#and so now he's facing some physical repercussions of that

[megarywrites]

snippets from november: 3/30

The Silent Shore — Part II: Split - Ch14 "In Broad Daylight"

Sweat still poured off of him, his dense curls soaked through and sticking to his brow. I turned, glancing around for anything that could pass for a fan. There were some rolls of parchment tucked inside the cavity within the apeza, and I darted for it, unraveling one of them and folding it in half on my way back to the Diamo.  I sat on the bench before him, leaning over the back as I started to fan his face. He relaxed almost at once, his eyes fluttering closed as he rolled onto his back, his hands going limp at his lapels. After a few seconds of watching him, I looked back over my shoulder, watching the door for when Solera would return.   “I’m…pleasantly surprised by you,” he said at last, the raspy sound of his voice startling me. I looked back at him, finding his eyes still closed and his countenance adorned with a wan smile. “I thought…after last night…you’d take after your mother…with her insolence.” The hand fanning him faltered and he barely opened his wandering eyes. Once he found me, he reached out, patting my arm with his clammy hand. “But you’re a good girl, aren’t you…”  I was lucky. Not only did my sioti conceal most of my disdainful grimace, but Solera’s reappearance distracted us both.

[samcvrpenters]

word count:  1.3k+

pairing:  joe goldberg x fem! reader

summary:  you always knew joe was different to anyone you previously dated, and you didn’t really care in the way that it was. 

warnings:  obsession, stalking, stealing, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of sexual content, you’re a little insane too but not in the way he is

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

joe was always the type of person who showed his love. at least, to you. 

he probably expressed all of the love languages that you could think of. he would have aspects of every single one during your relationship. if you looked up what they were, it would basically be describing him in the website.

physical touch was used often, whether it was an arm around your body or that slight squeeze of your hip. whether it was the fact that he would pull himself closer to you in the middle of the night, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck and letting his lips glide along your skin.

words of affection? they were constant. repeated again and again. over and over. you could never get enough of his constant praise or those sweet nothings into your ear. 

spending time with you, gift giving and acts of service were the same. all used frequently. maybe not buying you gifts too often, but he often allowed you to take a book from the bookstore he managed with no repercussions. 

how could he not? those puppy eyes when you walked into the store with the hardcover book in your hands made him weak in the knees. 

he would do anything for you.

so maybe it wasn’t a surprise that violence was also one of his love languages. maybe it wasn’t a surprise that stalking you was one of his love languages? maybe it wasn’t a surprise that he had took things from your apartment. 

the way you would leave your apartment and he would be torn between following you to make sure you were safe or looking around your apartment to make sure you would be safe there.

he was down bad.

he had already pulled himself to forget about candace and how he had buried her alive. he can still remember the chase now— the way he pulled her into the dirt and made sure that she was covered with all of that soil.

he would often keep himself in your apartment.

maybe he would keep himself hidden behind one of the big curtains, or under the bed, or in your wardrobe (even though that was a risky option), and he would be able to watch you do your daily chores and then step out and watch as you would sleep. you were always so comfortable in bed.

he had to restrain himself from reaching out and pulling back that strand of hair that had fallen over your face, wanting to see the shape of your face and that beautiful skin.

you would pull yourself up to the headboard in the morning, letting out a yawn and pulling the pillows lazily over your body.

you didn’t know he was there.

until he got a little lazy. a little impatient with his actions because he simply wanted to be with you.

you would leave for work, sending him a quick morning text (something that made him love you so much— you had just woken up and the first thing you had done was shot him a text! how lucky was he??), and he would follow you.

but he had forgotten his signature cap one day, and whilst you were waiting for your daily drink at a refreshments stand, you had took a glance around the area and had seen him.

he wasn’t sure if you had actually spotted him though, as he had turned around and wouldn’t be that recognisable from the back.

but you did.

of course you did.

but for some reason, you simply couldn’t find yourself caring. you went home that night, sweet as a piece of candy from one of the best shops, and had found yourself with him.

he can still remember the way you let your hands dance around on his shoulders, fingers gliding along his clothes until moving to the buttons of his shirt, slowly pulling them undone. it was the way you pulled it off, teeth biting down on your lower lip— but not before your tongue wet it.

it was the way your mouth had attached to the side of his neck, hands grasping at that white t-shirt he wore underneath and scrunching it up in your hands, lips pulling against his skin and barely letting your teeth scrape against the flesh. he couldn’t stand it. he remembered wanting more. he remembered wanting you. 

he remembered the way he reciprocated those feelings, his lips moving against your own skin and pushing his thumb in your mouth, desperate for some of your saliva even though you had just been kissing at his skin. he remembered those soft sounds you made. he remembered everything. 

it was the way he pushed you back into the bed and let you show you how much you loved him. he showed you how much he loved you too.

yet you were so unsure of why you were still so attracted to him— even after finding out he had been stalking you.

you didn’t know how long for.

maybe you didn’t want to know how long he had been following you for. 

but everything was perfectly fine with the two of you— and it had been for days after. you never mentioned the fact you saw him a few days before, and he never asked you about it.

why would he?

that would simply reveal his guilt. and in his mind, he wasn’t guilty of anything. he was just looking after you, like any good boyfriend would.

but then you found it.

you found the thing that you weren’t meant to find. but did you truly care? no. you didn’t.

the ceiling was slightly askew, tile in the bathroom slanted. and after looking up to search for any cobwebs one day, you had noticed the way that it was a little different.

it was only a cardboard box (and possibly a shoe box) but it was so much more valuable because of what was inside of it.

in a way, it was lucky for you. you had just found everything that had mysteriously gone missing from your apartment: lip balm, lingerie, jewellery. there was even a used sanitary product in there.

your face screwed up, but it wasn’t necessarily in disgust. you were glad that he cared this much about you to put this much effort into having a part of you close to him at all times. so what if it was a little creepy? it was so loving.

he knew that you knew. 

of course he did. the tile wasn’t put back in its rightful place (even though it wasn’t necessarily done the best before), and the items within it weren’t in the right places. 

he was absolutely shocked when you didn’t say a thing about it though and just went on with life as you usually did with him.

he was starting to think about whether you actually had discovered it or whether there was something wrong with his memory.

were you scheming? were you acting nonchalant and that’d be your way out?

he honestly wasn’t sure.

but the way you wrapped your arms around him as you pressed your lips against his forehead with nothing but love in your eyes? that showed that you still cared about him, didn’t it?

he was so uncertain about what to believe.

but he wouldn’t confront you about it— no. he would wait for you to say something about it.

but for now?

it seemed like you were as affectionate as ever. so perhaps you didn’t care about his strange habits. and perhaps that was the way to go. 

[takes1]

HI I LOVE UR WRITING

can i req a fic for iwa :000 maybe reader comes w him to the gym and he can clearly see her blushing at him workin out n his body 😔 the rest can be up to u :))

iwaizumi hajime x reader mutual gym thirst

hi!!! thank you so much!! really liked this idea :) i used his timeskip interest to help with some structure here, but i hope i got enough right!

warnings. sfw-ish, thirsty info. iwa's hot bod / charged staring / mutual crushing / questionable touching / will-they-won't-they kinda vibe / oikawa being a nuisance / oikawa moving things along / athletic!reader / injured!reader / 1.4k words haikyuu collection. more here! more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You never once thought of what your school gym's layout could really do for you before this afternoon.

There was absolutely no reason to, until a certain tall, dark, and handsome brute took a liking to the power rack in front of the treadmill you were tied to for the next half-hour.

Part of your training plan required 40 monotonous minutes of incline walking- so a longer variation of the tried-and-true 12-3-30 became your new ritual after your team's practice. Shin splits weren't going to go away on their own, after all.

So, you and your defective shins were already married to this spot. When he walked his beefy ass to a spot so ideal for watching, you couldn't help but feel a little creepy.

This light dusting of shame didn't stop your eyes from wandering, though. You were too tired from a long practice and longer physical therapy to truly keep your gaze glued to the numbers on the screen.

That near-pornographic muscle-tee he wore at least twice a week was in rotation today.

It was soaked through; light blue now dark, from the cardio that he just finished outside with his partner and current spotter.

"Come ooon, you can get that up," Oikawa smirked, knowing damn well he needed to help Iwa get the bar racked.

He laughed at his friend's shaky struggle, himself even surprised when the bar slammed against the metal holds.

"Fucking prick," Iwa grumbled with very little air in his lungs.

The dark tone on his tongue raised your brow. You looked at the ceiling with a big exhale to get the thoughts out of your head.

This crush was much more manageable when it was confined to passing glances in the hall.

He was panting as he sat up. You looked back down just in time to watch him remove his useless, sticky shirt.

Sure, the hip-deep slits down the sides didn't leave so much to the imagination, but this was still so much better.

You bit the inside of your cheek and squeezed your eyes shut to keep from making any ridiculous faces, but the image of his bouncy chest and twitchy, heavy biceps were burned into your eyelids.

They had to switch out the weight between turns, so when he took the side of the rack closest to you, you were able to stare at his working back muscles without any repercussions. It was akin to crashing ocean waves between his shoulder blades. He set a plate gently onto the floor.

His skin glistened in the moody lighting. The veins in forearms were plump with effort.

"You feeling okay, (Y/n)?"

Oikawa gave an all-too-knowing grin at you when you locked eyes with him.

Heat crept up your neck- as if you needed to feel any hotter- and horribly embarrassed, you couldn't craft a response to his smartass comment.

Thankfully, Iwa glanced back at your downcast expression and scoffed at his friend.

"They're out on injury right now. Chill out, dude," Iwa came to your rescue, thankfully mistaken to the nature of his remark.

Oikawa looked frustrated that his jab didn't land the way he wanted it to.

You stuck your tongue out at him when Iwa wasn't looking and got one right back.

Now that you were under suspicion, you had more motivation to not stare at him anymore. It just wasn't worth getting found out.

This aversion to looking in their direction allowed the more lively of the two to whisper something with a smirk without you catching him.

Only five minutes remained on your screen when Oikawa climbed up onto the treadmill next to yours, despite the four empty ones further away.

An eye roll. You swiped the sweat off of your face and flicked it at him.

He didn't even get the chance to say anything snarky before Iwa noticed his absence.

"Stop being an ass," He grumbled.

"I didn't say anything!"

He wiped down of the rest of the bench, grabbed his shirt, and stood between the two treadmills. He motioned between you.

"You're being obnoxious," Iwa asserted, "Go somewhere else."

He sure as Hell wasn't happy about it, but he gave in to his friend's wishes. This would be interesting enough without him needing to interfere-- he kept a watchful, cheeky eye on both of you from across the gym.

"So, they got you doin' this," He put his hand on the side of the machine, brow furrowed in concern, "God, isn't that a bit much?"

There was no way you could speak to him without ending this. You pressed stop on your workout, thankful to be done with a good enough excuse.

You set your hands on your hips and tried to get your breathing back to normal. Your shins were burning.

"I hope not," You shrugged and wiped the sweat off of your face with the collar of your shirt.

He rested the side of his face on his slick forearm and looked you up and down.

You tensed at the motion and looked to the side.

"Can I take a look?"

A strong twitch of embarrassed confusion on your face forced him to clarify immediately:

"Your legs- I mean," He laughed.

You knew he would assist the head PT every other day for injured student athletes that came through the training room. It was a way for him to get some experience in before he went for a degree.

It just so happened that it never aligned with your schedule, so even though he knew you had become a regular, he never got to assess you.

You tried not to limp on the way across the gym.

"Jesus..." He muttered as you sat your leg onto his lap, "Yeah, that's... fucked."

The little stretching corner was otherwise unoccupied, but you couldn't help but feel like your proximity was too much. Your head was craned around to make sure there were no teachers or staff around to yell at you- but flipped back around with small yelp at his hand.

You laughed and flinched away at his cold fingers, "Thanks."

He didn't react to you.

"I mean, like..."

Iwa was completely taken by how swollen your lower legs had gotten, he wasn't even finishing his sentences. His concentration was super cute. A little concerning, but cute.

He walked you through some new stretches that the head PT didn't care to show you; the more he informed you about the nature of your pain, the less you were trusting the old fellow that you had been seeing.

He supported you as you attempted a tough stretch and quickly reassured you to not push it. You let up as he suggested, hands trembling against his forearms.

"Juuust like that, yeah," He said gently next to your head.

Your face lit up and stopped, too embarrassed to keep this going. Maybe you did prefer that old, crusty, trained professional over him.

Concerned, he ducked to look at your expression, but you quickly evaded.

"Did that hurt too bad?" He asked.

You deliberated on lying but decided against it.

When you glanced back up at him and shook your head, he had a smile on his face that you couldn't quite rationalize.

The focus on 'strengthening' your shins seemed to Iwa like it was just making the issue worse. He recommended resting as much as possible.

His touch and his attentive gaze helped you manage the discomfort you felt going through the motions. He was always waiting for your reaction, gauging how he needed to shift you based on your facial expressions.

"Let me get you some ice," He snapped a couple times, deep in thought, "I wanna try that new wrap, too--,"

He jogged off into the clinic's room and flipped on the light.

In the mirror-wall you caught a glimpse of Oikawa at the free weights. He started blowing kisses in your direction and only stopped when Iwa hurried back out.

"Y'know, I can always make some extra time to check on this after practice."

Your expression softened.

Iwa knelt down next to you. He scanned the damage carefully before sitting, and took one leg into his lap again.

"I couldn't let you do that," You sighed and seethed at the contact.

There wasn't much more room to be gentle, so you just had to endure.

He layered everything slowly, firmly but not too tight, and would take the time to fix the stretchy tape if it got twisted. The actual therapist never spent this much time on you like this.

"Well," Iwa prodded at his finished work, "You can just... give me your number, and we can work something out?"

It may have been the ice, but the chills that ran up your spine were difficult to hide.

"Sure," You smiled.

It felt like you were agreeing to something a little less medical in nature.

He helped you to a stand and supported you for a few seconds too long.

"Sweet," Brushed off his lips in a consumed sigh.

masterlist.

requests/submissions: open

[thewulf]

Unexpectedly Part 2 || Aaron Hotchner

Request: The reader is a member of BAU, but nobody knows her dark past. She's running from her abusive ex. Once he hurt her so bad (fractured skull, several severe injuries) he left her to die in their apartment. Nowadays she keeps that past hidden, as good as she can... See rest here

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 7.1k

TW: Abuse. Both physical and mental. General Criminal Minds TW – talk of blood/gore/death/stabbing etc. AGE GAP between reader and Hotchner, reader is implied to be younger 25-35.

*Two Months Later*

‘I’m in Virginia. Just like you. How peculiar?’

Hands slightly shaking you gently placed your phone down on the conference room table. It never was going to stop. The slight form of torture this cruel man imposed on you. Knowing that just when you seemed to forget about him, he’d come crawling right back into your field of view. Remind you that he was always going to win. He’d been messing with your head sending these vague texts from new numbers after you blocked the old. It wasn’t enough that you’d changed your number three fucking times now, he always seemed to find a way.

You’d contemplated asking Garcia for some help. She would make you disappear in an instant. But, then you’d have to deal with the repercussions of telling the office gossip the juiciest tea that they’d had in a while. They’d all know, and you weren’t sure you could deal with that just yet. You were finally feeling steady and confident in your abilities again. Feeling like you were doing great at work again. You couldn’t mess this up.

Truth be told you hadn’t a clue what came next after this. JJ was still planning to be off for another few months. Perks of having a decent government job, as they say. But what came after that? Were you really just planning on running away time and time again only to be chased by this guy? That wasn’t a life you wanted to live. It wasn’t a life you were willing to live if you were honest with yourself.

An opaque sheen glazed over your eyes as you looked outside ignoring the text that loomed over you so harshly. It’d been five days since he bothered you. You’d almost forgotten. Almost.

A featherlight touch brushed over your shoulder breaking you out of the trance you were deeply in. Jumping your eyes widened when you spotted Aaron looking down at you.

Things were… complicated with him. You liked him. He liked you. But it couldn’t happen. No matter how much either of you wanted it to. They just couldn’t. Not while he was your boss. He had made that adamantly clear in the two months you’d been working for him. The two of you seemingly having the conversation almost every week now.

“Sorry.” His usual stoic face didn’t break as he sat down next to you, “I was calling for you. Everything okay?”

You hummed while nodding your head, “Yup. Just thinking.” Absentmindedly you grabbed your phone holding it in your hand on the opposite side from him. He noticed. He noticed all the small things about you and what you did. The things you probably didn’t even know that you were doing. How sometimes you got spacey when your phone went off. How you were clearly hiding something from him. But he wouldn’t push. It wasn’t his place as your boss. Not until it affected your work did, he have a right. No matter how much he desired too.

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow, challenging you. He knew how much you hated that. Hated being questioned like a toddler. Being the only not profiler on the team had you on the defensive all too often now.

“I’m good Hotch.” You nodded briefly before getting up. Being around him was downright suffocating. It was hard to be alone with him when you wanted so much more. It was selfish to run. Childish even but you couldn’t stand it. Not when the two of you danced around the subject so awkwardly.

“Wait… Y/N. Before you go.” He coughed spinning around in the chair.

You paused. He hardly used your first name at work. He knew exactly what to do to get you to stop. Pause for him, “Yes, Hotch?”

He stood, towering over you as he stopped in front of you. Hotch just made you feel small. Not that it was a bad thing per say. Just intimidating. And right now, Aaron Hotchner was terribly fucking intimidating without even trying to be. Whatever he asked you were sure you’d answer, all too honestly.

He decided to confront you. He hadn’t a clue what came over him as he started stating facts. The profiler coming out, “You’ve hidden your phone away the last four times I’ve run into you lost in your thoughts.” He paused collecting his thoughts, “You get all spacey and people have a hard time getting your attention. Is everything alright?”

Your heart rate picked up. How’d he notice? He was the best of the best but damn. You thought you did so much better, “You sound like Spencer.” You remarked, clearly deflecting.

“Y/N.”

You sighed, “Please don’t tell the rest of them?” You knew there wasn’t a chance you could come up with an excuse good enough to please Hotch. It was the truth that had to be told.

He nodded offering your seat back to you. Slowly walking back to the chair, you sat there staring back out the window before starting the long story of how you fell in love, fell into a trap, got engaged to a monster, and somehow got away before he fully killed you. Or so you thought.

He never interrupted you. Sitting there patiently as you divulged your biggest secret to your boss. The man you had a disgustingly big crush on. He only continued when you paused for a while. He knew it was the end of your story and it had taken a toll on you telling him all of that. He needed to come at you gently now. It explained so much about you.

“Y/N… that’s a lot.” He sighed knowing his words weren’t great. He was a good boss but never good with words. He showed his love for his teams through his actions. He always seemed to fumble his words, “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded, “It’s fine. It’s not the worst part.”

His head snapped right back to you, “What’s the worst?”

“He found me again. He’s been texting me. A new phone number every few days. Usually something threatening.” You opened you phone showing him the latest text message.

He snatched it from your grasp reading over it carefully. Well, this officially sucked for you. Maybe you should’ve told him sooner judging by the expression on his face, “You know I have to go to Garcia. She’s going to have to trace this…”

You interrupted him, “No! Please Aaron no. They can’t know. You promised.”

“This is serious!” He snapped, never taking safety lightly.

You took an involuntary scoot backward in the chair. Fight or flight mode beginning to kick in hearing his stern voice that he rarely used with the team.

Seeing your distressed face, he shook his head internally cursing himself for the outburst. You’d literally just spilled your deepest fears to him, and he was already seemingly betraying that trust already. Putting his hands up he took a small step forward, testing your boundaries, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice it’s just that this is very serious Y/N. We both know what he’s capable of. This isn’t something you hide. Not when you work here.”

You nodded looking away in guilt, “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

“You don’t have to handle it alone Y/N. You’ve got some of the smartest people in the field right here. All the resources you need at the tip of your fingers. You know the team would never judge you for something you can’t control. Please tell me you know that much.” Aaron’s face softened seeing you so upset.

“Yeah, it’s just… I don’t know.” You sighed while you rested your head in the palm of your hands refusing to look at him. This felt awkward and uncomfortable. Your absolute nightmare.

He waited a moment, realizing you weren’t talking anymore, “Go on. Say what you want to.”

“It’s embarrassing. How could I not have caught that he was lying the whole time? It’s shameful.”

He shook his head scooting closer to you, “And I got played by a serial killer who literally murdered my ex-wife and almost took me too. It’s not embarrassing. It happens. The best of the best get beaten. Believe it. You’re a victim and you’re being retraumatized right now. Please. I need you to understand that. I’ve grown to…” He took a second to find the right words, “care for you. I can’t see you beaten down and scared around every corner. Alright?”

You shook your head. You heard him. You weren’t sure if you believed him, but you sure did hear him, “Sure.”

He waited another moment before continuing, “That being said. I don’t have to go to Penelope if you have somebody stay with you. A friend? Just in case.”

You frowned. Not having anybody was really coming to bite you in the ass. It’s not like Hotch was going to drop this, you knew that was a given, “I don’t have anybody around here. I haven’t really had time to make many friends. Busy job and all.” You admitted still trying to find a footing outside of work. Although the hours made it damn near impossible.

He thought for approximately one second before springing into action, “Let me call Jess. She could probably watch Jack tonight…”

You shook your head back and forth, violently, “No!”

“Why not?” He looked genuinely confused.

“That’s weird Hotch. You’re just my boss.” You might’ve thrown a little more attitude in there than you really needed to, but you wanted him to know how unhappy you were with that. How much you yearned to at least be considered friends. But he shut it down the second you crossed the line.

“It’s not weird.” He would’ve scoffed if he knew it wouldn’t have upset you. He was getting good at making you upset. That was about the most opposite thing of what he wanted, “I’ll sleep on your couch. Just to make sure you’re safe.”

You sighed knowing the two of you would just be going back and forth but you needed him to hear how crazy he sounds, “Aaron. I’m not letting you abandon your son for the night to sleep on my couch. I’ve been fine for the last two and half months. I’ll be fine tonight.” You smiled hoping it’d appease him.

He shook his head, “Yeah, that’s just not going to happen. Not now that I know about it.”

“Hotch…”

“No, that’s final. Jess is good with watching him for the night anyway.” He held up his phone showing you the text as proof.

“You’re being insane.” You leaned back in your chair annoyed with his stubbornness.

“And you’re being irrational.” He countered annoyed with your inability to see how serious this really was, “Y/N. He probably knows exactly where you live. If he found you that quickly he’s probably been watching you.”

You shook your head, “I’ve been paying attention Hotch.” Eyes closed you didn’t want to admit you were almost afraid to open them. You knew you were pissing him off. It wasn’t often that anyone, besides Rossi, argued back to the boss. It was his way or the highway, as they say.

“I’m not saying you haven’t Y/N. But these people… people like that will never stop. That text is very threatening. Please. Please just let stay over. To make sure you’re okay.” He was saying the words he couldn’t say but he needed to. Your unwillingness just to see how scary this really was drove him to his breaking point.

Huffing you gave him a small nod, “Fine. But going forward…”

He cut you off, “We’ll figure out going forward tomorrow. Don’t worry about it tonight.”

“But Hotch…”

Cutting you off again you groaned in annoyance, loudly, “Just, try to relax. I’ll think of something. I know you don’t want me to tell the team and I’m going to try and respect that. But you have to know if it’s between your safety or them knowing… keeping you safe is all that matters.”

Your leg bounced up and down and your stomach feeling uneasy you looked up to him, “Yeah, sure.” Simply too tired to argue with the ever-confusing man you shut your laptop before getting up to go pack up. It was already half past eight, the team was long gone.

The sun was beginning its descent for the night, casting an orange hue on your boss. It dawned on you as you admired, he man you’ve been crushing on way too hard, being teased and all about it, that he was staying in your apartment that night. Under any other scenario it was entirely desirable but now? Not so much. Not under these circumstances.

“Where are you going?” He asked, slightly surprised you’d been so bold as to walk away in the middle of the conversation.

“Packing up then going home.” You paused in the doorway sneaking a quick peek back at the man you was watching you intently.

He frowned after hearing your words, “Give me three minutes then I can drive.”

“Oh, I can drive myself home. I’ll text you the address.” You gave him a half-hearted smile. Truth be told you were far too excited to have him spend the night. Even if it was in another room. He insisted on it. But then again, he’d already set a clear line in the sand with you. You could only be his employee when you worked for him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He smiled trying to ease your obvious nerves, “You’re being weird about it.”

“I’m being weird? Hotch, it’s fucking weird.” You spun back around preparing to walk away before he caught your attention again.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” His smile turned into a smirk. He knew how you felt for him. You were pretty sure you knew how he felt for you. This back and forth was driving you mad. Like he wanted to play the game but knew it couldn’t be won.

You wanted to smack the usually so intelligent man, it felt like he was just playing you like a fiddle now, “Yeah, sure.” This time you walked away making sure to pack up quickly. Your speedy exit was stopped suddenly as he got into the elevator with you. Somehow with his go-bag and all.

“What’s wrong?” He asked setting his bag down turning his body completely to you. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew it was mean. He couldn’t deny it. But he loved flirting with you, getting you a little wound up. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he adored you just as much as you liked him, if not more. But he couldn’t risk it. For his career. For your blooming one.

You leaned your shoulders and head back on the metal wall, “You’re kidding?” You sighed while lazily flipping your head in his general direction.

“I’m not.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew he’d make you say it out loud. It was easier to spit it out than skirt around the subject, “This is torture. Working so close to you all the time. You flirting like that then turning me down the next fucking second.”

“You know why nothing can happen.”

“I’m very well aware. We’ve had this conversation before Hotch. A million times.” The two of you had delicately danced around the conversation, never full on admitting any feelings. Hotch had to squash that before it came to fruition.

He visibly frowned knowing he was upsetting you, “You can call me Aaron.”

“But I can’t! None of your other employees do. So why should I? What makes me special Hotch?” You challenged him. He couldn’t have both at once. He couldn’t just be your boss then talk to you like this. It was driving you mad.

He sighed knowing you were right, “Rossi doesn’t.”

“Rossi’s different and you know that.” You were frustrated. As much as you loved the job you couldn’t keep going down the path of yes one moment and no the next. Hotch just couldn’t comprehend just how crazy he was driving you. Either that or you were hiding it insanely well.

He cleared his throat knowing he really only had this chance to not fuck it up between the two of you. He’d been trying to come up with different ways always to be struck down in his own mind. He’d continue thinking though, for both of your sakes.

“Y/N. I like you. More than a boss should like their employee.” He paused letting out the breath he was holding in, “I can’t risk anything right now though. I can’t risk it and you can’t risk it. Not with this guy out to hurt you, with Strauss up my ass about the team…” He trailed off knowing this was just turning into an excuse now.

The elevator chirped as Hotch paused, signaling you were at the bottom. You walked out quickly hoping he wouldn’t follow. When he met your stride, you continued on, “It’s fine Hotch. I get it. Please just stop playing with me when the team isn’t around. It’s diving me crazy. If it can’t happen, it can’t happen, and I can accept that. I just need you to back off.” It hurt you to push him away. Even if he was staying at your place your quietness and unwillingness to even open up to him let him know you were shutting him away.

Turning away from him before you could see his reaction you walked to your car briskly hoping he’d just take his. It’d be far too awkward to share a vehicle now. Not after you just said that to him.

But you were sorely mistaken. You heard him following along. Not so close as to freak you out but close enough to where you knew he was there, “Keys.”

“I can drive myself.” You retorted irritated with him. He wasn’t listening and it was making you irrationally angry. Acting as if what you just said didn’t faze him.

“No, you really can’t. You’re upset and you really shouldn’t drive when you’re angry.”

Biting your cheek, you knew he was right. You placed your car keys into his outstretched hand. Refusing to look at him you walked to the passenger’s side contemplating sitting in the backseat knowing it’d cause more problems than it was worth. Sliding into the passenger’s side front seat you crossed your hands over your chest in disdain. Could he not say a single fucking thing? This was how you knew you were in deep. You cared way too much about this little pickle you’d gotten yourself into.

This time the ride was awkwardly silent as you looked out the window. Putting your address into the GPS without saying a word. Keeping your eyes locked on the world outside you let your thoughts take control.

The silence was broken when he finally said something. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts screaming at him, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He sighed bringing your eyes over to his. You couldn’t help but to look at him. You wanted him to say something but had no idea how to respond to this.

He continued before you could say anything, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m selfish with you. I know I can’t pursue you like I want to. Trust me, I want to.” He whispered the last part out. Almost afraid to admit it out loud. As soon as he does it becomes real.

He sighed again. Frustrated the words weren’t coming easy for him. Your soft eyes broke him down even further. He knew his next words would put a final nail in the coffin, for now at least, “If you weren’t on my team, we’d be having a very different conversation Y/N. Please believe that. I’m so sorry that I’ve been selfish… done and said things I shouldn’t have. I won’t do that anymore.”

You looked away biting your cheek as hard as you needed to stop the tears from flooding out of your eyes. Why was this so difficult? Why did you have to have feelings for the one fucking man you could never have?

He frowned knowing he had hurt you yet again. It was his own fault he had to keep hurting you and it stung knowing the tears in your eyes were a result of his actions. He kept bring you right back to him and he knew it. He wanted to stop. He needed to stop knowing just how fucked up what he was doing was. Especially now that he actively realized it after you so bluntly pointed out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I’ll figure something out.” He whispered out not knowing if you really heard him. He knew saying those last words were dangerous, likely to draw you right back into him.

It dawned on him that he simply couldn’t push you away anymore. It was beginning to hurt him. It had been hurting him already, he just hadn’t realized. That’s why he was always so flirtatious and open with you, he wanted it. His stupid head just didn’t let him know it yet. Not until he knew he was the reason for your tears. For your unsureness with him. He did this to you. He had to fix it.

He needed to be around you. He had to figure this out. He knew the only option was to find you another placement, but he’d come up short. There was plenty out there but nothing good enough for your abilities. So, he had to pass, for your sake. Time was running up. JJ was due back in the next few months too.

He had no other option than to go to Strauss. He hated it knowing he’d be obligated to her, but she’d find you a good place to land. Somewhere close at his request. That was absolutely necessary. Especially now since he knew your position, the imposition.

You heard him though. Loud and clear. Giving you whiplash yet again. You weren’t sure how clearer you could be to the man yet here he was saying all the right things. The words were slowly becoming meaningless to you. He got a little nervous not hearing you reply to him. At the next red light, he looked over seeing you looking out the window with all your attention, clearly ignoring him. He’d done it now. His own indecisiveness driving you right away. He knew if he didn’t do something soon, you’d move on from him.

“Y/N.” He touched your shoulder gently.

Turning to look at him you attempted to give him an expressionless face. A frown crossed over your features instead, “Yeah?” Your usual confident voice came out as weak, squeakier than normal. You hated that he affected you so easily. So deeply.

“Did you hear me?”

You sighed, “I did.”

He had to look forward after a car honked at him. Sitting a second too long as the green light, “Please say something, I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Okay.” You let out. You knew it would frustrate him, but you didn’t have any thoughts just yet. Your brain wanted to shut down instead of talking it out. You were tired of the same conversation with him. Only to be disappointed.

“Okay?” This time he let out a small, short sigh. Not in frustration at you but at himself. For being so blasé with you. Thinking he had it figured out with you but now knowing he had it so terribly wrong.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say Hotch.” You couldn’t use his first name. Not if you wanted to stop feeling this way. It’s like the two of you were so close, so damn close to figuring it out. But yet it felt nearly impossible. You were at a loss for words. Truly, had no idea what to say to the man that always seemed to be on your mind.

“I don’t want you to say anything you wouldn’t want to say Y/N. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

If he really wanted to know? Fine, “You’re so fucking confusing Hotch.” You blurted out placing your hands over your face while looking down at your feet. The car felt so small now, suffocatingly small as he pulled into your apartment complex, eyes now fully focused on you.

Nodding his head he loosened his tie, “I’m selfish and I’m sorry. I will figure this out. I promise you that.”

“Figure what out though? What is this? What are we? I can wait but I can’t wait forever.” Your eyes began welling up again. You hated that your response to any emotion seemed to be tears. Never in your life would you have imagined yourself in this situation. Crying over a

“Hey,” Gently, he placed a hand along your back hoping it’d bring you some peace, anything he could offer, “I like you beyond words Y/N. I’m sorry I’ve been too stupid to realize it. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you. You don’t know how bad I want to just say fuck it and kiss you right now but that’s not fair to you. Me saying that isn’t fair to you.”

You could hear your heart rate pick up as blood rushed throughout your entire body. He was actually torturing you now. For too long you’d had little daydreams fantasizing about the older man. What it’d be like at home, away from work, just the two of you and Jack. You’d met the little firecracker of a kid a few times over the last few months, he quickly took to you Aaron noticed. Just another reason why he liked you so much. You are a natural energy, drawing everybody in. It worked so easily on him he wasn’t surprised Jack liked you so much.

Giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, he continued, “I like you. I want to pursue you. I can’t until I know you have a job elsewhere.”

“A job elsewhere?” You too knew it was one of the only options, the only option. It just felt so foreign coming from his mouth. Not wanting to admit how fond you’ve grown of the team in your short tenure you dreaded having to prove yourself again to the next batch of colleagues.

He nodded, “Somewhere close. Where I’m not your boss.” His eyes searched for your as you dropped your hands. You hated to admit it but here you were, right back in his grasp, literally. The man had a strangle hold on you.

Head turning to his you leaned into his touch, “Are you sure?”

A small smile graced his face, “I should be asking you that Y/N. I don’t know what you see in me.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew the difficult part of the conversation was over. The awkward and uncomfortable air started to lift, “Shut up. You’re the whole package, Aaron.”

“I’m over fifteen years older than you.” Now it seemed Aaron was letting his insecurities out

You shrugged still so grateful he was still holding onto you, as if you’d vanish out of thin air if he let his hand go from your shoulder, “And?”

“Guys your age…”

“Guys my age suck. Remember? I’m running from one. Not so successfully.”

His smile faded quickly as he remembered exactly why he was here, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?” On high alert he hopped out of the car quickly walking to your side. Before you could be too disappointed with the loss of touch on your shoulder, he quickly wrapped you into his side. Slowing his pace down to keep up with you he kept checking his positions. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least not to you.

“Yeah, sure.” You replied knowing it’d drive him mad. Short answers like that pissed him off usually. But now you were using the same words you used earlier to dismiss him.

“Okay well now you’re just being difficult.” He smiled knowing you we’re playing with him. Another reason he had fallen so quickly for you. You weren’t afraid to throw it right back at him.

You bit your lip trying to stop the automatic smile that came to your face. You were being difficult, and you knew it. Catching a glimpse of you with his peripherals Hotch smiled too knowing he’d smoothed it over, at least for now.

Your phone vibrated as he locked the door behind himself. Your heart sunk as you read over

“Y/N?” You vaguely heard before handing the phone to him. He was watching you.

‘A new boyfriend, really?’

“I’m calling Garcia and that’s final. We’re done talking about it.” He didn’t yell but he definitely spoke with that Hotchner authority that scared the living hell out of nearly everybody.

The two of you had argued it out into the night and well into the morning before falling asleep on the couch, together. You’d fallen asleep first nuzzling your way right into his side. Not having the heart to move you, even after arguing back and forth for the previous four hours.

“It’s for your safety, Y/N. Please just understand that. It’s not just some silly little text anymore. This is serious.”

Letting out a sigh you nodded, “Fine.” You weren’t going to win this one. The man was seriously stubborn, even more so than you.

“Thank you.” He popped his phone out calling Garcia almost immediately. He excused himself to the other room. Finishing the oatmeal you’d made you quickly changed. He’d given the team the weekend off knowing that you’d all been on the road for the last few and needed a break.

Before too long he came back into the kitchen where you were cleaning up, “She’s looking into it, discreetly.”

You nodded, “Okay, can we got get some coffee or something? I don’t imagine you’ll let me spend this weekend alone?”

He shook his head, “No. Sorry, I know it wasn’t in your plans. My parents already picked up Jack. He’ll be there until they drop him off at school on Monday.”

“Plans change I suppose. I’m sorry you aren’t spending time with him. I know these weekends are precious.” A small pang of guilt ran through you. He was giving up his time with his boy for you. Willingly. You felt awful poor Jack. You’d taken his dad away for the weekend.

“Like you said, plans change.” He didn’t want to admit the little bit of excitement that came with the thought of spending a weekend with you even at the disappointment at his little guy.

“So, coffee?” You changed the subject back not wanting to dwell on the young boy.

He nodded, “Coffee sounds good. I’ll drive.” He went to grab your keys off the rack beating you to them.

“Don’t you need your car? And clothes?” You asked when you realized he was quite literally stranded here. It’s not like you had anything to give him to wear other than a few oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants.

“We’ll stop by my place on the way back.”

“Are we close?”

He nodded, “Relatively.”

Placing your order online the ride to the shop was uneventful. Both of you were scanning the surrounding cars for any sign of the man. It’s like he was in stealth mode.

His phone rang as he pulled in. It wasn’t like he could ignore it. He was SSA Aaron Hotchner after all. Walking inside you let him take the call from the car knowing it’d take you less than a minute to walk in and grab the order.

It should have been that quick. That was until you were cornered feeling a metallic blade press up against your hip bone. How in the fuck had he slipped past Hotch? How in the hell was he here? You smelled him instantly in that dreaded cologne.

“Y/N.” That voice you’d prayed you’d never have to hear again spoke out to you.

Trembling you knew you had to keep him distracted, “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Nice to see you, alive and well.” He chuckled knowing that’d bring you right back to the night he left you to die.

He was ignoring you. Nothing you could say or do would impact the situation at all. Looking around you cursed when the last customer left, and the barista sat on her phone. You could try and reach for your phone, but the man wasn’t stupid. He’d know exactly what you were up too. All you could do was stall now in hopes he would hurry up the call he was on.

“Can’t say the same.”

He gripped down on your arm. Oh, how you wanted to cry out in pain but you knew that’s exactly what he was looking for so you simply gave him the most blank expression you could muster. You had to psychologically beat the motherfucker. He had the physical advantage on you.

Lucky for you Hotch did wrap his call up quickly. You heard his gun click into place before you saw him out of the corner of your eye, “I’d suggest you let her go, now.”

“New boyfriends got a gun huh?”

This was your chance. If you had one, “I thought you did your research? You slipping up?” That’s all it took for him to throw you backwards into the table behind you. This got the attention of the barista whose eyes went wide seeing the confrontation and weapons out so openly. Your head knocked against the side of the table opening a new cut along the back of your skull. Sending you unconscious for a moment before your brain reset.

Aaron wanted to shoot, oh did he. But he knew his surroundings. Middle of the morning in suburbia wasn’t exactly the best place to unload a clip. So, he opted for the next best thing and tackled the inferior police officer before him knocking him down quickly sending the blade out of his grasp.

It was over before it started. You jumped to your feet not realizing your head was bleeding yet again from the man. Your head felt fuzzy as you spotted Aaron overtop your ex-fiancé handcuffing him easily enough. Aaron’s gun tucked back into his belt loop. You were so thankful that Aaron was okay.

Sirens rung out in the distance as you found a seat, head feeling heavy all over again.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked placing his hands on your head forcing your head to look at him gently.

“I’m fine. Did you get him?” You asked

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t even see him. It was Garcia. She was who I was on the phone with. Calling to warn. Fifteen seconds. Christ, are you okay?” He rambled ripping the jacket he had on placing it on the open wound.

“I’m fine Aaron. Just a little lightheaded. It’s okay. I’m okay.” You looked up at his panic-stricken face. He was obviously blaming himself for the entire predicament.

He pulled you up seeing the ambulance pull in. He wasn’t taking any chances as he found the EMT quickly, “Head wound. Loss of a lot of blood. She said she’s lightheaded.” The EMT nodded as he sat you down in the back of the rig.

“Let’s have a look. How bad does it hurt? Out of ten?”

“Like a three.” You smiled to the man as he checked you over. Pushing Aaron’s hand away as he was ready. Head wounds always looked a whole lot more traumatic than they actually were… at least that’s what you’d always been told.

“It’s okay if it hurts.” Aaron crouched down so he was level with you. Eyes scanning over your face for any discomfort.

“I’m a little offended you don’t believe me. This is only a three compared to what he’s put me through. Trust me.”

Aaron shuddered realizing just how horrifically you’d been abused by the man, “Alright, if you say so.” He knew you probably weren’t up to talking about it so he knew he likely needed to drop it.

“I say so.”

The EMT had managed to stop the bleeding enough to get a good look, “You’ll just need a butterfly bandage. No stitches. You did lose a lot of blood though. Are you able to stand?”

You smiled knowing it was almost over. Sure, he wasn’t dead, but he also wasn’t likely going to be free at the end of this all. You felt at peace knowing you could fully focus on yourself going forward and not be afraid around every turn, waiting for him to show back up.

You did manage to stand albeit a little woozy. Aaron wanted you to go to the hospital, but you knew you were fine. Maybe just needed that coffee and a nap now.

After giving statements and assuring Garcia you were both fine Aaron drove you back to your place. Assuring you that he’d be fine in your oversized clothing. He didn’t want to stop home. He just wanted you to be comfortable. He felt sick knowing what had went down could have been stopped. But he failed you.

He helped you all the way back up to your bedroom. You might’ve leaned on him a little harder than you really needed too but it was your chance and you sure as hell weren’t going to miss your opportunity. If he was going to be selfish then so were you.

“Aaron?” You asked before he walked away.

He turned looking down at you softly. So sweetly, “Yeah?”

“Can you stay? At least until I fall asleep. Then I’ll be fine.”

Smiling, he knew how much that took for you to ask, how uncomfortable it made you, “Of course. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Yeah?” You asked smiling as he slid in next to you.

“Yeah.” He waited for you to scootch up to him before he pulled you into him completely. You wanted to hate how good it felt but you couldn’t. It felt so right. So comfortable, “Sleep well.”

“Thank you, Aaron, for everything.” You yawned into his chest as you drifted off letting yourself get swallowed in his warmth.

He kept true to his word. When you opened your eyes after a few hours he was sitting there watching you.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” He turned his body towards you, scooting down so his face was level with yours.

“Good. Really good.” You smiled over at him.

He returned your smile, feeling a little bit better at your state, “Good. I’ve been thinking. I have an idea.”

Eyes flicking over to the man you’d become so quickly infatuated with you gave him a curious look, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“So, in a few months when JJ is ready to come back. What if a communications position in ViCAP were to open up? Could even be a promotion if you know the right people.” A small smirk danced over his lips as he studied your expression softly. He knew how harsh his gaze came off if he wasn’t too careful. He didn’t want to scare you off now that you were free for the first time in years.

Eyebrows raising in shock you studied his face. He was all business though, no jokes, “Really? The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program? Isn’t that like super exclusive?”

He shrugged pulling you closer. Taking that as an invitation you softly laid your head on his chest. Almost afraid that’d he’d change his mind on you. Want nothing to do with you. Your fears were null and void as Aaron brushed the stray strand of hair out of your face, “It might be. I’m partial to you staying with the team but that would make this terribly unprofessional.” He snaked his arm around your waist bringing your body as close to his as it could be.

A stupid little blush graced your cheeks feeling the desire of being wanted from such an incredible guy, “Aaron Hotchner. Did you pull some strings for me?”

A hesitant nod confirmed your suspicions, “Maybe a little. We couldn’t lose you at the BAU. You just wouldn’t be my employee anymore.”

“Sure.” You giggled laying your head back down, “Hypothetically I would say hell yes if that were offered to me. Hypothetically though.”

He nodded, that big beautiful Hotchner smile came out, just for you, “Hypothetically, noted.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence. Aaron absentmindedly began to brush through your hair. You hadn’t a clue how touchy the man really was, but you certainly weren’t complaining. You hummed feeling lulled by the steady motion of his hand, “Keep that up and I’m going to fall right back asleep.”

You felt the gentle chuckle that came from his chest, “That’s alright. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You smiled feeling all the love emitting from the man you liked far too much, far too quickly, “Wait, he’s in jail. I don’t really need to be staying here anymore.” You opened your eyes fearfully. A little pissed at yourself for bringing that up.

An immediate frown formed as he processed what you said, “I’ll stay as long as you need me. As long as you want me.”

“Thank you Aaron.” Watching him he nodded as he watched you. The two of you simply studying the other. One profiler and one wannabe profiler studying the situation.

“I’d do it again for you.”

You were at a loss for words. This was the Aaron you adored. The one who wasn’t afraid to tell the truth. To get uncomfortable with you as you learned the other. It was the beginning of something wonderful and he was diving headfirst into it. But he was making sure you were ready before pulling you in with him. He didn’t want you to drown.

“I like you so much Aaron.” You admitted, “Far too much. These last few months have been some of my favorite yet. And you were only my boss. My friend.” You let out the breath that you’d been holding in. His softness, the closeness, his smell all overwhelmed you into admitting it.

A soft hand pulled your face to look back at his, “I like you far more than I should as well. We’ve got to keep this quiet for a few months. Then I’m taking you on the best date you’ve ever been on.”

You smiled brightly relieved that he was feeling the exact same way, “Yeah?”

“If you want, that is.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s great!” You grinned laying your head right backdown on his chest.

He nodded smiling just as widely as you, “It’s a date then.”

“It’s a date.”

Taglist: @senjoritanana @ssaddyhotchner @realdirectionx @mojo366 @2234world @tonys-bitch @gspenc @life-of-music3 @topguncultleader @whyislenaluthorsohot @givemeth @alex-1967s-blog @montyfandomlove @roastyyytoastyyy @rousethemouse @idkkkwhy @wonderinglostsoul @comfortzonequeen @dankfarrick29 @fictionalwhorehouse @somekindacrackhead

[maikissed]

and the day after that, and day after that part 3

jude bellingham x reader in honor of this a-hole for scoring tonight and winning la liga (scandalous, cuz i'm a barca fan, don't jump at me) i'm turning sloppy with these continuations, not a fan of this one tbh. but i hope you'd like it a bit sorry for typos

! sexy times here

Blissful, sharply clutching at your heart but making you light in your limbs, almost tingling at the skin of your neck and your chest as you focused on it. But when you lingered there, trying to catch it to correctly define it, it stumbled you over, crushed everything in it’s path, like a sudden wave sinking you down, with the great power to swallow you whole. Something so gentle and delicate turning into a potent and striking feeling of absolute infirmity. The funniest and trickiest thing about these sensations was that they turned, switching places, changing their courses, making you fall and fall all over again. Like at the end of it, at the moment when the sweet feeling was supposed to end for the other, the more prominent one, to take place, you took a minuscule step and stumble. Fell into it. An elation. That how you’d call it, you realised, as you noticed your chest rising sharply under your sight. Your eyes on him this whole time, innocently observing him making a simple conversation with his friends just few meters away. He smiled at something and it took you a short moment to realise that the corner of your mouth rose a little too at the sight. That’s when he looked back at you, his bright smile turning into a more tender one when he caught your eyes. And those mad stirs fumbling inside of you turned violent so unexpectedly, tickling, no, hitting you in your gut, making you almost stop breathing.

He winked at you then. And your smiled turned bigger. You reached for your phone.

still can’t wink, mate

You watched his expression change as he read your message. A smirk slowly appearing on his face.

Yeah? Can see you blush from here

You chuckled to yourself, biting your lip as you typed a response. Placing your phone back on your thigh you waited.

take me home?

It didn’t take him long to approach you, of course. His hand extended to you to help you stand.

There were boundaries set at the very beginning of the new course you decided to take your relationship on. You had been indisputably terrified of many repercussions that might came if you made a mistake. Still not many knew, it was just Mia, really, but your trip to Madrid has already spoke volumes. At least you suspected it has. Wanting to take it as slow as you can you put the boy in a constant state of suffering, denying him too much physical contact in these last few months. You perceived it wise, he considered you cruel.

“Want something to drink?” Jude asked as you entered the saloon.

“I’d love some lemon water” you answered softly, taking your shoes off “Iced, if you please”

“Yes ma’am”

You sent him a playful smile, heading to the balcony. Of course one fell quickly in love with the pleasant weather in this country. Though the midday heat was a lot for you, you enjoyed the still lukewarm, now almost refreshing breeze coating you after the sunset. You hummed at the contact of your bare feet with the still warm tiles, resting on one of the chairs.

“Don’t rock on your chair” you could hear Jude’s voice when he joined you, your head thrown back as you succumbed to a peaceful night coating you soothingly.

You smiled at his reprimand. Then you heard him placing your glasses on the table, and then you loosed your balance. A sharp yelp left your throat at the feeling of falling, but when you opened your eyes you spotted Jude’s wide, playful smile centimetres from your face, his hand at the back of your chair. You gasped quickly realising he tricked you, pulling the chair further back. And of course it wasn’t the first time you let him fool yourself like that.

“You prat!” you swat at his hand and he just laughed at your reaction.

“Oh is it so funny?” you jumped from your sit to throw more punches his way.

“Yeah, your little squeak was ridiculous” your eyes widened at his comment.

You swung your hand with intention to hit his bicep once again but he blocked it before you could reach it, grasping your wrist in is grip. Being stupid enough you brought your other hand to action but he captured it too, stopping your attack altogether. When your heart slowed down a little you just huffed, feeling laughter filling your lungs as well. This time you didn’t stop to consider, simply leaning in to kiss him on the lips sweetly, your hands still in his hold, close to your head. But you had no intention to continue, pulling away from him when he begun to chase you.

“What?” he laughed and you beamed at the joyful glint in his eyes “You consider this a payback?”

“Yes, I always win, Bellingham”

“Oh, we’ll see about that” he lowered your hands but still kept his fingers wrapped around your wrists.

With a gentle push he forced you to step back and a chuckle left your lips uncontrollably when your back collided with the railing behind you.

“What are you doing? You’re not getting a kiss this way or another” you said feeling him stepping into you, the closeness fogging your brain just a tad.

“I’ll take it different way then” he bit back with a smirk and you hummed with a sneer.

You flinched and giggled when he started peppering barely there kisses on the skin of your neck. And when you curled your neck to make this task difficult for him, and because of the reason that his nose quickly following the trace of his lips on your skin made you incredibly ticklish, he let go of your left hand, using his fingers to remove one of the straps of the dress you were wearing. So when he reached your collarbone he slowed down, using his tongue at the swell of your breast that appeared after the top of your clothing slipped lower. He took his time, you realised with a deep breath, moving to the other side. The feeling of a scrape of his teeth on your shoulder surprised you, so you looked down to spot him biting on the material of the other strap of your dress, slowly dragging it down your arm. You giggled.

“I’m happy to keep you entertained” he murmured between kisses he caressed your skin with on his way up.

“Oh, I love watching your attempts” you bickered.

A bright blink in his even darker eyes made you shiver and you were mesmerized. Your eyes glued to his beautiful face, full lips just slightly parted, all his attention on you.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked “You look a little breathless, love”

Something in your chest squished at the way he accented the sweet little name he called you and you swore to hell you blushed right now. You could feel your cheeks heating up. What were you? Twelve? Maddening, at this point.

And any words you wanted to voice out, you didn’t even remember them, died at your tongue as you realised his hands were lower now, slowly grabbing another fold of your long summer dress to reach your skin underneath. You anticipated, focusing on the sensation of light air kissing another part of your legs as the material rose up with another grasp of his hands. You blinked, keeping your eyes keen and hard in contact with his when his fingers reached the delicate skin on your thighs. He hummed, content with the feeling, bringing his attention back to your neck and chest.

“Suddenly so quiet now” he muttered into your skin.

“’m waiting for something interesting” breathless, indeed.

That’s when his hands glided up to sharply grab your bum, pressing you tight against him, the feeling of his hard on prominent on your stomach. And the movement met with the lick of his tongue in the valley between the top of your breast. You moaned grabbing the railing behind you with one hand, the other placed on the crook of his neck. So when he kissed your throat you opened your mouth for him, ready, wanton for him to kiss you now. He did, and it was rough and forceful and you loved it. With a quick grip on your thigh he hiked up your leg to rest highly on his hip, the skin uncovered now. You rose slightly on your left feet, searching for him, yearning for the right contact. He groaned into your mouth when you pressed against him, using your pelvis and your right leg now, almost wrapped around him. You worried for a moment that someone could see you this unveiled since you were out in the open. The property was well separated, but there still were neighbours in some distance and even worse, Denise on the other side of he villa.

“Ah, fuck” he sighted against your lips “Aren’t you a delight?”

You would answer to that, but he didn’t let you, using his hand placed on your lower back to press on you harder, grinding against you, and you whined pitifully, closing your eyes in the meantime. Chasing the pleasant feeling to wash over you. Your hands started wandering, slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, his muscles hard under your touch.

“Will you let me tonight? Will you let me fuck you tonight?” he mumbled when you pressed your chest against him, your lips centimetres away.

Your eyes opened, a little smirk dancing on your lips when your fingers grazed delicately his skin, just above the button of his pants.

“Take me to bed, Jude”

[faeriekit]

sorry I need to lose my mind for a couple paragraphs:

THIS old man is WHITEPASSING.

So, if you're wondering how the hell this dude is Whitepassing, please note that this is restricted to a single comics run rather than All Alfreds in the Known Multiverse™. Anyway, I was reading the Dark Knights of Steel vol 2 of my own accord (and against the better judgement of friends) because I apparently enjoy suffering when I got the to the "Alfred has secretly been J'onn J'onezz the whole time" schtick and my brain turned clean off.

Because. Implications.

To start, when they draw J'onn as himself as opposed to his "Alfred" disguise:

J'onn is still drawn with what look like typically "Black" features, albeit with a few Martian overtones: high cheekbones, a broad face, a flat, wide nose. His "Alfred" form is distinctly differently structured with a narrow face, sharp nose, etc etc. Couple that with a backstory explicitly referencing escaping from a war and attempted enslavement, this is a pretty strong attempt at an allegorical Black alien, even if, uh, you know. It's also Alfred. (And yes this is all ignoring that J'onn is usually portrayed as Black; I just wanted to see if his allegorical Blackness still held up in this particular comic run.)

And there's a lot to be said here about the long and storied history of having black caregivers raise privileged white children and the racism embedded therein but that's not what's happening!! As far as I've gotten (and this is as far as reading vol 2 of the dark knights of steel compendium, and only vol 2), Alfred did stay beside Bruce ever since Bruce's parents kicked the bucket, but.

No one else knew "Alfred" was a nonhuman.

Not Bruce. Not his friends (if he has any). Not his fellows in the army, nor anyone else in the entire world— because due to the inherent prejudice of the setting, everyone he knew would quite possibly turn their back on him or turn him in if his true history was revealed. The world at large was prejudiced against him and non-humans like him, and the solution was to hide or otherwise obscure both history and origin so that he could move freely without repercussions. Even Bruce in this run, the only guy "Alfred" is with at all times, is shown to be prejudiced against non-humans and explicitly hostile. Hiding is shown to be not just necessary, but the only surefire way to survive the Plot™.

So, uh. Just to make sure everyone is on the same page, do y'all know what Whitepassing is...? Ever since White people started bringing slavery to the shores of the new world in the 1600s, people were pretty quick to discover that as long as you were born light enough, people would no longer harass you for doing dangerous and scary things like wanting to own property or to stop being held captive and forced to do hard labor or wanting to keep your own kids. It was easy to do! Provided, of course, that you could 1) escape your circumstances in some manner, 2) give up every person you ever knew, including all friends, family, and references to thereof, and 3) pretend you're someone else for the rest of your life without ever breaking your own cover.

You may be thinking, wow, this sounds horrible and traumatizing! Sure does, and that's because it is! But it's a pretty well-known part of the Black community even today, because if you could pass, you had an infinitely better chance at making enough money to live. You could feed your kids. You could save up to own your own home. You could get a career that didn't physically break you down or disable you.

Passing is giving yourself as good a chance to live as anyone else could ever get, and all it costs is everyone and everything you've ever known. Of course people chose to pass. Of course people choose to pass even here and now.

And you know what? As soon as J'onn reveals his nature, someone close to the throne takes advantage of the knowledge to immediately kill him. Fucked up. It's notable that, in some way or form, J'onn J'onzz, Martian man from outer space, is always human-passing, but the sheer implications of being explicitly depicted as Whitepassing, even if only accidentally, blew my brain clean open.

Imagine passing in a world completely foreign to you. You don't know their customs. You don't know their language at first. You have to learn to adapt. You can't say your true name or show your true face, or everyone will know who you are— what you are. Eventually, you learn to let people close to the mask you've made, but you can never relax with them; you can say your wife is dead, but they cannot hear her name, or they will Know. You can tell them your child died in your arm, but you can't tell them where, or when, or why.

You raise a child to adulthood. They do not know your true form, and you pray they never will.

You tell them the name appropriate for their society, and that is what they call you.

Anyway. This old man is Whitepassing. I feel so bad for him.

(It's important to note that while this part of the storyline doesn't seem to go anywhere that wasn't plot relevant, that somehow didn't stop it from manifesting in the middle of this medieval aliens comic. Which. Wow. What a move.)

[sunnie-angel]

Part 8: The New Normal

part 7 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x fem!reader

summary: both you and jason struggle with defining your new normal in the wake of your changed friendship

tags: angst, mentions of offscreen violence

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.2k

a/n: with this chapter we officially cross 20k words (whoops). i dropped quite a few hints about future developments in this chapter, i wonder if you'll find them all.

Jason’s never felt so bitter about successfully achieving something. The taste of it curdles in his mouth, sour and heavy. He’d known that amputating his heart would hurt but this? This was worse. It was bloodless and toothless and the worst thing he’s ever done to himself. To you. You’re friends now. Friends! No lasting repercussions to having what he wanted. Shockingly, no lasting repercussions for fucking up his secret identity either. He’s gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? 

He’d known, in that half-abstract kind of way that Talia had taught him, that if he had been earnest enough and insistent enough on the idea of friendship he’d be able to end the conversation there. No questions about why he had kissed you a second time. No scathing comments about how desperate he had been to know what you tasted like. He wouldn’t have to explain himself, or all of his messy inconvenient feelings, to you. Friends. Easy as that. 

Or at least that’s what he tells himself, walking in to face you. He’d know your footsteps anywhere and the just sound of them sets his senses on edge. All of his focus narrows down to you, hyperawareness kicking in. Jason doesn’t take any notes in class, can barely hear the sound of the professor speaking over you fidgeting next to him. To think his biggest worry a few months back had been if he would pass his courses. He can’t shake this fog, but he’s terrified of letting on just how gone he already is. Leaves a respectful three inches of space between the two of you through lunch that he obsessively maintains through Will telling some story about actually getting hit by a car over the weekend that Jason could care less about. He doesn’t breathe fully until the two of you are walking out of your last joined class of the day, cold air burning with every breath. He can do this.

“Can I– may I walk you home?” he asks uncertainly.

“Oh so you finally ask permission, huh?” you tease, and it’s the first thing he’s heard properly all day. Maybe it comes out sharper edged than he’s used to you directing at him, but it’s so close to resembling the easy camaraderie of the early days that he will take it.

“I was actually listening to your lecture on privacy,” Jason somehow finds the strength to sass back. 

“You can take the bus with me and walk me to my building door but that’s it. I already talked to the super about changing the door code.” Jason knows. He watched the super change it yesterday. 

“Just to the building. Scouts honour,” he says, drawing an x over his heart. 

When it comes to normal, Jason Todd sucks at pretending to be it. Or maybe you’ve just learned to read him too well. A space – not just literal but physical – exists between you now. He doesn’t sit right anymore, shoulders tensing up when you sit down next to him an only relaxing when you make no move to lean into him. He walks a full foot away now, no more arms accidentally brushing. He still keeps you fed – let it never be said that a friend of Jason’s goes hungry – but your fingers never brush as he hands containers over. Messages dwindle, text threads drying up. You can bear all of that, you can. It’s almost like the distant but friendly relationship you have with Will or half of your fellow interns. No, it’s the part where almost a week later, Jason still won’t look you in the eye. 

It would be so easy to dismiss everything else as growing pains, the both of you testing and reassessing where the new lines have been drawn. This isn’t that. Jason has drawn a line and it’s one that feels like a cut every time you brush up against it. These days there’s a tension in your jaw that you didn’t carry  before. Magically it appears whenever Jason chooses a particularly interesting patch of paint on the wall behind you to stare at instead of meeting your gaze. You think you hide the way your hands clench in your lap pretty well. You laugh and joke, exclaiming over Lina’s one liners, asking Rei about his next swim meet, and gasping in all the right places over Will’s sprained wrist. Keeping up the appearance of normalcy is tiring in a way that it hadn’t been before.  So your smiles are a little more forced than they were before, so what? The two of you are still friends and no one else is any wiser. 

There’s a Rogue attack, close enough to campus that it goes into lock down for the first time this semester. One second you’re following Jason’s broad back cutting a swathe through the frightened crowd of students to the muster location and then suddenly he’s gone. It doesn’t matter how quickly you crank your head to the side, he’s just vanished. Again. You spend the whole two hours huddled up in the auditorium glued to your phone as you watch the Red Hood fight Black Mask over a shitty news helicopter live stream. You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, have practically become numb to the sirens and the drills for the worst that the city has to offer, but not today. Today your heart is in your mouth as you watch Jason take a blow to the head and go reeling across your phone screen. Breathing shakily, you realize that if he were to die – now – you’d never get to tell him just how fully he’s made a home for himself in your life, in your chest.

Obligingly, Jason doesn’t die today. Instead he pops up in the auditorium just as the all clear to evacuate has been sounded, ruefully explaining the mark on his cheek to your friends as the result of a panicking freshman’s fist. He’s a good liar you notice, through the hazy adrenaline rush of he’s alive, he’s alive pounding through your skull. 

Later that night lying in bed, you stretch your hand up, observing the way the light from passing cars cuts across your palm. You should probably do something about the shutters that don’t close right onto the fire escape but there’s always a thousand other things clamouring for attention. Besides, on nights like this when your thoughts turn in on themselves and sleep is a distant memory, the glow of the world outside provides a kind of comfort to you. No matter how bad things seem, life rumbles ever onwards. So what if every time you struggle with the keys to the front door it’s because you get lost in the memory of the one bright moment when it seemed like you could finally keep Jason? He’s not here now. The sheets have been washed – twice – but sometimes in that hazy place between sleeping and waking you swear you can still smell him. You think about the last time Jason had smiled at you, real and true and so sweetly uncomplicated. Your hand balls up into a fist and you cradle it to your chest. Maybe you suck at pretending everything is normal too.  

You must, because two weeks later, Danika corners you at one of your Wednesday study sessions. The student union is busy, tables full of students finally starting to realize exams are fast approaching with all the unwavering care of a freight train. 

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?” she asks, just as you’re getting up.

“D’you mind if we talk and walk? I’m dying for caffeine and my stamp card says the next cup is free at The Grind,” you reply distractedly, digging your wallet out of your bag. 

“Oh you know I’m always down for a little snack,” she says, but there’s a note to her intonation that you can’t parse. 

The line for the coffee shop is long, but moving fast. You don’t notice anything off until you look up from struggling to extricate your membership card from your wallet, soft card stock folding under you nails. Danika is tugging at her hair as she stands next to you, twirling the strands tight around her finger until the circulation cuts off, the way she only does when she’s nervous and building up to something. 

She takes a deep breath and asks, “Are you and Jason, like, okay?” ripping the bandaid off.  

“I– why would you ask me that?” you deflect, scrambling to figure out where, exactly, your performance had faltered. The line surges forward, carrying the two of you along with it.

“Just, the last week or so something’s been off between you two. You know how you’re so obviously his favourite and he forgets the meaning of ‘personal space’ but only around you and he’s always–”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you struggle to cut her off. “It can’t be that bad, he’s good friends with all of us.”

“I’m pretty sure that whenever you start speaking the rest of us turn invisible or something,” Danika says wryly. “But the last week or so the vibes have just been off. He’s even less talkative than usual and I have been this–” she pinches her fingers together, pink nails catching the light “–close to recommending you a better concealer. So did you guys fight or something? Because you can tell me, you know.” She looks at you with wide, earnest eyes. “Because it doesn’t matter what it’s about, I’m on your side. If you wanna drop him as a friend, we’ll all do it no questions asked.”

“No, we uh, we didn’t fight but hold that thought okay?” you reassure her, before hurrying through your order as quickly as you can. Danika’s already standing by the pickup counter, finger still twisting in her hair.

“Or like, if you need a body buried the two of us could definitely take him,” she offers.

“We didn’t fight, okay? I’m serious. And while I’m happy that you’d hide a body for me, it’s really, honestly, not necessary. Me and Jason are fine,” you reassure her. The high neck of your sweater feels too tight.

“Alright so we don’t go all Gone Girl on him but whatever happened hurt you and I don’t like it when my best friend is hurting. Whatever it is I’m not gonna tell anyone, not if you don’t want me to,” she says, suddenly turning earnest again. 

“Jesus, it was nothing okay? It’s just, do you remember that night we all went out after Thanksgiving?” you offer up.

“The night where we were all taking bets on if Jason would make a move before or after the club?” she chimes in. 

“You were what?!” you hiss, heart stuttering and palms suddenly damp. 

“I’m kidding! Kidding!” she says with a laugh. “Sorry, you were just getting so wound up, I wanted to bring the mood up a bit. We didn’t actually bet on it. We did talk about though, before you both got there.”

You bite your lips, weigh up how much truth you want to tell. The barista calls out your order and you’re thankful for the extra moment to gather yourself.

“I was drunk and I tried to kiss him, okay?” She gasps. “And then he shut that shit down. He made it really, really clear that we were only ever gonna be friends,” you finish, gulping down your tea to cover for your embarrassment and immediately burning your tongue. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s close enough without having to debride the festering wound you still haven’t made peace with. 

“Wait you’re sure that’s what he said? Absolutely no chance of anything?” Danika seems stunned. “I could swear there’s no way whatever you two have going on is platonic.” 

“Kinda hard to misinterpret the whole ‘that was a bad idea let’s just stay friends speech’. I wasn’t drunk enough to forget that.” You study your drink with false interest. 

“Oh. Oh I’m sorry,” she says, the kind of soft that she almost never is. “He’s an idiot if he doesn’t realising exactly what he’s missing out on.” Danika reaches out and rubs your shoulder. “We’ll find you someone else that’s way, way hotter and makes better life choices. Until then, he’s on thin fucking ice.”

“This is all my shit, yeah? Leave him be, we’ll figure it out and this’ll all blow over,” you warn her. There’s a certainty to your words that you definitely don’t feel. But Jason shouldn’t be punished for the crime of not returning your affection and so you’ll just have to learn how to fake normalcy better. “Plenty of more fish in the sea or whatever. I’ll get over him.”

“Fine, but I’m gonna trust you to tell me if you don’t,” she says, linking your arm through hers. The two of you head back to the group, weaving your way through outstretched legs and scattered bags littering the space between tables. There’s a kind of comfort in having your charade seen through by someone that cares enough to ask. It won’t do in the long run, but this stutter step with Jason won’t last forever. 

“Hey you’re still living in the Alley right?” Danika asks offhandedly, sliding back into the booth.

“Haven’t moved since first year, Dani.”

“Just be careful, then, okay? I saw on the news that there’s been more muggings in that area.” 

You almost choke on your tea. “Yeah okay, I’ll avoid any muggers,” you croak. Jason’s eyes burn a hole into the side of your head.

part 9

[hayatoseyepatch]

Description: A birthday confession with Hajime Umemiya ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡ Character:Hajime Umemiya Word Count:1K Contains: Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya. Fluff.

Authors Note: This is just a little belated birthday drabble for @littleplantfreak I hope you had an amazing day!! Also, again congrats on 100 followers Mari, that's such a big milestone and I'm so proud of you!! So please have some Ume to celebrate

(❀ •̀ᴗ•́ )♡

Umemiya could remember the first birthday of yours you had both spent together vividly. He had spent the better part of the morning scrubbing every viable surface in his apartment in preparation for your arrival. Umemiya was acutely aware of his feelings for you. His heart raced and cheeks flushed in your presence. He knew exactly what that meant. He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he knew. Umemiya wasn’t the best cook, not by any means. He could grow just about any plant you could think of, however, preparing it? He was hopeless. When you had mentioned your love for cooking while perusing the garden shop you both often frequented, he had jumped at the opportunity to invite you over so you could both cook together to celebrate your day.

The mere domesticity of the action leading to him daydreaming about coming home to you after a long day. The two of you next to each other cooking in your kitchen after a long day. Or dancing in the sunlight, your flourishing garden in the backdrop where he would pull you by your wrist, twirling you and gliding along to an invisible song, looking into your eyes before dropping to one kn-

He jumped at the sound of your raps on his door, called back to reality. Clearing his throat to shake the nervousness, he makes his way to the door, impossible to keep the grin from his face upon seeing you. He returns the hug you give him relishing in your touch, eyes closed as he takes in the warmth of your embrace, fighting back the whine that had bubbled in his throat at the loss of you when you pull away. He had ushered you into his apartment, leading you to the kitchen where the groceries sat. “I double and triple-checked the list you sent me, so hopefully everything is there!” He beamed, watching as you hopped up on the counter to pull up the recipe. Sending him that smile that makes his heart beat in his ears as you returned the expression. Teasing him with a “Look we are the same height now pretty boy.”

“I still think I still have some height on ya, sunflower.” His face had been so hot at the petname, he was sweating at this point. Trying not imagine being between your legs, resisting the urge to walk over there and rest his hands on your hips, to pull you towards him and do everything he had ached to do for the better part of the last year since he had met you. Little did he know that was just the beginning of the cracks forming in his resolve. He tried desperately to pay attention to the words coming from those glossy lips of yours. Not even noticing he had begin to inch closer and closer to you. Simply humming every now and then as you spoke.

Umemiya was strong, both physically and mentally, though he was a hairline away from placing a large hand on the small of you back, dipping you romantically with one hand on the back of your neck to keep you steady as he finally, finally placed his lips over yours. As he had said before, he often found himself dazing off, daydreaming these scenarios while in your presence. But it wasn’t until your hands moved to grip the soft material of his sweater that he had realized he was no longer daydreaming. He was feeling the plush of your soft lips against his own, a feeling he had craved from the moment he had first laid his eyes on you. He sighs through his nose in contentment, the boundary had already been crossed, and you weren’t pulling away so he was going to enjoy this while he could. He would deal with the repercussions of his actions after the fact. His lips do try chasing yours when you pull away, though looking down at you with large hopeful eyes at the delicate touch you graced him with when cupping his cheek. Looking down at the surprised expression that dawned you beautiful features when he opened his eyes. Smiling sheepishly as he takes your hand in his own. Kissing your knuckles as he begins to speak.

“I know that may have seemed sudden, but I want you to know it was anything but spontaneous. I have been thinking and dreaming of doing that from the moment I first heard your laughter fill my ears. From the second I saw you smile at me for the first time.” He smiles, his eyes softened with adoration as he presses his forehead against yours. “Sunflower, you mean more to me than words could ever possibly say. If you don’t feel the same I’ll understand but I need you to know. You are the first thing on my mind when I open my eyes every morning and the very last thing I think of before falling asleep. You run circles in my mind constantly. I’m surprised Hiragi hasn’t strangled me for having to listen to me speak of you endlessly.” He laughs delicately, kissing your knuckle once more as his eyes gaze longingly into your own.

“So, honeybee, I know I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself.. but would you consider being mine?” The look In his eyes was hopeful, heart racing in his ears as he waited with bated breath for your response. It was his turn to be surprised when you surged forward lips captured his own. He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as he felt you nod, relaxing into your embrace. And as his arms wrapped around your smaller form, mentally cursing himself for how long it had taken him to make this jump. Hajime Umemiya had finally found his home, and that was right here in your arms. And years later he would find himself in a similar position, gazing lovingly in your eyes as you both celebrated yet another one of your birthdays. His heart racing in his chest as he thumbed the small velvet box in his pocket.

Dividers by saradika-graphics. Writing & character banner by me.

[ay0nha]

Idle Hands | Chef Luca

SUMMARY: Sometimes Luca wished he chose rivalry over admiration. But even if he had, you wouldn’t allow it. You would never go back to that world. It was far too demanding; you couldn’t thrive where you didn’t belong. 

PAIRING: Chef!Luca x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

WARNINGS: mentions of eating/food, straight fluff, mutual pining, smidge of angst, Luca trying to poach reader for his restaurant, self indulgent, **I am not a chef nor a good cook** etc. 

A/N: I wrote this in one sitting on my phone, so mind the typos and lack of cohesion.  I didn’t think I would finish this, so also mind the rushed ending. Inspired some by things in Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential (he’s my idol). I’m interested in writing more, send some thoughts my way about Chef Luca. Enjoy.

The fog seemed idyllic. It was dense with humidity and carried the dawn light over the horizon better than the days prior; the rain was starting to get to you. It punctured your routine with puddles that were unavoidable and time that allowed your items to go stale because of a slow-trafficked day.

What had gone unnoticed during those days, and frankly underappreciated, was the space the weather provided. You had moved so quickly, your keys almost slipping from your hands as you bustled into the bakery, trying to keep dry. Yet, now your steps were paced by your exhaustion, only stopped by him.

Luca.

He knew better than to bring you coffee, the gesture acting more as an insult to your sleep schedule than a remedy to your dark circles. Instead, he was early, leaning against the brick wall of the bakery, waiting for you. Punctuality was just shy of being an aphrodisiac.

The cooking life was like a long love affair, with moments both sublime and ridiculous. Yet, like any love affair, looking back, you seemed to cling to the happy times the best—the things that drew you in in the first place, the things that kept you coming back for more.

Luca understood this well. Conscious or not, it hadn’t mattered; he indulged just the same. It was why he set on the stoop, day after day, only skipping out when the weather begged him to. Regardless he returned to you, waited for you, and deferred to you, even when his purpose was to poach you.

“I’m starting to lose count—” You refused a greeting. He blocked your journey to becoming a morning person. “—how many days does it take to be qualified as a stalker?”

Luca tutted teasingly, pushing through to find your humor. “Not quite eligible yet.”

“Shame.” You hummed, your key cracking open the rusted door. The click was becoming too screechy to ignore. The rain only proved further repercussions.

Noted. Fingers crossed, a handyman would be looking for something delectable on their break. Just as Luca came to expect your dry humor, you learned his body language just as well. Holding open the door you just unlocked, he held back the offer to repair it.

“Rumor has it you found your sous.” Your voice carried well through the echoing building. It was a small place, barely worth what you pay to keep it open.

Your fingers were stiff from the cold.  You cursed the winter and how it made you physically fumble for the months it endured. It was as though your body rejected how it influenced you. Yet, once your fingers found the light switches, you retracted your afflictions.

“He’s temporary.” Always a man of few words. Pointed and punctual.

“And he knows that?” You scoffed, scarf still muffling your words ever so slightly.

Your back was to him as your question lingered. Luca’s gaze admired your routine, the one he memorized as if each layer of clothing was a recipe in itself. You always saved your scarf for last as if it the way it twirled was an old-fashioned caramel drizzle on a forbidden apple.

“Everyone knows I want you.” He said deftly. Even with your back to him, you were sure he could picture your flattered, flustered features. “...He’s good. Young.”

“Mmm…” You mused, facing him. A part of you was convinced Luca would stop coming by once he’d found his counterpart. But his dissatisfaction still radiated off of him. “How long do you think he’ll last?”

“Depends.” Luca matched your tone. Young meant talent, but it also meant naive. “When do you plan to join me?”

Your laugh was let out as a breath—its presence small but worth it. “Luca—

“I’ll give it a rest.” His promise wouldn’t last very long, but it would do.

Luca reached for the apron that he had donned as his own. He reached the shelves you struggled with, learning within days through observation where to place that for when you finally mosied over. He was envious of your movements, how you found joy in moving slowly, so unrushed and unbothered to the point of pleasure.

It was strange the routine formed. It was just as unorthodox as the relationship. But within the culinary world, nothing was off-limits. There was a vague beginning to the friendship, another fitting mark. You were a friend of a friend that knew a guy. And you were the one that’s rumors claimed you were better than him.

Sometimes Luca wished he chose rivalry over admiration. But even if he had, you wouldn’t allow it. You would never go back to that world. It was far too demanding; you couldn’t thrive where you didn’t belong. You liked when your hands were layered with flour to lay out your dough. To stir a glaze in just the right way so that there was enough for an extra taste. It was you and the stillness without the adrenaline-filled demands.

The quiet of working side by side, the soft clinking of metal sheets and ceramics, was the perfect white noise. The simple patter of packed flour being muddled with oil was far better than the tourists that invaded your senses. You couldn’t decide if it was a welcomed distraction.

“What do you think?” He respected hierarchy. It was perfect. But you valued the imperfections of each unique item.

“Hmm?” You looked to your side. Luca was close; the small layout allowed for it.

“Try it.” He slid the plate to you.

Routines were hard to break. Every morning you skipped breakfast, it wasn’t until your stomach rumbled would you realize you were hungry. Luca learned you loved things sickly sweet, just shy of making your mouth pucker.

You worked alone often; you hadn’t needed the company nor the help. However, the pair of hands that steadied themselves on your hips to pass by made you question your need. It made you question if the warmth that spread through your body was from him or from the oven pre-heating near your knees. It would have been easy to doubt it all if there hadn’t been a ghost print of flour on your black apron.

“Go on…” Luca returned, pushing a found spoon into your hands. “Give me your worst.”

You rolled your eyes. He knew it was good. You knew it was good. The first spoonful was annoyingly satisfying. You maintained your breath through the second bite. If you went for a third, you knew Luca’s ego would soar.

The extra hands were helpful, but you refused to let the aid blind his purpose. So, you deflected, pointing the spoon to him.“I’m sure it’ll sell.”

Luca’s lips played with a frown. You were good at reminding him that his so-called sweetness could cross over into becoming a chore. His thick skin was scarred, burned, and continually tested.  You had the skill to crawl under it and almost get to him.

Accepting the utensil, he tasted his own creation. “It’s missing something.”

“Yeah?” You weren’t shy about plucking your finger into the cream filling for another taste. “What are you thinking?”

There it was, his earlier promise broken. With just a look, you knew what he was thinking; you. It was a tacky way to beg again for you to work with him; it was why he only gave you a look. One that was brief and gone before you could say anything before returning steely.

“Increase the fat content.” You advised, breaking your gaze. It was a test, and you were well aware you passed. It was textbook. Again, you’d proven your mind was in tune with his. “Cut it with acidity.”

He nodded, inked arms crossed against his chest. Luca lacked  the asinine chef bravado. A welcome reprieve. Self-assured, steady, and strong. Your eyebrows pinched when he stumbled slightly, drawing in a breath to say something just to let the words die. It was out of character, a side to him you didn’t believe existed. He seemed nervous.

“It’ll be ready in a few weeks.” His words seemed to settle finally.

“Ah…” You wiped your hands on your chest, reaching for the next thing. The beauty in baking was constantly moving. Even when your patience was being tested while things rose, there was always another something to work on. “...I forgot how much modernist cuisine attracts attention.”

New items meant new clients. New reviews and new criticism. You continued to assure him, chatting softly of what snobs people could be when they were filled with only ignorance. You meant to ease his apprehension, but you realized it had nothing to do with hosting an event.

It had to do with the invitation that flew from his lips. “Think you’re free that night?”

[rahuratna]

He's got the look

Part 1: Hitting like a Hammer

Content: crack, humour, fluff. Gojo being ... Gojo.

Satoru yawned as he bent at the waist, the top of his head coming into view in the bathroom mirror. He had always been one of those people. The ones who  could wake up every morning, looking what some would call 'deliciously disshevelled'. Stray strands of silver fell forward softly over his forehead, the pure, crystalline eyes blinking slowly as he took himself in.

Satoru was fully aware of how attractive he appeared to others, physically speaking. While he didn't place much store by it, he did like looking his best, even if it was largely concealed under the blindfold. Eyes roving over the rippling muscle of his torso with a kind of satisfied disinterest, he sighed and was about to reach for his toothbrush, when something on his head caught his attention.

Were those ... split ends? And why was his hair looking distinctly duller in hue than normal? Considering his cursed technique, Satoru was seldom affected by environmental conditions. Winter was coming? No problem. It was particularly humid out that day? He'd still stroll along, unaffected, while people wilted around him like soggy paper towels. It was raining? Hello, built-in umbrella.

So, if there was an issue with his hair, it must be internal. Was he not getting enough of the necessary vitamins in his diet? Was all the sugar finally catching up with him? Unthinkable.

Still, something had to be done.

Contrary to how things seemed to others, Satoru worked exceptionally hard in his role as a sorcerer. Difficult missions didn't take quite so much time and effort when you were the self-proclaimed strongest. Thus, there was not much time to spoil himself.

Today, however, was a very rare, relaxed Sunday. He'd have to take action. There was only one person he trusted with his hair. Retrieving his phone from the counter, Gojo typed in a quick message and hummed slightly, applying moisturizer to his face as he waited for a reply.

"How? How can this be?"

"Er ... Gojo-sensei?"

"Yuuji! This is a disaster!"

"Whoa, whoa. What is?"

"My hair stylist! He's injured his back and won't be back for six whole months. What will I do? How will I survive? Am I supposed to rid the world of curses while my hair looks like this?"

"Uh ... yeah?"

"Wrong answer!"

Yuuji raised his hands, laughing slightly at the stricken expression of his teacher.

"Okay, okay. Hey, here's an idea. You know who has really nice hair?"

"Who?"

"Nanamin! His hair is always nicely cut and ... shiny? Maybe ask him who he goes to."

Satoru huffed.

"If I wanted a seven three parting and a cut so severe I'd look like I was about to serve fifteen years in the gulags, I'd go see his barber."

In his apartment in the city, relaxing in the living room with a cup of coffee in hand, Nanami sneezed violently. Unaware of this distant repercussion, Satoru was tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"There is a replacement in for my stylist, though. They said he was young, but talented."

"Oh? Why don't we go check it out then? If your previous stylist trusted him enough to take over, then he must be good, right? We can see him in action and you can decide if you trust him enough to do your hair!"

"Hmm. All right. I'll go for it, Yuuji!"

Now in a decidedly better mood, Satoru mimed finger guns at his student.

"Let's hoof it."

The hair studio was located in Harajuku, a twenty minute walk from where they exited the subway. The trendy boutiques that lined the street caught Yuuji's eye, and he knew that Nobara would have loved to have come here.

When they reached the studio, both teacher and student paused, taking in the shop front.

"Uhhh, was that always ... "

"Nope. This is new."

" ... Gojo-sensei, maybe we should just call Nanamin and - "

"Now, now, Yuuji. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Something Nanami has probably never said in his life."

"Hey! That's not very -"

Somewhere, in a neat cafe, Nanami burnt his tongue on his third cup of coffee for the day and uttered a soft 'fuck', before looking around to see if anyone had heard him.

Before Yuuji had a chance to defend the honour of his other mentor, Gojo had pushed open the door to the salon, whistling merrily. Pausing outside, Yuuji swallowed as a sensation of impending doom threatened to overtake him.

The facade that had been erected over the entryway was of a large and garish tornado, shaped into a classic pompadour, neon geometric shapes superimposed over it in what was clearly meant to be 'arty'. It reminded Yuuji of the anime he had been following religiously as a kid, Bobo's Bazaar Adventure. While he loved the show, he wasn't sure how effective it was in inspiring confidence as a hair studio. Shrugging slightly, he followed Gojo.

The interior was no less psychedelic. Assistants wearing bright pink rollerblades, clip-on angel wings and yellow overalls flew here and there, sweeping up fallen hair and delivering hot drinks while barely avoiding calamity. Hair stylists in chequered aprons snipped away at a frenetic pace, creating some of the most avant garde hairstyles Yuuji had ever seen. His eye was caught by a young woman with a purple up-do being shaped into a top hat and nearly collided with Gojo.

The moment Gojo entered, all eyes were drawn to him, of course. Today, the special grade sorcerer was wearing casual clothes, a dark jacket over a white t-shirt that clung to his very toned abdomen, fitted jeans in black that made his legs look like they'd been airbrushed in real life, and a pair of horrifically expensive sneakers. Gojo cheerfully saluted, tapping the side of his sunglasses that had probably cost more than Yuuji's entire education.

"Yo! I'm Gojo, Maurice's usual customer. I was told to come in today to see Hattori?"

The new receptionist dragged her eyes away from Gojo's pectorals with an audible gulp and hurriedly turned to her computer, her fingernails clacking swiftly over the keys as a burning crimson blush arced over her nose.

"J - Just a moment, sir. Er, ah, yes. Gojo Satoru, correct?"

"That's me!"

"He'll be right with you. Let me call him. I think he's just finished with a client."

Gojo surveyed the studio with interest from behind his shades.

"So he doesn't work out here on the floor?"

"Oh, no. He has a private room upstairs where his personal clients see him. Give me a moment."

She lifted a hot pink receiver and spoke in hushed tones into it. After a few minutes of waiting, she waved to the stairway behind her.

"Go on up. He's ready for you."

The room they entered was obviously supposed to be some sort of den of intense creativity. The matte grey walls were covered with modern art pieces in neon shades, humanoid figures distinguishable in the sinuous, branching tracks of colour. A giant window, forming a one-way looking glass, took up most of the outer wall, showcasing a stunning vista of the city below.

A single styling station, the mirror, chair and stands for various paraphernalia, stood alone and stark in the centre of the room, surrounded by the large fanning leaves of tropical plants. Flowers that Yuuji had never seen before provided bursts of colour where they hung from the ceiling in coconut mesh.

There was a woman, presumably the previous client, who was sitting before the mirror. Yuuji stared. Her hair was coiffed and curled in some kind of artistic representation of a rose, the layers tinted in colours ranging from dark crimson to the finest blush of the sky at dawn, creating a depth and dimensionality that anyone would be hard put to find in a painting, let alone on someone's hair.

The man standing behind her flitted about like a hummingbird at a flower, his slightly high-pitched voice rising and falling as he spoke a litany of encouragement to himself. Upon their entry, he hadn't even turned his head.

Gojo seemed content to stand and wait, so Yuuji cleared his throat slightly. Immediately, the stylist (who must be Hattori) froze and turned, a slightly crazed expression on his narrow, pinched features. Yuuji recoiled, but when Hattori's eyes moved across to Gojo, the change in the atmosphere of the room was palpable.

The stylist threw his scissors to one side, eyes opening wide, expression even more manic than before. The client who had been seated before him had to duck as the blades passed dangerously close to her face. Coming forward in a zig zag, as if pausing at different angles to take in Gojo completely, the man approached.

Close up, Yuuji could see that he didn't look in the best of health. His skin was dry and his lips cracked, the lines standing out at the corners of his eyes, even though he probably wasn't more than a few years older than Gojo. His bleached blonde hair bore the brittle look of many dye-jobs, and his fingernails were stained. He bore a striking contrast to the image projected in the rest of the studio.

Nevertheless, he was looking at Gojo like he was the Mona Lisa come to life. The lady seated at the mirror cleared her throat.

"Thank you Hattori, I'm - "

"Yes, yes, you're done now."

"Well, I just - "

"Speak to the front desk for the care routine." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand that left her gaping. "Now, who, who, who do we have here?"

"Gojo Satoru. I hear you've taken over from Maurice. I was a client of his for many years."

"Ahhh. Maurice, my dear mentor. Such a tragedy about his back injury. Can't even stay upright for longer than five minutes. Now, on to more important things, namely, you."

Hattori had now sidled right up to Gojo, his manic expression never toning down in intensity. The sorcerer in turn, regarded him with his usual good natured condescension. The woman with rose-like hair was now scurrying out of the room, scandalized. Yuuji watched her leave nervously. He didn't like being in this room. Everything just seemed weird and wrong.

"But ... I have to say... Maurice certainly kept you a closely guarded secret. Gojo, you say? No. No, I've never heard him speak that name. But look at you! You're... just ... a ... I have no words. Look at this shade of hair! Look at your jawline! Your facial structure! Superb. Superb. A true muse. Yes. A ... oh, this is .... wait. I must ... inspiration  has struck!"

Scurrying over to the styling stand, Hattori withdrew a notebook and pencil from the drawer, flipping open the book and beginning to sketch as if his life depended on it, his hair standing slightly on end, as if it had a consciousness of its own. Gojo raised his hand.

"Can't I just request my usual? Maurice always - "

"Usual? Usual?"

Hattori almost dropped the book in his hand.

"Dearest Gojo, please, never, never use the word 'usual' to refer to anything regarding yourself again!"

Gojo rubbed the back of his head and grinned.

"I mean, yeah, I know I'm exceptional, but - "

"Not just exceptional!" There were tiny, red capillaries standing out in the whites of Hattori's eyes now. Yuuji crept a little closer to Gojo.

"No, exceptional is too bland a word. I can't believe that Maurice kept you from me."

Yuuji could think of several reasons.

"Now let's see. Yes, yes, that would be - come and have a seat! I'll get started!"

"But I haven't told you - "

"Forget everything you know! I am Hattori, and I am inspired by a muse above all others ... you! Gojo Satoru! I will do with your hair what nobody has ever attempted before!"

Yuuji cleared his throat, speaking loud enough for only Gojo to hear.

"Uh, sensei ... "

"I know. Relax, Yuuji. I'll handle this."

Gojo pulled out his phone and typed a quick message, before sauntering over to the styling station.

"All right then, Hattori. I place myself in your capable hands."

Hattori chose, at that moment, to finally glance over in Yuuji's direction. He froze, eyes opening to dimensions that defied the basics of human anatomy.

"Wait. What ... what is that?"

Gojo looked over, confused.

"Oh, that's my student. Itadori - "

"No! That! The colour!"

Hattori was positively shrieking by now, and Yuuji laughed nervously, backing away.

"Uh, are you talking about my hair colour?"

"Yes! What kind of... of ... monstrosity is this? Salmon pink? In that single shade? No highlights? What were you thinking, boy?"

"What do you mean? This is my natural colour?"

Hattori laughed, tears of rather demented mirth gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Natural? What are you? Some kind of anime character?"

Gojo sighed.

"Oi, oi, oi. I'll trouble you not to pick on my precious student. What's he got to do with my hair anyway? Isn't that what we're here for?"

"He needs to go! He's going to taint the whole process with his presence!"

Gojo's cheerful demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. His smile disappeared and in its place was a kind of terrifying calm that made the room grow slightly colder. Hattori looked over at him and quailed.

"Uh, but if, as you say, he is your student, then I can ... make an exception for a favoured client such as yourself."

As the stylist scurried over to Gojo, Yuuji let out a soft breath as he mentally confirmed his suspicions. Unlike a regular person, Hattori had only reacted to Gojo's ire when there had been a change in his cursed energy signature. Hattori was certainly aware that Gojo was a sorcerer. And the hair stylist himself... was not all he seemed on the surface.

Certainly, there was no immediate danger to someone as powerful as Gojo. But Hattori looked unhinged enough to try almost anything. Yuuji kept his eyes on the erratic movements of the man as he darted here and there around Gojo, hands reaching out like the darting tendrils of a sea anemone as he touched and caressed Gojo's hair.

Creepy.

But Yuuji would have his sensei's back, even if his own strength was not needed.

As if sensing his serious mood, Gojo glanced over at him while Hattori whipped out a black bib and tied it around the sorcerer's neck with a flourish.

"Hey Yuuji, why the long face? I guess I'll have an exciting style soon. Something Nanami's never had in his life."

"Oh come on, sensei, you don't know that."

"I do. He was my underclassmen, remember?"

"Well ... what if he had something exciting while he was a salaryman?"

There was silence in the room for a while. Yuuji sighed.

"Okay. You win this one."

Nanami kept his eyes on the woman with rose-coloured hair, following her from a discreet distance. His plain jeans and sweater were helping him blend seamlessly into the crowd, along with the newspaper clutched in his hand and the fifth cup of coffee for the day. He really needed to cut back.

He was a little grumpy, to be honest. Here he was, enjoying his peaceful day at a cafe, when Gojo had messaged, asking him to investigate possible curse activity related to a woman with distinct rose-styled hair, somewhere near a salon in Harajuku. Nanami had hurried to the predicted co-ordinates and managed to spot the woman in question right before she boarded the subway.

It wasn't hard to determine who Gojo had been talking about. Besides the ... really spectacular hairstyle she sported, there was a horrific amount of cursed energy whirling about her frame, concentrated around her hair.

Nanami suddenly felt that same unbearable itch in his nose from earlier in the day and sneezed heavily, whipping out his handkerchief.

Why did this keep happening? Was he coming down with something? 

[llamaisllama777]

I Wanna talk about today's LAES episode!

Okay, I loved this episode and am pleasantly surprised by how mature most of them handled this, especially Lunar and Moon. Lunar knows he messed up, and he really has no excuse for what he did. He made a dumb mistake with MAJOR repercussions. He takes his punishment like a man and accepts it won't be easy to earn everyone's forgiveness, and it's up to Earth if she wants to forgive Lunar or not and that's fair.

Monty and Moon are rightly mad at Lunar, and while I think Monty shouldn't threaten to punch Lunar, it's entirely fair. That's just who Monty is. He's an angry guy and doesn't like it when people hurt people he cares about, so while he shouldn't have threatened Lunar, it is to be expected. Monty loves Earth. She's one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he adores her and hates seeing her get hurt and betrayed... again. While yes, it was an accident, it was a very poorly and badly timed accident.

We don't know if Earth is gonna be okay.

-Best case scenarios

They get all the negative star power out of her and she's back to her old self again

Or she's fine, but she just feels numb like Monty's arm did for like five months.

-WORST case scenario

She dies.

Monty has all the right in the world to be mad. Everyone here does. Lunar could have killed Earth! Or hurt Moon, or Jack, or Dazzle. They have all right to be mad!

I'm glad all of them still care for Lunar and still see him as a brother and don't want anything bad to happen to him. I'm proud of Moon despite the fact that he was very hurt by Lunar's words he still loves him. If this had been how OLD old Moon he would have torn Lunar to shreds verbally... and then maybe physically.

I'm proud he's grown from his angry past.

Sun and Solar seem the most sad to kick Lunar out, but they understand his actions NEED to have consequences.

I've seen some people say that it's not fair for them to kick out Lunar and say he's dangerous...

Guys... HE IS. Lunar is basically a walking BOMB!

Yes, Monty has access to dangerous weapons, and so does Solar and Moon... but they keep those away from Earth in places she won't find them or get hurt by them.

Sun has magic.... he can control it.

(when he's not having a nightmare)

While everyone in that room is dangerous, they're all careful. Lunar wasn't.

So, now he has to face the consequences. It's sad to see Lunar be separated from his family and still have no idea who he is or what he's supposed to be... but who knows, maybe this is what Lunar needs. Plus, if Lunar doesn't want to stay in THIS universe, I can think of one universe that could be a big help to him...

*Cough! Eclipse and Puppet's! Cough!*

This could be the first step in the right direction.

I get why people are upset at the Celestial family and Monty for kicking out Lunar... BUT I can't argue that they didn't do anything wrong. I think the Celestial did the right thing.

Actions have consequences both GOOD and BAD.

Also... does anyone else think Lunar's apartment reminds them of Peter Parker's from the Tobey Maguire Spider-man movies and Spider-man No way home. It just gives me that vibe.

Also... I feel SO BAD for Earth!

The girl has been betrayed by

-Her father

-Her brother (Nexus)

-Monty for not telling Earth about his crimes (They worked that out)

-And now Lunar!

Girl probably gonna have trust issues after this.

[lokisprettygirl]

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Read Chapter 5 here// Series Masterlist

Chapter 6

Summary: Your anger gets Daemon in a bit of a trouble. Something really awful is going on at the king's landing wellness center.

Warning: 18+, smutty scenarios, crude language, boring chapter, description of Statutory rape, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), mention of physical assault, the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking.

You found yourself idly picking at your cuticles as you waited for Dr. Vis to enter his office. You had been called in for a discussion and your gut told you that it was about Daemon. Despite working at the center for two years now, you couldn't even remember the last time the two of you had shared a full sentence but since Daemon had arrived you were on his radar for some reason.

As you heard him entering the office, you stood up to greet him. However, Dr. Vis gestured for you to sit back down,

"You are Y/m/n's daughter, correct?" Dr. Vis asked you as you sat down. You nodded, feeling a rush of emotions at the mention of your mother “She was a lovely lady, always so polite and warm” he commented but you couldn't really tell whether he was genuine with his compliment or not. You didn't think of him as a person who'd remember a custodian of all people.

“Yeah” you smiled as you didn't really know what else to say.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you about Daemon" Dr. Vis said, and your heartbeat quickened at the mention of his name.

“Daemon-?” You questioned, much to your surprise your voice came out really firm.

“He's been under my care for years now, but I have never seen him so violent as he was with those guards” you gulped as he said that “I visited them and they confessed to me why Daemon attacked them” he continued,

“Why?” You asked him, pretending as if you didn't know the reason already.

“Because of you” he paused for a moment before continuing “those men perhaps said something nasty about you, which i assure that there will be repercussions for such a behavior but that is the reason Daemon attacked them, now if there's one thing i am certain of is that Daemon doesn't do anything that would not serve him in return” he continued

“I'm sorry i don't understand what you mean” you responded as you tried to keep your voice neutral.

“I'll be plain with you y/n, are you offering him services beyond your duty as a custodian?” Your eyes widened in shock as he questioned you plainly. The implication of the question left you feeling embarrassed and angry at the same time.

“Absolutely not, I take my work seriously and always treat patients as such” you mumbled confidently, the confidence came from the anger you felt at his insinuation, even though he wasn't completely wrong.

There have been touching and inappropriate conversations between you and Daemon but it was all over last night, you didn't want to get involved with him again especially if he was entertaining the likes of Shyla as well.

“Daemon is a borderline psychopath y/n, you must know what that means right? He's charming and highly manipulative but everything he does is for his own gain” Dr. Vis said with utmost conviction. Daemon might have been an arse but a part of you knew he was far from being a psychopath with no empathy for others.

“Why does he call himself a dragon?” You asked him so Vis let out a laugh but it wasn't the sort of laughter that could bring anyone any comfort or understanding, on the contrary it chilled you to the bone.

“Because he's sick, why did you ask?” he mumbled, his tone was dismissive.

“It's just I found feathers in his room and when I questioned him he told me that they belonged to him”

The smile on Viserys's face disappeared as you mentioned that, a part of you knew you shouldn't have said anything to him, what if he hurts Daemon more? You felt the sinking feeling in your gut for letting the words slip out of you in nervousness.

“Feathers you said?” He looked at you confused so you nodded “He must have hidden those in his belongings when he came here," Vis repeated, watching you closely. “Guards must not have checked his bag properly. It's just a part of the act, y/n.”

You gave him a nod as he said that.

“Is there anything else you want from me?” he smiled and looked at you intensely as you said that

“Keep me informed if you find other suspicious things in there”

“Sure” you stepped out of his office, rolling your eyes throughout the way. What did he think of himself? And Why did you tell him about the feathers? The guilt was only going to get worse as the day goes on.

As you made your way to room 393, you found the guards doing the thorough search of his belongings. Great job y/n.

Daemon was already tied up to a chair and handcuffed in the corner of the room.

“Ummm can I proceed?” You asked John so he nodded.

“We are almost done, do you want us to leave him like that? For the sake of your safety?” John asked you so you looked at Daemon, there was a definite smirk on his face that most instantly vanished at your response.

“I'd like that, thank you” you glared at Daemon and you could tell he was confused by the sudden change in your demeanor.

As the guards left you quickly went on to do your work, ignoring Daemon altogether. You were acting like a scorned ex-girlfriend and it took you a minute to realize that.

You heard him sniffing as he looked at you up and down before he spoke to you.

“You're upset..why?” He asked you but you ignored him again and that was enough to rile him up.

“Heyy talk to me alright?” He raised his voice a little bit so you glared at him

“i don't want to talk to you, I don't want to look at you and i don't want anything to do with you” Your words were harsh and your tone was cold, making it clear that you wanted nothing to do with him and that was your plan but then his eyes flickered and you could see that he was hurt by your response.

“Why? I apologized yesterday, you forgave me-” you cut him off mid sentence before he could go on,

“And then you decided to fuck Shyla”

As your words sunk in he snickered at first, went quite for a moment, and then cracked his neck in disbelief.

“Bravo..I was wondering why I was being raided first thing in the morning. What did you say to Vis , hmm?” he asked, voice full of hurt and confusion. You knew he felt betrayed about you going behind his back.

“It was a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean it” you defended yourself and though it was true that you didn't share the information just to hurt him, you knew he'd feel hurt anyways.

“Oh why don't you accept it that you did it on purpose?” he asked you, his tone remained loud and snarky.

“Perhaps I did, now we are even” you retorted so he chuckled again.

“Oh are we? You can't hurt me because you're hurting, isn't that what you said yesterday”

“Don't turn this around on me alright? You don't get to be upset with me” your eyes welled up as you felt the surge of emotions coursing through you.

“I share those things with youuu, I choose to do so, because I believe in you or I did at least”

You didn't answer him as he said that. What were you supposed to say? You shouldn't have told Dr Vis about the feathers, you regretted doing it as soon as you had opened your mouth but you felt on the spot in that moment, what you had seen last night coupled with the nervousness you felt under Dr Vis’s suspicion made you feel so angry and you took it out on him. These days you were doing things you never thought you'd do. He really was driving you insane.

“You know what your problem is?” He asked as he suddenly rose up from the chair, breaking the rope and the handcuffs in one quick motion as if it didn't take a single ounce of strength.

He stepped closer, until you felt like he was practically looming over you so you crossed your arms defensively,

“Tell me, what do you think my problem is?” you challenged him

“Your problem is that you don't listen or ask for explanations, you just assume things.. you're so fucking judgemental..you saw her visiting me and just assumed that we were fucking in here” He spoke angrily, his jaw clenching, teeth gritting, face contorted with rage.

“I don't care if you're fucking her”

Now that was purely a lie which even you couldn't deny.

“Huh then why are you acting as if I have broken your heart?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I am-” you didn't even know how to justify your behavior. What was it to you if he was sleeping with other women? He wasn't your boyfriend.

“I don't want to be a part of this ..i can't..I can't.. feel this way that I am feeling, I don't like it ..it's hurting me and I don't like it” you trailed off, barely able to form a sentence that would actually make sense to him.

“I didn't ask you to come to me, to tend to me, to steal for me, i didn't ask for those things” his eyes welled up as he spoke, he felt as if he was losing you forever and it didn't feel right at all but if he was hurting you so badly then he didn't want to add to your misery either. If he was becoming too much to deal with he would not force you to be his friend or more.

“Right”

You looked at the shredded ropes and the broken handcuffs as you reached for them to clean it up. How did he have such marvelous strength? A part of you really wanted to believe that he was something extraordinary, but then he was also not well, he was a patient.

“We didn't fuck..i didn't touch her like that” he mumbled suddenly and your heart skipped a beat, you couldn't tell whether he was lying or not but then he really didn't have any reason to lie to you.

“Why else would she come to see a man who had supposedly harmed her?” You asked him as you grabbed your cart so he chuckled.

“She wanted to confirm a rumor she had heard at the hospital and she told me why she had lied that day”

“Why did she lie?”

“Why do you care? You didn't want to be a part of this right?” he mumbled sarcastically so you bit on your cheek and nodded.

“Right”

With a heavy heart, you silently turned around and left his room. You had made such a big fuss, and for what? You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for how you had behaved. Not only had you made the entire situation worse by telling Dr. Vis about the feathers, but you had also acted like a terrible friend and betrayed Daemon's trust in the process.

During Lunch hour he caught you staring at him, he knew you wanted to talk to him, it's not as if you had many friends here, he was starting to think that he was the only person you had genuinely befriended in a long time, your aversion to men wasn't just limited to sex but the whole idea of intimacy in general.

Later that night when you went to bed you felt extremely upset about the whole situation and you really missed him, perhaps you shouldn't have jumped to conclusions so easily, eyes can be deceiving and a part of you trusted him when he said that he didn't sleep with her..

As you heard the knock on the door, you quickly leaped out of your bed and ran towards the door but composed yourself before opening the door.

“You know if you apologize I will forgive you” he mumbled as he walked past you and pulled down his hood. You knew you owed him a genuine apology for how you had acted this morning.

"Daemon, what are you doing?" you asked, shocked as you watched him frantically open every drawer in your room, rummaging through your possessions. You didn't see what he had taken, but you knew he had taken something and tucked it away in his pocket.

“Apologize darling” he mumbled as he turned around to look at you so you crossed your arms.

“Im sorry, I didn't mean to rat you out..that's not the kind of person I am .. usually” you looked down as you spoke, your heart felt heavy and he could sense your discomfort so he walked towards you.

“Why did you go into his office?” he asked, his tone now gentle.

“He called me in, Darryl and Jacob had told him that you attacked them because they had made a joke about me” Daemon was silent for a moment as he processed your words.

“You know about that?”

“I heard last night, that's why I wanted to see you, and then I saw Shyla and assumed -”

“That I was fucking her.. and that made you upset” he was smiling as he finished his sentence so you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah whatever, he asked me if I was offering you uhhh bed services or something for you to get so upset about a stupid joke-”

“Joke? They were insulting you..these people that you work with and trust so blindly”

“I don't trust them..I don't trust men ..i know how ugly they can be..but you can't attack people-” you responded as you felt a sense of frustration.

“I can and I will again if I hear anyone talking filth about you”

His words were bold and confident, and they didn't fail to have an impact on your already budding feelings. As he spoke, you found yourself staring at him, unable to look away. Despite everything that had happened this morning, there was still a connection between the two of you that you couldn't ignore.

“And why is that?” you asked him so he grabbed you by the shoulders as he pulled you even closer.

“Because you're my friend sweetheart..I care about you, is that enough?”

“You can't attack people Daemon” as he attempted to pull away from you you reached for the collar of his hoodie and for a moment he was taken aback,

“I appreciate that you did..that you care enough about me but I don't want you to get hurt again, okay?” he couldn't help but smile as you said that. You worried about him, that much he knew.

“Alright, next time I'd hurt them less enough that they're not hospitalized” he said as a matter of fact so you let go of him, not knowing whether to reprimand him for being so stubborn or kiss his stupid face for being so protective of you.

“What did you steal from my drawer?” you asked to cut the tension so he stepped away from you.

“I'll show you woman..calm your gorgeous tits” he mumbled with a grin evident on his face, his words making you feel flushed instantly.

“Other men can't make a joke but you can talk to me this way?” you mumbled to hide your giddiness.

“I only do it because you allow me to, the day you'd ask me to keep my mouth shut for real, I'd never go against your words”

He always knew how to warm his way into your heart again, didn't he?

“If it's a scissor or a knife you better give it to me right now” you mumbled to steer the conversation again so he smiled and pulled out the scissors from his pocket, his hand wrapped around the handle, a part of you feared for his safety, he definitely was unpredictable and unstable at times.

“Daemon give me that please?” You mumbled softly as you stepped closer to him so he chuckled lightly.

“Ohh you beg so sweetly darling..but don't bother I'm not going to hurt myself i promise or you for that matter” he assured you and it did make you feel better but you still wanted to snatch that scissor away from him.

“Then why do you have it?” you questioned him softly so he smiled again.

“Trying to prove a point”

You couldn't even understand what he was trying to do so the shock and fear you felt was unimaginable when he started to chop away those beautiful locks of hair on his head.

“Daemon– “

“Calm down darling I can hear your heartbeat it's so loud…it's just hair …they grow back”

“Why are you doing this Daemon?” your eyes teared up as you questioned, a part of you felt awful seeing him chop those silver locks so carelessly.

“Just told you, I'm trying to prove a point”

“What point?”

“You wanted me to show you, that night you asked me to open your eyes so that's what I'm going to do”

“Cutting your hair is going to accomplish what?”

“You'll see”

Once he was done cutting his hair in a haphazard manner he walked towards you and grabbed your hand as he went down on his knees.

“Touch them” he spoke firmly but his tone was demanding and soothing at the same time.

“Why?”

“So you'd know they're real, that I'm not fooling you with a wig”

You hesitated for a moment but eventually wrapped your fingers around his scalp. He closed his eyes as you ran your fingers through his locks, and you heard him purr softly when you pulled on the roots lightly to confirm that they were indeed real.

“What now?”

You asked him softly so he chuckled, as his eyes raked over your inflamed cuticles he brought each finger to his lips and kissed on them one by one as if his kisses would soothe the burning sensation.

“Now you wait” you sighed deeply as he said that.

“Why don't you just come and see me when you're turned into a dragon?” you asked him softly so he sighed.

“It doesn't work that way, sometimes I can only grow my wings, the other times my hair is the only thing to transform, at times I'm able to build fire with my fingers but I lack the control, it comes and goes instantly, the reason why I have been so confused all my life is because everyone around me made me believe that I was losing my mind and at times i thought so too but not anymore” he mumbled, his voice laced with frustration but you could tell that he was choosing to trust you again with his secrets and mysteries. Or his delusions.

“You can..build fire?” you asked him so he nodded again as if it wasn't the craziest thing in the world.

Could that be the reason why he was burning like a furnace all the time?

“Okay, then I wait” you mumbled softly so he rose up slowly and hugged you tightly before he left that night.

However two days passed and his hair still looked the same, it looked really awful and you could tell that he was getting antsy about it as well. He clearly felt embarrassed and frustrated but dragon baby or not, you were going to help him get through this thing. Perhaps this was a coping mechanism for him , something he had developed as a child to cope with the loneliness he had surrounding him..

Three days later you finally dragged him out of his room and took him to the groomer in the facility to get his hair fixed. You liked how the longer hair looked on him, it made him stand out and if you were being honest with yourself it gave him a distinct aura but as he said it was just hair and it would grow back, at least he wasn't hurting himself.

As you assisted him back to his room he seemed a bit gloomy so you stepped inside and closed the door to offer him some comfort.

“Why are you sad?” You asked him so he sighed.

“Now you think I'm full of crap” he muttered, as if he was expecting you to judge him and call him a lunatic.

“I don't think that way” you responded.

“You certainly don't think very highly of me” he mumbled, his eyes seeming as if he was close to tearing up.

“That's not for you to decide” you told him confidently so he snickered at first but as you walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist to embrace him, you could see his defenses breaking down. “Besides, I don't care whether you're a dragon or not, I don't care whether or not you can turn into an otherworldly creature. I just care about you and I don't want you to get hurt” you mumbled as you looked up at him and you could tell he wasn't really expecting that, he was expecting you to make fun of his delusions and not be such an angel about it.

“So it's not a problem for you if I am lying about it?” he asked curiously so you gave him a smile.

“I'm sure you think you're not lying, it's real in your head and i believe that”

As you laid down in your bed that night, your mind was filled with mixed emotions. You couldn't stop thinking about the situation, and you found yourself feeling guilty about what you had done by telling Vis about Daemon's supposed feathers. You knew that you had made a huge mistake, and you really wished that you were capable of taking it back somehow but it wasn't possible.

The next morning as you dragged your cart into his room, you quickly beelined towards the bedside lamp, it was dark in his room and you heard the shower running already, which was a surprise as he often slept until late..

As he came out of the bathroom you had your back turned towards him so he smiled,

“I want to show you something” he mumbled in his “I'm sexy first thing in the morning voice” so you shrugged in response.

“Put your clothes on first..or just a cloth would do” you requested him so he grabbed a trousers from the closet and put it on.

As you turned around, you were greeted by a shocking sight - there he stood with a long, wet, silver mane cascading down his shoulders, almost reaching his waist.

As he approached, you took involuntary steps behind but there wasn't much room for you to hide. Was that a wig? How did he find it if it was? It can't be real right? What would you do if it was real? What would that even mean? You found yourself going through an existential crisis at the moment.

As you hit the wall, he placed his arms around you to entrap you between him and the wall, and he smelled divine, which wasn't really fair to you, you must smell like cleaning chemical products all the time, you thought..

You finally dared yourself to look up at his head, particularly at those long luscious thick hair.

“Touch it” he asked you as he let out a whispering voice so you shook your head, your eyes already teary so he grabbed your hand and brought it closer to his head before he leaned down and pressed his nose into your neck like always.

“Touch them please” your fingers eventually clutched around the roots of his hair and you sighed, from the relief but also the weirdness of the situation.

“Pull” he whispered in your ear so you closed your eyes and pulled on his strands slightly to confirm that his hair was actually real. It was all real.

“How?” You asked him a stupid question so he pressed his head up and looked at you intently.

“You know how, you just don't want to believe it”

“You turned into a dragon last night?”

“For a moment, it was enough”’

“What if I'm crazy.. and this is a hallucination? Just my mind playing tricks on me? What if this is not even real? What if you're not real” you looked up at him with your teary eyes and trembling lips so he tilted his head. He didn't expect you to understand this, not yet, nobody did, but at least you didn't run away from him at the first sign of trouble, last night you were in here telling him that you'd care for him no matter what, even if he was crazy and delusional you showed him that you'd stand by him.

His hands dragged up from the side of your waist and your breaths picked up immediately, his fingers then trailed the side of your curves, making your knees feel weak at the touch.

“Would this feel so hot if you were hallucinating darling?” he asked you as he opened the buttons of your cardigan, your fingers clutched around the waistband of his trousers.

“Daemon-” you whispered his name as his fingers glided over your chest, your nipples became erect quickly, the thin bra you had on did nothing to hide your shame. As he finally touched the aroused clothed nubs you almost combusted.

“It's all real, I'm real and I'm trying to show you who I am” he whispered in your ear as he cupped your breasts in his palms and rubbed his fingers over your bosom.

“How? Why? It can't be real Daemon” you asked him, not in the sense of judgment but disbelief. You found yourself annoyed by your own questions but he smiled instead.

“I don't really know, i wish to know why I am this way and I'll figure it out, that's why I'm here” he told you as he brought his palms up to cup your cheeks, thumb grazing over your lips tenderly.

“I'm sorry I am trying to make sense of it, I don't want to hurt you, I'm sorry if I still seem doubtful but I'm trying” you mumbled almost quietly so he nuzzled his nose against yours to calm you down.

“I know, i know sweet girl, thank you, nobody has tried before, nobody cared enough, just you being here is important for me”

You got on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him, the scent of your hair calmed him for a moment but then he heard something and he immediately had you pressed against the wall with his hand wrapped around your throat, a moment later the door flung open.

“What's going on over here?” Dr. Vis asked so and you felt Daemon's grip around your neck tighten for a moment before he let you go.

“Your stupid fucking maid can't even do her job properly” he stormed towards Vis so he glared at him, a moment later two guards entered and handcuffed Daemon, you knew if he wanted to get out of their clutches he could have done so easily but he didn't even try.

“Are you alright dear?” Vis asked so you nodded, you knew Daemon pretended to attack you in order to protect your job and your image in front of Vis but you didn't think Dr. Vis was a man fooled so easily.

“Yes, I just need a moment” you mumbled as you caressed your neck and fixed your cardigan as you moved towards your cart to get the fuck out of there.

“What is this hmm?” Vis asked Daemon as he flicked his long hair to mock him.

“For a doctor you surely are dense”

The remark earned Daemon a slap on the cheek and then he was dragged out of the room for his therapy session.

The possibility of Daemon being an otherworldly creature was becoming more probable day by day and you didn't know how to accept it. How was it even possible? Did his mother sleep with a dragon? Or she was a dragon? Dragons existed? There were other human dragon hybrids in the world or he was the only one? Your brain was running a mile per second with all those thoughts in there.

Later that night you somehow were able to sneak into his room, there was a mark on his cheek and it made your heart clench for him,

“This is not right daemon..he can't treat you like this all the time, you're a patient here, not a prisoner” you mumbled softly as you caressed his cheek so he sighed,

“We need to stop seeing each other like this” he mumbled suddenly but it didn't really surprise you, you knew it was becoming dangerous for you both.

“Mmmm I'll stop tomorrow..did he not question the hair?” You asked him so he shook his head.

“He blames it on generalized hypertrichosis, claims that i have had it since birth”

“Even with the condition you can't grow 12 inches in a night-” you said to him and you could see the grin forming over his face “Shut up”

“I didn't say anything”

“You're doing it in your head”

“Head is definitely involved darling”

“Shut uppppp ..” you mumbled again so he grabbed your chin and leaned into you to kiss your forehead.

“They're beautiful” you mumbled softly as you grabbed a lock of his hair between your fingers, they were silky and so shiny as if he had just returned from a hair salon.

“Would you cut them a little bit shorter for me?” he asked you so you hummed in response before you spoke.

“Mmmm I definitely can but you should keep them for a night, I can braid them for you”

He was definitely happier about the prospect of getting his hair tended to so he excitedly sat down on the floor after passing you the brush. You carefully brushed the tangles and braided it from the sides before you tied those ends together in the center, he looked beautiful, you couldn't really take your eyes off him.

For some reason you just knew that this particular memory was going to stick with you for a long time to come.

The next morning, as you went about your morning routine, you couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity wash over you. When you saw two policemen in the corridor with Viserys, it piqued your curiosity more than ever before. The police had been around the center quite a few times, usually when a patient would run away. You decided to investigate, and made your way towards the cafeteria, hoping to find answers. As you entered the room, you saw Shyla crying, and Dina trying to comfort her so you approached them as well.

“What's wrong?” You asked her so Dina sighed, her response wasn't what you could have expected even in your worst nightmare.

“That previous patient Tanya from 393? Her body was found in the woods nearby last night”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@anukulee @ammo23 @littledark11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

@daenny-t

[collectivecloseness]

okay but imagine one of the yandere fruity four (let’s say Nancy, because she’s been a bit of an example used before poor girl) just snaps and kidnaps you, without thinking about it or consulting the rest of the group. And obviously now all of them have to deal with the repercussions of her actions

Anon I am kissing you on the mouth late for valentines thank you

Things like this are so interesting though! Because if you saw Nancy kidnapping you, and she takes you to the others, home, fuck yes they are so pissed at Nancy, but now they can’t let you go. Because you saw Nancy, one of them, and they can’t put her, or any of their family (you, too, are part of their family) in danger.

So okay, you are joining the family this way. They prepared for this scenario anyway.

Of course they thought they’d have more time, because just... up and taking you would have been a last shot, if after they courted you you still said no- you weren’t sure, or you couldn’t because of some horrible reason restricting your choice :(. They would have helped you through that last alternative anyway, because they love you <3

Not all of them even thought down the taking you path... Well okay actually, all of them did, some of them would have just been a lot quieter about it than others. And some definitely would have only had it as their last, last, very last option if they were that desperate and there was nothing else they could do for you... But you’re here now. They love you. They’ll make it work, as best as they can for you. You deserve that, after everything you’ve been put through now, at the very least.

You deserve everything.

So now not only were you betrayed by one friend, but when you see your other friends, you realise you’ve been betrayed by all of them. All four of your best friends, all of them were lying to you, all of them had this crazy thing about you behind your back together, all of them were going to hurt you by keeping you here, and protect each other instead...

Like I said, the other three are pissed when Nancy tells them what she’s done. Eddie tried to run straight upstairs for you, to the spare room Nancy put you in, that they were all planning to be your room eventually anyways. But she grabs him so hard he nearly breaks his leg, gripping onto the bannister and being yanked down those first couple of steps.

Even Robin’s trying to push past, standing up to Nancy for one of the first proper times, at least physically, as she uses her height to stand practically chest to chest with Nancy, and demand she let her and Eddie go to you right now, and to not mess anything up anymore. Robin’s face serious, and dark, and pissed, as she looms in front of Nancy, a way she’s never been before, not to one of the others.

But Nancy begs everyone to listen first. She’s in tears shortly into her argument, her defence more of an apology than anything, and speeching a stance of what they can all do next, to keep this all together. She knows she fucked up. And Nancy usually doesn’t cry when trying to debate something. But Nancy knows what a whole mess this thing is, and it is entirely her fault; no one else to blame but her this time. She doesn’t want to lose the others either. And she can’t lose you, hopefully if the others stay with her, they’ll help you come back around to her too...

But when the other three first burst into your room, they are in shock.

Yeah they knew you were up here. God, they were practically scratching layers beneath their skin and bouncing the floorboards into dust, knowing you were tied up and frightened and all alone up there, but they were taking forever to talk downstairs. A family meeting without you... the last time that’ll happen, they swear okay? ...Apart from the ones where you don’t need to know something that will just upset you.

Immediately they’re running forwards and untying you. Nancy practically had your whole body bound in rope, she was really panicking after hitting you over the head and deciding to just take you.

Shock still on their faces as Eddie undoes your ear muffs and scarf blindfold from Nancy’s winter wear, wanting you to find your senses, caring about you more than anything else right now. He needs you to not be even more frightened, panicked, to know it’s him and you’re safe now and this will never happen to you again - it shouldn’t have. His hands brushing your cheeks as he removes them. His face tender and soothing and heightened with adrenaline, taking this so so seriously as he frees you, let’s you get your senses back. Keeps his hands stroking your cheeks as you see him, because you know Eddie will keep you safe.

Steve apologising profusely and promising you’re alright over and over, as he immediately moves to assessing the rope situation. Deciding to just cut them all with a pocket knife in his jeans, instead of having you in them for five more seconds. Taking it out and being thankful he has all his family here, because as you notice it’s them, your friends, coming to save you, once Eddie’s freed your eyes, you settle down enough so Steve won’t nick you, as he quickly gets to work. Fuck all this rope, Nancy shouldn’t need any more anyway, she shouldn’t be doing anything by herself anymore if she’s hurting you, and all of you, like this!

Robin breaking Eddie’s handcuffs Nancy stole that are tying you to the your bedpost, while you lay on the floor all wrapped up. She doesn’t even really know how she does it in the end. She just acts quick and makes sure not to hurt your wrist. Permanently breaking something belonging to Eddie’s personality that Nancy had twisted and used to victimise you... Robin could really mess with her right now. But at least once it’s done, it’s easier for Steve, dealing with all that rope. Used just for you, someone who wouldn’t hurt anyone. And you’ve been laying on the carpeted floor with your whole body tied up and senses stolen, with nothing even coating your injured head...

All their eyes wet and terrified and loving and soothing and deep in yours. Eddie holding your face as his dark puppy eyes stay closest to yours, walking you through some calming talk as he holds you. Steve promising he’s getting you out right now and shushing you as he says you’re okay, every time he feels it’s safe enough to look up from his knife, task oriented. Robin joining Steve the second she’s broken the cuffs, her blue eyes less teary and so determined, because she is deep in protective mode right now, letting you know when it’ll be over soon.

As soon as you see the others, especially with their shock, their runs to free you, their soothing and apologetic and horrified words, all you can think is thank god. You’re trying to tell them Nancy has suffered some kind of episode, even though you’re sure they already know that. Nancy wasn’t in this room, and they all knew where you were, they were still just shocked to see you like this.

As soon as they’ve got you free, you leap forward, and because of positioning alone, Steve is the first one you hug. He practically lifts you upright, back onto your feet, the moment he hugs you back, even if it does take him a second before he does so.

Steve sniffles as he hugs you, his toned arms shaking but not from the effort of those ropes. His cheek pressed to yours, as he blinks tears down his face, being brushed away by your hair as he lets you sink into his protective hold. Thanking him, hugging one of your best friends, because he saved you, like you knew he would.

Steve hugs you back, because he’s your hero briefly, and he’s aware this will be the last time you’ll hug him for a while. Any of them. Last time you’ll hug them like this, like the you who you still are, for a while. Steve doesn’t want you to change, Nancy shouldn’t have-

He knows this new arrangement will take some getting used to. For all of them. Especially because you probably are going to change as a person, as someone they all know, they love for who you are. But it’s okay, of course they’ll love you anyway, no matter what.

You tell them again about Nancy suffering some sort of break, clearly something is very wrong with her mental health you say, and they all say they know, which you assume they did as they knew where to find you. They’re all relishing in these last few seconds with you, mourning the normal future they know they could have had with you, by keeping their hands on you while they can right now

Steve rubbing your shoulders with his thumbs, his hands grounding you there with comfort and strength, after you pulled back from the hug. Eddie cupping your cheek and neck, still so close by, his other ringed hand cradling through your hair, and biting his lip as he tries not to think about next time he’ll be able to do this again. Robin rubbing your back up and down, her hand resting on your hip like it usually is with you, knowing she’s lost that normalcy, one type of relationship with you now.

And then you realise that all four of your friends are kidnapping you now. They’re all insane. What the fuck have they been thinking about you this entire time? Why are they doing this now? They’ve untied you from your restraints, Steve is nearly on his knees whilst keeping his hands on your shoulders, as he begs you to believe you’ll never be restrained again, but explains they’re still locking you in this room for now.

Stealing you in Steve’s slightly soundproofed house, with no neighbours in viewable distance through the trees of Hawkins around.

At least the house you were to be kept prisoner in was very lovingly built by the architect... The way out of Steve’s house was a straight line, a path easy for anyone facing that way to spot. Easy for them to see anyone leaving on. If no one came to the front door, and knowing - or rather not knowing what these four were capable of - you’re sure they’d be able to keep people away, then there’s no way you’d be spotted. And while Steve hadn’t soundproofed the house or anything dramatic like that, it did keep sound well. It kept everything in well. Which was unfortunate for you.

Begging one of them to be on your side. Doing so as soon they forlornly tell you what’s going to happen now, for the first couple of days. Like for Robin or Eddie to help you. You’re very quickly trying to refigure out your friends. But they don’t. They don’t let you free. They don’t get you the phone. They want you to know they are on your side, they tell you they don’t want you to feel like you’re all on your own, but you say that you are, because they won’t help you.

They sadly trot away, closing your door behind you, to respect you and your boundaries. Sulking away upset, even if they do understand. But if making them upset that they’re making you feel this way helps you get out, then good! But also they should feel upset! They should feel guilty!

You’ll tell them how abandoned and alone you feel, that neither of them are supporting you, you can’t trust them to be by your side, and they can’t promise you it’s untrue, because you have all this evidence to throw in their face, or to tearily testify with. They say they’ll do anything else for you, anything in the world. Even though every single thing you ask for the first day they say no to.

Nancy begging you not to blame/be mean to the others. But what else can you respond with other than actually you will keep doing so, as they are just as complicit as her because they are keeping you here.

“Do you know the law Nancy? They will also be thrown away for kidnapping. You definitely shouldn’t go for that position as a crime reporter, if you don’t know the law.”

The ‘will’ hurts Nancy. As if you really do want them all sent away to prison. Like you’d try to do that to them if they gave you that bit of freedom right now. Like you’re planning on it happening.

You don’t want Nancy to get that stupid promotion. You don’t exactly care how she feels about herself, unless it’s guilty enough to set you free... or upset enough to hurt- Unless it affects your chances of getting out of here unharmed, you couldn’t give one about her feelings.

“Also fuck you.” Is the other thing you say to Nancy. Right before she leaves you to yourself again.

They try to give you privacy, but also keep you at a level of interaction with them like before. Just like before Nancy hurt you - they are really apologetic for that, and really are glad you let them take care of your poor minor head injury. A similar amount of time that you���d interact with them everyday, before you lived with them. So you weren’t going through too many changes, and so you weren’t scared each time they did breach your new bedroom. They want you to feel normal, they really really do.

Steve mentioned to you about two weeks in, when he came in to chat with you like they all do, that if Nancy gets some promotion she’s working towards, it’ll mean more funds in the household for everyone! He says it while practically bouncing on your- the bed, with a smile. Although he quickly gets that expression on his face, the one you used to think was dorky and endearing, where he realised he may have messed up while speaking, and he quickly rectifies that of course that’s not to say anything negative about you now also pulling from the household pot, and that they’re very happy to have you, they’ve always been planning for that; especially since they know you really wanted that break because you were so burned out, so they were gonna give it to you with all their financial support. All their support in the world. Also, the amount they used to buy you gifts, or nights out, or pay for gas to see you, you were always a part of the pot anyway.

You tell Steve to go away, before he can smile for a second time today. It is very rare any of them smile, in this first week or two they have you. Sometimes they forget things aren’t like they used to be. Or they try to treat things like normal, to help you transition. But you definitely weren’t smiling, and they knew, no matter how much the fact made them want to claw their own hearts out, they knew they were the reason why. So they didn’t really feel any reason for them to smile. Not so far anyway.

[yanderecrazysie]

Repercussion Part 2

Requested by multiple people on my Wattpad.

Part 1: here

Title: Repercussion (Part 2)

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, non-consensual touching, suggestive themes

Summary: Your former bully decides to explore that last love language with you.

repercussion

/noun/

an unintended consequence occurring some time after an event or action, especially an unwelcome one.

Oikawa had been acting strangely the past few weeks.

You were ready to graduate and leave this hell for good, but even you couldn’t deny Oikawa wasn’t as bad as before. He still frightened you and you didn’t dare trust him, but he was definitely being nicer. You’d enjoy it while it lasted.

You were used to Oikawa’s cruel, mocking remarks and cruel treatment. Having Oikawa act like a good person made you feel like you were walking on eggshells. Either it was a joke and he was hoping to catch you off guard or he would surely snap and go right back to his old behavior soon enough.

You thought you made it clear to him that you weren’t interested in whatever he was up to, but he didn’t seem to be taking the hint. Maybe you should be clearer, get it through his stupid head?

No, that wasn’t really how you were. You’d take whatever he gave you and try to work through it. You always had. His weird behavior was just making you a little more daring, that’s all.

Speaking of the devil, Oikawa was practically skipping around the corner, heading straight for you with a smile. You retreated back into the school, hurrying down the now empty halls. He must have come straight for you after your club ended.

You spotted the girls’ bathroom and ran inside. Surely he wouldn’t follow you in here. Surely you were safe.

You were wrong.

Oikawa pushed open the door with his foot, smiling even wider when he noticed you backed up against the sinks. Futile effort though it was, you tried to run for the bathroom stalls, to lock yourself inside, but he caught your upper arm in one large hand.

“I figured out your love language!” Oikawa said cheerily. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you were sure it could be nothing good.

“What are you talking about?”

Oikawa tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Your love language. It’s physical touch.”

Your heart just about stopped in your chest. No. You would not allow this to happen.

“It’s not!” You squealed, pushing him away from you. He was taken off-guard by your reaction, genuinely expecting you to stand still and let him grope you or whatever. He let go, but only for a second, quickly wrapping an arm around your waist.

“No, no, sweetheart, let’s just try it. You just don’t understand what your love language is. I tried every other one, so this has to be it.”

The past few weeks flashed through your mind and you realized, while feeling rather sick, that he’d been trying to find out what your “love language” was. And you had unknowingly stumbled into his trap. Just a sick excuse to touch you, you were sure.

Without you realizing it, Oikawa had backed you up against the wall. You trembled in sheer terror as he reached a hand out and, with childlike wonder, touched your cheek gently. Gentle touches soon turned to rough handling as he pinched and stretched your cheeks apart, grinning at the newfound entertainment.

When he’d left your face raw and flushed, he moved down to your arms, brushing up and down them and comparing your hand size to his own. With a light blush playing across his own face, he intertwined your fingers in his. It was almost sweet, had it not all been against your will.

“Please stop…” the words floated out of your mouth helplessly, but even as you said them, you knew it was a waste of breath.

Oikawa was engrossed in his twisted experiment, his eyes fixated on you as if you were some kind of fascinating puzzle he was determined to solve. One hand played with your shirt hem as you struggled.

“I could go so much farther with you, you know that?” Oikawa asked, his voice disturbingly cheerful.

You closed your eyes and focused on shoving his hands away, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“But I won’t!” The hands disappeared from your skin, and you hesitantly peeked open your eyes to find him greedily drinking in your disheveled form. He smiled endearingly and you could hear him breathe out the words “so cute”.

You shuddered and quietly dared to ask, “Can I go?”

“Mhmm.” Oikawa said distractedly, taking one step to the side to clear the way to the bathroom door.

On wobbly legs, you practically sprinted for the door, throwing it open and racing into the hallway. You didn’t stop running until you had slammed the door to your house behind you. You leaned against it, breathing unevenly and letting the tears finally fall.

You didn’t know what was wrong with Oikawa, but you wanted nothing to do with it.

But you had a feeling he wasn’t done with you.

[luvkyu]

If you're fine with song requests could I ask for a nct jisung x male reader based on the song rumor by h.i.n.p from produce 48, anyways have a good rest of your day!!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8lB-bLoNvI

rumors ( park jisung )

jisung x male!reader

jisung tries to fix things with his secret boyfriend after getting swept up in dating rumors.

content : 1.8k words, angst ( breakup !! ), idol!jisung x non celeb!reader

( a/n ) i <3 nct reqs :( i was gonna make sung more of an asshole in this but i physically could not so i changed it a little and he's actually very sweet but u might cry :/ also keep in mind that the song translations may not be exact !!

'your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice m-"

jisung sighed heavily and lowered his phone from his ear before he could listen to the rest. he practically knew the automated voice tone by heart because of how much y/n had avoided his calls today.

you are toxic, sink into me

i'm dizzy because of you

and i fall for you again

i can't do anything else

nothing had been the same since jisung was sucked into a dating scandal about a month ago. all because he was friends with a girl in another group, everything felt like it was crashing down.

jisung had been in a relationship with y/n for a good seven months - secretly of course, with the exception of some nct members knowing. while jisung was occupied with nct, y/n managed a small but very successful and popular shop in seoul. it was his last wish to be affected by the scandals and hardships of idol life, but when he met jisung through a mutual friend, it all changed.

the first few months of their relationship felt surreal. jisung always wondered if he was the main character of a movie. y/n always kept him on his toes and surprised him with feelings he'd never experienced. any free time on his schedules always went to his boyfriend, in person or facetiming if neither could get away.

this all seemed like a forming memory to jisung now, though. y/n had been increasingly distant. he wasn't calling as much and had less time to spend with jisung - and their time together in person was already limited as it was.

when jisung found a sudden spotlight on himself and another idol friend, he tried his best to stay unaffected and unbothered. being paired in a dating scandal was the last thing he wanted for himself and especially for his boyfriend. prior to the rumors surfacing, y/n already knew jisung and this girl group idol were friends, and had even met her a couple times. he had no problem with her and jisung's friendship. but after the rumors surfaced, it was like everything went to shit. even after both sides denied the rumors, it seemed like everyone still faced the repercussions. jisung was still asked and annoyed about it frequently, which was taxing for him mentally. but despite this, most of his worries still remained on his boyfriend.

y/n grew tired of the situation pretty quickly. he never liked that their relationship had to be kept a secret from the start. he couldn't introduce his friends or even just tell his coworkers about his sweet, lovely boyfriend who made him an indoor picnic because it was simply too hot for one outside. they couldn't go to a coffee shop to just enjoy each other's company unless they kept their hands and lips to themselves.

all these small things that bothered y/n seemed to bubble up to the surface after the scandal unraveled. everything that he tried to ignore and excuse because of his love for jisung was finally just suffocating him. the sad thing was that he didn't even care about jisung and the girl. he cared that he couldn't be who he wanted to be with his own boyfriend. he was beginning to feel like he just didn't exist.

how should i look at you now?

tell me, don't hide feelings, baby

can you give me your heart?

you say that everything is gonna be alright

jisung looked down at his phone, contemplating what to do. after ending the unsuccessful call, his phone went back to the home screen. the photo of himself and y/n always put a smile on his face, but now it just made his heart break.

"you okay?"

jisung jumped at the sudden voice behind him. he turned while setting his phone aside, seeing mark with a worried gaze.

"i dunno. y/n's still not answering me.."

mark frowned.

"hasn't it been all day today?"

jisung nodded. he could feel his throat burn with the urge to cry.

"i'm sorry, sung. it's late though, maybe he's asleep?" mark suggested while setting his hand on the younger's shoulder.

"mm," jisung shook his head, "we always at least say goodnight, though."

mark hated seeing him like this. he took a deep breath and squeezed jisung's shoulder comfortingly.

"why don't you take the day off tomorrow? go to y/n's and figure things out. take a mental health day. you need it."

jisung looked at his friend with glossy eyes. he blinked rapidly for a moment, trying to dismiss the tears. he then cleared his throat and forced a smile before nodding.

"yeah, i think i will."

so, say it to me again

rumor, rumor, rumor

gossip, gossip, gossip

rumor, rumor, rumor

you said you love me

the next morning felt like a blur to jisung. he slept in until noon and took forever to get up and actually shower or eat. the rest of the boys were already gone for a full day of busy schedules, leaving the dorm empty and almost a little eerie. it was odd to be alone in a space that was usually filled with laughter and warmth.

after finally getting himself together, jisung took a final look at himself in his full length mirror. he looked fine, not the best, but fine. a simple gray jacket and black sweatpants was good enough to go see his boyfriend.

y/n ended up sending him a simple good morning text around ten o'clock after basically not talking at all the day before. jisung was thankful for the message, but still felt pretty down with the lack of communication.

once he finally felt up to it, jisung took mark's advice and decided to head to y/n's place. he was restless to talk and sort things out. and he missed y/n more than he could say.

soon arriving at y/n's house, jisung was anxious to actually knock. what if y/n really didn't wanna talk to or see him? what if he just needed more time? what if he wasn't even home?

jisung found himself knocking on the door before he could scare himself away. he knew he needed this despite his overthinking.

y/n answered the door after a minute. jisung's eyes widened at the sight of his messy boyfriend standing in front of him now. it was easy to see that y/n's hair was disheveled even when hid under his jacket hood. his eyes seemed droopy and dark, and his general demeanor was just not himself.

jisung pushed these things aside for now and looked at his partner directly.

"can we please talk?"

y/n was quiet for a second, but gave him a weak smile and welcomed him in. jisung trailed over toward the sofa, y/n following behind.

"i'm sorry for all the shit that's happened, y/n. really, i am. but you avoiding me more and more for the past couple weeks has been killing me. please, let's fix this," jisung reasoned. y/n looked at him, unsure of what to say next. jisung's eyes were big and sincere, it made y/n's heart swell.

"i'm sorry, too. i just.. needed some space i guess," y/n responded quietly.

"i understand that," jisung assured. "because of the dating rumor stuff? cause i hate them as much as you do, y/n. i really think they shouldn't matter.. we can get through it together. i only want to be with you and-"

"jisung."

jisung stopped. y/n's voice was small, almost broken. jisung felt like he knew what was coming, but he didn't want to believe it. y/n looked down before saying the words that jisung had been dreading.

"i can't do this anymore."

i can't refuse you and you destroy me

i'm tired of everything, i don't wanna hear no more

why do you disturb my mind?

i just hate everything

jisung's heart plummeted to his stomach. he took a deep, shaky breath while trying to keep his composure.

"y/n.."

y/n looked up at him, then back down when a couple tears trickled down his cheeks.

"i'm so tired, jisung.."

jisung's own eyes began welling with tears. his throat closed up again as he tried to ignore them.

"but," jisung began, "i love you." he paused to gently cup the sides of y/n's face in his hands. "can't we work on this? we can figure it out, i'm sure."

y/n frowned. he'd always loved the feeling of jisung's large hands against his face, but now it was possibly the most melancholic thing he'd ever known. he took the male's hands away from his cheeks and held them instead.

"you always tell me we'll figure things out, but i don't think i can. i just.. i can't be your secret unimportant boyfriend anymore. it hurts. i'm so tired of hurting.."

jisung was silent for a moment.

"..unimportant? did i really make you feel that way?"

"not you exactly. just.. the situation. i don't blame you for this at all, it's just the way things are with your job. it's not for me.."

jisung nodded at this answer. it wasn't the answer he wanted, but it could've been worse.

the pair stood in silence for a minute, as if soaking up the last moments of their relationship. y/n could feel himself on the verge of a breakdown, and he assumed jisung was feeling something similar.

hurry, tell me something,

i won't be able to listen to you anymore

i'm trapped inside of you,

as if i stopped breathing

"..you should go," y/n mumbled out softly. jisung looked down at his shoes, as if waiting for them to move.

"i don't know if i can.."

y/n's brows furrowed. he finally looked back up at the other.

"what if this is the last time i see you?" jisung asked. "what if this is the last time i get to hold your hands? or be with you in here? i can't-" jisung cleared his throat after feeling himself choke up a bit. his tears finally hit. "if i lose you, y/n-"

"you won't, sung," y/n interrupted his sobs.

they both continued crying for a while, connected hands turning into a very long hug. beneath their romantic relationship was just two friends who loved and trusted each other more than anything, and that wouldn't change.

"you always tell me everything will be okay," y/n spoke up, "so i'm gonna say the same to you now. this will pass, and we'll both be just fine, jisung."

so, say it to me again

rumor, rumor, rumor

gossip, gossip, gossip

rumor, rumor, rumor

you said that everything is gonna be alright

so, say it to me again

[hedonistpoet06]

What If The Storm Ends? - Part 3 Five Hargreeves x Female OC

'What if Five's time during that first apocalypse was slightly different, what if he wasn't alone for all those years?'

Chapter synopsis: Five is plagued by the downfall of his own hubris which got him stuck in the mess of the apocalypse in the first place. Meanwhile, Octavia learns that the strange boy she stumbled across has kept some odd company in the shape of a plastic mannequin. Octavia soon realises that Five's attachment to Delores is no laughing matter, and now Five has to deal with two women living under his roof.

Author's Note: I've started making fic edits on my tik tok 'hed0nistpoet06' so feel free to check it out! <3

Word Count: 3367

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

iii. Octavia, meet Delores

Five successfully time travelled for the first time on the 11th of November, 2002.

The boy’s abrupt departure was charged by the dispute he had shared with his adoptive father, eccentric billionaire and certified asshole, Reginald Hagreeves. As Five opened the obnoxiously grand wooden doors of the academy that he had called home he felt relieved at how easy it was to leave.

For 13 years Five and his siblings had endured the abuse regimented training implemented by their father and during that time simply leaving had never felt like an option to himself or the others. Where would he go? His name and face was plastered all over cheap merchandise throughout the city so if he did hypothetically leave it wouldn’t be long until some recognised him. Then he would have to deal with the repercussions of his father and he knew the man didn’t believe in the concept of mercy.

Five recalled the painful memories that plagued his childhood, all of which shared a common denominator, his father. Reginald trained them to the bone, they were more like working dogs than children to him. Both Five and his siblings had all been conditioned with the same purpose, to save the world. Five thought about the hours they spent being unethically disciplined into becoming the perfect superhuman team.

He thought about it all, the way his lungs would burn from over exertion, the metallic stench of blood which filled his mouth and the suffocating silence of his siblings after they returned home from a mission unsuccessful, terrified of their fathers wrath which was guaranteed.

But Five was finally free.

He had made the choice to ignore Reginalds dismissal of his desire to time travel, after all Five remembered that he was the one who obtained the ability to spatial jump, not his father, so what could the old man possibly know?

However, he was surprised by the fact that neither his father nor any of his siblings had made an attempt to chase after him. His father had called his numerical title from his position at the head of their dining table but made no effort to stop him from leaving. The only one of his siblings that showed any intrigue in his departure was his sister, Vanya, who softly shook her head as he proposed time travel to his father.

He tolerated her the most out of their siblings most likely due to the fact that she was powerless and therefore wasn’t driven by their ego unlike Luther who took his position as Number One within the family extremely seriously.

As Five strode through the street front he had walked down many times before he became elated at this new sense of freedom which consumed him. Because physically leaving was so easy he also grew slightly enraged that he hadn’t thought of fleeing the bounds of this time earlier.

He was ready to time travel, he knew it.

Five had dedicated an obscene amount of blood, sweat and tears into perfecting his spatial jumps, ensuring that his calculations were just right. And when the boy had conquered travelling through space effectively, he yearned to travel through time.

Five focused his energy into performing a spatial jump but instead of fixating on the distance he would cross, he focused on projecting himself forward in time.

He needed to start small, months first, then years.

Then he was suddenly absorbed in that familiar blue light and when he opened his eyes he was thrilled to see and feel the seasonal shift in the atmosphere. From the bright colours that people wore, the humidity of the city air which melted through his academy blazer and the sound of amiable chit chat, Five knew that it was summer.

“Not ready, my ass.” He mumbled under his breath, cursing his fathers previous sentiment.

He had proved him wrong and Five swore he had never felt so content with himself before, and that was saying something.

Feeling adventurous and intoxicated from his own adrenaline high, Five decided to jump again.

The success of his second attempt was confirmed when he found himself on the same street front, only it was surrounded by snow. Five recognised the winter chill amongst the gentle falling of snow and the absence of people.

One more time, Five wanted to jump one more time. Then he would be completely satisfied with himself.

Oh how Five desperately wished he could have stopped himself there. To tell himself that he did not need to make that third, fatal jump. He could practically hear his fathers voice taunting him as the old man recited the Greek myth of Icarus and Daedalus once.

“Must I remind you, Number Five of the tragedy of Icarus. The boy did not heed his father’s warning regarding the fragility of their feather and wax wings. Driven by his own self perpetuated ego, the boy flew too high. Thus, the sun melted his wings and he plunged into the sea.” Reginald had explained this the first time Five had questioned the legitimacy of time travel to him.

Five did not agree with his father but he did wish that he had acknowledged the man's wisdom instead of feeding his own hubris.

When Five jumped he was met with nothing but death and destruction. The silence that surrounded him was harrowing. The only noise that filled his ears was that of burning debris and the reverberation of his own heartbeat.

Everything was destroyed. The buildings which Five had known his whole life had been obliterated into rubble, leaving the street unrecognisable to the boy.

Five panicked as he ran through the remains of the street. Ash was falling from the sky like snow and it filled his nose and mouth, he could taste the annihilation on his tongue but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His thoughts were consumed by one thing, finding his family.

He sprinted and hurled himself over chunks of concrete until he reached the academy, or at least what used to be left of the academy.

What stood in front of Five was now a mere skeleton of the building he used to call home. Despite all the painful memories that inhabited those four walls, Five never wished for it to be completely eradicated.

“Vanya!” She was the first to appear in his mind as he called out into the empty space before him. He heard nothing in response except for the small flickering of flames that consumed some parts of the house’s remains.

“Ben!” Five then thought about his brother who he renowned as the least idiotic of the siblings, second to himself of course. But not even Ben could outwit the grim reality of this current situation Five had found himself in.

“Dad!” He finally called out for his father, his voice breaking slightly. He expected his father to miraculously appear before him and give him some grand ‘I told you so’ lecture and then return home for him to receive his punishment for disobeying him.

He would gladly take the fury of his father over the desolate scene he was witnessing.

“Anyone!” He turned to the street and called out, silently hoping that a lone survivor or two would call for help from under the wreckage.

Once again, Five was met with silence. His own voice appeared to get lost in the endless void of grey industrial butchering.

Five tried to compose himself enough to conjure his energy into his palms and focus on shifting himself back in time. Even if he couldn’t get back to the exact point in which he left, Five wouldn’t care, he just needed to get the hell out of there.

He needed to hear the bickering of his siblings, the god awful jokes that Klaus made, Ben's cynical commentary or the sweet harmonies of Vanya’s violin which embedded itself into every corner of their house.

As Five’s hands were encapsulated by that familiar blue light his hope quickly died when he was met with physical resistance.

An invisible force was lodging itself against Five when he tried to use his power and no matter how he tried or how deeply he concentrated, he couldn’t jump. He felt like two brick walls were closing in on himself, he was suffocating. Five found the simple act of breathing difficult which only hindered his concentration.

His academy uniform was excruciatingly warm compared to his blazing surroundings and ash had wedged itself into the back of his oesophagus, only contributing to his laboured breathing.

Any attempt of using his powers to propel himself backwards proved to be futile. There was absolutely no way of rewinding his actions and erasing this decrepit, lifeless landscape from his mind.

As Five turned to face the remains of the academy once again he was met with the gut wrenching realisation that he was completely and utterly alone in this very moment.

Five crumbled to his knees, ignoring the way the concrete scalded and grazed his skin. The ash then began to rain down even heavier than before, it stuck to his hair, his hands and his skin. It was like he was being absorbed by the end of the world itself.

And at that very moment, Five Hargreeves began to cry.

— -- —

Octavia had left her base with Five the following morning to start their newly forged companionship.

She packed the few belongings that she had into her backpack, Five had so generously offered to carry some too. Octavia didn’t need to take much, mostly clothes, the few knives and other objects she had collected over the two years alone. Nothing really obtained any sentimental value to her anymore, everything which she did own was what she had found out of necessity for survival.

The only tangible object that had remained consistent throughout her time in the apocalypse was a dainty silver necklace her parents had gifted her on her 12th birthday. It wasn't incredibly fancy or expensive, just a simple silver chain and a matching heart shaped pendant and on the back her initials 'OM' had been engraved in italic writing. It may have sounded pathetic but the small piece of jewellery was her last connection to home, to her parents and physical proof that she lived a life before the world had caved in on itself.

Sometimes she found herself running the pad of her thumb over the backside of the pendant just to feel the grooves of the engraving. The silver itself was scratched due to natural apocalypse related wear and tear but she could still clearly feel and trace over the two letters which constituted her initials.

She was honestly impressed the dainty thing had lasted this long.

Despite being somewhat relieved to leave the concrete shack she called home, Octavia couldn’t help but feel a slight heaviness overcome her when she turned around to say one last goodbye to her shelter for the past two years. It kept her safe, protected and somewhat warm during the time she inhabited it and ultimately helped to sustain her survival.

However as she looked towards the boy who was already a few steps ahead of her she felt a twinge of relief knowing that she would no longer be alone.

The walk to Five’s base took the two of them half of the day to complete.

It turned out that Five resided on the complete opposite side of the city. Octavia vocalised her annoyance as the two of them hiked through the rubble of the city, the spring warmth was particularly intense that day. Five rolled his eyes and told her to suck it up and reminded her that there were far worse conditions to be in.

However, Octavia caught him complaining under his breath about why he had agreed to this deal. She didn’t take his remark too seriously, she knew well enough that he wanted this just as much as she did. Their two years of respective solitude was gruelling and unforgiving. A small intrinsic part of Octavia was almost excited to be in the presence of someone else's company for the foreseeable future, especially since Five was just about her age and easy on the eyes, although she wouldn't admit that out loud.

After what felt like an eternity of walking in the spring heat the two finally made it to Five’s base. Upon their arrival, Octavia finally understood what Five meant when he said that his place was more developed than her own. Five had sought refuge in the remains of an old library. Octavia deciphered the battered metal sign that read ‘Argyle Public Library’. The building itself consisted of a circular concrete structure that had somehow withstood the end of the world. Although some of its brick walls crumbled down, leaving it exposed to the elements, Octavia could see where Five had so evidently tried to patch it up and make it liveable. However, half of the ceiling was open, meaning there was still some exposure to the elements.

Octavia stood still in awe of the building, it was almost metaphorical how this cylindrical structure had combatted the apocalypse and somewhat succeeded. The circular architecture reminded her of something from antiquity, like one of those marble temples you’d see in ancient Greece. Only this place was made out of concrete and brick and not elegant marble. It stood proudly amongst the rubble of the city and she was slightly surprised that she hadn’t come across the building before in any of her travels throughout the city.

“Wow.. Five. It’s incredible.” She said, processing it's shockingly decent state.

“It’s not awful. It was the only building I could find that was somewhat standing.” Five walked towards what Octavia presumed was once the doorway, now replaced with a piece of fabric that acted as a curtain.

“It’s impressive.” She followed shortly behind him as he drew back the sheet but stopped abruptly.

Five shifted his weight and turned to look at Octavia. A serious expression painted his face as Octavia shot him a questioning look.

“Before you come in there is something I need to tell you.” He said sternly.

“What is it?” Octavia folded her arms over her chest, eager to hear what the boy was about to reveal.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Five confessed. Truthfully, the whole walk home he had been mentally debating with himself how he was going to approach this situation.

“Five, you’re being weird.” Octavia knew that being weird wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for Five but something about his sudden shift in behaviour had irked her immensely.

“I haven’t exactly been alone all this time.” Five stated and Octavia felt her face flush with rage. She recalled their conversation only two days ago now when the two of them shared their experiences about being alone for two entire years, only to discover that the boy had lied to her.

Octavia secretly hoped that Five was hiding some stray dog and that was what he considered company. Her anger would dissipate if that were the case, Octavia loved animals, she had been surrounded by them every summer she spent on her grandparents farm. There were the usual chickens, pigs, cows but the lambs were her favourite. She especially when the lambs had just been born, no older than a few days and her grandfather allowed her to nurse them a bottle of milk and run her fingers through the soft tufts of wool.

“What the hell do you mean?” Octavia spoke up as she pulled herself out of her own memory which began to cloud her mind.

Five didn't respond. He instead drew back the curtain and gestured for her to step inside. Octavia, although weary, quickly followed suit.

She had almost forgotten about his peculiar revelation when her eyes landed on the interior of his base. It was so incredibly fitting to Five’s character that she almost had to hold a small giggle back.

The base consisted of one large, open circular room. His mattress planted in the upper portion of the room, surrounded by stacks of books. The remaining walls that weren’t completely blown out were covered in equations, the very equations Five had told her about the previous day. Octavia tried to decipher some of the formulas but this level of mathematics was beyond intelligible, it could have resembled scribble to the untrained eye. On the opposite end of the room there were two more guns leaning up against the wall, much like the rifle he wore on his back when the two of them first met. Across every inch of the room were towers of books, some in better condition than others but there was an abundance of them. Octavia almost wanted to cry tears of pure joy when she saw them sitting just a few mere feet away from her. In the centre of the space was a table, she presumed it was once some grand wooden dining table but it had obviously been destroyed. She silently chuckled at the idea of Five trying to fix it, opting for a piece of metal to substitute one of the missing table legs.

Octavia noticed that on top of the table's surface sat a mannequin. She only had the upper half of her body intact and she was missing an arm. Despite her absent appendages she was in somewhat decent condition, only a few scratches and dirt covered her bald head and she was dressed in a black and white polka dot blouse. Octavia shifted her weight between her feet as she waited for Five to say something, to maybe make a joke or laugh it off, instead he stared at its plastic beady eyes with an almost longing look in his eyes. It was honestly the softest, most unguarded expression that she had seen in the two days that she had known him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long dear, I know you hate it when I take off like that.” Five dropped his bag and rifle by the doorway and strode over to the table. He gently reached out a hand and began to rub the mannequin's plastic cheek.

Octavia quickly realised that it was neither a dog or another human person Five was referring to it was a plastic mannequin. She could only describe her as the type of mannequin you'd see in those cheap department stores with the uncanny faces that make you uncomfortable if you stare at them for too long.

“I know. I know. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He mumbled to the mannequin and Octavia was dumbfounded at his sudden shift in behaviour.

The tender and almost affectionate tone of his voice was completely foreign and seemingly out of character. She cleared her throat awkwardly, feeling as if she was interrupting a deeply intimate moment between Five and the mannequin.

Five looked back at Octavia before he gestured a hand to her direction.

“Octavia meet Delores, Delores this is Octavia. Our new roommate.” Octavia couldn't believe that the boy was introducing her to a non sentient piece of plastic.

“Are you telling me you’ve been shagging a mannequin for the past two years?” Octavia had concluded that this wasn't just an act Five was performing to get a rise out of her, he was being entirely serious.

“Don’t talk about Delores like that!” Five quipped back. His voice dramatically shifted from its previously affectionate tone to that of defensiveness.

Five found Delores during his first few weeks into the apocalypse. He considered Delores a real person, she was the closest thing to real which he could find in the debris. Her face was still mostly intact aside from a few scratches and Five was relieved to see something that mildly resembled another human being.

At first he just spoke to her in an attempt to keep himself sane, then he started to wheel her along in his metal trolley which he used on supply runs. Soon, Five wasn't exactly sure when but somewhere along the way she became Delores, it was like the name had just miraculously came to him and it suited her.

Octavia put her hands up in defeat, “Jesus, I guess you really did lose your mind.”

“Don’t listen to her, love. She doesn’t mean it.” Five said softly and Octavia rubbed her forehead in thought. Perhaps this was one quirk she would have to ignore in the name of survival.

“I swear to god Five if I have to hear you two getting it on.” She smirked at the livid reaction that spread across Five's face.