#I have been inside victims homes to talk with them all of this all alone

[madigoround]

✌🏻

[mydear-corinthian]

not you, please

synopsis - wherein the reader was kidnapped by the unsub that hotch and the team were investigating.

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader / aaron hotchner x wife!reader

warnings - ANGST w/ comfort, reader being kidnapped and tortured, blood, typical criminal minds talk/content, use of aaron and hotch separately

notes - a tad long (w.c <2300), gif & picture isn't mine, divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

"Where is she?" Hotch's deep and frustrating voice echoed throughout the interrogation room. He was alone, wanting to talk to the now-caught criminal, wanting the offender to know your whereabouts.

It's been two days since you went missing. You were just doing your usual grocery for the week not until you went to the parking lot and you felt a damped cloth covering your mouth and nose. You accidentally inhale the chemicals on it making your muscles and bones tired, and your eyes shut down completely.

When you woke up, you felt a cold metallic wrap-feeling around your wrists. Your hands were hung up while you stood; your body felt weaker than ever. As you looked down on your body, bruises and fresh scars painted all over your stomach and legs. You want to cry. Cry for the pain. Cry because you know that you won't be able to see your husband again.

Hotch came home after a long tiring work. He gently hung his suit coat on the rack as he called your name. Once he did, Hotch didn't hear an answer. He thought that you were asleep since it was already midnight. Hotch went upstairs to your shared room and knocked softly before entering. His eyes widened at the sight: the bed was empty. Hotch quickly ran downstairs, searching every room there is inside the house. Hell, he even checked the backyard.

You weren't there.

Hotch immediately grabbed his phone, dialing your number. Unfortunately, it went directly to voicemail making his heart drop.

Hi, this is (Y/n)! I'm afraid I cannot be on the phone right now. Just leave a message and I'll reply as soon as I can.

Your voice helped him a bit but it's the fact that it's just a voicemail. He cannot help but think where were you?

That's when he remembered.

Earlier in his shift, he recalled how the team got a new case. Four women were tortured and murdered with the same hair and eye color as yours.

"No, that's not possible.." Not you, please.." he thought to himself.

Hotch grabbed his car keys and drove to the BAU office right away. When he entered the office, he ran immediately and went inside the elevator. Hotch called everyone: Reid, Garcia, Morgan, J.J, Prentiss, and Rossi.

"I need you all to be here. It's an emergency." Hotch stated and dropped the call after.

After five minutes, everyone was in the conference room, standing up and looking at Hotch.

"What happened?" Morgan was the first to ask.

"(Y/n) was abducted. I suspect this morning." Hotch replied, trying to keep his composure. He may appear normal or he's showing no feelings at all but deep down, his mind is punching him with all the possibilities on where are you and what happened. Are you okay? Do you have any injuries? Or worse, are you still alive?

He knows that people who go missing die within the first 24 hours since they went missing. For the first time, Hotch disregard the statistics. He won't accept any of it.

"I am sure it has to do with the case we had this morning. (Y/n) has the same characteristics as the victims. (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c)." Hotch added.

"Oh my god.." Garcia commented, covering her mouth in shock.

"We'll help you, Hotch," J.J. said, her eyes showing a trickle of sadness.

Everyone in the BAU loved you. They were shocked knowing that both of you were dating despite your different personalities. Whenever there was a tough case, you would give them homemade cookies— especially Emily since you know how much she loves them— and you usually wait for Aaron to finish his paperworks in his office and you chat with Spencer. Listening to all the statistics and facts that he gives. You were the one who helped J.J. during her pregnancy, you gifted her how many boxes of diapers and other baby items during her bridal shower. You learned how to make Italian dishes with Rossi and Aaron loved every single dish of them. Derek and Penelope kept on asking for dating tips and even going out and parties with them. For them, you're a part of the BAU now. You're their family.

"I'll trace her phone. To see where her last location was." Garcia immediately started, leaving the room, and went to her computer lair.

"I'll talk to the neighbors to see if they saw her." Emily and Derek said.

"I'll go and try to mark a location up," Spencer said, standing up and going to the other room.

Rossi walked towards the scared and worried Hotch, patting him on the back, "We'll find her, Aaron."

-

"Look who's awake! Took you long enough," the unsub laughed, there was a small knife in his hand.

"Let me go!" you panted, your arms wiggling against the cold and handcuffs. Tears were starting to form in your eyes.

The unsub was getting closer to you until you felt his hot breath on your neck, whispering things that you wish you could not hear. With all of your strength, you kicked his stomach making him tumble backward.

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" he laughed.

His knife trailed down to your thighs, caressing it before stabbing you. You let out a scream as you felt it pinch to your skin.

"Please— stop!" you begged.

"You know, the last person who was there in your place died," he said. "If you don't want to end up like her then behave!"

You didn't protest, you want to live. Your mouth let out a series of whimpers and sobs. The unsub laughed, showing no remorse or guilt for what he had just done he enjoyed it.

Another man came inside whatever room you were in. He wasn't in shape, unlike the man who tortured you. There you know what is happening.

Two unsubs.

One is highly intelligent; the one who plans all the murders. The other one is physically strong but has no brains. The stronger man works for the other guy.

You learned it from your husband. You let him debrief heavy cases and also Aaron gives you some tips and tricks whenever you're in a dangerous situation— which he hopes won't happen but it's better to be cautious and be prepared.

"Good job finding her, Eric. I'll go somewhere to buy more tools for this lady over here." the smarter unsub said.

Eric nodded in response, facing back to you as he smiled diabolically with a small cutter in his hands.

When his duo left, all you felt was pain when the cutter went back again to your skin, cutting you slowly. Your vision started to get woozy. You lost your balance before your whole vision started going back.

-

It's finally been 24 hours since you went missing.

Aaron was mentally and emotionally dissolved. He and the whole team were in the conference room, looking at Garcia on the small screen of the laptop, hoping to get an address or a name.

Please, Garcia.. Please

"I got an address!" Penelope shouted, making everyone including Aaron stand up.

"Where?" Aaron asked immediately, his foot tapping anxiously.

"So, I searched stores who had customers previously bought knives, ropes, cutters, and all those horrifying items," she responded. Aaron's heart sank when she mentioned those items. Torture items. "—There were a lot of people who bought it—welcome to America— but this is what I suspiciously found. I reviewed this store's CCTV footage and I kept on seeing the same man coming inside the store twice a week for almost a month who brought the same items: rope, butcher's knives, small cutters, staplers, shovels, and some.. handcuffs... What's weird is that he doesn't look like the person who is physically fit to do gardening, carpentry, digging stuff and all."

"Can you identify the man, baby girl?"

"I already did. The name is Fred Silverstone. He's 5'7 tall, white, he owns a grey Adventure pickup. He's still inside the store! The address is Building 2 Kennedy Store just by Palm Street."

As soon as the team received the address, all of them went to their SUVs and drove. Derek and Rossi were with Aaron. He wanted to drive but Rossi was faster than him. Rossi began to drive at a fast speed, trying to catch the possible unsub and you in time.

Once they arrived, Aaron didn't hesitate to run inside the store with a gun in his hand and a bulletproof vest on his chest to protect him.

"John Silverstone, freeze!" Aaron yelled, pointing his gun at him when he finally saw John about to leave the store with a cart full of torture items.

"Raise your hands where I can see them!"

John raised his hands in defeat. Derek grabbed his handcuffs behind his belt and stated the Miranda Rights with anger.

-

Hotch didn't waste his time to interrogate John. He tried screaming at him. Yell at him. Yet John didn't say a word to where are your whereabouts. Unfortunately, the man didn't speak for almost 16 hours. He was quiet. He was smart.

"Oh, you're not talking? Then let's talk about your wife. She's the stressor, right? You kidnap women with the same features as your wife because she left you. And when she tried to leave you, you killed her? Isn't that right?"

"Shut up!" John yelled. "You know, Agent.. your wife.. she's pretty." the sound of your name being mentioned lit up flames to his whole body. Jesus, he wants to punch that man right now.

"You know what I did to my wife? I strangled her before slowly but satisfactorily cutting her from head to toe in that fucking basement of her home. Who knows! Your wife will be like that in a few minutes." he laughed manically.

Hotch's anger rose even higher. A lump in his throat was starting to form. When the unsub finally gave a clue to your location, Garcia searched the house of John's ex-wife and sent the location immediately.

"You're gonna rot in prison, Silverstone." Hotch lowly said before leaving the room.

-

The team went to their respective SUVs, driving immediately. Hotch's mind was killing him—all the thoughts of you being wounded, in pain, or even seeing your lifeless body.

As soon as the team arrived, Hotch ordered everyone. Prentiss was on his left while Morgan was on his right. Morgan kicked the door harshly as the three ran towards the basement.

Once you heard footsteps and Aaron's voice, your body relaxed a little.

He's here now.

But before you could shout his name out, your body was grabbed by the remaining unsub. He locked your head with his forearm while he placed a small knife near your neck. You can feel how cold the knife was.

"FBI! Nicholas, put the knife down." Aaron said.

Aaron looked at you with fear and anxiety, all he needed was for you to come back to him safely.

"No! This is for John! I-I will make John proud by killing her without his help!" Nicholas shouted.

Prentiss was too impatient so she triggered the gun, the bullet hitting the unsub's forehead directly. His body fell, blood pooling down his head.

Your legs gave up once you were now away from his grasp. Your face was pale. You were dehydrated so much. Your injuries look severe. There was a lot of dried blood on your body while some fresh scars were seen on your thighs and stomach.

Aaron ran towards you instantly. He gently grabbed your upper body, scanning for more injuries. Tears were starting to form again in your eyes as you felt his safe touch once again.

"It's okay, honey.. I'm here. You'll be alright. Just stay awake for me, okay?" Aaron caressed your hair while looking at you with his adorable eyes. He may seem still professional but his eyes were starting to water and his voice quivered.

Unfortunately, you were too weak to speak. You only answered him with a nod.

"I need an ambulance now," Morgan called.

You looked at your husband once again. Oh, he looks good. You hate seeing him anxious or sad. How you wish you had the energy to stroke his cheek. But despite that, you felt your energy decrease. Your body starts to feel cold and your head feels light. When you looked at Aaron again, your eyesight was getting blurry. Everything felt light.

"No no, (Y/n) stay awake, please. The ambulance is coming— What is taking them so long!"

You tried. Oh, you tried to stay awake but unfortunately, darkness filled you.

-

Aaron was outside the operating room for almost 5 hours now. The team left a few hours ago, leaving him alone. He glances at his wristwatch every minute, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for the doctor to tell him his condition. He finally cried. Tears were now falling how his face, imagining the worse responses once the doctor comes out of the operating room.

The door suddenly opened. A doctor exited the operating room, their scrubs were stained with some blood.

"For (Y/n) Hotchner?"

Aaron stood up immediately as he heard your name.

"She'll be fine," the doctor announced, a sigh of relief washing out on his body. "But she lost a lot of blood and was severely dehydrated. She's lucky to be alive. She will wake up in a few hours, Mr. Hotchner. You may visit her once the nurses will transfer her to a private room within the hour."

"Thank you, Doctor— Oh God— Thank you."

When you woke up, you were met by this bright light. You adjusted your eyes for a bit before opening them fully. You shifted your eyes to your legs and saw your husband sleeping rather uncomfortably. You called out his name softly, hoping that he'd wake up despite how quiet your voice was.

Aaron woke up and then looked at you. For the first time in 2 days, a smile was printed on his face.

"You're awake, " he said gently, standing up and kissing your forehead, stroking your hair with his fingers. "I thought I had lost you."

"I'm okay now, Aaron. I'm safe and you're with me," you reassured him, interlocking your fingers with his.

"I'm so sorry it took us time to find you."

"It's okay, Aaron. It's not your fault."

"I love you, (Y/n) Hotchner."

"I love you too, Aaron Hotchner." you smiled at him, kissing him back when his lips touched yours.

"Now give me some water; I'm thirsty," you said.

[afewfantasies]

Lucky Strike 🎯 🎱 - BIKERIDERS - I

Pairing: Benny Cross (Bikeriders) X Reader

Summary: You come across your olderst friend when you least expect it under the most unexpected set of circumstances.

Word count: 1.1K

Based on

The kettle screams and you balance the task of breakfast alone. A cigarette hangs from your lips as you butter your toast. You scan for an ashtray in the motel and end up settling for a plate before removing the screaming kettle from the hot plate. Your eggs are ready just how you like them. Turning you allow your body to relax into the first bite. You chew with your eyes closed reprieve from a long and stressful travel day. The monotonous sound of the news plays in the background.

“Benjamin Cross” you hear faintly followed by a string of infractions. “The assailant” you hear only for the name to register. Eyes wide you head to the television and turn it up. A photograph, a mugshot of Benjamin Cross is on the screen. Your stomach falls, you don’t believe it. Excitement and distress stir as you bend slowly, now eye to eye with the photograph on the tv you can feel your heart racing. Goosebumps pepper your flesh as you find the eyes you used to know belong to this man. “He is awaiting bail for $2,500”.

The kettle is screaming again and you turn to realize you set it back onto the same already hot coils. You're screaming on the inside too as the screen fades to the much less attractive news anchor. Grabbing a jacket you tear out the door to the cabstand with your purse and half eaten breakfast on toast.

“Taxi!” You call.

“Where to Miss?” the cabby asks.

“Precinct” you smile and the man looks you over skeptically before obliging. The cabby continuously looks back as your smile grows. You’d finally found Benny. For fucksake, what had he done to get in so much trouble? Who had he become? The Benny you knew wasn’t a criminal but the victim of crime, the same as you. Poverty and parents ill equipped for happy marriages or family life were your oppressors. Your father was an abusive drunk incapable of holding down a job. Your mother a battered waitress. Benny’s father was a disabled war-hero who had seen better days and his mother had turned to hooking to pay the bills. Benny was the only person who knew the deep fear and shame you felt and you’d never had to explain the tirades to him. Just like he never explained the bitter arguments between his parents or his mother’s many boyfriends to you. There’d been nothing to say between the ages of six an nine years of age when the poorest side of town became your home. There was only room for survival. But Benny was kind even then offering you some of his lunches when your father drank or gambled away the grocery money. Offering you a safe place to sleep when your father was on a tear. By all accounts of your upbringing during those fundamental years you both should have been angry, bullies or dead from stress and neglect.

The cab comes to a halt and a select few of the Vandals wait outside. “Bunch of lowlives” the cab driver mutters. It’s not your immediate reaction to the colourful characters so you pay the cab driver getting out without comment. Whistling and catcalling erupts from the moment you step out of the car. You focus on the task at hand; freeing Benny and step inside the precinct. There are a few more Vandals inside talking amongst each other when you head to the reception desk.

“Now, how may I help you?” A chubby cob flirts with raised brows.

‘Well handsome, I wanted to know how much bail is for Benjamin Cross?” You flirt back and silence falls on the place. You can hear a pin drop. You notice the grungy looking men to your left side staring curiously, with other cops doing the same.

“Why would you need to know that?” The cop snaps soured. You turn unnerved by his change of tone.

“Never mind” you smile politely stepping back instead of getting into it with him. Looking back at the group of guys you sigh deciding to be brave. Here goes nothing. It takes moments for you to pick out the leader. Your eyes hold his and he steps forward.

“Johnny” he says looking you over skeptically.  Suddenly you’re aware of how you might look to them. In your high priced dress with a high priced bag and shoes.

“What do you need to get him out today?” You ask looking up at Johnny.

“$250 is ten percent and we need it in the next hour and a half.” He says. Two hundred dollars is nothing to scoff at but you can’t hide your disappointment when between the gang of them it’s still a struggle. Opening your purse you procure the full payment placing the cash in Johnny’s hand.

“Who are you?” One of the guys asks. Johnny passes the cash to another guy who goes back to the chubby cop. Johnny watches you waiting for an answer and a woman rushes in.

“I’ve got $50 Johnny please tell me you have the rest.” She says, exasperated before turning “who are you?” she asks. Knowing her type well you opt against the truth. Something deep down tells you it’ll only cause complications.

“Johnny called in a favour” You smile using the newly acquired name to your advantage.

“It’s sorted Kathy” Johnny says placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you out of the precinct. His presence is paternal and his scowl demanding. More bikeriders have turned up outside and you wonder what kind of company Benny’s involved in if they can’t come up with $250. Or may be they get in trouble so often they’re stretched thin?

“Are you gonna tell me who you are?” Johnny interrupts and you look up at him.

“Y/N, we grew up together. I just got in town today and saw him on the news” you explain. Johnny relaxes a touch taking your word for it “Don’t tell Benny I paid it, he won’t take the money he’s too proud” your response tells Johnny you know Benny well.

“Darling them guys back there are gonna talk, fancy pants like you comes around in one of those high society dresses, people are gonna talk” Johnny explains.

“Just get Benny yesterday’s paper. Tell him to read the death announcements” you tell Johnny stepping down to find a cab stand.

“Y/N?” Johnny calls and you raise a brow.

“For your ride home, and if you ever need anything you ask for Johnny Vandal” he says giving you Kathy’s fifty and a cordial smile.

“Will do.” You nod taking off.

NEXT CHAPTER

___________

Authors note: The next update will be longer and you and Benny will meet again 🎆

TAGS:

@mrsalwayswrite @ughdontbeboring

[callooopie]

The night, she calls me.. // Vampire!HOTD men

Come with me to the other side. Make the girl in black your bride — The Night // Aurelio Voltaire

It took all my willpower to not make this like a What We Do in the Shadows bit. No one asked for this either.. so that’s why I’m writing it. Is this gonna be a series of headcannons? No… no. No no… no no nono. I’ve started tooooo many writing projects I cannot… or can I 😏 (I actually can’t I have too many requests I need to lock in on)

Did you know what land you were walking on? Did you see the figure watching you from the top floor window? Was that a shadow you saw out the corner of your eye?

Davos Blackwood // Bloody Lord of Raventree Hall

A manor buried in the dark forests of Blackwood Vale, an urban legend surrounded the woods and the semi-ghost town beside it. Locals would talk of a figure that walked the empty streets at night, and the older residents would sometimes speak of an old estate once owned by a wealthy family that could be found in the heart of the forest. But no one has seen this place, or perhaps no one has ever returned alive to tell the tale.

The ever playful lord of Raventree Hall likes toying with his victims before they meet their bloody demise. If a fool ever gets lost on his land, Davos will follow them around in the form of a raven, acting as if he was leading them to the help they desperately called out for. Some would fall for it; the ‘guiding’ corvid that had brought them to this dusty manor. Little did they know, they wouldn’t be leaving that place.

He’s the type to make Raventree Hall look appealing and safe to the unwitting person, sometimes even playing the part of a humble boy who lives in his family’s old home. He’d learn all about a person as he feeds them food, bloody meat cooked to perfection for any human. Eat up, Davos would say, it’s a good cut of meat.. he’d hate for it to go to waste. Oh? The red wine tastes metallic? Strange.. perhaps a bottle gone bad?

He’d keep his lover human, not out of admiration of their humanity—but as more of a ‘pet’. The only reason Davos would turn a human into a vampire would be for his own entertainment purposes. It’s more fun when you can handle him and not pass out every time he does something. Plus, he wants the security of knowing you won’t be leaving him anytime soon. Forever stuck by his side, living forever in a world of night and pleasure by his doing and his doing alone.

Before you become his lovely lady, perhaps you’re one of those lost souls who stumble upon the estate. Either by poor luck or poorer fortunes, you catch the attention of Davos. He scares you from the shadows, setting candles alight with just a gust of wind, slamming doors and sending phantasms to spook you with howls and haunting steps, sending ravens and crows to caw and peck at you. It’s only when you get to the main atrium of the manor does he strike. A sinister smile on his pale face as he lunges at you from out of nowhere, teeth sinking into the skin of your neck as hands travel up and down your torso.

A master of shadows and tricks, Davos isn’t one to meet his adversaries head on. He doesn’t think they deserve his attention. He can deal with vampire hunters and celebrity ghost hunters with a wave of his hand from his bed chambers at the very top of the manor. He can make it as if ghouls are chasing around those idiots, birds seemingly attacking them on sight, if he’s feeling funny he might summon a demon or two. Why does he have the title of bloody lord? Well, he’s just a messy eater, and the corpses he leaves behind are unrecognizable from what they once were.

Jacaerys Velaryon // Draconic Prince of the Night

The picturesque village that the castle of Dragonstone sits next to has gained a plethora of tourists. However, no one has ever been allowed inside. From a mixture of local superstition, and simply because the wooden gates and doors will not open. Nothing can break, or even burn, the wood. Cursed or blessed, many have stayed away from that castle said to have been forged by dragon fire.. if local legends are to be believed.

Local legends also speak of how beautiful women are kidnapped from their homes and beds, never to be seen ever again. As a tourist, you believe you’re safe.. and you don’t really believe in those tales.. at least you don’t believe them until you awaken in a bed that’s not the hostel’s.

Jacaerys is a vampire who is easily bored. He wants someone who’ll keep up with him. A pretty princess to take care of and to simply sit like a doll, but also one who has a bit of wit and brain to them. Someone to go hunting with, or to fly around in the dead of night together. Someone to chase, someone to have intellectual conversation with.

A little more serious than a certain bloodthirsty lord, Jacaerys will turn his lover almost immediately. What’s the use in keeping you human and mortal? There is no use! Now you’re just like him, and you two can bond and be merry together in that lonesome stone castle. All the others he had spirited away were awfully dull, perhaps you will be different?

Like a dragon, he hoards his treasures. He’ll keep you close, too close almost. Jacaerys will hand feed you blood, lifting someone’s arm up to your mouth and praising you for dining on the thick liquid and flesh. He’ll hover near you, you two are royalty after all. It’s good for a prince like him to check up on his princess. He’ll dress you in gold and red fabrics, or maybe nothing at all! Jacaerys does like it when you’re only clad in gold and gems, sit yourself down on his mountains of treasure and make your nest; he’ll show he’s a good dragon who takes care of his mate.

A scholar of dragon magic, the only thing that can destroy his castle is what made it in the first place. Dragon fire. And dragons died out long long ago sweet thing (or never existed at all…). He’s perhaps the only one that remains! Believe whatever you will, Jacaerys will happily prove to you that dragons are real. And you believe it as you watch him transform into one to deal with trespassers who had somehow broken into the castle. Sure there’s ways in if your crafty enough, but what people don’t say is that there’s no way out once you’re in. The charred piles of bones that litter the treasure room are a testament to that.

Cregan Stark // Vampiric King in the North

Perhaps the only one out of the trio to be semi-normal. An urban legend surrounds the snowy mountains of a large wolf that leads lost wanderers to an empty yet warm and alive stone keep. It’s said if you stay for one night and leave the next day, you’ll find your way back to civilization. However, overstay your welcome and you won’t be heard from ever again…

Your car had broke down, and you hadn’t expected such a large snowstorm to sweep through. You’re on the brink of hypothermia, however you spot something in the distance. The howl of a wolf reaching your ears as the wild beast walks toward you. It almost seems to gesture toward you with its head, beckoning for you to follow. You’ve heard this legend, and so when you find yourself in the safety and warmth of a stone fortress you do your best to remain courteous and respectful. The plan was to leave in the morning, however when you try to open the large wooden door to leave—it slams shut on you before locking tightly.

Cregan likes your humanity, wishing only to learn from you. He would not covet you like a prize, nor would he treat you like a pet. To turn you without your consent? Unfathomable. If you wish to be turned, he would gladly do so at your request. Although he would tell you what you’ll miss, what you will be letting go of in exchange for this eternal life of coldness and blood. Perhaps it’ll all be worth it in the face of his love and companionship?

Teach him everything about you, and he’ll teach you all he knows. Cregan’s an old soul who’s lived more lifetimes than he can remember. He’s powerful, ancient; that uppity prince and cocky lord answer to him! He’s their overlord, they are his mere sons subordinates. All that aside, Cregan has vast collections of knowledge from throughout the ages. Although do remember, he scratches your back, and you will scratch his. Or he’ll show you what happens to those who’ve forgotten such an important lesson.

Unlike his underlings, Cregan can control his appetite for blood. He’s learned, and so he keeps a stockpile of it. Some of it ages like wine in a cellar, other bottles he keeps near and close. A special cabinet is reserved for special blood of course. What? You’ve never tried the blood of a priest? It’s heavenly.

Unlike the other two, Cregan lives more on red meats. Which he can get from almost anything. Although due to the coldness of the region, not many animals venture out. For a special occasion, you’ll find your plate full of fresh organs and fatty raw meat. A glass of thick red liquid right next to your plate. Cheers and eat your fill, it’s fresher than fresh. And who knows when an unsuspecting person will come up these mountains again?

[1425fivefive]

After Me, the Flood

Lestappen | Rated: E | 4.7k words

Summary: Charles is a 500-year-old vampire. Max is a human. They meet in Amsterdam in 1662.

Tags: Vampires, violence, sex (all the good stuff)

Author's Note: I wrote this for @motorsport-halloween and am posting it here on Tumblr! This is vibes and smut.

Charles Leclerc first met Max Verstappen in Amsterdam in 1662.

Charles didn’t normally recall years with such specificity. After centuries of wars and famines and plagues, watching countless empires rise and fall, years became almost meaningless. He could barely remember the year of his own birth.

But 1662. Charles could never forget it.

Charles had no reason to be in Amsterdam in that year. But he never had any reason to be anywhere. His family had been dead for centuries and his ability to compel anyone to give him clothing, money, or a room for the night meant he had no need of a profession. 

He was free to go wherever he pleased, to indulge his every whim. 

But after half a millennia of drifting across the continent, untethered from anyone and anything, he couldn’t help but feel that freedom was more of a prison.

He couldn’t remember, precisely, but perhaps he’d gone to Holland because it was where everything seemed to be going in those years. Money, trade, artists, merchants. It was a vibrant city with a beating, bloody heart and Charles needed to feed. 

There was never any shortage of people, then. It was all too easy to drain a victim and tip them into the nearest river, knowing that the body would be sucked down into the muck. If it happened to drift ashore, Charles knew no one would ever connect the bloodless corpse with puncture wounds to Charles of all people.

No, Charles was too beautiful, too doe-eyed, and innocent-looking to ever attract suspicion. 

It helped, Charles knew, that he was a man. He’d lingered too long in a small village in Bavaria, one year in the 1500s, and the stack of corpses he’d left in his wake had sparked a witch trial that had gone on for a decade, eating through the women of the region.

Charles never meant to leave destruction in his wake, but it was unavoidable. He reasoned that he was no different than a wolf or a plague—it was in his nature to ruin, to kill. There was nothing good or bad about his actions. They simply happened.

But no matter how much Charles tried to tell himself that, he still felt a gnawing, awful emptiness inside of him as he drained another body in a dark alley, listening as their whimpers of pleasure-pain slowly faded to nothing.

Charles had fed only hours before meeting Max for the first time. 

He was following his normal routine, after feedings—drinking alone at a pub, debating whether to take someone home, hoping a rough fuck would quiet the horrible feeling inside him.

The pub was quiet, unassuming. Only open to those who knew how to find it, and it was exclusively patronized by men. Young merchants, high off the day’s trades. Gray-haired politicians, ogling the boys who worked behind the bar.

Though Charles’s sexual proclivities skewed more—omnivorous than most of the pub’s patrons, he enjoyed the hard touch of a man after feeding. Women were often too gentle, too considerate. Too liable to have Charles sobbing in their arms, ashamed and horrified by himself.

Charles chatted with the barman for a bit, discussing some festival that would be happening that weekend. Charles wasn’t particularly interested in the topic, but he enjoyed the opportunity to use his Dutch.

Charles had learned dozens of languages over his long life—his native Ligurian, Latin, Provençal, Frisian, Dutch. Charles had even managed to pick up a bit of Yiddish during a brief sojourn to Lithuania. It was one of the few true pleasures in Charles’s existence, learning how to shape his mouth around the new sounds. Discovering new words for things Charles had long grown tired of almost made the world feel fresh again. 

Almost.

By late evening, long having tired of small talk, Charles was preparing himself to go home with one of the boisterous merchants, endure the surely unsatisfying sex that would follow. Perhaps he’d drink from them, after, ensure that he wouldn’t need to feed 

But just as Charles was finishing off the last of his drink, resigning himself to his fate, a man pushed his way through the door, dressed in dark wool, color high in his cheeks.

No one in the pub spared him a second glance. But Charles couldn’t keep his eyes off him. The contrast of his pale skin against the dark wool of his coat. His thick, plush lips and bright, watery blue eyes. The flush in his cheeks, the life beneath his skin.

He was beautiful. The most beautiful man Charles had ever seen in almost five hundred years.

The man sidled up to the bar beside Charles, resting his elbows casually against the mahogany and flagging down one of the bartenders. He ordered a beer, the foam dripping over the lip and running down the side.

“Proost,” Charles said, holding up his glass of mead to the man’s beer.

The man turned to him, offering a shy smile. “Proost.”

They tapped their glasses, each taking a sip of their drinks while holding eye contact.

The beer left a line of foam on the man’s upper lip. Charles wanted to lick it off him, drag his tongue across the sour liquid. But the man raised his sleeve and wiped it away before Charles could do anything irrevocably humiliating.

“You’re not from around here,” the man said.

Charles laughed softly. If only he knew. “No, I am not,” Charles answered vaguely.

“Where are you from?”

Charles gave the man a coy smile, one Charles hoped would make his evasive answers seem flirtatious rather than sinister. “Many places,” Charles said.

The man laughed, then, and it transformed his face into something gorgeous and alive, the skin of his eyes crinkling, his shoulders tipped forward.

“Are you always so difficult?” The man asked.

Charles shrugged, grinning. “Perhaps.”

The man cocked his head, studying Charles. “You like it,” the man said finally. “Having people think you’re mysterious.”

Charles couldn’t help a fond smile at the way the man so clearly thought he had the measure of Charles. “Did it work?” Charles asked.

“Not on me.”

Charles hummed. Better that the man believed it was all an act than suspect the truth.

“What’s your name?” The man asked.

Charles thought, briefly, about giving the man one of his many pseudonyms. But he had so little of himself to offer to the man. He wanted to give him at least one real thing, however small. “Charles.”

“Charles,” the man repeated. He said it the way all Dutch people said Charles’s name, with a tch sound at the beginning and the s at the end. Normally it irritated Charles but he found he liked the sound of his name in the man’s throaty voice.

“And yours?” Charles asked.

“Max.”

“Ah, a strong name,” Charles said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “The name of an emperor.”

“Yes, that’s why my father picked it.” The man—Max—winced as he said father and Charles knew there was something dark there. It wasn’t particularly surprising to have a poor relationship with one’s father, in a pub like this.

“What’s your business in Holland?” Max asked, clearly wanting to move on from the subject of his family.

“No business”—Charles flicked his eyes down to Max’s plush lips—“only pleasure.”

Charles watched as Max’s throat bobbed at Charles’s words, watched as the flush rose in his cheeks and spread down his neck, disappearing beneath the high collar of his jacket. Charles wanted to tear the jacket from Max’s broad shoulders, lick a stripe up Max’s neck, savor the pulse of Max’s carotid artery under his tongue.

Charles felt an aching pressure in his gums, his canines fighting to lengthen. He forced them to retreat, reminding himself of the merchant he’d drained only hours earlier.

“Would that interest you?” Charles asked, trying to tear his gaze away from Max’s neck.

Max stepped closer to Charles, Charles’s thigh sliding between Max’s legs. Charles wanted to tug Max down to his lips, but he knew even a pub like this had to ensure plausible deniability.

“Of course, Charles,” Max murmured. “Of course, I’m interested. You’re”—Max broke off, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips—“you’re beautiful.”

Charles reached out, grazing the back of his fingers down Max’s stomach, startling a gasp out of Max. “You are quite beautiful, as well.”

Max scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

Charles frowned, confused. Max was beautiful, so beautiful Charles couldn’t understand how people hadn’t told him so constantly. Charles had lived for centuries and he’d never seen someone who looked like Max—the broad, strong features that, together, transformed into an almost searing vulnerability.

“I am not lying,” Charles said firmly. “You are gorgeous, Max.”

Max flushed, his whole face turning pink. “Stop.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Charles asked, running his fingers up and down the fabric stretched across Max’s stomach. “Because I think you would enjoy hearing how beautiful you are.” Charles paused, wondering whether to push further. But Max was staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted, and Charles added, “Perhaps you would like hearing how gorgeous your perfect lips look, wrapped around my cock.”

Max sucked in a gasp, before nodding, eager and honest. “Yes, Charles, yes, I’d—yes.”

“Good,” Charles said, smirking. “Now finish your drink.”

Max obeyed, tipping his head back and draining the last of his beer. It was a heady feeling, watching Max follow Charles’s orders. People followed Charles’s instructions all the time, but Charles couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it of their own free will, without Charles needing to compel them.

When Max slammed the empty glass back on the bar, Charles feared that he would never be able to let Max go.

—

Charles was staying in a lavish townhome, overlooking one of the canals. 

He’d killed the only occupant, a man who must have been nearing ninety. His blood had tasted bitter and dry, leaving Charles full but with an unpleasant taste in his mouth that lingered for days.

“This is a very nice place,” Max said, peering at a painting on the wall. “Your family must be quite well-off.”

Charles hummed noncomittally. He knew the basic facts of his birth and childhood: he had been born in 1193, shortly after Monaco became part of Genoa. But he recalled few details of his family. Only fleeting impressions. The feeling of being held by someone, resting his head against their chest and listening to the rumble of their voice. The warm sound of a man’s laughter, presumably his father’s. 

Max was still studying the painting. “Is this a Vermeer?”

“I wouldn’t have thought you to be a lover of the arts,” Charles said teasingly, trying to distract Max from inquiring too deeply about the objects of the house.

“I can appreciate beautiful things,” Max said, voice pitched low. He looked over at Charles, eyes raking over Charles’s form to make his double entendre clear.

If Charles were still human, he would have flushed. “Quite the line.”

“Did it work?” Max asked. He seemed almost vulnerable, desperate for Charles’s approval.

Charles simply smiled. “Do you do this often, Max?”

Max looked confused by Charles’s non-answer. “What? Go home with beautiful, mysterious men?”

Charles smirked. “Yes.”

Max laughed softly. “I can’t say that this particular situation has arisen before.”

Charles preened.

“But I have fucked men before, of course,” Max said bluntly, staring brazenly at Charles.

Charles smiled indulgently and said, “Of course,” even as he recoiled at Max’s tone, at his presumption of how this night would play out between them.

The Dutch were so—boring, sometimes. Every man seemed to believe fucking other men was only acceptable so long as they were the ones putting it in. Even Max, who, in Charles’s opinion, was in desperate need of a good fuck.

The most frustrating part of it was that Charles knew it didn’t have to be this way. That sex between men didn’t have to be shameful or secret.

He’d spent much of the 15th century in Florence, falling into the beds of aristocrats, sometimes making love for days even as their wives puttered about the house, preparing meals and baths. He’d kissed and fucked men in barely hidden corners of public gardens and flirted openly with them at feasts.

But the Church had torn through the city, rooting out “sodomites,” and there was nowhere like it, now.

Now, there was only this: shadowy pubs without signs, parlors with the curtains drawn, and men who believed there was any meaningful distinction between fucking and being fucked.

“I assume this is not your first time,” Max said, interrupting Charles’s thoughts.

Charles smiled softly. “No, Max.” He turned, strolling toward the parlor. “We should have a drink, yes?”

“Oh, um—yes, if you’d like,” Max said, hurrying after him.

The parlor was cluttered, stuffed full of art and heavy furniture. Charles found it all rather oppressive. The only redeeming quality was the beautiful harpsichord in the corner, the interior of the lid bearing an elaborate painting depicting the abduction of Persephone by Hades. For such a Christian people, Charles found them oddly obsessed with pagan myths.

He poured two glasses of jenever, the gin the Dutch so favored, and passed one to Max.

Max took a sip. “This is good.”

“I find it rather tasteless,” Charles said, even as he drained half his glass.

Max snorted. “What would you prefer, then?”

Charles hummed, thinking. “Brandy, perhaps. Or Aquavit.”

“Aquavit?”

“I take it you have never been to Denmark?”

“No, Charles,” Max said, laughing. He sobered a bit, frowning down at his drink. “I’ve never left Holland.”

“Why?” Charles exclaimed, stunned. 

There was so much more to the world than Holland. The vast snowy expanses of Sweden, the cluttered market towns of Alsace, the rolling, foggy hills of Carpathia.

Max laughed softly at Charles’s outrage. “We are not all so well-traveled as you.”

Charles scoffed. “It is not so difficult. Surely you could find work on a merchant ship, sail to whatever new colony the Dutch have claimed.”

“No,” Max said shortly. “My father—” Max broke off, throwing back his drink.

“You are an adult, yes?” Charles asked, frowning.

Max nodded.

“Then how could your father stop you?”

“He is—quite stubborn,” Max sighed. “I think he would kill me, probably, if he knew what I was about to do with you.”

“Oh?” Charles asked, feigning ignorance. “What are we about to do?”

Max didn’t respond. 

Instead, he walked slowly toward Charles. Charles thought Max might kiss him, but Max simply sank to his knees.

Charles gasped at the sight, his hand going automatically to Max’s hair, carding through the blonde strands. Max’s eyes slid shut at the feeling and he let out a soft moan.

Charles felt slightly delirious, watching Max submit to him so easily, even though he knew everything in Max was likely fighting to stand, to shove Charles over a table and yank his breeches down, fuck into him. To see Max on his knees—

“This is what you want?” Charles asked roughly.

Max nodded, color rising in his cheeks. He opened his eyes and gazed up at Charles as if in prayer, lips parted.

“Good boy,” Charles murmured, and Max made a choked, high sound in the back of his throat, eyebrows knitting together. 

“You like that, yes?” Charles asked. “Hearing how good you are?”

Max nodded, a flush spreading down his neck. He was gorgeous like this— needy and responsive while almost shy, clearly self-conscious of his own desires.

Charles wanted to show him exactly how good it could be, if only Max let himself enjoy it fully. Without shame or fear.

“Take out my cock,” Charles ordered.

Max let out a pained whimper, even as his hands flew to Charles’s breeches, undoing the button, before tugging them down Charles’s thighs. Max made a desperate noise at the sight of Charles’s half-hard cock. 

“You want to suck it, yes?” Charles breathed, looking down at Max through half-lidded eyes.

Max made another choked noise. “Yes.”

Charles used the grip on Max’s hair to tug him forward, pressing Max’s face against his cock. “Then suck me,” Charles ordered.

Max licked a slow, wet stripe up Charles’s hardening cock, eyes flicking up to watch Charles’s reaction.

Charles couldn’t hold in a moan at the sight, his grip tightening in Max’s hair. Max’s eyes fluttered at the feeling and Charles pulled even tighter, gratified by the high noise Max made in the back of his throat.

“So good, Max,” Charles breathed.

Max whined and sucked the head of Charles’s cock into his mouth, tongue laving over the slit.

Charles groaned, tipping his head back, fucking deeper into Max’s mouth. Max took it beautifully, moaning even as Charles hit the back of his throat.

Max was clearly experienced and Charles couldn’t stop the lash of jealousy that realization inspired. Who else had had Max like this, moaning and choking on their cock? Who else had seen the aroused flush on Max’s cheeks, his neck? Who else had Max fucked, who else had fucked Max—

Max let out a frantic whine around Charles’s cock and Charles looked down to find Max’s bright blue eyes filled with tears, Charles’s knuckles almost white where they were gripping Max’s hair tight, so tight it was certainly painful.

Charles loosened his grip immediately, smoothing a hand over Max’s hair. “I’m sorry,” Charles murmured, pulling back until only the tip of his cock rested on Max’s tongue.

But Max simply looked up at Charles, holding his mouth open obediently, as if asking Charles to use him.

And who was Charles to deny him?

Charles groaned and fucked forward roughly, staring down in awe at the way Max just took him. As if Max wanted to be possessed, controlled, dominated.

For centuries, Charles had felt it a curse, the way he only seemed capable of taking—wealth, blood, control. 

But Max was on his knees, asking, begging Charles to take him. As if Charles taking was something good, something pleasurable. Erotic, even.

Charles whined at the realization, chasing his pleasure roughly in the wet heat of Max’s mouth. Max moaned around him and Charles’s eyes slid shut, surrendering himself to his rapidly-impending orgasm.

Despite the haze of arousal, Charles recalled his words to Max at the bar, his promise to tell Max exactly how beautiful he looked with Charles’s cock in his mouth.

Charles forced his eyes open. He barely held himself back from coming at the sight of Max on his knees, pink-faced, tear tracks on his cheeks.

“God, Max,” Charles moaned. “So gorgeous.”

Max let out a muffled whine, high-pitched, desperate, staring up at Charles with wide eyes.

Charles traced a thumb over the corner of Max’s plush lips where they were stretched around Charles’s cock. “Your lips, Max,” Charles murmured. “They look perfect like this. Like you were made to take my cock.”

Max made a punched-out noise at that, eyes fluttering. He reached a hand down to his crotch, grinding against the heel of his palm, clearly desperate for friction.

Charles moaned at the sight, at the thought of Max spilling messily in his breeches, so desperate from simply having Charles’s cock in his mouth that he couldn’t even take the time to undo the button and get a hand on himself.

“Good boy,” Charles breathed, barely hanging on as he watched Max rut against his hand. “Make yourself feel good while I come in your pretty mouth.”

Max made a pained sound at that, but he didn’t stop grinding frantically against his hand, sucking messily on Charles’s cock.

Charles wanted nothing more than to watch Max come like that—on his knees, in his clothes, with the taste of Charles on his tongue.

“Fuck,” Charles moaned, his control fraying as he approached his orgasm. “So good, Max. You’ll be good for me, yes? You’ll let me come in your mouth?”

Max whined, nodding frantically around Charles’s cock.

Charles threaded his fingers back through Max’s hair, controlling Max’s pace as Charles approached what Charles knew would be an earth-shattering orgasm.

“I’m close, Max,” Charles breathed, voice urgent. “You’ll come with me, yes?” 

Max whimpered, pressing harder against his crotch.

“You need to come with me, Max,” Charles ordered. “You need to ruin those pretty clothes while I ruin your pretty mouth.”

Max moaned, high and thin, around Charles’s cock, and his eyes went squinty as his thrusts sped up.

“God, Max,” Charles groaned. “I’m going to come. You’ll take it all, yes? Be a good boy and take everything I give you?”

Max made a frantic noise, his hips stuttering against his hand, and Charles chased his own orgasm roughly, whining high in his throat at the sight of Max’s jaw working to take his cock, at the feeling of Max’s tongue licking over the head, at how Max just took it, everything Charles gave him.

That was it, Charles realized. With Max, Charles felt like he was giving.

Charles came with a choked-off moan, fighting to keep his eyes open as he watched Max swallow around him. Halfway through Charles’s orgasm, Max let out a high whine and Charles watched as his thighs clenched together, his hand pressing hard against his crotch.

“Fuck,” Charles moaned, barely able to speak as he felt Max swallow another pulse of his come, “you’re coming, yes?”

Max didn’t respond, simply gazing up at Charles with hazy eyes, his hips making tiny, abortive thrusts against his hand.

“Good boy,” Charles panted, his own orgasm finally petering out. “So good, Max.”

Max let out another high whine, his hips slowing against his hand.

They stayed like that, for a moment. Charles’s softening cock resting on Max’s tongue, Max gazing up at Charles like he’d witnessed something divine.

When the sensation became too much, Charles pulled out of Max’s mouth, smiling at the sight of Max chasing after him.

Charles tucked himself back in his breeches, fastening them and straightening his clothes.

Max stayed on his knees, panting roughly.

“You can get up,” Charles said, laughing softly. “Though I must say I am enjoying how much you seem to like being on your knees for me.”

Max flushed and pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his knees straightened.

Charles pulled Max in by the waist, pressing his lips softly to Max’s. Max didn’t react, for a moment, frozen against Charles’s mouth. But as Charles considered pulling away, Max let out a soft whimper, his hands flying up to Charles’s hair, tugging him closer.

Charles moaned into Max’s mouth, sliding his hands around Max’s waist, tugging Max tighter against him. Max’s lips parted and their tongues slid wetly against each other, Charles whining at the taste of himself in Max’s mouth.

Max pulled back after a moment, just a hair, keeping his forehead pressed against Charles’s. “Do I taste like you?” Max murmured, his breath hot on Charles’s lips.

“Yes,” Charles breathed. “But maybe I should have another taste, just to confirm.”

Max laughed, a short puff of air, and pulled Charles in for another heated kiss, swallowing Charles’s desperate noises.

Charles pulled Max tighter, grinding their crotches against each other, and Max grimaced against Charles’s mouth.

“Fuck, your clothes,” Charles murmured, remembering that Max was sitting uncomfortably in his own spend. “Let me—“ Charles didn’t finish the sentence, simply pushed Max back into an armchair, sinking to his knees before Max.

He wanted to make Max’s trip home more comfortable. But Charles would never forgive himself if he let Max leave without even getting a glimpse of Max’s cock.

As Charles brought his hands to the fastening of Max’s breeches, Max grabbed Charles’s wrist. “Charles,” Max said roughly, looking down at him with hooded eyes, “as much as I like the idea of your mouth on me, I won’t be able to get hard again.”

Charles smiled sweetly, tugging his wrist free of Max’s hold. “You won’t need to be hard for this.”

Max looked confused, but he let Charles tug his breeches open, revealing Max’s cock, soft and pink, glistening with come.

“Such a pretty cock, Max,” Charles breathed, before leaning forward and licking over Max, moaning at the salty taste of Max’s come.

“Fuck, Charles,” Max said, voice high and choked. But he stayed still, letting Charles lick him clean.

Charles lifted Max’s cock, leaning down to lap up the come coating the underside of Max’s cock. Max whined at the feeling, and when Charles glanced up Max was staring down at him in awe, teeth digging into his plush lower lip.

“Has anyone ever touched your cock like this, Max?” Charles asked. “Touched you but not tried to make you come?”

Max shook his head, eyes locked on Charles.

“Pity,” Charles breathed, even as he reveled in being the first to do this, to treat Max tenderly, gently. Worship him. “You have a very pretty cock, Max.”

Max whimpered, even as he quipped, “You’ve said.”

Charles chucked softly. “Yes, but you should hear it all the time. A cock this pretty deserves it.”

Max whined, twitching helplessly toward Charles’s mouth.

“You want me to keep licking you, yes?” Charles breathed.

Max nodded, lips parted.

“What would you like me to keep licking?”

“My cock,” Max breathed.

Charles smiled. “What kind of cock?”

Max tipped his head back, letting out a high whine. When he looked back at Charles his eyes were glassy, watery with unshed tears. “My pretty cock.”

Charles held Max’s gaze as he leaned forward and dragged his tongue over Max.

—

“I should go,” Max said. Though Charles didn’t want Max to leave, he couldn’t help but enjoy the rough sound of Max’s voice, throaty and fucked out.

“But you just arrived,” Charles protested. He reached out and snagged Max’s hand, tugging Max closer. “Stay,” Charles breathed, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Max’s neck. Charles’s eyes slid closed at the heady scent of Max’s sweat and blood, the steady thrum of his pulse just beneath his skin. 

It would be so easy to bite—

Max pulled his hand free of Charles’s and he stepped back, looking mournfully at Charles. “My father—he’ll be wondering why I’m not back.”

Charles scoffed. “What will he care? Men your age are always out late, chasing after every pretty thing that crosses their line of sight.”

Max frowned. “Are we not the same age?”

Charles thought back to what he had said. He realized he’d said men your age, as if Charles—

“I do not know your age, so how could I say if we are the same?” Charles asked.

A small smile appeared on Max’s lips. “So difficult.”

“One of my many charms,” Charles said, smirking, hoping to distract Max.

But Max persisted. “I’m twenty-six.”

“You were right, then,” Charles said easily. “I am also twenty-six.”

It was not a lie, as long as Charles counted only the years he spent before he was turned.

“You’re quite well-traveled, for someone our age,” Max mused. “How did you manage it?

“What would be the fun in sharing all my secrets?” Charles asked, keeping his tone light. “How else can I ensure you’ll come back for more?”

Charles knew it was unwise, proposing another meeting. 

It wasn’t safe, only increased the chance that Max would see something Charles couldn’t explain—the lengthening of Charles’s fangs, the way his eyes went black when he hadn’t fed, Charles’s inability to tolerate the sun for more than a few moments.

Charles had witnessed the Inquisition firsthand, the witch hunts in Westphalia and Bavaria. He knew the risks of being perceived as different. Dangerous.

But Max laughed, open and happy, oblivious to Charles’s hesitations. “I’d like that. Seeing you again.”

Charles allowed himself a small smile. He wanted Max—deeply, urgently. Desperately enough to override his fear, the same desperation, Charles suspected, that had driven Max to his knees only a half-hour earlier.

“Good,” Charles said. “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Charles exclaimed, laughing. “Was my cock that good?”

Max stammered, flushing a bright red. Finally, he muttered out a self-conscious, “Charles.”

Charles laughed, the first real laugh Charles had had in months. 

His laughs were normally a performance, a tool to convince someone to slip into a darkened doorway with him or take him home. 

But his mask kept slipping with Max, and now he was laughing in that high-pitched, breathy way of his he’d always found slightly humiliating.

Max’s face, however, shifted into a broad grin. “I like your laugh.”

It was Charles’s turn to flush. “I sound stupid.”

“No,” Max said quickly, shaking his head. “You sound lovely.”

Charles looked fondly at Max. The thought of compelling Max to stay flitted briefly across Charles’s mind, but Charles dismissed it as soon as it appeared. He vowed to never compel Max. He wanted it to be Max’s choice, always. 

“Thank you,” Charles breathed. “You can come tomorrow. After nightfall, yes?”

Max nodded eagerly. “Yes, Charles. Of course.”

[ravenromanova]

Too close

Pairings: Ghostface Bucky x Female reader (I got this idea from a tiktok i saw of someone that made a scream poster of bucky as ghostface and i died and i also read a natasha ghostface fic and it was so good and i thought why not make one of bucky!) This is the fic that inspired this, by @abbyromanoff you can run but you cant hide

Warnings: Mentions of killing, blood, SMUT 18+!!!!! Mask kink, knife play, Blood kink, Daddy kink, Breeding kink, unprotected sex (Bucky and the reader have sex in another room from an unalived person) (My darkest fantasies are coming out to play here sue me) DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!!!!!!!!

Summary- Bucky doesn’t like it when people get too close to his girl. What happens when you figure out why everyone you talk to suddenly dies. Will you run?

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!

~

“This just in another the mysterious serial killer known as ghostface has claimed another victim. 22 year old Jordan Rodriguez was found in her new york apartment with 50 stab wounds. She was found by her roommate Janice after she came home from work. Officers haven’t given many details as to if they are any leads into who this killer could be. But they have advised everyone within the brooklyn area to be inside by 8pm to limit any risks.” The nightly news reporters vice echos through your apartment as you watch through hooded eyes.

This was the fifth person this week to die a brutal death and not to mention you seem to have had an interaction with everyone that has died. Fear floods your veins as your head runs a thousand miles and hour and what this could mean. Is someone out to hurt you? Do you have a stalker who is killing everyone you know to get you alone? Are you next? That’s all you can think about before your thoughts are cut off by the front door opening.

You shriek and jump off the couch and run to the kitchen to grab whatever knife you can. You decide to duck behind your island with the knife as you hear footsteps walk in. The footsteps are heavy yet soft as the approach you. It’s not until the figure comes closer to you that you jump in front of them and attempt to stab them but they catch your hand.

“Woah they’re tiger” The voice says and you drop the knife once you realize who it is. You flick on the kitchen light before walking over to him and throwing your arms around his shoulders and hugging him.

“I’m sorry jamie” You apologize to your boyfriend and he just chuckles in response.

“It’s okay babydoll, but what has you so freaked out?” He asks looking at your with eyes of concern.

You sigh as you look at him before you decide to tell him what’s wrong. “The news- They said another person has been killed…A-And i knew the person who was killed, Ive known all the people who’ve died this week! What-what if someone is out to hurt me? What i-if i- die?” Your voice breaks as you speak your fears. He looks at you and brings you in for another hug.

“Oh babydoll it’s going to be okay im sure it’s nothing” He said calmly as she stroked your back and kissing the top of your head.

You sighed as you looked at him while you nodded your head. Maybe you were just being paranoid you thought, maybe this is just one big coincidence and you’ll be fine. Yea… you’ll be fine.

“Yea maybe you’re right” You didn’t sound too convinced with your own words but you try to shake off the feeling that something bad is happening.

“Come on babydoll lets get you into bed so you stop overthinking in that pretty little head of yours” His voice is so soft and sweet as he takes your hand in his and walks you two to the bedroom. When the both of you enter the room he tells you to lay down and then goes to get something. Thirty seconds later he comes back with your favorite blanket and stuffed animal and slides in bed next to you.

That night the two of you cuddle and have cute little conversations that help ease your overthinking. You fell asleep with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was panicking since he stepped foot into the apartment. He thought he had been caught when you attempted to stab him but luckily for him you were as clueless as ever.

~one week later~

You sighed as you watched the news and they reported the 8th murder in two weeks. And very unfortunately for you, you had known the persons who died…just like the rest of them. That really didn’t help with the overthinking that’s for sure.

It was around 4am when you decided to turn off the tv and head to bed. Your brows furrowed when you realized Bucky wasnt home yet. You thought maybe he had gotten an overnight shift at the garage but normally he tells you that. You decided to check ‘find my friends’ since it kinda worried you that he wasnt home.

When his location showed that he was at an apartment complex your heart sank. A thousand possibilities were running through your head as you threw some sweats on, grabbed your keys and headed out the door to find your boyfriend.

The whole car ride you were full of anxiety and your brain wouldn’t shut up. Once you pulled up to the complex you quickly ran to the car not in the mood to play around if he was fucking someone else. You followed the gps and walked right up to the front door but you noticed it was open slightly. So what did you do? You walked right into the dark apartment despite not knowing who or what you’d find.

But what you did find sent bile to your throat. There was a figure dressed in all black standing over who you thought was your boyfriend with a knife in their hand.

“BUCKY!” You screamed as you ran over to the body on the floor. It wasnt until you got up close that you realized that the person wasnt Bucky…It was the barista that served you your coffee this morning. Your thoughts ran wild as you mumbled incoherent words under your breath.

But those were quickly cut off once your heard the masked figured laughing. You whipped your head around and stared at the figure in horror.

“Oh Kotenok you’re so precious” The masked figured said as he slowly removed his mask. Your eyes widened as you saw who was under the mask… It was Bucky. You quickly stood up and backed away from him as you started to hyperventilate.

“W-What the hell?” You finally said after you finally slowed your breathing down. Bucky chuckled as he came closer to you and wiped some sweat off his forehead.

“I guess it’s finally time to tell you-“ He said as she took off the costume and dropped the knife. You stared at him as his hand come up to caress your cheek. “You see kotenok i never meant for any of this to happen- But these people-t-they flirt with you and get too close to you. And i cant have that, i cant have people wanting to take what’s mine. And see i wouldn’t mind so much that people mindlessly flirt with you… if you didn’t flirt back” He seethed as he grabbed your face.

You were speechless at his confession never in a million years did you think he’d do this. But the idea that you’re his motive, that he just wants to keep you to his self is intoxicating. You look up at him with doe eyes before you finally find the words to say.

“You do all of this to make sure that i stay yours” Your voice heightens in excitement as you wait for his response.

His grip tightens on your face as he speaks. “Yes kotenok i do- i cant stand the thought of someone else having you the way i do” He confess as his eyes darken at the way you smirk.

“That’s- the hottest thing i think you’ve ever said to me” Bucky smiles devilishly at your words and suddenly picks you up and pushes you against the wall. His lips are on yours within a seconds time and the kiss is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done.

“Put the mask back on” The words come out breathless as your chest rises due to the lack of air. He smirks as he walks you over to the couch and lays you down before grabbing the mask and knife again. He put the mask back on and then slowly stalks towards you and he twirls the knife in his hand.

“Oh fuck” You whisper under your breath when he climbs on top of you. Even though you cant see his face you know for a fact he’s smirking. He wastes no time in ripping off your shirt along with your sweats leaving you in just your panties.

“So pretty” His voice comes out a little muffled as he speaks due to the mask but it made it so much hotter. He then takes the knife that he wiped off and drags it across your bare chest. Your breath hitches in your throat as the cool metal hits your skin. Bucky then drags the knife down your torso and slices your panties off and drags it across your bare pussy.

“Please” You beg as you grab the hand with the knife and place it on your stomach. He places the blade on your skin and digs it in just a little, “Mark me” Bucky wastes no time in carving his initials into your skin he leaves a little ‘J.B.B’ on your stomach, before wiping the blood away with his thumb. Your grab his thumb and slowly bring it to your mouth before you clean his thumb off.

“Fucking hell kotenok” He groans at your actions. Bucky grows impatient as he throws the knife across the room making note to pick it back up later. He then spreads your pussy and starts to play with your clit and your back arches in reaction.

“Please daddy” You beg and then he adds two fingers into you in a swift motion and chooses a relentless pace. This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever done but right now, in this moment you dont give a flying fuck.

The pleasure you feel is beyond intense as Bucky curls his fingers and hits your g-spot just right. You let out a screaming moan as your first orgasm bursts through you. “Oh fuck” You breathe out the best you can as you slowly takes off his pants and boxers exposing his hard cock standing at attention for you.

“I want you so bad please daddy” He doesn’t need much motivation after you give him the go ahead. Bucky slams his cock into you hard and fast and you scream in response to his movement.

“Yes yes yes” You chant as you sit up and wrap your arms around him as Bucky slams into you. The room is filled with the filthy noises of your pussy and his balls slapping your skin.

“Gonna fucking breed you kotenok” He grunts and picks up his speed chasing his high. You can feel your second orgasm build up as he talks about breeding you.

“Oh please breed me daddy- fuck- wanna be full of your babies” You plead as you grind your hips down on his cock earning a guttural moan from him.

“Yea? You want that your little slut? You wanna have my kids?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. You dont find the words to respond and just opt for nodding your head. And in turn Bucky changes the position so he’s back on top and he thrusts into you like never before. Your moans become louder and his pace gets rougher. The both of you end up finishing within a matter of minutes and once you do you take the mask off him and just stare at him.

You take a moment and rub your thumb over his bottom lip before you bring him into a passionate kiss. Bucky grunts into the kiss and wraps his arms around your waist lovingly. After you break the kiss you look into his blue eyes and smile softly.

“I love you” You whisper and put your forehead against his. In this moment you love him more than you ever thought possible. Did he murder someone? Yes. Did he kill almost a dozen people just for you? Yes. But he also did it because he loves you and that just makes your heart swell. You get an idea after a minute of just looking at him.

“Let’s clean this place up and then run away, Lets go some where else where it can be just us” You say with a pleading looking in your eyes. Bucky agrees and nods before getting you both dressed again.

The two of you clean up the mess and decide of what to do with the body before heading back home to pack your things. That night while in a way tragic was also the start of the rest of your lives together and you couldn’t be happier.

~the end~

i do not give permission for my work to me translated or copied on other websites

[ganondoodle]

actively fighting a full blown panic attack born out of sadness and anger after having to drive by yet another victim on the side of the road

it makes me livid how accepted it is to just let cats suffer and die disgustingly horrid deaths and live awful short lives just so what, for what?? so you dont have to play with them for an hour a day??? when i was little it was just kinda normal that they disappeared at some point, i didnt understand what it actually meant until our outdoor cat i loved dearly was found in the bushes near our house in a condition so horrible my dad has never told me and i have never dared to ask, she only made it to 6 and had horrible scars and infections before that i allowed my family to convince me to let my first own cat outside, we only had her for a year, she died at only 2 years old, i am still suffering from the guilt, it has never let me go, she went missing for a week and i walked the entire vilage up and down every day, yelling her name, wandering into the forest alone, talking to every stranger i met until one morning my mom told me that our neighbour who works for the city asked if we had a white cat with a very specific collar she had- he found her on a busy road crossing in the next bigger city, i never even got to bury her, its haunting me, the thought of her wandering lost and scared in the city for a week until meeting an awful end gives me headaches, the fact that i was the last one to see her alive, that i put her outside bc we were late for school and had to leave quickly, that she had come home with oil in her fur from crawling through maschines and cars before, that i was worried but still didnt act, that it is my fault, any time i am up to late its coming back, it will never let me go, if i had stood my ground and not allow her outside unless on a leash or similar shed still be alive today, any time i read a description at our local shelter it comes back, they still advocate for outside cats, all of them, even if they have only been an indoor one before, its madness my older sister had a cat, i dont even know how old he got but it wasnt long either, he got hit by a car in front of their house, she has two now again and the only reason she hasnt let them outside is because they havent shown much interest in it, i tried to warn her before and she didnt listen and shes still resistent, even after losing one too

i have seen so many on the side of the road, anywhere i drive i see them, i cannot forget a single one, we are surrounded by farm land and all its giant maschinery, its still common to poison rodents, why do people value them so little, you wouldnt let your dog just live outside in the woods and streets for half the day or more, you wouldnt just throw your guniea pigs on the road and tell them have fun, you wouldnt just let your bird roam outside, there probably assholes that do that too but you cannot tell me its as common as outside cats

i dont understand it, i dont, i wont, i never will, i will never forgive myself this poor little animal that was my responsibility having to pay the price of my ignorance, or my own weakness letting my family convince me despite the awful way we lost one before, it makes me want to explode it hurts my brain in grief and anger i can barely contain

cats deserve to live a safe and long life, i get only having them inside may feel like you are locking them up, but do you think that not doing so is worth having them die a painful death? being poisonend? on purpose even by disgusting people that hate them? abused and chased by other animals and dogs? hurt and lost? cutting their lifespan in half? if they even make it that far? the amount of wildlife that they kill unnecessarily so when all of that is already in a steep decline everywhere? and if they eat what they hunt get infected with diseases or again, poison? die somewhere in agony? if cared for they dont care about going outside, plenty can be leash trained or given a secure way to roam like those cat proof aviary like things, if you dont want to put effort into caring for a cat DONT GET ONE, ALL pets require adequate care, and if you think cats are the easiest bc you only have to feed them every now and then IF they come home? you suck, you are an asshole, i hate you and you do not care about them, if you just want to occasionalyl feed and pet an animal go to the petting zoo

(this is about pet cats of people who can absolutely afford to keep them healthily inside, i know feral cats and those in poor neighbourhoods are a thing, even if not here where i live, and thats a whole other but still similar problem and not the point of this post)

[misseviehyde]

INFLUENCED

Bryan sometimes wondered if he should have told his daughter Sarah about his plan to help her with her bullying problem - but by now it was far too late.

It wasn't like there was much of Bryan left anyway. Beckie had seen to that.

It had all started a few weeks ago when Sarah had come home in tears again. She told her Dad that she was being emotionally manipulated and abused by a brat in her class, Beckie.

Beckie wasn't like the other girls. She was... better. She had bigger tits, blonder hair, more expensive clothes and makeup. In short she was a total bully - and like all bullies she enjoyed having a victim to humiliate.

That victim was Sarah. Beckie had correctly identified that the pink haired goth girl would be an easy target. She undermined Sarah at every chance and mocked her for being different.

At first the other girls around them seemed uncomfortable, but none of them said or did anything. Some of them had been friends with Sarah for a long time - but their silence was deafening.

That didn't last long. Beckie had a strange influence on others. Gradually at first, but increasingly rapidly they began to change. They began to dress like Beckie, talk like Beckie - even starting to join in her bullying.

It was like some evil hive mind had taken control of the girls and made them think and act just like Beckie.

They began to get boob jobs and wear tight skirts and tiny tops. They dumped their boyfriends and began to fuck black guys only. High heels and boots replaced comfortable trainers and shoes. Attitudes became troublesome, arrogance grew and bit by bit they became empty souless brats who loved to tease and lead on all the boys

All except Sarah who was left isolated and tormented. Beckie and her goons were now everywhere and Sarah didn't even want to go to college anymore.

That's why Bryan decided to have it out with Beckie. This couldn't go on.

He didn't tell Sarah his plan - not that it was much of a plan. Just go and confront Beckie, get her to leave his daughter alone.

He drove over to the luxurious condo where Beckie and her rich divorced Mom (four husbands) lived. There was a pink Landrover parked on the drive and a giant swimming pool at the back.

Banging on the door Bryan was relieved when Beckie opened it. She was wearing a tiny LA Boutine bikini set and her long blonde hair fell wantonly over her shoulders. It was hard to read her expression thanks to the mirror shades she wore.

"What the fuck do you want?" she yawned boredly examining a long bejewelled manicured nail.

"I want you to leave my daughter Sarah alone!" grunted Bryan in what he hoped was an intimidated way.

Beckie's whole demeanour changed as she realised who he was. Her lips twitched into a naughty smile and her blue eyes twinkled excitedly as she tore off her shades. It wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"Nooooo fucking way! This is so cool. Get in here."

Giggling excitedly, Beckie yanked Bryan into the house. Sliding her small sexy hand into his she lead him inside and he dazedly followed.

A pink fog seemed to instantly descend around Bryan. Rational decisions and thoughts became sluggish and hard. A dreamlike quality now surrounded the day and Bryan found himself going along with his daughters bully.

"What did you say your name was? Bailey?"

"No, Bryan," he croaked weakly.

"I prefer Bailey. Beckie and Bailey sounds a lot hotter right Bailey?"

Bailey blinked. He didn't know why but it made a lot of sense. Yes, Bailey was a much better name.

"So Bailey, does Sarah know you're here?"

"No, I didn't tell anyone."

"Fuck yeah, this is perfect. None of those bitches have quite got what it takes to be my bestie. I was wondering which of them to fully transform, but now you just walked out of the blue and gave me the perfect answer. If no one knows you came here, they'll never find you once we're done."

Bailey blinked. He didn't know what the fuck Beckie was talking about.

"What the hell are you talking a..."

"First rule Bailey. You NEVER interrupt me when I'm talking and you never question me. Whatever I say you go along with, right? That's what besties like you are for! I'm the hot one and you're my sexy little shadow. You don't have any opinions of your own, you just copy mine."

Bailey blinked and his mouth clamped shut. Besties? What the fuck was this demented bitch talking about? Still he should probably do as she said. She probably knew best. In fact Beckie seemed really cool and hot. He bet her opinions were much better than his.

"Second rule is we always dress to impress. I need to get out of this bikini and we need to get you in some decent clothes. Come upstairs with me now."

Bailey followed Beckie up to her bedroom. The pink fog was stronger now. It was like the longer he was in her presence, the easier it was to go along with what she wanted.

"You're obviously not as strong minded as your daughter anyway. The influence doesn't seem to work very well on her. Not that I care so long as it affects everyone else. I'm the best right?"

Bailey just nodded stupidly and said, "Yes Beckie."

"Well you seem very susceptible which is pretty hot. Seeing as you're going to be my bestie I'll tell you about it. I don't know how or why but I was born with a power. I call it the influence. It let's me change reality and people around me. I always get the things that I want eventually. People just change to match my expectations. Those losers at college are all well on the way to being popular girls like me, but it can take time. When I really want something though the influence gets more powerful."

Bailey nodded along, "Wow, that sounds hot Beckie."

"It is hot. It's so fucking hot. It makes me feel like a God. Right now Bailey I've never wanted anything so much as to turn you from that losers nice kind Daddy into my evil, bitchy bestie. Just look at how fast the influence is working. Look down."

Bailey looked down. Whilst he had been talking to Beckie he hadn't noticed how tingly his body had been. He gasped. His male clothes now hung loose and baggy over his body which had shrunk to nearly half the size. He was an inch shorter than Beckie now and his arms and legs seemed stick thin. His tummy was as flat as a washboard and all his body hair was gone.

"Take off those stupid fucking clothes - you look dumb. We need to get you into a new outfit right now.

Bailey didn't object as Beckie helped him out of his clothes. He noticed his skin looked younger. His hands were now more delicate and his feet were tiny. His whole body felt like a dolls. He looked down and gawped at his crotch. His dick was... it was gone!

"What are you staring at Bailey? Haven't you ever seen a pussy before. Kind of weird seeing as you're a girl."

Bailey frowned and she shook her head - but it was hopeless to fight the influence. Of course she was a girl. She had always been a girl.

Grabbing Bailey's hand Beckie pulled her into her bathroom and shoved her in front of the mirror. Bailey gasped at the vision in front of her.

A beautiful girl with small but perfect tits, a perky ass and long dark hair was looking back at her.

"Look how pretty you are Bailey. You're worthy to be my bestie. Now let's get you into a bodystocking and fix that makeup."

Bailey loved feeling Beckie's skillful fingers fix her lipstick, mascara and foundation. "Of course you know how to do all this right?" smirked Beckie. "Show me... you try."

Bailey took the brush from her besties hands and skillfully continued to apply her makeup as if she had done it all her life.

It felt like she was replacing her old personality and thoughts as she applied more makeup. Being feminine felt so good.

"Good girl, you look so hot! Now the third rule is that being a bitch always feels good. From now on you are going to be a bully. Being my bestie means you have to be just as mean and as cruel as I am."

"Yes Beckie, that sounds hot," giggled Bailey as she felt her morals melt away.

"Then say it," gloated Beckie.

"Being a bitch always feels good. I'm cruel and mean and I like it."

As she said the words Bailey felt her nipples get hard and her pussy getting wet.

"And who's the biggest loser we know?" hissed Beckie with evil glee. "Who deserves to get bullied every day?"

"S... Sarah?" guessed Bailey, feeling a flash of guilt that then faded to never return.

"That's right. Doesn't it feel good to know you're better than her? What does she mean to you?"

"N...nothing... she means nothing. I fucking hate her. I want to bully and humiliate her for being such a skank."

Bailey giggled as the words oozed out of her mouth. Yessss this is what she wanted. Wasn't it?

Beckie lifted Bailey back off the bed and walked her to the mirror.

"Very good. Now tell me... who are you?"

"Me? I'm Bailey your bestie and I love being a fucking brat. I hate Sarah and I share all your opinions."

Part of Bailey suddenly rebelled... a bit of her that was shrinking fast. She groaned and gripped her head. "Noooo you can't stop me, this is my body now. I'm Bailey and I love it."

Giggling Beckie slid a long glass dildo into her besties hands. "Don't worry babe, it's just the last part of your old pysche trying to fight back. Make yourself cum and he'll give in forever. My influence is too strong!"

Lying on the bed, Bailey unpopped her lingerie and exposing her tight pussy slowly slid the dildo inside.

"I'm a... unnnnff bitch, I'm a bully I ooooohhh hate Sarah."

Pump. Pump. Pump.

Wet squelches filled the air and the sounds of panting moans as Bailey pleasured her new body and the final barriers to her mind began to break down to Beckie's obscene influence.

"That's it. You're just like me now Bailey. You're a rich, mean, popular slut. You will never escape my influence."

"Yesssss I'm a rich slut and I'm a oooooh fucking bitch. I'm a BIIIIITTTTTCHHHH!"

Bailey screamed and yanked the dildo out as her pussy throbbed and she began to squirt. Her brain went white hot as her new personality and thoughts locked forever.

She was such a bitch and she loved it.

Beckie stroked her hair and giggled. "Don't worry, my influence will give you a new identity. Everyone will falsely remember you've always been my bestie. Well everyone except Sarah. We're going to have so much fun together babe..."

**********

Sarah cried as her Mom tried to comfort her. Bryan had been missing for weeks now and the police couldn't provide any answers. She'd barely slept, barely eaten. No one could find even a trace of him.

Her Mom had taken her out for coffee and they were sat outside in the sunshine when she saw her bullies approaching.

Beckie and Bailey laughed and giggled to each other as they passed, saying something mean. Bailey dropped a note as she passed and despite herself Sarah picked it up.

It was a scrumpled missing note - one of the ones she'd put up everywhere. It showed Bryan and offered a reward for information about his disappearance.

Someone had written in lipstick on the note.

"Your Daddy hates you so he left home. You're a fucking loser."

Sarah felt more tears come as she saw the mean girls laughing at her reaction. In their centre a gloating Beckie smiled approvingly at her protegee Bailey.

She really was a great influence on the bitch...

The End

[crxss01]

— Rosa Pastel (2)

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ after four months of having broken up with miles an event leads you right back into his arms.

warnings ✧˖ ° gaslighting, manipulation, toxic relationship, threatening, unwanted flirting, miles is a major red flag, violence, mentioned murder, stalking.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ princesa: princess, mi angelito: my little angel, bonito: handsome/pretty boy, los mataré, entiendes?: i'll kill them, understand?

a/n . . ◟੭ here’s part one! heyy, loves! i’m sorry for the long wait, i have been busy writing other fics and with real life things!

four months.

it has been four months since you left miles and you couldn't feel anymore miserable, your entire world had revolved around him and it was like it stopped the motion the moment you broke up with him.

he hadn't tried anything to approach you or even contact you, part of it made you mad but the other part was relieved because you didn't know what you would do if miles tried to explain himself again while you were still vulnerable.

you have tried to go on multiple dates since then, but they turned out really badly since either the person was the rudest one you have ever met or stood you up. you were tired of that, what was wrong with this people? asking someone on a date just to treat them like shit, then never trying to speak with you again or not show at all.

now you were getting ready for a party, almost done with your look. you had spent most of the time stressing out on what to wear because you wanted attention but not that much attention so you had to figure out something fast.

after deciding which dress to wear you did your makeup and hair, before putting on some short heeled stilettos to finish off the look. you sighed looking at the mirror, maybe today you could forget about him for a while and focus on having fun for once.

grabbing your purse and double checking that everything you needed was inside of it, you left your house. breathing in the fresh air, you started walking to the convenience store, wanting to buy something before calling an uber.

however your plans changed when you noticed a group of men standing there drinking, smoking and looking crazy. you turned, deciding to just make your way back home and call the uber. the streets were dangerous ever since captain morales died and you didn't want to fall victim to any of this men.

"hey, sweetheart! where you going?" one of them noticed you and called out.

you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes together and walking faster.

"now, why are you walking so fast? huh?" the same one that had talked before had ran towards you and caught your arm in his grasp.

"please, leave me alone." now you were scared.

"and why would i do that?" he eyed you from head to toe. "aren't you a doll, wanna go back to my place?"

it sounded like a question but you knew that it wasn't. "listen, i just wanna go home."

"i can go home with you too." he laughed and the others, who you didn't notice had gotten closer, started laughing too.

five grown men surrounding you. this night couldn't get any worse. the one holding you took out a pocket knife and ran it across your face.

"let go of me!" you said, trying to keep it together and not show any fear.

"i don't think so." the man shook his head with a sick grin on his face, lifting the knife from your face and shaking it as well. "now—"

there was a loud slashing sound and suddenly the man was on the floor, blood pooling around him, four deep slashes across his back.

you knew who it was from and you didn't hesitate to run, it was hard on heels but you made it home, locking the door behind you and putting a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs.

miles had just killed someone. right in front of you, he just killed him. you slid down the door, your hand still covering your mouth as tears fell down from your eyes.

"don't cry, mami." the voice scared you but you had no energy to jump at the sound or to start yelling at him for what he did. "that man ain't worth it."

"just leave me alone, please..." you managed to say.

"what if someone tries to break in?" miles asked, kneeling in front of you. "what if you get harassed again? won't you want me there for you? to protect you?"

you finally looked over at him, a claw was laying beside him, covered in blood and his suit had some fresh blood on it.

"you killed them all?" you asked.

"of course i did," he nodded with a sweet smile, making him appear so innocent. "one laid his hands on you while the others just watched. they all deserved what they got."

"you killed them."

"yes, and i would do it again to protect you."

"miles, you killed." you took a shaky breath. "because of me."

"no, princesa." he shook his head. "i killed for you. there is a difference."

"what difference?" you asked angrily. "it's all the same. for me, because of me. it's my fault they died."

"no, it's their fault for messing with what's mine." miles corrected. "i was just protecting you, princesa. if i had let them live they could have attacked you again or another person."

you thought about this, he was right. "they could've attacked another person." you repeated and nodded. "you're right."

"of course, i'm right." miles smirked, knowing that he was breaking through. "i always make sure you're okay, even checking in on the guys you set up your little dates with."

"what?" you asked confused.

"well, some of them weren't nice to my princesa so i had to take care of that. and others didn't deserve a date with you." he shrugged.

"but you only did that to protect me, right?"

"of course, mi angelito." he nodded.

"everything that you have done was for that too?"

"yes," miles nodded, encouraging your thoughts of you needing him. "so will you take me back?"

"yeah," you nodded, wiping your tear stained cheeks with a smile.

"good," miles nodded and grabbed your chin with the same hand he used to kill, pulling you in to leave a peck on your lips. "you are never going to leave me again, understand?"

you nodded.

"i asked if you understand?" he said more forcefully.

"yes, bonito." you answered verbally this time.

miles smirked. "good."

he pulled you back in for a real kiss this time, his mouth coming in contact with yours into a blissful kiss. his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth, fighting yours and winning, exploring every inch of the place he missed so much.

"don't ever think about going out with other men again." miles said between kisses. "los mataré, entiendes?"

"yes." you nodded and pulled him back in to kiss him.

you just missed him so much. why were you so stupid to leave him in the first place? all he wanted was to protect you.

taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho @laylasbunbunny @onginlove @all444miles @banqnaz @yourlocalstranger123 @weirdomcu @ilovemiguelohara28 @tlatziuh @edgyficuselastica @hoseokslefteyebrow (i added the people who were interested in a part two)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Protective Hotch

Description: There is a copycat the BAU are after, so Hotch and reader go to prison to talk to the original offender. The prisoner makes a few suggestive comments about the reader that Hotch doesn't like.

Made up, not a CM episode.

Word Count: 2.5k

______________________________________________________________

You had only ever stepped inside a prison a handful of times before. Literally. You could count every visit on one hand, all whilst being able to recount why you'd gone those 4 times in the first place; now 5.

The first 3 were all for the same thing, and the same person. A serial rapist and murderer you had helped catch years earlier was being interviewed, and not only did you have to supervise, but perform a psych eval on him as well.

The fourth time, you were in and out in record time. Another prisoner you'd put away had died and you were there purely to collect the few belongings in his cell. When the Warden of the Penitentiary had called you to inform you of the inmates passing, you offered to come down from Virginia. The Warden suggested not bothering, and that they'd just throw his belongings in the rubbish bin, which is exactly why you got on the earliest plane you possibly could. This particular inmate had victims he'd not told you about, and you just wanted to make sure with your own eyes he didn't name them in or on anything in his cell.

Today though, on your fifth time inside prison walls, you weren't alone. Your company came in the form of your long time workplace crush, Aaron Hotchner. The pressure of having not only your crush, but the BAU's Unit Chief with you put an immense weight on your shoulders.

Usually you weren't fazed by the cold glares and almost bored expressions. Aaron Hotchner exuded power and had subconsciously mastered the art of intimidation, but that wasn't what made the hairs on the back of your neck stand as he walked beside you, down prison halls.

It was how close beside you he walked. The outside of his arm brushed yours with each step and sway of his arms, and even though you could see, in the corner of your eye, his head facing forward, you could feel his eyes bouncing all over the place.

He stood close not because he wanted to, but because even if every cell door was closed, and every hall had 3 guards tending to it at all times, he didn't feel 100% safe, which meant he wasn't comfortable having you around. Because he knew, that if by some fluke chance the doors buzzed open, you would be every prisoners target.

He knew it. You knew it. The inmates knew it.

"Oh Hey Baby, how about taking a detour and stopping by my cell?" Somebody off to the side hollered, which lead to a loud array of crude comments made your way. You ignored them well, but Hotch seemed to take offence for you. You were almost at the end of the hall, but that didn't stop Hotch from protectively stepping even closer, almost tripping you up with how close he now was.

You both got to the door at the end of the hall, the guard standing beside it nodding at the two of you before letting you in. You walked in first, Hotch shutting the door behind himself as you stepped up to the one sided glass, looking at the man you both were about to question.

"Certainly not the kind of man I'd enjoy being alone with" You stated, Hotch stopped beside you and looking into the visitors room, his arm brushing yours again. Relatively old and greying, Martin Gould was NOT a sight for sore eyes. He wasn't attractive, which is what ended up being a factor of his killings. He'd ask a woman out, she'd reject him, he'd later stalk her, and then rape and mutilate her, in her own home.

"I wouldn't have brought you if I didn't need you. I'm not going to leave your side. I promise" Hotch told you. When you and the team had been going through victimology of the copycats and then compared them to the original killers, you'd all come to the same conclusion. You were his type, to the T.

That's why you were here. Not because your skills were valued and appreciated...but because you were this guys type, and you hated that. You hated feeling like you had to prove yourself more, in a team you'd been in for years. You worked 5 times as hard as everyone else, and yet still felt like you'd gotten nowhere at being seen as an asset to the team. Nobody had ever said it to your face, hell maybe they'd never even thought that way about you, but you were an avid overthinking pessimist.

"Everything is going to be fine" Hotch reassured you again when you didn't reply to his promise. You sighed, grabbing the door that separated you two from Martin Gould.

"Easy for you to say. He raped and mutilated 13 women" Before Hotch got time to process what you'd said and the weight of your words, you opened the door and stepped inside. Martin Gould immediately looked to you as you entered, paying little to no attention to Hotch as he followed behind, and took the seat beside you at the metal table.

"Wow. Just wow" Martin sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his open palm, as he stared at you like you were the brightest star in the sky. At least someone appreciated you.

"Martin, I'm SSA y/n y/l/n, and this is SSA Aaron-"

"Has anyone ever told you you've got the eyes of a rare jewel?" You ignored him, and continued on like he'd never interrupted you in the first place.

"-Hotchner. We're with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit-"

"No ring, I don't see how that's possible. You must have men down at your feet 24/7" Martin interrupted you again, shuffling forward in his seat slightly to get closer to you.

"We're here to investigate a string of serial rape and mutilations. Same signature as yours from 7 years ago" Hotch speaks for the first time, and you both notice Martin's jaw twitch at the sound of his voice. Martin takes a breath, ignoring Hotch before smiling back at you.

"Couldn't be me, Sweetheart" Martin tells you softly, lifting his hands and showing you the chains restricting his movement.

"It's a copycat, somebody who admires you. He's probably sent you hundreds of letters over the course of the last 7 years" Martin holds his smirk as he listens to you, enjoying the sound of your voice and the way your lips move with each word.

"They would've started with him confiding in you, expressing his share of troubles involving women rejecting him. Then they would've started becoming a little more aggressive" You state, Hotch straightening his posture, one of his tells that he's about to talk.

"Probably wrote 'What is wrong with me?' over and over again" Hotch adds, Martin's smile faltering as he speaks again.

"And then his most recent letters would've been him talking about women like we're a virus. Something nasty that could be caught and had to be terminated" Martin shook his head ever so lightly, his smile growing with every second you continued talking to him. He's a classic narcissist and thinks that the fact you're talking directly to him and looking him dead on, means you're flirting with him.

"As pretty as you are, you're just like them, aren't you?" He asked slowly making you frown.

"I'm sorry?" Martin leans forward a tiny bit more, the smile on his face long gone and replaced with a look of repulsion.

"A needy whore, asking for it-"

"That's enough" Hotch stated.

"Begging for it. You all lead us on with your smiles and your glances, but then you laugh in our faces and tell us to get lost" So that's why he thought these women deserved it. Because to him, an innocent smile and a half a second passing by glance meant flirting. So when he'd walk up and randomly ask a woman out and she'd say no, he'd see her as a tease, a deceiver, someone who needed to pay.

"You're nothing less, Agent y/n y/l/n. Just a whore with a bitching, lying mouth, and a pussy asking to be-" Hotch sliding back in his chair and abruptly standing up caught you off guard more than Martin Gould's random verbal attack.

"Y/n, out" Hotch demanded, leaving no room to argue against his direct order. But you did anyway.

"No, Hotch, I'm fine-"

"Y/l/n, out or you're suspended for a week" Your face contorts with shock. Never has Hotch ever been so forward and aggressive towards you in your life and you hated how being on the receiving end of his threat made you feel.

"What?" You stood and raised your voice, finding Hotch completely unreasonable in this moment. You were with a prisoner who know who the unsub was, you could easily get it out of him, and now here he was sending you out. He brought you all this way for a couple sentences?

"You're not being forceful enough, Agent. Bend her over and teach her a-" Martin's words became background noise as Hotch took your arm, backing you up to the door of the visiting room, before opening the door and practically shoving you out. He let go before you could rip your arm from his grasp, and shut the door in your face.

Not knowing what the hell just happened and why the hell Hotch reacted like that, you storm over to the one sided glass window, and slam your palm against the button under the window that allows you to hear what is being said inside the visiting room.

"I don't care who you are, or where we are. If you ever talk to my Agent like that, ever again, I'll make you sure I am the last thing you ever see" Hotch threatened, the look on his face sending a wave of goose bumps over every inch of your burning skin. He looked furious.

"Probably not the best place to threaten killing me, Agent Hotchner" Martin stated, trying to hold back his laughter. It quickly died down at the expression adorning Hotch's face. It was almost like he was being challenged.

"I don't need to kill you to take away your sight, Gould. All I need is a speculum and a pair of scissors" Hotch replied and you watched in shock as for the first time since talking with him, Martin looked anything but cocky. Hotch used Martin's current state to his advantage.

"His name" Martin hesitated, glancing at the one way window like he knew you were standing behind it.

"Dane Hansen" The second the name left his mouth, Hotch was turning around and exiting the visiting room, only to be met with an annoyed you, giving him the cold shoulder. His eyes stayed glued to yours as he shut the door behind himself.

"Don't give me that look."

"I was given about 10 seconds from the first time you told me to get out before you threatened to suspend me. If you want me gone just say it, Hotch" You knew you were probably being unreasonable but you were annoyed. What so quickly went from 'get out' turned to 'if you don't you're suspended'. It escalated in seconds and made you wonder how long they'd been sitting on the tip of Hotch's tongue.

"Was I the only one that heard the way he talked about you?" Hotch questioned, clearly annoyed by your assumption. You take a step toward him.

"Simply sending me out of the room doesn't stop me from hearing it, Hotch" You brought attention to your hand by tapping the button again, turning off the speaker. Hotch took a step forward.

"He was getting satisfaction out of you being in the room" My presence. My face. My body. Not my skills, and Hotch knew that. He only brought me to show me off.

"Be honest with me, Hotch. Do you bring me along for these things because you think I'm the worst profiler on the team, so I won't be needed as much back there with everyone?" Hotch frowns at me, turning his head to the right slightly.

"I have never once called you a bad profiler."

"You've never called me a good one either, Aaron. Believe it or not, but I'm one of those people that need to be told they're doing good to keep doing good. I need the validation, otherwise I lose energy and end up giving a half assed effort" You immediately realised the first name slip, but if Hotch noticed it he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he takes another step that makes him dangerously close. You can smell his musky cologne, and if either of you take another step your face would be buried in his chest.

"Y/n, you're not a good profiler, you're an amazing profiler. I didn't bring you along today to show you off as a piece of meat to Gould. You're his type, but so is Prentiss. I wanted you here. I wanted you on the plane, and I wanted you in the car. I like your company, I like your perspective and I like your brain" You suck in a shaky breath, embarrassingly overwhelmed so quickly by Hotch's compliment. Even though it's only a few things, it means so much because he's not the kind of guy to get even slightly sentimental about anything.

"You think I don't notice when the overthinking side of you takes over the reasonable side? You're an asset to our team, y/n. I didn't bring you along for the benefit of the case, I brought you along for myself" Tense silence consumes the room and the air the two of you breathe. For what feels like minutes, you two stand, almost toe to toe staring at each other.

There's an achingly intense energy floating around the two of you, and before looks go any further or before either of you can slice the tension in half, Hotch's phone rings, and you both rear back at the shriek.

Your shoulders sag in disappointment and you swear you see the same with Hotch's, but he's back in boss mode too fast for you to really catch a good look as he listens to somebody on the other end of the line.

"We're just heading out now. Yeah, we got a name; Dane Hansen" Hotch ends the phone call and his eyes meet yours again as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"We've got to go" You press your lips into a tight smile and nod. Walking past him, you go to grab the door that'll lead you back into the hall, but before you reach it a large, warm hand wraps around your wrist stopping you.

You turn back to Hotch, and again he's toe to toe with you. His grip on your arm is soft, and the look on his face mixed with his parted lips tells you all you need to know; he wants to say something.

You don't know what he's thinking, but you also don't want to force it out of him. You smile and slowly pull away from his grip before patting his arm.

"It's okay, Aaron. Come on, let's go."

______________________________________________________________

[heartfullofleeches]

Some background on my college yan and older neighbor reader because I love both very much

Tedric "Teddie" Jones- [he/they]

Teddie has always been a quiet and reserved guy. Sheltered by their parents due to difficulties at birth, Teddie would eventually receive his first taste of the macabre world as a young teen when a mishap at the local movie rent had him receiving a documentary on serial killers in the state instead of the age appropriate film his parents had picked for them. Saving all their allowance and birthday money to fuel their new obsession, now 23 year old Teddie Jones chemistry major is a horror fanatic, and has had vivid fantasies about tormenting those who have caused trouble in their life - but never the drive to commit such acts

Like many in the community, he avoided Reader when they first moved in per instruction of his parents. Through brief interaction over the years, he framed them as someone to be cautious of, though admired their independency and closed off nature. When rumors of their past began to pop up, he was the first to do some digging and his admiration only grew. The two wouldn't formally meet until one afternoon when his normally attentive parents forgot to tell him they had had the locks changed that very morning. Not wanting to be caught in the brewing storm, Teddie knocked on reader's door and asked if they could climb their fence to get to his backyard. Reader refused as they wouldn't be able to get over without a few scrapes and instead invited them inside to wait it out. With the way reader stared at him, a part of Teddie feared there was more to their generosity and lured him in with the gesture of kindness to add them to the growing roster of missing persons reports, but as soon as Teddie sat down they-

Just talked.

Reader asked how he was doing in school. How his parents were. They asked why he never used that skateboard they saw his dad bring home for him which Teddie had to bashfully explain he had fallen too many times for the idea of learning to be fun. It was the only time their expression changed during the conversation. They scolded him for giving up so easily and told him to bring it over if he ever got the chance. Within two weeks, Teddie had a new mode of transportation to and from school. When he asked why they helped him Reader said he reminded them a lot of themself when they were younger. Always afraid of the what-ifs and pain in spite of taking action. They didn't want him to end up like them at their age - alone with no one to turn to.

In that short timeframe, Reader became Teddie's rock. Whenever he had a problem they were who he fled to without a second thought. They shared their knowledge with him and in turn Teddie tried to be that same beacon of light for them they had been for him. He wanted to be their crutch, someone they could depend on in their darkest hour. Whenever he had thoughts of hurting others they always showed up in some fashion - encouraging them for his bravery or clutching their hands around his as the two drove a blade into the chest of their victim. They'd wash off in the shower together and Teddie would finally get to see more of their bedroom than just the glimpses he caught from his window. They'd lie together and with adrenaline still coursing through their veins, Teddie would finally know the warmth of another living being. They wondered if the kids would be reader's first as well. They dreamed they'd be each other's first in other ways, but would be fine with any outcome that ended with them both happy and in each other's arms.

Teddie is aware Reader sees them as someone to mentor which they use to their advantage to receive a taste of what their heart truly desires. They beg on their knees for dating practice so they can ask out someone they met at a party. Some make out experience would be nice too. Teddie works hard to someday become the person Reader can proudly call their own. They want to give Reader the youth they lost and take them heal their wounded heart to the world around them. The people in it can all burn for what they've done to them, but there's so much good the two can do together it all out weights the bad. If only they'd give him the chance.

"Reader"

Ranging somewhere from late 20s to early 30s- Reader was severely in high school for the hapless crime of being in the wrong place in the wrong century, Reader's misfortune only got worse as the one time they fought back to result in the head trauma and later death of a bully. At this point their harassment had escalated to borderline torture which left Reader with scars to this day. Through witness testimony and their injuries, Reader was not punished by the law by tradition means and instead sent away from the psychological damage they innocent caused.

Mostly free from their past, Reader could not return home after what happened and moved into a suburban neighborhood in a home owned by a distant relative who had passed and descendants who couldn't bother with the upkeep. Reader has made their peace, but is still haunted by ghosts and lessens their stress by avoiding relatively everyone. Well, mostly everyone. They take pity on the shy kid next door, seeing a reflection of themselves in him. When they heard they knock at their door they see a chance to right some of their wrongs and help the poor guy out. With their assistance, that quiet guy comes more out of their shell by the day and even managed to make a couple friends at their college. They couldn't be prouder.

Teddie still clings to their hip which puzzles them now that he has others who tolerate his company, but it's nice to have another voice in their barren fortress they call a home. Their age gap isn't too far off, but Reader can't help but find some of his mannerisms a little.. odd. Sometimes he waits on their porch like a lost puppy despite having a key, and he seems damn near obsessed with their love life which is pretty much non-existent. Must be just city things. They brush off his more outlandish queries and jokes that they'll kiss him if he gets a high enough score on his paper. The color drains from their face when the results are sent out and Teddie waits excitedly for their reward

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Listing a few funny things that happened when Angel had to deal with the media, post rescuing everyone from Playtime Co:

Angel, still shaking from spending one week inside the factory and with dried blood still glued to their hair, smelling like hell, politely answering some questions while in the hospital while waiting for Dogday's emergency surgery to finish.

The media being obsessed with calling Angel, whose actual name is Raphael Taylor de Oliveira, "Angel" the moment they hear one of the toys referring to them as that.

Combine the religious imagery with Angel's poor little meow meow wet kitten born in a cardboard box with every disease face and we have a very, very easy way for making the narrative out to be "a kind ex-worker at Playtime Co. discovers that children were used as experiments inside the factory and risks their own life in order to save them".

Angel is instant-loved by Brazil the moment the first news start to arrive, which is something they're very proud of.

Angel having to hold Catnap and Mommy Long Legs by their hands while giving out an interview in their home, so neither one of them would be too mean to the poor reporters. Angel still has to tell them to be nicer though.

The cops and investigators having to explain why they didn't figure out there was something wrong with the factory when all Angel had to do was walk inside and say hello to the Huggy Wuggy statue.

A reporter explaining the horrific events while in the background Huggy stares at her like "smoll person :0}" and boops her. Cue to Angel saying sorry and anxiously guiding him away.

"What did you have to eat while trapped down there?", someone asks, and the toys all go "oh hahahaha. uhm. rats. and the bodies of our friends WHEN THEY INEVITABLY DIED FROM A DISEASE. we didnt hunt each other dw dw hahahahahaha".

Angel a few months later, after buying the farm, giving a "house tour" so people will know the kids are doing okay and stop pestering them about house-related questions. Angel is very excitedly telling the reporter about how much more space they have now while Catnap is eyeing a bird in the background. "Theo don't you think about that, you have food right there".

One of the mini critters listing all the toys that were gifted for them and saying "it's very nice, very chewable", I like how it tastes" and Angel looks at them like "so it's YOU who has been chewing the toys??????", with the reply being "and the doors as well!"

Catnap going from referring to Angel as "our savior" to simply "our mother" during any interviews or news reports where he somehow talks.

Everyone wanting to interview Dogday because he does, indeed, have a radiant and happy energy and audiences love him.

Angel saying "and the hut is the house of 1006, the first one to ever happen, but he would prefer if we just left him alone".

Poppy being someone who's always SUPER pleasant to work with, and excitedly telling the reporters everything they have been doing around the farm.

Angel sighing after finding out Prototype is Elliot Ludwig, KNOWING they'll have to tell the authorities so they can have license money and control over the Playtime Co. brand.

Angel turning to the family's lawyer like "you won't believe what I just found out", the lawyer saying "oh, this won't be the most absurd thing you told me yet", then after hearing Angel tell her about it going "oh, you are always full of surprises, uh. Uhm. Now that makes things complicated", and Angel laughing to the point of tears after that.

ALL the news reports during the trial against Playtime Co.'s higher ups and the negligent authorities. Kickin keeps a collection of the "best moments", which include Angel beating the ever living shit out of a higher up after he refers to the toys as "things" and "collateral damage" instead of "victims of human experimentation".

The news about the fact that apparently Elliot Ludwig became the first PlayCo. experiment ever, and Angel + Poppy having to deal with THAT.

Prototype's single public apparition, around 4/5 years post-rescue, because he had to go to court as well so Angel would have a chance of getting the rights to PlayCo. and all of its properties back to them.

The news when Dogday and Catnap get married, a whole decade post-rescue.

Angel just dropping the most cryptid information ever in social media or during one of the rare interviews they're willing to give after the initial years post-rescue. They tweet things like "I saw some people asking if any of the toys ever attacked me during the week I stayed at PlayCo, and I want everyone to know that all of them at some point did. But don't worry, I bit them back, we're all good now" and one time say "my husband and I like to grow tomatoes like this, but one of our daughters has been trying another way" and that's how everyone finds out Angel and Prototype are a Thing.

Craftycorn happily blogging her life as an artist and featuring all of the other toys during her videos, while Poppy does makeup and sewing tutorials, and the two of them doing collabs and livestreams often. During one of the streams Angel screams "THEODORE GRAMBELL LUDWIG OLIVEIRA DID YOU JUST HUNT A COYOTE AGAIN", and that's how Crafty and Poppy's fans discover everyone decided to add Ludwig Oliveira to their names.

I would say more but honestly this post has been getting pretty long so rip

[writeandsurvive]

Summary: Alden mistakes your relationship with Tobias Fornell for something it is not

Warnings: talks of grief, mentions of Emily Fornell's death, attack by a frame, wound, blood, jealousy, NCIS normal stuff

Author's note: I still think Emily's death was unnecessary but that's another debate. I had to give Tobias love bc damnit, he deserves the world. Based on ep 19x17 'Starting Over'

Permission ~ Alden Parker

Seeing Tobias Fornell walking into the bullpen brought some familiarity that instantly warmed your heart. You rushed to him, arms extended and hugged him pretty tight. "Hi sweetheart," he whispered, kissing the side of your head and returning the hug. He then greeted the rest of the team, included Alden, whom he hasn't seen in a long time. You smiled seeing them being friendly with each other and wished to see more of that.

Tobias started to talk about the victim, whom he sponsored in the grieving group, but it wasn't any help as Tobias thought Thomas was making progress. Eventually, the team got back to their desks to keep investigating while your favorite person said he was going to say hello to Jimmy down in Autopsy.

"Permission to go with?" You asked Alden.

"Um, yeah, sure."

You immediately grabbed Tobias's hand and the two of you walked towards the elevator, unaware that Alden stared until you were out of sight. In the elevator, the former FBI agent pulled you in for another hug. "How are you today, T?" You asked softly.

"I feel like I failed Thomas." He sighed. "But I'm glad to see you. I miss you."

"I miss you too. I'm sorry work has been crazy lately,"

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. I know how it is. I guess I miss having you at home."

After Emily's death, you made the choice to move in with Tobias without asking for his opinion. He was a mess - fairly so - and you didn't like the idea of him being alone. So you had grabbed your essentials, and made yourself at home in his spare bedroom. To be fair, Tobias hadn't had the strength to fight you on this, so he just let you. He even let you when you took a few days off to stay with him, try to get him out of bed even if it was just for a walk around the block. He let you feed him, hug him as he cried, take care of the house. You also took care of Emily's funeral and all the paperwork as Tobias couldn't bring himself to do it. He was dead inside and if it wasn't for you, he probably would've done the irreparable.

"You literally packed my stuff and brought them back to my place." You reminded him.

"Because an amazing woman like you shouldn't be living with her old ass broken friend." He kissed your cheek. "Alden wouldn't understand." He softly smiled.

"We are so not doing this again."

Luckily the elevator's doors opened immediately after.

The case was moving forward, and Tobias stayed around. He clearly wanted to be a part of the case, probably out of guilt and also perhaps he missed working cases. However Alden wasn't giving him anything to do, which makes sense when you think about it - he wasn't a federal agent anymore - but that frustrated you. Seeing your friend walking around the office like a lost puppy hurt.

"I can give T my laptop and he can help me with my research." You offered.

"I said no, Agent L/N." Alden answered firmly. "You're actually coming with me to see this other woman."

You sighed but grabbed your stuff anyways. You kissed Tobias's cheek before leaving, "Sorry I tried." You whispered.

Throughout the elevator ride and the walk to the car, you could feel Alden's frustration. He wasn't speaking to you like he usually is, he wasn't even looking at you. "T could use the distraction." You said, as you got into the car.

"It doesn't have to be our case. He's not an fed anymore and he knew the victim."

"And he feels like he failed the guy! Helping us would actually help him."

"Wow." Alden chuckled dryly.

"What?"

"For years I've heard about this girl who would protect Fornell with her life, go after anyone who went after him. I honestly thought she didn't exist, but boy was I wrong."

"Do you have a problem with my relationship with Tobias?" You asked, slightly offended.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with your work and our cases, I honestly don't care."

You switched from offended to hurt. How stupid were you for thinking that Alden may reciprocate your crush. He clearly wasn't, he couldn't care less about you on a personal level. You stayed silent the rest of the ride, looking at the city through the window. Alden didn't talk either.

The silence treatment didn't stay on for long, as Thomas's other girlfriend threw a frame at Alden's after he told her about his actual wife. You jumped from the couch to check on him. "Alden, hey! You okay? Can you hear me?" He was holding his forehead but you still saw some blood dripping. "Let me see." You gently pulled his hand away and check at the wound. "Yeah you're gonna need some stitches."

The woman was still crying and shouting at you two to get out of her house. For a moment, you consider arresting her for assaulting a federal agent, but Alden simply said 'let's go' and you were walking back to the car.

You started to fish inside his coat pocket. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the car keys." You checked the other one.

"Pants." He said, leaning against the car. "Tell me you have a tissue or something?"

After looking at him for a second, you shrugged and searches for the keys in his pants pockets. You knew it was highly inappropriate but your hands behind so close to him and his crotch, did something to you. You took a deep breath before opening the car. Once inside, you took your knife and cut a piece of your shirt. "Again, what are you doing?"

"You need some tissue."

"Well yeah but not from your own clothes."

"I don't have anything else, so it's either that or your fancy suit."

He sighed but didn't argue. You pulled his hand away again, and started to clean the blood that dripped out of the wound. You were so gentle, and so close to Alden, it made him uncontrollably blush. When you brushed his hair away, he closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling. "I'm not hurting you?" You asked softly, making his heart go faster.

"N-no. It's okay."

"It's going to be fun for you to explain this scar." You giggled.

"Better than explaining the one I have on my thigh."

When he saw the curiosity on your face and your grin, he regretted every word. "Don't--"

"What happened to your thigh, Alden?" You asked, still grining. "Hold this until you get back to the office."

"I won't tell you."

You settled back into your seat and started to drive. "I can be pretty annoying and stubborn."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

You gave a death stare but a few seconds later, you were both laughing.

You didn't bother going to the bullpen but instead took Alden immediately to Jimmy in Autopsy, where Tobias and Grace were.

"I got an patient for you, Jim!" You announced almost cheerfully.

"Oh wow, what happened to you, Parker?"

Alden sat on the chair Jimmy gave him. "He got attacked by a frame." You told them, after hugging Grace.

"Aaah, those nasty things." Tobias chuckled. You moved close to him, as he was leaning against an autopsy table. You grabbed his arm with yours and leaned your head on his shoulder, and started to tell the full story while Jimmy was patching up Alden. He barely looked at you or Tobias.

Alden really tried to avoid you after that, but it was almost impossible. He hated how you told the story of his wound, not because you were saying it with a smile, but because all he could think about was the after, in the car. He could still smell you from up close, he could still feel your minty breath on his face. He's never been into a friend's girlfriend before and he had no idea what to do. All he knew was how he hated whenever you hug, kissed or touched Tobias, how jealous he felt when he heard you and Tobias making plan for the evening. Clearly you were spending the night at T's place, and he wished it was him. He almost found an excuse to make you stay but realized how petty that was. This case couldn't end fast enough.

The next day, Alden was relieved to see you coming in without Tobias. You stopped at his desk, to grab a pastry and leaned a little to have a closer look at his wound. "It's good you don't have a bruise or anything else. It is hurting?" You asked. He wished you weren't this sweet and thoughtful with him.

"It throbs at times but it's okay. I'll live."

"Good, would be a shame to lose you to a framed picture." You smiled and walked to your own desk.

A minute later, a text popped on his phone. 'What happened to your thigh?' he read. He looked up to you and you were looking all innocent, concentrating on your computer.

'None of your business. Stop thinking about my thigh and get to work.' he answered, and regretted it immediately. Was he flirting with you through texts? God, Tobias was going to give him a matching wound on the other side.

'Can't help it. Is it a big or small scar? Where is it exactly?'

Were you flirting back? Alden's head was exploding. What kind of woman were you to do something like this? And why couldn't stop himself from answering.

'Want me to show you?'

'Bet.'

It was official, Alden Parker was going to hell. But he was happy cause he knew he would take you with him.

It wasn't a Tobias Fornell free day. He showed up in the afternoon to check on the team and the case. Alden agreed for him to have an update, which you happily gave him. Tim and Nick were out of the office to interrogate your other suspect, and Jess was in the lab, checking things with Kasie. So, Tobias simply grabbed a chair and settled next to you. Alden felt extremely uncomfortable, especially when he noticed how your behavior towards his friend was the same. Like there hasn't been some speakable texts between you two earlier. He felt bad for Tobias. The man has been through so much over the years and now this.

At some point, Alden couldn't take it anymore so he excused himself and walked away. Almost immediately, Tobias kissed your cheek and said he'd be right back. "Fornell, don't do whatever I feel like you're gonna do!" You exclaimed.

"I love you." He mouthed and disappeared at the same corner Alden did. You sighed and your heart started to race.

When Alden saw Tobias coming in the bathroom, he expected to be punch soon enough. Should he prepared himself to duck or should he let Fornell hit him? After all, he did deserve that punch and maybe more. But Tobias was smiling.

"You okay, Fornell?"

"Are you?"

"I-huh? Yeah?"

"How long are you going to beat around the bush, Parker?"

"Um, what? What are you talking about?"

"I know that Gibbs had the rule 12 about dating a coworker. And Y/N learned the job through his rules, but come on. This one has been broken many times, even by Gibbs himself."

"Look Tobias, I'm sorry, okay? I know I shouldn't be interested your girlfriend, and it'll go away. I promise you, nothing--" Alden stopped when he heard a laugh coming from Tobias.

"Wait, you think she's my girl?"

"She's not?" Alden exclaimed, a bit to intensely.

"Okay, let's go get a coffee."

In the breakroom, they sat at a table, cups of coffee in front of them. "I'm gonna be honest, if my life has been different and if I was significantly younger, she would have a ring around her finger and I'd have kicked your ass." Tobias started.

"Fair enough."

"My relationship with her is--special, to say the least. A while ago, she named us 'platonic soulmates' and I guess it fits." Alden nodded. "And if you want to date her, you're gonna have to be okay with that."

"Obviously." Alden chuckled. "Clearly if she had to choose, it'd be you." He took a sip of his coffee. "But even though I'm slightly younger than you, I'm still much older than her."

"And does it seem like something she would mind?" Alden shook his head no after a few seconds. "Look man, you will not be able to help a better partner than her. We're talking about someone who moved in with me after my daughter passed away to support me. She even used her vacation time for that. She handled everything for me, even though she was hurt too cause she knew Emily for almost ten years. I literally had to move her out of my place, and honestly, I only did after she told she had a crush on you."

Alden was extremely moved by what he was hearing. He knew you were someone very special, someone who would give and do everything for the ones she loves, but this was another level. It made him fall for you even more.

"I don't even know what to say." He answered honestly.

"She deserves to be happy and loved. And as much as I love her, it's a different kind of love. Not the kind of love, I know you can give her."

Alden stayed silent. "However, if you just want to hook up cause she's insanely hot, find someone else."

"That's not the kind of man I am."

"I believe you. But never forget that I still have a gun, and you saw me use it a few times."

The case finally came to an end, and you were all very happy and relieved. Alden has been distant from you since his conversation with Tobias and T refused to tell you what they talked about. It was driving you crazy, and even making you feel uncomfortable whenever your team leader was around. What did he know? What did he think?

After coming back from the lab to the bullpen, you were surprised to see everyone was gone except for Alden, who was still typing at his computer. "Where's everyone?" You asked, avoiding looking at him.

"I sent them home."

"Oh, okay."

You started to work on your paperwork again before Alden spoke up again. "You can go too. Tobias is probably waiting for you."

This time, you did look at Alden who was still focus on his screen. "Wait, what do you think my relationship with Toby is exactly?"

Alden finally stopped typing and looked up to you. "What is your relationship with Tobias exactly?" He asked.

You sighed. This was taking you back a few years back when the guy you were dating was getting jealous of Tobias, accusing you of having an affair with him, being in love with him. And you hated that. "Like I said, if you have a problem with--" Alden stood up from his chair and walked over to your desk. He leaned against it, his body fairly close to you.

"I don't have any problem with it. It's obvious that if I want to have you, I need to accept him."

You looked at him, all lost and confused. "Wait--what? What do you--? What?"

Chuckling, Alden crotched down and made you chair spin so you were facing him. "Would you allow me to take you on a date? I've got Tobias's permission." He said with a huge smile.

You stayed silent for a moment, mouth opened. "Are you serious, right now?"

He stood up just enough so that he could grab your chin and gently pressed his lips against the corner of your mouth. You melted under his touch. "Very serious."

"Will you show me your thigh and tell me the story?" You whispered making him laugh.

[itsohh]

Despite Part 4

A/N: Female reader

Summary: After a busy few weeks of work, Albert finds the time to show up once again at your apartment. This time for personal reason, to ask you out.

Warnings: Mention of harassment.

Word count: 2094

AO3 Masterlist Part 3 Part 5

“Tell me what you feel.”

“It hurts.”

-

It was late afternoon, music filled the air around you. Your focus was on the papers that were displayed all around you. There was a decent amount of photos, most of them rarer gorey and off-putting for most. Not you though, hyper-focused on the information in front of you, you didn't hear the knock at the door. Not until about the third knock when it cut through the music and you jumped up. 

You quickly rushed over to the door and opened it. There stood your Captain, he wore a plain black shirt and dress pants. It was one of the first times you had seen him in something that wasn't the S.T.A.R.S. uniform.

“Oh Captain Wesker, I didn't expect,” your hands felt your body for the pager on your hip. “Ah did something happen with the pager system? Is everything-”

“-I'm not here on business.” His face was directly on yours and your breath hitched for a moment. Your blood raced inside of you and you couldn’t help the way that your mind short-circuited slightly.

It had been two weeks since the pair of you shared that moment on the RPD roof, both of you had been so busy in the storm of work that had ramped up just after Christmas neither of you had a chance to talk about it. “I see, please come in.” You opened the door for him to enter and you slipped away from it back to your living room. “Shoes off please!” You called over your shoulder and went towards your record player. The music turned from a loud storm into a small simmer of background sound after you turned it down. 

When you stood back up you were met with the sight of Albert in his plain black socks next to your couch. His eyes were on the case files that decorated almost the entire couch, coffee table and floor. “Ah forgive the mess, I would have tidied up if I knew you were coming.” You moved to pick up the papers and organise them into a stack. 

“I recognise this, one of the department's cold cases. A serial killer active from 1989 to 1993. Killed 15 women.” His head turned to you and you pressed your lips together. 

“That's right, it almost became 16 when his victim got away and he didn't resurface.” 

“Planning on becoming a detective are we?” He folded his arms as he leaned against the wall behind your couch and you let out a laugh. 

“Gods no.”

“You just spend your free time working?”

“I like to familiarise myself with history. How can I avoid making the mistakes of the past if I don't know it? It helps in recognizing things in the field.” You looked away from the man for a second. “I'm also a bit curious, to be honest, from a medical standpoint.”

“Some people might not like you bringing up old cold cases.” 

“Don't worry I'm not making a fuss. I'm just looking at them, not unless I find something really big. It would be cruel to give the victims' families false hope.” You finished stacking the files and moved them from your living room into your home office where your computer was. There you put the files into your desk cabinet and locked it. 

When you returned to the living room you found Wesker looking at a notebook that you had left out. “You’re rather thorough in your observations,” Wesker spoke without looking up from it. 

“If you're going to do something you might as well do it right.” You shrugged and he put the notebook back on the coffee table. 

“Your phone is still disconnected, I tried calling.” Your eyes went to the phone on the other side of your couch on a side table. The cable was still ripped out. “I haven't got around to changing my number again.” 

Albert's brow raised just above his sunglasses and you found a seat on the armchair that sat on the short side of the coffee table. 

“It's a whole thing, an old fling that won't leave me alone. He's harmless, just annoying.” 

Wesker leaned forward and you could see the subtle changes in his face, the way it hardened at the information. “Are you being stalked?” The direct question had you choke for a moment and you shook your head. 

“No. He never shows up in person, just calls me a lot. We had a casual thing going on and then he tried to start playing games and wasting my time so I broke things off. He never really got over that. It's just easier to have it off the hook. You guys normally page me anyway.”

“I need to be able to contact you.”

“You can just page me.”

“We both know why I can't page you asking to go to dinner now can I?” 

The question had you freeze and your lips parted. “You want to take me out for dinner? What, tonight?”

“It's the only night I have off after all.”

“Yeah, I'd like to. I just ugh- first I want to make sure we're on the same page. Romantically speaking, I don’t want what we've got to blow up in our faces. ” 

Albert leaned back on your couch and nodded for you to continue. “I normally do casual things just to destress and whatnot but I don't want that with you. I enjoy your company too much for that.” Heat rushed to your face and you tried to keep your voice as level as you possibly could. 

“This can't affect our workplace. Ever. Neither of us should ever hesitate because of this, I don't want special treatment, nothing. But on the flip side, I don't want you to go harder on me because of it. We stay the same. You're my Captain and I'm under your command.”

“Responsible enough, I agree.”

“Out here though when it's just the pair of us I want us to be equals. Always. There's no rank, no nothing.” 

“Of course.”

“In the worst case scenario and this doesn't work out it can't affect work. Or if we fight we have to put that aside. What’s part of work stays in work and what personal stays personal.”

“Were reasonable enough adults, I'm sure we'll manage.” Albert's head tilted down and his sunglasses slid down ever so slightly. The angle allowed him to look over them and directly at you, those pale grey-blue eyes into yours. 

“I believe this goes without saying but since we're putting everything on the plate, I don't share.” 

“I figured that, I've made a few calls.” 

He side-eyed your phone and you shrugged. 

“It's only physically disconnected, I plug it back in when I make outgoing calls.”

“Call your phone company, they can have his number blocked.” Albert pushed the middle of his glasses up on his face which hid his eyes once again. 

“It is, he uses payphones.” Albert opened his mouth but you continued speaking before he could say anything. “Look he's just annoying that's all, I feel kinda sorry for the dude. Yeah, he's a pain but he's not a bad man. You don't have to do anything alright? I know where your mind is going, I'll get my number changed, it's just a hassle I've been putting off.” 

“Hmm.” His hand reached for your face where his bent knuckles brushed against your cheek. Silently you leaned into his touch and your eyes flicked close as you enjoyed his touch. They brushed back and once again his hand cupped the side of your face. His hand was closed, the top of his thumb settled to the side of your outer eye and his fingers rested on the connection from your check to your neck. 

Wesker's palm was rather close to your lips. It gave you the opportunity to rotate your head and plant a kiss on it before you moved back into place. 

“Go out to dinner with me?” He finally asked directly.

You nodded which made the corner of his lips curl. “Do you mind if I go get ready? I hardly think this qualifies for whatever you have planned.” You gestured to the basic shirt and sweatpants you wore. 

“Take as long as you need, wear something nice.”

You stood up from the armchair and disconnected from the man. “I'll try not to be too long, feel free to change up the record if you like.” You smiled at him and he watched as you left the room and headed to your bedroom. 

About an hour later you stepped out of your bedroom in a rather long velvet dress. The dark blue dress would keep you warm and where the slit in the dress showed your legs, your pantyhose would do. You walked down the hallway from the master bedroom with a pair of heels in hand, you had already tapped up your feet to prevent any pain or pressure from them before you put on your pantyhose. 

When you reached the living room you found Wesker still rather interested in your notebook while music still softly played in the background. He had changed it at some point. If it was because the album had finished or because he preferred the change you didn't know. “Fleetwood Mac?” You raised a brow and sat down in the armchair to put your shoes on. 

“I find it more agreeable than most of your collection.”

The comment had you laugh and raise a brow. “Not a fan of rock?”

“It's distracting.” 

“Yeah, that's typically the idea.” You stood up from the chair and grabbed your wallet from the table. Every step you took echoed slightly on the wooden floor and you slipped the wallet into a small bag with a spaghetti strap. 

“How do I look?” You smiled and posed slightly for the man. The notebook slapped on the coffee table and he stood up from the couch. He didn't say anything until he was directly in front of you. The heels on your feet changed up your height but that didn't seem to matter to him. He leaned in towards you, his nose briefly brushed against your own and his lips once again took their time against yours. 

“Stunning.” His voice was low when the pair of you parted. “You look stunning, perfect.”

“Good. Shall we head out then? Doctor Wesker.” You paused before you said his name your eyes focused on the way he flashed you his teeth for a second. 

“It's not often I'm called that. When it's the pair of us, Albert is fine.” 

“Albert.” You clicked your tongue and tested his name. “How many people have the honour of calling you that?”

“Not many.”

A hum left your lips and you stepped back in to kiss the man once more. The action towards him was still rather new to you and took your breath away slightly with each moment. It was something you could certainly get used to. Despite him knowing exactly how lethal you could be, there was a level of gentleness whenever he touched you. His large fingers were careful not to bruise your skin when he cupped your face, his lips were somewhat little forceful but never imposing, it was a side of him that you never would have seen in the workplace. 

You took a step to head to the door only for your ankle to buckle. With wide eyes, you stumbled only to be promptly caught by Albert. His hand shot out at almost inhuman speed and grabbed your elbow. “Thanks, sorry. It's been a while since I wore anything like this.” 

“Hmm, no need to for my sake. I’d rather you be able to walk tomorrow.” He let go of your arm.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides, it’s nice to dress up once in a while.”

“Has it been a long time?” Albert asked as you went for your apartment door and the pair of you walked out into the hallway.

“Yeah, gods. I don’t even know the last time I dressed up let alone went on a date. I think maybe graduation.” You reached the elevator and stepped inside. 

“We’ll have to fix that then.”

You raised a brow at the man. “Already planning the next one? Aren't you thinking ahead a bit much?” Your voice was a tease as the elevator descended. 

“Am I wrong too? I plan everything I do that is worthwhile.”

“I'm worthwhile huh?” 

“Exceptionally.” 

[reidwitchsblog]

My Ticci Toby HC

Warning: 18+ content, mention of dead animals, mention of people’s death, mention of scars, wrong use of punctuation marks.

Author’s note: While I take my sweet time writing the second part of my fict, enjoy this little headcanons that have been on my mind.

Author’s note 2: I created this playlist that basically captures everything you need to know about the way I hc him.

Minors DNI.

PERSONALITY

His personality is, for a lack of better words, eerie. Most of the time he is silent and observant, and due to his past he doesn’t show his true personality often, but rather he morphs into a person that he thinks the others will like, it could be a mature young man, or a sarcastic little shit.

I believe that when he kills, he tortures his victims due to the fact that the concept of pain is foreign to him. He enjoys to try different torture methods

His biggest desire is to have a home. It is something he keeps a secret from others, not really because he is afraid of being made fun of, but rather because he feels that as long as no one knows, the fact that it’s never going to happen will hurt less. So he keeps that deep inside him, in a safe place, like a little photograph that he can take out and look when he is feeling down.

As much as he despises being angry (it reminds him of his dad), he can’t help it, he is his father’s son after all. When he gets mad, his first instinct is to bear his teeth and growl. And if the person he is fighting with doesn’t take the cue, he will attack, aiming for the throat as soon as he has the opportunity.

And talking about dogs, HE LOVES LIKE A HOUND DOG, once that he catch a scent that is appealing to him, there is nothing, and no one, that’s able to stop him. He is going to chase it until he has it in his maw, without very little regard as to whether he is hurting himself.

PHYSICAL

I see many people saying that my man is the shortest one out of all proxies, but, respectfully, I think they are wrong. He just gives me tall man vibes, HOWEVER, I think his poor posture makes him stand at 6’0, when he normally is 6’2, which comes really handy when he wants to scare his victims.

We all agree that he has the most beautiful light brown eyes, they are like pools of honey, warm and inviting, which contrast massively with the scowl he seems to permanently wear.

Although he is more on the skinny side, he has gained some muscles over the years due to all the physical work he does; chopping wood, running around, carrying his victims… sadly he covers them with either flannels or grandpa sweaters.

Still on the topic of grandpa sweaters, he looooves them, mainly because they remind him of his late sister, whose last Christmas present were two brown and green sweaters. His to go outfit is a short sleeved band shirt, a flannel, a pair of dark denim jeans, his old shearling jacket and and a pair of black Converse. When he is alone is his cabin he opts for a wife beater and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

His whole body is covered in scars, most of them being self inflicted, and fewer being the ones made by his bravest victims that naively thought that a knife would’ve stopped Toby from killing them. He doesn’t hate them per say, he even thinks some of them are cool, but in the coldest nights, when he is alone with his thoughts, he can’t help but to despise every single part of his body, including his scars.

RANDOM HC

He has a small collection of various trinkets hidden in a wooden box beneath his bed. Some of them are old photos with his sister, rocks that he thought they were pretty, keychains that he stole from different gas stations, etc. At first glance it would look just like a pile of crap, but I can assure you everything has a reason to be there.

He was born in Germany but moved to South Carolina when he was 5.

He enjoys listening to music, his favorite genre is old rock. The Rolling Stones, Queen, Van Morrison, Fleetwood Mac, Bon Jovi, Blondu… his favorite song is “Brown eyed Girl” and you can’t change my mind.

He is the softest person when it comes to animals, he feels so bad when he finds any dead animal near the road, and he always gives them a proper burial, he even says some words along the lines of “the world was cruel to you when all you wanted was some warmth”. He so cried with the poem about spiders.

⋆｡°✩ — ©️ reidwitchsblog, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.

[mandowifey]

Headcanon request for either Albert Shaw or Arthur Harrow as a dad. But honestly, I would accept such a Headcanon for any villianeous character you write about. So surprise me.

This has been sitting in my head for awhile, so I'm excited to get to work on it.

I'm gonna do both these handsome fellas!

° ° °

Fatherhood

Albert Shaw & Arthur Harrow x Reader HCs

Warnings: Hints of Dubcon, definitely Noncon, implications of above mentions, crazy boys around kids, reader is not referred to by specific gender terms but is able to get pregnant.

♡ ♡ ♡

Arthur Harrow, first and foremost, wanted a child.

A child to him is a means of keeping you beside him. The bond would tie you two together forever. He likes the sense of control it brings him, especially over you. When you first met him, you were on the pill and mentioned never wanting kids of your own. But Arthur, as he does, convinces you otherwise. Perhaps even it was an 'accident'. He is certainly the kind of man who would swap your birth control with sugar pills. But he'd smile anyways and assure you it was fate.

While pregnant, you would be doted over. Every need met, whether it be from him or his followers. You would be given luxury and love and treasured like a little goddess. This is Arthur's child, after all, and that baby would be considered a herald. He would enjoy sitting with you, head on your stomach as you two talked. He would additionally make sure you ate well and took all the things you need for a healthy child. Arthur enjoys touching your belly while he reads or falls asleep. You have never looked more stunning.

When the child arrives, Arthur is in love immediately. While most wish for a boy, he always wanted a girl. Regardless, he was happy with whichever. He would sit beside you and help you cradle the crying newborn, imagining all the great things your baby would grow to accomplish. You, as the carrier, get to name the baby. Arthur would suggest names of course but leave the choice to you.

Fatherhood suits him. The man is extremely patient and controlled. He is great with teaching your child and helping them along. You've never heard him laugh so much before. There is considerable joy in his life now, and it shows. That baby would be raised with love and expectations. However, he is stern and unrelenting. The child never gets away with anything, and punishment is taken very seriously. It will learn that for actions, there are consequences.

I think Arthur would be a natural with parenting and fatherhood. He'd enjoy the molding of such a young life. He would eventually ask you for another, and maybe one more, once the first is a little older.

○ ○ ○

Albert Shaw has never wanted children. As a child, he was violently abused and mistreated. He can not mentally grasp the responsibility of a child (even if he can raise and train a dog, it's different).

That being said, in this instance, you are a victim/obsession that he's grown fond of and wants to keep. Pregnancy at its core appeals to him. The idea of his seed stuck inside of you, the fact that you are forced to grow and bear something that is equal parts his own excites him. He enjoys the thought of you being stuck with a piece of him inside of you and for life. But that is just about where it ends for him.

When you start showing signs of pregnancy, he'd simply watch. Maybe, depending on if he really enjoys you, he'll give you water and use his softer tone to reassure you that all was well. He does find it arousing that your skin clears and breasts swell - he'd be very interested in those. When your tummy grows, he'd touch it and talk to you about it, generally wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"How does it feel? Being stuck with a piece of me inside of you."

When it came time for birth, you were most likely alone. Stuck in the basement and forced to go through the entire process alone. In this instance, if you survived, he would return home surprised to see and hear a baby.

There is a long pause, and he is gripping and loosening his hands. You can't really tell what he's thinking. You would be filthy, tired, barely awake if not for that need to protect your newborn. He would come across the room and shake his head, scolding you about the mess you made. You are afraid when he sits beside you and looks at the child. Part of you wants to believe he cares, but you see no semblance of love in those eyes of his.

He'd sit in silence for a while, wincing if the baby cried. Eventually, when you got too tired to keep awake, he'd take the child out of your arms and leave the basement.

And you would never see the baby again.