#and I don’t want to open up to a new psych and then leave and have to do open up all over again

[thisismyhell]

Professor Hotchner (Part 1)

Author's Note: im shamelessly in love with this man, sue me. This is part 1 because i was getting tired and it was getting super long. part 2 soon tho :)

Summary: you are Hotch's former psych student and hes asked you to guest lecture. of course you say yes, and of course he loves to watch you take over the room.

Shameless flirting, age gap, older prof hotch and student reader, use of y/n, two idiots.

Words: 1.8K

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Coming back to campus to visit filled a void in your body. It took so much of your life to complete your Master’s, leaving the school and never returning was never in your plan. That being said, returning to the school for the purpose of being a guest lecturer was also not in your plan. 

Professor Hotchner had reached out to you and some other former students to come visit his freshman psychology class and provide some real world experience stories. It seemed that the students would only listen to his experience so much without asking personal questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. Before his classes finals, you were coming to guest lecture the students and fill in the blanks that his stoicism created. 

You arrived on campus just after lunch and knocked on Hotch’s office door, ready to see him for the first time in years. He was one of your favourite professors, if not the favourite. He was so smart and inquisitive, always encouraging you and the other students to ask as many questions as you wished, even staying extra hours to attend one-on-one sessions to make sure everyone understood the material well enough to confidently pass. 

Hotch opens the door, and you look up at his imposing eyes and witness how they soften when he recognizes you. He conceals a grin, but you notice and return the favour. “Y/n, I was hoping you would make it” he says through a tight lipped smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to try and impress my favourite professor again”. He bows his head to hide his blush, and you’re too in your own head to notice it. “Please y/n, you can call me Aaron. We’re equals now”. “We definitely are not, but I appreciate it, Aaron”. You put your hand out to shake his, and he gives in even though the motion is ridiculous. He’s humouring you, trying to make you feel less like a past student and more like a new colleague. Even though you are technically in the same field, he still feels the desire to almost protect you, regardless of the cases he knows you have worked at this point and the violence you have seen. 

“Let me show you to the lecture hall. I know you have a tight schedule and don’t want to waste your time”. He’s so gracious with you, understanding what it’s like to have the deadlines and commitments that you do now. He’s retired from the FBI and only serves as a professor now, but he remembers his sleepless nights and need for a go-bag. “You could neve waste my time, Aaron. I’m happy to be here and I have a clear schedule to be here”. He puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you down the hall. You can smell his cologne, the same scent you remember from his office hours. The hallway becomes crowded and you huddle closer to him to not lose direction, and he welcomes your presence against his large frame.

Once you arrive in his lecture hall, he helps you set up your laptop in order to guide your presentation, explaining he will click through the slides for you as you talk. You don’t need him to do this, and there is a remote that you could use yourself, but you like having him be a part of your presentation. If he could stand up beside you for an hour you would welcome it, but you don’t want to seem incompetent either. 

The class quickly enters the hall and takes their seats, proving to you that Hotch has maintained his drill sergeant tendencies unto his students. They all greatly respect him and you can tell. Once they have all sat down and opened their laptops, he stands up in front and they are all quiet, ready to listen and obey. “Class, today we have a guest as I mentioned last week. She is an accomplished profiler in the FBI who can hold her own in the field, and I am honoured to have her speak to you all today about her real world experience. I am also honoured to once have had her as a student, who once sat right in this room only a few years ago. Please give a warm welcome to Agent y/l/n, and give her the same respect that you give me”. 

The class applauds and you blush, smitten over your introduction. “Thank you Aaron, what a wonderful way to start my first guest speaking opportunity”. You go through your slides and tell some of your favourite stories from the field, and emphasise how hard you had to work to get to where you are now. You paid close attention to the women in the room, always taking precedence over their questions first. Hotch didn’t dare chime in unless directly asked, respecting your place as the lecturer for today. 

You enjoyed speaking to the students, and every once in a while you glanced over to where Hotch was sitting in the second row, appreciating you. His large frame looked even bigger in the small student seats, seeming even more imposing if that was possible. Once you opened the floor to questions you calmed down and let yourself relax more to come across as more human. That was something Hotch had taught you before. You were wearing a black pencil skirt with nylons and sensible pumps, matching the look with a black turtleneck that hugged your figure. Since you were the youngest in your department, you wanted to come off as more mature than you thought necessary so you could establish some dominance. This was also Hotch’s idea when he found out about your FBI interview. 

You were definitely getting in your own head, because you were starting to heat up. With Hotch’s eyes on you it was almost like he was the only person in the room that could see you, and he was taking advantage of his sight point. He could see all of you from the second row, and if you asked him, he could smell you from there too. Since he opened the door for you only a couple hours ago, he couldn’t get your perfume out of his head. It was making him dizzy having you so close but so far. He had great respect for you, you had always stood out amongst your peers. You always took advantage of his office hours, and more often than not he found himself feeling claustrophobic behind his desk with you looking at him the way you always did. 

He loved watching you take control of the room, his room. You spoke so eloquently and professionally, he felt so proud. He felt proud that he taught you, but he felt more proud that he knows you, and that you know him. If he was still at the FBI he would feel almost intimidated by you and the way you could handle yourself. You never needed help, but he knew he would get on his hands and knees to find your contact lens for you if you asked. And he would love it. 

By the end of the lecture you are starting to think Hotch is checking you out, but you can’t be sure. You’ve always had a crush on the man, how could you not? He respects you and he knows how smart you are. He doesn't feel threatened by a strong woman, and he even admitted when he was wrong about something to you. Hotch would never admit this, but on more than one occasion, he would explain something in a false manner so that you would correct him on it. He loved having you raise your hand in his class and call him out on a false statement, whether it was a definition or a fact from a previous case he worked. He wanted you to feel smart in every room you were in, because you are smart. He didn’t want your confidence to falter just because he was a man at the front of the room, he was egging you on to stand up for yourself and others. 

Sitting back and watching you run the place was getting him off and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. The time was up, and Hotch dismissed his students. They politely filed out of the room, but one boy was hanging back to ask you a question at the front. He made himself look busy so the student could have a conversation, but he was still listening. “Y/n, your lecture was just amazing. I know you work for the FBI, are you in town often?”. 

“I am, I actually live in the city and commute. It’s not that difficult when you have the resources. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just wondering because I know it can be stressful for a woman to travel so often. Does your boyfriend ever help you out? I just didn’t see a ring on your finger.”

Hotch grimaced, falling victim to this boy’s poor excuse at flirting with you. 

“No I don’t have a boyfriend, but I am more than capable of handling myself, thank you.”

“That’s a shame, you’re a very smart and beautiful woman. You know, I’m actually looking to join the FBI some time too, maybe you could help me out some time? Maybe over a drink you can tell me-”

You cut the boy off before he fumbles even harder, “listen, I really don’t think this is an appropriate conversation. You should probably go to your next class before you say something stupid”. 

The boy grimaces but leaves, taking your rejection. You turn around to Hotch to gather your things, but notice his face. “Something wrong, Aaron?”

“That was just very tough to watch. Sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, he was just a kid shooting his shot, no harm done.”

You hold your bag over your shoulder and Hotch comes closer to you, “okay good, I’d hate to feel bad for him”. 

You blush and go to leave, but you realize you have forgotten your phone. Looking around for it, Hotch realizes your mistake. “Y/n, I think you may have left it in my office. I’ll walk back with you and we can grab it before I call you a cab”. He wants to call you a cab? You’re hoping to make your visit last longer, so you walk a little slower next to him on the way to his office. He notices but doesn’t point it out, enjoying walking beside you. He’s also enjoying being seen with you, a beautiful young woman who excels in her field. A field he used to be in, and he knows you would be bossing him around by now if he was still in the FBI. He’s too busy thinking about you raising your voice at him that he doesn’t realize you’ve reached his office until you point it out. “Oh, sorry y/n. I must have zoned out. Keeps happening with age”. You grin at him, “don’t worry Aaron, your age doesn’t bother me”.

[zephyrchama]

We know there's cooking duty, and trash duty, and various cleaning duties that the brothers rotate who's in charge of. They take turns shopping for groceries. When MC becomes their attendant in Nightbrighter, some of these chores are foisted onto them.

Is there a laundry duty? Does MC have to do everybody's laundry? Does Asmodeus keep buying more and more outrageous underwear to leave on top of his laundry so he can tease MC?

---

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whaddya think you’re doin’?”

Mammon walked into his room and caught you red-handed with a pair of his yellow briefs. He nearly flew across the room to snatch them out of your hand.

“Uh, the laundry?” You gestured to a basket of Mammon’s dirty clothes that had been collected from all over. “This would be easier for me if you left it in one place. Getting all of your stuff every week is like a scavenger hunt.”

Mammon threw the dirty briefs over his shoulder. They landed somewhere on the opposite side of the room for you to find again later. You looked at him in exasperation while reaching for a pair of crumpled-up jeans. His face had a rosy tint.

“Why are you doing the laundry?” he demanded.

“Because it’s my job as your attendant,” you answered.

“Wh-? Like, just this week?”

“I’ve been doing your laundry for the last three months, Mammon.”

He craned his neck forward in shock and waited a beat, as if you would say psyche. It’s not that Mammon couldn’t understand you, but this was new information he did not want to process. A hand rose to his forehead, sliding upwards as he pushed in frustration. “Well... cut it out! You look like a pervert. How would you like it if I did your laundry, huh?”

That’d be nice. “Could you, please? That would be great. I don’t have a day to do my own wash, given there’s seven of you and only seven days in a week.” Chores, RAD duties, and devilsitting took up every waking moment.

Mammon sighed and ruffled his hair. He muttered, “Seven…" In an instant, his attention snapped back to you.

"Seven? You’re doin’ everyone’s laundry?” he shouted.

You were ready to pull his jacket off yourself if he wouldn't cooperate. “Yes! And I’m short on time so just give me your dirty clothes!”

--

You cracked the door open ever so slightly. Leviathan was preoccupied with a game at his desktop, the back of his chair pointed at the door. The chair shook from the intensity with which he smacked the controller. Now was the perfect time. With the goal of being as quiet as possible, you crept into Leviathan’s room and made a beeline for his laundry hamper.

“Dooooooooooon’t touch those!” The pitch of his voice rose and fell impressively as Leviathan jumped and scrambled across the tile on all fours to physically block you from the laundry. Did he see your reflection in the monitor? His headphone cord popped out of the PC, its headpiece falling down to tug at his neck, and the gaming controller clattered to the floor. Leviathan slid in between you and his laundry basket like an athlete safely sliding onto a base.

In contrast, you just stood there wide-eyed with a tub of detergent in one hand.

Leviathan stammered a few times, realizing he might have overreacted. “So, uh. You see, Mammon gave us all an earful for letting you touch our clothes,” he explained. “He clearly didn’t listen when Lucifer told us you were doing it.”

“Oh, and you knew? Good job, Levi!"

You both smiled, Leviathan chuckled bashfully at the praise.

"Now give me your laundry.”

His face fell.

“No, wait! I knew you were doing it! But… you know, I never really thought about it. And for once, I think Mammon has a point. So, please!” Leviathan pressed his hands to the floor and bowed his head to the ground. A pose he learned from anime. “I’ll do my own laundry from now on! Just don’t touch it anymore!”

“Why? I've always been careful, I check the tags on your shirts so the colors don't bleed.” All of the brothers' clothes had insanely specific washing instructions. Compared to laundering suit jackets and leather and silk, colorful graphic t-shirts were a walk in the park.

Leviathan did not budge. "That's true. Still, I have dignity that must be protected!"

---

Beelzebub goes through almost twice the amount of clothes that his brothers do due to his regular workouts. Thankfully, he helps you carry them all to the laundry room so you're not struggling alone.

Beelzebub already had everything neatly sorted into two baskets - regular clothes and workout clothes. They were all ready to go when you showed up for the weekly collection. He let you take the lighter one.

Before the two of you left the bedroom, Belphegor called out, "are you doing laundry?" His head lolled over the side of his bed.

"Yeah, do you need anything washed right now? You can put it in with mine," Beelzebub kindly offered.

Belphegor wormed to the edge of his bed and picked up an empty pillow case. "I drooled on this and stuff. Can you take care of it?"

"Sure," you said. "Pass it over."

Getting up was far too much work. Instead, Belphegor loosely balled up the pillow case. With the world's laziest throw, he tossed it in your direction. It managed to sail through the air. It smacked the side of your head and landed on your shoulder.

"Thanks," Belphegor yawned, having already turned his back to you and Beelzebub.

[juniperskye]

I Can’t Do This.

Sneak peek: Reader is recently off of a long-term undercover operation (similar to Emily’s) that left her in a bad way. Director Cruz reaches out, assigning her to the BAU. After speaking to her therapist and expressing her concerns, they come up with a solution of how to inform her new boss of some of the horrors she endured on her mission. Hotch keeps a close eye on her, being careful not to trigger her…until one day, he accidentally does in the worst way. ITALLICS ARE FLASHBACKS! BOLD ARE THERAPY SESSIONS.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) BAU! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5605

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI,YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. age gap (reader is in their 20’s and Hotch is in his 40’s), explicit language, mention of canon typical violence, mention of therapy, reader attends regular therapy sessions, mention of a toxic previous “relationship”, mention of a previous dom/sub dynamic, murder, talk of trafficking, forced consent (reader is working the undercover op) mention of previous abuse and manipulation, some use of y/n, Hotch accidentally triggering the reader, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Y/n it has been three months since you returned from your undercover op, it’s time. The BAU needs an additional agent, and you’d make a great addition. It’s really not up for discussion.” Director Cruz ended with finality.

“I really don’t think I am ready. Director Cruz, I know it has been three months, and you guys have been so gracious with the paid leave, but I’m still working through everything I went through when I was under.” You explained.

“Your therapist and the FBI issued psych eval have both cleared you to return y/n. You’re joining the BAU. You’ll begin next Monday.” Cruz decided.

“Okay.”

With that you stood and exited his office. It’s not that you didn’t want to work for the BAU, in fact, under normal circumstances you’d have been begging for this placement. But after everything you endured while undercover, you weren’t sure you could handle being on a team, especially not one run by Aaron Hotchner.

--

“You were recommended to me by Sheri, did she tell you anything about me?” He questioned.

“She mentioned you were looking for someone who knew how to follow rules.” You answered.

You had been assigned to an undercover operation in which a very powerful man would finally be brought to justice. Emilio Alvatorre, one of FBI’s most wanted. This man did unspeakable things and lucky for you, he was in the market for a new submissive. Normally the FBI wouldn’t jump at putting an agent in this kind of situation, however, in this case Emilio was known to keep his subs knelt at his side in his office. That would mean that you would be privilege to information that could take him down.

“So, are you good at following rules?” Emilio said in a voice meant to be sexy, but it was truly repulsive.

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, “The best.”

--

“I’m worried that Agent Hotchner is going to give me a directive and that I will follow it whether I agree with it or not. I am terrified that I have completely lost myself, and that I will just blindly follow.” You explained.

“Y/n we’ve talked about this, you are strong, you are capable of making decisions and speaking up for yourself.”

“Yeah but being at the BAU with Agent Hotchner, he’s a very commanding and dominant man, what if I fall right back into…” You trailed off.

“He is commanding and dominant, but he isn’t Emilio. I am going to give you some homework, and then I’d like to see you again on Thursday so we can go over it before you join the BAU Monday.”

“You’re right. What’s the homework?” You asked.

“I want you to first come up with a list of coping strategies for when you begin to feel anxious or overwhelmed on the job. Then I want you to write a letter to read to Agent Hotchner giving him some insight as to what you have been through.”

“Absolutely not! Sylvia I can’t do that!”

“Y/n I am not asking you to give him all the details, just a little bit that might help him to know you.”

“Fine.”

--

You had a hard time figuring out what to put in the letter to Agent Hotchner, debating what was too much versus what was too little to say. How much did he need to know, how much were you comfortable sharing…it was all becoming a bit much.

Ultimately, you’d written something up along with a perfect list of coping strategies that you knew would satisfy your therapist.

After meeting with her on Thursday and going over what you came up with, and allowing her to help you tweak a few things, your body filled with dread, anxiously awaiting Monday morning when you’d have to go into the BAU.

--

Director Cruz escorted you to the floor that houses the BAU, bringing you into Agent Hotchner’s office for introductions. You felt like you had just walked out on a stage completely naked with the way all the other agents were looking at you.

“Hotchner, this is Agent y/n. I sent over her file last week. She is going to start with the BAU today.” Director Cruz announced.

“Yes, I saw your email. It is nice to finally meet you.” Agent Hotchner greeted.

“Y/n would you excuse us for just a moment, I’d like to speak to Hotch here.”

Without another word you followed the director’s order. You stepped out of the office and stood patiently waiting for their conversation to end.

--

“She’s anxious.” Spencer mumbled.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Emily replied.

“No, look at her, she’s digging her nails into her palms, a light sweat has broken out on her neck, her heartrate has increased slightly, and she hasn’t looked up at us once. She’s probably suffering from severe anxiety.” Spencer rambled.

“Don’t profile the newbie Spence.” Emily scolded, patting his shoulder.

--

“Alright, y/n go on in and Hotch will fill you in on what his expectations for you are.” Director Cruz headed off.

With a light knock, you awaited Agent Hotchner’s approval before entering his office once again. Mentally chastising yourself for your submissive actions.

“Agent y/n, please, have a seat.” Hotch gestured.

You sat in one of the chairs across from him.

“It says here in your file that you’re recently returning from a twelve-month assignment. I noticed the assignment isn’t labeled as classified, but quite a bit of it was redacted. Can you speak on that at all?” Hotch inquired.

“Agent Hotchner, if it is okay with you, I have somethings I’d like to discuss. Some of which is relevant of that case, but it is primarily regarding the effects that case had on me.”

“Go ahead.” Hotch nodded.

“The undercover op I was working put me in a position in which I was forced and manipulated to blindly following directions from someone. I had to do this for twelve months, and since then, I have had a pretty hard time finding my voice again. Certain things can be triggering for me, so I wrote up some things for you, with the help of my therapist. There are coping strategies that I may need to utilize and there are somethings there for you, to navigate situations that may come up.” You were worried that this was all going to lead to Hotch doubting your ability to do this job. “I also want to make it known that I told the Director that I wasn’t ready to return to work.”

“Thank you for sharing this, I think it’ll help me to make your transition back to work smooth. As for you being ready, I think you sharing that information shows a lot about your strength and I think you are more than ready to be here.”

--

“Kneel.” Emilio ordered with a snap of his fingers.

You slowly dropped to your knees, sitting back on your heels and resting your palms on the tops of your thighs, your gaze focused on the frayed rug that covered the hardwood floor in front of you.

“Bring him in.” Emilio spoke into the intercom that connects him to his security.

The guards drag in a man who appears to be near death, clearly beaten. Emilio rests a hand on your head, gently petting your hair before speaking in a tone you don’t recognize.

“I heard you’ve been snooping around. Talking to Jeremy and his guys.” Emilio spat.

“I haven’t sir I swear!” The man was begging for his life.

“I don’t like snakes.” Emilio raised his gun and shot the man point blank.

You couldn’t help but flinch at the sound. A strong hand was quick to grip your chin.

“Flinching is a sign of weakness. I can’t have a pet that is weak.” His grip tightened “Are you weak?”

“No sir.” You reassured.

“Good.”

--

Working with the BAU had been going well, Hotch had truly been incredible. He’d encouraged you to share your thoughts and theories while on cases. He also reminded you to use your coping strategies when the cases became particularly overwhelming.

Like today for example. The team was working on a case that was taking a toll on you, mentally and emotionally. Women were being kidnapped then brutally tortured and left for dead in the street. It was becoming increasingly difficult to detach yourself from what these women must’ve been feeling.

Hotch was quick to notice the change in your demeanor and he made it a point to assign you with Spencer at the precinct. You were tightening up the victimology while Spencer worked on the geographical profile. You had come to the conclusion that the unsub was targeting victims primarily on their looks, they had all been of similar height, had same color hair and eyes. Worse than that…they all kind of looked like you. The sound of Derek and Emily approaching made your stomach sink. Spencer had clearly picked up on your anxiety since you’d been with the BAU, but the others, not so much.

“Hey guys, what did you find out?” Emily inquired.

“Well, I’ve narrowed down the geographical profile. This area right here…” Spencer gesture to the map covering the screen “this is his comfort zone, all the abductions and dumpsites fall within this five-block radius.”

“What about you new girl?” Derek nudged you gently.

“I looked into all the victims, and they all were approximately the same height and build, same color hair and eyes. I spoke to Penelope; she confirmed that all of the women frequented the same coffee shop.” You explained.

Hotch, Rossi, and JJ all entered just in time to hear Derek confirm your thoughts…which led to a suggestion that made your heart sink.

“Y/n these girls all kind of look like you...” Derek walks over to where their pictures are pinned up to the board. “Maybe we should send you to the coffee shop undercover. It could help us find this guy.”

You heart was pounding, causing a loud whooshing sound to drown out your hearing. You closed your fists and dug your nails into your palms. You could feel the sweat breaking out along your forehead.

In and out…deep breaths. You reminded yourself of the coping strategies you’d come up with for instances like this. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

“Absolutely not!” Hotch commanded, shaking you from your thoughts while simultaneously distracting the others from your very obvious panic attack.

“Hotch man come on! She fits the victimology perfectly; it could end this case if she could catch his attention.” Derek argued.

“It’s not up for discussion. I will not send a new agent undercover, not until she is more comfortable on this team. Undercover ops like that require a significant level of trust, one that she may not have yet.” Hotch shut Derek down.

“We know he must go to this coffee shop; JJ and I could go in and watch. Keep an eye out for a man acting suspicious.” Emily suggested.

“Good, first thing tomorrow.” Hotch said before dismissing the team for the evening.

--

“Sir, is it safe to be talking about this…with her here?”

“Are you questioning me?” Emilio sneered. “My pet is well behaved. I wouldn’t have her here if I thought otherwise. Who are you to question my decisions?” His voice raised.

“I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I just wasn’t sure.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Now I’ll ask again. What is the update on the shipment?” Emilio demanded.

“There are going to be three crates in the shipping container. The boat is set to anchor Friday at midnight.”

“And everything we were promised will be there?” Emilio asked.

“Well, not the girls. This shipment is just the weapons.”

“Excuse me?” Emilio’s expression turned sinister.

You were knelt by his desk like always. This conversation had been one you were banking on; it was hopefully going to allow your team to pick him and his associates up. Only, this conversation had taken a turn that you weren’t expecting. His shipments thus far had only contained drugs and weapons, so why was he asking about girls?

“I was assured that everything would be included. How fucking hard is it to follow orders?” Emilio shouted, his fist slamming onto his desk.

You sat still, silently taking in the situation. That night you’d check in with your team and fill them in on the new information. You just needed to get the logistics of when the second shipment would arrive, and honestly, you were scared Emilio would kill this guy before you got that information.

“I know boss. They told me that the girls would be here soon. There was an issue getting paperwork for some of them. But it should all be worked out now.”

“I need a date and time. By the end of the day. Otherwise, you’re done.” Emilio hissed. He then brushed his hand over your head. “C’mon pet, let’s go to bed. And you, I’ll be expecting your call.”

Going to bed with Emilio had initially been the worst part of this assignment. Thankfully he’d had you STD tested which meant you were both clean, and he’d ensured you received birth control shots. The sex had surprised you; you had expected it to be rough and painful but, it had been soft and gentle. Emilio whispered sweet nothings to you, and he held you close, and he’d carefully bathe you afterwards.

It may be sick and twisted…but it didn’t bother you, having sex with him.

--

A light knock at your door had startled you. You made your way over to check the peephole, and there he was waiting patiently.

“Hotch, is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that. Morgan was out of line suggesting we send you in.”

“It’s okay, really. He doesn’t know any better.”

Hotch gave you a sympathetic look. You could tell he was doing everything in his power not to profile you. You appreciated his effort, and it truly was endearing. Around Hotch, you’d started to feel more comfortable around him and his consistent care of you and your mental health had been the thing that drew you in. He cared so much, and it meant the world to you.

“You seemed nervous earlier, does that have to do with the undercover assignment you worked?”

“Yes.”  You sighed.

In the last two months of being with the BAU, you and Hotch had been teetering this fine line of coworkers and more. It wasn’t necessarily leaning toward something romantic, at least that’s what you were both trying to convince yourselves of but, it had definitely become a friendship. Hotch had allowed you a safe space in which you were starting to feel like yourself again. He had never pushed you for information about your past and he continuously checked in with you to make sure you were comfortable and okay. More recently though, as things like what happened today occurred, you have felt like maybe you should tell Hotch a little more about what you endured.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I am here for you. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like you have to tell me anything! But if you should choose, I’d listen.” Hotch admitted.

“I was sent in undercover to investigate Emilio Alvatorre…” You began.

“Emilio Alvatorre? He was one of FBI’s most wanted! Lucrative arms dealer, importing drugs…I heard he was ultimately brought down for sex trafficking.” Hotch was stunned.

“Yeah, that was me. Emilio took part in a certain lifestyle; he is a dominant and he was seeking a new submissive…and I guess I fit the bill. He essentially owned me, and he referred to me as his pet. It was my job to follow his orders blindly, and I did.”

“What was it like?” Hotch questioned.

“Well…

--

“Good morning pet.” Emilio purred pressing a kiss right below your ear.

“Mmm, good morning sir. Can I make you breakfast?” You offered.

“No darling, the cook will prepare our meal. I think it is sweet you still ask.” His kisses travelled down your neck.

“Do you have meetings today?” You inquired.

“Today is all about you pet. We are going to get you some new clothes, shoes, and maybe a new necklace. I want to spoil you today! We are celebrating!” Emilio gushed.

It was the moments like this that fucked with your mind the most. Emilio could be so kind and gentle, he wanted to take care of you and in the time you’d been with him, it had been increasingly easier to let him. But then there were moments when he turned dark…the other side of him came to light and you couldn’t help but question your mind.

“Boss…” Emilio’s associate barged into the office, only to find you bent over his desk while he pounded into you from behind.

“Not now!” Emilio growled.

“But boss!” This guy really couldn’t take the hint.

Emilio wasn’t one who took well to being interrupted, in any aspect of his life. So, when this associate decided what he had to say was more important than Emilio’s time…you knew it would be bad.

Emilio’s hips never faltered, not upon the initial interruption and certainly not when he leaned to the side, grabbed his gun, and shot the man standing in the doorway. You pinched your eyes shut, knowing better than to react to the horrific sight before you. Emilio continued thrusting, his grunts becoming more erratic, and when he finally finished, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Go run a hot bath. Get in and wait for me. I need to go see about this issue and get this cleaned up.” Emilio stated as he assisted you in standing upright.

“Yes sir.”

--

“It was really hard for me to deal with the two sides of him. I became confused and my mind was so foggy as to whether or not he was truly awful. And I know that so much of that is the manipulation of being his submissive, but I was with him for a year, it was easy to forget what things had been like before Emilio.” You trailed off.

“I can’t even imagine all the things you must’ve seen and gone through in that time. I can understand why you weren’t sure about joining the BAU initially…but I am really glad you did.” Hotch expressed, placing his hand atop your own.

“I’m glad I did too.”

--

The next morning Emily and JJ were sent into the coffee shop that all the victims frequented, and they couldn’t track the unsub. Either he was far too subtle, or he hadn’t shown up. The team was currently in the precinct trying to figure out the next steps, when Derek suggested it again.

“I still think y/n should go undercover, it’s our best bet in finding this guy. What do you say new girl?”

You were taken aback; your mind was screaming at you to decline. You weren’t ready for this, going undercover, blindly following team orders. It’s for the greater good though, isn’t it?

“I could do that.”

“Morgan, I already said it’s not happening. She isn’t ready.” Hotch commanded.

“Hotch, we have all had to go undercover. There is no reason that she can’t go into the coffee shop and order a freaking latte. We will all be there to keep her safe, just like any other case!” Morgan was practically shouting.

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

“Y/n you don’t have to do this. Not if you aren’t comfortable.” Hotch was obviously trying to profile you based on his expression.

“I’m okay. I’ll do it.”

--

You were ordering a coffee, meanwhile Spencer was sitting in the back of the café reading a book and Rossi was in line, about three patrons behind you. Hotch insisted on sitting at a table just outside the entrance to keep a close eye on everyone coming and going. JJ, Derek, and Emily were all in the surveillance van parked across the street, waiting for the signal.

After you received your coffee, you found a seat at an empty table. It wasn’t long before a man approached you. He was tall and clearly strong; he had a very sinister aura that gave you the chills.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

“Oh, sure.” You agreed.

The man sat, but only after he moved the chair closer to you. He was talking to you, but you were having a hard time listening. You were silently begging the guys to come to help and get him away from you.

“You know, you’re really pretty. Why don’t we get out of here? We could go get lunch.” The man suggested.

“Oh, I’m not sure I should.”

“C’mon, be a good girl and get up.” His tone became more aggressive.

You stood up without a second thought, much to the unsub’s delight. He grabbed your arm in a bruising grip and began leading you out of the café.

“They’re on the move. Why is she going with him? This wasn’t the plan.” Derek exclaimed.

Hotch’s demeanor instantly changed. After you opened up to him about your previous assignment, he understood now why you had seemingly always followed orders willingly, only your willingness had been conditioned. Instilled in you through the manipulation of a very dangerous man.

“I got it.” Hotch

Hotch stood up and turned abruptly, purposefully plowing into you and the unsub. He made a move that shifted you away from the unsub and placed himself between you.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Hotch feigned innocence.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Watch where you’re going asshole. Let’s get out of here.” The unsub reached for your arm once more.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“You want to bet?”  he said, pulling a gun from his waistband and pointing it directly at your head.

You didn’t flinch, in fact you didn’t move a muscle. All the while everyone else sprung into action. Hotch tried to talk him down while the rest of the team surrounded him on all sides. You had stood there completely disassociated while this man threatened your life and ultimately met his untimely end via Emily’s weapon.

--

“Y/n would you please come to my office?” Hotch requested.

You silently followed Hotch to his office. You were wringing your hands, hoping that he wouldn’t reprimand you for your behavior today. You couldn’t handle disappointing people.

“You didn’t even flinch. You had a gun pointed at you and you didn’t even blink. You also willingly left the café with him, which was not a part of the plan we had discussed.” Hotch stated, his tone calm.

“I’m sorry Hotch. He told me to get up and I just…I wasn’t sure what to do. I know we needed to catch the guy.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Hotch admitted. “I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt. I also don’t want you to agree to do things simply because someone tells you to. Like agreeing to go undercover.”

“I don’t know how to do that. Disagree I mean. I’m not sure I have that in me anymore.” You did everything in your power to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Y/n I’m not disappointed. I do think that it is very important you continue to work with your therapist.”

“I will.”

--

“…and I just stood there.”

“Y/n you we conditioned for over a year to sit still when any sort of firearm was shot, you watched people die right in front of you. You were covered in their blood and forced to remain kneeling until instructed otherwise. I can’t say I am entirely surprised that you didn’t react to having a weapon pointed at you. What does surprise me though was that you agreed to going undercover.” Sylvia finished.

“I knew it was our best option to finding this unsub. I fit the victimology, and I was able to fish him out. It was a no-brainer.” You shrugged.

“Now that sound like someone making a rational decision.” Sylvia smirked.

“Yeah well, after the case Hotch called me out and I felt like a child being scolded. I could barely hold back tears.”

“Why do you think that is?” She pressed.

“I don’t know. I guess, I’m afraid of not being good enough and worse, disappointing him.”

“The only person you should be worried about disappointing is yourself. Y/n you have made huge strides in the last five months and as long as you stay true to yourself, you will continue to do so.”

--

The months went on, as did the cases and your therapy sessions. Oddly enough, you had started to feel more like yourself. Things with the BAU have started to become easy, you were opening up little by little to the others and you were getting better at making your own decisions.

Hotch had also noticed the change. It had warmed his heart to see you really coming into your own, to really get to know the real you. Which had only strengthened his feelings toward you, causing him to work extra hard to shove them down. Rossi knew simply from the look Hotch gave you, but that’s a story for another time.

The team had been working back-to-back cases all over the country for the last few weeks. It had been exhausting and the team were getting to a point where everyone was snippy. Lack of sleep had led to a horrible lack of patience, and the local officers weren’t making matters any better.

“What if we were wrong, I think the unsub is a woman. I mean look at the attention to detail in the clean up and at how the bodies were presented.” You offered.

“Y/n could be right; a woman would take the time to be precise and it would explain the…”

Before Spencer could finish his thought, Officer Riley decided to provide his own theories.

“There is no way it is a woman. They don’t have the courage to take care of people like this. That’s why the statistic proves that the unsub is a man.”

“With all due respect, women are just as capable of murder as men, and when they do it they are often far more meticulous which is why that fits better here.” You explained.

“Well, with all due respect ma’am, I’ve been doing this job longer than you could walk.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t bother hiding your surprise.

“All I’m saying sweetheart, is that perhaps you’d be better off getting us some coffee.” Officer Riley sneered.

“Last time I checked, I’m the one working for the FBI and not some Podunk little police station in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. So how about you back off and let us finish our…”

“Y/N TAKE A SEAT.” Hotch demanded.

Despite your shock at Hotch’s tone toward you, you took a seat without hesitation.

“Officer Riley, please let my agents do their work. We have much more important things to be doing than arguing about the duties of a woman.” Hotch chided.

“Well, you clearly agree with me given the fact that you gave her an order. If you’d been on her side you’d have probably told me off.” Riley turned to you, “and you clearly do know how to listen to a man in charge. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

With that, Riley made his leave with a low chuckle, and you sat there considering what had just happened. Hotch had commanded you to sit down knowing full well you’d comply, that way he could deal with Riley without you continuing to tell him off. He used what he knew about you against you, despite all the conversations you’ve had with him. Despite him knowing full well your fear of blindly following orders.

“I can’t believe you.” You stood up and walked out, heading straight for the precinct exit.

“Y/n wait!” Hotch followed you.

As you landed on the sidewalk just upon the exit, Hotch’s had made its way around your upper left arm in a desperate attempt to slow you down and hear him out. Only you were in no mood to listen to him or anyone else right now. All you felt was the sense of betrayal blooming in your chest.

As he swung you back around to face him, you did something that shocked even you. You right arm followed around, landing a harsh slap to Hotch’s cheek. Your breathing was ragged, a look of surprise painting your features…a look of guilt flooding Hotch’s.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” You paused.

“No, Y/n I am so sorry I shouldn’t have-” Hotch pleaded.

“I need to go. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” With that you left, calling a taxi, and heading back to the hotel.

--

“YOU STUPID BITCH! HOW COULD YOU?” Emilio Screamed, lunging toward you.

“Emilio I didn’t, I just…I”

Emilio wrapped his hand around your throat, harshly choking you as SWAT swarmed the shipyard. They quickly made their way to you, removing Emilio from his position over you. As they pulled him away you couldn’t help but watch him.

“Kneel Pet!” Emilio commanded.

You couldn't help but follow his order. Immediately dropping to your knees, resting your hands atop your thighs and letting your gaze fall to the ground.

“I will always own you! You will always be my pet, perfectly broken in!” Emilio hollered as they put him in the back of a vehicle.

“Y/n you’re okay, lets get you up and checked out.” Your unit commander suggested.

Only you didn’t move. You couldn’t get up, not without his permission.

That night, the paramedics had to sedate you to get you into an ambulance. And after that you were placed in a psychiatric facility for 30 days to help undo the brainwashing you’d endured.

--

“Sylvia, I slapped him. My boss, I slapped him right in the face!”

“Y/n you reacted to a situation and based on what you just explained to me, it seems like he knew he was in the wrong. You shouldn’t be blaming yourself and honestly, you should talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Maybe tell him how you feel.” Sylvia suggested.

--

You spent the afternoon practicing what to say to Hotch, Spencer had been texting you updates of that case as it progressed. He’d let you know that they caught the unsub and were headed back to the hotel. So, as you opened your door to make your way to his room, you came face-to-face with the man himself.

“Hotch.”  You gasped.

“Y/n can we talk?”

You moved aside to allow him access to your room. You couldn’t help but feel nervous about the conversation that was to come.

“Hotch, I am so sorry for slapping you! I was just-”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Y/n I am so sorry, I heard you going off on Riley and I knew that if you kept talking he’d report you and I’d be forced to suspend you, only I hadn’t considered the effect that me demanding you take a seat would have on you. I need you to know it was not my intention to take advantage of you like that and even worse, I shouldn’t have put my hand on you the way I did. You had every right to slap me.” Hotch explained.

“You were trying to protect me?”

“Riley had made threats of reporting our staff for going against orders of the precinct. I knew that he’d report you for your behavior, despite him clearly being in the wrong. I didn’t want to suspend you.”

“I didn’t realize. But Hotch telling me to take a seat, in the tone you did, it felt like I was right back there. Following orders without thinking. With you, I can’t explain it, I would do anything you asked me to and that terrifies me. My feelings for you only add to that need to do anything you say, to do anything to please you. I can’t help it.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Aaron! Is that all you took from what I just said?”

“Please say that again.” He whispered.

“Aaron.”

He let his eyes close and took a deep breath. You could tell he was holding back and though part of you was begging you to walk away, the other was telling you to jump in. You thought about what Sylvia would say, and you couldn’t help but release a breathy laugh, knowing full well that she would tell you that only you can make the right decision, and it is okay to trust yourself.

“Aaron, I am terrified…and it is going to take me some time to fully trust myself again, but I really like you and if you’re up for it, I’d like to give this a shot. Unless you don’t feel the same way, then please ignore what I just said an-”

Aaron pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. One that told you everything you needed to know.

“I’m scared too, but I want to try this Y/n. I know that you’re still working to find yourself, I am willing to wait if that is what you need, but I am also willing to be by your side every step of the way.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

[sea-lanterns]

HALLOWEEN

synopsis: (slasher! AU) an escaped psych ward patient wants to see you again.

featuring: shenhe

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, mentions of murder, knives, stalking, breaking and entering, house invasion, size k.ink, size difference, praise, manhandling, oral (reader recieving), wall se.x, grinding, hump.ing, ni.pple sucking, ni.pple biting, hickies, marking, possessiveness, pwp, not proofread.

art credits: high rise invasion

“Hehe, I win!”

“Great job, Yaoyao!”

You smiled and pat Yaoyao on the head while her older sister Qiqi clapped quietly in praise. Although it was Halloween night, you spent your time babysitting your neighbor’s kids, as he had to go out unexpectedly to run some last minute errands. Though most adults your age would find this kind of thing “boring” and “a waste of a Halloween night,” you actually enjoyed babysitting Baizhu’s kids, as you practically raised them as an older sister from the time they were basically infants. 

At the moment, you were currently playing board games with the two girls, after a long night of watching kids’ Halloween movies and helping them with their homework. It was almost nearing the girls’ bedtime at this point, so you made a note to yawn and pretend like you were tired.

“Oh man…I’m all tired you guys…” you said with a smile, looking up at the clock. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Awe…” Yaoyao pouted, but began cleaning up the games regardless. 

“Does this mean you’re leaving soon?” Qiqi inquired in a quieter voice, looking hesitant to let you go. “Is Papa home yet? I don’t wanna go to bed until Papa is home.” 

“Papa will be home soon. It’s almost nine.” You say reassuringly, giving Qiqi a small head pat before going over to the kitchen to pour Qiqi’s glass of coconut milk. “Come here and get your coco milk.” You say softly, peeking your head through the door. “Yaoyao, why don’t you go put on your PJs while I serve your sister her milk.”

“Okay!” Yaoyao exclaimed, running up the stairs while Qiqi quietly walked into the kitchen. She had a habit of drinking a cold glass of coconut milk every night before bed, so you opened up the fridge to grab the carton, before seeing Qiqi plop herself at the table. 

“…Big Sister.” Qiqi said in a monotone voice, catching your attention as you poured the milk into a glass. 

“Hm?” You glanced over, slightly distracted as she called you by your nickname. 

“…Is it true that the boogeyman exists?” She asks in a softer voice, her head resting on the table with a small look of worry in her eyes. “One of the kids at school said that the boogeyman was a tall man, whose face was as white as a sheet.” 

She turned her head and pointed to the abandoned house across the street, the one where the infamous murder incident took place over twenty something years ago. “They say that he lived in that house before he got taken away. That he murdered his father as a young boy…is it true?”

You froze when she said all this, not expecting Qiqi of all people to ask you about the murder case that happened about twenty something years ago. You were practically a kid when the news story made headlines, but as much as the story haunted you till this day, you didn’t want to scare the girl with a story that could potentially give her nightmares. 

“No, Qiqi honey.” You say in a soothing tone, handing her the glass of coconut milk and rubbing her head. “That’s just a Halloween story. The boogeyman doesn’t exist.”

‘It was a boogeywoman.’ You couldn’t help but think, as you shuddered just looking back at the old abandoned house. Years ago, a young girl was the perpetrator of a murder case back when you were just a child. It was the talk of the town, the story of the infamous young girl; Shenhe, who brutally murdered her father in that house and was sent to a psychiatric institution with a case of homicidal tendencies. 

You remember that day like it was yesterday, as Shenhe was actually one of your friends back when you were in elementary school. It was hard to believe such a quiet and mature girl could be the person behind slaughtering a full grown man, and while it was terrifying, you couldn’t help but feel upset that your friend had to be taken away. 

“…Big sister, you spilled some coco milk on your shirt.” Qiqi said in a monotone voice, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Wha—” you looked down and saw that you had accidentally spilled some coconut milk all over your clothes. 

“Oh…shoot!” You couldn’t help but exclaim, nearly cursing before remembering that you were in the prescience of a child. “Ah…sorry. I must’ve been lost in thought for too long.”

You set the carton back into the fridge and tried cleaning out the milk stain with a wet napkin and some soap. It was no use, the stain was simply too big and since you were wearing a white shirt, it looked translucent when in a brightly illuminated area for too long.

“…Big sister, I can see your—”

“Yes Qiqi, I know.” 

You sighed and walked over to your backpack to grab a spare change of clothes. “Luckily for me however, I am always prepared!” You held up an old T-shirt you had brought and showed it off to Qiqi. “Cool, right? Now, since you’ve finished your milk, why don’t you head upstairs and join your sister in going to bed? I have to change before the smell of milk stays on me.” 

Qiqi nods and gets out of her chair to make her way upstairs, leaving you to change in the kitchen as you sigh and begin stripping out of your clothes, already tired from today’s activities. As you removed your shirt however, you failed to notice a masked woman staring at you from behind the window, watching you as you removed the stained T-shirt and slid the new one on. 

Her heavy breathing fogged up the window while she watched you intently. Sharp, iridescent eyes trailing over the curves of your figure, before quickly moving away when you glanced back to look at the window. 

“…Hm.” You stared at the window for a few more seconds before turning away, cleaning up some of the plates off the table as the masked woman watched you from outside. It had been…so long since she had last seen you, so many years of isolation and she finally had the chance to see you again after being taken away to be locked like a prisoner for her own misdeeds. 

“…Mine.” The masked woman mumbled to herself, watching you with need before quickly scrambling away when the headlights of a car pulled into the driveway.

As you finished cleaning up some of the dishes, you heard the sound of keys jingling into the lock before Baizhu’s familiar footsteps entered the house. “I’m home…!” He exclaims jovially, the sounds of tiny footsteps running down the stairs, as Yaoyao and Qiqi —now in their PJs— ran to greet their Papa before heading to bed.

“Baizhu!” You exclaim with a smile.

“Papa!” Both Qiqi and Yaoyao exclaim, running up to him and hugging him on each leg. 

“Oof…easy there…my blood pressure is gonna spike…” he groans, giving the two girls a pat on the head before glancing over at you. 

“Hey…how were they?” 

“As easy as every other time.” You say with a chuckle, before beginning to put on your coat. 

“Ah, I’m glad.” Baizhu says with a smile, nudging his two daughters to face you. “Well, what do you say girls?”

“Thank you Big Sister…!” Qiqi and Yaoyao speak at the same time. 

“Anytime.” You chuckle, saying your final goodbyes to the two girls, as they head upstairs to finally head to bed. This left you with Baizhu as you got ready to head home, making sure everything was packed in your bag and nothing was left behind. 

“Stay safe out there, it can get pretty dangerous late at night,” Baizhu hums as he counts the money in his wallet to give to you. “I heard rumors of an escapee from the psychiatric facility a few miles down from here. The police are tracking the escaped patient, but it’s best to get home quickly for your own safety.” 

Your heart sunk at the impending news, the same psychiatric facility where your childhood friend was locked up for murdering her father. It couldn’t be a coincidence, surely. 

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to head home fast.” You say with a nod, taking the money before stuffing it in your pocket. “Have a nice night, Mr. Baizhu, and have a wonderful Halloween.”

“You too.” Baizhu nods, allowing you to exit his home as you begin walking down the block to your own house. You didn’t live too far from the Baizhu family residence, yet walking down the block all alone on a late Halloween night was not really the ideal situation for you to be in. Especially considering the news of the escaped patient that Baizhu notified you about. 

“Geez, how eerie…” you mumbled to yourself, glancing up at the abandoned house Shenhe used to live in, and being reminded of your childhood together before she was taken away. 

Shenhe was such a sweet and quiet girl —at least to you— and you had such fond memories of playing with her everyday after school until it was so late into the evening you could see stars. You had no idea she was capable of such brutal, homicidal tendencies, yet perhaps you’ve misjudged her, and maybe she really was just a sociopath after all…

You shook your head at the thought. No, it can’t be. Shenhe was always so sweet to you. Perhaps one day she just snapped and was—

You stopped walking when you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. A shiver running down your spine as you slowly turned around and saw a tall, masked woman standing just several feet away.

“O-Oh!” You flinched a little and backed up a bit when you saw her. Her tall, looming figure made you feel small, as she towered over you like you were nothing but a mouse ready for her to step on. “Ah…sorry, you startled me a bit…” you say with a nervous chuckle, holding onto your backpack straps with worry. “I uh…I like your costume…”

The masked woman tilted her head slightly, staring at you with familiar, iridescent eyes that had you squinting for a closer look. ‘Why do they look so familiar…?’

“…Uhm.” When the woman did not respond, you looked around awkwardly before getting an idea. 

“Oh! Are you…trick or treating?” You ask with a smile, reaching into your pocket to pull out a small, wrapped mint. “Sorry I don’t have anything else, but I hope this is enough to suffice!”

You hesitantly walk closer to hold out the candy to the woman, whose body stiffens up when you offer her the small, wrapped treat. You may have forgotten after all these years, but her favorite candy was actually small mints, and the fact you still carried around mints to this day had her heart beating sporadically out of her chest.

‘She’s still as nice as ever…’ the masked woman thought as she slowly looked down and stared at the wrapped mint with amusement. Carefully, she takes it out of your hand, her much larger fingers brushing over your palm and causing you to shiver. 

“Ah…your hand is quite cold…” you couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling your arm back to keep it at your side. “Don’t stay out too long, it’s dangerous late at night. Stay safe out there, okay?” You smile sweetly at the masked woman and the sight has her blushing underneath her rubber mask. She had forgotten how sweet and beautiful you were after years of not seeing you, and she wanted nothing more than to keep you by her side for as long as she possibly could. 

“…Thank you.” She says in a muffled voice, your pulse jumping at how unexpectedly deep and husky it was. 

“You’re welcome!” You respond with a smile, giving her a polite bow before making your way back to your house. Though your initial encounter may have spooked you a little bit, all you could think about was just how cute the masked woman was. 

‘Ahhhh I should’ve asked for her number or something!’ You groaned inwardly, calling yourself pathetic in several different languages before pulling out the keys to your house. ‘Oh well, it’s a small town. Maybe I’ll see her again…’

Or tonight, considering you failed to notice the woman still stalking you from the shadows as you headed into your house rather blindly. Shutting the door behind you and heading inside to kick off your shoes, hang up your coat, and go to bed since you were aching for a good night’s rest before work tomorrow. 

“Ugh…” you trudged up the stairs to head to your room, plopping on the bed and taking a breather before mustering up the strength to do grown-up things like shower and eat a decent meal like a responsible adult. It took quite a bit of mental encouragement to get up from the heavenly abyss of your bed, but soon enough, you rolled off the covers and began digging through your dressers to find a nice clean pair of PJs to change into. 

After finding a decent set, you got up and began making your way to the bathroom, humming a small tune to yourself and locking yourself in the bathroom. As you did this however, the door to your house slowly creaked open, the tall, masked woman from earlier making her way inside as her only goal for tonight was to see you again. 

And hopefully make you hers.

She took a brief walk around your house, tilting her head at the various knick knacks and items scattered around your house before making her way upstairs. She heard the sounds of a shower being turned on and decided to surprise you by hiding in your bedroom closet. She couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you saw her again, the poor woman practically trembling with excitement as she stuffed her larger body into such a small space. 

Now, all she had to do was wait. 

And wait.

…And wait. 

And wait as she did, but the woman was beginning to feel incredibly cramped as she stood in your closet door for what seemed like eternity (even though it had only been ten minutes) 

Feeling a bit bored, the woman slowly exited the room and was about to walk down the hall, when she came face to face with just you in a towel. The moment you locked eyes on each other, you screamed and nearly dropped your towel out of fear, almost flashing yourself at the other woman as she scrambled to keep you calm. 

Before you could start running, the woman quickly ran up to you and suddenly picked you up in a hug that had your legs dangling in the air due to her strength. 

“H-Holy shit—!”

“Quiet…Quiet…”

The woman pressed a comforting hand on your head and began petting you in soft, yet sturdy strokes. Her other arm had muffled your screaming as she tried her best to silence your fears, pleading for you to stay quiet so you didn’t alert the neighbors with your cries. 

“Mmmpf! Hnnn!” You squirmed in her grasp but it was no use. The woman holding onto you had some sort of freakish strength that kept you from making even the slightest of movements, causing you to flip out even more as you realized this might be the end. 

‘I’m gonna die. Oh my fucking god I’m gonna die!’ You were so close to tears and continued trying to fight for your life. Squirming and thrashing around like a fish out of water, before suddenly being pinned to the wall to stop your flailing. 

“Mmpf!”

“Quiet…!” 

The masked woman spoke in a rough, yet somewhat familiar tone. Her larger body pinning you to the wall as she kept a firm hand over your mouth to successfully gag you from screaming any unwanted sounds. 

‘I’m so dead…I’m so dead…!’ You screamed with your eyes closed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst, only to have the killer…suddenly hug you?

At the feeling of the masked woman’s arms embracing you like an old friend, your body tensed up as she leaned forward to bury her face into your shoulder, as if she didn’t just scare the shit out of you moments prior. 

“Ah…h-hah…wha…” 

“Mine.”

You heard the woman grumble the word like it was a fact, pushing you further against the wall. Your heart was still beating sporadically out of your chest from all the adrenaline, but something in the tone of her voice made you shiver with a strange nostalgia you had no idea you had.

“Mine.” The woman repeated once more, the screams in your throat dying down to a pathetic whimper. “Don’t go.”

“Aha…hah…” Was this hysteria? Were you finally beginning to lose it? 

“Don’t scream.” The woman says in a quiet groan, stroking the back of your head. “I missed you.”

“Wh-What…?” You were beginning to wonder if you were losing it, body trembling like a feather as she continued delivering soft and gentle strokes to the back of your head. Was this woman insane?! I mean, she was stalking you and breaking into your house, but perhaps this was the patient that escaped the psychiatric facility…?

“…U-Uhm…can you let me down…?” You ask in a shaky voice, too afraid to scream any more as the knife she had fastened to her jumpsuit paralyzed you with fear. 

“…Okay.”

Sensing that you won’t run away, the tall woman plopped you down like an obedient dog dropping a toy. You were shocked to say the least at how easily she complied, but didn’t want to question it as you stood there, trapped against the wall in nothing but a towel while you stared your house invader down. “…Wh-Why’re you here?” You ask with a bit of reluctance, pulling your towel up so it wouldn’t accidentally drop. 

“…I missed you.” The woman says again, keeping her head down as she stares at you through the eye holes of her mask.

“Well, you can’t just follow me home and break in…” You mumble politely, “It’s illegal…”

“It is?” The woman tilted her head and looked slightly upset. “I’m sorry…” 

Your eyes widened when she suddenly hugged you again, body tensing up as her muscular frame practically engulfed yours. “H-Hey now…” you froze under her grip and felt how easy it was for her to snap you like a twig. “Do you…uhm, have somewhere else to go?” 

The woman shakes her head no. 

“Ah…okay…” you wanted to call the police more than anything, but something in the back of your mind was screaming for you not to. Instead, all that was going on in your mind, was who it was behind the mask. 

“…Can I…see who you are at least?” You ask in a quiet tone, wondering why this random stalker took such a liking to you after all you did was give them a candy. “I want to know…who it is I’m talking to.”

The masked woman pauses at your statement, slowly leaning back and staring at you with those familiar, iridescent eyes. At first, you think she’s mad at you with how quiet she was being all of a sudden, but then you see her hand reach up to pull at the latex of her mask. 

Your breath hitches when the mask slides off to reveal a matured, much older, and familiar face of your childhood friend; Shenhe, who got taken away from you all those years ago. She never changed a bit, and with the way she was looking down at you, you realized you had reunited with her after so many years of disappearance.

“Shenhe…” you breathed out after a moment of silence, eyes trailing over the contours of her face before settling on her eyes. “It’s you?”

She nods at your response, almost excited in a way as she was happy to know you remembered her. “Yes, it is me.” 

She could barely contain herself as she moved forward to hug you once more, spooking you as she lifted you off the ground with ease. Shenhe was always strong as a kid, however; you had no idea she would be this strong as an adult, as she could practically split a man’s skull open like a pumpkin. 

“Oh!” You let out a yelp when she scooped you up in her arms, all fears of a home invader leaving your head, as all you could think about was the fact that your childhood friend was back and wanted to visit you.

“I missed you.” Shenhe repeated against your ear, voice gravelly and rich with the way she purred. “That’s why I escaped.”

“You— You escaped the psychiatric facility?” You mumble in disbelief. “Just to see me again?”

Shenhe nodded like an innocent child, burying her face into your shoulder and inhaling your soft, shampoo-like scent. “I wanted to see what was mine again…”

Your face flushed at those words and you couldn’t help but be reminded of your old, puppy love crush on the woman back when you two were just children. You knew this woman was capable of homicidal tendencies and yet, despite seeing a killer; all you could feel was your friend. 

And you wanted this friend to be yours too.

“…Okay.” You whisper in a shaky tone, hesitantly hugging Shenhe back as she nuzzles her face deeper against your neck, her hot breath tickling the skin of your ear and making it difficult to control the strange arousing feeling beginning to stir in the depth of your core. “I can keep you here for a bit, Shenhe. Just until you can manage on your own.” 

You had no idea why you were doing this, but allowing a killer to stay in your home was not the best idea. Nevertheless, Shenhe was ecstatic and she suddenly leaned in to kiss your cheek out of appreciation for what you were doing. The moment her lips planted on your face, you froze and almost dropped your towel completely out of shock.

“Oh.” Shenhe stopped when your towel moved lower and accidentally revealed your breasts, the tall woman’s face flushing pink at the sight, before glancing away in embarrassment. 

‘Oh…’ your hands quickly pulled the towel back up, yet when you looked up to see Shenhe’s reaction to the accidental flash, you saw her looking away, but also not-so-subtly trying to sneak an extra peak. 

‘Wow, I did not expect Shenhe to be such a closet pervert…’ you thought to yourself, smiling a bit cheekily and laughing to yourself. “Shenhe, it’s okay, we’re both girls. I mean, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“But I haven’t seen it before…” Shenhe mumbles ever so quietly, iridescent eyes slowly taking up your figure. “Your body…is so pretty.”

Aaaaand that’s how she managed to seduce you. All it took was for your pretty childhood best friend to say your body was pretty and bam, your heart began to flutter with newfound feelings for the killer. 

“I could…show you more if you’d like,” you chuckle a bit teasingly, wondering how far Shenhe would push the limits.

“You would?” She looked intrigued and leaned a little forward. “Can I see?” 

Your eyes widened at her boldness, before deciding to see where this goes and chuckling. 

“Alright…” 

As it turns out, Shenhe was a lot bolder than you took her for, as the moment you dropped the towel to reveal your entire body, Shenhe had you pinned against the wall and her lips sucking on your chest. You weren’t sure how you got here, as every second with Shenhe was a blur, but you knew for one thing that you were enjoying it.

“Hah…eager aren’t we?” You teased a bit light-heartedly, groaning a little when Shenhe bit on a nipple. “Nngh…gentle now, Shenhe. You have to be gentle with a woman…”

“‘M sorry…” she mumbles against your chest, trying to kiss your nipple better.

“Hah…it’s okay.” You whisper reassuringly, petting her long, white hair like she was a rabbit. “Is this your first time? I assume it’s not often you sleep with someone in a psych ward…”

She nods hesitantly and hides her face in your chest. 

“Pfft…” you missed this. You missed the feeling of your friend laying on your chest and whispering with you like you were the only two people in the world. “It’s okay…do you want me to guide you?” 

Shenhe nods again. You swear, if it weren’t for the news articles and details of her homicidal tendencies, you would’ve thought Shenhe was the sweetest girl on earth incapable of murder. 

“You’re so sweet…” you murmur into Shenhe’s ear, watching as the tips of her ears turn pink. “Do you wanna go to my bedroom so it’s easier?”

Shenhe shakes her head no, pushing you further against the wall. “I want to touch you here.” She mumbles under her breath. “I want to take you here. I don’t want to move.” 

A jolt of heat pushes through your body and you feel yourself dripping just at how direct she was. For someone so innocent and charming, you really did not expect Shenhe of all people to be so good at dirty talk…

“Aha…are you sure? The floor is kinda hard so it’ll be uncomfortable. I’d say a bed would be better as it— OH!” Shenhe suddenly lifted you up with ease and shoved you against the wall, your legs dangling over her forearms as she pressed her body closer to you. 

Where on earth did she learn this position?!

“Sh-Shenhe, this position—” you flinched as your legs were spread and the bare skin of your cunt brushed against Shenhe’s rough jumpsuit, the position making you blush as you were left vulnerable to whatever Shenhe had in mind for you tonight. 

“…I like this position.” Shenhe said after some time, practically folding you to her liking and leaning in for a kiss. Your eyes widened as you tasted the familiar freshness of peppermint, and realized Shenhe had eaten the mint you had given to her prior to meeting her. ‘So sweet…’ Shenhe couldn’t help but think, trying to shove her tongue in your mouth and taste some more of what your body had to offer. 

“Mmpf…hnn…” your moans were muffled by her tongue and you couldn’t help but close your eyes as she began adjusting your legs to wrap around her waist. Once she had you wrapped firmly around her, Shenhe began to move her hands all over your body, searching, squeezing, trying to find that one spot that would have you whimpering out her name. 

“I want…I want more…” Shenhe pants out like a dog, nudging your legs further as she begins grinding her hips against yours. “Want more…want— n-need more…”

At the sudden grinding sensations you threw your head back and nearly hit your head against the wall. The rough cloth of her jumpsuit moving against you so well it had you writhing in her arms, Shenhe’s brutal ruts making it seem like she was trying to envision herself having a strap, as she was panting rather loudly with the sight of you all naked against her.  

“Sh-Shenhe…I think– hah… it’d be better if you took that jumpsuit off…”

Despite your pathetic pleas, your words fell on deaf ears as poor Shenhe was too caught up in her pleasure to even hear you. You just looked so perfect and pliable for her to maneuver, her feelings of missing you all these years starting to cloud her thoughts, as she leaned in to claim your neck as hers and hers alone. 

“Mine…mine…mine…” you hear her grunt into your ear, teeth grabbing at your skin and pinching it so hard it left a mark. “Shenhe! Gentle, baby. Gentle…” you whimper in a smaller voice, gasping with the amount of hickies she was starting to suck onto you, as it seemed a switch had flipped in your sweet, innocent Shenhe. 

“S-Slow down, please…” you whine into her ear, pulling something feral out of Shenhe as she decided this position wasn’t enough. She needed more. She craved more. 

And you were going to give it to her. 

In one quick motion, Shenhe crouched down for a moment before lifting your legs over her shoulders and having you practically straddle her face. You nearly screamed when she did this, her body keeping you upright as your legs dangled in the air, even higher than you were before. 

“Shenhe this is dangerous what’re you–”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Shenhe began lapping at your clit, her tongue darting out with hunger as she tasted your glistening folds for the very first time. 

“Stay…still…” Shenhe practically growls as she keeps you balanced with just her strength alone. You had no idea how she was capable of such impressive feats, yet you weren’t complaining when her tongue was so wet and (somehow) so experienced.

Or many Shenhe was just really, really horny. Who knows. But either way, you were laying on cloud nine as Shenhe nudged her cold little nose onto the button of your clit. Strong hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs and leaving small nail indents in your skin that would surely leave a mark when you woke up in the morning. 

“Shenhe…Shenhe oh god…” your legs were trembling from the constant pleasure as Shenhe continued thrusting her tongue with insatiable hunger, her face practically glistening with your juices as a sex-drunk expression glazed over her face. 

“More…I want more…” she groans in a huskier tone, practically burying her face into your cunt and drinking up all the cum that was leaking out of you, too pussy drunk to even think. 

“Shenhe please…” you whined as you gripped her hair with your fingers. “Put me down I can’t…I can’t take it anymore…”

“No, you can.” She groans in response to your whining, pushing you further into the wall as she lapped up your sex like it was her last meal. “Just stay still, stay still.”

At her deafening command, you whimpered and let her take the reins as she coursed her tongue through each crevice and corner of your folds. You’ve never heard or seen Shenhe act so possessive before, but the feeling of being all hers, and only hers, had you nearing your orgasm sooner than you expected. 

“Go on…I want to taste it.” Shenhe says rather directly, giving your right thigh a squeeze. “I want to taste you.”

“Shenhe…” you groaned, feeling your stomach tighten. “You— nngh…”

You arched your back off the wall and gripped Shenhe’s shoulders tightly, cum starting to spill down your thighs and onto Shenhe’s awaiting tongue. Eagerly, she lapped up any stray droplets she could catch, savoring the flavor of your release like it was a fine wine she could ever hope to taste again. 

“Goodness…” you panted, catching your breath as Shenhe continued to clean up any traces of cum left on your hips. “Shenhe you…are you sure you’re a virgin?”

She nodded obediently, kissing the inside of your thigh before marking it with her teeth. 

“Oh wow…” you couldn’t help but tiredly laugh, petting Shenhe like the good girl she was and kissing the top of her head. “You’re really good, you know that?” 

Shenhe beamed at the praise and continued kissing the inside of your thighs before setting you down in her arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “I…I can please you more,” she murmurs in a rather pleading way, looking almost like a puppy getting ready to serve their master. “Please let me please you more.”

“Gosh, round two?” You chuckled, clinging to her arms as she brought you to your room. “Ah, why not. I’m sure you have enough stamina to go all night, hm?”

Shenhe nodded eagerly and set you down on your bed, climbing over on top of you before kissing the base of your neck and whispering under your ear. “I can go all night if you want.”

“Really?” You chuckle back in a whisper, bringing her down by the neck and kissing the side of her cheek. “Well, if that’s the case…”

“Happy Halloween, Shenhe.”

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

The itch

An: so I’ve never written for TUA, I think, I haven’t written anything in like a long time cause my brain is made of worms most days, but the new season and mostly five in his new attitude? Personality? His almost soft tired of it all way, gives me the feelings. As a 28 year old women it’s odd that a 68 year old trapped in a 18 year old body works for me like it does but hey, I’ve liked weirder (cough I was in the Hamilton fandom cough) so enjoy this sort of bonding with Lila over the new mundane life and the exhausting reality of having to live it, because I love Lila and hate what they did to her and fives characters with the whole 7 year time line romance. Like why make her a mum of 3 and married to Fives brother just to ruin it like that. But anyway enjoy this weird fic.

Readers power: molecular manipulation, think piper from charmed, overhaul from my hero, uhhh it’s hard to explain but basically it means you can make things explode, freeze people and things by fucking with the molecular structure of said thing.

——————————————————————-

You wanted to scream, to smash things, to burn yours and fives apartment down, it had been six years of calm, six years of learning to enjoy ‘normal’. Six years of working at dead end jobs because you didn’t pass the god damn psych evaluation for the CIA, somehow you are far more ‘unhinged’ than your husband.

You and five spent 30 years together, a decade in an apocalyptic wasteland when you ended up teleported there by mistake, and then 20 years at the commission becoming trained and ruthless assassins. Now, now Five worked doing CIA investigations and you got stuck working at a grocery store gas station. It was calm, it was normal, it was absolute hell on earth and made your skin itch.

So sitting in the parking lot of the play place for your nieces 6th birthday, you didn’t know why you couldn’t make yourself leave your car, five was already here, he had texted you as much, everyone else minus Viktor who was in Canada, and Allison who hasn’t shown her face irl to any of her siblings in the 6 years, you just needed to get out of the car and walk in with the gift you signed from both you and five for Gracie. It was a set of toy weapons, knives like her dads old ones, and a few other random ‘play pretend’ things.

Closing your eyes you leaned your head back against the head rest, taking a deep breath. Almost hitting the gas when the passenger side door opened and slammed closed. Turning eyes wide you saw Lila, the exhausted mothers face blank staring forward

“I just needed a minute, just needed” you nodded

“Take all the minutes you need. I assume it’s like pulling teeth in there with Diego?” Lila nodded sighing loudly

“Fives the same way, just on other stuff, like deciding if he wants to go out to dinner or stay in and order pizza, or if he needs new underwear because the ones he has have so many holes in surprised they still count as underwear, or just simple things like the dishes, like how hard is it to wash a cup, it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, how hard is it to just tell me when you need a quiet night cause work was stressful, and you are exhausted from stupid people all day, i work retail, he acts like I don’t understand being tired of idiots…I just…” you paused looking back out the windshield

“It’s like your skin is on fire and nothing stops the itch of being a once highly skilled assassin who could fuck with peoples molecules and freeze them in time or make them explode?” You nodded looking at her

“I find myself flicking my hands out and remembering I can’t just blow up or freeze people anymore, it’s like an itch and anytime I explain it to five he just…”

“Doesn’t listen? Or doesn’t understand that you are used to how your life was and now that it’s different, it’s not bad but it’s eye burning mundane clock ticking by slower then ever reality?”

Nodding you sighed

“Diego, he wants to listen, he just, from what five always told me he had a hard time understanding others because his brain is just, frazzled and he feels inadequate, how they grew up I guess shaped them in every timeline. Five is just used to being alone he was alone for 30 years before we met, then I popped up and it’s just. I don’t think he gets that sometimes I just need him to..”

“Let you Help with the itching”

You nodded smiling at her

“He just, it’s been a lot, and we haven’t quite got the ‘normal life’ down just yet.” Lila nodded

“It’s not easy in normal marriage land either, 3 kids and a chunky husband who, doesn’t make it easier is….”

“Not helping the itching. Well how about me and you, when the itch gets too bad, we help each other? Maybe find a way to do something, go to a rage room? Do a fighting class something to feel the….rush? Of what we did before. Have Klaus or someone babysit the kids, be me and you and just….”

“Fighting each other like the before days?” You laughed nodding

“Yeah…I miss getting to kick your ass and having you kick mine…”

Lila laughed looking around

“We could start a fight club, you, me, Ben when he gets out of prison. Just….maybe we’ll get used to normal eventually….” You frowned nodding

“You know if you ever need anything, help with the kids, a friend to vent to when Diego is being Diego…I’m not to far from your guys place. I can always swing by, let the munchkin tornados beat up on auntie Y/N.” You smiled at her for all the mess you and her had been in against each other, she had become one of your closest friends and family members through it all.

Soon enough you finally made your way into the building, the screams of children everywhere, the smell of sugar and something faintly child everywhere. You spotted five by the ball pit, speaking with Ben, walking over you hugged five from behind sighing as you rested your forehead against his back

“Hello, love.” You squeezed him in response before looking up and over to Ben

“Ahh Benjamin, free from jail, good to see you didn’t die, love that you still look like you want to murder us all” Ben didn’t laugh, just glared at you before sighing

“Not in the snark mood got it.” You felt five squeeze your arm a bit pulling away from you, making you groan

Turning to fully look at you, he looked you over smiling softly

“How was work?” You looked at him blinking slowly before sighing and planting your forehead on his chest, groaning

“Ahh I see” his hand rubbed your back softly, his other lifting the beer to his lips.

“People are stupid. How hard is it to put a gas nozzle in a car….”

“Apparently impossible if what you tell me says anything” you looked at him nodding before turning to look around

“10 bucks says Diego forgets to put up the piñata like Lila asked him” five laughed slightly

“Nah 20 says Lila has a mental breakdown before cake is served” you looked over to where Lila stood with Gracie helping the young girl fix her party hat,

“Nah I think she has a breakdown after presents when she sees what we got Gracie” five laughed looking down at you, brushing the stray hair from your face, smiling at him you sighed softly again,

it seemed even if you wanted to rip your hair out from the new ‘normal’ reality you all had to live in, even if your skin itched from the need to return back to what life was before somehow, it was nice that you still had small moments, where normal wasn’t so bad, normal birthday parties for your nieces and nephews, seemingly normal holidays, and normal, non murder happy work. As much as you loathed admitting it, sometimes it was nice. Like now, now was nice.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 10

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you're finally back at the house and you need to find yourself a new normal again. you take this time to get better acquainted with the others and make sense of what you know

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

When you arrive back at the house, you start to feel sick. 

You’re not sure if it’s nerves or stress, but in reality it’s probably the events of the last few days finally starting to catch up to you. You immediately excuse yourself to your room and crash onto your bed, fighting back the urge to vomit. 

Someone knocks on your door. You tell them to go away and they do; that’s how you know it isn’t Chan. The night comes and goes and you sleep your way through it. You sleep into the morning. Well into the morning, in fact, that you miss both breakfast and lunch. 

You wake up finally, drenched in sweat and completely sore all over your body. It’s the sound of yelling outside of your door that rouses you from your sleep, your door slamming open causing you to cower under your covers. 

“Get up,” Chan says. His voice does not allow room for argument. 

“Chan, you should leave her–” 

“Changbin, I don’t fucking need you to tell me what to do right now. Y/N, get up. You’re eating dinner with us. You’re not skipping another meal,” he says. Tears prick at your eyes but you’re successful at holding them back. You are not going to cry. Not in front of Chan. 

“I don’t feel good,” you say. 

“That’s bullshit,” he says, nearly cutting you off as if he anticipated your answer. “I know I have put you through a lot these past few days, but like Hell am I going to let you wither away in my house.” You let out a squeal as you feel the covers get yanked off of your body, leaving you feeling bare. The cold air pricks at your sweat covered skin and immediately you get goosebumps from the sensation. When you look up you see him standing over the mattress with his arms crossed, his gaze boring into your features, and you roll out of bed with a sigh. You feel nauseous as you follow him to the dining room but you don’t argue. However, the blood in your skin does start to boil. 

Who the fuck is he to tell you what you can and can’t do? He’s already locked you up in this house, killed someone in front of you, and controlled just about every movement since you’ve ended up here. Is he going to dictate your whole meal plan too? God, you’re seething. 

But you also know he’s right. That’s what infuriates you. Your physical ailments are just a manifestation of your trauma and your psyche, and maybe you have been letting them consume you for the past 24-hours, but that is your absolute right to do so. It chills you that he pays close attention to your each and every movement. 

You think back to your conversation with Woojin in the warehouse. “Chan doesn’t like in the way that normal people like. He gets infatuated. He becomes obsessed and controlling and people end up dead.” You suppress the urge to shudder. You’re not sure you want to be loved or even liked by Chan. He was a passionate, attentive lover. You can only imagine being with Chan being like that, but tenfold. 

On the other hand, you didn’t quite want to be disliked by Chan. 

Besides the lack of food in your stomach from the past day, something else makes you nauseous when you sit at the table. Felix. You shoot him a smile and despise the way that your heart squeezes when he grins back at you. At this point, you can’t deny that you feel something towards the man. You shouldn’t. You absolutely fucking shouldn’t. Despite his kind treatment, he is still in the mafia, just like everyone else here. You’ve just allowed yourself to lean into your delusion that you could be something more, that maybe there’s more behind his kind actions that meets the eye. 

You pick at your food at first. You realize it’s the first time that everyone has been here at dinner since before Woojin left. That feels like such a long time ago. Now, Lee Know is finally back, and you notice that the dynamic feels just a little bit more complete. Despite the last few days being absolutely wild, dinner conversation is just about as normal as it would be. You find yourself smiling subconsciously when jokes are cracked. And before you know it, you've eaten your whole plate. You really were hungrier than you realized. 

As you clean your plate and slide it into the trash, you run right into Felix. Literally. His warm hands find their way to your waist to steady you and you don't meet his eye. Your face warms up at the action and you turn away from him, suddenly nervous. 

“Hey,” he says, voice laced with surprise. “I haven’t seen you in a bit. You doing okay?” 

“I’m… better now, I guess. Thanks. The past few days were just…” 

“A lot?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, daring a gaze to his softening eyes, a warm brown hue. “A lot.” 

“If you’re feeling up to it, we could train some more?” he asks. His eyes are searching your face as if to confirm that you’re in a well-enough state to do so. You hope he doesn’t notice the blush that spreads over your features just from talking to him. You think back to the motel, and how his lips had gotten dangerously close to brushing against yours. You could feel his warm breath on yours, and if you had moved even just a centimeter closer you would have kissed, and there 

would have been no coming back from that. Can you trust yourself  to train with him? To not allow yourself to develop further feelings, or to act and cross that unreturnable line?

“No thanks,” you tell him as politely as you can muster. “I’m… still not feeling too well, physically. Still kind of nauseous, you know? Raincheck?” 

“Yeah, of course!” he says. It’s at this moment when you realize his hands are still on your waist from when he steadied you from your near-fall. If your face wasn’t red before, it certainly is now. Great. As if he’s realized this too, his hands fall from their place on your body and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I hope you feel better! Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” 

Felix is too polite and heartfelt for his own good, you think. It’s the quality of his that catches you the most off guard, the one that makes you forget so easily that he’s supposed to be dangerous. 

As you walk back to your room, his touch a hot remnant on your waist, you try to remind yourself of all the times that Felix has proven himself to be more dangerous than he lets on. The night you escaped, for example, he threatened the men that had cornered you with a gun. Felix punching Woojin in the nose after he touched you, another example. Then there’s the night he brought you to the hotel. He had shown up with blood covering his white stained suit, though you had never asked about it. So yes, he has proven himself to be a dangerous, strong man. Why hasn’t that deterred your heart from yearning after him, though?

You sigh once you’ve returned to your room. You realize that you will need to get a new book from Hyunjin. You decide to put that off for now, however, and opt to leave the room. You know you will need to shower the sweat off of your clammy skin from your excessive sleep anyway, so you might as well go to the gym while you’re at it. Without Felix, this time. You almost feel bad that you lied and decided to go to the gym without him, but it’s not for lack of a good reason. You pick out a pair of clothes from your wardrobe that are loosely-fitting, easy for movement, and throw your hair up into a ponytail. 

On your way to the gym, however, you realize there’s something that doesn’t feel right. A nagging feeling in your stomach. It’s at this time that you find yourself seeking out Chan, walking to his room for the first time since you moved in. There’s much you need to talk about, and it’s probably best to do so alone. 

The door at the very end of the hall. It’s the only one besides Chan’s office that is characterized with a big metal deadbolt, almost comical in nature. Before you can plant a seed of doubt in yourself, you’re rapping on the door three times, hard. You don’t realize that it’s already late to begin with, so you hadn’t considered the option that he might be asleep until you’re met with silence. Hesitantly you turn around putting pressure on the balls of your feet to walk away before you hear a click, the door creaking open. Your heart beats fast for a second, and you’re met with the sight of Chan before you can consider running away. 

He looks at you, confused. He obviously was not expecting you to be on the other side of the door. You wonder if he was expecting Hyunjin instead. You notice that he’s freshly showered, his dark hair falling in messy curls around his head and this kind of throws you off guard. In front of you, Chan has only ever looked neat and put-together, hair straightened and meticulous in his appearance. Even when he found you in the abandoned warehouse, he looked the embodiment of perfection, still in his suit from the gala. To see him in something so casual, sweats and a loose t-shirt after dinner… You almost forget for a second that the man in front of you is Bang Chan, one of the most dangerous men in the country, leader of the mafia. Almost. 

You clear your throat. “We need to talk,” you say. You feel triumphant for once, that you’re the one taking him by surprise, that you’re the one with the upperhand, but that’s all forgotten when he opens his door wider and invites you into his room. 

Well. You weren’t exactly expecting that. But you clear your throat and follow him inside. 

The first thing you notice about Chan’s room is how large it is. It makes sense, really, that the leader of the mafia would have the largest room in his own house. You’re sure there’s a reason why it was deadbolted shut, that there’s things in here that aren’t meant for just anyone to see. 

His bed is king-sized, placed in the middle of the room thoughtfully with a black duvet. The whole room matches, really, dark mahogany hardwood floors and black furniture. Even the walls, though sleek and elegant in feel, give a more gloomy yet modern feel. It’s very minimalist, you notice, no picture frames or paintings hung on the walls, though that feels very on brand for the man in front of you. 

Chan motions for you to sit on his bed. You do, trying to hide your hesitation, crossing your legs as you watch the man cross the room. He stands in front of you, arms crossed and looking down at you where you sit. Mindlessly, you smooth your hands over the duvet, neatly made and cold to the touch and probably more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned. 

“Yes?” He asks. He has a blank expression on his face and you curse yourself momentarily for being unable to identify what he’s thinking, but then you remember why you’re here. 

“Right,” you say. “I wanted to talk.” You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. 

He makes a noncommittal gesture with his hand, as if to say ‘so talk, then. What are you waiting for?’ 

“The gala,” you gulp. “That was… um, a lot, obviously. It’s just…” you try to think about where to even start and how to phrase what you had to say without offending him. As much as you want to curse him out, then and there, offending the man that is currently guaranteeing your safety probably isn’t the most wise decision. “Before we went inside, I told you about how nervous I was to see Jungwon. And you said… you promised that nothing was going to happen to me. I just can’t help but wonder, Chan. Was it a lie? Did you hand me over to them as a tactic? I know I don’t mean much to you guys, and at the end of the day you really have no reason to protect me. I just… I don’t want to think that you lied, but–”

“That’s enough.” When you meet his gaze you see how utterly pissed off he is. Shit. The words had spilled out of your mouth faster than you intended, but to be fair you had the right to know. Had he intentionally put your life in danger for the sake of getting his revenge on Jungwon? It really hadn’t come to your mind until now, but once the thought infiltrated your brain you couldn’t get it to leave. “I don’t fucking lie, Y/N,” he practically spits at you. “I thought you would know by now that I value honesty and loyalty above all else. What happened at the gala, as much as I hate to admit it, was out of my control. We should have prepared for it, but when we saw Woojin was there things got out of hand fast. The safety of one of my team members was in danger, so my priority was ensuring Minho’s safety. I hate feeling powerless. I fucking hate it, that they had the upper hand on us, but I thought that I made it perfectly clear after you got taken that they were going to pay for what they did to you.” 

You nod your head, solemnly. “I’m sorry, I just–”

He shushes you sharply. You can tell he’s not finished speaking and he’s still full of irritation so you let him continue. “I don’t want to hear you say that we have no reason to protect you. That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sure, at first, the only reason you were allowed to stay with us was so we had the upper hand on Yang Jungwon. But I think you and I both realize that you’re something more to us now. Something more to me,” he says. “Jungwon is dead now. I protected you. Give me a chance to protect you again, Y/N. Let me kill Lee Heeseung and show you that you’re safe, and that you belong here. Nobody will ever hurt you again,” he ensures. 

His words send a shiver down your spine. His words are so blunt and to the point, and if you weren’t listening carefully you would have almost missed the confession laced between his words. It scares you, this overprotective and controlling aspect of the man in front of you, the one who watches your every move. Chan, who makes sure you’re eating and taking care of yourself, Chan who loves too deeply, Chan who will make sure that nobody will ever lay a hand on you again. 

You don’t know what to say. It’s overwhelming, and unease settles in your gut. “He’s dead,” is what you settle on, surprising even yourself. 

“He is,” Chan agrees. “I’m not going to apologize for it.” 

“I didn’t ask for you to,” you reply. “It’s just… does it get any easier?” 

“Seeing the dead bodies?” he clarifies. You shake your head. 

“Losing the people that you love,” you say just above a whisper. You know he hears you. He grimaces. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I haven’t… I haven’t loved in a very long time. And I don’t intend to lose anybody anytime soon.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. His words sit heavy in the air, swirling around before falling heavily upon your shoulders. You look at him with a grimace to match. 

“I’ve been having nightmares,” you admit. 

“You’ll be okay.” He reaches his hand out to guide you up, off of the bed. You take it, standing, trying not to think about how he invalidated your statement. You’re not sure what you expected from him but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Your brain flashes to Felix, a day or two prior that comforted you in the motel bed as sobs racked through your body. Felix, who let you lay your head on his chest as he soothed you to sleep and actually made you feel like everything would be okay. You shake the thought from your head. Chan is not Felix. 

With a small smile you acknowledge the man and thank him. He surprises you when he brings you in for a hug, your head resting on his shoulder. He smells vaguely of rain, you think, though you think the man is more befitting of a storm, angry and all-consuming. You push yourself weakly out of his grasp, muttering a small ‘goodnight’ as you leave the room. 

You can hear the deadbolt click behind you and you let out a shuddering breath. You can’t help the way your skin pricks up at Chan’s every touch, though the man also leaves you feeling uneasy. 

It’s time for you to go to the gym. 

With an exasperated sigh, that’s where you end up. It’s late at night now, so you don’t expect anybody to be here when you arrive but someone is. You hear them grunting and breathing heavy before you see them, and you almost turn around and head back to your room before you change your mind. 

You need to relieve your stress right now. 

You never thought you would be the person to say that, let alone use working out as an outlet for your stress, but here you are. The last few weeks of your life would bring most people to the brink of madness, after all, so if going to the gym and finally becoming strong was your new coping mechanism, fuck it. 

You swing open the door and try not to make eye contact. Please don’t be Felix, you think. I don’t think I can emotionally deal with that situation right now. 

It seems luck is in your favor, for once, as Changbin is the one that turns around when you enter. You give him a small smile, as you are feeling pretty relieved to see him. 

You don’t spare him a second glance, however, as you turn on the treadmill and start running. You wish you had a phone in moments like these, a way that you could listen to music so that you could just turn your brain off. Felix would always play music off his phone when you went to the gym together. Fuck! If your brain could stop thinking about Felix for one moment, his flowery-yet-musky smell and his beautiful, fair hair and fae-like features, things would be so much easier for you. 

“Dude,” you hear. “You good?” 

You almost stumble on the treadmill, slamming the stop button to turn around and glare at the man behind you. 

“What?” you say, more venomous than deserved. 

“You okay?” he repeats himself. A thick layer of sweat coats his skin, and you notice the ridiculous amount of weight he has set on the barbell. Makes sense. As the bodyguard of the group, he is ridiculously in shape. You must be stupid or blind to not admire the muscles he has likely put a lot of time into. “You’re like, slamming your feet into the treadmill and you’ve been sprinting for a good 15 minutes.” He’s right. You hadn’t even noticed how effortlessly you had run almost two miles. 

“I’m fine,” you sigh. Neither of you seem convinced. 

“You seem pissed,” he points out. 

“I am pissed,” you finally agree. So much for being elusive and shoving away your feelings. It doesn’t take much for you to cave. “It’s been a long couple of days.” 

“I can imagine,” he sympathizes. “What can I do to help?” His words take you by surprise, as he seems genuine in offering his help. You ponder his question as you try and catch your breath. 

“Spar with me?” You ask, finally. You’re not too sure you want to go to Felix about this anymore. 

“I can do that,” he replies with a smile. 

After wrapping your hands up and getting ready, you take a defensive stance. Changbin looks like he’s been taken by surprise. 

“What?” you question, confused by his reaction. 

“Nothing,” he answers quickly. “It’s just… your form is good! I thought I would have to teach you some of the basics.” 

You preen a little at the compliment. Your form is actually good? That means your hard work is paying off! “I’ve been practicing with Felix,” you admit. 

A look of realization flashes over him. “Ohhhhh,” is all he says in response. “Are you ready?” You grunt in approval. 

Changbin does not go easy on you, to your surprise. He immediately goes on the offense, attacking with hit after hit. He’s not using his full strength, thankfully as you probably can’t take it just yet, but the man is fast. It’s also interesting to see how different his fighting style is from Felix’s, though you notice some similarities. 

Like how he plants his feet firmly after each right hook. Like how he leaves his left side open and unprotected after he bends his leg to connect his knee to your abdomen. He isn’t expecting your kick or the force behind it and it knocks him backwards. He regains his balance quickly and doesn’t completely fall, much to your chagrin, though the look of shock that crosses his features tells you all you need to know. You’re starting to get good. 

“You’re observant,” he points out. “That’s really good. That will make up for your lack of strength. Fighting is equal parts brain and brawn, you know. You’re good at using your brain to your advantage.” You remember that Changbin is one of the best fighters in the house other than Felix so you don’t take his praise for granted. 

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re strong, you know.” 

“So I’ve been told,” he laughs. “It’s a part of the job. I haven’t always been like this, though.” You try to think about a younger Changbin, weak and scrawny and you almost laugh at the thought. There’s no way. 

“Any reason why you decided to bulk up? Besides the job, obviously. It’s just, your physique isn’t something that someone would get for the sake of a job,” you smile. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs. “I had people to protect. I was weak and people took advantage of that, so I became strong. I wanted to become feared, let people know not to mess with me or the people I love, and what better way to do that than to look the muscular, intimidating part?” You ponder his words, not missing it when he said he had people to protect. You wonder where they are now. You wonder how he got here, even, but you don’t ask. You think there’s a lot more to Changbin that meets the eye. “Are you done already?” He asks after a beat. 

“No, I don’t think so,” you say, changing the subject. “Felix was starting to work with me on self-defense tactics to get out of a restrictive hold. Can you help me?” He quirks his brow in surprise. “Shouldn’t Felix help you, then?” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not here with Felix right now, I’m here with you.” 

“Fair enough,” he mutters. You give him a small grin. Somehow, your stress has melted off of you in waves and you’ve almost forgotten what has gotten you so worked up in the first place. Changbin does a good job of making sure your focus is entirely on him, no distractions evident when he pulls you into a chokehold from behind. It’s not tight or malicious, but effective in its purpose as a demonstration. “This is one of the most common restrictive holds,” he explains. “Tell me, when I pull you in from behind and my hands are wrapped around your neck, what is your first instinct?” 

“To try to pry your hands away from my neck,” you respond. 

“Good,” he praises. “That’s what you want to avoid. Think about my body, behind you right now. What do you have open? What do I have open that you can attack?”

You mull his words over for a second, becoming hyper-aware of his body behind you. If both of his arms are around your neck, that means his torso is free. You could easily swing an elbow back and try to make contact with his ribs. Thinking about a previous lesson with Felix, you consider the more vulnerable areas of the body. The face, the neck, and the groin. 

“My legs are free,” you answer. “I could swing up a leg from behind and hit you in the groin.”

“That’s right,” he says. “Anything else?” 

“Your face? If I swing my head back hard enough, I should be able to smack you right in the nose. That’s enough to throw anyone off guard.” 

“Are you sure you even need me to show you how it’s done?” he teases. “Let’s practice now.” 

You’re not sure how long you and Changbin spend in the gym, but you feel thoroughly spent by the time you’re through. Your muscles ache, you’re dripping with sweat, and you’re out of breath so you decide to call it a night. As you leave, you have a lingering question you decide to share with Changbin. 

“What do you know about knives?” you ask. 

“Knives?” he questions, his brows furrowing and causing a crease to form on his forehead. 

“Yeah, knives,” you respond. “Daggers, blades, stabbing–” 

“I know what you’re talking about, smartass,” he interrupts. “Just… why?” 

“I’ve been thinking about learning how to use a weapon,” you explain. 

“Yeah, I don’t think knives or blades are a good idea, then,” he tells you. 

“What? Why not?” you all but shout. “I thought I was making some serious progress!” 

“I’m not denying that,” he argues. “Your skill definitely exceeds what I would consider a beginner, and that’s amazing given how little time you’ve had. It’s just that knives make for a horrible beginner weapon. For one, you need to get close and personal with your target. That’s not ideal; if you hesitate, they can easily overpower you and stab you instead. Second, stabbings are messy. You can’t half-ass shoving a knife into someone–you have to do it with as much force as you can and into a vital spot. If you’re using a knife to protect yourself, you need to do it with the intent to kill. Best case-scenario, you’ll need to stab them multiple times in order to really do some damage. Not to doubt your capabilities, but do you really think you can do that?”

You blanche. You suppose he does have a point there. 

“You’re better off learning how to use a gun. Sure, if you’re really in a pinch a knife will do the trick, but you’re better off shooting and giving yourself the opportunity to run. That stamina you’ve been building up doesn’t have to be for show, you know.” 

“So you’ll teach me how to use a gun?” you question, trying not to seem too hopeful. 

“Me? God no,” he laughs a little too loudly. “I prefer to use these as my weapons,” he says, flexing his biceps and kissing them to further prove his point. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest at his actions. “If you want to talk to someone who knows guns and weapons, you’re probably better off talking to Jisung about them. He knows a little bit about everything. Plus, he definitely has the best aim. He’s your man,” he tells you, closing the door to the gym behind him. He wishes you a goodnight and leaves you in the hallway. You decide it’s too late to talk to Jisung about it now, and instead decide to grab a cup of water from the kitchen. 

As you reach the cabinet to grab a glass, you see a shadowy figure that nearly has you dropping the glass and jumping out of your skin. 

“Fuck!” you whisper-shout, clutching your chest. As your eyes adjust to the light switch that has just been flipped on, you’re met face-to-face with Seungmin. 

“Hey,” he greets nonchalantly. 

“You scared me,” you accuse. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, ‘whatever, not my fault.’ You’re reminded of the fact that you haven’t exactly had ample opportunity to talk to the man. He’s just sort of been around. 

You turn on the faucet and fill up your cup, trying to even out your breathing. 

“He’s going to be upset, you know,” he says. He sips on his own cup of water, staring at the floor and for a second you’re sure you misheard. Did he actually just speak to you?

“Who?” you question. 

“Felix,” he answers without missing a beat, like it’s obvious. 

“What? Why would Felix be mad?” The stress and anxiety has already come back, bubbling inside your chest. 

“You went to the gym without him,” he says. “With someone else, actually.” Confusion spreads across your features. So… not only does he know that you were just at the gym with Changbin, but he’s also aware of the fact that you’ve been practicing with Felix? How does he know so much!? You scoff and turn around, water in hand as you pay him no mind.  

“Felix can be quite jealous,” he adds as you leave the room. You roll your eyes. 

The world seems to be plotting your demise, you think. Of course you run into Felix on your way back to your room, spilling your water on him in the process. 

“Shit,” you cry, face flushing up in the process. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” he says. “No worries.” You don’t look at him and push past politely, trying to open your bedroom door when he calls after you. 

“You went to the gym,” he says. It’s not a question, merely a statement that he has observed. 

“I did,” you confirm. You think about Seungmin’s words and consider leaving it at that, but you decide to try to confirm his statement. “Changbin was just helping me spar.”

You hide a smirk when you notice Felix freeze. “You went… with Changbin?” he asks, distaste laced in his voice. 

“Yes,” you say, deciding to push him further. “Is there a problem with that?” 

“Not at all,” he says, feigning a smile. “I’ll take it you’re feeling better, then?” 

Right. You had told him that you were still feeling ill, so it probably comes across as rude to turn around and immediately go with someone else. 

“I tried to rest,” you tell him. “Sorry. I was feeling antsy and didn’t want to bother you. Changbin just happened to be there.” You don’t want to tell him that you really didn’t want to spar because the thought of close proximity to Felix made your heart flutter against your better judgment. 

“I see,” he nods his head in affirmation. “Next time, feel free to come and get me. You know where my room is, right?” You realize you don’t know where his room is, and he must recognize your hesitation. “Look–I’m three doors down. Do you see that white door on the right side of the hall? That’s me, so next time make sure you come and get me, okay?” You confirm that you will and you close your door, slumping up against it as it shuts. 

He did get jealous. Maybe Seungmin is more observant than you had realized. 

You fall asleep quite fast after your shower. That ugly feeling you worked so hard to work off earlier remains stagnant in your gut but you do a good job of ignoring it. You sleep through the night, body sore but full of food and content with the progress you’ve been making. You don’t have any nightmares, though your sleep is interrupted in the morning by a rapping on the door. 

It’s daytime by now, evident by the light shining through your windows but you still groan nonetheless, swinging your legs over the bed and letting your body carry you to the door. Swinging it open, you’re surprised to see Jisung standing on the other end of the door. Wearing a blue and brown striped sweater with large, thick-rimmed glasses, he looks very domestic which catches you off guard. 

“Morning,” he says with a smile. 

“Morning…?” you answer back, stretching into a yawn and rubbing sleep from your eyes. 

“I came to get you for breakfast,” he says. “Chan sent me.”

“Of course, Chan sent you,” you say with a sigh. “Give me one moment.” You close the door behind you, getting ready by changing into more presentable clothes and washing your face. You brush your hair back and suppress a yawn, thinking that coffee might do you some good. Opening the door again, you see that Jisung has waited for you. 

Walking to the kitchen together, you decide to talk to the man. “I have been meaning to ask you something,” you tell him. 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes shooting open and mouth widening into a small ‘o’ shape. He looks reminiscent of a chipmunk and it’s quite endearing–you find yourself wanting to run your fingers through the curly locks on his head that further drives the image. 

“Yes, Changbin was telling me that you might be able to show me how to use a gun?” you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“Absolutely,” he says. You try not to look too surprised–that’s it? He’s not going to ask why or what for? “Want to stop by my room after breakfast?” 

“It might be closer to lunch, but that would be great!” you tell him. You actually have a busy morning planned out: a meeting with Hyunjin to pick out a new book, and training with Felix. You feel hopeful now, though, that on top of all this strength and stamina you’ve been building up, you won’t be so defenseless after all. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Your plans get foiled pretty quickly, as Felix tells you he can’t help you train today. He’s getting sent out with Hyunjin and Seungmin for a mission, one that he can’t fully disclose to him. You don’t give him any signal that you’re slightly relieved, unsure how to deal with all the tension that’s been building up. 

But that also means that you won’t get a chance to visit Hyunjin for your book. So, Jisung it is. After breakfast he’s kind enough to lead you to his room, seeing as you weren’t exactly sure where it was anyway. 

You’re not super surprised to see that his room is messy, as you sort of get that vibe from him that it would be. Piles of clothes are strewn about, some water bottles and dishes piled on his bedside table. He opens up a large wooden armoire with no clothes in it, instead filled with a large metal safe. He takes a moment to make sure you aren’t looking before inputting a code, the metal door whirring and swinging open. 

Guns. Lots of them, though you probably couldn’t identify which kinds there are, there are many of varying lengths and sizes. Some look more expensive while others are covered in grime and rust. 

You sit and watch as Jisung explains the very basics of even using a gun, including how to load it, how to hold it, and what not to do with it. He tells you to always act like a gun is loaded, even if you know it isn’t; you should also never aim it at someone unless you’re doing so with the intent to shoot at them. He talks for a bit about basic shooting techniques, as well as how to handle the recoil of a gun after shooting it with a good-enough stance. You honestly feel like your head is about to explode from this overload of information but you’re grateful for it nonetheless; you definitely feel like you know more than enough about how to shoot after your conversation with him. 

“You’re smart,” you tell him. “You know so much about guns. That’s awesome.” 

He blinks at you owlishly. “I guess so! I wouldn’t call myself smart. I’m useful. Minho’s always been the smart one,” he laughs. “When you have nothing good going for ya, you kind of have to find a way to the top. Make yourself useful somehow. I’m not book-smart, so this? This is what I’m good at. It’s all I’m good at.”  The statement settles uneasily in your stomach. This is all he thinks he’s good for? Nobody has ever told him otherwise? That can’t be right. That’s probably how he ended up here and your heart squeezes, but before you can pry further or refute his claims, he’s speaking again. “So, did I do a good job? You think you sort of understand what you’re working with now?” 

“I’m more of a hands-on learner,” you explain to him. “Is there any way I can practice shooting?” 

“Oh yeah, for sure!” Jisung exclaims. The two of you walk outside and you see the makeshift shooting range he has set up. He sets up a stack of cans on a table and guides you to stand about twenty feet back. 

He presses the gun into your hands, cold and foreign to you even though you just sat through his entire demonstration. You have half the mind to think he’s far too trusting of you, but you know realistically he could disarm you faster than you have the mind to aim and pull the trigger at him. 

He walks through the basics with you again, showing you exactly how to stand and posture yourself. He makes you unload and reload the gun a few times as well, that way you’re comfortable and familiar with the mechanics of it. 

You miss the first few times. Maybe the first twenty times you shoot. But Jisung is surprisingly a really good teacher–constantly correcting you or giving you helpful feedback. The first time you hit a metal can, you practically shriek with joy. 

You hang out with Jisung for a few hours. By the end of it, your ears are ringing despite the earplugs he encouraged you to wear, and your arms are worse for wear after holding the weapon. 

You take a nap at about 4pm but wake up in time for dinner. You’re hungry due to the exertion of the day and you decide to indulge yourself at dinner, eating more than your share. If Chan notices he doesn’t say anything. 

That night you hear when Seungmin and Hyunjin return from their mission. You listen for the low timbre of Felix’s voice but you don’t hear it. You want to see him, you decide, only for your peace of mind. You come up with the excuse of wanting to train despite it being a bit late and your body still sore from your earlier activities, but your body carries you down the hall to the white door only three doors down. Your knuckles wrap softly against the wood and you shift nervously from side to side waiting for his answer. 

When Felix opens the door you find yourself blinking and ogling. His hair is sweaty against his skin, pulled up into a messy half-up half-down ponytail. He dons a white tank top, showing off his beautifully well-built arms. 

“Y/N?” he questions. He leans against the doorframe, tilting his head to the side to look at you. “What’s up?”

“I… uh, I was wondering if you wanted to train? Me? Train with me?” you say, stumbling over your words. He cracks a small grin. 

“I’m not feeling the best at the moment and I was hoping I could rest for a bit, if that’s okay. Rain check our rain check?” You nod, looking him up and down before you realize something–he’s clutching his side. 

Felix moves his body slightly out of sight so that you can’t see but you push into his room. He doesn’t stop you. 

“Felix, what’s wrong? Show me,” you demand. Sighing in defeat, he lifts his hand away from the spot on his side. You notice the blood seeping through the fabric, staining his hand when he pulls it away. “Felix, what the fuck? Is that your blood?” 

“Don’t freak out… but I may or may not have gotten stabbed.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: next mini-member chapter this wednesday, and it's one of my favorite ones so far hehe (sorry about the cliffhanger)

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[vaguely-concerned]

another really interesting thing in our man bashir to me is that I think this is the point where garak finally mostly relinquishes his self-appointed role as bashir's teacher. he seems to have taken it upon himself early on, for inscrutable but probably partially horny, partially cultivating a promising (and lovely) contact reasons of his own, to imbue julian bashir with some spysmarts and basic bastard thinking literacy skills, in the hopes that he won't go get his bright beautiful excitable ass killed at the first opportunity. there's a lot of mentor/protege undertone there in the early years. (if you want to get into asit stuff, very much in the same vein as palandine and garak's relationship in the beginning.)

but in omb garak really only has one of his little lectures, and it's basically about The thing about being a spy (and a person) that has most shaped his life: That's something else you've yet to learn, Doctor. A real intelligence agent has no ego, no conscience, no remorse. Only a sense of professionalism. There is no joy, no magic, no real delight to this, no winning, no recognition, and most importantly no connection; the reward for work well done is only ever the work itself. You don’t kiss the girl, get the key — you simply get on with turning yourself into nothing as best you can. and julian, who had just been trying to momentarily imagine a world where secrets can be cool and glamorous and for good, meaningful reasons that empower him to help the world rather than shameful and isolating and alienating and like a damocles sword hanging over him and everything he cares about, shoots back with 'well, but what if not that, though? that's the whole point of this game! this is my story not yours, trust me to know it better than you do. (I have more things to teach you too, if you’d just listen. And once he gets shot a little bit, garak does listen.)'

(somewhere beneath all this is almost exactly the same debate they will have explicitly later on -- "Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all"/"If that's true, that's one lesson I never want to learn". Something something the freedom to imagine and play around with different worlds in your head, no matter how cringefail james bond LARP nonsense that world is as long as it brings you hope and joy and new perspectives, kill the part of you that cringes etc. Garak you're allowed to get out of the closet in your head now, Tain is gone, you can imagine different things than what has been and no one will turn it against you. Im… sad)

through most of this episode garak is observing, and when he's not simply bitching about everything from the sidelines (<3), he's tentatively trying to throw in comments to play along, to figure out how the flow goes like he's learning a different language, and he's BAD at it hahaha. he barged in there to put himself in a position to learn something about julian bashir's ~*hidden inner psyche*~, but UH-OH spiritual uno reverse card time he's having to face some shit about his own psyche and the immense barrenness it's been forced to operate under for so long.

The learning between them has of course always been two-way (that’s partially what the whole relationship is built on), but in giving up the more ‘formal’ role — mask — of teacher, garak is also opening up space for realer emotional intimacy, letting one layer of artificiality fall and allowing more realness to shine through. even so he doesn’t let go of control completely until he’s faced with irrefutable (horny) proof that julian’s sentiments and ideals are backed by real conviction — julian knows (possibly better than garak does) what is a game, and what is real, and where he draws the line between frivolous and deeply necessary is different from where garak would and by the end of the ep I think garak trusts julian more, enough to leave the story in julian’s hands without trying to steer or form him even indirectly/sneakily. And to top it all off, the way julian uses his last dramatic speech to signal that he did also listen to what garak told him… augh.  

the teacher role, along with the lies (ever his swiss army knife god bless), has helped garak keep a sort of fine-tuned control of the level of emotional intimacy possible between them, stay in control of what narratives are even on the table. and I think finally letting that fade more into the background transforms their relationship in ways that can pay off big time down the line, for all that it leaves things a bit strange and tentative in the meantime. by garak standards he’s being positively transparent in this episode. for the first time he talks about his time in the order without any coy prevarication, he states his hunger for knowing julian better right down to his ~*hidden inner psyche*~ almost pathetically openly (<3<3<3<3). And this is just my headcanon and definitely not what was meant at the time of airing, the unplanned nature of the augment reveal being what it is, but in context of the whole show as it became it feels a lot like garak offering some of his own authenticity to signal that julian could trust him with his. It feels like garak has figured out at least the rough outlines of what julian has uh got going on and tried to make this gambit, having… perhaps underestimated the extent of the defenses julian has internally/psychologically against Being Known, quite aside from the practical real world consequences of his secret getting out. Anyway. Lots in this episode. Many thoughts.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter seven, how many things?)

‘Remember when you left once, that never made too much sense to me, well, it hurt you so bad, hurting me, you really came to me for sympathy, I consider you, I'm not trying to, it doesn't matter whether not I want to, I can't help it, it's a habit, your corner in my mind is well established. I wonder how many things you think about before you get to me.’

summary; the last thing you wanted was to see spencer at a bar, let alone talk to him, but the hopes of getting some sort of answer keeps you in place when he asks you to talk.

warnings; arguments, mentions of ghosting, mentions of drinking!! big emotions guys, crying, reader is a little mean, as she should be, shes an icon i love you, this whole argument will continue into the next chapter thank you i love you. genuine question how would we feel about another chapter today

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules s @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

You never expected to see him again. Not after the way things ended—if you could even call it an ending. A conversation, a few moments of vulnerability, then silence. The ghosting had been sudden, sharp like a slap you weren’t expecting. You never did well with the idea of opening up to someone, but with Spencer, you let your guard slip just enough for him to see something beneath the surface. And he promised. He promised not to hurt you.

But he had.

Now, it’s been a month since you last heard from him. A month of wondering what went wrong, a month of overanalyzing every word you exchanged, trying to figure out if it was something you said. You were doing well before you met Spencer—solid, independent, and self-assured, despite your reservations about letting anyone get too close. Then he came along, charming in that awkward, intellectual way of his. He made you believe, just for a moment, that maybe it was okay to hope for something more.

Then he vanished.

The last time you saw him was a couple of weeks ago at a movie theater, and that encounter had been enough to twist the knife he left in you. The tension between you both was palpable, a thin thread that could snap at any moment. You left that night feeling hollow, frustrated at the lack of answers, and confused by his refusal to acknowledge the way things had ended.

Now, you’re here, sitting in a dimly lit bar across from Penelope, a new friend who has become one of the few people you trust these days. Penelope was fun, always light-hearted and full of life, and tonight was supposed to be about anything but Spencer. You needed this—needed to escape the weight of it all, even if just for a few hours.

You take a sip of your drink, laughing at something Penelope says, when you feel it. That familiar prickle along the back of your neck that tells you someone’s watching you. You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.

Spencer.

Of course, he’s here. Of all the bars in the city, of all the nights you could’ve decided to go out, he had to be here tonight. Your heart clenches in your chest, a mixture of anger and something you don’t want to admit still lingers between you.

His eyes meet yours, and there’s something in them—regret, maybe? You look away quickly, turning back to Penelope, trying to ignore the rapid beating of your heart. But you can feel him moving closer. You knew it would happen eventually, didn’t you? You knew he couldn’t avoid you forever.

Penelope’s eyes follow yours, and her expression shifts. “Do you want to leave?” she asks softly, but you shake your head. No. You’re not running this time. Not again.

Spencer stands just a few feet away now, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot like he doesn’t quite know how to approach. It’s not like he can just walk up to you and pretend everything’s fine. You wish you could muster the strength to ignore him, to just let him stand there in his discomfort, but part of you needs something from him. An answer, an explanation—anything.

“Can we talk?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You meet his gaze, and the flash of guilt in his eyes makes you swallow hard. It’s unfair, you think, that he can still make you feel this way—torn between wanting to scream at him and wanting to understand.

You push your chair back, standing up. “Fine. Let’s talk.” Maybe it was the need for something resembling a clear answer. Maybe it was the hopes you’d get one.

Maybe it was purely that you hated yourself and needed to further those feelings by indulging in this.

The air between you is thick as you follow him to a quieter corner of the bar. Penelope gives you an encouraging nod before you leave, and you appreciate it, though her presence now feels far away. All you can focus on is the man in front of you, the man who has left you wondering, hurting, and so damn confused. Everything around you is a bit of a fog as you grow light headed.

Spencer doesn’t sit, and neither do you. Instead, you stand there, arms crossed tightly across your chest, waiting for him to say something. Anything. The air is full, suffocatingly full of his scent and the feeling of his lips brushing over your hair, the memories of him, of you, of what he did — or didn’t do, being shoved down your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft but filled with sincerity.

You scoff. “That’s it? You’re sorry? I don’t care.”

He looks down at his feet, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—things got complicated and I just… I don’t know how to explain everything.”

“So you just don’t explain at all?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but you don’t care. You’re tired of feeling like the one who has to keep it together, tired of the constant guessing.

He takes a deep breath, looking up at you with an expression that almost makes you falter. Almost. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it?” You take a step closer, your eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just didn’t care enough to give me an explanation. You left, Spencer. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I did care. I do care,” he says, almost too quickly, and the desperation in his voice catches you off guard.

“Then why?” you ask, your voice quieter now, the anger giving way to the hurt you’ve been trying to keep buried, almost like a plea “Why- Why. Why couldn’t you just talk to me? Why couldn’t you have just been honest?” Now it was a plea, you needed something from him, anything, something to pick yourself apart for as a reason to his absence.

He hesitates, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again. His silence is answer enough, and it makes your heart sink even further.

“Is it that difficult for you to be honest?” You huffed, the anger bubbling in your chest and maybe you’d feel guilty and mindful, if you didn’t feel so hurt.

“I—” he begins, but you cut him off.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize if you’re not going to tell me why, Spencer. You owe me that much.”

He looks torn, like he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to. His silence stretches on, and you feel your frustration boiling over.

“This is exactly what I mean,” you say, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You keep apologizing, but you won’t actually explain anything! I’ve spent the last month wondering what the hell I did wrong. You promised you wouldn’t hurt me, and then you just… disappeared.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, his voice barely audible.

“But you did,” you reply, your throat tightening as the emotion you’ve been holding back for weeks finally threatens to spill over. “You left me hanging, Spencer. You made me believe that maybe I could trust you, and then you did exactly what you promised you wouldn’t.”

You can see the guilt etched across his face, but it’s not enough. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and it feels like a punch to the gut because it’s still not the answer you need. He’s not giving you what you deserve. He’s not giving you anything

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay. “This is useless.” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

You turn away from him, your feet moving before you even fully register it. You need to get out of here, need to escape before the tears break free and you completely unravel in front of him.

“Wait—” he calls after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t. You push through the crowded bar, ignoring the curious glances from strangers and the concerned look Penelope throws your way as you pass her. You just need to get outside, to breathe.

The cool night air hits your face as you step out onto the street, and the dam finally breaks. Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless, and you hate yourself for it. You hate that he still has this effect on you, that he can still make you feel this vulnerable. You lean against the side of the building, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could somehow hold yourself together through sheer will alone. But it’s too late. The cracks are already there.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to let someone in like this only for them to break you down again. You’d been so careful for so long, so guarded, and then Spencer came along and promised he wouldn’t hurt you. And you believed him. But promises are just words, aren’t they? Words that can be broken as easily as they’re spoken.

The door to the bar swings open, and you know without looking that it’s him. You hear his footsteps approach, but you don’t turn around.“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice so close now. “I know that’s not enough, and im sorry I can’t give you the answer you want, but I’m sorry- I want you to know I am so sorry.”

You laugh bitterly through your tears, shaking your head. “That’s the problem, Spencer. I don’t need you to be sorry— I couldn’t give a fuck less if you’re sorry. Im asking you why.”

He stands there, silent, and you can feel his presence behind you, but he doesn’t try to touch you. He doesn’t try to comfort you, and you’re glad because you’re not sure you could handle it if he did. His touch is like a faint memory now, sometimes when you turned the heat of the shower up just enough, for a split second it felt the same as his body against yours, that was the closest you had gotten to any sort of comfort, any sort of warmth.

“I thought you were different,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him. It was stupid of you. To have believed that, to still want to believe that. You wanted to understand, you wanted him to be honest, to keep the promises he made, like you trusted he would.

“I am different,” he says, his voice filled with a kind of sadness that makes your chest ache, like a plea. You wanted to believe him, you wanted this to be easy. You wanted to feel like this was the same person you had spent the last six months slowly falling in love with. In a way you knew he was the same, despite his broken promises and the hurt he inflicted onto you, the look in his eye was the same.

You shake your head again, finally turning to face him. “Not enough,” you whisper.

[wheredafandomat]

Queen of the nine

Loki x female queen! Reader

18+| contains angst, smut, powerful queen bitch reader!

Basically Loki is locked up and you gotta go get your man

“Loki, don’t go, don’t leave me, please.” You pleaded, practically on your knees as you tugged his tunic.

“I—” he began, glancing down at you in a moment of uncertainty before his resolve returned “I must reclaim my rightful throne.” He declared.

“B-but you promised,” you whimpered, “you said we could leave together, make our own destiny.” You sniffled remembering your own cursed fate.

“This is me making my own destiny.”

It had been another uneventful day. Between signing truces and assigning roles, there was little room for one’s own enjoyment. You had recently taken up crocheting as a hobby yet you found little time to finish any projects. One thing you could agree with your late mother on was that this job wasn’t for the faint hearted or anyone with any desire for creativity. This job was demanding, it required those who were able to remain stoic and impartial, something that was unnatural to anyone with any kind emotion. People always waited for smiles, frowns, any slither of adour, something that took every ounce of energy to not express. To do nothing was the hardest job of all. That’s why you found yourself breathing deeply when one of your chambermaids greeted you with the news of Queen Frigga of Asgards passing. In that moment, every memory of the place that you had fought to bury deep within your psyche surfaced. The moments spent laughing, learning from Frigga, walking through her flower garden holding hands with Loki, Loki. You bit your lip as you recalled every precious second spent with Loki; the smiles, the kisses, the love, the sex, the promises, the deceit, everything up until the point he abandoned you.

“Your majesty, your majesty.” She called, getting your attention again.

“Yes, sorry.”

“Will you be attending the royal ceremony?”

“Yes, could you arrange a carriage for me please.”

“Of course.”

Your journey to Asgard was a quiet one, your gaze cast over the mountains as you tried to bite down every last fragment of emotion you had, especially in front of your foot soldiers. When they looked at you they saw a valiant queen, not a weeping wench; you wanted to preserve the former. The closer you drew, the more uneven your breaths were. You wondered how Loki looked, whether he looked as aged as you no doubt did. After hearing that his conquest for Midgard was unsuccessful, there was nothing more. By the time that you had become queen, you found yourself disinterested in how Loki ended up. You did discover that he resided in Asgard again but you didn’t want to visit to be certain, you couldn’t. Now however, you wished you had, considering you were about to be reunited with the man who left you the morning after declaring his undying love for you. What if things were awkward? No, this was Loki, your Loki.

“Your majesty, we have arrived.” One of the men spoke. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking out of the casement, eyes widening as you took in the familiar gates of the palace. Before you could open the door, it swung open.

“Your majesty.” Thor greeted, offering his hand as he helped you out.

“Thor.” You smiled, hugging him tightly once you stepped out. You hadn’t realised how much you had missed him. “Although I am happy to see you, I apologise that it isn’t under better circumstances.” You frowned as you pulled apart. His smile faltered for a moment before he replied.

“Thank you your maj—”

“It’s simply y/n to you.” You noted.

“Y/n then.” He corrected himself before pulling you into another hug. You looked around, unable to resist the feeling of despondency you felt at not seeing Loki.

“Where’s Loki?” You questioned, mumbling into his shoulder.

“He—um.” Thor stuttered causing you to break the hug.

“Thor?”

“Imprisoned.” He stated.

“Where?” You gasped.

“Here.” Thor spoke, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he observed your reaction.

“Here? On Asgard?” You almost choked.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Odin has his son, prince of Asgard, imprisoned on Asgard?” You questioned incredulously.

“Yes.” He mumbled.

“Today of all days?” You scoffed getting angrier.

“Yes.” Thor confirmed quietly.

“Take me to Odin!”

You made your way to the royal chambers of the palace where Odin was currently. Thor knocked his door before receiving passage only to be pushed passed by you.

“Y/n” Odin smiled “I’m glad to see you made it here safe.”

“My condolences.” You offered, making your way to him before you exchanged a quick hug in greeting.

“Well as you know, I’ve still got a realm to govern” he shrugged, breaking the hug “not much time to grieve” he added, although you could tell he was hurting.

“Of course.” You agreed.

“Sit.” He spoke, gesturing to a chair. “What bothers you child?”

“It’s Loki.” You answered. Odin's jaw clenched before he replied.

“Loki? What about Loki?” He answered, seemingly angry at the mention of him.

“Am I right in thinking you’ve got him imprisoned here?”

“Yes, he’s a traitor to Asgard.” Odin spat.

“But today of all days—”

“He is a traitor y/n.” Odin insisted

“He deserves to say goodbye too, she was his moth—”

“No.”

“Ple—”

“No!” He thundered causing some of your guards to push through the door before you stood, gesturing them away. Once you had assured them that you were fine, you turned your focus onto Odin again.

“Apologies for the intrusion but you’d do well to remember that I’m not the child that left Asgard, I am a queen, the queen of the nine and therefore your superior. My asking was a kindnesses, but now, I order it.” You spoke firmly. Odin narrowed his gaze slightly, jaw clenching again as you studied his expression, finding it hard to remember that he wasn’t actually Loki's biological father despite their uncanny resemblance in this moment. Exhaling, Odin relaxed.

“No, you aren’t the same y/n that left here, although, I see your devotion to Loki hasn’t changed.”

You opened your mouth to answer before he spoke again.

“Very well, Loki has today, he’ll have to return to the dungeons this time tomorrow and not a moment later.”

“Thank you.” You smiled curtly before turning to leave.

“And y/n, you’d do well to remember that you are a guest in my realm.” Odin asserted almost warningly, causing you to pause.

“And yet, I’m more powerful than you in it” you answered, flicking your wrist as you turned to face him again before an apple appeared in your hand.

“What’s this?” Odin scoffed.

“A ticket” you stated “one night, one bite and you’ll be reunited with her although only briefly, your time isn’t now.” You finished in a whisper, handing him the apple as a gift for allowing you to see Loki as well as a demonstration of your power.

“Thank you.” He nodded earnestly before you left.

“Please, release Loki.” You instructed Thor.

Once Thor had left, you busied yourself in the throne room, taking the time to sit and appreciate the view from Asgards Throne.

“It suits you, regality.”

“And yet a throne would suit you ill Loki.” You answered, gaze focusing on the man walking out from behind a pillar.

“Would it?” He questioned, stepping towards you.

“You’d realise that a throne doesn’t change anything, you’d still be a Jotun, you’d still feel unloved and you’d still be angry Loki, just all whilst sitting on a throne.” You explained.

“A throne nonetheless.” He shrugged as he reached you before kneeling, picking your hand up and placing a kiss at the back of it. “Y/n.” He addressed fondly.

“Hello Loki.” You grinned, Loki reciprocating your smile. Standing up, you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry for your loss.” You spoke into his chest as he held you tighter before pulling back, cupping your cheeks.

“Thank you, for giving me today.”

Nodding, you hugged him again.

The ceremony for Frigga was pleasant, although still. Asgard was grieving their queen, an irreplaceable force. Following the official ceremony was a party celebrating her life and rein. This event was a lot more joyous, upbeat.

A plethora of staff greeted you, having remembered you from when you were younger, praising the woman you had grown into. As well as that, there were kings and queens from other realms saluting you, thanking you.

“Care to dance?” Loki offered as he approached you leaving some of the other royals shocked at his brazy behavior; they obviously didn’t know your history with him.

“Very well.” You accepted, placing your hand in his open one.

Loki held you against him as you began waltzing around the room, nearly all eyes on you both.

“Do you remember in our youth when we’d sneak in here and pretend it was our wedding?” Loki recalled as you smiled zealously.

“And we’d pretend our juice was wine.” You added.

“Before we grew older and realised that wine wasn’t actually all that pleasant.” Loki chuckled.

“Yes, then we realised that if we were to actually wed, we wouldn’t finish the night drinking wine.” You snickered.

“No, we discovered something else.” He spoke teasingly before dipping you, your eyes focused intensely on one another’s before he slowly picked you up again, holding you firmly against him as the moment passed.

“So” you began, clearing your throat “in your conquest to take over half the realms, did you encounter any loving princesses, or maybe a prince?” You queried.

“A bit of both” he answered, a pang of jealousy reverberating through you “I expect the same as you but nothing that ever compared to my first love, to you.” He finished, his hands finding your waist as you lifted your head from his chest.

“I fear I wasn’t your first love Loki.” You admitted, Loki’s brows knitting questioningly. “Your first love, your first companion was dejection” you explained, hand running through his hair “I only wish I had entered your life sooner, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

Loki closed his eyes, hand finding the small of your back as you continued swaying.

“Maybe not.” He uttered.

Once the night drew to an end, you as well as the other guest royals were escorted to your rooms for the night. Loki insisted he escort you so halfway though you told your men to head to bed. The both of you walked, back of your hands touching occasionally. When you reached your door, you found yourself wishing the walk was longer.

“Tonight was—” you started.

“Delightful.” Loki finished.

“Yes, delightful.” You agreed, your eyes meeting again.

“Well, goodnight y/n.” Loki bid leaving you feeling a little forlorn.

“Goodnight Loki.” You smiled curtly before turning and opening the door, closing it behind you as your back hit the door with a thump and a sigh. You thought about Loki, about opening the door, hugging him, kissing him. You thought about the possibility of this being the last time you see him, the last time you touch him. Your mind swam with questions, thoughts, regrets before you decided you’d quickly chase after Loki. Turning, you swung the door open before being met by Loki who was still facing it. Exchanging a small laugh between you both, you kissed him deeply, Loki reciprocating your eagerness before you pulled him inside, closing the door behind him. Loki was quick to discard of both your clothes, kneeling once again as he kissed your stomach. He lifted your legs, helping you step out of your underwear before he was exploring your centre with his mouth. It felt like old times again, your relationship restored in a matter of hours like no time had passed. As always, he had you a moaning mess before laying you against the bed and kissing you passionately. You widened your legs as he positioned himself between them, kissing your neck as he rutted against you.

“I want you.” You spoke softly, looking up at him as you smoothed his hair out of his face.

“I’m right here y/n.” He answered, taking your hand and kissing it before entering you. You both moaned as Loki bottomed out, lacing his fingers with yours.

The sex was slow, intimate, consuming. Each calculated thrust erased decades away from each other, every round removing centuries. Your mind expunged the hurt, the betrayal, the desolation as he drove into you, chest pressed to yours. You could feel his heartbeat, feel his breath tickling your ear, feel him evading you in the most pleasant way. You hadn’t realised how much your body yearned for his, how much you had missed his tender touch, his warm embrace, the sound of him in your ear as he came. The night was a loving, sweaty, close odyssey.

When you awoke, it was to the rays of light beaming in and the feeling of Lokis chest pressed to your back as you slumbered in a naked nirvana. You stayed like that for a while, pressed together as the daunting knowledge of this being the last morning of you both like this dawned upon you. You enjoyed it nonetheless regardless of whether this feeling was fleeting.

“Goodmorning.” Loki smiled, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Morning.” You answered, spinning in his grip to kiss him properly.

Eventually you both moved your affections to the washroom, fucking against the wall before relaxing in a pool of warmth. You sat between Loki’s legs as he pulled your back against him, both of you melting into the water.

“I don’t want this day to end.” You murmured as if your quietness made reality less real.

“I know my inamorata” Loki replied, kissing your shoulder, the familiar moniker sending a shiver down your spine “but I must face the consequences of my own actions.” He finished causing you to sigh.

“Regality suits me but I’m just lonely, Loki. I govern all nine realms, billions of beings and yet I’m so lonely, a throne changes nothing.” You laughed mirthlessly.

“As long as I live, you’ll never be alone, I’ll always be here.” Loki insisted, kissing your neck.

Once you were out of the bath and dressed, the guards began preparing for Loki’s return but you had other ideas. You couldn’t face life alone again. You couldn’t leave without Loki. Despite him previously abandoning you, you couldn’t do the same to him, not now. When Thor knocked your door, knowing Loki was with you, you began executing your plan.

“I require an audience with Odin.” You began, Loki’s brows knitting in confusion.

“Okay.” Thor answered unsure.

“And I require Loki’s presence too.”

“Y/n.” Loki called.

“Get it done Thor.”

As planned, Thor had arranged a meeting with Odin just before it was time for Loki to return. On the journey to the throne room, you briefed Loki on the plan. He agreed, still wanting to do his time. When you approached, you sauntered in confidently.

“Loki is leaving with me.” You declared.

“That’s absurd!” Odin scoffed.

“Make no mistake, he will not be a free man, he will serve his time but in my home realm.” You delved.

“I forbid it.” Odin spat.

“You cannot have a prince locked up in the dungeons of his home realm, that’s what’s absurd.”

Odin remained silent for a few moments seemingly thinking.

“I’d be happy to have your guards watch him but he will be on my soil, think of it as me taking him off of your hands.”

“Fine” Odin relented “but when the time comes, I’ll require a favour from you.”

“Simply call for me.” You agreed and just like that, Loki was coming home with you. Reunited, at last.

“Fine” Odin gave up “but when the time comes, I’ll require a favour from you.”

“Simply call for me.” You agreed and just like that, Loki was coming home with you. Reunited, at last.

“Simply call for me.” You agreed and just like that, Loki was coming home with you. The two of you reunited, at last.

[coleskingdom]

Want Me To Prove It

Will Ospreay x F Reader

Minors DNI NSFW

@midwestmade29 @madhatterbri

The tension between Will and I could be cut with a knife, the cat and mouse game had been fun, but I had made one snide remark and now you regretted ever saying it. The two of you had toyed with each other for weeks, the innuendos, then he had held a candy bar out of your reach, and the words that now haunted you when you said “ I don’t beg” his eyes flashed at the words, and a new game had begun.

“What do you mean we are sharing a room?” As he handed me a room key. “Why are you so nervous?” as he took my bag off my shoulder grazing my my arm as he did leading us towards the elevator. “ I’m not nervous just irritated, I don’t like sharing “ he stood behind me as he leaned in “Good neither do I” his low whisper felt on my neck I involuntarily shivered at his words.

I walked towards the room using the key to let us in. “ One bed seriously Will it’s one thing for us to be in a room together, but the same bed.” my eyes on his, “You’ve been in my bed before love, are you afraid I’m going to be a bit of naughty boy.” his grin made me weak in the knees. “ You’re not wrong but we’d watch a movie and then I’d go back to my room.” putting my phone down. “ Yeah and what would you do when you’d get back to your room?” his eyes on me, “Sleep Will, I’d go to sleep.” frustration and irritation in my voice, if he’d only knew the things I did and thoughts I had about him. Looking at him now though he looked as if he was reading my mind. “Y/N it’s one night, I’m just giving you a hard time, I’ll be a proper gentleman. I’m just giving you shit. I’m sorry if I took it too far.” his voice softer. “You’re fine, it’s me, I’m stressed and it’s been a rough day. It’s not your fault, I’m going to shower and get ready for bed.” reaching for my bag. “You haven’t eaten all day, I’ll order food, go shower, by the time you’re done. Food will be here and we can watch whatever you want.” he was always looking after me, but to be fair I was always looking after him as well.

I took a long shower psyching myself up that I was perfectly capable of sleeping next to that perfect man without it being an issue. He’s my friend, if I’m honest he’s my person. I put on my shorts and my favorite T-shirt messy bun my stomach in knots.

I opened the door, and there he was shirtless, and in those damn gray sweatpants that left nothing to the imagination. He brought in the food, and set it on the table, turning he sees me staring at him. “See something you want?” leaving the food and walking towards me my back against the wall.

“ I bet I can make you beg” Will’s eyes scanning you, you focus on his lips, where he’s peeking his tongue out a little bit.

“I don’t beg” your voice portraying confidence your body doesn’t feel as he leans in his elbows enclosing you against the wall

“ Want me to prove it then” his words your undoing as he leans into kiss me, his lips softer than I had imagined. He pulls back slightly to see if he’s misread the situation. I close the last inch parting our lips, teasing his tongue for a second before he seizes control, dominating the moment the way he always does.Tasting, sucking, nipping, devouring me. "You think I'll get right into it, don't you?" he humorously hums in my mouth. "Love.. I haven't even started yet. You've no idea what you're getting into with me. I'll make you beg for more even while you're coming undone.”He nudges my chin with his nose, hot lips latching onto the delicate skin of my throat, sucking, pecking, biting between words. My mind focuses on him, every sense starved for his words and touch..

“Will, please" my eyes find his, “Please what? Tell me and I’ll give you what you need.”his mouth on my neck still, “ I want you, I need you, I b….” His hands move so fast that I’m naked and on the bed with him over me my hands on the waist band of the sweatpants tugging them down , he manages to kick them the rest of the way off.

"What do you taste like?" he muses.The question isn't aimed at me. More like he's voicing his own thoughts, twirling his tongue over my pebbled nipple. He toys the other between his fingers, pinching, rolling, and driving me wild.

Satisfied with my hips arching off the mattress, pleading for more, he grips my thighs, pushes my legs back, then rests my ankles over his shoulders. The first tiny kiss to my mound forces the air from my lungs.

"You're trouble," I sigh. "Stop teasing." “Teasing is the best part, sweet girl”

Spreading me with his thumbs, he licks me slowly, bottom to top, dragging the flat of his tongue up and over my clit. And then he sucks. Hard. The move lights up my body and my thighs quiver in time with a surprised gasp.”You taste like mine." I grasp his hair, forcing him back down, and feel him smile against me.

"Greedy... needy... pretty

little thing." He punctuates every word with a thorough lick, and then... the show begins.

"Oh my," I mewl, fisting his hair.

"Will.” He doesn't respond with words.Instead, he slides one finger inside, timing the thrusts with the flicks of his tongue. He doesn't let me come when the orgasm looms close by. He eases off, kissing and biting my inner thigh as his hands knead my hips. He does it again but this time “ Y/N look at me, tell me how much you want to come.” eyes. “ Will please let me come.”His head drops down, torturing my clit with his tongue. I'm so ready for the orgasm it's mere seconds before it hits. I'm vaguely aware I've clamped my thighs around his head, holding him hostage as he licks me through the release.

"I've got you, love."He's suddenly closer, higher, his arms flush to my sides. He kisses me as in one long, slow thrust almost has me coming again. He drives himself home, letting out a low growl that forces my body into high alert.

"Fuck," he breathes, pressing his lips to my forehead. "So wet. So tight... so fucking mine.”His movements are slow, caring,tender. So slow so thorough that I feel every inch of him. His grip on my waist is nothing short of possessive. His thrusts calculated to drive me crazy. His light eyes filled with emotion, the pace is not frantic or mindless. Like with everything he does it builds to the moment every nibbling, biting kiss, every time he sinks into me, every push meticulous...as I come hard, tears fall from my eyes as I understand everything so clearly. Not changing the pace one bit as he drives himself home over again. The weight of his big body pinning me to the mattress magnifies how erotic this feels. How close we are. I feel him come inside me, the groan the restraint, the little moan as he buries his head in the crook of my neck.

My arms wraparound him keeping him there, for this moment it all makes perfect sense. I’m afraid of what I’ll see when the moment is over. “Y/N “as he turns his head into the side of my neck. “Yeah” my words not knowing what’s coming next. He rolls off of me , laying on his side, “ hey look at me, you don’t get to hide from me. If we need to talk let’s talk.” His hand brushing my cheek “ what if? “ I began “ What if what?” his tone gentle “ What if all of this just made perfect fucking sense, and I don’t know if I can go back to how we were before?” I hear him let out his breath as I close my eyes realizing the absolute truth and vulnerability in my words. “Y/N please open your eyes. Look at me, I don’t want to go back.”

[babydollmarauders]

CHRISTMAS MIRACLE — COLE CAUFIELD

cole caufield x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n gets stuck with her enemy, Cole, and finds out hate can lead to some miracle discoveries

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, long intro, handjob, p in v (protected), sub!cole (ish?). (4.7k words)

notes: welcome to day 10 of my 12 days of kinkmas! we’re in the final stretch of kinkmas and i hope you guys are enjoying it!

this isn’t how i want to be spending the first day of my break.

well, i guess the first hour of my break.

i was just getting ready to head home, dreading driving in the blizzard of a snow storm and taking my time to psych myself up, when an equipment manager called me over. he told me a player forgot his ipad and is asking if anyone would be willing to drop it off on their way home because he’d like to go over plays during the break.

hesitantly, i said sure, i’d bring it to them; but what i wasn’t aware of, and what i’m sure my coworker conveniently forgot to mention, is that the player in question is Cole fucking Caufield.

it’s not necessarily that i hate Cole; on the contrary, i had always thought he was extremely kind and talented.

in fact, when i had originally interned with the Laval Rocket, he was always incredibly nice to me. and in turn, i fell for him a little each day.

but then, he was called up to Montreal, and the following season, i was offered the position of media manager for the Canadiens.

i was excited, i spent the week leading up to my first day thinking about how wonderful it would be to be able to joke around with Cole again. i thought of sketch tiktoks for the team to do, most with Cole as the leading man because i knew he was a fan favorite, and questions to ask as they took the ice for practice.

and it was great at first. Cole was sweet and he was always willing to take part in team tiktoks, always greeting me with a smile. but around a month later, something changed.

no longer was he the kindhearted individual i was familiar with, instead he was cold shouldered and rude; snarky and arrogant. and that’s the way it’s stayed. for the past few years it’s felt like pulling teeth to try and communicate with him, and even worse to convince him to be in team tiktoks.

which brings me to now, standing at the front door of his house, an ipad tucked under my arm as i stand in the blistering cold. snow sticks on my lashes, flurries in my hair, but my toque does nothing to shield me from the cold Montréal air.

if i drove here on the icy roads, my windshield wipers at full speed, just for him to not even answer the fucking door, i’m gonna lose it.

i bang my fist upon the door again, body shivering from the cold, and it takes merely a moment for him to finally open the door.

he greets me with a wide smile, but when he sees that it’s me who stands before him, that cheery facade drops, a cold, blank expression taking its place.

i can hear the news blasting from his living room as the heated air wafts out of the home, blasting my face and making my nose go numb from the sudden cold to warm.

“what?” he asks, voice monotone.

“here,” i shove the ipad into his chest harshly, making him cough from the sudden impact, “next time, don’t leave your fucking ipad at the rink.”

he glares back, taking the ipad into his hands and parting his lips to argue.

“it was an accident,” he sneers, “trust me, if i knew you would bring it to me, i definitely would’ve double checked i had it.”

you.

my body fills with anger, insulted yet hurt by the way he says it. as though he’s repulsed by me.

“ya know what, asshole?” i don’t even get to finish my quip before i’m cut off a loud alarm coming from the tv.

it gathers both he and i’s attention, his head snapping back to look at the screen, while i peer around him to see it.

“with the blizzard picking up and roads becoming icier, officials have reported that all roads will now be closed for the night. stay inside and stay warm. we’ll get back to you when the storm passes.”

the news reporters words echo through my head, forcing me to end my comeback and just turn around.

i take a step towards the stairs that lead up to his door, but i’m stopped almost immediately.

“hey, where are you going?” Cole calls out from behind me.

“home!”

“they just said the roads are closed.”

“exactly,” i huff, “which means i need to get going quick so that if i get pulled over, i can say i was already driving.”

i’m about to take a step down the stairs when a hand wraps around my forearm, pulling me back.

“don’t be stupid, y/n,” he says, “you’re gonna crash, and i’m not living with your death on my fucking conscience.”

i turn to look at him, a heated glare in my eyes, “i’m not staying with you.”

a mischievous smirk spreads across his lips as he pushes me toward his open door, “yeah, you are.”

i stumble into the warm house, a stark contrast to the weather outside, and i just get my bearing when i hear the door shut, Cole flipping the lock and walking idly past me towards the living room.

“what the fuck is your problem?” i huff, shaking my head as i succumb to my fate, removing my coat and hanging it on a coat hook next to his door.

“my problem?” he looks over at me astonished, “i’m trying not to let you die.”

i roll my eyes, my arms crossing over my chest.

“i would not have died.” but he’s not paying any attention to my words, his eyes locked on something else entirely.

i follow his line of sight straight down to my breasts, inadvertently pushed up from my crossed arms, and my nipples pebbling through my thin dress.

“oh my god,” i hiss, moving my arms to cover my breasts, “fucking pig.”

his eyes snap up to mine before he rolls them.

“get over yourself, it’s nothing special.”

for some reason, i feel offended. not that him looking at them was great, but the way he shrugs it off and implies my tits are average?

“oh fuck off,” i fume, “people would pay to see these.”

he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows a few times, “you saying people pay to see you naked?”

“what? no!” i’m at a loss for words, not an easy achievement for most people, and yet a common occurrence when i’m around him.

“pretty sure that’s what you implied. and i’m sorry to let you down, but i’m not paying twenty bucks to see your rack.”

i gape, blinking at him in shock, “you couldn’t even pay me fifty to see these!”

i’m not even sure why i’m letting this conversation drag on; why i’m even entertaining it.

i sigh, stalking past him and bumping into his shoulder as i make my way to the living room.

“why would i pay when i could see them for free?” he chuckles at my lame tantrum, following behind me.

“what makes you think that?” i sneer, dropping down on the couch, Cole quick to follow.

“well that’s why you took the job, right?” he laughs, “it’s why you were constantly putting me in the spotlight of the team tiktoks and why you were always so buddy-buddy with me? you’re into me.”

i stare back at him in anger, but also frustration. frustration that anyone would think i would take a job just for a man.

“let’s set things fucking straight,” i snap, “i took the job because it was good pay and i grew up here, therefore, the Canadiens are my team and the plan was always to work for them. long before you showed up.

“i put you in the spotlight of the tiktoks because you’re the fan favorite. you have teeny-bopper girls fawning over your nice guy act and for some reason they fucking eat it up. and finally, i was ‘buddy-buddy’ with you because i thought you were a nice fucking guy and you made me believe we could be friends. never would i ever make a career decision for a fucking guy.”

i’m absolutely seething by the end of my rant, one knee bent on the couch and my body twisted to face him.

“sure.”

that one worded response sets me off. i don’t know what it is about Cole Caufield that gives him the ability to get under my skin like nobody else has, but i’m absolutely rageful.

“god, i can’t believe i ever fucking liked you!” i freeze. the words slipped out before i even had a second to process them, and now i watch as a cocky grin paints his face.

“so you admit, you like me.”

“liked. past tense,” i tell him, “i fell victim to your charming, nice guy facade. but never again.”

“you keep saying that!” he grunts, “i am a nice guy!”

“yeah? well, you certainly pick and choose who to be nice to, and for some reason, i’m not on that list.”

i can’t understand for the life of me why i’m suddenly feeling emotional, but i decide in the moment to blame it on pent up frustration. i always have been an angry crier.

“which is fine,” i sniffle, “but god, you didn’t have to be such a fucking dick. i liked you and i thought you liked me; but then all of a sudden you switched up. you started hating me, and i don’t even know what i did!”

Cole seems at a loss for words, shocked by sudden change of emotions. but, he also seems confused, his brows furrowed and a frown upon his lips.

“you don’t know?” he huffs, “i literally asked you out like five times, y/n! and you rejected me every single time!”

now it’s my turn to be confused, “what? no, you didn’t.”

“uh, yeah, i did! i asked if you wanted to go out for drinks after games like five times and every time you said no!”

realization dawns on me, clarity filling my head, and i can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“why are you laughing?!” Cole groans, head falling onto the back of the couch and hands covering his face.

“because,” i giggle, “this is ridiculous.”

“how?” his response is muffled by the palms of his hands, but i can hear the frustration in his voice.

“because you asked me out five times and all five times, i thought you were just asking if i wanted to join the team for drinks!”

his hands fly away from his face, head snapping up to look at me, “what?!”

i nod my head, overcome by a fit of giggles.

“you thought i was asking you…. to hang out as a group?”

“yes!” i cackle, “and i get uncomfortable in crowded bars, so i made excuses! jesus, Cole! we’ve hated each other for years because i misunderstood your idea of a date!”

Cole is silent for a moment, staring off in front of him at the news playing on the tv, before he slowly begins chuckling.

“oh my god,” he laughs, a hand slapping down on his thigh and making me laugh even harder, “so you hate me now, don’t you?”

“oh yeah,” i nod, “you were a dick!”

“hey!” he chuckles, “you weren’t very nice to me either! i mean just like fifteen minutes ago you shoved an ipad into my chest!”

“you deserved that.” i point to him, narrowing my eyes.

he shrugs, “alright, yeah, i deserved that.”

the room goes mostly quiet, Cole watching the news, while my sight is drawn to the window, watching the snow cascade down to the ground.

we sit there for at least half an hour, him flipping through channels and me watching the blizzard, before a lightbulb goes off in my head.

“hey, i have an idea.” i announce, catching Cole’s attention.

“hmm?”

“i’m sure we both still have some pent up anger and frustration, we can’t exactly just erase the past couple years of hating each other,” he hums for me to continue, “how about a snowball fight?”

he glances over at me with a singular raised brow, “a snowball fight? what, like we’re six?”

“exactly!” i nod, “we get to pelt each other with snowballs and let out any residual anger towards each other, and then we get to start anew. get a clean slate. whadd’ya say?”

his eyes flicker between me and the window for several moments before he nods, “i say let’s do it.”

with that, we scurry from the couch, bundling back into our coats and toque’s, he even lends me a pair of gloves, and then we’re running out into the thick blanket of snow that covers the ground.

we agree on fifteen minutes to build our shields, hurrying to build snow walls as high as we can, and once i deem the ten minutes over, i’m hiding behind my wall, crafting snowballs into a pile beside me.

grabbing one in my hand, i peer out from behind my shield, watch as Cole does the same, and on instinct my hand flexes forward, throwing the snowball as hard as i can.

obviously not from here, Cole’s shield crumbles upon my third snowball throw, making me cackle as the snow cascades down upon him.

he looks over at me with a glare and i duck down, listening to the pelt of snowballs against my shield, but then it goes quiet and all i can hear is the crunch of snow until suddenly it stops.

my brows thread together as i keep an ear out for any sound, but just as i’m about to peer over my wall, it comes crumbling down, and i look up to find the culprit grinning victoriously.

“hey! no fair!” i huff, throwing a snowball right at his chest. he gapes back at me in astonishment.

“you knocked mine down too!” he shouts, a snowball hitting me in the shoulder.

“yeah, but that was an accident! yours was just poorly made!” another snowball to his shoulder, “mine was made well, you knocked it down on purpose!”

he shrugs, taking off and crunching through the snow as he tries to get away. he stops to pick up more snow and i take my chance to throw, hitting him square in the back.

but he doesn’t even turn around, tossing a snowball over his shoulder. i attempt to dodge it but my efforts are in vain as the snow lands directly on the top of my head, making me scoff in frustration.

“rude!” i yell, taking aim and hitting him directly in the back of the head. snow sticks his hair and he whips around to look at me, but upon seeing me; my hat knocked off and snow covering the top of my head, he starts laughing.

“that’s it!” i call out, stomping over to where he’s fallen onto his butt mid-laughter, his eyes squeezed closed as he chuckles with glee.

towering over him, i hold a snowball in my hand, not throwing it, but instead smashing it upon the top of his head.

his laughter falters, his eyes flying open to scowl up at me as i begin to giggle.

“you’re right, that was pretty funny!” i laugh, but i don’t make it long before i step forward, my foot hitting an icy patch of grass, and i fall forward, a squeal leaving my lips as i land on top of him.

“shit.” i breathe out.

“guess you really did fall for me.” he quips and i roll my eyes, but despite the cheesy line and the freezing cold air, the spots in which his hands rest on my sides are burning.

“that was so corny..” i tell him.

“yeah?” he raises a brow, one hand leaving my side, and i almost mourn his touch, but then a handful of snow is being shoved down my coat and i’m squealing, wiggling on top of him as the snow begins to melt into icy water and trickle down my body.

“oh my god, Cole!” i moan in frustration, my face twisting in discomfort.

“don’t do that.” he stiffens, his hands holding me still on top of him.

confusion pinches my face, but then i feel it, his half hardened cock pressing against my thigh.

my teeth sink into my bottom lip, a spark running through my body, but i push myself off of him, standing up and brushing off my coat.

“ya know what sounds good?” i ask him, stepping back as he stands as well.

“what?” he grunts, a small glare pointed my way.

“hot cocoa,” i smile, “or… something else to warm us up.”

“i don’t know if i have cocoa, but i have coffee.”

i nod, “that works! it’ll warm us up and wake us up!”

Cole trudges into the house and i follow suit, but despite my attempt to change the subject, my mind is still stuck on him being turned on.

a gust of air blows through as i reach the door, a shiver traveling down my spine, and i quickly step inside, shutting the door behind me.

i shed my coat and gloves before kicking off my shoes, hanging my now damp hat on the coat hook over my coat.

trailing behind him into the kitchen, i watch as he opens cupboards, rifling through them. i hop up on the counter, legs pressed together, sitting silently until he huffs and turns around.

“i-” he trails off and i follow his eyesight back down to my breasts for the second time today, my nipples stiff and poking through my dress from the previous frigid air.

“Cole.” i snap my fingers, grabbing his attention as his eyes flick back up to my face.

“hmm?”

“god, if you wanna see ‘em, all you gotta do is ask,” i joke, flipping my hair over my shoulder as Cole steps forward.

“can i see them?” he asks, a wicked smirk plastered to his lips.

my lips part, my eyes wide as i blink back at him.

is he serious right now?

surely he’s joking, but i call his bluff, my thumbs slipping through the shoulder collars of my shirt and pulling them down.

i pull my arms out, the top of the dress now only covering my chest, but he continues staring at me. leveling him with a raised brow as i pull the top of my dress down.

i have every intention of just slowly teasing him, but the fabric glides too quickly, my breasts fully exposed to the chilly air now.

his eyes widen and he stumbles slightly in his hurried steps toward me. my teeth sink into my bottom lip, watching him admire my naked chest.

“you actually-” he cuts himself off with a chuckle, his hands hover in the air before them as he peers at me, “can i?”

i nod, and when his cold skin meets mine, a chill runs through me.

lightly pawing at my breasts, his thumb and pointer fingers pinch my nipples, making my back arch involuntary at the stinging touch.

“Cole.” i whimper through a quiet moan.

he steps even closer, nudging my legs open with his body, and my hands reach out, locking around the back of his neck.

“can i kiss you?” i breathe out.

“fuck yeah.”

i pull him forward, finding his lips with mine in a long overdue kiss, and what starts out slow and careful, quickly heats up into something intense and messy.

my tongue slips into his mouth, pushing and battling against his as he continues playing with my nipples, pinching and pulling, rubbing them between us.

a moan reverberates from my mouth and into his, causing him to smile into the kiss.

“you don’t understand how long i’ve been waiting for this.” he mutters, his lips brushing against mine.

“probably not as long as i have.” i tell him honestly, earning a light giggle from him.

his lips capture mine once more, but his hands divert their attention, trailing down my body and pushing my dress down as a result.

“yeah, i forgot, you have the hots for me.” he grins as i lift my hips, allowing him to pull my dress down my legs and fling it onto the counter.

i roll my eyes, wrapping my legs around his waist lightly, “shut up and take me to your room.”

“yes, ma’am.”

i’m almost frightened by the way my core dampens from his reply. i’ve never generally been a dominant person in the bedroom, but there’s something about him that makes me want to become one.

when we reach his bedroom, i unhook my legs, my front sliding down his body and rubbing against his hardened length as my feet lower to the floor.

my hands find the waistband of his sweatpants, still slightly damp from the snow, and i peer at him through my lashes. when he breathes out a lust-driven ‘yes’ in approval, i push them down, allowing him to kick them off and free his cock from the restraint. he pulls his shirt over his head in a rush, leaving him naked before me in all his glory.

tight muscles and chiseled abs make my mouth water, a sculpted v-line leading to his thick cock.

well, now i know why he has his nickname.

leaning in until my lips are nearly pressing against his ear, i whisper an unsure demand, “get on the bed.”

Cole swallows harshly, nodding as he pulls me toward his mattress. sitting on the edge, he looks up at me, awaiting approval, but i shake my head.

“in the middle.” i clarify.

he follows my orders, sitting prettily in the middle of the bed. an animalistic sensation comes over me, urging me to crawl forward on the mattress, and when i do, i hover over him.

one hand rests upon his abs, tracing the results of his stern training regime, while the other presses into the mattress, holding myself up.

i can feel him shiver underneath me as my nails graze across his torso before i find myself trailing down, wrapping my fingers around his erection and giving a small tug.

a hiss falls from his lips, his jaw clenching as his hips jerk up into my fist.

“aww, look at you.” i coo. i bring my hand up to my mouth, licking up my palm before spitting into it twice, rubbing my fingers into it to lubricate it well.

gripping his cock once again, i slowly begin flicking my wrist, pumping as i stare down at him.

shaky curses and tight grunts come from his mouth, his body writhing underneath me, and the sight is enough to make my core pulse, wetness dampening my panties.

i take the moment to trail wet kisses up his chest, starting from the top of his abdomen and leading all the way up to his collarbone.

“so good for me.” i hum, backing away to spit on his cock.

my thumb rubs over his tip, the mix of precum and saliva helping my hand pump his dick smoothly, and he groans loudly, eyes squeezing shut as his face scrunches in pleasure.

“please, y/n,” he whimpers, his voice cracking, “i’m not gonna last. i wanna be inside you.”

“yeah? you think you deserve my pussy?”

i don’t even know who i am anymore, but i find myself liking the newfound confidence that fills my body.

“yes,” he nods harshly, “yes, please!”

my hand stills, releasing him and flattening against the comforter to wipe off the spit.

“condom?” i question, and he points to his bedside drawer, watching closely as i lean over and grab one.

i open the foil packet carefully, discarding it on the nightstand and pinching the tip before slowly rolling it onto him. my motions earn another huffed out breath of pleasure from his lips.

my thumbs hook into the waistband of my panties, pushing them down and off my legs before i throw them to the floor.

crawling back over top of him, i grasp his cock in my hands one more time, rubbing it through my slick folds. it’s glides smoothly through my wetness, and my head tips back as it rubs against my clit.

“fuck, Cole.”

lining him up with my entrance, i sink down slowly, the tip of his cock penetrating my core and stretching out my walls. the stinging pleasure worsens as i sink down lower, and i begin slowly bouncing with shallow movements until it becomes easier to slide onto his erection.

his hands grip my hips tightly, fingertips digging into my skin, but i can’t bring myself to care as i finally take all of him.

“shit.” he curses through gritted teeth, voice tight.

i slowly begin grinding my hips, my clit brushing against his pelvic bone with every movement, and i cry out as i begin bouncing on top of him, his hips meeting mine with shallow thrusts upwards.

my jaw slackens, breathy moans drifting out as i work my hips up and down, listening intently to the sound of his cock sliding through my wetness as my walls draw him in with each downward motion.

“god, you’re so big.” my words are shaky, my hands clutching at his chest in order to support myself.

soon, my legs begin to tire, shaking in both pleasure and exhaustion, and Cole catches on quickly, taking over the brunt of the work as he begins to pound into me from below.

the intensity of his thrusts sends me falling forward, my tits pressing against his chest, and he takes of the position, capturing my lips with his in a heated manner.

his lips press against mine, his tongue exploring my mouth, and it’s a struggle for me not to cry out as the new angle causes the tip of his cock to graze my g-spot with every thrust.

my stomach begins tightening with slowly building pressure, my walls clenching around him with my impending orgasm.

my toes curl, and knowing i’m close, i break our kiss, snaking my hand between our bodies in order to rub my clit.

“fuck, i’m close.” he gruffs, his hips smacking against mine as his thrusts speed up.

i nod my head against him, “me too.”

my fingers circle my clit, pushing me further and further towards the edge, but before i can get there, Cole is one step ahead.

he lets out a harsh grunt, spilling out into the condom as he fucks me through his release, and the feeling of his dick pulsating inside me spurs on my own climax.

my breath hitches, toes curling as i cum around his cock, my fingers slowing down on my clit.

slumping entirely against him, my head lays against his shoulder, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath me.

“what the fuck just happened?” i pant, rolling off of him in favor of burying myself into his side.

his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me tighter to him as he chuckles.

“a goddamn christmas miracle.”

i giggle loudly, a snort escaping me and in turn making him laugh harder.

when we finally calm down, our breathing evening out and our bodies feeling somewhat more relaxed, Cole gets out of the bed, disposing of the condom in his en-suite bathroom trashcan before returning with a wet rag.

i open my legs, my hips jerking as he cleans me up, and i wait patiently as he pulls on a pair of boxers, throwing me a pair and a clean t-shirt.

i pull them on quickly, eager to cuddle more, and when he finally joins me back in the bed, my leg is quickly thrown over his hips, my arm resting on his chest as my head gets buried in his neck.

“you’re a cuddler.” he states the obvious, his hand running up and down my back as i hum in agreement.

“is that a problem?” i question, eyes fluttering shut, and i can feel him shake his head.

he pulls me in tighter, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “just an observation for the future.”

“the future?”

“oh yeah, you’re not getting rid of me now.” he tells me, but i can hear it plain as day; he’s nervous.

i heave out a deep sigh, my body melting into his before i answer, “wasn’t planning on it.”

[multifandom-worlds]

Missing in Action

Genre: angst

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Suicide, mental health struggles, grief, death (in passing), violence, bullying.

Authors Note: Hi everyone! This is going to be a bit of a heavier fic. If it's to much for you to handle, that's okay! Take care of yourself. This does have a bit of a happier ending. If I missed anything in the warnings, do let me know!

Ape - Bee

Bellissima - beautiful

Tagging: @slytherins-heir @simplyholl

The Battle of Hogwarts -- one of the bloodiest battles in the Second Wizard War, and you lived to tell the harrowing tales. You were one of the lucky ones.

 A year and a half had passed since then, the castle had been rebuilt, and the dead were laid to rest. It took a year for classes to resume, but here you were again, going through the routine again with your closest friends - Draco Malfoy, who bravely fought against his parents on the side of good, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire and Regulus Black. Although things were getting back to normal, a significant part of your group was missing. Mattheo Riddle, son of the Dark Lord himself but, more importantly, your beloved, was gone. 

Mattheo was not among the survivors at the end of the war, nor was his body found within the ruined castle rubble. The professors and Ministry of Magic alike scoured the school grounds in search of anything, but nothing could be seen of him. The mystery of his disappearance deepened, with rumours of what happened to him beginning to spread. One thing all the rumours had in common was painting Mattheo as a hero - the prodigal son of the Dark Lord, standing up against him, holding off the death eaters while many students fled. He was one of the many unsung heroes of the war, his fate uncertain.

As the months progressed and nobody ever found any trace of Mattheo, the hope of his survival began to drop. First, it was the Ministry. A few months later, the professors gave up hope that he was alive. Just recently, Theo had finally given up hope that he was still alive. You heard him talking in the Great Hall about it.

“What do you lot think? Is he actually coming back?” Theo asks, his voice calm. It was not quite a whisper, but it was not his total volume. “Do you believe Matt was actually able to survive the war? Survive all the shit he endured? Are we just kidding ourselves and holding onto false hope?”

Draco shook his head, looking around for you, hoping you weren’t in earshot. “There’s no way. He could not possibly have survived. I heard that on the second anniversary, they’re going to add his name to the In Memory speech. It seems as though everyone has accepted it now, except her.”

“I’ll tell her,” Theo says dejectedly. He didn’t want to break your heart even more. “It’s best it comes from me. I don’t want her to get blindsided by the news when it happens; she already has nightmares every night about the war. Like the rest of us, she carries those scars, mental and physical. She won’t like it.” he trails off with a deep sigh, placing his head in his hands, mentally psyching himself up to go have this conversation yet again. 

He leaves the Great Hall in the direction of the Slytherin dorms. It wasn’t hard to know where you would be - you spent all your time in his bed, wearing his clothes and, in Theo’s mind, prolonging your hurt.

“You’re wrong, Theo!” You whimper, staring at your boyfriend's best friend standing at the door to his and Mattheo’s dorm. “He can’t be gone! There’s no way he's gone! We killed his father! You were the one who cast the curse!”

He opens the door of the dorm, seeing you sitting on his bed, reading your book, his pillow between your arms. “Hey, we have to talk.” He says, leaning against the doorframe. “They want to add his name to the list of students who died. I think it's time, Bellissima. I think you need to let him go. He died protecting the school, its students and you.”

Theo sighs, running his fingers through his curls. “Ape, he’s gone. There are so many places his body could be that would have been hidden. Yes, we killed his father, but that does not mean he didn’t have a hand in his death. I miss him, too. I miss him like you wouldn’t believe it, but you need to accept that he’s gone. He would want you to move on, apa.”

Your tears began to slide down your cheeks as Theo carefully sat beside you, wrapping his arms around you protectively. It didn’t take long for your whimpers to turn into full sobs as you hid your face against his chest. Words can not describe how terrible Theo felt at that moment, holding you once again as you sobbed into his chest. He wanted you to move on, to move on from all the pain and memories that place had, but until Mattheos body was recovered, he knew it was impossible. He held you as you cried, resting his chin on the top of your head, just as he has done almost nightly since the battle ended. 

Theo pulls you away from him once all your tears dried up.  “Please come for dinner, ape. The others are asking about you, and I want you to eat something, please.” He brushes your hair from your face, looking at you earnestly.

You nod softly, wiping your eyes. “O-okay. I do miss Reggie and Ferret Boy.” you chuckle at the nickname. Draco absolutely hated it, but he begrudgingly accepted it from you. “And obviously Enzo.”

Theo stands up first, taking your hand and carefully helping you to your feet, his hands on your shoulders to keep you balanced. Once you finished mentally preparing yourself, you take his arm, leave the dorm, and make your way upstairs to the Great Hall. You keep your eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Theo keeps you close; his imposing height and proclivity for fighting keep everyone away from the two of you. 

“There she is.” You could hear Draco say as you and Theo step into the Great Hall. Tentatively, you look up, meeting the eyes of your favourite ferret. He smiles, waving you over. You and Theo make your way to the Slytherin table before joining your friends. “You look good, Bee,” Draco says once you’re sitting between him and Lorenzo. 

“Fuck yeah, you do,” Enzo says next, pulling you into a side hug, and Theo rounds the table and sits across from you, beside Regulus. “I missed having my favourite Slytherin around. It’s not the same without you.”

“You see me in class every day, Enz…” You mutter, looking at him. You had no idea why they missed you because you still went to all your classes with them. “I’m still around; I don’t know what you mean?”

“I just mean...” Lorenzo begins, but a second voice interrupts him. You look up and see Cormac McLaggen standing just behind Regulus and Theo, a stupid, cocky smile plastered on his face. 

“He means your depressed ass isn’t worth being around,” Cormac says, his friends laughing at the face you were making, your eyes welling up with tears. “Fuckin’ crybaby. If you miss that cunt so much, why not join him? Just do it in front of me so I can enjoy you.” 

Within seconds of the last sound leaving Cormac’s mouth, Theo was on his feet, colliding his fist into Cormac’s nose, sending him sprawling against the empty table behind him. Before anyone realized what had happened, Theo was on him, landing punch after punch into his face. 

Regulus joins in, the two of them taking turns being Cormac’s face until he is 50 shades of black and blue. His nose bent at a noticeable angle, his eyes were actively swelling and already turning black, and his cheek caved in. Several of his fingers bent out of shape, and he most certainly had several broken ribs. He lays motionless on the table, barely conscious as Madame Pomfry and McGonagall come rushing over.

“Mr. Nott, Mr. Black, what is the meaning of this!?” McGonagall demands, looking between Cormac and the two Slytherins. 

Theo looks up at her, his lips pulled into a tight line, his whole body tense. “He called Mattheo a cunt, called his girlfriend a crybaby and told her to kill herself in front of him so he could fuck her dead body.” He stated matter of factly. He knew he was justified in his merciless beating. 

“And I meant every fucking word. She’s a depressed bitch who needs to join her” beloved” if she missed him that much” Theo, Regulus and McGonagall could hear Cormac's strained laughter after he finished speaking. 

Theo grabs him by his collars, hauling him up so their faces are inches apart. “If I hear you say anything about her or Mattheo, I will cut out your tongue with a pair of rusty scissors and watch you bleed to death. Got that, Cormac?” Theo drops him back on the table, spitting in his face before turning around and seeing you hiding your face against Draco’s jacket. 

“Detention for you both! And 50 points from Slytherin. Each.” McGonagall states, looking between Theo and Regulus before turning her attention to you. “As for you, dear. This really is not good for you; you need to accept that Mr. Riddle is no longer with us. You need to move on and focus on your academics.” 

“Excuse me…” you mutter, pushing away from Draco and running out of the Great Hall. You blink away tears as you navigate through the school. You didn’t know where you were going; you just needed to know you had to get away. Away from everyone who believed he was dead, away from everyone who told you to move on. Away from it all. 

You found yourself at the top of the Astronomy tower, looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. You sigh, remembering all the blood and carnage that decorated the grounds years before. You look over at the Forbidden Forest, the last place you saw Mattheo alive. He saved you from a death eater’s imperious curse by casting his very own Unforgivable curse - Avada Kadavra. You didn’t even have a chance to thank him before he was snatched up and dragged away by Fenrir Greyback. The last thing you heard from him was him yelling that he loved you and that he would find you again, in this life or the next. 

You could hear a commotion below you on the grounds, but you paid it no mind. You were tired, tired of everyone telling you he was dead, tired of everyone bringing it up, tired of looking at your body in the mirror and seeing all the scars from that cursed battle on your skin, forced to relive it day after day. The PTSD was too much for you to handle, so you decided to jump, to end everything once and for all. You knew Theo and Regulus would be in detention; Draco and Enzo were probably tormenting them, so there was no one to stop you. 

You pull your robes off, folding them neatly on the ground before grabbing your phone and writing a quick note, an explanation of why you did it. You carefully place your phone on top of your robes before stepping back up to the railing, intending to throw yourself off it when your phone rings. You picked it up again, only to see Theo’s name pop up. Odd, he should be in detention right now; you decide to answer it, acutely aware it could be one of Cormac’s minions ready to continue what he started. 

“Hello…?” You answer timidly, walking back to the railing. The commotion happening below you was getting louder. Clearly, you were about to have an audience.

“Don't do it, my love. I need you!” The voice on the phone sounded too much like Mattheo, but you knew it couldn't be. He was dead; everyone believed it, and you were going to be next.

“Who are you, and why do you have Theo’s phone? He’s in detention right now.” You say, anger beginning to surge to the surface. 

“You know who I am, love. Please, please don’t. Don’t listen to Cormac, he’s a scumbag. I need you; Theo and Reggie need you. Draco and Enzo need you to. We all need you. Please, my love, don’t do it.”

Your hand grips your phone, trembling. “I'm going to do it. Cormac was right. I'm going to jump and put an end to everyone's misery.”

The voice began talking again, sounding frantic. “Please, baby. Please don't jump. I can't bear to watch my only light extinguish herself. Please, Theo's on his way to get you, but please, please step away from the railing.”

“I don't know who I'm talking to, but it's not Mattheo. I don't believe you! You're just made up, a figment of my imagination. You're not real! He’s dead, and everyone believes it! But I'm going to be joining him soon!” You step forward, swinging one leg over the railing, tears streaming down your face. 

“Mon Coeur, please….” 

You swing your other leg over the railing, looking down at the dizzying height, ready to let go, when a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you back to safety. 

“No! Let me go! I want to do it! I want to end it all! Please just let me join him!” You cry, fighting with whoever it was that grabbed you. 

The arms wrap tighter around you before a familiar Italian accent hits your ears. “Ape, he's alive. You were right. He's at the bottom of the stairs. Come down, come with me, and we can see him together.” 

“You're wrong, Theo! You told me he's dead! You and everyone else kept telling me he was dead and I needed to move on. Why are you tormenting me like this? Why are you doing this? Please just let me die.” You sob, fighting against Theo’s grip. 

Theo rests his chin on your head. “If you're not going to walk down these steps, I'm going to carry you down, but we are going,” he says, very matter-of-factly. You give up, knowing Theo is serious. He notices the call is still connected, so he grabs the phone from your hand and puts it to his ear. “I have her; she’s safe in my arms. We're on your way down, Matt.” 

“Oh, thank Merlin. Okay, I'll see you two soon.” Mattheo says a wave of relief washing over him. He was so thankful she believed he was still alive. If only he had gotten to you sooner, maybe you wouldn't have fallen this far into the darkness. All that mattered was he was about to see you again for the first time since the battle.

You and Theo slowly begin to descend the stairs; he has his arm wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you stable since your anxious trembling makes each stair dangerous. The closer to the bottom you got, the more your heart pounded in your chest. Theo wouldn’t lie…right? He wouldn’t pretend Mattheo was alive and the voice on the phone sounded so much like him, but it couldn’t possibly be him. You knew what Greyback was capable of; there’s no way Mattheo survived that.

You and Theo arrive at the bottom of the stairs, and there, standing right in front of you, is Mattheo - an older, more scarred and more traumatized version of Mattheo, but it is still Mattheo, your Mattheo.

You let go of Theo, nervously walking towards him. “Matty…?” You ask, gently touching his cheek. He cups your hand with his, leaning into your touch, his eyes meeting yours. You knew those soulful brown eyes anywhere; this is your Mattheo.

He smiles, taking your hand and kissing your palm, just as he always did before. “In the flesh, Mon Coeur. I missed you so much. I dreamt about you every night when I wasn’t plagued with nightmares. I was so scared you had either died or moved on, and I would never have you in my arms again, never wake up with your perfect face, never listen to you talk about everything you loved. Draco told me you never gave up hope, even when everyone else did. Thank you, baby. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“But how…?” you question, meeting his eyes, pleading with him. “How are you still alive? E-everyone believed you died…I saw you! I saw Greyback take you! A-are you really him?” You ask, step away, your suspicions growing. This has to be some sort of prank.

Mattheo’s face fell, his smile replaced by a heartbroken frown. “I promise, I am who I say I am. What can I do to make you believe me, amour?” 

You look at him, wanting so desperately to believe. “How did you survive? Where were we, and what was the last thing you said to me?”

“We were in the forbidden forest; I told you I love you, and I would find you in this world or the next.” He smiles, seeing the doubt melt away from your eyes. “And as for how I survived. My brother. Tom.”

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

silver springs - d. wagner

a/n: hi. welcome back. remember the to do list i had? out the window. danny wagner kiss me on the lips challenge. enjoy, yearning sluts. warnings: horny, danny practices writing kissing and grumpy ish reader, right person wrong time, sort of slow burn? idk, death of a sibling, grief, angst, cursing, reader smokes until the end of the fic, reader has tattoos as usual, lots of sex refrences as usual, corny shit as usual. word count: 3.9k (throwing up) summary: the three times daniel wants you, and the one time he gets you. paring: daniel wagner x gn!reader now playing: silver springs - fleetwood mac "i follow you down/till the sound of my voice will haunt you/you'll never get away from the sound/of the woman that loves you."

It all starts when you’re eighteen, fresh off a breakup with a guy who cheated on you. You found him sleeping with a girl from your psych class after you introduced him to at a party. In hindsight, he wasn’t a loss or anything, but you were eighteen. You were stupid and in love and he was all that mattered to you.

After three months of moping around and being miserable because of him, your friend, Veronica, eventually convinced you to get over yourself and go out with her.

You obliged. It was three quarters of the way through your sophomore year and were determined to not let some guy who couldn’t even make you cum ruin your college experience.

And what was this wild experience your friend wanted to do to get you out of your funk?

Well, she decided it would be a concert. A rock concert.

You had heard of Greta Van Fleet a few times—Veronica was straight up obsessed with them. You mostly listened to music your ex-boyfriend listened to, and never really formed an opinion of your own on the matter. You had other stuff to do, you would defend.

At this point in their career, Greta Van Fleet was only just starting; They were playing a small venue nearby, as an opener.

Veronica convinced you to go super early and get a good view with her. What else were you supposed to do on a Saturday? Your homework?

And even you had to admit, they were pretty good. You enjoyed the passion they had for their shows, and they were all pretty good looking.

The drummer especially.

Veronica decided to stick around after their set, grabbing a drink with some guy she had met, while you went outside to smoke.

Smoking was a horrible habit you had picked up, and you fully intended to quit, it just never struck you as the right time. It was a late spring night, the air muggy and buzzing with the lights of the city. You had been going to school in New York for a little less than a year, and you loved every second of it. Sure, you missed your family, who you had left behind in Nashville, especially your sister, but you knew you needed to leave. Even for just a while.

“Can I borrow your lighter?” A voice asks. You whip your head only to see the drummer. What was his name again?

“Yeah, sure.” You take out your lighter and flick it on, letting him light his cigarette with it.

“Thanks.” There’s a silence that fills the air while you smoke, until he eventually extends a hand. “I’m Danny.”

You smile, shaking his hand and giving him your name before adding, “And I know who you are.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, you’re the drummer.” You say coolly, although your heart is racing.

“You like our music?”

“Now I do. Tonight, was your first show of mine.” You explain, “My friend is like,” You cough on smoke, “Obsessed with you.”

Feeling bold, Danny asks, “What if I want you to be obsessed with me?” And it makes you scoff, only you’re only doing it because you’re nervous.

“You flirt with all your fans like this, Drummer?”

“Only the pretty ones.” You just smirk. You don’t expect the next words out of his mouth to be, “Come with me to California.”

“What?” You laugh, unable to believe it.

“California. We’re releasing an album later this year, so you should see more of our shows before we become a huge hit.”

“I can’t go to California with you!” You grin, and by the way he’s smiling at you, you know he’s not expecting you to.

“Why not?”

“I have classes, for one!”

“Classes? So pretty and smart?”

“Oh my god, Shut up.”

“What are you majoring in?”

“English. I want to write. Whatever they’ll have me write, articles, books, what the fuck ever, you know what I mean?”

And he does. He gets it because that’s the way he feels about writing music.

“I get it.” He answers.

“So, I can’t come with you to California.”

“No, I guess not. But when you get a job writing, you’ll let me come find you? Ghostwrite my memoir, write a scathing review of us, what the fuck ever, as you so delicately put it?”

“Deal.” You agree.

“Then, I’ll see you, Sugar.” You stop at the name, turning to him. “What?” He asks.

“That’s what my family calls me.” He laughs. “I’m being serious!” You argue.

“No, you’re not—” He realizes you most definitely are. “Why would they call you that?”

“Because my sister is the nice one, and I am an asshole.”

“No fucking way.”

“What, did ‘What the fuck ever’ not give you enough of a hint? She’s Spice, and I’m Sugar, only Sugar stuck.” You say, finishing your cigarette.

“Well, Sugar. At least let me give you my number if I can’t take you to California.”

“Deal.” You agree, but before he can, his friends from the band are calling him, and you know Veronica must be wondering where you are. And he doesn’t have his phone on him or a pen, and your phone is dead.

Fuck.

“Hey—” He pulls you close with one arm, his other hand still with a cigarette. He puts it in his mouth so his hand can reach down and pull your lighter out of your pocket. “I’ll give this back when we meet again, alright?” He asks, his words a little murmured because of the cigarette.

You’re usually cynical. You could’ve told him to fuck off and took the lighter back. But you don’t.

Instead, you kiss his jaw and mutter, “Okay. Later, Drummer.” He pockets the lighter, and starts walking back to his friends, only backwards to face you still.

“See you soon, Sugar!” He calls.

It’s only when you get back to Veronica that your brain clears enough to remember that your full name is on the lighter. You hope he’ll use it to come find you.

• • •

So, the next few years fly by and before you know it, you’ve been out of school for around a year now, and you’re happier than ever. You’re staying in Tennessee, staying with your sister and your niece. You’re apartment hunting, starting a new job as soon as the New Year comes, but you have ulterior motives.

You’re getting ready in her bathroom as she leans against the door frame, watching you. Your niece sits on the edge of the tub. She just turned six and is learning all about the world. You love watching her grow, except for one teensy little thing—

“Why does Sugar get to go see Greta and I don’t?” She asks your sister.

“Because Sugar has big kid money, and you spend your allowance on Barbie.” Your niece just huffs. You grin as you finish fixing your hair. You crouch down to her level, and push hair from her face.

“How ‘bout this? I’ll take lots of photos for you, and get you a shirt, and I’ll take you on their next tour, okay?”          

She considers this for a moment.

“And you’ll say hi to Jake for me?” While you are in Danny Lane, Duh, she is strictly obsessed with Jake Kiszka.

“Of course, I will! Duh! He’s gonna love a message from his best girl.” You say it as if it’s obvious. She giggles and stands, giving you a quick hug before you have to leave.

“You’re so good with her. And nice too, I never expected that.” Your sister says as she walks you to the door.

“Don’t expect me to go soft with you, too. She’s the exception.” Your sister just smiles as she stands in the door, watching you walk down the walkway.

“Be safe!” She calls.

“Bye, Mom!” You say dramatically as you get in her car to drive to the venue with.

The show is amazing, as usual. Since their career has taken off, you’re only a more active fan, always keeping tabs.

You keep tabs to see if Danny is taking anyone. He does. You don’t know if that’s true for right now, but you know he has since you saw him. So have you. It’s ridiculous to assume you’d stop your lives for one flirty encounter when you were 18.

After the show, you notice people grouped around, waiting to see if the boys make an appearance. You don’t have anywhere to be. You stick around.

An hour or two passes. You smoke, lending cigarettes to other people waiting, and the number of folks start to dwindle down. But the summer is coming to an end, and you know that this might be one of the last times you can stay out this late without freezing for a while.

And wouldn’t you know it, Sam and Danny come out to say hi. And Sam is lovely, of course he is! He’s sweet and funny, and even more handsome in person.

But Danny makes your heart race. You grin to him, and it takes him a second before he breaks out in a grin, as he approaches you. Before you can say anything he just hugs you, and holds you for a while. He pulls away and looks at you, uttering your full name, as it was written on your lighter.

“Danny...” you say softly, and he just keeps smiling at you. His curls look healthier. He looks healthier.

“Hi, Sugar.” He says gently.

“You remembered that stupid nickname, Oh God...” you groan.

“And you still hate it.”

“Mm... maybe not so much when you say it. Maybe not when my niece says it.”  Because it stuck so well, your niece just grew up knowing your name as Sugar, and not much else.

“Your niece?”

“Stevie, she’s an angel, and in love with Jake Kiszka.” You admit.

“I’ll extend the message. Stevie, is that a reference to the true queen of breakup songs?”

“Yes, of course.” You assure. You can’t stop staring at him. His eyes wander down to your arm, to your wrist.

“Cool tattoo.” It’s a lighter. It’s corny, you know that. And part of you didn’t even get it because of him. Half of you just thought it would be cool. But there was a part that hoped he’d see it one day.

“Well, some asshole took my last lighter and hasn’t given it back, so I figured no one can steal this one.” He laughs and shakes his head.

“You’re funny, Sugar.”

“Well...” You shrug softly, “You can keep the lighter by the way.” You assured. “No hard feelings.” He grins, pulling it out of his pocket and waving it at you.

“Thanks. And hey, maybe I could give you something of mine, too?” This confuses you until he pulls off the necklace he’s wearing and drops it in your hands. You look down at it, and your face flushes. It’s a long leather cord, with a milky stone shaped like a moon.

“Does this mean I won’t be getting your number tonight?” You ask, as your hand closes over the necklace. He smiles at you and shakes his head.

“It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I’m going to be on tour for a while, and you live in New York—”

“I’m moving to Tennessee. Nashville. For work.” You assure. He smiles wider.

“Then when I get back. I’ll come find you.” He speaks. “Are you in the writing business yet?”

“Getting there.” You tell him.

“Then I’ll find you in the future.” He assures, as Sammy calls his name back at the door where he came from. How come it always ends this way? How come you always have to say goodbye to him? Especially when he looks this good? Your heart aches for him already. You want him to kiss you. But instead, you lean up and kiss his jaw, and he smiles down at you when you pull away.

“See you soon, Sugar.” He says gently. It’s quieter this time. You know he means it. He pulls away, and takes one last long look at you, and turns just before you can see tears in his eyes, and just before he can see tears in yours.

• • •

The rest of the year flies, and your new job starts, about twenty minutes from where you live, and only fifteen from your sister and niece. You get a raise three months in, and it’s just in time for you to buy your niece tickets to the Starcatcher World Tour. You’ll be the first show of a long tour, and you know you can’t stay like you did last time. Besides, he won’t come out to see the fans, not after such a long night.

You bring something for him just in case.

But your niece and you have a great time, despite this being your first show without being in the pit. You have first row lower bowl seats.

Ticketmaster is your sworn enemy, and you’ve won every battle with them lately. Fuck ‘em.

Because it’s the first show of the tour, everything is new, and you don’t know what to expect. You especially don’t expect a ten-minute drum solo from Danny.

…It makes you want him desperately.

When they move to the B stage, you’re still a little caught up in him, but that is nothing compared to when they exit the B stage and start handing out flowers. Danny doesn’t really have any flowers, but Jake is walking right in front of him, and right towards you.

Your niece freaks the fuck out. Because she is a Jake girl, and Jake is right there. He sees her small hands and grins, handing her a rose, and clasping her hand with his for a moment before continuing his walk. You’re so caught up in this moment that you don’t register that Danny is quickly approaching.

And then you do, and you’re one of the many calling out to him, as he smiles and clasps his hands with theirs.

Instead of Danny, you call, “Hey, Drummer!” and somehow, during all this chaos, he sees you. And he’s grinning like an idiot.

He stops for a second, pulling you forward, and before you know it, he’s taking about twenty seconds to kiss you.

It’s deep, passionate, and full of the raw need that you’ve felt since seeing his drum solo. Everyone around you is freaking out as you slip what you bought to give him into his hand.

He must leave though, and he slips what you’ve given him in his pocket, pulling away, and whispering quickly,

“See you soon, Sugar.” He leaves, and you’re left to the screaming fans around you, including your niece, who can’t believe anything that just happened.

The show goes on, and there’s a new energy about Danny.

Everyone on twitter goes wild about your interaction.

When he gets off stage that night, he pulls out what you gave him from his pocket, and sees it’s a polaroid picture of you, in your bathing suit and sunglasses, on the beach.

He uses it to get through rough nights on tour.

• • •

The next year or so goes by in a whirlwind—In the worst way possible. Work is going well, you don’t date anymore, delusional about your Drummer, and for a while, everything is fine.

Until your sister slides off the road during a snowstorm and is killed on impact.

You go from taking care of Stevie when your sister needed a break, to being her legal guardian.

It is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. You balance your work life with your grief, newfound parental duties, and helping Stevie through the loss of her mother. Her father was never in her life, and you find yourself moving into your sister’s house, so Stevie doesn’t have to move schools.

You watch her attempt to process this huge loss at eight years old. She doesn’t listen to music anymore; she doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday and she doesn’t want to sleep without a nightlight.

You hold her while she cries for her mom.

You hold your mom while she cries for her daughter.

No one holds you as you sob, longing for your sister.

You will yourself to be good. To be nice and not let the grief suffocate you, you need to be there for your best girl, she cannot do this without you. But it’s so hard. You’re angry with the world, with yourself, with her, why couldn’t she have just stayed the night at her friends? You will yourself to channel that stupid nickname. You will yourself to be good.

The winter is hard, but as the season thaws, so does your grief. It’s still hard, but the kitchen fills again with the smell of pizza and baked goods, with the sound of Foo Fighters and Guns N Roses, and with your niece’s laughter.

You talk about your sister openly, never hiding your own grief from Stevie, and never being afraid to tell her stories of her mom.

You get a tattoo on what would have been your sister’s birthday. It’s just her birth flower.

Under it, in her handwriting, is “Sugar and Spice.” It’s right beneath your lighter tattoo. It’s the only time you’ve ever cried getting a tattoo.

Summer comes, and your office has no A.C. It’s a critically hot day in Nashville, Stevie is being watched by your mom. You’re editing a new chapter from a high-end client, just finishing it up before you head home for the day. Really, your day ended ten minutes ago, but you’re still working. Until you get a call from your office’s front lobby.

When you answer it, it’s just Jane, the security guard.

“Hey, Jane, what can I do for you?” You ask, rubbing your eyes from finally unfocusing from your computer screen.

“Hey, Kid. Just wanted to see if you were okay with company. Pretty boy says he’s here to see you.” You furrow your brows. Pretty boy? There have been no pretty boys in your life recently.

“What’s his name?” You ask quizzically. You hearJane asking for a name.

“Says his names Danny, and—” You stand, making sure your draft is saved before you turn off your computer, grabbing your things, and remembering she’s waiting for a response.

“Uh—Tell him I’ll be right there!” You say quickly before hanging up, then dash to the elevator, wishing it to go faster. It takes forever.

When the doors open, he stands in front of you, as if he was waiting to take the next elevator up. You just grin and lunge, hugging him tightly. He returns the sentiment. You hold each other there, just embracing each other and taking the other in. You pull away to really look at him.

You haven’t been active on social media since you took guardianship of Stevie, too busy. So, you haven’t seen him in a while. He looks phenomenal. His hair is shorter, but he wears two gold hoop earrings, a grey muscle tee, and has the same smile. His hair has this slight highlight to it, and his skin is tanner, his freckles enunciated.

You want to kiss him.

But you stand back from him for a moment to turn to Jane and thank her, and then you pull him outside, onto the busy streets. You walk for a few minutes in silence, turning here and there. You eventually lead him to duck into a quiet, relatively clean alley way. It’s in a quieter part of town, and you lean against one wall, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your shirt, heart racing in anticipation. He leans against the wall, looking at you.

He can see the leather cord around your neck. It pushes him over the edge.

Suddenly, his hands are on your cheeks as he begins kissing you. His lips are just as soft as you remember, but his hands are rough. They must be calloused, even blistered from guitar and drums. You deepen the kiss. It’s heavy, and hot, much like the day around you.

It makes you want him more.

You pull him closer, by grabbing his shirt and pulling him against you. He tilts his head for better access, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’ve wanted this for years. Your hands leave his shirt, trailing up to tangle in those locks of his.

You finally pull away when you can’t stand to be without air anymore. But as soon as you do, you find yourself kissing him again. Not as deeply this time, but with just as much need. You kiss him again and again, your skin burning.

When he pulls away for real, panting, he leans his head on the wall behind you, his hot breath on your collar bone.

“Found me, Drummer…”

“Found you, Sugar…” He says softly.

“How? Why?” He pulls back to look at your face.

“How? You’re on your company’s website. Why? What do you mean why? Why? Because for the past six fucking years, I have only had enough of you to keep me wanting you, and every time I’m able to stop dreaming about you and your perfect lips, I am pulled back in by fate, seeing you always. And when I kissed you last year... It snapped something in me. You ruined everyone else for me, and I still had to wait. I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m not on tour, I’m here for a long time. I need you...” He says your name gently when he realizes you have this terrified look on your face.

“I… I can’t just… Danny, I’m my niece’s legal guardian. I will always have an obligation to her first, I can’t run off with you… Can’t go with you to California...” You tell him weakly.

“That’s okay.” In truth, Danny always wanted kids, and sure, he wasn’t planning on a kid just now, but he’s sure you can make this work. “When did this happen?”

“January… When my sister died.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it cracks with emotion. He just kisses you quickly and holds you.

“I still need you. I’d love to meet your niece.” He says once you’ve pulled away. You grin.

“She’s a big fan of yours.”

“More of a Jake girl, I hear.” He smirks. It makes you laugh.

You straighten yourself out, ready to take him to your house, have him meet Stevie, and just jump into it. Fuck it. What have you got to lose after waiting for him for six years?

Before you can make it out of the alley, he grabs your hand and says your name again. He takes out his—your lighter, and places it in your hand. You gave up smoking the night your sister died.

“I don’t need it right now, sugar. I told you, when I saw you again, it would be yours. And now we don’t have to say goodbye in two minutes.” It’s enough to make you lean forward and kiss him again.

You take his hand and begin walking with him. There’s no need to long for him anymore.

[philtstone]

Touch prompts: “feeling their pulse” for Shawn and Gus

so like .... i compromised my most staunchly held principle (there is objectively way too much of this kind of fic in the psych tag and i refuse to contribute MORE) to write this. alas; it would not let me go not sure how i feel about it as a standalone - i think it belongs in a larger fic, tbh, but im trying to be responsible and post these as prompts instead of spending weeks on a real story. i'll probably expand on it (and situate it in a generally more fun story) eventually. warnings for cursory description of blood, throw up and a broken arm & set during the events of 4x09, aka shawn takes a shot in the dark

In Gus’s memory, the Tuesday before Junior Prom is marked by the dead frogs in biology class and the most disgustingly broken bone the world ever had the displeasure of witnessing. 

“Mr. Spencer!” he had shrieked, operating on pure and unadulterated survival instinct.

They were fifteen and stupid – the way being angry at your parents makes you stupid, or being scared of how much you want to see Destiny B from first period art naked makes you stupid. When Gus yelled, feeling cold all over despite the hot after-school May sun, a weird hoarse twist he wasn’t used to tightened his throat. It overrode his gag reflex, thankfully, but unfortunately also made him sound like a panicking girl. Shawn didn’t say anything. They had a system. If Gus couldn’t look at Shawn’s broken ulna without throwing up, then he also couldn’t see the tears leaking out of Shawn’s eyes as he pressed his face against the scraggly front lawn and groaned in a horrible not-normal version of his recently-cracking teenaged boy voice. 

Plausible deniability for both of them.

“Fuck,” Shawn managed between sobs. Gus’s mom would have killed them both if she ever heard that word. “Gus, Gus it really hurts –”

“Don’t,” said Gus. He couldn’t look. This was so much worse than that time Shawn got a nosebleed in gym class it got all over his grinning teeth. He wasn’t grinning this time. He was shaking, like a leaf. Like one of those leaves from the plant unit in biology class, and oh, God – the frog. “Don’t, don’t, don’t.”

“Make it stop!”

Gus couldn’t. It was horrible. He’d told Destiny two weeks prior that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up and he couldn’t even look at his best friend’s broken arm. He wasn’t panicking, not in the way Joy used to tease him for when they were kids (not grown-up fifteen year olds) and he’d get nervous around the water slides at Six Flags, but in this memory Gus felt scared in a new way that was somehow worse than water slides. “I told you that branch w-wouldn’t – I told you it wouldn’t hold, Shawn!” He shouldn’t have been yelling; it made him feel better anyway. “Why wouldn’t you just listen to me for once –”

The front door slammed open and shut and heavy footsteps rushed toward them. The broken arm probably hurt a lot, because Shawn wasn’t even mad at Gus for summoning his dad. Gus kept on shouting at his own shoes. To this day he has pretty much no idea what he was actually saying. The act of berating on its own was therapeutic.

Therapeutic had been one of the words he’d spelled right in the spelling bee.

“Shawn!” 

In the memory, Mr. Spencer’s voice invades their bubble like a popping bb gun and a big bucket of cool water in summertime all at once. The broken arm was not actually his fault, but Shawn had climbed the tree because he was fifteen and angry and Gus had hung back on the ground because he was fifteen and thinking about Destiny’s long swinging braids. Somehow both of these things connected back to the general presence of Henry, weeks away from divorce, hanging over their heads. He’d been the one who grounded Shawn two days prior for skipping second period for the millionth time, and Gus wasn’t sure he wanted to go to Junior Prom (where Destiny would be, slow dancing with Micheal H for sure) alone. 

“Shawn – ah, Jesus. Gus. Gus, come on, calm down, kid.” Two firm hands grabbed Gus by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, and his tirade died in his throat. He was kind of shaking, too, but there was a sharp edge of fear to Henry’s voice that came out sounding almost angry and somehow made Gus feel better. “You’re okay, alright? You’re okay. He’s okay. This isn’t your fault. Go inside and get my car keys.”

Gus can’t really remember whether he made it to the bathroom before spilling his guts. He figures it’s kind of an immaterial detail, nineteen years later.

“Gus,” Shawn mumbles. “Gus, I got blood on you.” 

“Shut up, Shawn,” Gus says.

Shawn isn’t dead, which is pretty obvious to everyone now. Gus has been convinced of it for the last twenty-four hours. If Shawn was dead, Gus would’ve felt it. This is a conclusion he came to at around eleven a.m Pacific Standard Time, still in his pajamas and halfway through one of the gross protein bars Juliet keeps in her purse to keep his brain functioning on something one tier above pure fear. He used to wonder about it in college – whether Shawn was lying in a ditch somewhere without him. The idea would float through his head on random days when he was in crisis about stupid stuff like his upcoming Chem 102 final and prone to catastrophizing, and he’d think miserably that Shawn was probably on a sunny beach surrounded by beautiful women and Dolph Lundgren, momentarily freak because dude, what if he’s in Northern Guatemala and dead, and hasn’t even said anything? That would be just like Shawn, and then, finally, he’d eat a Kit-Kat and go for a walk around campus and finish his study notes and everything would be fine. A week later he’d get a postcard, like Shawn had somehow read his mind all the way from Bardstown, Kentucky, and pretend he didn’t miss his friend someplace deep in his ever-feeling stomach.

This morning he became convinced. He’d know. That has to be how it works. Nothing else makes sense, and Gus is a person who likes to believe in the reasonable and rational when he can.

Yeah, says Shawn’s regular, not-mumbly voice in his head. Like mummies and curses and ghosts. Absolutely the most sensible person I know, buddy, bar none. 

Shawn’s real voice is slurring something unintelligible and sounding a lot less coherent than he did fifteen minutes ago when jumped onto the hood of a moving vehicle. Like an action movie star. Gus can’t even bring himself to be pumped about how cool that was, theoretically, because –

“EMTs are on their way.”

“Well can’t they get here faster?”

“I’m not a goddamn teleportation service! Guster, get his head up –”

“His head is fine, will you just –”

“Stop jostling him!”

“He’s my son, Lassiter, don’t fucking tell me what to do – Shawn – Shawn –” 

After the adrenaline wore off and Shawn’s legs turned to jello, getting him to sit up against the car was kind of hard. He is, as a result, currently lying on the ground with his head in Gus’s lap, manfully, while they wait. Juliet took care of locking the bad guy in the other car and has sort of shut down, emotionally speaking – her sweet face is the color of chalk and her eyes are like saucers and she keeps answering her radio so fast her hands blur – and Lassiter’s trying (ungainingly, now that the shooting is over) to take charge to make himself feel better.

Henry’s the only one who seems capable of being practical. Gus knows this version of him well.  

“Gus … you hate blood. 'Cept when you're tellin' me to lick it.”

Shawn again, being unhelpful. As always. Gus is too relieved to gag. Maybe later. 

“At this juncture I am neutral about blood,” Gus tells him, in his best Professional Pharmaceutical Salesman Voice. Shawn grins crookedly up at him. He’s like, half passed out already, and the only thing keeping Gus sane is the steady beat of his pulse in his neck, where it presses hot and sweaty against Gus’s hand. Hot and sweaty makes him think of their junior prom. That was gross, though Gus supposes he didn’t mind at the time. They barely made it to the thing anyway. Shawn milked his stupid cast like his life depended on it and Destiny, who was big into art, sat at their table instead of dancing with Michael H so she could doodle on it with the Sharpies she carried in her frilly clutch. She and Gus spent almost the whole night talking. She was like, his second ever kiss.

Back to the present. Through the power of Henry Spencer’s eyebrows Lassie’s been successfully banished – warded off, whatever – and Gus briefly wonders if he should be a bad friend (to Juliet) and ask that she come over and hold Shawn’s hand or something. Then Henry locks eyes with him and he realizes suddenly and inescapably that no, actually, Shawn will not want her to be here for this.

“Shawn,” Henry says.

“Hi, Dad,” Shawn manages. He’s still grinning, but his face is pale. Pasty. Shawn’s kind of tan as far as white guys go (Gus remembers Joy declaring this once, the way she always liked to declare things, when they were eight and she was twelve) so the gray tinge to his cheeks doesn’t become him. "Unhg… this’sucks. Kinda … numb tho’. I think ‘s getting better.” 

It’s not really getting better. Gus looks at the dirty, slick duct tape matted into Shawn’s tattered shirt and feels his ears ringing. This is one of top ten most unforgivable pranks Shawn has pulled on him in their lifetime, without a doubt.

“Kid, I’m so sorry. I have to stop the bleeding.”

“S’still bleedin’?”

It is. Gus’s leg is damp. Probably sticky. Every molecule in his body is trying not to think about it. 

“Gus, brace his shoulder.”

“Yes sir.”

Shawn’s mind registers what’s about to happen a second before Henry presses down; Gus can see it all click in his drooping eyes, which widen. The noise that comes out of his mouth is sudden and horrible. Worse than God’s most disgusting broken bone. Gus doesn’t move, but his stomach lurches, and his head spins. Henry’s pressure is firm and professional and unyielding and he can see the old brown jacket the older man stripped off his own shoulders start to stain where it rests against Shawn, who seems to be remembering that he got shot with a real live bullet for the first time since they found him. 

“Dad – Dad, stop, stop, fuck! Why’d you – doesn’ haft’ – jus -”

Plausible deniability, Gus thinks while Shawn complains. It would be normal except Henry's actually apologizing. He stares at the ugliest sepia-patterned fruit on his best friend's dad's shirt and counts to ten, then twelve, then thirteen. He wonders what Destiny's up to these days. He doesn't look and pretends not to hear, either.

“Gus,” Henry says after another minute, and Gus looks up. With a jolt, he realizes that he’s watching Henry Spencer cry. Nothing about his voice has changed; nothing about his posture has changed. The faint sound of an ambulance invades their consciousness while mundane, dull tears shine in the pale afternoon sun as they leak out of the older man's eyes and down his grizzled exhausted face. “You need to throw up?”

He does, kind of. Shawn’s spare hand has grabbed the dirty fabric of Gus’s jeans in one fist. He isn’t yelling anymore and from over Henry’s shoulder Gus can see Juliet, across the road, looking over at them desperately. She probably can't see the details, but there's no way she hasn't heard. Shawn gasps a shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut and bites down into his own shirtsleeve to muffle himself. Gus and the car are blocking the worst of it from everyone else. The sirens are properly loud now. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Henry says. “You know? It just looks like hell.”

Like he’s fifteen again, and being ordered to go get the keys. Gus shakes his head anyway, and Henry doesn’t ask again. 

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: 19 months “Tiger & Help”

Sitting outside the auditorium doors of the THEMS support group stood Mayday. A mandatory requirement of ending her house arrest was either to speak with a therapist appointed directly by Erian, or the Hyper city government. Or to spend several sessions with a therian support group and pass a psych exam from THEMS. One of the options was a lot more pro-therian and less likely to be mocked for being inhuman than the other. And here she stood, right outside the doors that were the keys back to her life. She was several hours early and shaking like a leaf in a tornado, but she had to make a good first impression, otherwise everything would just go wrong again, just like all the other times. Did she deserve happiness if she's just going to spiral out of control again? Who wants to hear about that? It'd be the worst kind of rude to take over this meeting with her own problems. Perhaps she should just leave. She made it to the doors. And next time she'll step inside! Maybe. Hopefully. Mayday decided that for now, the best option was to leave.

As she turned away, a sharp creaking sound came from behind her as the doors opened.  “Ow…  Damn noise…  Need to get some oil or something for that…”  The voice was low, but feminine, belonging to a tall white tiger therian with long dark purple hair who was wearing dark, flowing clothing and walking with a cane.  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!  Do you need anything?  Were you out here waiting for someone?”

Mayday couldn’t help but jump in shock at the poor timing, Oh no, someone who could potentially relate to her problems! This is fine, just need to make smart and normal words come out of a mouth. “Yes, hello, I was standing here because I like to stand, I’ll be going now bye!” Great. Now Mayday has to flee not only in fear but in embarrassment as well.

“Oh, um, alright.  Are you sure you don’t need anything?”  The tiger therian was confused by the awkward reply, but wasn’t pursuing Mayday.  “Our doors are always open.”

This was her chance, this is her moment, she could leave now if she just kept walking, just say thank you and leave, that’s all she had to do. “I’m here for the support group.”

Oops.

“Oh, yes, of course!”  The tiger gave a grin; it was difficult to tell with her feline face whether it was meant to be kind or predatory.  “I’m afraid you’re a few hours early for the scheduled meet-up, but if there’s something on your mind, I’m available until then, or you could just come in and sit down if you like.”

“Um. Yeah, thank you. I’m… well I’m a bit nervous. I don’t.” Oh of all the times to suddenly get a frog in her throat why now. Ugh! If this goes on she’s going to think Mayday’s a weirdo! Ok, just calm down. Just relax and calm yourself Mayday. “Sorry, it’s been a bad past couple of months. I sort of spent a lot of it dealing with legal battles and lawyers explaining the dumbest concepts to me. Not that I’m a criminal! Just, well you might have heard about an incident and while back. About a bite.”

The tiger looked thoughtful for a moment.  “...I do seem to recall something like that in the news.  A… mimic otherkin, if I’m remembering right?”  She gave a look of sympathy.  “If that was you, then… I’m sorry.  It must have been terrible.”  She stepped to the side, holding the door open invitingly.  “Would you like to come in and talk?  Maybe have something to drink or snack on?”

“No snacks please, I’m not very hungry.” Mayday couldn’t help but view the room as massive. Simultaneously so much larger than herself yet bearing down on her in a claustrophobic death grip. “Being a mimic has been a lot more troubling than I thought it would be. I don’t just mean the recent events. I didn’t even originally want to be a mimic. I was taking what I thought was a slime HRT. I sort of just hoped it would end with spending most days sitting around not having to worry about a single thing in the world. Turns out no matter what, I’m still stuck in a human society.”

The tiger silently listened, concern spreading across her face.  At the end of Mayday’s explanation, she gave a solemn nod.  “That can be the hardest thing to accept about humanity removal.  It’s easier than ever to change our selves, it’s a whole lot harder to change the world around us.  You also aren’t the only case I’ve heard of where someone wasn’t getting the treatment they thought they were.  It’s… a bit scary, how much of a crapshoot humanity removal can be.”  She angled her head towards the room.  “Let’s at least get you sitting somewhere comfy.  I’m Alexis, by the way.  Resource Coordinator for THEMS.”

Mayday simply stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do or how to not stand out like a sore thumb. She looks around, trying to imagine this place, full of other therians and otherkin just like her. It's a pleasant image, but one she quickly shoos away. This isn't a good time to imagine pleasantries. “Others getting screwed over like me huh? I can only imagine what kind of messed up junk Erian has pulled on other people. I assume it's Erian at least. He's the only actual provider I know of.” Oh stars, this is the resource coordinator for THEMS. How do you talk to someone so important? “So, could I ask you a question? If that's ok.”

Alexis followed her in, and took a seat on a cushioned chair nearby.  “Yeah, it’s usually Theo-...  Usually Erian connected to the sketchier stuff.  I swear that man would be buried under lawsuits if he didn’t make us all sign stacks of liability waivers.  There ARE other providers now though, we keep a list of all the ones we’ve personally checked out so we can hand them out to anyone who needs one.  Oh, and go ahead.  Ask anything you like.”

“Well, I. How do I phrase this? Recently I made a decision to stay the way I am. Erian gave the whole crossroads talk after I already passed it. It’s caused problems, well you’ve already heard about it. I think a lot more like a mimic than a human, and I don’t know if that means I get to exist in human society anymore. I don’t want to go to a zoo, or get adopted by a friend. I want to live the life I had before. But I don’t think that’s possible anymore. I never thought about it before but what the heck do therians do to live among humans? What am I doing wrong? …Ok. Look, I understand our existence isn’t cursed, or wrong, or disgusting. But sometimes I hear people attack me so much now that I sometimes end up believing them. Maybe they’re right, why should they let a dangerous monster walk around next to them… Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that! I shouldn’t drop something that heavy on you. Oh universe, stupid Mayday, stupid! I’m sorry, I can leave.”

“Please don’t leave.”  Alexis held up a paw, trying to get Mayday to calm down, and breathe.  “It sounds like you have a lot to sort out, like you need someone who gets it, and believe me, I do get it.”  Her eyes fell downward, a regretful look on her face.  “You aren’t the only one who… lost control, and hurt someone.  I hadn’t even reached the crossroads yet at the time...”  She sat forward, leaning on her cane, and spoke softly, calmly.  “I’ve got a lot of opinions about the crossroads, I won’t get into it unless you want to hear them, but the point is that as big a deal as Erian makes it out to be, the crossroads isn’t a hard line.  It’s not ‘you must be this human to participate in society’.  You aren’t a monster, Mayday.  You’ve just got a new set of instincts that you’re not used to, and it’s going to take some time and effort to learn to live with them.  We can definitely help you with that.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Mayday takes the time to practice her breathing and moves to find a seat. It’s obvious to anyone that she’s shaking even more now. It’s taking all her mental energy to move one limb forward at a time. “I sort of. Well I kinda figured the crossroads for me was a little, I guess blurry. I lost all my memories around, I think, more than half a year ago. It’s been tough adjusting to life after that. How do you figure out who you are during the biggest change of your life, the only change you’ve ever experienced. Figuring out if I’m Mayday or someone else has been something I keep putting off, and every time I think about it, I just… stop thinking about it. It’s been a tough half a year living in Hyper city, and moving back to my original home feels like an impossibility. I guess I just want to know if it does get easier. When the treatment is over, does everything just end up working out?”

Alexis took a long pause, thinking back on all of her own experiences, considering her next words carefully.  “The truth is, things very rarely ‘just work out’.  But… that’s just as true for anyone, human or therian.  I can’t say I understand what it’s like to lose all of your memories like that, but I’ve had a few identity crises in my time, and the way I’ve found to deal with them is, well… to let yourself exist as you are.  Let yourself exist as Mayday, let ‘home’ be where you feel comfortable being.  You are who and where you are right now, and that’s enough.  You are enough.”  She offered a reassuring smile.  “And to answer your other question, yes.  It does get easier.  Some days are worse than others, and sometimes it’s so slow you don’t even notice it, but eventually you look back at how far you’ve come, and you notice how much stronger you are.”

“That… It helps to hear that. Thank you. Like, sincerely, thank you. I feel like lately I keep learning this same lesson over and over again and every time I think I understand it, something new hits me like a speeding truck and I need to relearn everything again. It’s been rough.” Mayday’s shaking seems to slow and calm a little. She slows her breathing to a normal pace. “I have people here to help at least. Despite nearly killing her. My partner and even her family have been way, way too understanding of the situation. The kind of understanding that you can’t help feeling more guilty about heh heh. But there’s been other people too who keep reaffirming my choices. It’s so weird how quickly I’ve been making friends with total strangers. Funny story, I lived in the apartment system here for. Well I think since I first lost my memories, and I only recently learned about the support group from one of the previous attendees. I think her name was Aria. She seemed nice, if a little… spacy. Sorry, that's probably rude to say.”

Alexis continued paying close attention throughout, allowing Mayday to say whatever she needed to, but when she mentioned someone named Aria, Alexis’ expression immediately shifted to one of concern, perhaps even alarm.  “...Aria?  Couldn’t be…  Unless…”  Alexis seemed to suddenly remember where she was, and what she was doing.  “I-I’m sorry, that was rude of me…  I’m…  I’m glad you’re finding those connections with people, and it sounds like you’ve found someone very kind and forgiving for a partner.  It’s… understandable, to feel guilty, but if they’re forgiving towards you, it’s because they want to be.”  She seemed a little more awkward now, as if some of her thoughts were somewhere else.

Several eyes open around Mayday's body and head at the sudden stutter. Mayday's face of worry turns to one more of curiosity and cautiousness. “Is Aria not someone I should have brought up? Did you know her well or. Is this about that zoo place?” Mayday can't help but show a flash of fear across her face. Immediately anxious about prying into what is probably such a delicate topic.

“No, no, it’s not a bad thing!”  Alexis was quick to answer.  “You…  You might have just given me something I’ve been looking for, actually…”  She paused.  "It's... a long shot, but I have to ask, or I'm going to regret it.  The 'Aria' you met...  was she a lamia otherkin?  Blue scales, dark hair, yellow eyes?  And…  And you said she was at a zoo??”

An idea, no, an out. I mean sure Mayday is here to discuss her own problems and find a solution, but is that really true? Every time she's found happiness it's been ripped right out. Happiness is something she's just not allowed to have, right? At least that's how that new brain sees it. All she has to do is strike. “Yeah that sounds like Aria. I tried visiting the zoo again to see her, but after she ran away from her guards at the aquarium, I guess they had her somewhere else away from the public. It's honestly been long enough that I don't even know if she goes by Aria. She could barely remember this place to begin with.”

Alexis slumped in her seat, letting out a breath of relief.  "I feel like I owe you an explanation...  Aria was part of the online chat server that eventually grew into this support group, back before we found a home with THEMS.  She's actually the one who invited me to the server, back during my own species transition.  I probably wouldn't be a part of THEMS at all without her."  Her hands and voice were beginning to tremble.  "But... a while back, she disappeared.  She…  She left a message saying she was taking the crossroads, and said goodbye."  Tears began to well up in the tiger's eyes.  "I moved to Hyper City partly to try to find her, but I'd...  I'd almost given up on ever seeing her again."  Her eyes pinched shut.  “If she’s losing her memories, it might already be too late, but…  I have to try to see her.”  She opened her eyes again, giving Mayday a look of sadness, but gratitude.  “Thank you.  Thank you for giving me this.”

Mayday just looks horrified. She runs forward and takes Alexis's hands into her own. “I didn't mean to make you cry! I'm so sorry, I, well I'm glad I could help. Are you going to be ok? I didn't realize how big this was for you. Now I just feel like a jerk trying to pivot away to something I don't know anything about. I'll make it up to you somehow!” Mayday notices a mouth of hers slowly creeping towards her hands and pulls herself away before another bite incident can occur. “Oh, uh, sorry, I shouldn't get close to people when my emotions are too high.”

Alexis couldn’t help but smile at Mayday’s genuineness.  “Yes, I’m going to be okay, thank you!”  Alexis reaches up with a paw and wipes away a tear.  “You don’t need to make anything up to me, we’re here to help you, remember?  But if you really want to do something for me, just don’t forget to show up to the group later, okay?  You can participate as much or as little as you like, but I think it’ll do good for you.  It’ll help your instincts get used to being around people, too, so hopefully soon you won’t have to worry about your emotions running high.  You can also leave at any time if it gets to be too much, I promise nobody’s going to judge you for it.”

“Huh- Oh! Right! Yeah, that's why I came here, haha. Didn't expect things would get so emotional on the first day. Well before the first day I guess. It feels weird to think about how terrifying it'll be to join, but it's also weirdly exciting. I guess talking with someone really can help clear the head. It's nice of you to say all those things, and I'm sure I'll find what I need here, and if it's not too intrusive, I can let you know the next time I'll be trying to visit Aria if you want to tag along. Uh, but for now, I can help set things up for the group since I'm here so early anyways.”

“I think I’d really like that, going out with a new friend to meet up with an old one.”  Putting some of her weight on her cane, the white tiger got to her feet.  “And since you’re offering, I could use some help getting the furniture set up…  Leg’s not what it used to be, after my own ‘incident’.”

“Of course! I’ll make sure this place is perfect for everyone! I’m going to do my absolute best to support others in this group, just you watch! Wait hold on, where are the chairs? Um, how do I arrange everything? Uhhh, I guess we’ll just take it one step at a time.”

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Hey y'all, Navi here! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I mentioned in the 17th month chapter how much of an inspiration @tigergirltail is and so we got the chance to write a collaboration story. You have no idea how much fun it was to write this chapter, and at this point I've almost completed the next chapter because Tigergirltail is too good at filling our brain with ideas. So thank you again for being so amazing, writing this collab with us, and for writing your own amazing series.

And thank you to everyone who read this chapter. Here's hoping the inspiration train keeps pushing along and maybe I'll have the next chapter out by Sunday/Monday. See you there.

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Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315

@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop, @nyxthewary, @lunadook

[coltishcaterpillar]

Unmasked / Platonic!Alastor x Teen! Daughter Reader

Chapter II: Sneaking Suspicion

Summary:

After reading over thirty-one entries, three disturbing pages are brought to light….or the darkness, depending on how Emily wants to look at it.

WARNING: This entire chapter (and probably the next one) depicts a very disturbed, traumatized, paranoid child (who is you, the reader.), who has just lost the person she loved most in the world. A HUGE deterioration in her psyche is seen here.

Look out for: Murder, Mental Illness, Paranoia, Anxiety, Delusions, Cannibalism, etc….

November 12th, 1933

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, my dear diary. Please, Jesus, please help me find my way back, I’m…I’m shaking relentlessly and the monsters at night won’t leave me alone.

My Pa….he’s not come home in three weeks. I know he will never open that door again, but I wish he would just one last time.

It started with a simple hunting trip. I saw him bringing a large trash bag over his shoulder whilst he was going out, and I just assumed it held his gun and other necessities.

A few hours later, people heard gunshots go off in the area he hunted and now he’s…..

When they opened the bag they found another mangled body….and concluded that my Papa was the serial killer terrorizing New Orleans since 1922.

No, he couldn’t have done anything of the sort. He was a good man. PAPA was a good man. He was. He is.

I read it in the papers…nobody wants to see me anymore. I’ve tried contacting everyone I knew and loved, and they told me to never set foot on their property again, they thought I was involved in this hellish situation!

Anne, James, Elbert, Carol, Mr. Devereaux, Charlotte, Martin…..EVERYBODY has abandoned me!

I wanted to desperately contact Grandma, so I wrote her a series of letters. Her caretaker wrote me a letter back that she went into shock after finding out Pa died, and she’s….well, she’s in Heaven now too.

I just turned sixteen, please. I need my Papa back….my Grandma….

I’ve been in the house surviving off of scraps. I’m afraid to leave again; I don’t want to be shot, I don’t want people coming after me because of what my Papa allegedly did. I’ve lost so much weight, I’m tired, I feel sick….

I’m not ready to be a woman, to grow up, quite yet. I grew up taking things for granted; I thought I would have my family and friends for life. How will I find a job? Will anybody take me in? Can I find a new family?

I’m still here, I’m still here, my dear friend. My beautiful…I’ve not lost my mind, not yet. I’m not crazy, am I? No, no….I’m just….going through some traumatic moments!

I’m hungry….

My stomach is hurting so bad, I’m perspiring and my toes are curled…I need more food. I’ve eaten nearly everything, I have no money to purchase anything else…

Every time it growls, there’s a new tang of pain….

Papa, you would never….you’re a good man, Pa. I love you, I’ll always love you….

Oh, it all makes sense now! Why you never wanted me to see what you brought home, why you were always out late, why you were so secretive…oh, Pa, why didn’t you tell me?! I…I would’ve….contacted the authorities.

Which is what you didn’t want.

I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING DEMON! HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS UPON ME AND GRANDMA, I HOPE YOU ROT YOU SICK, TWISTED, SORRY EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN-

I miss your kisses and your hugs, Pa. Please….please come back. At least tell me where your grave is so I can hug your body one last time….I’ve never wanted to hear your voice more, whether it be in real life or the radios, please!

Oh my god, what are we having for dinner? I’m starving, Pa….

I have a headache, Pa….please give me some medicine to ease the pain…..

I need you, I need somebody. Anybody. Please….

I never want to see you again. If I ever see you again after this lifetime I will do everything in my power to slaughter you a second time for all the pain that you’ve caused….

I’m going to take a breather soon, my dear friend. I need to let off some steam. I’m….I just need to find an energy source. I’ll be back, I promise.

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November 13th, 1933

Oh, I’ve found something to eat, finally. It didn’t taste as terribly as I thought, and in fact, it tasted similar to how you cooked our meat, Pa. So tender….so, so, tender…..

The gangster didn’t even see it coming. I don’t think he liked me, he was looking at me like I did something wrong. I hushed him, hushed him well, and said,

“No, no, sir. Why are you giving me that look?? I’m only hungry! I’m just trying to survive! Please don’t let me starve!”

I hated that gaze. That look on his face made me feel like a monster, like I wasn’t justified in my action to cut him into tiny little pieces-

Pa, it’s just like you used to make. I never knew how…similar the meat tasted until now. Why did you do that? To so many innocent people….this man was not innocent, Pa. He was part of a cartel, I was doing this world a favour!

I feel better, I think. My stomach feels more satisfied than it has in days.

I don’t feel any better, though. I just…I just ate somebody….

I don’t know what to do! How is….how is his family going to react when they find this out?! I….I caused him pain, so much pain….

But I need more. I want to live….I have so much goodness to offer to the world, I promise I can be better! I’m not usually like this! I promise to make you proud! To make everybody proud…like I’ve always tried to do!

I know how much I was lacking in performance, I’ve never been cut out for the big leagues, but I am positive I can amount to something! If this world will give me a chance, I’ll be the best version of myself I can ever be. I can, I can! You always said I could do anything I put my mind to, I can do this. I can still be a happy girl and young woman, I can still grow up, I can make new friends. Perhaps I’ll move? Yes, maybe that’s a good idea…

I miss you. I miss Grandma, I miss our talks. The things you would do with me…how you used to sing to me when I was scared of the monsters under my bed, our weekly theatre nights; we’d always go to see Charlie Chaplin, that was your favourite; and it grew to be mine too.

I miss how close we were to each other. We were like….we were like two peas in a pod. We couldn’t be one without the other.

1917, was the year of my birth. How well do you remember picking me up that day? When I was alone, cold, nearly dead…in a dumpster? You saved me.

That’s why….I don’t want to believe you did those things, Papa. I don’t. I have a very strong sense of morality, you know that. I….I can’t fathom you ever being capable of something like that.

I…I don’t think I knew you, Papa. You…

You betrayed me.

Everybody was right, you know. The suspicions people had about you. Anne…she always talked about you with a certain look of fear in her eyes, and I always made the time to defend you to anybody who ever judged.

How was it, that the only person who never saw the signs, was me? The person who lived with you for sixteen years?

Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it.

And now look at what you’ve done. You’ve killed a part of me…you killed Grandma; your mother! I was supposed to meet her up for tea a few days after your death, but time had beaten me to it. What ever will I do, without your love?

I miss you, Pa. And I love you, so very much. But you better pray to the devil himself; that I do not die for another five decades. I won’t be able to hold myself back…from hurting you. And I’ll hurt you bad.

To be hated….to be attacked by somebody you protected, nurtured, loved with all your heart….yes, that’s the pain I want to inflict on you. Your daughter, the person you’d kill for, turning against you.

I love you, Pa, I really do. But….a serial killer will never be somebody I bode well with.

———————

January 10th, 1934

I am sorry. For everything. It’s very frigid out here due to winter, and I’ve been camping outside for quite a while…I can’t feel my legs anymore.

To….anybody I may have scared or hurt, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.