strange,” Bucky growled.

“I was talking to her.”

Strange glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t even get the chance to defend the slander before he was waving you away and Wong was leading you out the door.

“His name is Sam Wilson,” Strange called after you. “And he is an Avenger, so try not to embarrass us.”

Your annoyance at the wizard evaporated.

“You know who he is?” Bucky asked, casting you a side glance. He must have sensed your sudden excitement across the bond.

“Of course, he’s the Falcon! He helped Steve Rogers dismantle HYDRA when they tried to take over S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s how he became an Avenger.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky’s voice dropped a notch. “And you’ve met Captain America himself, but I don’t remember you fangirling over Steve.”

You stumbled over your own feet. Wong pointedly ignored you both, for which you were grateful.

“I-well, that’s different! Steve is… Steve.”

You couldn’t exactly say Steve is your ex, but there it was. Even if you’d met Steve at a time where you hadn’t been spiraling with devastation at Bucky going into the cryo-chamber, the whole thing would have been just as awkward. You liked Steve well enough, especially after you’d had time to get to know him, but he was still Steve Rogers to you. Someone who was important to Bucky in a way that he was different to the rest of the world.

But Sam Wilson… You were going to be working with an Avenger. A bonafide superhero. And you were going to be using your magic the way it should be wielded, not cloistered away in a sanctum.

Your tail twitched, and you grabbed it before it could lift up your short tunic the rest of the way again.

Bucky was immediately distracted, his eyes growing darker as he followed the sudden movement of your tail down to your bare legs.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I get changed before we go to… wherever it is we’re going?”

Wong looked over his shoulder, glanced at your state of undress, and rolled his eyes.

“Very well.”

The three of you made a detour back to your room, or you assumed it was a detour, because you still didn’t know your destination. You paused in the doorway.

“Where are we going?”

“Kamar-Taj,” Wong answered, eyes straight ahead. Down the hallway where you would eventually enter the meeting room that only the Masters used. You’d never been there, or through the magical doors beyond that led to the other Sanctums.

A chill went down your spine, one that was shared as Bucky met your eye, and you didn’t object as he followed you into your room. Nor did you speak when he shut the door, turn to you, and wrapped his arms around your tense shoulders.

He didn’t know the source of your distress, couldn’t know what the Ancient One had told you, but he could feel the results of it anyway.

Wong would have to wait a few minutes more as you allowed yourself to take comfort in Bucky’s steadfast presence. It was the only way you could gather your strength for whatever came next.

Next Chapter

[frostedfaves]

Haunt (4)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Opening up with Wanda comes with more of a consequence than you’re prepared for.

Warnings: angst, discussion of grief and death, car crash mention, hospital, blood, graphic visions, ghosts/demons

A/N: I’m trying not to rush to the most intense part of the plot but please tell me if the story’s moving too slowly! feedback like that is veryyy helpful. also please check out my pinned post! I’m not writing any until I finish this series but I’m accepting them at all times!

Previous part

-

“What are you thinking about?”

Truthfully, Wanda was thinking about last night. About the way you seemed to open up and invite her into your heart, share your fears and desires in a way that showed a level of trust she was honored to have. Until something happened and you were suddenly building walls around yourself that Fort Knox would be jealous of, and this time, that ‘something’ was a nightmare.

A loud gasp startled Wanda awake, even more when she turned over to see you sitting up in bed and breathing heavily. She pulled herself up and placed a hand on your back, scolding herself for acting so quickly when you jumped under her touch.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she informed you, hoping the two of you were at a place where saying this would mean something.

“Sorry, I just...sorry,” you apologized breathlessly.

“It’s okay, babe. It was just a dream,” she assured you, a small smile growing on her lips as she felt you relaxing against her palm’s circular motion.

“I’ll be back, okay?”

You climbed out of the bed and left the room, closing the door behind you. She hated the silence that followed your exit, because it seemed to make her worry more than the moments you spent panicking in front of her for a reason she was afraid to ask for. She checked her phone four times while you were gone, and only three minutes passed until you returned with two glasses of water and one fake smile.

“Nothing,” Wanda tried to convince you, and you put your fork down with a sigh.

“I’m sorry if I scared you last night. I probably should’ve warned you that I have at least one nightmare a week.”

“Everyone has nightmares.” She reached across the table for your hand. “I just wish you wouldn’t hide yourself from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You came back in the room last night like I’m supposed to believe you’re suddenly okay after waking up in the way you did. I want you to be able to talk to me and trust me, which you do sometimes, but then something just seems to reverse all the progress we made.”

She watched as your eyes watered slightly and your shoulders seemed to sag. On one hand, she worried that she’d gone too far, pushed too hard and now you were about to crack under the pressure, and on the other she hoped (and feared) you just might be ready to give her answers. Then your phone rang. You ignored it the first time, but the caller was persistent.

“I should probably take this,” you sighed as you pulled the device from your pocket and Wanda watched you leave the room as quickly as last night.

-

You stopped abruptly on your way back to the dining table, growing a bit worried at the sight of Wanda’s abandoned plate. Seeing her tying her shoes by the apartment door with an unreadable expression was much more terrifying.

“Why are you leaving?”

“I thought maybe you could use some space,” she explained calmly as she stood up again. “I want to know more about you, but I don’t want you to feel cornered every time I ask you a question.”

“Wait!” you called as she went to grab the doorknob, rushing over to grab her other hand. “My best friend died in a car crash.”

There seemed to be a bubble surrounding the chair you were in, keeping the chaos of the emergency department far away from the corner of the waiting room you’d chosen to hide away. The ringing of phones sounded distant and voices muffled, until one seemed clearer than ever.

“Y/N?” 

The voice belonged to the older sister of your best friend, the girl you actually wanted to be with. Of course, there was no way she’d even consider dating you now. She’ll probably hate you until the day she dies when she realizes that you killed--

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Is she dead?” 

You attempted to clear the dryness from your throat as you looked into her watery eyes, sitting right above her glistening cheeks that answered your question before her nodding did. You felt sick, empty-headed and overwhelmed with thoughts at the same time, and it didn’t help that you were now holding hands with your crush as she sat beside you.

“The driver was high. I forgot the name of the drug, but it sounded like something that should not have been in his system while he was driving.” She paused to clean the tear tracks and took a deep breath. “I just want you to know that it’s not your fault, okay? There’s nothing you could’ve done to fix this.”

“I could’ve said ‘I love you’ more.” You dropped your gaze to watch your feet kick against the chair legs. “She thought I didn’t care about her and we were arguing about it just before the crash. If I’d shown her more appreciation, we wouldn’t be arguing and maybe I would’ve seen that driver before he hit us.”

“Y/N, you can’t--”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay.” Her thumb rubbed against your knuckles and your stomach flipped violently. “Did you call your family?”

“They wouldn’t have even come if I did.” You pulled your hand away and got up to leave the hospital, feeling grateful for the fresh air you were greeted with that calmed your nausea enough to drive home.

“She was my favorite person in the world, and her family was there for me when no one else was. I feel like I let them all down by not keeping her safe that night, and the guilt has been heavy in my heart ever since.”

“So that’s why you have nightmares once a week and make people who care about you promise not to get too close to you?” Wanda asked quietly as she squeezed your hand, coming closer to wrap her arms around you when you nodded. “Thank you for telling me this, and I hope you know I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Not even to your house for clothes?” you quipped, laughing as she made a jokingly frustrated noise. “I have a question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Did I pass Pietro’s test last night?” You pulled back a bit to look into her eyes. “I have to assume he’s as protective over you as you are with him.”

“Considering he sent me links to wedding dresses this morning, I think it’s safe to say you did,” she answered you with a chuckle. “Although I think anyone would be a step up after what I dealt with last year.”

“Okay, you have to tell me about this crazy ex of yours!”

“I will, I promise!” she laughed as she fully pulled away from the embrace, keeping hold of your hands as she did so. “But first, I’d like to finish that wonderful meal you made, right after I apologize for almost ditching it.”

So you returned to the dining room table and she waited with an authentic grin as you disappeared into the kitchen to reheat the food on your plates. Your late breakfast passed without incident, and you went with Wanda to check on Alexei again, deciding to join the mother-son duo for a walk in the afternoon sun. Everything felt warm and light again as you went around the block hand in hand, but a quiet voice in the back of your mind told you something was wrong before the one just behind your ear.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

Hearing the words for the first time since your dream startled you, but you managed not to react more than slightly squeezing Wanda’s hand, which she was luckily too preoccupied with fawning over Alexei to notice in the moment. The voice seemed deeper than usual, more aggressive and less patient, and you wondered if you fucked up by telling Wanda the little amount that you did.

“Do you mind if I head home? I just remembered I have one last thing to finish for work tomorrow, and I’d rather get it done early.” Your voice shook slightly in the middle of your sentence, and you could tell she picked up on it by the way she frowned.

“Is everything okay? You’re not shutting down on me again, are you?”

“No, not at all. I’m just kinda nervous because I’m up for a promotion and this project could decide whether or not I get it.” Technically not a lie, but the ‘one thing’ you needed to finish would take five minutes at most.

“Okay, I won’t stop you then.” She tugged on your hand to pull you closer and smiled against your lips as she kissed you, causing you to do the same as she pulled away. “Text me before you go to sleep?”

“Of course.” You went to walk away and frowned slightly when she gripped your hand tighter. “What’s up?”

“Promise you’ll call if you need me tonight. Or any night.”

“I promise,” you told her after a few beats and leaned in to kiss her once more. “Don’t have too much fun without me, kids.”

You finally make your way home after giving Alexei a few goodbye scratches and close the apartment door behind you with a sigh as the familiar phrase floods your ears again. As promised, you finish your work task, but you don’t text or call Wanda when the voice in the corner of the room gets louder.

Instead, you close your eyes and get hit with a dizzying vision instantly. It comes in flashes, but you very clearly see yourself and a shadowy form on a bridge, and another flash brings you to the image of yourself on the street under that same bridge, bones broken and blood pouring. Your eyes fly open as you gasp loudly, and you don’t bother to hold back your scream when you catch sight of the dark figure that’s always been lurking in the corner of your eye. In the light of your bedroom, you could clearly see the battered and bruised body of your best friend slowly raising her damaged arm to point a finger at you.

And for the first time in her life (and death), she looked like she wanted to kill you.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @cristin-rjd @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @creepingwolfberry @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly @thedragonzland @dylxn-lee @cordeliaswhore @ravvakin96 @leximills2004

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror.  No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her.  So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List:  @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[kyoupann]

Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like: 

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels. 

A chunk of his handwriting: 

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your  4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending ­a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk  Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine,  defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life. 

One of his letters would look like this: 

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.-  Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy -  Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write.  He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

[celestiababie]

Too Much Love pt 2- Jaehyun/Yoonoh (m/a)

Genre: angst with suggestive noncon themes, stalker!jaehyun au, college!au

Pairings: jaehyun/yoonoh x reader

Warnings: Stalking, illegal themes, reader is dumb highkey, johnny being johnny

Word count: 920

A/N: I finally decided to make a part 2. I’m not sure how many parts I’m gonna make and they definitely aren’t going to be frequent BUT follow me if you want updates on whether or not I’ll be making more or if you want to read any of the other things I’ll be writing. Btw my requests are open however I prefer answering ones that I can do in drabble format. Thank you for reading

Images of last night flashed through your head as you mindlessly stared at the back of Jaehyun's head as he sat a few seats in front of you. You both were literature majors, which made you wonder why you've never talked to him. You had the same friends, had the same major, and yet you never truly noticed him. You were shocked that you even identified his voice. 

His leg bounced up and down as he kept his head down, anxious thoughts running through his head. He knew he should have never done what he did. He should have never started watching you...he shouldn't have fallen in love with you from afar. Jaehyun could feel your eyes practically burn a hole in his scalp as you watched him intensely. 

Did she call the cops? Did she tell anyone? Oh god, what did I do? She just looked too irresistible. Fuck- the things I would do to that pretty little body if I got the chan- No, no no no, stop thinking that. Jaehyun started to breathe heavy, overwhelmed with being bombarded with his thoughts. A replay of your sleeping body in that silk nightgown rolled through his head over and over, his length hardening in his black jeans. 

Please not now, he thought to himself as he felt himself getting increasingly more aroused as the mesmerizing image refused to go away. 

Doyoung, a mutual friend of yours, looked over at Jaehyun with a concerned look on his face. He leaned his head close to the other male's and whispered, " Dude, are you alright?" 

Jaehyun was started by the voice in his ear and quickly looked over at his friend. He faked a smile and nodded his head. "Yeah, just tired. I didn't get that much sleep last night." Doyoung nodded his head at the response given and patted his back before tuning back into what their professor was saying. You watched this interaction with wide eyes before feeling a wave of anger build up. How dare he act like everything is okay? How dare he trick my friends into thinking he's a good person? 

You balled your hand into a fist but let out a heavy breath as your professor dismissed you and your classmates. You bit your lip nervously as you pulled your phone out to message...him while he packed up his belongings. 

[Sent at 10:45 am] I want to talk to you, stay outside of class.

Jaehyun felt his phone buzz and looked at the message from the unknown number. He felt panic fill his body, immediately thinking the message came from you. There's no way...she doesn't have my number, it can't be her. 

His head turned to look over at you, and sure enough, you were already staring at him with an unreadable expression on your face. Jaehyun silently cursed at himself. His heart rate speeds up as he thinks all the possibilities of what you'd say to him. Would you yell at him for everyone to hear? Maybe this was just a ploy and someone was waiting to arrest him as soon as he walked out of class? 

He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head as he rushed out of the room but waited. 

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves one Jaehyun left the room, your planned out thoughts now leaving your head. You hesitantly made your way out of the classroom, both relieved and nervous when you saw that Jaehyun had waited as you requested. 

Taking another deep breath, you made your best attempt at looking confident as you spoke up, "I know it was you in my room last night, and before you try and deny it, let me speak." Jaehyun looked at you with wide eyes from your blunt words, quickly looking around to make sure no one else heard. "If you're wondering how I got your number, you can thank Johnny for giving it to me. He also told me that you had a crush on me. And let me just tell you that being a fucking creep isn't how you deal with crushes." 

Your brows were furrowed as you spoke to him, Jaehyun listening silently with his head down, guilt and shame flooding his body. 

"I also have the feeling that wasn't the first time you watched me, was it? So, how long, Jaehyun?" You gulped nervously as you anticipated his response, surely this wasn't going on for too long, right? 

As soon as the question left your lips, Jaehyun looked up at you, his jaw clenched as he hesitated to answer. "Nearly a year," he mumbled underneath his breath. "Please..don't tell anyone, please. I know I fucked up and I honestly don't know why you haven't called the cops, but I swear it won't happen ever agai-" His words were cut off once someone slung their arm around his shoulder. 

"So I see you finally got Y/N's attention~" You looked up at the tall male and nervously chuckled. "That he did, Johnny..." 

"You two better thank me when you get married and have six kids." He joked. 

"That's not funny, John," Jaehyun said in a stern voice, frustrated that he couldn't get the privacy he needed. 

"Calm down, Jae, it's just a joke~" The tall male teased before his eyes lit up with an idea. "There's a party tonight. You two should come together! It'll be fun." 

Before Jaehyun could protest, you already spoke up, your response shocking you both. 

"We'll be there."

[criminallyfanatic]

secrets and lies

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N Y/L/N haven’t seen each other since Y/N mysteriously dropped out of Law School right before finals. 16 years later and the meet again as she joins his team at the BAU. Will Aaron finally find out why she left? (set around season 6 time) 

aaron hotchner x reader 

warnings: some swearing and mentions of murder, just your usual criminal minds antics 

a/n - I haven’t written in so long so apologise if it’s not great :) also I have no idea how law school in America works so apologise for any inconsistencies there 

                                                                *

“You have an excellent record Agent (Y/L/N), the BAU would be lucky to have you.” 

She scanned over your file one last time before settling it on her desk, turning her eyes to you. 

“I’m grateful for the opportunity maam” her eyes seemed to stare through you, sizing you up and you shifted slightly in your seat. 

“Good. I’m sure you’ll fit right in, with such an impressive history. You’ll start with Agent Hotchner’s team monday morning.” 

One mention of his name and it felt like your heart stopped. No, this had to be some sort of mistake. 

“Is something wrong, Agent (Y/L/N)?” Her brows furrowed in concern, no doubt noticing the sudden tension that seemed to fill your whole body.

“No, it’s just … when I applied for this job I was told I would be placed on Agent Walters team maam.” please let it be a mistake. Please. 

“I’m afraid you were misinformed. This position is on Agent Hotchner's team. Will that be a problem for you?” 

YES 

“No, not at all. Thank you so much, for this opportunity.” 

FUCK

                                                               *

Just open the door. It’s simple. Just push the door open and walk in. He’s probably not even here. And if he is, he probably wouldn’t even recognise you. Or even remember you. Yeah … 

Fuck 

“Hi!” you jump as someone taps your shoulder, clutching your chest as your heart thunders against it “Oh my god i’m so sorry!” 

You turn, coming face to face with quite possibly the most vibrant woman you have ever met. She offers you a tentative smile, her eyes full of concern, scanning your face for any sign of anger or fear. 

“I’m so sorry,” she reaches out a hand and lays it on your shoulder, “are you alright?” 

“Yes. Sorry. Lost in my own head.” 

She appears relieved, happy she didn’t cause any permanent damage. 

‘Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia” She reaches out a hand for you to shake, her smile returning tenfold. It almost seems to emanate light, like she makes everything around her shine. It was infectious, and you soon found yourself with a similar smile on your face, all awkwardness forgotten 

“Y/N Y/L/N” 

Her eyes seem to triple in size at the mention of your name, her grip on your hand tightening. 

“Oh my gosh you’re the new agent! I just saw your name come through on the system. It’s so great to meet you. I’m Penelope Garcia, the technical analyst,” She’s shaking your hand again, this time quite vigorously, “Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the team.” taking the hand she was shaking she now leads you through the impenetrable glass doors and into the bullpen. 

“Guy, come meet (Y/N)!” with her free hand she waves at a group of agents all huddled around one person's desk. At her call they all turn to look at you, and all of a sudden the anxiety of meeting new people suddenly overwhelms the fear of meeting an old friend. “She’s the newest addition to our wonderful team.” 

Quite suddenly you're enveloped by a swarm of agents, all introducing themselves to you, asking you about your past, your family, your life. And it’s nice. Overwhelming, but nice. They’re all so friendly, and you can tell they’re all so close. Like a family. It puts you at ease and soon you’re laughing along with them. 

“Have I missed a memo or something?” 

The voice comes from behind you, and it feels like someone is pouring a bucket of ice cold water down your back. You feel the tension come flooding back and you daren’t turn around. 

“Hotch, have you met the agent joining our team?” 

Everyone is staring at you, expectant. Your move. 

Just turn around. Get it over with. Like ripping off a plaster.

You can feel his eyes on you, burning holes into your back. JUST TURN AROUND

You turn around. 

“Hey Aaron.” 

                                                                 *

You could practically hear the gears turning in everyone's heads. 

You knew Hotch? How did you know Hotch? HOTCH HAD A LIFE BEFORE THE BAU? 

You drowned them out, focusing entirely on Aaron. For a moment, you could see every emotion on his face, written plainly for you to read. The fear, the surprise … the regret. You always were good at reading him. A moment later he was back to his cold exterior. Unreadable. Unknowable. 

All at once his body jumped into motion. He moved the last few steps towards you, reaching out his hand hesitantly, as if not quite sure how to approach this situation. 

How do you approach this situation? If only he knew just how weird it was 

You took his hand, it practically enveloped yours, and it was so warm, familiar - 

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER 

“It’s good to see you again (Y/N)” 

“Likewise” 

The stares of the other agents came from all sides, clearly trying to decipher just what was happening here. The silence was deafening, the noise of the bustling bullpen just background to the tension and confusion mounting in this one area. You were just waiting for the first brave agent to speak up, to ask the question they all wanted to know the answer to. 

“So how do you two -”

BEEP BEEP 

The shrill sound of the tech analysts phone thankfully cuts off the question that Agent Prentiss had begun to ask. 

“Sorry guys, guess the getting to know you party’s over, we have a case” says Penelope, pouting slightly. 

Ahh saved by the bell 

Despite this, no one seems quite ready to leave just yet, much more happy to linger here and figure out this puzzle. It’s Aaron who moves first. 

“You’re welcome to sit this one out if you want to get acquainted with your surroundings first.” 

“Thank you, Aaron, but I’m ready. Let's get to work.” 

He throws you a swift nod and moves past you, climbing the stairs to the walkway above. Slowly, the other agents follow suit, until you’re left alone with Penelope. 

“Hey, are you alright?” she gently rests a hand on your shoulder, “You seem tense?” 

“I’m fine,” you shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts racing through it, “Just first day jitters.” 

She offers you a small smile, satisfied with your answer. You can tell she’s just dying to ask how you know Aaron, but not quite sure how to bring it up, like she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. 

“We knew each other. In law school. In case you were wondering.” 

“Have you seen him since?” 

“Nope. 16 years since I last saw him.” sixteen very long years

You can tell she knows there’s more to it, but she doesn’t want to push. Not on your first day. You expect that in a couple weeks you will be grilled in depth about your relationship with Aaron, what he was like in College, how well you knew him. But for now she simply nods, happy with this snippet of information she will likely file away and research as soon as she gets back to her office. 

“Come with me Agent (Y/L/N), we have a case to solve.” 

                                                                 *

The case was pretty standard, If you could call a case that. 5 women had been murdered, all brunets, all young and attractive. No doubt some sick bastard had been dumped or rejected at some point in their miserable lives and decided to take it out on anyone who looked the slightest bit like her.  All you had to do was catch him. “From looking at the geographical profile I've deduced that his comfort zone is between these three points, so the odds are that he lives somewhere in here.” “We could increase police presence in these neighbourhoods, might make -" 

you missed the end of the police chiefs sentence as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. 

INCOMING CALL: SOFIA

You feel someone's eyes on you and look up to see Aaron’s questioning gaze. You flash the phone at him and he simply nods his head. You slip quietly from the room, trying not to pull any attention away from the discussion happening around the table, and duck into an alcove. 

“Hey sweetie”

“Hey mom.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to say goodnight. How’s the case going?” 

“It’s good. Well, not good, but it’s certainly going.” you can feel those eyes on you again, and you resist the temptation to look round. Not now, please not now

“Well, I don’t want to keep you if you’re busy, just wanted to touch base.” 

“Ok, well goodnight sweetie, I’ll see you soon. Love you”

“Love you too. Oh and mom.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Kick some bad guy ass.” You laugh at that

“Ok, I will certainly try.” You hang up the phone, still grinning slightly as you glance at the picture on the screen. You and Sofia had spent the day at the beach and she had snapped a picture of the two of you as the sun set, ice creams in hand. You missed her. 

There was a flurry of movement from the room you had just left, everyone grabbing their things and moving to the exit. 

“What’s happening?” you managed to snag Reid’s arm as he walked past. By the look on his face it wasn’t good. 

“They’ve found another body.” 

You felt your stomach drop. You weren’t smiling anymore. 

                                                                 *

Dumped. Like trash. Just something to be thrown away. That’s what he thought of these women. You stared at her body, all crumpled on the floor and you felt the anger bubbling in your stomach. If you stared long enough she started to look like Sofia. A bit older, a bit taller. But the similarities were still there. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head slightly, trying to clear yourself of that mental image. 

No. She’s at home. Safe. 

“Are you alright?” He’s looking at you with that air of concern again and it’s almost too much. You can't bring yourself to look in his eyes, instead opting to look at the wall just over his shoulder. 

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“If you need a minute, a break…”

“I’ll be fine Aaron.” You look at him then, feel the full force of his gaze and it overwhelms you. He can see it in your eyes. His eyebrows furrow and you can see he’s trying to read you, trying to figure out just what's wrong.

Everything. Everything’s wrong. And you don’t even know . 

You feel the tears start to well in your eyes and you force yourself to look away. You can see out the corner of your eye as he begins to reach for you and you hold up your hand. 

Please no. Don’t touch me. I don’t think I could bare it. Then it would be real.

“I’m fine Aaron. Really. It’s just a lot is all.”

“(Y/N) -” 

You walk away before he can probe any deeper, moving to the mouth of the alley, breathing deep from the crisp night air. The tears still sit, threatening to fall and you try to hold them back. 

Not here. Not now. Keep yourself together. 

You feel him coming up behind you again, and you spin, your fear and sadness turning to anger. 

“Aaron I said I’m fine -” 

“Woah don’t shoot it’s just me.” You see Prentiss holding her hands in mock surrender. She lowers them, huffing out a laugh, but regarding you with that self same look of concern. 

What is this look? A BAU special?

“I’d ask you if you’re alright but I don’t especially feel like getting my head blown off. That being said … Are you ok?”

Just like she did a moment ago you let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. 

“Oh god, this isn’t a great first impression is it?” You feel like an idiot. You’re first day and already you’re practically having a breakdown. 

“Don’t worry about it. We all have our moments, our limits. It’s what makes us human.” She lays a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

You can see why they’re all so close. They look out for one another. See when one is hurting. Like a family. 

Family. 

“We’ll get him you know.” She pulls you from your thoughts and you glance back to her, eyes focussing on the here and now. 

“I know.” 

You share a small smile and you begin to truly believe it. 

                                                                *

And catch him you did. You had figured out he was stalking and abducting women from their homes. He saw them at work, in a coffee shop, at the mall. One look and he already knew he wanted to kill them. The trick was finding them after he had abducted them. And without any physical evidence to even hint to who this man might be it seemed an impossible task. 

But he slipped up. He left a trace. Whether that was the increased police presence, the fact that the FBI were there or just the fact that he was getting sloppy. It didn’t matter. You had DNA. And a name. 

Charles Manes. We're coming for you. 

For a man unhinged he was surprisingly easy to take down. He just gave himself up, that shit eating grin on his face as he did it. The last woman he had abducted was laying on the floor, bound and gagged. You ran over to her, pulling the rope from her body and helping her to sit up. She began sobbing and you held her against you as she cried, rubbing soothing circles on her back. 

“You’re ok. You’re safe now.” 

The paramedics took her from you and led her outside, ready to take her to the hospital. You followed after, stopping by the front door and leaning against the frame, taking a moment. You felt a presence beside you and turned to see Rossi watching her get loaded into the ambulance. 

“We did good.” he said, not even glancing towards you, “She’ll be alright.” 

“Eventually.” You took a deep sigh, feeling yourself start to relax. A commotion made you both look and you saw Charles fighting with the officers trying to load him into the police car. It seemed Aaron saw too as in a flash he was by their side, helping to get him in without causing any more damage. 

You felt your body tense, felt Rossi glance at you questioningly. 

“Everything alright agent?” 

How do they do this? They barely even know me! Stupid profilers. 

“Never better.” You said, glancing back at him over your shoulder as you made your way to the SUV’s, to the rest of the team. 

“We got him,” Prentiss clapped you on the shoulder as you passed, headed to the second SUV, “let’s go home.” 

                                                                 *

You had to admit, travelling by jet was quite the experience. What wasn’t as fancy was the great pile of paperwork waiting for you at the other end. You’d only just started but already you were swamped. 

You sat at your desk. Penelope had laid out your things whilst you all were away. “I just wanted you to feel more at home here when you got back”. It was sparse, but functional. She had even left you a post-it note with a cute message on and a unicorn stress toy, “You didn’t have any pictures, so I wanted to liven the place up a bit, I hope you like it.” 

Right. No pictures. Wonder why. 

The paperwork loomed and you tried to stay focused, eager to go home, but as the words began to merge into one another you knew it was time for coffee. 

Another long night it is then. 

You thought about calling Sofia, letting her know you would be late back. Would she even still be up? Who are you kidding, of course she is. 

Might as well call her. A break from paperwork might do me some good. 

You reached into your desk drawer to take out your phone. 

“Y/N can I speak to you for a moment in my office?” 

Maybe not then. 

He was looking down at you from the walkway, not quite meeting your eyes. He seemed fidgety, like he couldn't decide whether to cross his arms or put them in his pockets or lean against the bannister. 

Nervous. Interesting. 

“Of course.” You walked up the stairs to where he stood and he motioned for you to go inside and take a seat. He lingered by the door for a moment before pushing it closed and making his way around the desk and sitting in his chair, hands steepled before him on the desk. He regarded you for a moment and you felt your heart skip. It felt like he was x raying you, like he could see into your mind, into the thoughts racing about in there. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to escape his gaze, or at least prompt him into talking. Anything to break the silence. 

“I just wanted to check in on you, your first case and all. You’ve done some exceptional work and I can see you being an excellent asset to this team.” 

“Thank you. I can see that I’m going to enjoy working with this team.” 

He simply nodded, nothing more to say, but you could see in his face he wasn’t done. Not really. 

Is that really all you want to say? Come on Aaron spit it out. I can see it in your eyes. Maybe this will make it easier on the both of us, if we just blurt out what we have to say at the same time. Or would that wreck you even more? Either way I’m the bad guy. But I can’t keep this to myself. You need to know. You want to know. So just ask. 

“Why did you leave?” he blurted it out suddenly and it shocked you, and by the look on his face it shocked him too 

“I’m sorry what?” 

He gained back some of his composure, steeling himself before asking again.

“Why did you leave law school. Right before finals you just up and left. No letters, no reason just there one minute gone the next. I tried to find out something, anything but no one knew-” You could tell he was working his way up to something. 

Come on. Ask me. Make this easier on me. Blame yourself, so when I tell you the truth it will hurt less. Because you know why. Or at least part of it. 

“If you left because of what I did I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to drive you away. It was stupid and immature and if that is why I am truly sorry.” 

Oh god, I thought if I heard you admit it, it wouldn’t hurt as much to tell you the truth. To hurt you like you did me. But it’s worse, so much worse. Because you’re sorry. And I’m the villain. The one who didn’t tell you. 

You could feel the tears falling down your face, slipping onto the hands wound tightly in your lap. His face was breaking too, and you couldn’t bare to look at it a moment longer.  

“Y/N -” he reached across the desk for you but you held up your hand to stop him, just like in the alleyway. 

“Please. Don’t.”

“If this is because of me I’m so sorry. If you want I can get you a transfer. If you can’t work with me we can sort this out.”

That's right, the cowards way out. Just keep avoiding this conversation till you eventually die. 

Just tell him. Get it over with. Rip off the bandaid. 

“Please stop. Just stop. It’s not your fault. I mean, it was, partly, but it wasn’t. And when I tell you why you will probably hate me, and can take that. I deserve it. And if you want to transfer me out, get rid of me I understand. But when you left me, to go back to Haley it broke me. I hated you. I hated you with everything I had and I thought the best way to punish you was to just not tell you. But over the years I’ve realised how stupid I was, how selfish and foolish I was to not tell you. All because of some petty relationship drama.”

His look of confusion morphed into one of understanding and horror. Like he had connected the dots in his head but wasn’t quite ready to admit to what they all added up to. He was as far away from you as possible. Like you stood before him with a bomb and he was waiting for it to go off. And you were. 

“I was pregnant Aaron. I was pregnant and I never told you. I just left. And I’m so sorry.” 

Your whole body was shaking as you dissolved fully into tears, not daring to look at him, to no doubt see the anger and the disgust written on his face. Disgust at how stupid and selfish you were. 

Not telling someone they have a daughter. How evil can you be. 

You heard your name spoken softly from the chair beside you. You hadn’t even seen him get up. But he reached for you again, and this time you let him, let him pull you into his arms, rest your head against his chest as you cried and cried, spilling tears onto his white shirt. He rested his chin on top of your head, rubbing soothing circles onto your back, rocking you slightly. 

No. This is wrong. This is all wrong. You should hate me for what I’ve done, I’m despicable. 

“Aaron.” You brought your head up from his chest, finally looking at his face. He didn’t look angry or disgusted, he just looked … sad.  

“It’s alright.” He gently brushed some of the tears from your face, one hand coming to rest on your cheek, “It’s ok.” 

“It’s not ok Aaron. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I kept this from you.” 

The hand on your cheek fell away, coming to rest instead on your hand, holding it in his. 

“You must hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“Well I hate myself.” 

“This isn’t your fault”

“Isn’t it?” 

“I screwed up. We both did. But I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me about this. I drove you away and I broke your heart. We both made mistakes. But we can fix them now.”

The way he said, the way he seemed to stare into your soul, made you truly believe you could. 

“Tell me about them. Tell me everything.” 

And so you did. You told him everything about Sofia. How excited she was to go into her junior year next year. How she liked to eat pancakes on saturdays and drink tea because it made her feel fancy. You told him how she cries at soppy movies and how you would always make time for mother daughter dates. And he listened to every moment of it, every little detail. And it pained you that he never knew any of this. That he never got to see her grow up. But maybe now he could get some of that time back. Still have a relationship, make some memories with her. 

“I want to meet her.” 

“I want that too.” 

And you felt some understanding pass between the two of you. That whatever had happened in the past was over with. Now, what was important, more than anything else, was family. 

[drops-of-jupiter-on-a-ravenclaw]

Queer!Sam headcanon

So basically Sam always knew he was different from Dean in how he views people and relationships. In college, he learns about different labels and has a bit of a moment when he realizes that that's the thing he felt that made him different

He doesn't find the label that fits him best but he knows he is more than open to being in a relationship with a man. He's just content to have figured it out so he can feel more normal about it. Anyways, he has Jess and he loves her so it doesn't matter much.

Only that before he knows it, he doesn't have Jess anymore. She accepted and loved him and he doesn't think he'll ever be that happy again. So he's back on the road with his brother. His brother who doesn't know.

He still doesn't have a label and he is so caught up in his grief for Jess that saying anything to Dean would just be unnecessary and complicated. So he doesn't.

And they are on the road for a while. It's just easier for him to pick up women as it is, he tells himself. It doesn't help that he still doesn't have any experience with men and it feels kinda late to start now. (He knows Jess would call him a dumbass for thinking that way. He misses her.)

Anyways, he doesn't look stereotypically queer and only rarely gets a second look from some gay guys who must have outstanding gaydars. He always freezes before he can smile back.

Dean only notices on a subconscious level. He even makes fun of Sam by calling him gay for being too emotional. Sam almost laughs every time, he's not emotional cause he's gay. He's in touch with his emotions because he had to do a lot of soul-searching to figure out that he's gay. So yeah, Dean is spot on and oblivious at the same time because Sam doesn't fit his image of 'queer', he never really sees it.

This goes on for ages. Sam had already resigned himself to never saying anything about that part of himself when they get a case in the middle of nowhere and run into a guy Sam knows from College. Worse than that, a guy who was in the lgbt group he and Jess joined for a few meetings. A guy with dimples and a smile to die for who is smart enough to give Sam a run for his money.

Naturally, Dean won't stop teasing him for freezing up when the guy talks to them while simultaneously thinking it's probably just because Sam is embarrassed that he never actually finished law school.

Meanwhile the guy, let's call him Sebastian, is just delighted to see Sam again and won't stop talking to him, no flirting with him, Sam realizes. Dean is having a field day just watching the whole interaction and Sam is praying to the universe itself that Sebastian won't accidentally out him.

Thankfully the guy wasn't in Stanford for nothing and gets the hint. He doesn't out Sam, but he keeps flirting to keep him on edge. At first, Sam kind of resents him for what he represents.

They keep working the case, Sam wants to skip town as quickly as possible but he also kind of doesn't which is objectively worse. Dean won't leave him the fuck alone and he is really not having a good time anymore. Everything about him he had buried a while ago threatens to rise. They just keep running into Sebastian who is working on their case but as a lawyer. He suspects something is up and keeps trying to follow them.

Sam is torn between wanting to see him and wanting him gone, flattered by the attention and uncomfortable with it. Once, Sebastian catches him alone and asks him why he doesn't want to come out to Dean. He assures Sam that living as one's true self is always better, even if it's complicated sometimes. And Sam believes it because he knows it's true. He doesn't get a chance to answer because Dean interrupts them but now Sebastian is firmly on his mind and won't leave.

The case turns a little heated, law enforcement figures out that they aren't actually cops. Sebastian is there as they get questioned. He suspects that something weird is going on and manages to request a minute alone with the brothers.

He wants to hear them out on a gut feeling, even though he doesn't really trust them anymore. He also still flirts with Sam despite not having gotten a response so far. Only that now there is a certain bite behind it rather than the usual charm because he does think that Sam might be guilty despite not wanting to believe it.

Only that then, Sam has officially had enough for the week. He sits up straight and holds eye contact, and he flirts back.

Dean's jaw is practically on the floor at this point. Sebastian just gets kinda pissed off that after all his chances Sam chooses to take him up on it now of all times. It's enough to make him listen to Sam who swears they are innocent and that they can prove it. The Cop hears the last part as he walks back into the room and is visibly not impressed.

Sebastian believes him enough to call in a couple of favors though, he gets them out temporarily and swears he'll lock them back up if they can't prove their innocence but Sam just genuinely thanks him and doesn't react to any show of emotion, again.

They drive to the crime scene. The entire time Sam hears Dean's comments from the police station ring through his head. 'The one time you are the one to flirt us out of a situation and its with a dude. Seriously don't you feel kinda dirty?' He had said it jokingly enough, mostly trying to stifle his awe at Sam's sheer audacity and the ridiculousness of their situation.

But it hadn't made Sam feel bad. Like at all. The fact that Sebastian trusted him enough to give them that chance left him feeling warm and fuzzy even though the man's expression at the moment was anything but.

It had felt good to answer rather than just permit what was happening to him, it had felt good to see Dean's smug expression knocked off his face, it had felt good to say what he'd been thinking since they first ran into Sebastian. And if Sebastian looked just the slightest bit flustered in his surprise then that was just another bonus.

"Handcuffs look good on you, Sam. It's a shame the circumstances aren't different or I'd appreciate the view a lot more."

"Well, I'd say let's have dinner first but as you can see, I'm a bit tied up at the moment. If you get us out of here, however, I think you could enjoy more than just the view."

He wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him but he didn't regret it. Dean seemed to have decided it was a purely tactical move on Sam's part and Sam was okay with that. Though obviously it just added fuel to Deans teasing. His suggestive comments reaching new heights, no matter how murderous a glare Sam shoots him.

Finally, they get back to the crime scene but the monster is there too. They are just done explaining their proof to a skeptical Sebastian when it attacks again. Obviously, a desperate and bloody fight ensues. The thing attacks Sam and Sebastian shoots it, which just makes it angry. It turns to attack him instead, Dean tries to stop it and gets thrown around. At the very last second, Sam figures out what to do and kills the thing (by, idk, stabbing it with the bone of a previous victim?)

Whatever happened in the blur of the fight, by the end of it they all are thoroughly shaken. Sebastian got hurt pretty badly and Sam ends up half carrying him outside. Dean got away with a sprained ankle, he and Sam were both covered in scratches and bruises though. Naturally, Dean jokes right away that Sam should start thinking of ways to make what happened up to Sebastian, Sam just shoots him a look.

Once they had brought a safe distance between them and the chaos, Sebastian had started to feel better. He thanks them but he also demands further explanations, this time they give him full truth. He is also still clinging to Sam, going for more physical contact than necessary even though he stopped with the flirting. Sam just lets him and quietly figures that the guy won't be interested in him anymore after what happened. He lets himself enjoy the closeness while it lasts.

Dean is watching them with an unreadable expression but he doesn't call Sam out on it. After a while of just sitting in his car with them in the backseat, he starts to get uncomfortable with all of their staring. He asks Sebastian where they should drop him off and quickly makes it clear that he intends to skip town early the next morning. Sam feels dread settle over him.

They reach Sebastian's place and watch him get out. The car door had just closed behind him when Dean made one last joke, telling Sam to kiss his damsel in distress goodnight before they move on. Similar to how he felt in the police station, Sam has had enough. His jaw tenses and the last of his resolve melts away. Dean will just have to deal, he decides.

With one last glare at his brother, he gets out of the car in a split second and decides to do just that. He stops Sebastian just a few steps further down the sidewalk. His brain hasn't really caught up to what he is about to do just yet, stuck again on what Sebastian had said about being true to oneself and on how pretty the man's sharp features look under the streetlight as he glances up at Sam, eyes wide with surprise.

"I don't want to hide anymore," Sam blurts out. Quickly followed by, "I'm sorry I didn't flirt back sooner, for what it's worth, I really really wanted to." That earns him the biggest smile he could have hoped for and before he knows what's going on, he is being kissed by soft lips and his hands are pulling somebody elses' suit jacket closer to him. It's soft and desperate at the same time, they both still have blood on their faces and fear in their bones and it's perfect.

Just as Sam finds himself thinking how well worth the wait this was and how he never wants it to end, somebody presses down on their car's horn. Hard. He sighs and pulls away, already knowing it's Dean who is having his world view flipped. Sam refuses to feel bad.

Foreheads resting against one another, Sebastian asks him to come inside with him. Sam agrees.

Fighting the urge to flip off his brother as they approach the house, he shoots him a self-satisfied smirk over his shoulder instead. There's still time to face the consequences in the morning, he decides.

It's more than just a momentary attraction though, this man is somebody who understands Sam, who knew Jess. Weirdly enough, he thinks Jess would have approved.

He thinks about how Jess always swore bookclub was boring and went every week anyways. He thinks about how Sebastian did the same, up until Jess died he knows now, insisting that it was no fun without her sarcastic commentary. Sebastian didn't mention how he still can't pick up a copy of pride and prejudice without tearing up.

He thinks about how they had so much in common back at Stanford and how much his life has changed since then, but he hasn't changed. Not in the ways that had made them connect in the first place at least.

That's probably another reason for him to go with Sebastian. Had it just been anybody, he would have let it all slide in favor of not coming out to Dean but it's been too long since he felt a connection with anybody. Something tells him Sebastian feels the same and he wonders how the other mans life has changed, if he too sometimes felt like nobody knew him.

When you fight one apocalypse after the next, there is no need to discuss whether you prefer reading Hemmingway or Wilde. But that was what Sam has always wanted, the privilege and freedom of having genuine discussions about trivial things and essentially the time to care about them.

Of course Dean knew him, they knew each other, they'd go to the end of the world for each other. They just don't have particularly much in common beyond that. If he attempts to discuss books with Dean, he will get smacked over the head with the book he's talking about. And really he can't even blame Dean for not having the energy it takes to pretend to care. It's just how their lives are but Sam can still want something more.

He texts Dean to pick him up in the morning and quickly loses his jacket, eager to get his hands back on everything he knows he can't have.

It wasn't until almost fifteen minutes later as Sebastian was pushing him down on his mattress (with the lights on and in perfect view of the window, he realized the next morning) that he heard the rumble of the Impalas engine as it left the driveway behind. Then and there, he really didn't give a damn.

________________________________________

(Part two coming soon)

Part two will focus on Deans reaction and the morning after btw

I know there is only a really small fanbase for this kind of ficlet but damn I had fun writing it. No wonder it's much longer than it was supposed to be *sigh*. Feedback is more than welcome!

[gaylotusthatexists]

lost and returned

fandom: sanders sides

pairing: brotherly creativitwins

prompt: missing and presumed dead

trigger warnings: sympathetic remus, injuries, talk of death, drowning mention, past bad family relations, being kicked out

word count: 1942

taglist: @theloveliestsweetspongy

a/n: hey! so it’s been a while since i did one of these haha. i remembered about this the other day and looked over my card and was hit with sudden inspiration, so here we are :) hope y’all enjoy this~ (requests for any prompt that hasn’t been done yet are still open btw) this is written for the @badthingshappenbingo

ao3

It had been five years since Remus disappeared into the night. Roman had given up hope four years ago.

At first he thought that Remus might come back, no matter how many times his parents said he wouldn’t. He wanted Remus to come back, he missed his brother so much. Even if Remus was mean to him sometimes, that’s just what brothers were like. Even if his parents always said that Remus was just a hassle, that Remus was better off gone.

Roman wondered sometimes what it would be like if he were the one to disappear. Would his parents think the same of him as they did Remus? Surely not, they always said that they loved Roman. They never really said that about Remus.

He remembered the moment he gave up hope as clear as day. A body had been found in the river near their house, a teenage boy, the same age as Remus would have been, a similar description as well. His parents never said anything about it, but Roman noticed that weird, regretful look pass over their faces whenever it was mentioned, and the way they always told Roman to stay away from the river, to stay safe.

Occasionally Roman would go out and look, when his parents weren’t around. He never found Remus, or even a body - he supposed the body would have been taken away anyway, but a part of him hoped that maybe Remus had made it out. He knew that was stupid, impossible, but...

He just wanted his brother back.

Five years later, and Roman had moved out, moved in with a couple friends. He’d almost forgotten about Remus, about the boy who had supposedly drowned, mostly gotten over his lost twin. Remus was dead, most likely - if not in reality, in Roman’s mind at least.

So, when Remus showed up on Roman’s doorstep, soaking wet and drenched in blood, his reaction was perfectly reasonable. A scream, a slammed door, and a horrified expression.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked, immediately rushing into the hallway. Roman had sunk down to the floor, holding his head in his hands and trying to push that image out. Surely that hadn’t been real, right? It must have been a ghost, and... ghosts weren’t real, he must have just imagined it.

But then someone knocked on the door again, and Roman couldn’t say that wasn’t happening. He breathed in and out as Patton went to answer the door instead, Roman shuffling to the side and craning his neck to look at the person on the other side. Not his brother, surely not his brother.

“Oh, uh-“ Patton plastered on a smile. “I don’t- Are you okay?”

“Roman lives here, right?” the person said. He sounded exactly like Remus, looked exactly like Remus, and Roman was terrified.

“Yes, um-“ Patton glanced down at Roman, then back up at the Remus lookalike. “Do you want to come in? Or, uh, I don’t know, let us drive you to the hospital, or something?”

Not-Remus’ eyes widened and he shook his head, long hair falling in front of his eyes, sticking to his skin. Remus’ hair hadn’t been that long the last time Roman had saw him, and this person had a silver strip, which Remus did not have, so perhaps this wasn’t Remus after all.

Patton just blinked. “No to coming inside, or no to the hospital?”

“Hospital,” Not-Remus clarified.

Patton gave him a soft smile. “Ok. Well, uh, just come on in, I’ll go get Logan to patch you up. Roman, take him to the front room, will you?” Before Roman had chance to protest, Patton had moved further into the house.

He really did look like Remus. Older, less innocent, damaged, but Remus nonetheless. And Roman wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Not-Remus said. “I- You are Roman, right? My brother?”

“My... name is Roman, yes.” He didn’t want to admit that he was his brother, because this was not Remus. Remus was long gone, and nothing would change that. Still, he slowly stood up, and began to lead Not-Remus into the front room, where he allowed him to sit down on the sofa. He looked defeated, tired, and Roman couldn’t help but notice how his shoulders were shaking. “What’s- What’s your name?” Roman asked, hoping that he wouldn’t say Remus, anything other than Remus. He’d rather have some old one-night-fling show up than his long lost twin who was supposed to be dead.

“You’re joking, right?” was all Not-Remus said in response. Roman tried his best to breath. “It’s Remus. You know. Your brother.”

Roman shook his head. “No. No - my- my brother died four years ago.”

Not-Remus frowned. “Did I? Shit, really?”

Roman’s eyes fell to the floor. “I-“

“I don’t feel like I’ve died.” He hummed. “Hey, if I’m dead and a ghost now, do you think I can walk through walls? That’d be fucking awesome.”

“You’re...” Roman breathed in. “Tell me something only Remus would know.”

There was a long pause, before Remus grinned. “We found a salamander once in the river behind our house, and you kept it in our room for, like, two weeks before we had to get rid of it before Dad found out. We named him Sir Sala of Waterlogs. He was bright orange and enjoyed eating flies, although I’m not actually sure if it was supposed to do that. We tried feeding it Doritos one time but that did not go well.”

Roman felt like he was about to cry. No one else would know about that, so unless Remus had told someone (which was unlikely, Remus had just as little friends as Roman did) this was the real deal. He slowly made his way over, sitting down besides Remus and holding out his arms, checking to see if Remus was okay with a hug. He’d always been okay with hugs, always craved them, but Roman had always made sure as well, just in case. Remus sank into his arms, just as he always did when they were younger, and Roman failed to stop himself from crying.

He soon drew away from Remus, though, who wasn’t smiling like Roman was. He looked... sad. Defeated. And Roman didn’t know what to do with that.

“What happened?” Roman found himself asking, moving away a little.

Remus breathed in. His shoulders were still shaking, even worse than before. “Too much.” He didn’t seem willing to go much further into it.

Eventually, Patton returned with Logan, who, whilst a little confused, went to clean up Remus’ injuries - they were as bad as they looked, just a few small cuts on his shoulders and face, which Logan quickly bandaged up. There wasn’t much they could do about anything else, though - the bags under his eyes, the light fading from his once bright eyes, the way he bounced his legs and clenched his fists. Something had happened, someone had hurt him, and Roman wanted to know who, so that he could go over there and murder them.

“May I ask what happened?” Logan eventually asked, breaking the silence and causing Remus to stop moving. He glanced over at Roman, fear in his eyes, and maybe things were even worse than Roman thought. He’d never seen Remus look so afraid.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Roman told Logan.

Logan moved his eyes over to Roman. “Can you, then?”

Roman thought for a moment. “He’s my brother. Remus. I, uh, he disappeared five years ago, I don’t- I don’t know what happened, he’s not telling me either.”

“Brother?” Patton repeated, frowning.

“Disappeared?” Remus also repeated, sounding... shocked.

Roman just blinked. “Yeah? I- I searched for you for ages, but you never showed up. And our parents refused to even talk about you. Like, it was like you’d never even existed.”

Remus scowled. “That’s because they fucking kicked me out.”

They... what? “I-“

“Did you not know that?”

Roman shook his head. “No. You- You just disappeared. They never... They never said anything like that. Why would they do that?”

Remus laughed. “Seriously? Why wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know.” Roman stared down at his knees, pulling his legs up onto the sofa. “You were fifteen.”

Remus stayed silent. He lost his smile, face moulding into an unreadable expression.

“Where have you been all these years?” Roman asked, now more... scared, for his brother. He wanted to know that he had been safe. Needed to know he was safe.

“Around,” Remus replied. “I... I was living with some friends for a while, then... uh, some more people. And then, I...” He trailed off.

There was silence for a while, and Roman didn’t want to make Remus share anymore than he was comfortable with. Yes, he wanted to know what had happened, but... Remus could tell him in his own time.

“Who did this to you?” Roman asked instead, gesturing towards Remus’ injuries.

Remus shook his head, biting back tears. “I don’t know. I was... I don’t know. I got hurt and this was the only place I could go to.”

Roman breathed in and out, trying to take that in. He had a feeling that Remus was lying, but didn’t say anything about it. “How did you even know that I was here? I haven’t talked to you for years, Remus.”

Remus gulped. “I saw you walking around here a few weeks ago. S-Saw you coming in here. I didn’t want to say anything to you because... I-I don’t know, I was scared that you’d hate me just as much as... as...” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Roman had a terrible feeling that he meant to say their parents.

“You’re here now,” Patton said, softly. He reached a hand out to Remus knee and patted it gently, to which Remus broke out a small smile. “You can stay as long as you need to.”

Silence again. Roman glanced around the room. “Could you leave us for a moment, please?” he asked his housemates. They both nodded, and left the room. He turned back to Remus, who had once again lost his smile. “Are you okay?”

Remus shook his head.

“Can I... do anything about that?”

He paused, then shook his head again.

“Okay.” Roman breathed in. “Are you in danger?”

Remus snorted. “When am I not?”

Okay, that was just a little concerning, but Roman tried not to think too much about it. Remus had always been somewhat chaotic as a kid, always getting into trouble and making a mess of things, so perhaps things just hadn’t changed that much. Yeah.

“Are you... sure that I can stay here?” Remus asked, his voice quiet.

Roman’s face softened. “Of course.” He scooted closer. “Why wouldn’t I let you?”

Remus shrugged. “Most people don’t let me stay long. And- And, I don’t know. You never tried to stop me from leaving before.”

“Because I didn’t know,” Roman defended. “I looked for you, really. Every day I was out searching for you, but I could never find you. I- I was always so confused about why our parents were never looking for you.”

Remus stopped breathing for a second, before breathing out. “Please don’t tell them I’m here.”

“I won’t,” Roman promised. “Trust me, I haven’t spoken to them in ages.”

“Good.” Remus looked over at him, his eyes now beginning to fill with hope. Things were going to be okay. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” He opened his arms again, and Remus moved into the hug, relaxing in his brother’s arms as Roman began to run his fingers in circles on his upper arm, just below the bandages. “You’re okay.”