#best believe mans is jamming his thumbs in there when he’s hitting it from the back

[jamessluttythighs]

having unholy thoughts about james seeing reg in this

[soleilapproves]

you condition your roommate, Gojo Satoru, into expecting a forehead kiss every time he leaves for work.

Notes: gender neutral reader

main masterlist

It all started on a Monday morning.

You had read about classical conditioning the night before- when a stimulus is linked to an action that is done routinely. You were feeling cheeky so you decided to test it out on your roommate who you knew had been trying to ask you out for the longest time.

You’ve been waiting for him to explicitly say how he feels but he’s chickened out way too many times. So as revenge, you played mind games with him. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t satisfying to see his shocked expression.

“Satoru, before you leave-“ you skipped to him before he could grab the door handle, and grabbed his arm to turn him towards you.

“-don’t forget this.” You pulled his tie down and kissed his forehead.

The white haired man’s eyebrows reached high enough to almost touch his hairline. “Wha-“

You pushed him out before he could utter another word. “Bye, you’ll be late!”

Soon after that fateful morning, you’d kiss his forehead before work. It became so ingrained in both your routines that he’d simply walk up to you while you were making breakfast and you’d slip him a quick peck.

You almost conditioned yourself to it too. Whenever Satoru would move his hair away from his forehead, your mind would automatically make you lean in towards him. It confused him the first couple times you did it and then you caught yourself on after that. You were the one playing mind games. Not him.

It had been three weeks of giving him forehead kisses when you decided to stop the action.

Your morning started the same way as it always did- you woke up, showered, made your coffee, and then sat down to eat your breakfast. However, it was the opposite for Satoru. He had slept late the night before and woke up with only fifteen minutes to get ready so to say that the apartment looked like it was hit by a hurricane was an understatement.

You saw a flash of white go towards the fridge as you calmly stirred the berries in your oatmeal. “Huh, I was wondering if you had taken the day off.”

“I didn’t. My manager gave me some intern’s report last minute and I had to correct the whole thing. I was up until three am.” You felt bad over how he was rushing to spread jam on his toast so you pulled out a tumbler and began to prepare his coffee as he liked it (so sweet that a hypoglycemic person could be cured).

You could see the effects of sleep deprivation on him- tie crooked, bag half-zipped, shirt tucked out of his slacks and of course, crumbs of bread all of his face. The man looked like a walking mess.

You walked him to the door, handing his tumbler over to him and muttering a small ‘goodbye’ as he shoved his feet in his black leather loafers.

You were about to close the door on him when he stopped you. “Did you forget something?” You innocently asked as you leaned your head to the side while folding your arms.

“No, you did.” He haphazardly moved his hair away from the center of his forehead and pointed at it.

“Why are you doing that?” You wanted to laugh at him so bad but you pinched your arm to prevent it. “What do you mean? You always kiss my forehead.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Yes, I’m way too used to it!” You almost jolted at his urgency. The man was clearly yearning for a forehead kiss.

“But why? It’s weird- only couples do something like that. I don’t know why I did it in the first place.”

“Wow, NOW you care if it’s something couples do?”

Gojo sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “Look, I’m really late right now and I don’t have time to explain myself. All I’m gonna say is this- you, me, date at seven tonight. And you best believe I won’t be late for that. Now give me my kiss.”

Your face was flushed after his sudden boldness and you quickly leaned in to press your lips against his sweaty forehead (you had worked him up with your little prank). “I’ll be waiting.” You grinned.

And he had walked right into your trap.

Gojo scoffed at you before closing the door with a small slam. You began jumping as soon as he was out of your vision but your celebration was soon stopped when the door opened

“What now?” You groaned.

The man simply pulled you towards him by your elbow and left a sweet kiss on your cheek. “This.”

—

Trust me when I say that playing mind games like this is a lot of fun. My ex situationship can’t listen to Childish Gambino without thinking of me 🙏

[sold2vlaykz]

Dangerous hands.

Prompt- Slashers and fem! manual sex/frottage. (Fingering-Eating out)

Featuring: The blind man, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees,Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Gabriel may, Charles Lee Rey.

Warning!- Hand in V sex, Cursing, mild fluff, period play,

The blind man- Don’t breath

Despite spending quite some time alone, he knows what he’s doing.

He’s just as skilled with his hands when it comes down to fingering just as it is with murdering.

He enjoys fingering you, making you feel good while he feels you vibrating the bed from how bad he’s making you shake, your whimpering echoing off the walls like music in his ears.

And believe it or not him fingering you is a common occurrence, you’re angry? Let him take some heat off, you’re happy? Let him make you happier.

He’ll start off slow, taking a nice range of motion listening out for your moans, he’ll let you guide him into you.

As soon as he hits that spot he’s like a spider in the night, attacking that sweet soft area until you can’t take it anymore slowly pulling you apart, he’ll take his time with you, you can’t handle it? He’ll slow down, want him to stop? You can take a ten minute break in the middle of it.

He’s ready to do whatever makes you feel good.

Based on his age he doesn’t really know how to use vibrators other than you helping him put it on your clit.

He’ll put pressure on it with his thumb, sweet little circle motions with his pinky finger at the bottom of your inner labia, fingering you with his middle finger and ring finger.

And god it felt heavenly, he’d suck on your slit meanwhile his hands are entering you at a quickened pace.

It’s unlike him it’d take you less than five minutes to cum under all his pressure and glory.

His expertise made it easier, his knowledge of the female anatomy.

He loves it when you grind on him, pressuring his knee on your clit as you desperately get yourself off.

A little sad he can’t watch your tears stream down your face and your mouth agape as you scream.

He’d make you sit on his lap as he bounces his knee up and down while talking to you.

Fingering you with one hand while he reads a book in braille in the other.

The feeling of his knee and hands overstimulating you all together.

-

Michael Myers- Halloween 1978

He understood your need to pleasure yourself, but didn’t quite understand why you’d rather do that instead of taking his cock.

If you begged him enough about it he would, just jamming his fingers in there or either letting you grab his wrist and do all the work.

His hands were thicker and longer, so they worked much better than yours.

Sometimes when he fingered you it either ended up in straight rough sex or him just letting you do it alone.

It was common for it to happen, a rare golden moment. Most of the time he just fucked you when you felt horny or let you use your toys on yourself.

Most of the time it took twenty minutes, the room full of your mounds and your pussy’s wet sounds.

Michaels fingers reached deep, always stretching you super wide. Confused on why you always came all over him despite his lack of motion.

He isn’t really fond of fingering, prefers sex. Wanting to pleasure both of you, well more so him but you get some of it.

He didn’t care about grinding, but if your desperate enough go ahead and get off, he’ll get horny watching his leg get soaked, doesn’t care if your on your period or not.

As long as he gets to stuff his dick in something wet.

-

Jason Voorhees- Friday the 13th

Jason is pretty strong, unnaturally strong.

He’s worried that if he goes too rough that he’ll hurt you, rip you apart even.

He’s super careful, he enjoys making you feel good, watching your face contort of pleasure and what pace to keep.

He’s willingly to offer if you need some, even willing to help you use some of your vibrators on yourself because he thinks it safer.

He’s not the best at it so he depends on your help, he doesn’t really enjoy doing it himself because he can actually rip you. Or just hurt you in general, he likes your little sounds knowing he’s doing good despite your guiding.

Him fingering you is often! He’s willing to help, especially on your cycle. He’s used to blood-clots and nasty/odd smells.

If it makes you feel better he’ll finger you while you’re bleeding, cramping, anything to take the pain off.

If he’s too tired to have sex with you after a long day he’ll use his hands, it’s not that he’s not into you it’s just that it’s hard to be horny after some trespasser just shot him in the leg.

It usually takes you ten minutes to cum all over him, though there are some times where he does it by himself making you cum quicker and boy is he proud of himself.

When you grind on him it makes him flustered, heat burning his ears watching you whimper as you hump his leg like a dog in heat.

Bouncing his leg a little to help you more.

He’ll be more than happy to help you, you want him to pressure his knee on your clit? He’ll do it, at whatever pace you want.

Jason’s a very obedient man, whatever you want.

He likes watching you teach him, seeing how much determination in your eyes.

How patient you are when it comes down to him hurting you and making mistakes.

-

Thomas Hewitt- TCM 2003

Thomas isn’t really fond of fingering, it makes him frustrated especially when he can’t get you to cum.

Sometimes you’ll just want a quickie with his hands but that’ll leave him pent up and horny, despite that he’ll do what you want him to do.

Ignoring the bulging hard on in his pants.

His hands are very thick, makes it easier to stretch your walls. He enjoys how soft and mushy you feel inside.

He enjoys eating you out while finger fucking you though, he doesn’t really feel any pressure on his face so his tongue can reach deeper, sucking all over your inner labia, while jamming his fingers into your tight hole.

He loves it when you grind on him, it’d just end up in both of you humping eachother like wild animals.

Sometimes he eventually just fucks you, hard and rough. To the point where you’re holding your teeth down in his teeth, trying to muffle your moans and screams.

How proud of himself as you look all fucked out, just by his knees, fingers, tongue or cock.

When he saw you use your toys he became shy, just watching as you played with yourself in the most innocent fashion.

Watching you insert shaped things into yourself, and the loud moans you let out in response, watching you clench around the object and tremble.

He helped you one time but then you two began to have sex and your legs were numb and shaking.

The pain you felt after was remarkable, so both of you had to learn that you it was better he just watched you or stayed away while you did it, despite his lack of self control.

-

Vincent Sinclair- House of wax

Vincent was very passionate about fingering you, he was careful. Not exactly precise based on his lack of experience, but he was soft,

He followed your every lecture and move, even read books about it just to make you feel better.

His index finger rubbing your inner labia, middle finger plunging deep and thoroughly in your vagina opening.

He wasn’t the best at first but became more understanding with your guidance.

Despite what’s thought of him he can be very rough, he’s very sex deprived and enjoys any sexual friction, grinding, fingering, oral.

Any intimacy, from rough fingering to sweet grinding.

He loved pleasuring you, he loved gaining skills, and sex was considered one.

Grinding some something you enjoyed and shared, Vincent was in heat, desperately. He didn’t waste any time to do something romantic or just sexual with you.

Vincent was very good with his tongue, sloppily making out with you as you grind on his knee, or simply grinding on his face.

You didn’t have toys, so it was up to Vincent to make you feel as best as he could.

He doesn’t really have any tactic when it comes down to fingering you, just jamming his fingers as deep and he could until he finally hit your spot.

Sucking and licking hungrily until you came all over his fingers and face.

Grinding with you two wasn’t rare, he’d hump your ass as you were bent over on the bed heaving and puffing over you.

Keeping you close trying to get as close as he can pressuring your body on his until you couldn’t be hugged tighter.

-

Gabriel May- Malignant

Gabriel was utterly sex deprived, he enjoyed giving, happy that he could make you feel good.

He knew a lot about fingering considering he had a woman’s body.

He loved touching you his hands diving deep in your folds, cupping your wetness with one hand pinching your clit with another. Putting pressure on the hood of your slit, knuckle on your urethral opening.

Gabriel knew how to make you cum, despite his lack of sexual interaction.

If you want it rough he’d just focus on stretching his fingers inside.

He knows comfortable positions, especially due to his odd anatomy, he didn’t really enjoy grinding but he knew why you liked it.

He couldn’t see your face while you did it, and it was even awkward for you looking at his sister’s face if you would’ve done it.

You two keep best terms with fingering and using toys.

He’d apply the toy on your clit letting it buzz and vibrate your legs, or insert a toy in you by your wishes.

Plucking at your urethra while sucking the head of your vagina, Gabriel didn’t mind hair or blood.

Seeing he shares a similar body.

-

Charles Lee Rey- Childs play

Charles was a kinky guy; he enjoyed anything that involved sex between the two of you, like phone sex, grinding, or eating you out.

He didn’t really like shaped toys like dildos, but he didn’t mind slight vibrators.

He didn’t like the thought of something else filling you, jealous of how much you used them instead of craving his cock.

He likes it when you grind on him, calling you his “desperate bitch in heat.” As you fucked yourself tired on him.

Fingering you in public places, forcing you to keep your voice down as he completely destroyed your pussy.

If someone caught you? They’d just get shot. Not because they caught you but because they saw you in only a way he should.

Bending you over in an alley before rubbing his hard on- on your ass.

Just hard grinding against each other bashing his clothed cock on the back of your pussy, often you wearing skirts so he could get easier access.

He’ll plunge his fingers deep into you at a movie theater, in a restaurant, in the middle of a robbery.

Wanting you to wake him up with his face covered in pussy, licking and sucking trying to get every part of wetness from you. Barely being able to breathe yet still lapping up your juices.

His face covered in your wet slick, with his fingers digging in the opening of you.

Sometimes just wanting to eat you before heading out.

-

AU-Open to criticism!

[dudeandduchess]

Kyojuro and “I like the way your hand fits in mine.” if you have the time and energy please. Thank you.

Hey hey, Ren!!! I hope you like it! ❤️‍🔥 I had this idea since a couple of days ago, and me and Biz just fleshed it out during a jam session. Now, here’s me polishing it for a fic. The prompt was just so perfect that I had to put it here. I hope you like it! 😌❤️‍🔥

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Ramen Nights (Fluff, Modern AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: Wherein Kyōjurō’s wife wakes up with a craving for ramyeon. Full domestic fluff.

Kyōjurō didn’t even know what time it was. All that he knew that was there was something shaking him awake. At first, his initial thought was to wake his wife up and run out of their apartment— with her slung over his shoulder— in case it was an earthquake. However, he was proven wrong, and really dragged from his sleep, when she called his name out in a whisper.

“Kyō? Kyōjurō?” (Y/n) uttered in a tiny whisper, all while moving her hand on her husband’s arm, to start poking his chest. “Kyō, wake up.”

He didn’t even want to open his eyes, and everything in his body told him to keep sleeping, but his wife’s soft pleas had him cracking his eyes open, all while he stretched his arm that she had been using as a pillow. “Mm? Yeah, baby? Are you okay?”

Instead of answering immediately, (Y/n) had to pause— both physically and mentally— as she made the mistake of looking too closely up at Kyōjurō. Even with how horrible the light from her bedside lamp made her look, it still made the blond look so handsome.

He was so close to looking ethereal, in her opinion. But she wasn’t going to tell him that; he already had a big enough head— especially with her entire family loving him so much. Deep down though, she still believed that he was the most handsome man in the world.

“(Y/n)? Is something wrong?”

At that, the young woman quickly shook her thoughts from her head— knowing that she would pick them up at a later hour. Then slowly, her lips quirked up into a small smile, as she made sure to give her husband her best pleading look. “I’m hungry, Kyō. I want some ramyeon.”

Her craving played right into her husband’s skillset too, which had her waking him up in the first place. Had she craved for anything else, she would have gotten up and done it herself, because for all of Kyōjurō’s perfection, he also had some flaws.

Like how he couldn’t cook anything except fried eggs, rice, and instant ramen. And that hadn’t been without months of teaching Kyōjurō how to do things just right— including cleaning the kitchen up spotlessly afterwards. Even Senjurō had been pleasantly surprised when Kyōjurō had made him rice and a fried egg when he came over to visit.

“Ramyeon is the spicy one, right? That Korean one you like.”

Slowly, (Y/n)’s small smile tipped up into a sweet grin, silently thanking the gods that she had such a kind husband. “Yes, the one that has the same name as your dad.”

“My dad… Shin…” The young man mumbled softly, before cracking a smile and turning so he could press a kiss to his wife’s forehead. “Dad ramen. That’s funny.”

It really wasn’t, but Kyōjurō was just so adorable that (Y/n) didn’t have the heart to tell him that. “With two eggs, okay?”

“I know, baby. And add green onions if we have them, as well as mushrooms,” The blond answered with a grin, as he reluctantly pulled away from his wife and got out of bed. However, even if he had already kissed her forehead, he still leaned down and brushed another kiss against the top of her head.

“I love you, Kyō,” (Y/n) bid gently, all while trying to bite back a blush and a flustered smile that wanted to make themselves known on her face.

However, her effort was all for naught when Kyōjurō answered, “I love you more.”

And with that, he slipped his home slippers on, before making his way to the kitchen to make her request. All the while, (Y/n) sat up on the bed and turned the TV on to keep her occupied while waiting for her midnight snack.

After all, she didn’t want to miss out on another one of hers and Kyōjurō’s ‘Ramen Nights’. Safe to say that it was a common occurrence in their household, that’s why it had gotten a name in the first place. And it was during those nights that she got to spend time with her husband— without life getting in the way and cutting their time short; as the world was already asleep, and they were free to just bask in each other’s company.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Kyōjurō to cook her ramyeon; coming back to their room with it in a bowl paired off with only one set of chopsticks.

They were so used to that song and dance that (Y/n) immediately turned the TV off, before hitting the switch for Kyōjurō’s bedside lamp— illuminating their room even more— before she set off to wait for him to sit down by the end of her bed. And once he was all settled, she gingerly climbed onto his lap— wanting to straddle him, but settling for sitting sideways instead.

“Made with extra love,” Kyōjurō whispered as he handed the bowl over to her, all before pressing the gentlest of kisses against her cheek. “Just for you, baby.”

“Thank you, Kyō,” (Y/n) uttered sincerely, giving him a peck on his lips in return— and also earning the most adorable blush on his cheeks. Even after five months of being married, and two years of being together, he never ceased to be so cute whenever she caught him off guard.

After that, all conversation between them stopped; it was just the two of them enjoying each other’s company— with (Y/n) taking turns feeding Kyōjurō too. They were in their own little bubble, and it was obvious that they loved it there; judging by the tiny smiles and the lingering kisses that they shared every once in a while.

“This tastes even spicier from your lips,” Kyōjurō whispered after pulling away from one such kiss. He even made a show of licking his own lips, then winking at his wife— which was totally worth it when she started giggling like a teenager. “You make it so spicy, baby.”

“What would I have ever done without you, Kyō?”

“You don’t have to think about that, since I’d have always found a way to meet you,” At that, the young man took the empty bowl from his wife’s hands and set it down next to him on the bed. Then he wrapped on arm around her waist, as the other one wrapped around one of her hands— which she had set down on her thighs.

Slowly, he brought the hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to each of her fingers; before rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in an effort to soothe her. “After all, you’re my soulmate.”

(Y/n) felt her tears prickling the backs of her eyes at that, but she blinked in the hopes of keeping them at bay. She didn’t want to ruin such a good time with the waterworks— even if her pregnancy hormones were the one responsible for her being so emotional.

Seeing that, Kyōjurō brought her hand back up to his lips, before tightening his grip on it. “Have I ever told you how much I love the way your hand fits in mine? Like you were made just for me.”

It was a clear ploy to distract her from her tears, but it only served to make her heart melt even more for her husband. “You’re too perfect for me, Kyō.”

“You’re wrong, baby. You’re the one who’s perfect; my perfect wife.” Those words didn’t fail to finally have the waterworks running; (Y/n) could even feel her face scrunching up into one of her undesirable crying expressions, so she quickly wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck— even burying her face against his skin.

“I love you.”

Instead of pulling her away to check on her, Kyōjurō brought his arms up and wrapped them tightly around (Y/n)— even rubbing her back as she kept on whispering her words of love for him. He would be crazy to even turn her away, when he loved every single thing that she was saying; especially adding in the fact that she was pregnant with their first child.

Kyōjurō could only hold her closer to him, before pressing a kiss to the side of her face, before grazing his lips by her ear. “I love you the most, (Y/n). I’m never letting you go.”

[talatomaz]

lockdown | jj x fem!teen!reader

a/n: i can’t believe that a year ago today, the last ever episode of criminal minds aired. i miss jj so much 🤧

this is sort of in line with my own experiences (to a certain extent). and there’s not as much jj x d!r as i’d intended but I hope you still like it.

(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)

requested by @ouat2017 : “could you do a jj x daughter where the daughter’s school is on lockdown and jj is worried or something like that?”

warnings: gun violence. blood

word count: 2.6k

masterlist | request list | request rules

r is jj’s 18 year old adopted daughter and suddenly finds herself on lockdown after someone brings a gun into her school

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Look, you’re the one that needs to be tutored so can you please focus?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.

You were currently in the tutoring centre trying to help a self-absorbed jock pass English so he could remain on the school’s football team.

Looking around you, you saw a handful of students giving both you and Cameron - the man-child you were tutoring - disparaging looks.

“You’re not supposed to be yelling at me. You’re meant to be telling me the answers.”

The aforementioned narcissist leaned against his chair, smirking at you in a way that made you fight to hide a shudder.

You could have easily wiped the grin off his face by mentioning who your mother was and who she worked for but instead, you decided to just continue ignoring his advances and carry on teaching him.

“That’s not how this works, Cameron. Now either you listen to me or you fail and get kicked off the team. And quite frankly, I’d rather the latter happen.”

You watched as his brows furrowed in confusion. Sighing, you answered, “latter means the second thing of two things mentioned in a sentence. Now, for the love of God, just finish writing your paragraph on Heller's satire of capitalism in Catch-22.”

You let out a breath of relief when he finally relented and started to scribble on his sheet of paper. You glanced over at one of your friends, who was also tutoring for extra credit, and smiled when she rolled her eyes at Cameron’s actions.

Leaning against the large desk that stood at the front of the room, you relished in the long-awaited silence aside from hushed whispers that came from other students asking for help.

Taking out your phone, you glanced at the screen to see that it was only midday and soon the lunch bell would be ringing.

You smiled softly at your lock screen.

It was a photo of you and JJ, your adoptive mother.

It was taken a few weeks prior at your 18th birthday party. You’d been living with JJ for almost 5 years now; her having fostered you before later adopting you when you were 14.

You still didn’t know what she saw in you on that day you’d first met her - you’d lost your family in a home invasion, barely surviving yourself - but whatever it was, you were grateful because you’d gotten a second chance at life.

Several minutes passed and you’d only broken from your train of thought when you heard someone clearing their throat beside you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw your friend, the one who’d rolled her eyes earlier at Cameron, standing beside you.

“I see you finally got him to do his work.” She whispered, loud enough for your ears only.

“Barely. He still has an essay to write and hasn’t even finished a paragraph yet.”

“I would have smacked his sorry ass by now.”

You laughed before clamping your hand over your mouth, her comment having caught you off guard.

“Ally!” You whisper-shouted, playfully hitting her arm.

She looked at you with a raised eyebrow causing you to smirk, “Trust me, I’ve thought about it but-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a large bang rang out, shattering the silence the room had once held.

With wide eyes, your head whipped to the door where the gunshot had presumably come from and you listened as the hallways were filled with panicked screams.

Running to the door, ignoring the gasps and shouts from the other students behind you, you turned the lock on the door, pulled down the blinds, switched off the lights and jammed a chair under the handle.

Looking up, you saw everyone had the same look of panic in their eyes; a few were crying, including Ally, and others were pale with shock, Cameron was one of them.

“Guys, we’re gonna be okay but we have to be quiet.” You whispered harshly, constantly looking over your shoulder at the door, listening for any indication of the shooter coming your way.

Everyone stared at you, as if you were the leader of a camp and they were small children awaiting for further instruction.

You supposed it wasn’t far off.

By taking charge, you were the one who’d been unwillingly given the role of protector.

“First things first,” you walked over to the group of 10 students, “I need you all to make sure your phones are on silent. We can’t risk being caught.”

You watched as everyone followed your instructions.

“I know you all want to call your parents but that’s going to attract attention to us so for right now, we need to be quiet.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest and as you spoke, one thought repeated in your head. JJ.

Taking out your phone, you scrolled to find your mother’s name in your contacts. You watched as your thumb hovered over her name.

Just breathe, y/n. Breathe.

Tapping your mother’s name, you brought the phone to your ear.

“I thought you said we couldn’t call anyone.”

Your eyes locked onto Cameron’s, his face pale and his eyes filled with terror and a hint of anger.

“My Mum works for the FBI.” You whispered as the phone rang out.

Any other time and you probably would have laughed at the way his face grew paler, if that was even possible. But, in a situation this tense, it was going to be difficult to find any levity.

Your Mum picked up on the second ring and you let out a shaky breath when you heard her voice.

“Hi baby. A bit early for your lunch, isn’t it?”

You closed your eyes at her soft tone, as if you were trying to engrave the way she spoke into your mind lest you would never hear it again.

From your lack of response, the blonde sensed there was something up, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

A single tear dropped down your cheek as you struggled to maintain a steady tone. Catching a glimpse of Ally staring at you, you steeled yourself and spoke.

“Mum, you need to come quick. Someone’s brought a gun into school.”

“Oh my-AARON.”

You winced when you heard her shout for her boss, listening as you could hear her run up stairs. You held your breath as she filled Hotch in on what was happening before telling Garcia to hack into your school’s security system.

“Are you okay? Stupid question. But are you hurt?”

“Mum,” you interrupted her rambling, “I’m fine. I’m in the tutoring centre with 10 other people. I don’t know how many people are injured. It just all happened so fast.”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

Though you could hear the clear panic in her voice, her words did bring some form of reassurance to you.

“Penelope’s hacking into the system so hopefully she can have eyes soon.”

As she spoke, you could hear the clacking of keys in the background of the call; presumably Garcia doing exactly what JJ said.

“Mum?” You questioned when you heard Garcia swear.

Instead of JJ answering, the usually peppy tech analyst replied, her voice shaky and wet, as if she was crying.

“Y/N, thank God you’re okay.”

“What’s wrong, Garcia?”

“Someone’s disabled the cameras remotely. I can only get them back online if someone reprograms them from the inside.”

Grasping what she was explaining, you nodded, “I’ll fix them.”

“What? No!”

Your mother had taken the phone off of Garcia.

“You are not leaving that room, y/n. We’ll find another way in.”

“Mum, someone needs to fix the system from inside the school. I need to do it.”

Ignoring your mother’s worried shouts, you continued to speak, “Mum, I have to. I love you.”

You disconnected the phone and switched it off, preventing her from being able to call you back.

“Y/N, you are not leaving this room.”

You’d only just realised that everyone had been watching you intently during that entire interaction.

“Yes, I am.”

Moving away from the huddle, you rose to your feet and replied to your friend.

Cameron rose to his feet and towered over you as he challenged you, “No, you are not. You’re going to put us in danger.”

“Do you know how to hack into our school’s security system and then reconnect the transformer and enter the Mastercode?”

His face contorted to a look of confusion making you reply,

“Exactly.”

Turning to leave, you felt a large hand enclose around your arm.

“I said, you’re not leaving.”

Your eyes flickered from Cameron’s hand up to his face that dared you to take another step.

“Remove your hand from my arm before I remove your hand from your body. You may letter in football but I’ve been trained by some of the best FBI agents there are and unless you want to end up in a sleeper hold, I suggest you shut up and do what I say for once.”

His harsh grip almost immediately lessened as his hand returned to his side.

“Good. Now, have any of you been shot? No? I didn’t think so. Well, I have and whoever did get shot is probably bleeding out in the hallway. I can’t not do anything.”

No one dared to respond and instead, shook their head ‘no’ at your asking if anyone else would try to stop you.

Content that you weren’t going to deal with any more unnecessary distractions, you made your way to the door and gently removed the chair that was beneath the handle.

“Ally, you’re in charge. Lock the door when I leave. By my count, the FBI will be here soon. And Cameron, you do anything stupid and I’ll shoot you myself.”

Unlocking the door, you stepped out into the empty hallway and hastily made your way to where the main security hub was located.

Just a couple of hours ago, all you had wished for was silence but now that your wish had been granted, all you wanted was to hear the playful shouts and conversations between your friends and fellow students.

The silence that currently fell on your school was unnerving and unbearable. And with each step you took, you flinched at the sound your shoes made against the marble floor. Each noise practically acting as a beacon for the shooter to come find you.

You let out a sigh of relief when you found the Hub and you quickly worked to reconnect the security system. Typing on the laptop that rested atop one of the servers, you couldn’t help the smile that formed when all the cameras re-engaged.

Tapping on one of the keys, you navigated through the various cameras, looking for any indication of the shooter or of any injured people. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of someone.

Squinting at the screen, you saw, what appeared to be a freshman - since you didn’t recognise him as being a part of your year - laying on the ground, a hand clutching his stomach as blood coated his clothing.

Immediately knowing where he was, you cautiously made your way to the east hallway before running when you noticed him laying on the ground, his blood coating the once-white marble floor.

Falling to your knees, you pressed your hands against his wound, trying to stop the steady flow. He groaned out in pain, tears staining his face.

“H-Help me.” He choked out.

“What’s your name?”

“Jackson. But everyone c-calls me J-Jack.”

“Jack, you’re going to be okay. I just need you stay with me, okay? I’m-”

“Y/N.”

You failed to hide the surprise from your face making the younger teen smile despite his predicament.

“You’re t-tutoring Cameron. Everyone knows who you are. Y-You’re the one who doesn’t take any of his shit. I think h-he likes you.”

“Well, tough shit for him. I may be bi but he’s definitely not my type.”

Jack’s laugh quickly turned into another groan of pain.

Unzipping your jacket with one hand, you used the other to keep pressure on his wound. After removing the jacket, you harshly pressed it against his torso and watched as it barely absorbed the blood.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. I won’t let you.” You said, tears filling in your eyes as memories rushed back of when you tried to save your brother after he’d been shot.

“You’re going to be okay. I just need you to-”

You stilled when you heard footsteps come up behind you.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You didn’t recognise the voice and couldn’t bring yourself to turn around to face the person who’d caused all this pain.

You opened your mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say.

Closing your eyes, you readied yourself for your inevitable death when a shot rang out and a body slumped to the ground beside you.

Jumping at the action, you turned around and almost collapsed in relief at what you saw. Your Mum and her team stood behind you with several SWAT members flanking them.

The tears that had once filled your eyes now spilled shamelessly down your cheeks.

Without saying a word, JJ holstered her gun and ran to your side, hugging you as best she could since your hands were still pressed against Jack’s wound.

Paramedics soon followed and after that it was all a blur. It was as if you were floating outside of your body. Logically, you knew it was the effects of an adrenaline crash but you felt so disconnected from your body.

You barely took note as your mother gently lifted you to your feet, allowing you to be briefly looked over by the paramedics. Nor as your mother escorted you to one of the school bathrooms where she rinsed the blood off your hands.

You didn’t even say a word until you’d arrived back at the BAU where a worried Penelope wrapped you in a tight hug which you returned.

“I’m gonna take her up to my old office, Hotch.”

The Unit Chief simply nodded as he and the rest of the team watched as JJ led you to the abandoned office that was still filled with random case files.

Closing the door, she sat you down on her sofa and stared at you, not touching you in fear that even a simple caress would cause you to shatter.

You exhaled a long breath before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

Her brows narrowed, “Sorry? Sweetheart, why?”

You looked at your hands that had been coated in blood less than an hour before and then up at your mother; her blue eyes filled with nothing but concern, love and confusion.

“You told me not to leave and I did. I’m sorry.”

And with that, you started to cry heart-wrenching sobs that made your shoulders shake.

JJ gathered you in her arms, gently rocking you as her long blonde hair draped over you.

“It’s okay, y/n. I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

Her arms wrapped tightly around you as she laid soft kisses on your head, her hand stroking your back.

That only served to make you burrow into her even more, seeking comfort in her motherly embrace.

You muttered your apologies as she continued to reassure you that you were okay.

JJ was afraid that if she stopped, you wouldn’t be here, safe in her arms.

Still rocking you in her arms, she whispered in your ear,

“I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

[novelconcepts]

Hi! I dunno if you‘ve been asked this before: what do you think would have happened if Eddie hadn’t appeared the first time Jamie and Dani kissed? How would that scene have ended?

Some brands of courage, Dani thinks, come to a person only because the stars have aligned to a particular degree. Grief has nested too deep for too long and there’s a ridiculous amount of wine in the bloodstream and there’s a pair of warm, understanding eyes inches away. It’s not an excuse, letting all of this wind together into here we are. It’s not even a drunken accident, a marker of her pain, a marker of how long she’s wanted to try something like this.

It’s just alignment. Beautiful, wonderful, unexpected.

That she’s finally kissed Jamie feels like a miracle--she’s wanted to, half a dozen times since coming to this place, and has talked herself out of it just as often. It simply hadn’t been the right time, she’d thought, or place, or situation. Not in the bedroom, with Jamie’s breath soft on her neck, Jamie’s hands gently guiding a zipper out of place; there had been too much in the air between them, an electric uncertainty bordering on home in ways Dani hadn’t been able to look at too closely. Not out by Jamie’s truck, either, with the watchful glow of the moon bearing down and Jamie’s hand curled questioningly around her own; there had been too many words waiting in the wings, Dani unable to find language for all of them at once. And certainly not on the couch in that room, Jamie drawing deep breaths, her throat working around a swallow that had seemed to carry secrets Dani so desperately wanted to understand. 

She’d wanted, and she’d known it would crack something open--in Jamie, or in herself, or between them both--if she’d moved into that desire with open arms.

But here: here, in a shadow-speckled greenhouse, with Jamie’s collar firm under her hands, Jamie’s grin pressed to her lips, it’s different. Everything has lined up, finally, in a way Dani can understand. To form a path Dani can follow.

And following it, she is. Without thought. Without pause. 

Without question.

“You sure?” Jamie’s already said once, and is repeating now. Dani isn’t looking over her shoulder this time, isn’t seeking the certainty of ghosts in this place. He has no place here, she believes with sudden fierce warmth. This is not his to intrude upon. It’s Jamie’s. Jamie, stamped into every table and window, Jamie’s hands having constructed everything about it that matters. Jamie selects which plants to grow and tend and weed. Jamie brought in the blanket draped over the sofa now, the watering can, the spare pair of boots. Jamie’s tools, Jamie’s coveralls, Jamie’s presence everywhere she looks. 

If she was looking.

She isn’t. 

Her eyes are closed, her hands skidding clumsily up to grip the shoulders of Jamie’s almost comically-oversized jacket. She hasn’t been able to bring herself to touch Jamie just yet--not her face, not her hair, not her hands. It seems like a bridge waiting just there, a bridge to somewhere warmer, safer, more comfortable. She’s not sure she’s yet earned rights to that world.

Jamie’s jacket makes sense. Like Jamie, it is sturdy. Like Jamie, there is no question of its purpose. Holding the collar in her fists, Dani feels as though she has been offered an anchor in a storm, concrete unfolding beneath her feet for the first time in far too long.

Jamie doesn’t seem to have the same qualms. Jamie, whose hands are so alive, as Dani has never seen--fingers sliding into her hair, cupping around her ear, gently cradling her jaw. Jamie, who seems unable to get enough of Dani--not the soft purple of her coat, but Dani herself. As though this is all Jamie has wanted since Dani first arrived.

They’ll talk about it someday, Dani is sure--about how much of that is truth, and how much is simply romantic mid-kiss fever. Jamie hasn’t wanted her since Dani arrived. Jamie has watched her with guarded eyes, small smiles, keeping her body just out of reach. Jamie has only, surely, started wanting her recently.

She doesn’t think that matters. Not really. Not with Jamie kissing her this way now, lips parted in a soft sound of acceptance. It was so easy, once upon another woman’s life, to believe love only counted if it was instant, if it was always, if there was no beginning and no end--an ouroboros of sorts she wasn’t to question. 

That had been his way of thinking. Now is forever, and always was; don’t ask me for more. 

She could ask Jamie. She could pull back now, meet Jamie’s eyes, and Jamie would wait. Patient. Curious. Jamie would wait, and Dani could ask--when did you decide, she’d say, to want me?--and Jamie would give her as true an answer as she knows how. She can already tell that’s just Jamie’s way. Truth is not softer than fabrication, maybe, but it is kinder, in the end, and it is easier to fall back on than trying to keep all those balls in the air.

Dani knows that much. 

I don’t like bein’ lied to, Jamie had said only a few moments before, and Dani can’t tell her the truth with words. Doesn’t know how, not yet. But she can tell her the truth with the rest--with every piece of her not bound up in the fear, and the shame, and the guilt she’s been trying so hard to outrun since that squeal of tires on a slick blacktop road. She can tell her the truth with every piece of her not bound up in him. 

She keeps her eyes closed, kissing Jamie, and lets herself go. Lets herself sink into the rough fabric of Jamie’s jacket between clutching fingers--into Jamie’s tongue sliding smoothly into her mouth--into Jamie’s palms pressing to her cheeks like she’s holding something sacred. She lets herself push into Jamie, her hands sliding around Jamie’s back to grip that jacket like a lifeline. She lets herself lean back when Jamie pushes in return, laughing a little when her shoulders hit the arm of the sofa. 

“You’re sure?” One last time, for good measure, because wishes are always dosed out in threes. Because Jamie, leaning over her--looking, for the first time since Dani has met her, tall, almost expansive in a way that strips the breath from Dani’s chest--doesn’t want her to just say it. Jamie, leaning over her in this oversized work jacket and that tempting black dress, wants her truth--whatever that looks like. 

The truth is, Dani is sure.

The truth is, Dani is terrified.

The truth is, Dani thinks if she were only one or the other, she’d know this was wrong. That she’s both--that she has never wanted anything more than Jamie’s thumb pressing lightly to the corner of her lips, Jamie’s body pressing her down into firm cushions, and has never felt quite so alive with fear at the same time--is right. It’s how it should be. It’s the good kind of sure, with every clamor of her heart singing its agreement, and the best kind of fear, adrenaline skipping spikes down her limbs. 

If she looks past Jamie now, if she chances a glance at the starlight reflecting off the black greenhouse windows, she might find the other kind of sure. The other kind of terror. The ones still wrapped up in a man whose hands had gone from warm to imposing before she’d known it was happening. If she looks past Jamie now, all the good will rush out of her, and the grief will rush back in. 

She looks only at Jamie’s face. Jamie’s crooked little smile. Jamie’s hair, falling out of its carefully-mussed bun, tumbling at last into eyes that seem to register nothing in this room--in this world--except Dani stretched out beneath her. 

“I’m sure,” she says, and it seems to be exactly what Jamie needs. Not a nervous nod, not a swept-away laugh, but a promise given voice. I’m sure. I want to be here. I want to be with you. I’m sure. 

If she’s got nothing else, she’s got this. It’s more than she could have dreamed, days ago, her hand warm with the memory of Jamie’s fingers wrapped around it. 

Jamie is kissing her again, no hesitation at all, and Dani allows herself--inch by inch, breath by breath--to expand beneath the soft slide of those kisses. Her hands tease up from collar to throat, her fingers tracing the staggering speed of Jamie’s pulse. Her thumb finds the arc of Jamie’s jaw, blunt nail scratching a gentle path until Jamie’s lips part over her own in a sigh. Her tongue brushes Jamie’s once, twice, a hand reaching up to knot in Jamie’s curls, and there is no pause for reflection, no chance offered to whatever might be waiting in the dark to intrude. 

She’s sure, and she’s wonderfully afraid, and she’s never in her life been both at the same time. Tomorrow, she suspects, there will be other feelings crowding in--guilt, maybe, that she’s forgotten him at last. Or a glee too intoxicating to escape. Or maybe there will be Jamie across the breakfast table, head down, eyes darting, too embarrassed to allow Dani back in behind her walls. 

Maybe.

Tomorrow, Dani thinks. I can think of that all tomorrow. Tonight is its own triumph. Tonight is its own small victory. Tomorrow, she can stare into a mirror and tell Eddie once and for all she’s done--moved on at last, whether she wanted to or not, has found someone who makes her feel like she can brave every ghost the world could ever be haunted by. Tomorrow, she can deal with the pain of letting go, of the unsteadiness daylight might bring to Jamie’s smile, of whatever conversation will piece together the people they were this morning with the people waiting on the other side of sunrise. 

Tonight, she is sure. Of one knee jammed against the back of the sofa, Jamie’s weight rocking between her spread legs. Of Jamie’s kiss sliding warm and sweet from her lips to her neck, Jamie murmuring things so soft and gentle, it sends an ache through Dani’s chest. Of Jamie’s hands growing bolder, Jamie matching every moment of exploration with questioning eyes: Is this all right? Are you all right? You sure?

Tonight, making urgent sounds into Jamie’s kiss, letting herself tip over from a woman burdened to a woman wanting, she is sure. As sure as she’s ever been. She is sure, and she is the right kind of afraid, and she understands Jamie will only go as far as the road Dani is paving allows. She understands Jamie will not hold it against her, if she presses a hand to her chest and turns her head away. Jamie will lean back, accept more of her story, accept whatever it is Dani is offering. 

It won't matter. One way or the other, it’ll be closer than Dani’s ever been to freedom. 

Tomorrow, she can unpack what it means. What everything aligning in this exact way has brought her. Tomorrow, she can decide where she stands, and find out how far Jamie wants to walk with hand outstretched. 

Tonight, she is kissing Jamie, and she is wrapping her arms around Jamie’s neck, and she is memorizing the comfortable weight of Jamie’s smile against her skin. Tonight, everything has lined up just right.

She does not look away. 

[taetaespeaches]

“Do you mind if we dim the lights down, baby?”

namjoon x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; crack word count: 4.9K

a/n: well, lovelies, this is just a lot lol. Daisy is meeting the boys and it includes literally everyone but Kid (she and Yoongi are together but she hasn’t met the guys yet) and Holly (she isn’t in the picture yet). This is complete with a Jin vs. Peaches battle, ‘Expensive Girl’, a small moment between Daisy and Guk, and a mintcho debate. So yeah, I hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading! :)) 

STANDING in front of the dorm’s front door, Namjoon paused with his hand on the knob, looking over his shoulder at you. “Take it easy on me in here,” he told you with a whiny tone, you immediately cooing at how cute he was.

“Aw, babe,” you giggled, placing a hand to his cheek, soothing your thumb over his soft skin. “When have I ever taken it easy on you?” You teased, the man dropping his head toward the floor as he let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he confessed, glancing up at you only to meet your fond smile.

Biting your lip for a moment, you gave the man a single nod. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise,” you assured him, Namjoon looking at you skeptically.

“I’ve never seen you on your best behavior,” he joked, you laughing as you leaned toward him, pressing a smiley kiss against his lips. “That still makes me nervous.”

“You’re not allowed to be nervous,” you mumbled against his lips before kissing him softly once more. “I’m meeting your friends, you’re supposed to be calm so I can try to calm down.” The man’s eyes widened slightly as he took in your words.

“Are you actually nervous?” He asked, removing his hand from the door knob and turning to face you straight on.

“Well, yeah,” you smiled bashfully. “They’re important to you.”

Namjoon gently cradled the sides of your face between his hands, resting his forehead against yours sweetly. “They’ll love you,” he told you with a sense of surety that only Namjoon could express. Whenever he stepped into this protective-type of role you easily understood why he was the group’s leader. He was amazing. “You’ll fit right in.”

“If you say so,” you smiled, Namjoon chuckling lightly as he kissed you softly.

“Just trust me,” he told you before dropping his hands and reaching for the door knob once again. Trust him. You did trust him, so why wasn’t it that easy for you?

Pushing the door open, you were greeted with the sounds of chattering, a few girls laughing loudly as a man joined them with a boyish cackle that made your heart clench at how adorable the sound was. The first people you spotted were a handsome man and a gorgeous woman standing together, the man’s arms draped over the woman’s shoulders in a back hug as they both looked toward the kitchen with amused smiles.

At the sound of the door closing, the woman turned her head to spot you and Namjoon, immediately causing her to nudge the man holding her. His eyes widened before turning to look in the direction of her gaze, his cheerful smile widening even more, the brightness of the feature rivaling the sun itself.

“RM,” the man yelled out, your heart warming at the simple affection the men seemed to share.

“Hey,” your… friend replied, dragging out the word as he led you further into the dorm. Stopping next to the couple, so you assumed as they seemed quite comfortable in their love, you and Namjoon looked in toward the kitchen to see three more of Namjoon’s members and two girls, one of the girls pulling out a noodle from the pot on the stove as a tall, broad man looked at her with wide eyes.

“No, hear me out,” the girl held up a hand to the man staring at her in offense, “Tae and I read that you can tell when the noodles are fully cooked by throwing it at the wall,” she explained, nodding toward the striking man next to her, your lips curving upward at the scene.

“Don’t you dare throw that noodle,” the broad man warned her, the other girl tossing her head back in laughter at watching the two interact.

“Seokjin, you gotta trust me,” the girl told him, as he shook his head in disagreement. “If it sticks, it’s ready.”

“If you throw that noodle-”

The man, Seokjin, was cut off by the girl chucking the noodle against the kitchen cabinet, the noodle hitting it with a small thud before falling to the tiled floor.

“All you’re doing is making a mess,” the man shouted, scolding the girl, though a small smile was making its way to his face as the other two men in the kitchen crumbled over in laughter. The other girl reached for his bicep, tugging on him as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Another couple.

Waving Seokjin off, the rebellious girl went to retrieve the noodle from the floor. “We’ll try it again in a few minutes,” she told Seokjin, the man unable to hold back the laugh as he gave the girl a disbelieving look. The other two boys in the kitchen laughed further, the boyish cackle you found to be so cute coming from an attractive man with doe-eyes. When the girl turned toward the trash can, she spotted you and Namjoon and immediately froze, an endearing shyness overtaking her as her eyes widened, her posture straightening.

“Hey guys,” she said, her tone much quieter and more polite than before. She was cute. And then Namjoon snorted in laughter at her change in demeanor.

“What, suddenly you’re shy?” He asked her, the girl directing her gaze toward the striking man, Tae, her bashful expression meeting his fond one. They must be dating.

“How long have you two been here?” Tae asked you and Namjoon with a wide boxy smile. He seemed friendly and social.

Scanning the room, you noticed two members were missing. Jimin and one yet to be identified.

“Just long enough to see your best friend get a rise out of Jin-hyung,” Namjoon told the man, the now shy girl smiling a bit. Best friend? Questionable. But of course, yours and Namjoon’s friendship was too, so who were you to judge? “Uh,” he looked to you, a nervous energy overtaking him as he gave you a dimply grin. “Everyone, this is my friend,” he emphasized the word before telling your name to the group, almost as if he was warning them to not step over a line that would make the meeting uncomfortable. And though you were the primary decision maker in using the term ‘friend’, the term suddenly seemed so inadequate.  

He went through introductions with his present members and their girlfriends, and well, friend in Taehyung’s case. Hoseok was the man with sunshine for a smile, his girlfriend of a little over a year being the gorgeous woman he held in a back hug.

Seokjin and his girlfriend, who had an elegance about her, had been dating for not quite a year but were close friends before getting together. A route you believed Taehyung and his pretty friend would end up taking.

Jungkook was the doe-eyed boy, adorable and handsome all at once. He seemed the most excited to meet you and he had an effect on you that warmed your heart and made you very fond of the young man. The youngest of the group, you could see immediately why the rest of the members were so whipped for him, as Namjoon had admitted to you in days previous.

Suddenly, the front door opened, allowing two loud laughs to resonate through the room, you immediately recognizing the pretty man as Jimin, the young woman being the same one who accompanied Jimin when they walked in on you and Namjoon in his studio.

Catching you in his eyeline, Jimin looked away from his girlfriend, eyes widening before quickly turning to crescents as he flashed you a stunning smile. “Ah, we meet again,” he greeted you, you smiling with a chuckle as Namjoon let out a sigh. Cute. Jimin’s girlfriend held back a laugh as she lightly slapped the man’s chest, Jimin grabbing her hand quickly before leading her further into the dorm.

As he walked past you, he gave you a polite head nod, though that teasing grin stayed plastered to his face. He seemed fun. Cheeky. But definitely fun. He radiated a certain warmth, and so did his girlfriend for that matter.

“Finally,” Taehyung’s friend called out to them, Jimin’s girlfriend rolling her eyes at the girl before walking directly to her and pinching her cheeks affectionately, Tae’s friend pushing her away with a feigned look of disgust. Namjoon did tell you those four were all very close.

“Wait, you’ve already met?” Hoseok asked Jimin and you, your eyes widening as Jimin giggled.

“Not really, there was just a run in,” he dismissed, though you didn’t miss the knowing smiles that befell the three youngest men’s faces, as well as the two girls. They all knew. That little shit. “Hey, Jungkookie,” Jimin nodded to him with that same grin. “Didn’t you want to show me a song?”

“Ah,” Jungkook said in response to the reminder, a nervous but playful giggle leaving his mouth as he snuck a glance at you and Namjoon before pulling his phone out.

“Is Yoongi just in his room?” Namjoon asked the group, Jin nodding.

“He was on the phone,” Jin told everyone with wide knowing eyes.

“Is he seeing someone?” Taehyung asked, Jin shrugging but Tae’s friend looked suspiciously uninterested, as if she already knew some secret the missing man was keeping. That’s when you noticed the soft smile on Hoseok and his girlfriend’s faces, as if they knew as well. It was interesting to see the different dynamics between the group, and just who knew what about each other.

Your observations and thoughts were cut off by a slow jam type of instrumentation that started playing from Jungkook’s phone. All eyes snapped to him to see his adorably boyish grin planted on his face, the other two youngest members already giggling as the two older members slowly realized what was going on. Namjoon however, immediately shot Jungkook a wide-eyed look of shock, letting out a surprise, “what?” What is happening?

Hoseok suddenly giggled loudly, his laugh matching his smile in their cheerfulness, his girlfriend looking over her shoulder to shoot the man a confused expression. You watched as Hoseok whispered something in her ear, a small snort leaving the woman just as a voice counted out “one, two, three” in the song. You knew that voice.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon warned, Seokjin suddenly yelling in surprise and excitement, grabbing his girlfriend to share his realization. As Namjoon took a step toward the youngest member, you grabbed for his forearm, holding him in place as you listened carefully to the song, a small smile on your lips.

“I haven’t heard this one,” you spoke quickly as you stared at Jungkook, listening to the lyrics. The song was what you later learned to be called, ‘Expensive Girl’. 

“There’s a reason for that,” Seokjin laughed, the rest of the guys cackling with him as Jimin tried to shush them so you could hear the tune properly.

At that moment, a man walked into the kitchen, his face pointed down to his phone as he typed something, a slow realization making its way to his face as he looked up with his eyebrows pulled together in question. When his eyes met yours, a small single breathy chuckle left his lips just before they curved into a gummy grin. So that must be Yoongi.

Shaking his head in disbelief, the man gave you a single nod, the smile staying in place. You cocked your own head curiously as you continued to take in the lyrics.

“Guys,” Namjoon warned again, you shushing him with a wave of your hand making Seokjin and his girlfriend laugh at you both.

“Put your expensive title of ‘hard to get’ down for today,” Namjoon sang, the lyrics somehow ringing true for your current situation. However, when the song continued with, “Take it off now girl, just take it off,” your smile curved up even more. Oh. So it’s that kind of song.

An unintentional snort left you as he sang, “I’m a master baby, with your bra”, the maknae line holding back giggles, shushing their older friends so you could hear the next lyric “I can help you slide those panties of”. And that was the lyric that tipped you all over the edge, you gasping in laughter, triggering everyone else to roar in hilarity. If there were any more questionable lyrics in the song, you definitely couldn’t hear them through the ruckus the group was making over the obviously old but still hilarious song.  

Namjoon hung his head as a small laugh shook his frame, his dimples visible as he was probably wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He was adorable and perfect and if you weren’t in a room full of his friends you would kiss him. Leaning into him, you rested your forehead against his shoulder as you continued to giggle at his expense. Squeezing his forearm, he sighed deeply and dramatically as he turned to look at you to meet your smiling and adoring face. The indentations in his cheeks were deep and beautiful, the apples of his cheek tinted with a light red blush.

Running your hand up and down his forearm comfortingly, he shook his head with a smile. Still horribly embarrassed, at least he was assured that it would take more than some cringey lyrics sung in a low play-boy voice to make you change your mind about being there with him that night.

“You guys are ruthless,” Yoongi spoke from the edge of the kitchen through his grin as he pushed the phone into the front pocket of his hoodie. No wonder he was keeping whoever he was seeing a secret for as long as he could.

“Wah!” Seokjin suddenly yelled, “Stop it you pest,” he directed toward Taehyung’s friend, a noodle stuck to the cabinet door, a giggling leaving her lips as yours curved upward at the scene.

“What?” She asked innocently. “It’s ready.”

As Seokjin prepared to scold the girl further, Jungkook grabbed for a noodle, flinging it against the cabinet as well, a mischievous chuckle sounding from him. “Look, it is ready.”

“Do you see what your influence does to him?” Seokjin asked the girl just as the two dorks struck a pose, pushing their backs together as they crossed their arms over their chests, marking their stance as a duo of troublemakers.

Turning toward Namjoon, your heart raced at the fond expression he wore when looking at his members.

Seokjin was a bit of a god in the kitchen. And therefore, how could you not thank him for the delicious meal by helping clean up. Jungkook was on dishes duty, and though he insisted you go relax, you were more persistent.  

“You really don’t have to help with this,” Jungkook shyly told you for the fourth time since you started rinsing the dishes he cleaned.

“I want to though,” you told him, again, giving him a small smile, the man flashing one back, his eyes crinkling in the corners. The rest of the gang were scattered around the living room talking and joking, which seemed to be a never-ending thing for them.

Turning to glance at the group, you caught Namjoon staring, a bashful look overtaking his features as he averted his gaze. However, he snuck another look at you to find you still watching him. Seeing him among his closest friends, looking happy and carefree, you couldn’t help the upward curve of your lips, Namjoon showing off his dimples in return.

“I know you’re just friends or whatever but, he likes you,” Jungkook suddenly brazenly told you, your head snapping toward him. “A lot.”

“What?” You responded dumbly, Jungkook giggling.

“It’s true,” he shrugged, handing you a dish to rinse. “He’s happy with you.”

As you ran the frying pan under the faucet, you stared at the way the water streamed down the metal. “Is he not usually happy?” You asked the man curiously.

“No, he is,” Jungkook told you, pausing as he thought about his words. “It’s just, we’ve all had to make sacrifices for this group, but, he’s our leader,” Jungkook nodded to himself, handing you another dish. “A lot of responsibility falls on his shoulders.”

Humming in thought, you rinsed the soap from the pot. “Sometimes I wonder if he ever stops working,” you told Jungkook. “Or just stops worrying in general.”

“He’s been noticeably less stressed lately,” Jungkook revealed to you, your eyes leaving the sink to stare at the side of his face. “I think it’s related to you.” The man was shy when speaking to you, but it was almost as if he felt the information was important enough to share with you that his own introversion didn’t matter in that moment. The dude was observant, that was for sure.

“Do you guys want some ice cream?” A voice suddenly asked from behind you, you both turning around to see a smiley Hoseok reaching inside the freezer.

“Ice cream,” Jungkook repeatedly excitedly from beside you, you nodding with a small grin.

“We got chocolate, vanilla, and mint chocolate chip,” Hoseok told you both.

“Mintcho,” Jungkook said in a silly tone, dragging the word out as Hoseok’s eyes landed on you.

“Oh, mintcho for me too, obviously,” you said, a gasp sounding from across the kitchen, you whipping around to spot a jaw-dropped Namjoon. “What?”

“Uh oh,” Hoseok said comically as he pulled the tubs of ice cream from the freezer, that sunshine smile planted to his features.

“I know I didn’t just hear you say you want mint chocolate chip ice cream,” he said dramatically, you giggling as you shot him a questioning look.

“Uh, I definitely did. I love mint chocolate,” you informed him, the man instantly pulling a look of disgust, you laughing at the expression. “Oh my god, what is your problem?” You asked him through your smile, Jungkook giggling beside you.

“It’s mint and chocolate,” he said as if his disgust was completely validated by that single sentence. Hoseok chuckled from beside the refrigerator and Namjoon shook his head. “It tastes like toothpaste.”

“Are you serious right now?” You asked him, crossing your arms across your chest to express your firm stance on the mintcho debate, Namjoon mimicking your posture. “It tastes like mint and chocolate, which is a common combination,” you explained to him. “And it’s amazing.”

Pulling another expression of cringe, Namjoon shot a look between the other two men in the kitchen. “Did you put her up to this?”

Jungkook giggled beside you, Hoseok putting his arms up in feigned surrender. “Maybe she just has taste, Hyung,” Jungkook suggested, you nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, taste,” you repeated, Namjoon’s eyes going wide in offense. “Oh my god, why are you acting like I assaulted you?” You asked through a giggle. He’s cute.

“You basically did,” he told you dramatically, you throwing your head back in laughter. “You can’t just throw this kind of information at a man, I need time to process,” he continued, you rolling your eyes as you sighed through a laugh.

“Ok, well, it’s three against one right now so you lose,” you told him, Namjoon quickly turning to the group still in the living room.

“Jin-hyung,” Namjoon called for his friend, the older man looking to the direction of the kitchen with wide eyes. “Opinions on mint chocolate?”

“Ah, toothpaste,” the man said dramatically as he stood.

“Oh god,” Tae’s friend suddenly sighed as if this exact conversation had happened before, Taehyung smiling fondly at her reaction.

Namjoon turned back to you with a small shrug. “See?”

“It’s still three against two,” you pointed out, resting your forearm on Jungkook’s shoulder to show your mintcho alliance as Hoseok pulled a ‘cool’ pose. At that moment, Jin stepped into the kitchen to defend his anti-mintcho stance.

“Wah, my love,” he called out, his girlfriend instantly leaning her head against Jimin’s girlfriend’s shoulder as if she couldn’t bear to be pulled into another mint chocolate debate.

“Do I have to?” She asked in a whiny tone, you chuckling at her cute reaction.

“Yes,” Jin yelled dramatically. “Because you love me,” he added, the girl holding back a smile as she made her way to the man.

“Remind me why again,” she teased as she took her spot next to Jin.

“Three against three,” Namjoon told you with a smirk.

“Ah,” Jungkook suddenly exclaimed beside you, startling you a bit as you chuckled lightly. Looking at him, you saw him pointing across the room to Tae’s friend, the girl pointing back to him. “Four against three,” Jungkook said smugly as the girl bowed from across the room, waving as she took in the applause from the man next to you.

“Ok, but Tae and Jimin don’t like it,” Jin informed you all, but when you looked at the two friends across the room, they averted their gazes.

“Kim Taehyung,” his friend called out to him as a warning. “You have literally eaten my entire mint chocolate cone before.”

“I neither like it nor dislike it,” Taehyung said quickly, the girl giggling at him, appearing more smitten than ever. How are they not dating?

Jimin looked at his girlfriend before lightly pushing her in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m sending a fighter in my place,” he said with a stunning smile. “I’m in the middle.”

“Deary?” Jin questioned the pretty girl expectantly. “Choose wisely.”

With a huff, she took a spot next to Jin’s girlfriend. “As much as I hate to agree with Jin, I hate mint chocolate more.” You watched as Jin’s face somehow expressed both pride and offense.

“Suga-hyung?” Jungkook asked, Namjoon quickly shaking his head.

“Yoongi doesn’t count, he’s the least picky person ever,” he said dismissively, the older man looking at the group with a wide-eyed look that made him appear innocent and adorable.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he defended, his phone in his hands as he stalled texting the person on the other end.

“That leaves only one person,” Jin said, all eyes pointing toward Hoseok’s gorgeous girlfriend as she smiled shyly at all of you.

“Petal,” Hoseok grinned at the girl, the term of endearment nearly making you pout. How cute.

“Mint chocolate?” She asked as her grin turned into a smirk. Slowly, she approached the divided groups in the kitchen, looking between them both. You found the girl fascinating as you watched her keep all eleven of you on edge, awaiting her response. She was quiet, but you had a sense that she had a lot of personality. And you could coo at the way Hoseok stared at her with the brightest smile you’d seen from him yet.

“Mint chocolate is so,” she paused to think, slowly turning to look at Hoseok. “What’s the word, Sunshine?” Fitting pet name.

“Refreshing,” he grinned widely.

“Ah, yes. That’s the one,” she giggled as the anti-mintcho group all groaned. “Refreshing.”

You weren’t even sure if the girl actually liked mint chocolate chip ice cream or if she was standing by Hoseok, but either way, you couldn’t help but shoot a smug look toward the man of your affection.

“That’s five against four, Mr. I’m a master, baby, with your bra,” you teased him, the man laughing in surprise just before dropping his head in embarrassment, the whole group laughing loudly at his expense once again.

You watched as the group teased him, laughing together, all of them completely happy and comfortable in one another’s presence. Spotting Yoongi chuckling down at his phone as he typed away, you once again acknowledged why he was holding out on introducing the person on the other end of the phone to this wild bunch of gems.

But you adored them already. And you fit in with them. Making eye contact with Namjoon, meeting his look of adoration, your heart suddenly dropped into your gut. What the fuck are you doing to him?

Averting your eyes from the man, you found Jungkook watching you carefully, and you were immediately reminded of your earlier conversation. And it was at that moment that it fully hit you that what you were doing with Namjoon carried real consequences. You were dragging Namjoon’s heart through the dirt to protect your own. And now his friends were involved.

Leaving the dorm, a bittersweet feeling sat in your chest as you walked together through the building. Bitter because of your re-realization of what you were doing to the man smiling beside you as you left the building together. Sweet because the man smiling next to you was Namjoon. And his friends were great. And he was stunning and pure.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” He asked you, his hand reaching for yours as he easily intertwined his fingers with yours. You could scream at your fingers for being so reactive to his as they relished in the touch.

“I-” you started, though all further words stalled on the tip of your tongue. Did you want to go home with Namjoon? Of course. But you can’t, you reminded yourself. You can’t keep doing this to him.

Sensing your apprehension, Namjoon tried to recover the interaction nervously. “I mean, not for sex,” he said quickly. “Unless you want to,” he stammered over his words. “Just- we don’t have to have sex, we could just hang out and cuddle.”

Looking at him, you wanted to cry. He appeared so nervous and innocent. Cuddle? That’s even worse. It wasn’t worse because the idea of cuddling with Namjoon was a bad one. No, far from it. It was worse because the idea of cuddling with Namjoon sounded way too appealing for your comfort.

But how could you ever resist him? You’d learned from the very first morning with him that trying to listen to your logic over your growingly affectionate heart was near impossible when it came to Namjoon.

The conversation with Jungkook replayed in your mind as Namjoon looked at you with hope-filled eyes.

“It’s up to you,” he told you genuinely and kindly. Of course he was leaving it up to you with no pressure attached. Because when was Namjoon ever anything but a perfect gentleman?

You made him happy. Jungkook said it plainly but it’s not as though you didn’t already know that. It was obvious in the way he looked at you with all that adoration. So what did that mean for you? He made you happy too. But didn’t that mean there was a lot to lose?

Peering into his eyes, that’s when it fully hit you. It was much too late to run away from that last concern.

Shooting him a soft smile, you squeezed his hand in yours. “I know it’s up to me,” you started, pausing walking so you could take your time simply looking at him. “I drove us here,” you teased. And god, you watched so fucking fondly as he squeezed his eyes shut in laughter. “At first glance, you’re the whole package,” you continued teasing, a slight blush gracing his dimpled cheeks. “And then I learn you don’t have a license.”

“You don’t have it in you to take it easy on me, do you?” He complained cutely, you giggling as you leaned into his side.

“No, I don’t,” you joked, stepping toward him to press your lips to his. He was the one to deepen the kiss, his arm wrapping around your waist as his opposite hand continued to hold yours.

“You taste like mint chocolate,” he whispered against your lips, you kissing him again sweetly.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled against his mouth, the man giving you a few more sweet pecks in a quick succession.

Reluctantly, the man pulled away from you, your hand in his as he began leading you out of the building. Your eyes raked up and down his frame, appreciating how sturdy he appeared, how strong he was. Following closely behind him, perhaps you realized you would follow him anywhere.

“Oh,” you suddenly exclaimed, Namjoon looking back at you in surprise. “As enticing as the cuddling offer is, can we please have sex?”

Chuckling at you, he pulled you into his chest, his lips finding your temple, leaving a sweet kiss to the spot. “How could I ever say no to that?”

“Thank fuck,” you sighed in feigned relief, Namjoon’s body shaking slightly in laughter. “One more question,” you started, Namjoon humming expectantly. “Do you mind if we dim the lights down, baby?” You teased him, the man sighing as he placed a hand at the back of your head, messing your hair up slightly to tease you back. “It’s just, I heard you can help me slide these panties off,” you continued, groaning as he dropped your hand to wrap his arms around your head to muffle your voice against his chest.

“Be kind,” he chuckled, you cackling against his frame.

Happy. You felt truly happy, buzzing off meeting his friends who you already adored, and feeling at home in his arms as you both laughed together. Namjoon was the kind of person who could come into your life and help you grow into yourself, making you feel more at home in your own skin than ever before. But he was also the type of person that would be hard to move on from if he walked out of your life.

That’s the kind of heartbreak you’d never cease to feel for as long as you lived. Every thought of the man would cause your chest to ache. You’d feel the absence of him in every lifetime to come.

There’s a lot to lose when it comes to Namjoon. He’s a lot to lose.

[fallingappleshurt]

You do it for them so you know they can win

(This is very bad I wrote it while sleep deprived I’m so sorry okay byeeeeee! I am not the creator of this AU but I feel nervous about tagging them again)

His eyes burned as he glared intently at the screen, hands shaking as he slashed at the other player. He had been training for weeks, if he didn’t have carpal tunnel before he was definitely gonna get it now. He was so focused on his match that he didn’t hear a knock on the door, a moment later there was another unheard knock, then the door cracked open.

“Hey, Tech,” Wilbur said, poking his head through the door. No answer.

“Techno.”

Nothing

“Techno!”

Still nothing.

“Techno!” Wilbur shot forwards and slapped Techno on the back of the head., he yelped, jumping in his seat.

Techno shook his headphones off around his neck, looking annoyed, “What Wilbur? I’m kind of busy.”

“That’s the issue,” Wilbur huffed, “You’re always ‘kind of busy’, are you seeing in cubes yet?”

Techno scoffed, rolling his eyes, “No, I’m just training-”

“Yeah that’s all you’ve been doing, for the past three weeks.” Wilbur cut in, “You haven’t done anything else, you barely even eat with us! This stupid duel can’t mean that much! It’s just a Minecraft game! I know you are used to sacrificing your mental and physical health over mindless shit but come on! There has to be a limit!”

Techno looked to the side, avoiding Wilbur’s scowl. He hadn’t told them that 100,000 dollars rested on this duel, he wouldn’t be able to bear the looks of sadness if he lost…

No, he wasn’t going to think like that, he had to win, for his family.

“Look Wil, I’m sorry that I haven’t been around much recently but, I-I need to do this-”

“No you don’t! There is more to life than stroking your pride!” Wilbur cut him off again. Techno narrowed his eyes.

“This isn’t about my pride, jackass.”

“Then what is this about?”

“I,” He paused, he wanted to tell someone else about the money, wanted to vent and say that he was nervous. He wanted Phil to not worry about the bills and work himself sick, for Wilbur to be able to work less hours at his job and spend time with his friends.

For Tommy to have a stable environment, more stable than the one Phil had worked so hard to create that was slowly chipping as the cost of rent and local grocery store prices went up.

He saw the guilt in his eyes as he nervously told Phil about the fees for the sports team he joined, it made his chest ache.

“I can’t tell you, I’m sorry I just can’t,” Techno finally responded, shaking his head, turning back to his computer.

Wilbur gave him a disheartened look, “Fine. If you want to ruin yourself over a stupid duel then go ahead.” He slammed the door.

It was the day of duel and Techno was silently losing his mind. The rich kid who set it all up, nicknamed ‘Beast’ had invited him and Dream over to his house to use his equipment, which was undoubtedly better than theirs. He put on his favorite hoodie for good luck.

He was on his way out the door when Phil clapped him on the shoulder, “You got this!” Tommy stuck his tongue out and gave him a thumbs up, “You got this Blade! Go get that green haired bastard!”

Techno’s lips quirked up into a smile, “Thanks guys.”

“He won’t stand a chance, you have been practicing like a madman,” Techno turned to see Wilbur sitting on the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone, he looked up briefly, “Knock him dead,”

Techno nodded, “I'll try!”

He was a nervous wreck all the way there, going back to his old finger biting habit as he walked. He walked into a neighborhood that looked like it came from a movie, huge houses with nicely manicured lawns. He got there, entered a house that was so clean it made him nervous to touch anything, greeted Dream and Beast then it was time.

He was gonna puke.

It was the last fight, they were tied 5 to 5, Techno’s hands were shaking. He wanted to help his brothers, to Dream this was just a casual duel, all for fun, and it was, but this much money could drastically change the Pandel’s lives.

He moved fast, trading off hits with his axe and blocking with his shield, one final swing and it was over.

He won.

He won.

He could barely even process it as he got up to meet Dream and Beast.

“Congratulations to Techno, the best minecraft player!” Beast said, clapping his hands, “You both fought well, it was very close.”

Techno nodded, his chest felt tight, but in the good way.

“You did good man,” Dream stuck out his hand, Techno shook it, “So did you.”

Beast handed Techno a partially sealed envelope, Techno shifted through it’s contents to pull out a check, for 100,000 dollars.

He was going to pass out.

He talked with Beast and Dream a bit more, thanking Beast, joking with Dream, then started home.

The sky was warm, seeping pink and orange onto the horizon, a cool breath drifted through the air as he walked and could finally breathe.

He did.

He actually did it.

Techno waited until he got out of Beast’s neighborhood then he cheered loudly, spinning in a circle on his heels.

“Oh my God! Yes! I can’t believe it! Oh my God!” He gasped to himself, hands shaking, he was laughing, shoving his hands in his hair.

He could finally tell someone, he could tell his brothers.

That though alone powered him, he jogged all the way home, hand wrapped tightly around the envelope in his pocket.

Racing up the stairs, tripping over his own feet, he shoved open the door to their apartment, stumbling in loudly, causing Phil in the kitchen to jump and Tommy to fall off the couch.

“I did it! I won!” He panted, taking deep breaths.

“That’s great!” Phil said, stepping out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel.

“I knew you could do it Blade!” Tommy said, scrambling to stand up. Wilbur’s head peered out from the hall, “You did it? Nice job, now can you stop trying to kill youself over a game?”

Techno laughed before, jamming his hand in his pocket, grabbing the envelope, and thrusting it into Phil’s hands.

“What’s this?” He asked, turning it over in his hands.

“Just-just read it,” Techno could barely get the words, “It’s for you,”

Phil opened the envelope and pulled out the check, he balked as he scanned over the amount, eyes widening.

He froze for a solid minute then finally.

“Is- is this real?” His voice was hoarse, eyes flickering between Techno and the check.

Techno nodded nervously, swallowing. “Yeah, it’s real.”

“What is it?” Tommy asked, him and Wilbur peering over Phil’s shoulder to see, both freezing in place when they got the amount.

“How- when- where did you get this?” Wilbur asked, eyes locking on Techno.

“It was the prize from the duel,” He spoke softly, looking between them, Wilbur was confused, Phil was in shock, and Tommy hadn't moved, still staring at the check.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were competing for money?” Phil asked.

“I- I didn’t want to disappoint you guys if I, if I lost,” He chuckled nervously, looking at the floor, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

In an instant arms wrapped around his ribs and he was hosted up, air being squeezed out of his lungs as Tommy swung him around yelling incomprehensibly. He laughed as Phil crashed into the other side of him, crushing him. Wilbur was yelling too, messing up his hair.

“Guys- I can’t breath,” He gasped out, laughing.

It took a lot of convincing but Tommy finally let go of him, his shrieking laughter still echoing throughout the apartment.

They ordered out for the first time in a long time and sat on the couch to watch movies, Wilbur and Tommy pushed each other, almost slipping their food, as they tried to get more space. Techno fell asleep within the first 30 minutes of the movie, completely exhausted.

He blinked groggily, trying to gain his bearings, the apartment was dark with only a small light filtering from the kitchen. The oven light flashing the time, 2:57. Techno shifted to stand up, the blanket placed over top of him slipping back onto the couch, he knew Tommy was already asleep and he didn’t wanna risk waking him up.

Pulling himself into a standing position, he stretched, then made his way to the kitchen to get some water. He paused when he saw Phil, sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open, typing furiously.

“Phil? What are you doing up?”

Phil jumped, squinting at Techno before shaking his head, “Just working on a few things,” He stood up suddenly, walked over to Techno and slung his arms around him in a hug, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head.

Startled, Techno paused for a moment before slowly hugging him back and they stayed like that. Phil sighed, whispering;

“Thank you. You did good kid, you did good.”

[nerdyfangirl67]

Through the Night - Criminal Minds Imagine

Pairing: Hotch x reader

Warning: language, intense torture, inflicted pain, violence, anxiety, 

Word count: 2,300

Imagine being taken by an unsub and Hotch finding you and not wanting to leave your side.

You weren’t really sure if you were conscious or not. The lack of sight and sound made you believe not, but the intense pain coursing through your body told you otherwise. Your thoughts were fuzzy, making it hard to think. You tried several times to get up but something was holding you down. And you could easily feel the gag in your mouth, preventing you from making any sound.

Nothing. Nothing happened for a long time. The inability to use most of your senses was preventing you from figuring out anything about where you were. After experiencing intense feelings of anger, fear, and frustration, all you felt now was tired.

You may have fallen asleep because you were jerked out of your sensory deprivation by a sudden light. Pain erupted in your head and you blinked your eyes closed at the searing, white intensity.

A hand hit your face, hard. “Open your damn eyes.” The voice was deep and gravelly.

You forced your eyes open and you took in the man before you. It was definitely the unsub of the case you and the team were working. His brown eyes, unfocused and crazed, were studying you. His black hair was unkempt and he was sporting a beard, albeit one only a few days old. He smiled at you, a wild gleam in his eyes as he removed your gag.

“Tell me about your team.” He demanded forcibly. You remained silent, refusing to share anything about those you considered your family. He slapped you again, causing your head to spin and fog up your thoughts. You clenched your jaw tight and said nothing. You were going to suppress the pain for as long as possible, to keep from giving the unsub the satisfaction of hearing you scream.

“Okay, if that is how you want to play it. I sure have a few tools I have been wanting to try out.” He disappeared out of sight. You used that moment to try and remember what happened and if your team knew where you were. Try as you may, you couldn’t recall much of anything.

The unsub, whose name was John or James or something fairly similar, strolled easily back into the room, carrying a large toolbox with him. You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to watch as he pulled out the tool that would undoubtedly inflict a lot of pain on you.

“Last chance missy. You could save yourself a lot of pain.” He said sadistically.

You opened your mouth as if to speak, waiting for him to lean in before spitting in his face. His features were quickly marred as signs of intense anger overtook his face.

He grabbed a pair of needle-nose pliers, moving quickly towards your hand. You tightened your hand up in a fist but swiftly relaxed it as he slammed the pliers down on your hand. You closed your eyes and turned your head away. A horrific, burning pain exploded from your fingers. You didn’t have to see what he was doing to know he was violently removing your fingernails. It wasn’t long before you were screaming out in pain.

He didn’t stop there though. He replaced his pliers with a new tool, one you quickly learned was a hammer, and turned his attention to your other hand. He put the time in making sure that each of your fingers was broken before bringing the hammer down hard on the back of your hand.

You passed out from the pain shortly after that, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he would bring you back with a bucket of cold water thrown in your face and others he would leave you be. Each time he demanded the same thing, “Tell me about your team.” You never said a word, the only vocalization you made were the screams of agony and whimpers of pain.

You couldn’t guess how long you had been there, tied to a chair, but you knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Either the team would find you or you would die, simple as that.

You didn’t have much left in you to fight and the only thing keeping you from giving up was the fact that you never told Aaron how you felt about him. After years of loving him silently, you had been ready to tell him. And you didn’t want to go, not knowing if there had been a future for the two of you.

A commotion sounded upstairs, followed quickly by a gunshot. Fear took hold and you tried desperately to free yourself of the gag in your mouth, the one the unsub replaced every time he finished with you. You were unsuccessful in your attempts to remove it and knew that all you could do was wait.

Heavy black boots appeared on the steps, followed quickly by a pair of jean-clad legs, a muscular torso, and finally a face. You cried out, as best you could, in relief and exhaustion when you saw it was Morgan. He was followed by Reid and Rossi. Morgan continued to clear the room, a basement of some sort, as Reid and Rossi moved straight towards you. You relaxed just knowing it was them.

They quickly removed the gag and restraints; the entire time Reid spoke softly to you. Morgan, who had moved over to you, must have sensed your fatigue and pain because he gently said “Baby girl, I’m gonna pick you up” before slowly sweeping you into his arms. Pain exploded from many different places in your body and you were unable to suppress a cry.

You don’t remember much after that. A short moment in the ambulance of a familiar face leaning towards you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, a brief flash of being surrounded by doctors in a bright room, and then darkness.

The darkness was soothing, gentle, and quiet. You were comfortable staying there for a long time. It was only when a nagging sound and returning feelings in your body overtook the sweet darkness that you realized you were indeed alive. Several times you had been aware of your surroundings, of JJ talking rapidly on the phone, of Reid reading out loud, of Morgan chattering loudly, of Garcia telling you all about her day, but most importantly of Aaron talking, telling you about little, unimportant things and about how sorry he was.

Finally, after what felt like ages, you were able to pull yourself away from the darkness. It was quiet and the only thing you felt was someone holding your hand. You opened your eyes and was greeted with semi-darkness. You turned slightly to the right and noticed Aaron was holding your hand. He was leaning back in one of the hospital chairs, legs sprawled out in front of him and head resting in a very uncomfortable looking position.

“Aaron?” You croaked, unsure if he was asleep or not. Not a second after you had pathetically uttered his name, was he up and leaning towards you.

His face lit up with a smile, seeing you were awake. He grabbed a cup that had been sitting beside the bed and helped you hold the cup as you greedily drank the water.

“How’s your pain?” Aaron asked after you had settled back down into the pillows.

“I’ve definitely felt better, that’s for sure.” You whispered, already tired from the effort it had taken to get a drink.

Aaron immediately pressed the call button and a nurse ran in, checking your IV and administering some pain meds before flitting back out of the room. Soon you were pulled back into your drugged darkness.

Days passed in a similar fashion. Most of the time Aaron was at your side. There were a few times that Morgan or Rossi had been beside you when you had awakened. Eventually, you found out the extent of your injuries, but not from Aaron. He had refused to tell you anything about the unsub that had taken you or what they could piece together about what happened.

You learned that you had some brain swelling, bad enough that it required surgery. One of your hand was so badly broken that it needed reconstructive surgery once the swelling receded, you had a few broken ribs and there were even a few burns littering your body. Aside from these injuries, your body was also covered in bruises and welts.

You had trouble sleeping, which led to Aaron spending many a night in the uncomfortable hospital chair, gripping your hand and talking to you. There were even times when you just laid in the hospital bed, listening to Aaron talk.

It was a month before the hospital felt that you were well enough to leave, but they strongly suggested you stay with someone for another month at least. This bit of information threw you for a loop because you were alone in DC. Both your parents had passed years ago and the only living relative you knew of, an aunt in California, was in a retirement facility.

Each one of the team members jumped at the chance to stay with you. Penelope was thrilled at the idea of having a month-long sleepover, Reid wanted to “educate you” in the ways of Star Trek and classic literature, Rossi wanted to use you a guinea pig for his recipes, and Morgan wanted someone who would jam to his beats, and maybe even play a video game or two with him. Seeing how excited the team was to be there for you made your heart squeeze painfully at the thought of how close you had gotten to losing them.

You couldn’t say no to any of them and was ready to just suggest a rotating schedule when Aaron spoke up. “She is staying with me.” He said it with such finality that no one questioned him. You had looked at him questioningly but hadn’t argued.

It was less than an hour later that you found yourself staring at the front door to Aaron’s apartment.

“Are you sure you want me in your space? I mean, I’m sure Penelope would be fine with staying over.” You really doubted that Aaron would feel comfortable with you in his private space. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He replied, staring deep into your Y/E/C eyes. You felt a blush bloom on your face, and had glanced down at your feet in embarrassment.

A hand tilted your face up again. “Really Y/N. I want you here.” He spoke softly, a thumb gently moving back and forth along your jaw.

The door flew open, and Aaron jerked his hand away from your face. Jack stood in front of you both, beaming up at you.

“Hi Y/N. I’m so excited you are here. Want to come to see my legos?” His brimming excitement pulled a laugh from your chest. You walked with Jack to his room, letting him tell you all about his legos.

The rest of the day passed swiftly after that. Aaron had shown you to his guest room and had helped you put away some of your things. You hadn’t worried about sleep until you had gone to your bedroom for the evening.

Once you were alone, laying on your bed, you felt crushing anxiety grip your chest. You had left the lamp on alongside your bed but was freaked out enough to carry a blanket and pillow away from the bed, which was alongside the window, to the other side of the room. You couldn’t remember much of what happened, for that you were grateful, but being alone since leaving the hospital had become something you dreaded. You knew Aaron would help you if you asked but he had already been with you through so much, giving up much of his time to be with you. You tried to get comfortable and even fell into a fitful sleep. You were awoken a while later to hand on your shoulder, to which you screamed and kicked forward repeatedly.

Aaron’s soothing voice reached your ears. “Hey, hey. It’s just me, Aaron. You’re okay Y/N. You’re okay.” You took a deep breath, your wide eyes finding Aaron’s. A whimper escaped your lips and Aaron was pulling you into a hug. You let go, crying into his shoulder as he whispered into your ear.

After a while you managed to calm down, taking a deep breath and leaning back from Aaron’s chest. “I’m sorry.” You murmured, your gaze now on your lap. Aaron gently guided your face until you were looking at him again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered. “I came in here because you sounded upset like you were having a nightmare.” “Aaron, I…” You paused trying to find the words, looking deep into his warm brown eyes. “I want to thank you for everything you have done for me.” He started to speak but you placed a soft finger over his lips.

“I don’t remember much about what happened, but I do remember that the only thing that kept me going, when I felt like giving up, was knowing that I needed to come back to you. I needed to tell you… I needed to tell you that I love you.” You had somehow found the courage to tell him the secret you had been keeping for months, years even.

You watched as shock crossed his face, and then happiness take over. He pulled you close again, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I love you too Y/N. I love you too.”

You knew you had a long way to go before you ever felt normal again, but knowing that Aaron would be by your side through it all made you believe you could do it.

[tinyyoungblood]

blurry-eyed | peter parker

summary: you were once best friends, lovers and now strangers who are forced to do a chemistry project together. a lot of unspoken issues and heart-wrenching tears spilled on a friday night

pairing: peter parker x reader

trope: friends to lovers to nothing

warnings: language, ANGST but ends in fluff, i promise

song/based on: 21 by Gracie Abrams (acoustic version)

masterlist

* * *

You gripped the edge of the sink and methodically tucked pieces of hair behind your ear. Continuing to stare into the mirror, the white in your eyes was gone and the faintest shade of red stung in your lips from all the lip biting, forcing you to quickly avert your gaze to the ground. They were marble tiles, pristine, perfect, almost glistening. Slowly you walked to the door, hand placed on the handle and you straightened.

You took your time, didn’t hurry, but deep down you were worried that he would be annoyed, because you were gone so long. You were worried that he would ask what took so long and you would have to explain. But in fact, Peter was just putting away his phone and didn’t ask anything, and that wasn’t any better.

Silently, you crossed the room and knelt next to him on the soft carpet. Your right hand hit something and before you could register what it was, Peter pulled back his hand and placed it on his lap. You muttered a low “sorry” and retracted your gaze to the book in front of you. Wrenching it open, you flipped to the needed page, saw a polaroid picture tucked in between, and blinked. A pool of cold sweat formed on your forehead. He was staring at you as you retrieved it with careful fingers.

The soft and comforting rug beneath you suddenly seemed too warm, burning through your jeans. I have to get up, you thought, and quickly, you put your hand down on the ground, pushing yourself up, and gripping onto the picture like it was a cursed image. You placed it on the drawer next to the other many picture frames that were faced down, not daring to peek at it again with Peter staring at you. When you sat back on the carpet, his eyes lingered on the frames.

The room felt smaller with each passing second that you were cramped in it with him, still so distant, and slipping right through your trembling fingers. The silence added to the tear-jerking tension.

It had been 20 minutes now, and all you had done was sit with your legs to your chest, gripping them tightly. Familiar curls were facing you, almost slapping you with shame, as his head was bowed, desperately trying to feign interest in his chemistry book. You knew he could hear your heartbeat, so there was no point in taking long deep breaths. But every time you moved to grab a marker or another sheet of paper and had to reach over, closer in proximity to him, you were gentle and careful, almost invisible, to not scare him away. Peter was so close but, at the same time, so far away. It was like the lights were on, but it was black and white, and you knew he couldn’t stay forever.

He was nibbling on his bottom lip, tapping his pencil repeatedly against his thigh, and with one sharp inhale, he tore his gaze upward to meet yours. His eyes softened immediately at the sight of you, sitting so far away—scared of him when you really weren’t. A glistening glaze washed over his eyes and he immediately glanced up to the ceiling, eyes closed.

Your own eyes swam with regret just for having accidentally met his gaze. You closed them and waited for the moment to pass. Then you let the marker in your hand fall in between the pages and closed the book.

“I haven’t heard from May in a while.”

You peaked at him through your lashes. That wasn’t your voice speaking, it was too weak, too fragile, and you knew something shattered in him by the way his brows drew together. He didn’t respond, letting the crack in your voice linger in the room and vanish into thin air. You had nothing left to lose.

“Thought you said your aunt always loved me,” you mumbled weakly, a sad smile gracing your lips as you shook your head.

You saw the look in Peter’s eyes and bit your tongue.

He picked up your book and pulled out the marker, holding it carefully in his hand, before fiddling with it. “MJ said she saw you out on 72nd when it was already past twelve.” With the cap still on, he drew invisible lines on the white carpet, slowly and almost beautifully, before resting his hand on the red spot. The spot where you two had spilled cherry juice once when you laid there for hours, talked for days, and laughed for years. It was also the spot where he had told you that he wanted to end things with you.

The faintest image of two children play wrestling emerged from thin air, only to vanish in front of your eyes and this time, you didn’t fight back the tears. The blissful laughter of two best friends taking on the world was still lingering in your ear. But you knew not even the echo would remain.

“How is May?”

He looked at you with a pained expression. “What are you doing?”

You shrugged, and your eyes flickered to the ground. “Small talk.”

“Small talk?” He was on his feet now, hands threading through his hair. When he faced you again, glossy eyes were boring into yours, and a helpless tone slipped through his lips. “How can you call that small talk when you’re practically telling me you’re on fire.”

This time, you only lifted your shoulder in a meek half-shrug. “I guess I don’t know how to make small talk with you anymore.”

You stood up too, reluctantly, and almost slumped back to your knees, but you stood up. “I don’t know a lot of things anymore.” Your arms were hanging limbless by your sides and you craved to reach out and wrap them around his torso where they once belonged.

“I’m sorry if you blame me,” he said blandly, “If I were you I would.”

You shook your head and the damn tears wouldn’t stop welling up. “I couldn’t care less about that blaming game. Don’t you understand?”

He saw the look in your eyes and bit his tongue.

“It’s been 8 months.”

You almost laughed.

“You think I don’t know that? Every single day spent by myself? I was there, you know...” You did let out a bitter laugh. “And you weren’t.”

You took his silence as a cue to continue. “Sometimes, I get just a little bit alone and I miss you again. When I got an A on my Physics paper yesterday, I almost tried to call you. But I didn’t know if I should.”

You stepped forward, though your feet were still planted on the same spot.

“You were the love of my life even when I was young, Peter.” He winced when his name rolled off your tongue. He stared at the wall, giving you only the side of his face, but you could still see his red nose, the pink in his cheeks and the tears hanging onto his lashes. You pushed your foot off the ground, and cautiously, with effort, each step pierced through your heart, but you reached out, broke boundaries, and took his hands in yours as they were fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

”And I was the love of your life inside your head,” you said softly and with the simple touch of his wrist, you felt his pulse quicken. Meeting your eyes for a fleeting second, he pulled back, leaving your hands cold and hollow again.

“Just because you’re hurting, doesn’t mean I’m not,” he snapped, and you kept quiet.

“When I told you...” He jammed his hands into his pockets and squeezed his eyes shut, a single, glistening tear rolled down his cheek. “When I told you I was Spider-Man, I said I didn’t want you to be a part in any of it for a good reason. The look on your face when I would climb through that window, covered in injuries, killed me. I thought you saw it coming, but you never could.”

“I wasn’t the one killing you, Peter.” His name stung in your throat. “You said our love was bigger than we could ever fathom. We could take on the world with it, remember? You said you would love me until the end of our days—you said forever, and I almost bought it, and you know why? Because I always believed you, I believed you would never hurt me.”

“Well, clearly things change.”

“Do they?”

“Yes.”

You shook your head.

“That night, you told me if it doesn’t go away by the time we turn thirty, you would realize you made a mistake and tell me you’re sorry. But why wait until we’re thirty? Why do we have to go through any pain at all? Why? Tell me why, Peter.” You raised your voice, despair pulling at the cord around your throat, and you narrowed your eyes, vision blurring even more until it was distorted. You repeatedly shoved his shoulder and he let you. The same way, he walked away and you let him.

The rage disappeared as fast as it shot up your spine and you halted, fists glued to his shoulders.

You slumped back to your knees with a sob and he caught you, cradling your head into his chest while his hands held your wrists in a tight grip. He was quick to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close, no hesitation, before nestling your head into the crook of his neck. Another sob escaped your mouth and he held onto your shaking body.

“We could’ve made it work. It was us, for Pete’s sake! Why did you give up on us?” You pulled back and stared at him with blurred eyes.

“Why did you stop loving us?”

There were tear stains on his shirt, and you didn’t know whom they belonged to. Reaching out, his thumb traced over your cheeks to wipe away any sign of sadness, desperately trying to hide the pain with a trembling hand.

“I never stopped loving us.” His voice was frail, almost empty, and he pulled up the rim of his shirt to wipe away your tears. “I could never. I want us so bad, Y/n, but you know that’s not meant to happen.”

“No,” you pushed yourself off him and pointed at him with a shaky finger. “We are not doing this again. Listen to me.” With his face in your hands, it was your turn to wipe away the tears. Staring into his eyes, they were raw and vulnerable, both knowing all too well that this might be your last chance with each other, so you pushed past the trembling and the voice cracks. You were not about to do the same mistakes as last time.

“Yes, I hate it when you come back bleeding and covered in wounds, and it frustrates me and scares me, but that’s part of dating a hero, and to my luck, Spider-Man asked me out over a half-eaten churro and some cherry juice.” He cracked a smile and used the back of his hand to run it over your cheek. “I’d rather not sound like Hedwig right now, but Peter, you’re a hero. You put on ridiculously tight spandex, look scandalously good in them, and then risk your life to help others for no reason other than that it’s the right thing to do. And I’m in love with that guy. So deeply, utterly, unabashedly in love. Peter, part of us, is you, and nothing in this world could ever make me want to change you.”

His eyes glowed with something you thought you would never get to see again, love and gratitude, and you knew you had him back even when he whispered, “I just don’t want you to worry.” You shook your head.

“I will always worry. It comes with loving somebody. Not just loving Spider-Man, but loving Peter Parker. Pete, you could get a minor paper cut and I would go absolutely ballistic. That’s just a part of me that you need to accept if you want us to happen.”

He let out a sigh, sparked eyes staring into yours, while pain was laced with his words.

“God, I missed you so much, Y/n. So fucking much.” He rested his forehead against yours, nose touching, while his hands were cupping your cheeks. “I wish we could get back those past months. I’m an idiot, a complete jackass for letting you go, and nothing could ever make up for the pain I caused. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” He hugged you closer and closer, pressing your heartbeats together.

“I’ll move planets for you, wrap myself in bubble wrap, do all of your Physics assignments, and clean that stain in your carpet, just so you could one day find it in yourself to forgive me. I’ll do anything, baby.”

A small smile graced your lips as you shook your head, and with a voice that was rich with wild happiness, you replied, “Just don’t push me away, idiot.”

* * *

* * *

god, i’ve never written proper angst before so pls let me know if you felt anything. literally anything, if you farted, i’d love to take credit for that too. thank you for reading nonetheless! love you guys ♡

masterlist

taglist:  @honeypie-holland @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @himarisolace @duskholland @insidiousslut @totallyfangirling7177 @siriuslyslyslytherin

[jenonctcity]

No Nut November - Jaemin

Na Jaemin – Smut, Crack, Fluff

Warnings: Explicit content, a lot of mentions of penis’s, dirty talk, brief spanking, oral (male receiving).

Word Count: 3k

Summary: 00’s line take part in No Nut November.

The Rules of No Nut November:

You cannot have sex, masturbate, or nut in any way, shape, or form.

Watching pornography and having boners are allowed, but you can’t nut.

You are only allowed one wet dream. If you have more than one, then consider yourself out.

You do not have 3 strikes; you only have one shot at it. If you miss it, you’re out.

 If you have passed the month with a total of 0 nuts, you are a victor and you shall qualify for Destroy Dick December (Not Recommended).

Look man, just don’t nut in 30 days. 

Series

 Day 1:

Jaemin had made it very clear to you a week before the month changed to November, that he had every intention of doing no nut November. The week building up to it you had been pinned to whatever surface Jaemin had deemed fit and had been fucked hard. It was the best week of your sexual activity that you’d ever experienced, so you were kind of happy he was going to take part in the strange internet trend. You also knew once the month was over that he would go into a sex crazed state and give you a performance good enough to rival his last show.

However, it wasn’t you that you were worried about not being able to last the entire month. You were certain that Jaemin could not go a whole month without trying to get into your pants. You knew your boyfriend well enough to know that he had a very high sex drive, leading him to asking you for sex nearly every time he saw you. It didn’t help that he was the master of flirting. It made it easy for him to charm your underwear off your body. He had a knack for sending you dirty texts that were filthy enough for your face to heat up in want and slight embarrassment. He once sent you a dick pic that your friend was absolutely mortified to have seen by accident when you opened the text, not having expected him to send pictures of his meat in the middle of the day.

As you stood in your local book store, enjoying the peace and quiet it bestowed upon you, you browsed the fiction section, hoping to find a book about a hopeless romance that ended in heartbreak or a forever love, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It caused you to jump a little but luckily, you’d remembered to put your phone on silent before entering the book shop. You pulled it from your pocket and smiled softly when you saw the contact name said ‘Nana’.

“I miss you :(” his text read, your smile widening at his adorable use of the sad face emoji. You wondered if his text had a hidden meaning or not but decided it probably didn’t because it had only been about half day since he last got his dick wet. You took your time to reply, typing with one thumb as you glanced between your phone and the bookshelf in front of you.

“You saw me about 4 hours ago, I was naked in your bed. Remember?” You replied with a soft giggle, not even surprised when his reply came less than 20 seconds later.

“I remember well! ;) But do you not miss me?” You could almost hear the pout he was more than likely sporting through the words written on your screen. You smirked, trying to suppress a giggle as you replied.

“No.” You quickly followed up with another text. “Just kidding, love you boo.”

“Ouch. My heart bleeds.”

“How are you holding up? Not touched your precious pleasure rod yet have you?” You couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“First of all, ew, never call Jaemin Junior a pleasure rod ever again. Secondly, no I haven’t touched it yet! Have some faith in me!”

“Ew since when have you referred to it as Jaemin Junior?”

“Since now, actually I hadn’t even thought about anything sexual until you brought it up you perv!” You sniggered, rolling your eyes and leaving him on read as you went back to scouring the shelf for the book you desired.

 Day 2:

“Hey babe…” Jaemin patted your thigh, trying to gain your attention as you sat beside him in a taxi. You were on the way to a movie theatre and decided a taxi was the best way to avoid the downpour of rain hitting the earth forcefully.

“Yeah?” You tore your line of sight away from staring out of the window to look at him.

“Have you got any nudes on your phone?” He leaned in close, his lips beside your ear as he whispered lowly to make sure the driver didn’t hear him.

“Na Jaemin!” You whisper-shouted at him, not believing the audacity he had to ask you that in the back of a taxi.

“Please baby just give me your phone and I’ll find them myself.” He whined, holding his hand out to your expectantly.

“No!” You slapped his hand away, watching the way his lips turned into an endearing pout.

“Please…I can’t remember what your body looks like…” You shoot him a disapproving glare, shaking your head slowly at him.

“No!”

“Fine!” He turned away, folding his arms over his chest and pretending to throw a tantrum. He didn’t ask again but later on you did send him a cheeky booty pic, much to his excitement.

 Day 5:

The hot rivets of water hit your skin and ran down the contorts of your body, leaving a warm sensation flooding through your system. The water had no competition against Jaemin’s soft lips peppering open mouthed kisses across the back of your neck. The plush pillows sending cool shivers down your spin, a complete contrast to how hot your body felt.

“I want you so bad baby girl.” He murmured, his words almost getting lost amongst the noise of the water hitting all the surfaces of the shower. You hummed in acknowledgment, his hands wrapping around your from behind, fingers teasing you on their ascent to your breasts. “Let me make you feel good.” His big hands cupped your soft boobs, thumbs and forefingers each pinching your hardened nipples. A bolt of pleasure shot through you, it rippling down your body from your chest to your neglected clit. You became putty in his hands, him pulling your flat against his chest and gyrating his hips into yours enough for you to feel the prominent erection he’d formed.

A sudden reminder popped into your head. A reminder that Jaemin was supposed to be participating in no nut November. You rolled your eyes, pulling away from his grasp – although somewhat reluctantly, and turning to face him.

“I knew you’d try to fuck me before the end of the month.” You smirked at him, moving your hands up to cup his cheeks and pecking the gobsmacked look off of his lips with your own. He struggled to form words, his mouth opening and closing as he stared down at your smug face. “You’re weak Na Jaemin.” You whispered, leaning in and taking his lips between your own in a lingering, steaming kiss, the water running over your heads as you got in the line of the water streaming from the shower head. His arms looped around your torso, pulling you against him and holding your naked bodies together.

“I’m not weak.” He whispered into the kiss, his tongue poking out and trailing over the lining of your lips before working its way into your mouth. He flicked his tongue against your own, rolling his hips into yours and moving his hands down to squeeze your ass. He moved his lips down your face, to your jaw and nipping at your wet skin.

“You’re still trying to-” Your words were cut off by a moan slipping from your parted lips, his perfect mouth sucking right on the spot he knew would make your knees shake.

“Let me treat you.” He spun you around, forcing you up against the wall of the shower, bent slightly and presenting your ass out to him. You bit your bottom lip, spreading your legs apart enough to give him access to your dripping heat. He trailed his fingertips down your spine, the slight tickle causing shudders to shoot across your nerves. He ran the palm of his hand over the curve of your ass cheeks, removing it only to bring it down on your skin with a slap. You gasped in surprise, relaxing as he spanked you once more before jamming a finger inside your slick hole. “So wet for me baby girl, do you like it when I spank you?” He used his free hand to bring it down on your ass once more before leaning that hand on the shower wall and putting all his weight on it, his body hovering over yours.

“Yeah…oh god.” You moaned, rutting your hips back into his hand. He slowly withdrew his finger, circling your sodden hole with the tip of his finger before ramming it back inside of you, pumping it slowly to loosen you up. He added another finger, his lips attaching themselves onto your shoulder. He smirked when you whined against the cold shower wall, the warm water cascading down onto your body, but it was the warmth you felt from Jaemin that was making you overwhelmed.

“You want me to fuck you with my fingers harder?” He bit at the skin of your shoulder, maintaining the slow pace with his fingers. “Answer me.” He growled, stopping his fingers altogether at your silence.

“Yeah! Fuck me hard!” You whimpered at the loss of stimulation, wiggling your hips as an incentive for him to continue.

“As you please princess.” He smirked, thrusting his digits back into you hard and fast. The hand he was using to hold himself up on the wall moving to cup your breast in his hand. His fingers working over your sensitive nipple causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

“Jaemin!” You squeaked, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as the knot tightened in your stomach. “Right there don’t stop!” A gasp ripped from your chest, his teeth biting into your shoulder enough to leave teeth marks behind as the white-hot feeling rushed through your body, your climax hitting suddenly. Your chest rose and fell as you tried to catch your breath, your legs shaking and hips stuttering as he stopped his ministrations on your core.

“That’s my girl.” He gently kissed the bruise he’d made on your shoulder, withdrawing his fingers from you and opting to enclose his mouth around his dripping digits. He sucked them clean, dropping his eye into a wink and turning his back to you to wash his hair, his hard on being left unattended to, much to your surprise.

 Day 7:

So far, so good. To your knowledge, Jaemin had managed to not touch his penis in any sexual way at all, which again, had shocked you. You’d assumed he wouldn’t make even 3 days, so him having lasted a week actually impressed you. Despite many close calls, Jaemin had reigned in the hormones and want for you, simply keeping it in his pants, or by pulling away during your steamy session in the shower days prior. About an hour ago, Jaemin had fallen asleep on your bed, even though you’d both planned on walking down the local convenience store to buy snacks for the evening. Not wanting to disturb him because his sleeping face made your heart warm, you’d decided to go on your own and leave him to nap. Choosing not to rush, you’d taken your time in getting the snacks, and stealthily entered your apartment silently in case Jaemin was still sleeping. You’d dumped the snacks on the kitchen counter, and slowly creeped towards your bedroom. You raised an eyebrow in confusion when you heard weird noises emitting from the room. You held your ear to the door, listening as realization dawned on you, causing you to gasp loudly.

“Na Jaemin!” You burst into the room, pointing at him accusingly. “You’re watching porn!!!” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes wide and arms folded across his chest. You paused, about to accuse him of losing no nut November when you noticed he wasn’t touching himself inappropriately. “You’re…erm…are you watching porn for the plot?” You glanced at the television opposite your bed, the scandalous video of a girl having a cock shoved down her throat greeting your eyes.

“Kinda…” He shrugged, grabbing the remote and shutting off the power.

“You’re so strange…” You both looked at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“I was bored, and I missed it!” He defended himself, watching your every move as you slinked closer to the bed, a seductive look gleaming in your eye. You’d had enough of this stupid no nut November thing, deciding once and for all the test his resolve. “What are you doing…?” He asked suspiciously when you clambered onto the bed, throwing your leg over his own and sitting just above his knees on his outstretched legs.

“Oh nothing…” You bit your bottom lip alluringly, his eyes watching your hands as they slowly peeled down his jogging bottoms. “Lift your hips like a good boy yeah?” You winked, his hips lifting automatically to your order. You pulled his joggers down, his boxers coming down with them. His hard cock sprang up to his t-shirt, your eyes zoning in on it like a predator hunting its prey. You pushed his t-shirt up, exposing his defined abs and smirking as a bead of pre-cum oozed from the tip onto his stomach.

“Hey…don’t touch that penis missy.” He spoke with a dominating tone, you giggled, raising an eyebrow challengingly at him.

“Or what?”

“Or I lose no nut November!” He gulped, sighing and leaning his head back onto the soft pillow of your bed. “Fine. Touch it.”

“Yay!” You gripped his cock at the base, pulling it so it stood upright. Your touch took his breath away, a week proving to be too long for the absence of having his dick touched in a sexual manner. This is what he’d been craving since the he’d decided to take on this stupid challenge, and he knew he couldn’t last out long. You held eye contact with him, leaning down to rest the head of his cock on your bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.” He wasn’t used to this amount of dominance from you, it causing a firework of pleasure to burst inside his stomach.

“Suck my cock baby girl, make me cum.” You poked your tongue out, kitten licking another drop of pre-cum that spilled. The bitter taste didn’t bother you, and you actually enjoyed giving your boyfriend blowjobs, knowing a lot of your friends had different opinions on giving head. “Hurry.” His own dominance shone through, challenging your own and giving you the sensation of needing to comply to him. You fluttered your eyelashes at him, taking the head of his cock between your lips and sucking gently. “Oh fuck.” He wanted to bend his knees, but you were caging them underneath your body, restricting his movement. His fingers found their way into your hair, gripping at it gently. Without any warning, you took all of his hard length into your mouth, sucking harshly and bobbing your head up and down in perfect rhythm. Puffs of air left his parted lips as he tried to cope with the pleasure coursing through his cock, his toes curling in response.

You pulled off to wipe at your mouth, spit forming in the corners of your lips. You leaned forward, placing soft kisses on his abs and slowly trailing them back down to his red, leaking cock awaiting the presence of your warm mouth. You take him back in your mouth, making sure to stare into his soul as your drag your lips down his shaft and back up against tauntingly, letting your lips leave the tip with a pop. You use your hand to pump him fast, biting your bottom lip as his stomach starts to flex. He whimpered, squirming on the bed before letting out a loud grunt, his grip on your hair tugging harshly as he came. You’d opened your mouth in perfect time, white ribbons coating your tongue and lips.

“Fuck you look hot covered in my cum.” He panted, watching as you closed your mouth and made a point to lick your lips provocatively in front of him. “You’re a dirty girl.” He spoke lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught his breath. You let go of his cock, letting it flop to the side without cause. “Also, fuck you! I was doing great at no nut November and you just had to ruin it didn’t you!” After the bliss of his orgasm wore off, he sat up, pushing you onto your back against the bed. You squeaked in surprise, suddenly the ceiling being all you could see until Jaemin came into your view, his body hovering over your own.

“Punish me then.” Winking at him to rile him up, you trailed a hand over your own body, squeezing your boob over your clothes and grinning cheekily at him. “Do your worst.”

“You’re in for a long night baby girl.” He smirked his famous smirk at you, immediately diving in to suck at the crook of you neck. 

No Nut November: Na Jaemin - Fail.

(A/N: Hello! Thank you so much to everyone whose liked/reblogged/commented and messaged me about this series. It’s been a wild ride and I’m overwhelmed from the love its gotten! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you thought of the series as a whole and whether you’d like me to do Destroy Dick December!)

[kyberphilosopher]

Tᴡᴏ Fɪɴɢᴇʀs

Word Count: 2056

Requested: yes. not my best work, but i think i’m satisfied with the result. i’d like to do more things like this. 

violence. graphic description of loss of limb. 

“The universe is made of five elements, and each of the five fingers is represented by one of these elements. The thumb represents the fire, as well as universal consciousness. The index finger represents air and individual consciousness. The middle finger represents akasha, or connection. The ring finger represents earth, and the little finger the element of water.

When these five elements are not in balance, we can experience disease in the body.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Anakin gasps as he hits the ground. The blow knocks all the wind from his lungs, leaving him heaving and choking for air. The soreness creeps into his muscles suddenly and without warning. 

His left palm slams against the matted floor below him, tapping out. The slap rings out, but Anakin almost feels like you didn’t hear it. He hits the floor a second time, slightly softer with his urgency. 

“I’m out,” Anakin gasps. “I’m out!” 

“I know,” you say smugly. You stand tall above him as proof of who’s won this fight. It was just sparring, but that didn’t make the man feel any better. You weren’t necessarily more powerful than him, or a better Jedi. But you were more flexible and swift in combat, which made you a more challenging opponent with hand to hand sessions. 

Your hand drops down to the man, an offering to help him up. After raising his head just enough to observe it, he rolls his eyes. His left hand reaches up to clasp your own. For extra support, his right, metal one comes up as well. You grip both tightly, using your knees to bring him up. 

“You’re lucky we aren’t fighting for real,” you say as you heave the man up. 

Anakin gives a single, humorous huff. “You’d never fight me. We both know it.”

Then you looked into his eyes. A small, calm and loving smile formed on your lips, taking in the shape of his face. Bright blue orbs, slightly arched brows with a slit from his scar. Smooth skin, chapped and pink lips. He was the chosen one, the one who walked the sky. The most beautiful, important person in your life. Your colleague, your friend... your family. Your love. The one you would follow anywhere. 

“I guess you’re right,” you say simply, admiration glued to your eyes. “I would never fight you.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Now it was your turn for your body to feel sore. 

It stemmed from your chest, at your most important organ. Your heart was buzzing between not beating at all and beating all too fast and hard. Your lungs were begging for a real breath of air, and try as you might to deliver it, it was difficult. Every intake of oxygen was agony, no matter how long ago you saw it as a blessing. Everything inside of you was falling apart, crumbling and crippling and hacking itself into millions of pieces. It hurt. 

You were leading your troops into battle over Saleucami. There was a few cruisers for support, firing at the opposes forces Separatist ships. Multicolored lasers everywhere, you and your men zipping about in your fighters. 

Flying was always fun for you. Anakin and yourself used to race in your off time, laughing when Obi-Wan fell behind. Anakin won too many times to count, you a close second. But this time flying wasn’t fun. Something went wrong. 

“I’m glad I have you,” you said over the coms, following your commander’s acts. Some daft droids were on your tail, being very persistent about following you before he shot them down. “You’re the best, Izzy,” you promised him. And normally, he would’ve said something back. But this time, all you heard was a quiet breath. 

Commander Izzy shot you out of the sky, taking out one of your engines. You clambered forward, bracing your head as you spiraled out of control. The smoke was filling your chamber fast, your fingers jamming in between panels and oozing with blood. The Clone shot at your fighter again for good measure. A few seconds later, you crashed through a ray shielded Separatist hanger and skidded across the ground. 

Order Sixty-Six had taken something from everyone. It took Cody from Obi-Wan. It took Padme’s will. Ahsoka was left with nothing but a shattered state of mind, and Rex not far behind her. Maul no longer had a sense of direction. The Jedi lost their troops, and their lives. The troops lost their family. The only Jedi who gained anything from the Order was Master Windu, who had earned the pleasure of being right in his final moments. But you had lost more than just one thing, or one person. 

The first thing you lost was two fingers. 

Your left pointer and middle were trapped in between a slot of two metal sheets. You could feel the wires under them. No matter how much they wiggled, they wouldn’t come free. They were burning, straining, losing blood and fast. The deep ruby color was coming down in thick streams as you grit your teeth, holding it at the wrist as you pulled and growled. 

The burning ceased with a pop. You didn’t have the time to scream or shout or bind the wound. Your memory was rather blurred, but you managed to roll out of your fighter just before it exploded into millions of pieces. Then you laid on the floor for a while, heaving as you clutched your left palm close to your chest and your veins froze over. The blood was pumping out of you in rivers and splotches and staining everything. The pain was immobilizing, but there was more to it. 

All you could think about was Anakin. You didn’t know why. His name just continued to drum over in your mind like a vibration. You could hear distant screams of friends and younglings. You could hear your own, future screams of agony. You could feel Obi-Wan’s tears drop down in heavy drips.  You could even smell the birth of a child, followed by another loss. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Then, Order Sixty-Six took your loved ones. That’s why you are where you are now. 

The planets heat was licking your face furiously. Bubbles of lava exploded into bolts in the distance. You hadn’t believed it when you’d seen the giant, obsidian fortress looming into the sky, but now you were forced to. You hadn’t believed it when you’d heard Obi-Wan say the words, but now you were forced to. You hadn’t believed it when you felt it deep in your soul, when you had seen it all through his eyes. Now you were forced to. 

And it felt awful. 

It hurt like hell. It hurt worse than tearing your fingers apart. It hurt worse than the time you were speared through your shoulder. It hurt worse than losing Izzy. It hurt worse than watching Ahsoka walk away. It hurt worse than anything in the galaxy. It was more than just physical pain too- it was emotional, mental. Rooted deep down inside of you and gluing itself to your bloody tendons. But it was real. It was alive and clear as a Tatooine dawn. That was the worst part. 

“You turned her against me!” Anakin had yelled. His chest was raising with heavy breaths of rage, eyes flitting between Obi-Wan and yourself. Your own lungs felt like they were collapsing in time with his. 

Obi-Wan stood strong. “You have done that yourself,” he promised. Had air always been this difficult to not choke on?

“You will not take her from me!” Anakin seethed. His hair was glowing in the fiery light. Eyes were piercing and daring and troubling all the same, melted like a sickness. A Sith sickness. They met yours, and you know he feels vengeful and disappointed in you all the same. He’s wrong for it, but it stings nonetheless. 

“You came here to kill me!” he accuses. 

You give out a painful breath, trying not to let your eyes fill with tears. “I came here to save you!” you roared back over the lava. “To talk some sense into you!”

“You’re the one who needs some sense talked into you!” Anakin retorted angrily. His right hand drops to his saber at his side. This time it hurts your bones. “You’re traitors! The both of you are traitors!”

“Anakin do you hear yourself?!” Obi-Wan yelled. Anakin didn’t tear his eyes from yours. 

“Join me, or fight me.”

Was Anakin even Anakin anymore? Blinded by hatred and revenge and everything he’d sworn to destroy, he would kill you if he had to. He would kill everything you had once shared. Stories, truths, jokes, stares that lasted longer than they should’ve. He was going to let it die, and you with it. Maybe he even wanted to finish it himself. 

“I said I wouldn’t fight you,” you told him. “And I meant it.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You never saw Anakin again. 

Obi-Wan and Anakin... Obi-Wan and Darth Vader slipped away from you in battle. They disappeared down a bridge and hallway, their blue beams clashing against each other over and over again. It was more than hard to watch. You were ashamed of yourself for not being able to fight him like Obi-Wan had, for lacking the strength or courage to do so. But Anakin was everything to you. You couldn’t find it within yourself to harm him, especially not after the promise you’d made to him so long ago. 

You took Padme back to the ship. Then you sat and waited, knowing someone was not coming back. Whether it was Anakin or Obi-Wan, you couldn’t say. But you could feel everything you chest fluttering. Every lightsaber swing from him, every beat of his heart. You could feel it like it was your own. 

And when he fell down into the fires of Mustafar, your whole body went aflame as well. Burn marks appeared like drawings on your skin, scarring you forever. 

Anakin didn’t come back. Anakin wouldn’t come back until years and years later, after even Obi-Wan’s death. If you lived to see it, he wouldn’t know. Once he became the metal man, his bond was separated from you. Anything you two might’ve had was gone, melting down in the lava as he had. 

The only time he’d see anything of yours again was about a month later, when a droid had brought him two skinny, long fingers as proof of your death. 

You’d begged him not to go down the path that he had chosen. He could remember your voice ringing in his mind with all the memories, dividing the man even further. But what was done was done. Darth Vader couldn’t have brought back the lives he’d taken. He couldn’t have asked Padme to forgive him, or Obi-Wan to help him. And he couldn’t ask you to kill him, because you’d made a vow to never strike him down out of pure love. 

You’d loved him more than anyone, and that’s how he knew. Padme had left him, and he struck her down. Obi-Wan had challenged him, and he dueled him out. But when Anakin had killed everyone, and left everything behind, you had stayed strong in your promise. Even when his actions had costed you part of your hand, you were true. 

That’s what broke his heart the most. 

At nights, when all in the galaxy is quiet and asleep except for Lord Vader himself, he opens up his hologram. Some nights he sees Padme. Some nights he sees Ahsoka. Most nights, he sees Obi-Wan. But then there’s nights where he forces himself to look at your face again, admit to you what he’s done. If you’re dead, he doesn’t know it. He just knows he can’t feel you anymore. 

He doesn’t know that you share his burns. He doesn’t know that you live in exile with only eight fingers. But he misses you. And when he returns to where he belongs, when Anakin returns to the light, he’ll tell you he’s sorry. He’ll tap out, one last time. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @imagines-im-obsessed-about​ @chokemeanakin​ @anakinswhore​ @haztory​ @fanficsforheartandsoul​ i think that’s everyone this time.

[lalainajanes]

17 + 43 for the prompts!! so happy to see that you're accepting prompts

Okay, these are from a list I reblogged awhile back thinking writing would be done (but then 2020 decided do continue to be 2020 - aka a series of awful awfulness). I’ve missed writing and I’m getting back into the habit so I decided to finish up a short-ish thing that was already in progress.

#17 was meeting at a party whilst drunk au and #43 was falling in love with their best friend’s partner au. But I didn’t get to drunk and I’m cheating a little bit with the definition of partner – my brain is an angst free zone these days!

That Perfect Stranger

As much as Caroline hates surprises, she does take a certain amount of joy in surprising other people. When she’d gotten an invite to Bonnie Bennett’s 50th birthday party, she’d immediately started investigating flights to New Orleans.

She hadn’t RSVP’d. Rude? Probably. Caroline had rationalized that, based on the invites (champagne cardstock embossed with a shimmer so subtle it had to be stupidly expensive), whoever was throwing the party wouldn’t skimp on food or drink, so an extra person wouldn’t be an issue.

It’s been about ten years since she’d last seen Bonnie, and she’s never visited Bon’s adopted home town.

Weaving her way through the thick crowds on the streets, carried along by the music and the energy, Caroline’s kicking herself for not making the trip sooner. She has a general idea of where she’s going, has the address memorized, but she’s content to take a meandering route.

That might be the slight buzz she already has going – either the drinks from the bars here are really heavy on the booze, or there’s something in them designed to affect vampires. She’s getting a few appreciative leers in her short metallic dress, but given the vast array of attire on display – from ratty jeans, to sparkly costumes, to the tiniest club skirts – she doesn’t feel out of place.

She might have to stay a few extra days and do some exploring.

Caroline’s not entirely sure how her oldest friend had ended up in New Orleans. They’d reconnected long after Bonnie had made the move. Bonnie’s never been one to brag though Caroline’s heard whispers from other acquaintances. Something about evil witches coming back from the dead, mortal danger, a showdown of supernatural species, then Bonnie showing up to kick ass and take names.

At the time, Caroline had still been committed to pretending to be human. She’d fled Mystic Falls when it became clear that far too many people wanted to kill her, had hitchhiked across a few states before her cash had run out in Chicago.

Luckily, she’d mastered compulsion easily. Chicago was home to all sorts of easy marks – business bros who genuinely thought hitting on a seventeen-year-old girl was a thing they should be doing. Typically, such a man’s only redeeming quality, which Caroline had been happy to take advantage of, was the lack of a limit to how much money he could withdraw from the ATM at once. It had taken a little trial and error, but she’d mastered feeding enough to sustain herself without leaving a pile of bodies behind.

She’d built up a nice little nest egg, had even gotten her first college degree. She’d optimistically sent her parent’s an invite to her graduation. Her mother hadn’t shown; her dad had. He’d just been armed with a stake and a jug of vervain.

After that, Caroline had given up on blending in.

She’d been flitting around the globe for about a decade when Bonnie had found Caroline on Instagram and sent a DM. At first, Caroline had been leery about another trap. Bonnie hadn’t been too thrilled to make Caroline a daylight ring, and she’d kept her old email address for years, hadn’t heard a peep from anyone she’d grown up with. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she’d replied.

Stilted text conversations got longer, more fluid. Eventually, they’d progressed to phone calls. Caroline had carefully planned their first meeting, in a city where she had connections and witches were thin on the ground.

They’d had some hard conversations on that trip. Ended up spending way too much time ugly crying indoors, considering they’d been in freaking Porto in June. They’ve made up for it in the years since.

Caroline sidesteps a pack of probable frat boys – cute, she notes idly, probably tasty – twists her head a bit to make eye contact (she’s not hungry now, but who knows how the night will go). She smiles, a little flirty, only to stop abruptly as the noise disappears as if someone had pressed the pause button.

She can still see the street behind her, jam-packed with people and lit up by streetlights and neon bar signs. In front of her, however, it’s quiet. Still. Caroline jumps when a throat clears, her head whipping around to see a man in a white tux who definitely hadn’t been there before. “What the crap?” she squeaks, fangs dropping.

His face remains smooth, not even a hint of shock or fear evident. He’s blandly handsome, nonthreatening, but she’s learned not to trust outer appearances. “Miss Caroline Forbes, correct? You’re here for Miss Bennett’s birthday?”

Warily, Caroline nods.

White tux smiles, friendly now, “Excellent; she’ll be pleased you’ve made it. Can I see you inside?”

His head tips, and Caroline almost jumps when a stone staircase freaking shimmers into view. White Tux pretends he hadn’t noticed her shock, jogging up the steps. He pulls a gleaming door open. It lacks a doorknob, is instead marked with half a shiny M (probably real gold, she decides).

He waits patiently while Caroline makes her way up the steps. She’s careful, given the fact that they’d appeared magically. Between her high heels and her short skirt, even her vampire reflexes won’t save her from humiliation should she take a fall. When she’s at the top, she peers inside curiously.

She hears music again, the clink of glasses. Laughter. “Do you need to see my invite?”

Caroline’s got it in her purse, but the man shakes his head. “Not necessary. You wouldn’t have seen me if you weren’t on the guest list. Welcome to The Abattoir. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

“Thank you,” Caroline murmurs, biting back her questions about the impressive magic this place obviously holds. No need to seem like a total yokel if she’s wrong, and cloaking gigantic buildings in the middle of a busy city is in every witch’s bag of tricks.

The lights are low, and most flat surfaces are covered in candles, lending a warm glow that bounces off ornate framed paintings and crystal chandeliers. The click of her heels is lost under the sounds of the party, louder now that she’s crossed the threshold. She follows the noise easily, walks through a set of double doors into a packed ballroom.

Caroline lifts on her toes, scanning the room, notes the party spilling out the far side, where several sets of French doors open onto what looks like expansive grounds. “Well,” she mutters, snatching a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, “Bon, you’ve been keeping some secrets.”

“I have not,” Bonnie says, and Caroline whirls, narrowly managing to avoid tipping her glass.

“Bonnie!” she squeals, shifting forward and throwing an arm around Bon’s shoulders. “Great dress.” It’s teal and short, with dramatic sleeves and a deep neckline, just a tiny bit witchy.

“I’m so glad you came!” Bonnie says, returning the hug enthusiastically.

“I am too, actually. Why have I never come to New Orleans before?” She sways a little to the music, drains her champagne, smiling when Bonnie laughs, “Seriously, I had a better time on the walk here than I have in ages.”

“We do like to hear that,” a low voice replies, just behind Caroline. She startles, dropping her glass, though it’s neatly caught by long fingertips, just next to her bare thigh, before it hits the floor.

People have got to quit sneaking up on her.

A hand lands on her hip, nudging her away from a potential collision with a nearby couple, and Caroline whirls, ready to remind Mr. Sneaky Feet that it's rude to interrupt a conversation.

The words don’t come. Caroline hadn’t realized just how close he would be.

Or that he’d be really attractive.

Her eyes dart to the champagne glass clutched in his hand, to a bare wrist, then a crisp white sleeve that’s already rolled up. His tie is askew, and his eyes are downcast, in the middle of giving her person an equally thorough perusal.

She can’t even be mad about it.

His thumb toys with the sequins that cover her dress, flicking one absently back and forth. She opens her mouth, unsure of just what is going to come out. There’s a 50/50 chance it’s either snippy – because hello, personal space – or flirty because she’s got excellent eyesight and fully believes in shooting her shot.

Thankfully, Bonnie interrupts, tugging on Caroline’s arm until she has the personal space that she’d been slow to take back for herself. “Klaus, this is my very good friend Caroline.”

There’s a definite warning in her tone. Caroline glances at Bonnie’s face, finds her expression is pleasant enough, at least to a person unfamiliar with Bon’s moods. Caroline is, however, so she studies Klaus a little more carefully. She shifts, boxing him out, and waits until Bon meets her eyes. A quirk of an eyebrow, then a tilt of her head, and Bonnie gets the message. “No, ew.”

So he’s not an ex, or someone Bonnie’s interested in. Good news, Caroline thinks, because that would be awkward considering how much she hadn’t minded his hands on her.

However, Caroline can’t help but look at Bon like she’s nuts.

Bonnie sighs, “It’s a long story. Klaus and I are…” she trails off, like she’s struggling for words.

“Partners,” Klaus supplies, smoothly shifting so they’re a circle once more. Caroline’s pretty sure he’s unused to being ignored.

“Eh, more like coworkers.”

A flutter of Klaus’ fingers and a new tray of champagne appears. He waits for Caroline to select a flute before taking one for himself. Bonnie declines with a shake of her head. “I feel like there’s a story here,” Caroline says, nudging Bonnie not so subtly with her foot to let her know that she’s a little peeved she hadn’t heard it before.

“Klaus is the one who first… invited me to New Orleans.”

Caroline doesn’t miss the hesitance. She narrows her gaze, shifting her weight to widen the distance between her body and Klaus.’ A smirk tugs at his full lips, but he sips his champagne, doesn’t press forward again. “I’m sensing the word invite is doing a lot of work there.”

He grins at that. “Truth be told, it was more of a coercion. A bit of blackmail, a few threats. But it all worked out for the best.”

Dubious, Caroline looks to Bonnie, only to find grudging agreement. “I will never admit Klaus is right about anything. But New Orleans is home now.”

Klaus’s smile turns taunting, and he lifts his glass, tipping it in Bonnie’s direction. “You’re welcome.”

Bonnie’s lips press together and Caroline feels an odd crackle of energy but then two other men, one familiar, one not, are at Bonnie’s side. The man she doesn’t recognize is taller and cups the back of Bonnie’s neck, pulling her into a kiss that’s so not appropriate for company. Enzo’s mouth brushes the side of Bonnie’s neck and Caroline knows she’s gaping at the scene like an idiot. Bonnie melts into Enzo though, her hands tugging the other guy closer. When he pulls back he tosses Caroline a salute, before spinning Bonnie onto the dance floor. She just catches his words before they’re swallowed up by the crowd, “No aneurysms on your birthday; you can torture Klaus at family dinner on Sunday.”

Enzo’s towed along, managing a wink at Caroline, “Hello, Gorgeous. We’ll catch up later, yeah?”

“Enzo, what…”

But he’s gone and Caroline resists the urge to dive in after them and start asking questions. “When did that happen?!” she exclaims, forgetting she has an audience.

Klaus leans closer, “Kol and Bonnie have been off and on for decades. They’ve been consistently on since Enzo arrived… about two years ago now.”

“I cannot believe they didn’t tell me,” Caroline grumbles. Enzo she kind of understands, he’s not the best at texting or emailing, is forever losing his phone. Bonnie should know that getting into a polyamorous relationship is the kind of juicy dirt that needs to be shared, damn it.

Klaus lifts a shoulder, “I’m not entirely sure your friend views it as serious. I expect a blow up once Kol presents her with the gift he bought for her. Possibly why he’s attempting to institute a no aneurysm rule.”

She’s dying to fish for more details, has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from immediately peppering Klaus with questions. He’s watching her expectantly though, his lips curled in amusement, and she knows that’s exactly what he expects.

Caroline would hate to be predictable.

She looks at the people near them, notes that most of them avert their eyes, as if they’ve been attempting to eavesdrop. “Klaus,” Caroline says again, letting the name roll off her tongue slowly.

“Mikaelson,” he supplies, with just a hint of a sigh. She supposes she has to give him a point for not attempting to deflect. “I assume my reputation precedes me?”

“That you’re an evil megalomaniac that’s prone to violent murderous rampages when things don’t go your way? I might have heard a whisper or two.”

He carefully avoids her gaze, sipping his drink calmly. “I’ve mostly cut down on those,” Klaus mutters.

Caroline hums noncommittally. But she doesn’t leave. “Bonnie leads the witches here, that much I know. What is it that you do?”

He moves closer, until she can feel the heat of his arm pressed against hers, skin separated by only his shirt. “I built this city.”

Caroline’s eye roll is automatic, too used to similar bragging from men who are trying to impress her. She reaches out, straightens his tie. “Sure,” she drawls, rubbing the obviously expensive fabric between her fingertips, “you seem like you build things all the time.”

He takes no offense, presses her hand flat against his chest, a laugh rumbling out of him. “You long are you planning on staying in my city, Caroline?”

His touch is light, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. It feels like an invitation, not a threat. Still, one can’t be too sure when playing with dangerous hybrids. “I assume that’s not a ‘be out before dawn if you don’t want your head on a pike’ hint?”

He circles her wrist, lifts her hand to his shoulder. He sets his glass aside, Caroline does the same. “Correct. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“Good to know,” Caroline says, letting Klaus lead her onto the dance floor.

She had already been contemplating a few extra days, hadn’t she?

[lady-divine-writes]

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “Anathema’s Solid Right Arm” (Rated PG)

Summary: Anathema takes it upon herself to bring together two customers she knows have a crush on one another ... drastically, if necessary. (1694 words)

Notes: I had started writing this for @ineffablehusbandsweek prompt coffeeshop au, but I never got it done. So I have written it for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 Day 2 prompt 'hot cocoa/cider'. Human au. Mainly fluff.

Read on AO3.

“So, Mr. Crowley,” Anathema says, eagerly setting her cocoa and her apple cider muffin on the iron bistro table out front of her shop, right by the door where she can keep track of customers going in and out, “is he here yet?”

“Who?” her reluctant companion, who’d been there first, nursing his mug of coffee while he eyed the people walking by, asks.

“Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Pfft. Who says I’m playin’?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. The man in the cream-colored coat who comes here every day at 2 o’clock for a cup of Earl Grey and a blueberry scone. The one you’ve been mooning over for weeks and weeks but refuse to say two words to.”

Crowley spots a gentleman who fits that exact bill weeding through the crowd. But by the time he reaches the coffee shop, it’s obviously not him, and Crowley groans. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“This is my shop, and you're a customer here, so I think that gives me exclusive bothering rights.”

“I liked you better when all you did was read books behind the counter and ignore the rest of us.”

“Lucky for you, you’re much more interesting than a book.”

“Lucky me,” Crowley grumbles in a put-upon voice.

Crowley isn’t exactly a friend of hers, but he is one of her best customers. He shows up every afternoon without fail at precisely 1:30 and orders the same thing each time - black coffee and the muffin of the day (which he never eats). Anathema had thought he chose her spot over other, more commercial coffee enterprises because of her homey atmosphere and signature, in-house roasted Arabica blends. Many of her customers (an older set among the locals) do. 

Turns out, he stopped by every day because of another daily customer of hers - a pleasant, older man with fluffy white-blond hair, and a positively glowing smile, the kind that can be described as lighting up a room. Anathema has watched the two of them religiously. To this day, Crowley has never once spoken to the man, and the man (Aziraphale is the name he gives when he orders) has made no move to speak to him either. And as it’s already nearing 2:15 with no sign of him, it seems today won’t be the day Crowley gets his chance. 

Which explains his sour mood.

Anathema watches Crowley pull apart his muffin with one hand while he searches the stream of pedestrians, not paying an ounce of attention to the fact that he’s decimating it, crumbs falling through the scrollwork on the tabletop and attracting birds from all around. 

Anathema feels for the man. She really does. She’s watched the evolution of him from the first day he walked into her shop: cocky, condescending, constantly criticizing everything from the smell of the place to the decor. But he’s softened considerably since Aziraphale, almost become a whole different person. 

There are some things about him that have not budged. He still dresses like a wealthy undertaker, sporting a pair of dark sunglasses whether it’s dreary out or fine. Both style choices make him the yin to Aziraphale’s yang seeing as Aziraphale only dresses in tones of lightest cream and pale, sky blue.

Anathem has become invested in whether or not these two end up together. There's no better time than the present. 

Christmas time.

Which Anathema considers the most romantic season of the year

(Stuff Valentine's!)

If Crowley isn’t brave enough to make the first move, and Aziraphale (whom she thought she caught more than once peeking surreptitiously Crowley’s way) won’t, then she needs to make this happen. 

Starting today, if possible.

But what if he found a different coffee shop to go to? 

What if he had been waiting for Crowley to say something and mistook his silence for disinterest?

How tragic would it be for these two to end up star-crossed!

Nope! Not on her watch!

She straightens up and peeks around at the customers enjoying their beverages on this blustery day, then beyond the dining patio to the holiday shoppers hopping from store to store. It’s easy to mistake many an older gentleman for the object of Crowley’s affections, but easier to spot him out the moment he arrives, threading through passersby like a salmon traveling upstream, offering everyone he meets a smile, a nod, and an, “Excuse me! I’m very sorry! I must get through!” 

“Look!" Anathema cheers. "Mr. Crowley! There he is!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Crowley says, but she sees the slightest twitch of a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he waits for Aziraphale to blow by him into the shop for his daily fare.

Except, he doesn’t. 

It doesn’t look like he’s stopping at all, hurrying through the crowd to continue down the street.

Crowley's twitchy smile withers. Anathema’s jaw drops as she stares at Aziraphale’s back while he walks on. In her peripheral, she sees Crowley’s head bow, his lips tightening into the thinnest of lines as he sinks slowly into his mug of freezing cold cider.

And that's that.

She has to do something! If she doesn’t, Crowley is going to be miserable for the remainder of the afternoon. Grumpy and alone, he'll stay out here well into supper and, in turn, will make her miserable.

She can’t have that.

But she doesn't know how to fix things. She can’t chase after the man. He has a considerable head start. Plus, with the crowd between them, she’s not sure she'll reach him before he gets away. 

She doesn’t know what on Earth possesses her. 

She grabs up the picked apart remains of Crowley’s muffin and, without another thought, hurls it with all her might. She thought she aimed low enough to tag Aziraphale’s shoulder, or brush his arm, but obviously not when she hits the poor man square on the cheek.

Anathema throws her hands over her mouth and gasps.

Crowley launches swiftly to his feet.

Aziraphale stops walking.

“What on Earth!?” Aziraphale mutters, pivoting quickly on his heel and looking over at them in surprise. But he doesn’t see Anathema at all. The second the muffin hits its mark, she says, "Good luck!" and bolts inside the shop, leaving her red-faced companion staring, mouth agape, at the man glaring back with a cheek covered in mascarpone cheese filling.

Aziraphale must recognize the culprit is Crowley because his demeanor changes. He smiles bashfully, feeling his pockets for a handkerchief, but his eyes never leave Crowley's face.

Silently, and from her hiding place just inside, Anathema cheers.

She knew it! She just knew it! 

After a few awkward seconds of searching, Aziraphale still can't seem to find it, and Crowley, realizing that this is the chance he's been waiting for, hurries to the rescue. 

On the brief saunter over, he debates the best opening line for this situation. Hello is first on the list. Hi sounds a bit too casual. Yo pops up to make a short appearance but is brutally beaten to death. What ends up coming out of Crowley's mouth, not even a contender, is, “Here,” as he thrusts a black handkerchief Aziraphale's way.

“Oh!" Aziraphale accepts it gratefully. "Thank you so much, my dear."

"Crowley," Crowley corrects, biting his tongue hard after because what did he have against this man calling him my dear? Not a single, Goddammed thing!

"Aziraphale," Aziraphale offers. "Uh … was that your muffin?”

“No! I mean, ngk … yes, it was. But someone tossed it … I suppose?” Crowley looks over at Anathema, who has the gall to spy on them through her front window, smiling like anything and making, what he can only describe as, encouraging hand motions.

“What kind was it?”

“The muffin of the day - apple cider, filled with …”

“Mascarpone cheese, yes," Aziraphale finishes with a frown. "Was it tasty, at least?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Didn’t get a nibble of it.”

“Pity.” Aziraphale side-eyes Crowley as he watches him wipe the remaining cheese off his cheek. “Thank you for this,” he says, gesturing with the handkerchief. “I’ll get it cleaned for you.”

“Keep it. This way you have an extra, just in case. You never know when some rogue baker might throw a muffin at you again. Or a doughnut.”

“True. A jam-filled would ruin this coat. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Is it?" Crowley steps back, gives the garment a casual once over as if he doesn't have the thing memorized - every line from shoulder to hem, the position of the pockets, the lay of the lapels. "It suits you.”

“Thank you," Aziraphale says, self-consciously tugging at the seams, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. 

The two men fall silent. Anathema, palms pressed against the glass, starts dramatically mouthing, "Do something! One of you! Do something!"

Neither of them sees her, but Aziraphale says, "Now I’m curious.”

“About what?”

“I’ve never had one of the specialty muffins. Creature of habit, I’m afraid. Always order the same thing.”

“I think she has one left if you’d like to give it a go.”

Aziraphale bites his lower lip, his cheeks turning a fetching shade of rose. “Do you think … would you mind splitting it with me? Then we can both satisfy our curiosities.”

That last part sounds like an invitation to more than sharing a muffin, and Crowley, admittedly dense to those sorts of flirtations, is determined not to let it pass him by.

“That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

Anathema beams when she sees Aziraphale and Crowley heading her way, flashing them a double thumbs-up that only Crowley catches. Crowley rolls his eyes. Aziraphale looks in time to see the top of her head drop below the sill, another unfortunate chair upturning behind her. “Is that the young lady who runs the shop?” he asks, pointing at Anathema's bun bobbing away from the window towards the counter.

“I believe it is,” Crowley says dismissively.

“Is she quite all right?”

“No.” Crowley sets the chairs right at the small table and offers one to Aziraphale. “Not in the slightest.”

[morningfears]

Youngblood

Rating: PG (a few swears, nothing big)

Summary: Someone requested this when Youngblood came out. I wrote it but never posted it. Essentially, listening to Youngblood for the first time as Ash’s girlfriend and giving him your opinion on it.

Word Count: 1.5k

“Ash, is it midnight yet?”

Ashton rolls his eyes playfully as he looks up from his phone and glances over at you. He laughs at the sight of you lying upside down on the couch, your head hanging over the edge and your headphones squishing your cheeks as they hang loosely around your neck. “No,” he hums as he tosses his phone onto the hotel bed and crosses the room to stand behind the couch. You feel his fingers drag along the exposed skin of your shin as he informs you, “Five more minutes.”

“Why can’t I listen now?” you pout as you lift your head just enough to catch sight of him. “I’ve been so patient, I haven’t asked to hear anything early this whole time! It’s killing me, Ashton. Do you want my death on your hands?”

“You’ve waited this long, doll,” he grins as he rounds the couch to take a seat beside you, “you can wait five more minutes. It won’t kill you.”

“But you don’t know that,” you whine as you shift yourself to rest your back against the arm of the couch and stretch your legs over Ashton’s lap, “it could very well send me into some sort of stress-related heart problem. Because my heart literally feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, I’m so excited.”

Ashton shakes his head at your dramatics as he rubs his fingers over the fuzzy pink socks covering your ankles. “Believe me, doll, I know the feeling. I’m just as excited for you to hear it as you are to hear it. I really want you to hear the stuff we’ve worked so hard on. But I want you to have the full experience.”

“And that full experience includes making me wait until it’s on Spotify, not letting me listen to the copy you have?”

“Exactly,” he nods with a grin before he tugs you closer to him. “Sorry, doll. Just two more minutes and then you can hear all of Youngblood.”

“Can I hear your solo? I know it’s only on the Target one and I honestly don’t think it’ll be on shelves until morning and I literally can’t wait that long so…” you trail off as you settle into his side.

“Yes, dear,” he laughs before he places a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll play Best Friend for you after you hear the rest of the album. Check your Spotify.”

You grab your phone from the coffee table and grin when you see that only one minute remains until midnight. Your grin grows when you see the notification pop up that new music is available for you. “Holy shit,” you cheer as you turn your headphones on and connect them to your phone, “I’m not listening out loud. I have to be surrounded by this perfection. You can go entertain yourself if you want, I’m gonna be here for a while.”

“I’m sure you’ll be plenty entertaining,” Ashton laughs as he allows you to shift away from him and return to the other end of the couch. “Just settle down, listen to the album. I really, really hope you like it.”

“I’m going to love it,” you assure him before you lean over to press a kiss to his lips, “just like I love you.”

“That was so fucking cheesy,” he teases as he pulls your headphones up and over your ears. “I love you, too. Now, quiet and listen to the album.”

After you settle into your spot on the couch, your feet returning to rest on Ashton’s lap, you hit play on the album. Not wanting to miss out on the full experience, you begin with Youngblood although you’ve heard it far too many times at this point. Ashton grins as he watches you bob your head and mouth the lyrics as he relaxes into the couch and turns his head to face you. He’s calm as you move on to Want You Back, another song you’ve heard multiple times at this point, but he can feel his heart begin to race just a bit as Lie To Me begins.

He tries not to stare at you, tries not to make you feel uncomfortable with his scrutiny, but he can’t help himself as he watches for any flicker of emotion to cross your face. Your opinion is one of the most important to him, he wants you to love the album as much as he does, and he’s excited for you to hear it. But he’s not sure how he can handle waiting for you to finish listening to it.

When you hit pause and nudge his thigh with your foot, Ashton blinks away the thoughts clouding his mind and raises an eyebrow at you. “Do I need tissues for this album?” you question, your eyes wide, “Because Lie to Me was fucking emo and I’m not ready for this. It was so nice, though. I loved it.”

A little bit of his anxiety disappears when you tell him that you love the track and he can read the sincerity in your eyes. “Maybe,” he laughs as he rubs the exposed skin of your shin, “but you can always come cry on my shoulder. I’ve got you, doll.”

“You say I’m the cheesy one,” you huff playfully with a roll of your eyes. “I’m good for right now. Valentine is up next and I know that one. I love it a lot, in case you were wondering. Remind me to tell Michael that I loved his voice in it.”

Ashton rolls his eyes with a laugh as he gestures for you to pull your headphones back up and over your ears. “We don’t have all night. You’re only on track four. Keep going.”

He laughs when you mutter a quiet, “Bossy,” under your breath but you do as your told and power through Valentine to reach Talk Fast.

“Fuck off,” you laugh when the song starts, “this is the 80s synth-pop jam I’ve always wanted. I fucking love this!” Ashton’s grin only grows as he watches you start dancing to the music sounding through your headphones. His heart is feeling lighter by the moment, the butterflies in the pit of his stomach are disappearing, and he’s wondering why he was ever nervous to have you listen to the album.

You’re one of the most genuinely supportive people in his life and he knows that, no matter what, you’re going to be there for him. This album is no different.

He almost wants to ask how you feel about Moving Along when he hears you mutter, “Yes, Cal. It is weird. Put on some fucking pants,” and nearly doubles over in laughter. 

He figures that you won’t keep up the running commentary, he can see you getting lost in the album, so he settles on watching the emotions flicker across your face. You’ve given up trying to hide your reactions from him, you’ve decided to just ignore his scrutiny and enjoy the album, and he can feel his own grin growing as you grin at a tune or frown at a lyric.

An hour later, you’ve run the spectrum of emotions and Ashton can feel the anxiety returning as he watches you turn off your headphones, lock your phone, and pull your legs from his lap. He’s about to ask what you thought of the album, ask what you’re doing, but before he can breathe a word, you’re situating yourself on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms come up to wrap around your torso as his hands rub your back.

“You alright?” he questions with a laugh when you bury your face in the crook of his neck but say nothing.

“You guys broke me,” you huff against his skin, “Youngblood is fucking amazing and I hate all of you. I feel so fucking emo right now.”

“I’m sorry, doll,” he laughs as he continues to rub your back, “I’m happy you love it, though.”

“I do,” you nod as you pull away to look at him, “I love it a lot and I’m so, so, so fucking proud of you guys. This album is so good and you guys have grown so much. You took your time and you did it right and I’m so happy for you guys. You’ve grown as people and as artists and I’m so proud to call you my boyfriend and the guys my friends. This album is brilliant and, ugh, I’m just so proud.”

Ashton smiles at the praise you continue to bestow on him and holds you tight against his chest. It means the world to him, knowing that you love it so much, and it makes him happy to have someone like you in his corner. “I love you,” he breathes as he pulls you closer to him to press a kiss to your lips. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I really want to make a joke and say crash and burn but I can’t. You’re so strong and so amazing that you’d be just fine but I’m really glad to be by your side. It’s a privilege and one that I don’t take lightly,” you assure him as you cup his cheeks and brush your thumbs over his heated skin.  “I love you.”

Ashton knows that he’s lucky to have you in his life and he knows that, regardless of what anyone else thinks, your approval is what truly matters.

__________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I lowkey miss writing super simple, really easy concepts. This was so fun. I love super intricate plots and fun stories but, like, something about a simple one shot, man. Also, can you tell that Talk Fast was my favorite song on the album? It really is the 80s synth pop song I needed. I can’t wait for CALM. I’m finally getting to see them live after being a fan since, like, 2013/2014 and, um. I can’t wait. To whoever requested this, sorry it’s, like. Almost two years late. Yikes. Anyway. Enjoy!

[greenygreenland]

Birds of a Feather Pt 1: (platonic) Scrooge McDuck & Reader

-i usually do star wars buuuuuut I'm becoming multi-fandom

-the original was deleted

-thanks a LOT technology. Three hours of hard work, down the drain

-comments will really help my mood, so please tell me if you like this

-happy father's day

Important note: You’re cursed with immortality, so you’re forever the age 15

Summary:

Scrooge has been hiding a secret from you for over two decades. You two argue and your relationship becomes rocky.

A week before

(Y/n) was seething in anger. Her chest heaved and her fingers curled into fists so tight that Scrooge worried she’d draw blood. “Twenty--no, thirty something years, Uncle Scrooge. I can’t believe you’ve hid this from me since the day you found me half-dead! How--how dare you?” 

Scrooge couldn’t stand the way (Y/n) was looking at him. Her eyes were ablaze, filled with hatred and sorrow he could not place into words. Seeing (Y/n), the girl who wasn’t so little anymore, look at him like that made his battered heart burst into little pieces. “(Y/n), I didn’t mean to--”

“No, I don’t want to hear it! You told me my family was dead! You said that I was the only one who survived that assassination.” (Y/n) stuffed a pair of trousers into her suitcase and zipped it shut. “You lied to me for decades! Why?” Scrooge’s lips withered into a frown. “I was trying to protect you!”

“’Protect me’?” (Y/n) echoed. She heaved her suitcase onto its quad wheels with a scowl. “Oh yes, because the wee little duckling who knows martial arts needs help despite surviving countless near-death experiences, adventures as your side-kick, and defeating archenemies. Yes, yes, I’m powerless, aren’t I?” Scrooge’s brows knitted together. He knew full-well that (Y/n) could take care of herself. She survived being stuck on an island as well, being swallowed by a gold-hunting dragon, and so many other things that could have ended her life for good. 

But this? It wasn’t that Scrooge thought she was weak. No, no. It was only that he knew she couldn’t handle the truth. The Eider family were an absolute nightmare. Besides the fact that they were abusive, they were greedier than the greediest ducks, and more power-hungry than the worst of kings. They believed themselves to be the best of the best (which in itself was not a lie), but because of their arrogance, their enemies spread father than the deepest oceans.

Funnily enough, that was what got (Y/n)’s parents killed.

She was a smart lass, Scrooge gave her that, but the one thing she could never seem to do was let them go. During the years Scrooge hid the true story from her, she never gave up in researching and looking into what happened to her parents. It was as if that were the only reason she existed. 

And now that she knew the truth, Scrooge worried what she’d do when she actually got back in contact with her family. Although it looked like she forgave them for ruining her life, abusing her, and for being absolute blockheads, it was clear as daylight to him that she held a deep grudge against her family. “You’re not going back to them are you?” he quietly inquired. 

(Y/n)’s glare made him feel as though he were the dust on an old book. “Guess again, Scroogey.” His expression hardened and the air thickened like jam. “Lass, you are not going back there.” (Y/n) made her way to the door, a tight frown on her face. “I don’t have to listen to you, liar.” 

Scrooge’s jaw unhinged. “I’m your guardian!” 

“Only because my parents died.” 

His shoulders tensed and he slammed the door shut. “You listen here and you listen well!” He yanked (Y/n) away from the door. “Me lying will never compare to how terrible your family treated you. You want the truth so bad? Well, your rubbish aunt hired a hit man to assassinate your parents! There! That’s the truth! Are you happy now?” (Y/n) slapped Scrooge’s hand off her shoulder, but he didn’t pay any mind. 

The two had a silent stare-off that may have lasted for an hour if it weren’t for the knock on the door. “(Y/n)?” Scrooge eyed the door as (Y/n) made her way towards it. She cracked it open just enough to peek out at the little girl before her. “Sorry Webby, I can’t play right now. I’m a bit...”

“Busy?”

“Yeah.” (Y/n) offered an apologetic smile, to which Webby frowned and twiddled her thumbs to. “Okay then. I’ll be in my room.” She made her way down the hall. “Alone.” (Y/n) frowned. “I’m sorry Webby, promise I’ll make it up to you in two weeks time. How about we get ice cream?” Webby froze, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Promise.” (Y/n) said. Webby smiled. “Okay.” 

Once (Y/n) was sure Webby was gone, she closed the door behind her and turned on Scrooge with a dark glare. “I’m done arguing with you. I’m leaving.” she announced. Scrooge folded his arms across his chest and seized (Y/n) by the collar. “Oh no you don’t!” He reeled her away from the door and kicked her suitcase out of her hands. “You are staying right here.”

“I’m not a kid anymore Uncle Scrooge!”

“You’re fifteen. Still a kid.”

“If you add the years after I was cursed by you--”

“It was an accident!”

“--I’m about thirty-five years old.” (Y/n) finished. Scrooge ruffled her hair with a roll of his eyes and a light-hearted chuckle. “You’ll always be my kid in my eyes. I suggest you reschedule with Webby to tomorrow.” There was a good pause before he added, “You don’t need to see your sad excuse of a family anyway. They’re nothing but trouble.”

Present

“Lauchpad, please try to stay on the road!” exclaimed (Y/n). The large man-child sped through Duckburg as if he were in a NASCAR race. Speed-bumps and pot-holes caused (Y/n) to slam into the door and Scrooge at least fives times in a row, and since he had a long day of meetings, the old man’s patience ran thin. “Eyes on the road McQuack!”

“Sorry Mr. McDee, (N/n).” 

(Y/n) wanted to be nice to Launchpad, but her stomach did flip-flops and her head ached. She should have expected this, because it was always like this, but her being her always held onto the sliver of hope that Launchpad would miraculously learn how to not crash a car. Scrooge took a good look at (Y/n), a short sigh escaping his lips. “Every dent in this car is coming out of your salary!” 

“Absolutely. Hey, hear about that crazy snow storm on the Drake Barrier Reef? I’d hate to fly into that one. You see, I’m a bit of a pilot--”

Without looking up from his newspaper, Scrooge pressed a button on the door. The glass divider slowly rolled up and forced Launchpad to keep his eyes where they should be: on the road. 

(Y/n) lied down on the seat with a sluggish frown. “I’m just gonna...close my eyes.” Either Launchpad forgot how brakes work, or he had zero brain cells left, because he continued charging through the city until he came to the manor’s gates despite Scrooge’s protests. The limo came to a screeching stop. If it weren’t for Scrooge, (Y/n) would have flown into the windscreen. 

“Why aren’t we moving?” demanded Scrooge. (Y/n) harshly swallowed and sat up. The impatient beeping of the limo’s horn didn’t help her spinning head, and neither did Scrooge’s yelling as he hopped out of the car. “Hey!” he shouted. “Jettison that jalopy from my driveway, ya deadbeat!” 

Who was he even talking to?

“Donald Duck.” 

Oh. 

“Uncle Scrooge.”

Oh.

(Y/n) didn’t care to listen to the arguing. All she wanted was a good cup of tea and a bed. 

“Jettison that jalopy from my driveway this instant, ya deadbeat!”

“Oh, here we go again, giving orders like he’s the richest duck in the world!”

“I am the richest duck in the world, now move!”

(Y/n) couldn’t take the arguing anymore. Her head spun, she felt like she’d throw up, and she really craved that cuppa probably waiting for her in the dining room. “Can you both shut up?!” A pair of footsteps made their way towards the open car door. Through the disgustingly bright sunlight, and the splitting headache, (Y/n) made out the angry face of Donald Duck.

“What did you do to her Scrooge?!” he shouted. Scrooge let out a large gasp, a clear sign he was beyond offended. “What did I do to her?! It was Launchpad’s driving!” 

There was some more chatter before three identical children piled in the limo. (Y/n) didn’t care who they were, and it seemed like the feeling with Scrooge was mutual. When the gates opened and they arrived at the front door, Mrs. Beakely scooped (Y/n) in her arms and brought her to her room. “My, my, was it Launchpad’s terrible excuse for driving again?” 

(Y/n) wordlessly nodded as Beakley set her on her bed. She poured a nice warm cup of tea and handed it to the car-sick girl. “I suggest you rest for a little before you get caught up too much excitement again.” Mrs. B. said. 

A little rest, Mrs. B. said. It would be good for you, she said. Only after waking up did (Y/n) realise she had been drugged by the one-and-only housekeeper. It was obvious she knew (Y/n) wouldn’t get a wink of sleep because she had a tendency to lay awake in bed until three in the morning, but in her eyes, that did not justify her actions, especially after all the action she missed out on. 

That morning, she stood in the dining room, PJs on and mouth agape as three identical triplets bombarded her with an arsenal of crazy questions.

"Aren't you Uncle Scrooge's famous sidekick?"

"Isn't your family crazy rich and extremely prestige?"

"How do you still look the same after so many years?"

"Botox?"

"Water from the Fountain of Youth?"

"No, plastic surgery?"

(Y/n) sent Scrooge a silent look for help, to which he shook his head with a warm smile. "Boys, don't be rude." he merrily said. "She's just cursed is all." The blue one's eyes widened, and for a second, (Y/n) thought he had chocked on his scrambled eggs. "You're cursed? How?"

"Uh..."

"Actually, I have a better question, how did you meet Uncle Scrooge?"

(Y/n) swallowed a bite of toast. Her gaze nervously snapped towards the old duck, to which he folded his newspaper shut and said, "Alright, boys. That's enough. I think it's a bit early for all these questions, especially for her. She hates mornings." (Y/n) smiled a little. "Yeah, I do." She returned her focus on the faces of the three kids. Each had large, bright eyes, extremely large smiles, and loud personalities. Which also happened to remind her of...

(Y/n) leaned over to Scrooge's ear and subtly face-palmed. "They're Della's kids, aren't they?"

"You just figured that out now?"

"I was tired, what do you expect?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Besides that, we're going to Atlantis tomorrow." he nonchalantly announced. (Y/n) almost spit out her tea. "Wait, you're serious?"

He nodded, a sparkle (Y/n) hadn't seen in a while shining in his eyes. (Y/n) couldn't help but feel grateful for Scrooge. If he hadn't stopped her from seeking out her family, she'd probably be dead. (Y/n) Eider didn't belong with a bunch of prestigious, scholarly ducks. She was an adventurer, an explorer, who walked through every corner of the Earth.

But most importantly, she was Scrooge McDuck's one and only side-kick.