#five angles on murder

[ddejavvu]

I can’t stop thinking about being a suspect in a case and being interviewed by Hotch 😭 like being so nervous and him taking it as like “??? are you even gonna try hiding it??” and you’re not gonna be honest and be like “i’m not nervous because i’m guilty i’m nervous BC YOURE A HOT OLD MAN” because this is a serious case and serious situation so it’s just Hotch trying to coax it out of you, you being all flustered looking suspicious but actually like needy for this man, and the team who caught on like “oh wait no. shes just attracted to him. why do we have hot people on the team?”

SSA Hotchner's scrutinizing gaze studies your weak posture, your fidgeting fingers, your spotty eye contact, and he muses, "You're not very good at controlling your body language."

"What?" You look at him, eyes wide and round and full of nerves. You've never been questioned before, not even by a low level security officer, much less an FBI Agent. You suppose that's making you nervous, yes, but what's really wringing you out is the fact that the one they sent to your interrogation room is just plain hot.

He's gorgeous, all sharp features that are always angled towards you, and dark eyes you'd expect of a criminal, not its captor. His suit is crisp and his voice is low; he's the pinnacle of professionalism and he's making you squirm with his undivided, discerning attention.

"You're nervous," He accuses, and you let out a soft huff in the back of your throat.

Who wouldn't be?

"You're fidgeting, you can't look me in the eyes, you lean away from me," He lists, leaning forwards in his chair to watch you repel like a magnet, your back pressing into the metal bars behind you as he proves his point.

"I'd think someone with the criminal expertise to commit six murders without witnesses would have a better handle on their outward appearance."

"I'd think so, too," You manage, not without stammering, "Agent- Agent Hotchner, I- I'm not-"

"You're not guilty? You're the closest thing we have to a suspect," He doesn't let your stuttering deter him, leaning ever-closer until you're flattened against the back of your chair and he's still advancing. He rises from his seat, inching closer and closer as he continues, "You miraculously discovered the body at an odd hour of the night when you had no business being at the scene of the crime, you called it in, you told the police you knew nothing, you're telling me you know nothing, but still," He's inches away from you now, and every nerve in your body is aflame with mortification at the very unhelpful fantasies rushing through your head as he pins you to the chair.

"-You insist on your innocence, but I don't think you're innocent at all. I think you're trying to toy with us, but we don't play games, you won't win. Understand?" His dark eyes bore into your own and you're painfully attracted to them, biting the inside of your cheek to stop from begging him to back away before you lose control and surge forward to kiss him. He refuses to blink, but you're doing it enough for the both of you, lashes rapidly fluttering as you try calming your pounding heart. He watches you for one, two, three, four, five seconds, expecting a hurried confession at any moment, but the door clicks open before you can stammer something humiliating.

"Hotch," It's a dark-haired woman, and god, does the FBI recruit people based on attractiveness? She's stunning and she turns her beautiful eyes on you in sympathy, "Back off, Hotch. She's innocent."

He narrows his eyes at her almost imperceptibly, turning away from you, "You found the unsub?"

"No," She admits, "But it's not her. Okay? I just know."

"You just- Agent Prentiss," Agent Hotchner stands straight, "That's not protocol."

"I know," She gushes, but she strides confidently through the room to ease you upright and out of your chair, "Just- let me handle this, okay? Come on, honey, we'll talk somewhere private."

Agent Hotchner lets her take you away, and he must trust her, even if he's watching her with narrowed eyes. Maybe this is some interrogation tactic, maybe the woman leading you by the shoulder through the precinct is the good cop, and he was the bad one.

She leads you past a cluster of people all leaning against desks or hunching over files, and a slim blonde woman shoots you a knowing smile. What she knows, you're not sure, but you wish so badly that it were comforting.

The woman walking with you leads you straight to the front door, taking your purse from where they'd confiscated it earlier and handing it back to you.

"You're free to go," She smiles at you, eyes nothing but kind, "I'll tell him you proved your innocence."

"But- what," Your fingers are almost too limp to keep your bag in their grip, "I don't understand-"

"I do," She grins, "He's handsome, I get it. He tends to forget that."

Your cheeks sear with flames that you wish would turn you to ash right then and there, so that you could be carried away on the breeze and not have to answer for your embarrassing instincts.

"Don't worry about it," She laughs, clearly sympathetic to your panic, "Trust me, you're not the first person that's squirmed in their seat under the intense gaze of Aaron Hotchner. He's a smart man, but never smart enough to figure out when someone likes him. You're free to go, honey," She repeats, reaching out to squeeze your arm, "And if you ever get dragged into an investigation again - which I hope you don't," She grins, "I wish you a very ugly investigator."

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 31. gangbangs

summary: a very self-indulgent chapter/pseudo-oneshot. **naoya’s ex-wife becomes toji’s girl. everybody wants a taste, and why not have the younger cousin watch the show?** alternatively, a gangbang with tattooed dilfs and dilf-adjacents.

chapter tags/warnings: five-some, gangbang, sex on tape, gun play (becoming a gun slut), cum play, breeding, creampies, exhibitionism, edging, degradation, praising, mentions of violence (murder, knives, guns), multiple orgasms.

word count: 5.5k

notes: happy kinktober and thank you for waiting! this started off as a concept (in my mind for a year-plus) and evolved into…a monster. too many men, too many hands, too many cocks. got lost in the sauce. despite being a smut chapter in a long fic, this update is borderline porn-without-plot. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“I love getting gangbanged."

Naoya woke up in a dark room and to a throbbing headache.

Where…?

He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings slowly, blinking past his grogginess to register what almost looked like a crime movie’s interrogation room and groaning when the wrong angle to his head caused a sharp pain in his shoulder.

All around was an ominous and gloomy shade of gray—the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and heck even the door. How long had he been out for? Without windows, he could not take a wild guess at the time. Not to mention that the room also had no lighting, no pictures, and no décor.

Only him and this...random dinky chair he found himself tied up to.

Wait.

Tied up to?

Right. From what Naoya could last recall, he had been stopped by two men who took him out with a single strike.

In a vain attempt to set himself free, Naoya tugged at his limbs which were fastened behind him with sturdy cords. He twisted and turned, then twisted harder and turned even harder, until an unexpected voice startled him.

“You’re awake.”

Naoya went still.

Having zero visual stimuli sharpened Naoya’s other senses a little. He could feel the labored huffs in his breathing, hear the heavy footsteps that began in the chamber, and even taste the smoke that lingered in the hazy air.

Leering towards the door, Naoya quickly recognized his captors as they approached.

"Don’t give us that foul look, sleepyhead," the taller one whom he remembered as Eso announced as he slowly stopped in front of the scowling blonde. He had on him a wide and nefarious grin. "You had passed out for the last few hours. During that time, you could've been beaten. Or better yet, dead." He glanced up. "Right, Kechizu?"

His accomplice, who stopped on the opposite side, replied with a firm nod. From seemingly nowhere, he had pulled out a pocket knife and grazed the icy blade against Naoya's neck. "Ya feel that? I've been wanting to slit your throat, but I haven't. Lucky, lucky duck. Not everyone is this fortunate. All because our big bro Choso is being super nice to you."

Aware that a wrong move would cost him a jugular vein, Naoya listened intently. Since he worked with the other sex therapists before, he indeed recalled how his former colleague led a tightly-knit assassin ring, in which the members deemed each other 'brothers.'

Kechizu prodded Naoya again with his blade. "Big bro's the only reason you're still alive. Although, I don't know why you'd want to still be breathing now that the whole world knows you've been bumping uglies with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Eso hummed in agreement. "Well, at least for now," he began and he gestured around in vague motions, “you're already in paradise!” Then, he paused. “Well, correction. Here is where we send people to paradise. Or, more likely, hell.”

Noticing how Naoya uncharacteristically froze, the two snickered. In fact, they likely would've continued snickering if not for a shrill tone that pierced the air. The laughter stopped.

Eso's charcoal eyes flicked downwards.

"Left pocket, Kechizu."

The other man obeyed, lowering his knife (and thus giving Naoya an actual chance to breathe) before grabbing the phone from Naoya's blazer. A notification lit up the screen—a message, from you.

“She sent a video.”

Eso and Kechizu intentionally held the screen away, and their face quickly lit up with a sinister smile when they previewed the file. “Oh, yeah. Let's watch.”

“Come join us, sweetheart.”

You thought you were discreet.

Lingering at the doorway, you had been peering into the Zenin Corporation’s CEO Suite like a lost duck. This past afternoon, news about the leadership changes within Japan’s largest conglomerate had spread like wildfire across business and politics networks across the globe, announcing that Naoya Zenin had been forced to resign with Toji Fushiguro reclaiming his position as head of the company.

For the latter, you had questions—many questions. However, an inundated Toji was difficult to approach as he spent his entire afternoon in the office with his also-reinstated directors Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. From your observations, the men had been milling around the table, speaking to each other in hushed but decisive voices in conversations that must remind them of their days managing the Zenin Corporation before Naoya’s takeover.

They all appeared ridiculously handsome with their expensive custom-tailored suits that emphasized their muscular physiques and complemented their towering heights. Surrounded by legal documents and business reports, they carried themselves differently, too. More mature, organized, and serious, especially after hectic meetings with the Chairman Naobito Zenin, your COO father, and internal and external stakeholders had left etches on their calculating faces.

Now, however, Toji Fushiguro had caught sight of your quivering form at the entrance, and soon enough, all eyes turned to you. When you didn’t respond to his first invitation, the executive approached you in confident strides.

“Why do you look so shy?”

At the unanticipated attention, you averted your gaze onto the floor and tried to slink away into the hall slowly. “You all seemed occupied, and I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You're not interrupting anything," he clarified. "We have some time now.”

He tugged your wrist softly, which was all that you needed to follow him like a fawn into the room and crumble onto his lap once he sat down. Despite his dress pants, the warmth from his thighs heated your skin, and Toji nuzzled his face into your neck. His gravelly huffs sounded like all the other times you had heard him rasp, moments followed by endless endearment.

"About Naoya," the older man brought up from seemingly nowhere. You tensed at the name while Toji's cordial lips assuaged you. "Choso’s brothers are making sure he’s not going to do anything funny. We can't have him around as we are transitioning the company. As for you...knowing my cousin, he's going to keep claiming you as his property unless you get through his dense head," and his viridescent pupils flicked upward, "and the only way to do that is to show him.”

Although you didn’t know exactly what he meant, Toji hoisted you in one fluid motion onto his desk and sprawled you across the surface. He pushed your thighs apart, prompting sharp breaths that echoed in the room as onlookers raked their eyes down your figure. Some (namely, Sukuna and Geto) peered down shamelessly, while others (just Choso, really) tried to come off as cool and observed quietly. Nonetheless, the message in their perverted gazes was clear: what they wouldn't give to kiss you, bite you, and mark you right then and there.

Just as you shrank a little from the overwhelming attention, Toji reached for your phone and pressed the device firmly into your palm.

“Let’s send him a message.” Toji’s eyes locked onto yours, unflinching and sharp.

You blinked, raising an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Leaning forward, Toji offered a clear view of the ink scrolling down his neck, his exhales warm against the beading cold sweat on your forehead. “Open up the camera. Let's send Naoya Zenin a surprise.” He gently pinched you. "Like I said, that idiot wouldn't understand shit unless you slam the idea into his dumb skull.”

You hesitated, glancing down at the phone in your hand.

“A photo won't be enough, by the way. We need a video. He won't get the fucking idea unless he sees and hears the proof.” When you complied, Toji turned to the colleague closest to him. "Wanna do the honors, Suguru?"

The said man came forward eagerly, the obsidian in his eyes sparkling. "'No' is never my answer to you, sir." Given your compromising position, he had the easy option to tear your lacy panties and stuff himself into your core except he wanted to take his time.

"I heard a lot about you." His compliments were all purrs that sent hot shivers shooting through your veins. "Mind if I take a go at you, too?"

After being passed between his three other colleagues, you must admit that you had at least thought about what sex with Geto was like, too. "Please."

At the permission, the man smiled and bunched your underwear to one side. The cold air hitting your drenched cunt made you shiver, but the collective groan in the room rumbled even louder, a reminder of the many men around you. Men who were being patient for you. Men who could not stop thinking about you. Men who, because of your ex-husband, had been holding grudges against you.

Geto pulled down his boxers just until the waistband fitted snugly under his balls. His cock stood proud with precum dribbling down his length as he positioned himself in the comfy spot between your thighs. He pressed against the table until his knuckles turned white, aligning himself with your entrance.

Without extra stimulation, your saturated folds welcomed him easily and you gasped loudly at the intrusion.

"Shit, you’re soaking," Geto sighed softly as you clenched around him, swarming his veins with gratification. He tipped his head forward, his loose strands framing his face. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He was so sweet, so kind. You nodded and hazily recognized that this was what making love was supposed to feel like: tender, gentle, and loving. This was Suguru Geto's charm.

Before you could say more, an opportunistic Sukuna took his place above you. He moved quickly, undoing his belt and tugging hastily at his trousers, humming loudly with relief when he pulled his pants down and his massive cock sprang free. Despite being jostled by another man, you swabbed at the bubbling precum before pushing your thumb into your mouth, relishing his clean and salty tinge on your tongue.

Amused, Sukuna chuckled darkly. "What a fucking tease," he crowed, then patting your cheek. "C'mon. Open up, baby. Let me get to the back of your throat."

With little resistance, he popped your jaw open and sank his massive girth into your mouth. Gradually, you bobbed your head back and forth, letting your tongue lick every millimeter to him. He, likewise, pushed his hips forward, bringing your nose flushed against his well-trimmed patch of pink hair. He plucked the recording phone from your hands, and you sensed him tapping on the screen to focus on the erotic display where your bodies connected, your sinful lips accepting his fat cock with ease.

"You are such a good girl." Sukuna Ryomen confirmed, his movements mind-numbing as though he wanted to breed your esophagus. He wrapped a hand around your windpipe, constricting your airflow and causing you to gag. "Brat looks like a goddamn goddess sucking dick. Isn't that right, Choso?"

No response.

Curious, your pupils rolled to the side.

The assassin's the man you feared the most.

He was quiet, always guarded, his mysterious eyes pulling you in like two black holes. You could never know what he’s thinking about, although you lucidly remember his crooked obsession with 'disciplining' you.

"Hey, honey.” Geto's deft fingers suddenly gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to return to him. “Pay attention to us, m'kay?"

You hummed in response, Sukuna’s dick still bulging visibly in your throat.

"I don’t want you to lose focus," an overly aroused Suguru went on to explain. He breathed heavily. Shaking. Or maybe that was you? He clutched your love handles harshly before he pulled out and stepped to the side, making you stroke himself with your delicate hands instead. Briefly, you assumed that Geto preferred handjobs and wanted to ejaculate onto your breasts, only to get your answer when your puffy clit came into contact with the sharp coolness from…metal?

"Choso," Toji's harsh voice warned.

Brought back to your senses, you looked down to see Choso using the fluids to lubricate...his gun. You recognized the weapon, the same one you had seen in his car. The same one he would use to kill. All air in your lungs left swiftly. What the actual fuck. Sheer mortification was the only reason you didn't have the guts to do anything (because, if Choso became irritated enough, he could pull the trigger and then you would have no guts at all), and your silence only gave him a reason to continue defiling you into his personal gun slut.

He stared at his boss with an unperturbed frown. "You know I like her too much to hurt her."

A squeal tumbled past your lips when the pistol's freezing barrel pressed past your tight hole. Although you partially expected Toji to warn the weapon-wielding man again, Toji instead leaned forward in his chair, jaw resting on his fist. He could seem more concerned, but the mirthful glimmer in his emerald eyes said otherwise.

Meanwhile, Choso's piercing gaze alone made you sweaty, your forehead turned glossy with a sheen. He lazily massaged your inner walls, your warm arousal coating his cool metal before leaking onto the table, the only struggle now was how your body involuntarily twitched. To your fascination (and horror), pleasure began to build with each too-hard pass of his barrel. There were just too many sensations going on. Messy mouth deepthroating one cock, slicked hands stroking another, and sloppy cunt taking in a gun. You did your best to give everybody equal attention because you were a desperate crowd-pleaser, not wanting anyone to feel left out.

With your back arched from the table, you became increasingly frantic, demonstrating through feverish movements that all you were was their obedient little bitch. All these hands on your body, skin on your skin. You felt them all, the senses exhilarating and fascinating.

Toji sternly interrupted from seemingly nowhere. “I can tell from your movements that you want to cum, don’t you?” Maybe, but you were too overwhelmed to focus solely on your pleasure. Nothing that your therapists couldn't help with. Leaning over, Toji snaked an arm around your body to press tight circles at your engorged clit. "Be selfish for a little bit," he coaxed. "Cum for us."

His permission sent you immediately vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as an orgasm tore through you. Your lips parted, but you didn't scream. Your eyes shut slowly and rolled to the back of your head as every millimeter in your fragile body unraveled completely—fluttering, cramping, and shuddering.

Your ears became blessed with chorused laughter and praise.

Choso inspected your copious juices that suddenly coated his gun, a translucent thread trailing from the barrel to your now-exposed cunt. Reaching over, Sukuna wrapped his hand around Choso's forearm. He leaned into the pistol and parted his lips, swirling his tongue slowly around the barrel. His maroon eyes were half-lidded, giving him an almost lazy yet focused look as he dragged his tongue along the metal, lapping up your precious essences—the syrups rich and just a bit tangy. Drooling and sucking like a little kid with a lollipop, Sukuna didn't care that his spit trailed from the metal down to the other man's wrist and flipped the camera to selfie mode to capture the action.

Towards the end, his tongue swiped over his lips, leaving a luster from your elixir that coated his mouth. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

After another generous lick, he swished the concoction in his mouth before pinching your chin, and your mouth propped open. Pleased, he hummed when you stuck your tongue out, showcasing just how naughty you were. He drooled the spittle into your mouth, the saline taste blossoming on your taste buds, a thread of spit connecting your chin and his.

"Sharing," Sukuna chuckled darkly into your phone's microphone, "is absolutely fucking caring."

Nearby, Suguru groaned. He hurriedly clambered to the comfy space between your plush thighs, shoving a grumbling Choso aside. "I'm so fucking close."

He buried his dick into your tunnel, the veins on his cock pulsating. Call him selfish or masochistic, but as much as he wanted to reach his high, Geto denied his orgasm to stay longer inside and prevented himself from fucking bursting.

“Don't hold back, Suguru,” you urged.

Geto furrowed his brows, sweat gathering on his forehead as he tried his best to hold out. He admitted earnestly, "I don't want to give you up, baby.”

“I want you to cum,” you said, all whiny with puppy eyes. Free hand slithering down, you cupped his aching balls and gently squeezed his heavy testes. "Besides,” you glanced over at the camera, “show Naoya how you can breed me…daddy."

Sugaru’s eyes widened at the unexpected nickname that he loved so much. That’s it. He’s done for. His handsome features crumpled from an over-the-top pleasure as he gave his snapping hips one final push and pumped you full, coating your cervix white with his thick essence as he rested his head against your forehed, panting into your ear and moaning into your skin.

Pressing one last kiss on your cheekbone, he pulled himself out of your hot cunt, allowing others to have their way with you.

Sukuna got behind you eagerly. He repositioned your shaking body, his calloused hands tossing you over and leaving you panting on your hands and knees. His harsh squeeze at your sides made you squeal just as he pulled your legs apart for easier access, exposing your cute hole.

"Shit, she's making a mess, dripping onto the desk." The same desk that belonged to Naoya merely several hours ago. Adjusting your phone camera, Sukuna thumbed through your folds like they were pages in a book, scoffing at the viscous dallops that slid out. The tattoos on his wrists gleamed pitch black under the glossy mixed juices.

"Suguru's cock did you well, but this pretty lady isn't finished yet, eh? She can take more. I know she can." His hands weaved into your hair and tugged harshly. "Tell us, missy. You can handle more, correct?"

The threat in his menacing tone only suggested there was one answer. You whimpered pathetically, "Yes."

With a crooked smile, Sukuna pressed his muscular form against your back. That man was starving. After all, he had been waiting to have your pussy properly wrapped around his painful erection when he could've greedily taken you for himself first.

"Stop moving so I can angle myself correctly," Sukuna reprimanded when you wobbled on all fours.

Hardly any time was given to let you register the warning before the man plunged into your sensitive socket. He ignored your desperate wail, amazed at how he plugged you all the way. His pace started off sensual and languid. Each snug press against your battered cervix at first made you squeak, but you became too far caught up in the moment that the discomfort disappeared as promptly as the sensation came.

"Mhm," Sukuna hummed, a squelch ringing through the room each time he would bottom out. He didn't need to say anything for him to feel how wet you were, fluids trickling out from your puffy hole and creating what looked like the Nile River running down your thighs.

"Holy fuck," Choso swore to the side, his emotions a rare display.

Blissful waves rushed to your head, one after another. Arousal flooded into your tummy, your cunt twitching uncontrollably as a second climax started to sneak up on you.

Sukuna groaned—or at least attempted to groan—through the exertion of his forceful movements. How he had missed playing with you. A few trickles of sweat on his forehead glided over the ink on his forehead before dripping onto your back. He pumped himself faster, his balls smacking against your clit harder—savoring how you squirmed underneath his direct influence.

He could not resist peering down at the sacred space where your bodies connected and ensured that the camera, too, had an unobscured view. The problem was he had become so agonizingly turned on that his hold on your phone began shaking. He rasped, back straightening. “Goddamn, your cunny does me good.”

Not long after, he reached his release snarling and grunting like a dog as white ropes shot from his cock and into your uterus, with him nearly dropping your device onto your ass from his sheer ecstasy.

"No!" you protested loudly when Sukuna pulled out abruptly, hissing as your empty hole clenched around nothing. "I..." You balled your fists, thumping the desk in frustration. "I was so fucking close."

"Don't worry." The strawberry-haired man tenderly brushed away the tears by your jaw. Like he hoped to comfort you somehow. "Nothing Choso can't help with. He'll take great care of you." He looked over at the said colleague. “Isn’t that right?”

Gulping, you followed his gaze to the other man who had stopped behind you.

"You look nervous," Choso commented matter-of-factly. "Why?"

As if he didn’t already know the answer. You rolled your eyes and snorted like a true brat, indeed. "None of your business."

Besides, you had enough encounters with Choso Kamo, each incident more indecent than the last. This time, he naturally noticed your eyes drift to the gun tucked into his back pocket, the saps from earlier creating an ample moist patch on his pants.

“So, tell me, bimbo," Choso spoke again. He didn't care to announce himself as he unbuckled and pressed in, stretching you with his thickness, aided by your copious reserve containing both arousal and cum, hitting that sweet spot that he had no problem finding over and over. "Did you think I had been done with you already?"

Holding in whimpers from his repeated thrusts, you let out a soft groan.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes."

“But, do you want me?”

Silence.

“I am not going to repeat my—”

"I want you s’ badly..."

A demon must have possessed you. There was no other way to explain yourself. But those remarks were all Choso needed before he began to move impossibly fast within you. He didn’t care that he pounded into you like a beast, creating a commotion that perhaps the floor below could hear your wetness reverberate around the room.

"This is for being a fucking tease." Choso raised his hand high and then delivered an unforgiving blow against your ass. Unprepared, you yelped from the sheer force, which had been enough to leave a handprint on your unblemished cheeks.

"I didn't—!" Your attempt to defend proved futile as Choso spanked you again with little regard for your feelings.

"This is for giving me an attitude," he continued, gruff. And again. "For forgetting how to behave, shit." And again, and again, and again. For this, for that, his listed grievances going on and on and on, his punishments making you cry and squirm and wail.

Choso knew he was selfish. If his boss Toji wasn't involved, he would want nothing more than to keep you forever, making you his little gun slut and teaching you to cum all over him. He couldn’t help it. As if the roles were reversed. Like he was the inexperienced one, unaware of his partner's feelings and only caring for his pleasure. He remained relentless as he continued his abuse, the tendons along his hands and arms flexing with his efforts, like the crazed killer he was being out for blood.

The distressed expression written all over your face only made him want to go harder. He loved making it hurt, his sadistic personality entirely to blame. With every pump, his testes smacked onto your clit repeatedly, feeling him sink deeper and deeper inside.

“F-Fuck—S’ too much, Choso!” A sob wracked your trembling figure amidst his assault. In distress, you tugged at his wrists to get him to ease up on you. That didn't matter. He was too strong, especially when compared to you.

"I thought you wanted to cum."

"I do!" But you didn't think you would be able to cum like this. "This...This is too painful!"

As if he cared.

"Oh, please," Choso scoffed, even rolling his inky eyes in dismissal. "This isn't painful. You're just being dramatic. If you think this is painful...how do you think I felt, hm? Watching Geto and Sukuna take turns defiling you. Hearing you blubber their names without shame. Did you think that I—with my cock stiff in my pants—that I didn't feel pain? Listen to yourself. God, turns out you're just another selfish slut."

Scorching tears streamed down your face, and you searched around desperately.

"No one here's going to save you," Choso announced, reading right through you. He pressed his face against your earlobe, a hot puff of air fanning out across your delicate skin. "Because it's too obvious. You fucking like this, pup."

Did you?

Even if that wasn't the case, you guess you did now, the unwavering conviction in Choso's tone spurring a change of heart. It’s sick, you realized, he’s manipulating me.

Yet, sure enough, you soon started to feel lighter, giddier. Your pupils dilated from stimulation and your muscles tingled with excitement. Choso felt so good. You felt so good, and the coil from deep within your cervix compressed tighter and tighter as a pressure built from within.

"I'm close...again." This time, it's a little embarrassing to admit, especially when you were complaining like a puppy just minutes ago.

"What did I tell you, pet," Choso growled, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a rare grin. He made you feel glorious. Consequently, you writhed underneath his body, fully submissive under his control. You wanted nothing more than to be a pliant baby girl for him, let him use you in any way he wants. "Cum and squeeze my cock."

“Make me.”

“Oh?”

One final blow to your ass was what hurled your body over the edge.

“I—” you choked on your spit. "I'm coming!"

You shrieked the moment you felt your body disintegrate, your shoulder blades caving in as sweat fell like raindrops from your skin. Elbows giving up, your head hit the table, leaving your temples pulsing with dizziness, bliss, and pain; your eyes staring at the wood finishing; your chest rising up and down, exasperated from the intensity of your release.

And oh, your pussy squeezed Choso good. Before he could hold himself back, Choso dug his nails into your ass. "Fuck, you are incredible," was the last thing he muttered before he came as well in one long grunt, splattering your womb with his creamy semen. He made you tremble when he pulled out, releasing the mess inside and leaving you feeling oddly empty and cold. Glob after glob of cum oozed out, semen from multiple perpetrators painting over your labia, which made the surrounding men grin at the sight, knowing that you held all their seed inside.

Nothing except their breeding hole, that was what you had become. There was something they adored about labeling you as their personal whore.

Not long afterward, a warm hand took yours into his own. Toji caressed the skin of your palm before pulling you right onto his lap again. In the end, he was whom you belonged to. If anybody wanted to do anything to you, they had to talk to him first.

Toji helped you straddle him, tucking one leg onto his either side, except you were so fucked out that you didn’t know who you were or where you were from.

"C'mon, honey. Don't lose yourself just yet," he murmured gently, brushing a few free strands from your forehead. Otherwise, you would've gone limp and lost all senses completely.

Toji had been waiting for you. He considered this a sign of his maturity, allowing the younger and more impatient men to make a mess with you first. Now, though, was his turn, fair and square.

His exposed length pressed up against his abdomen with fantastic girth and length such that—despite your current state—your pupils went heart-eyed and your mouth drooled from sight alone. He loved when you made that expression, one he had seen countless times in his dreams; a guilty pleasure in reality. He chortled at your sharp gasps, finding you adorable even after being stuffed by several men.

However, just when you didn't think you could handle more, his red-flushed head brushed over your clit and jolted your veins with the familiar wave of arousal. You shifted, the sticky mess between your legs uncomfortable. In a brief moment of lucidity, you had an epiphany. With one hand resting on Toji's shoulder, you reached down with the other to spread your folds, biting your lip as you clamped down on your sensitive walls hard.

Sure enough, a generous amount of cum trickled out of your used cunt, oozing onto Toji’s cockhead and sliding down gradually to his balls.

"Holy shit."

Eyes grew wide with surprise, jaws dropped in reaction to your nasty actions. Since when did you learn to become so dirty? Flushed cheeks betrayed their interest as they continued their lustful staring. Generous was what you were, letting them ogle like schoolchildren for a few moments longer before you scooped up the slick and began to suck on your fingers. Softly, you hummed at the succulent flavors concocted by you, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso combined.

"Next up is you."

“So fuckin’ filthy," Toji praised with utter adoration.

As you continued, you made sure not to break eye contact as you subtly rutted your sopping cunt against his tip. You coyly batted your long lashes in his direction, making sure he could feel the liquids running down his cock and the throbbing pussy that awaited him.

You smiled. "All yours, Dr. Fushiguro."

He suddenly grew smitten at how polite you could be, and using his hands as a guide, he helped you sink into him slowly. “Goddamn.” The sound that emerged from him was wholly obscene, a carnal desperation only matched by your movements, your thighs constricting his hips and your eyes rolling backward. How cozy, you discovered yourself to be, snug at his hilt. Toji had filled you all the way but a few centimeters of his cock remain, his tip already kissing against your spent uterus.

Something about knowing that his little cousin would watch this made Toji want to do everything to push deeper into you. He started by rocking your waist against a rhythm, and a near-pornographic mewl escaped your lips when his shaft ran over an especially sensitive spot, the ridges rubbing against your cavern and sending pleasure through your every limb. He hummed at the way you squealed and loved how expressive you were with your body and feelings.

His tongue laved across your shoulder before stopping over your collarbone. "You'll still go back to Naoya after this?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled with sincerity. "I would hate myself if I did."

“Excellent,” he slurred, his spit drooling down your back from where his mouth had latched onto your neck. “That’s…exactly what I wanted to hear, baby.”

Baby. Your eyes squeezed shut, responding with a whine. Although the overstimulation was originally uncomfortable, you began to feel satisfaction cut through the soreness once again as your body prepared for one more climax. You rocked your hips in need, like an animal in heat, a sight that would certainly drive your ex-husband crazy. “F-Feels,” you paused to pant, “Feels good.”

“Fuck.” Toji gritted out, breaking through his cacophony of crude moaning and effectively searing your skin. He continued steering your body in the rhythm he learned you liked, his nails nearly piercing your skin despite their bluntness. He cupped your jaw harshly. “What are you to us, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” You laughed a little, clearly delirious, and then replied. “'M your cumdump.”

“Say that again.”

“I—”

“Louder.” The emeralds in his heavy-lidded eyes skated briefly to the phone. “I want everyone to hear.”

So, you mustered all your energy to give your final answer—and the correct answer. "I am your cum dumpster!"

Toji started saying something, chuckling maybe, but his words weren’t clear even as he tossed his head back. His breathing was deep, wet, and sexy, and he was no doubt blistering hot in his business blazer, his slicked-back hair soaked with sweat and hanging limply in front of his flushed face. His expression, on the other hand, was what got you the most; his eyes drawn shut, his brows slightly pinched, his mouth just barely parted.

He panted, raising his head to lock lips with yours, moaning into your mouth lewdly before pulling back, and admiring your fucked out expression, face heated and sweating.

“Shit, you’re too good to me,” was the last thing Toji sighed before he added to your womb with his hot cum, his grip on your body tightening as his balls twitched and lodged his precious seed into the sacred cavern. Pussy clamping down, you milked him, not willing to let a single drop go to waste, gasping when the explosive warmth made you shatter with him, leaving you hiccuping and spasming until you were just jolting and crying out from the stretched muscles in your body.

Overheated, you slumped forward. Sweat rolled uncomfortably down your back, spit smeared across your neck and shoulders and chin.

But you looked up and giggled at your latest discovery.

“I love getting gangbanged."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: I spent way more time preparing this chapter than I expected, writing, rewriting, and editing. Adding, shortening, then adding again. (At some point, this was nearly 7K words.) This is far from perfect, but I must relinquish myself. Thank you again for reading!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[totally-here]

Post Gotham war Jason and post GIW Danny scrap

Jason is laying on the ground. He can hear water running to his right and can see his parachute tangled in trees overhead. 

The explosion must have sent him farther away than he hoped. His back hurts from the landing after he disconnected from the parachute. His hands are still shaking from residual adrenaline that in turn makes his throat constrict in fear. 

Fucking Bruce. Of all the things he could’ve done to break their cycle. 

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A never ending cycle of them fighting over morality, making up, then fighting again without any real progress being made. The Joker’s still kicking in one way or another, and Jason still doesn’t talk with his family much outside of vigilante activities. 

And now he won’t even be able to go out as Red Hood, because his own fucking adrenaline will immobilise him with fear. 

Jason never should have tried to work with Selina. He’s self-aware enough to admit that. It was stupid, trying to mess up her operation from the inside after realizing just what she was setting up the goon workforce for, even if it wasn’t her intention. She was only letting him work with her to shove it into Bruce’s face, anyway. 

Because that’s all Jason will ever be to them. Batman’s biggest mistake. A Robin turned corpse turned mass murderer. Like he hasn’t been actively not killing people for at least a year now. Hasn’t shot a gun in months. 

And yet here Jason is, trying to tell if his ribs are broken without moving. His ears are ringing faintly from the collision with the meteor and then the explosion at the observatory. 

He ditched his comm to Oracle and the rest of the bats earlier, and the batwing is one with the wreckage now. But there are cameras everywhere in Gotham. They would see he got out, and probably send someone to pick him up. Maybe. 

Jason doesn’t know if he can stomach looking at his family right now. Not when he can still feel the effects of whatever Bruce stuck in him in the back of his throat, in the back of his mind. It’s like he’s been flayed out, all his scars and weaknesses on display. 

“Hey man, you okay?” A man steps into Jason’s vision. Around his age, if not younger. His eyes that verge on the edge of uncannily blue have deep eye bags, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. He looks at Jason like one would a particularly uninteresting bug. Jason shivers.

It takes a few tries for Jason not to swallow his words. As it is, he still slurs on the swear. “Just fucking peachy.” 

The guy raises an eyebrow, looking very doubtful. He looks Jason up and down, then sighs. He rights himself from leaning over and runs a hand through his long black hair with white streaks in it. It’s choppily cut, and not in a tasteful way. It’s like a five year old found scissors for the first time. It’s annoying how it actually works for the guy. 

“I have a first aid kit in my truck, wait here,” He orders, then walks off to the left. Jason turns his head to watch him. There is a small white truck parked to the side of a road that no cars are passing through. The guy opens the back door and digs around, then emerges with a white box. 

He kneels on the grass next to Jason and slowly reaches out to help him sit up, narrating as he does. “I’m gonna lean you against the tree so that I can get a better angle for your forehead.” He does that, and Jason realizes that yeah, his forehead is bleeding. Maybe he snagged it on a branch on the way down, or maybe it was debris. “I’m going to disinfect it, brace for the sting, I guess.” 

It does sting, but Jason doesn’t flinch away. It’s not the exhaustion from the back to back panic attacks that’s calming him. He knows what that exhaustion should feel like, this is not it. As the guy gently washes off the blood from Jason’s forehead with wipes and presses bandaids onto it, he feels like he’s being enveloped in a warm hug. 

“Why do I feel safe with you?” It stumbles out before he can stop it. The guy doesn’t stop inspecting Jason’s arms for cuts to answer. Only when he finds traces of burns to wrap against infection does he say anything. Jason’s too warm for a November night. 

“Well. There are two options. Either you’re concussed, or you’ve died before.” Jason takes in a sharp breath, but the guy doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh, three, I guess. Since it could be both.”

“I don’t feel concussed," Jason says. And he doesn’t. Maybe slightly dehydrated, but his head doesn’t hurt and he’s not nauseous at all. The slight slurring is just because he’s tired, probably. 

The guy hums, leaning back to check his handiwork. There’s bandaids on Jason’s forehead and bandages along his arms. He closes the first-aid kit with a snap and stands to his full height. His face is haloed by the full moon behind him. His eyes reflect in the light. “Guess it’s option two, then. I was leaning towards that, anyway. Once Deads tend to have that effect on me, and you do give off Realms Touched vibes.”

The guy offers a hand, and Jason stares at it for a moment before taking it. It’s like touching an ice cube. “I don’t know what that means.”

The guy pulls him up easily, despite being built like a broad-shouldered twig and at least five inches shorter than Jason. Probably a meta, then. Or maybe magic. The guy lets go of Jason’s hand to run a hand through his hair again. The motion brings attention to the layer of scar tissue around his left eye. Likely scarred over in the past month or so. 

“Yeah, my bad. Should’ve assumed. Um, short version: I have what amounts to a biological need to help peop-” He stops, purses his lips, then starts again. “To help the undead. And that stretches over to you, I guess.”

“And the Realms Touched thing?”

He shrugs, not looking at Jason’s eyes, but up at his hair. At the white streak sticking out against the black. “Let me guess, you had an encounter with some green not-quite-liquid stuff sometime after you died?” Jason nods once, slowly. “Yeah, that’d do it. The green stuff’s from the Infinite Realms, and doing stuff with it kinda marks you for people with an eye for it.”

“People like you?” Jason narrows his eyes, but it really does seem like this guy is telling the truth. That this is just some weird coincidence that the spooky guy (who cannot be local. Jason might have ditched the mask, vest, and gloves, but he still has his padded shirt with his symbol on it. No true Gothamite would dare to approach the Red Hood with medical supplies) just happened to stumble upon Jason. The complete blasé attitude he has toward the pits helps. A League devotee would be more reverent. 

The guy tilts his head to the side, his face scrunching. “Technically, yeah. I meant more, like, formal magic users. I’m… different?”

“What are you, then?” 

“It’s complicated?” As Jason’s unimpressed look, he tries again. “I’m, I’m kinda like a protector spirit and a psychopomp rolled into one? But, a psychopomp that’s not good at their job.”

Jason gets the feeling that that’s the best explanation he’s going to get out of this guy. He’s already shifting away, looking past the trees and at what’s probably Gotham proper.

“So I have a sense for dead things. ‘S actually why I ended up coming through here. Something that felt like a meal was coming here, but now it’s faded.” He points past Jason, and he follows his finger, moving to face the green smoke rising from the observatory, glowing in the night sky. “You know what happened?”

“Big fuckin’ meteor,” Jason mutters. The smoke is dispersing slowly but surely. A news helicopter is already buzzing around the observatory site. 

“Sure, why not?” The guy mutters back. His eyes flick to Jason before jutting a thumb backwards. “Welp, I’m gonna get back on the road. You need me to call someone for you or something?”

Jason thinks about it. He could call someone to pick him up, or check in with Rose. But. That would mean eventually going back into Gotham. Back into the fire. Back into a city that’s being overrun with thieves he had helped support. It’s not shame that stops him, but fear. 

Fear that if he goes back, it will just start the cycle again. That it��ll just take another form, but he’s just going to be stuck fighting. He’s always fighting, has always been fighting. If he goes back and he starts fighting again, it will never stop. Fear lodges into the back of his throat once again and Jason realizes that he might not be able to fight like that anymore. 

And standing outside of Gotham, seeing the smoke coming out of it color the same as the Pits that still haunt him, Jason thinks that maybe fear and fighting are all he has left. 

He wonders what would happen if he let himself lose those, too. 

“Actually, which way are you going?” Jason asks the guy, who squints at him.

“North.” 

“Sounds good.” Jason spins around and walks determinedly towards the guy’s truck. The guy stutters and hurries to catch up to him.

“Wait, what? You’re just gonna… come with me? Are you sure you’re not concussed?” He says, but stops at the driver’s side door and just watches as Jason slides into the passenger seat. 

Jason smiles at him, all teeth. “Come on, Charon. Aren’t psychopomps supposed to lead the dead to their next destination?”

The guy just looks at him for a moment, then opens the driver’s side and slides in. He glares at Jason, but it doesn’t feel like there’s any real dissatisfaction behind it. “You’re not dead now, and I told you I’m bad at my job.”

Jason shrugs and swings his feet onto the dashboard, ignoring the guy’s disgruntled and insulted look. “Then you’ll get some on the job training.”

“I’m on the run from the government. This isn’t going to be a fun adventure, dude.” 

That does make Jason pause. But he also knows the government. “What’d you do?”

He scoffs. “Exist. Fuckers think they’re entitled to my organs. For science, they said.”

A victim, it sounds like. Hell, maybe even a clone. Not likely to be a criminal. Jason shrugs and shimmies more into the seat, making a show of getting more comfortable. The guy frowns, then closes his door. 

“You know what? Fine, guess I’m doing this now. But we gotta set some ground rules for this roadtrip, okay?” He points at Jason with his left hand, leaning over a little in what could have been intimidating if he didn’t look dead on his feet. Jason recognised the faint lichtenberg scarring on his finger. Recently electrocuted, and badly. “First, get your dirty ass boots off of the dash.” Jason obliges. “Thank you. Second, seatbelts stay on. I know how I drive, and it is not good.”

He emphasizes his point by buckling himself in and glaring at Jason until he does the same. 

“Third, um, I don’t have a third one.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Oh, tell me a name I can call you. Yeah, that’s the third.”

“Jason. What’s yours?” He should have hesitated. All bat protocol for getting into unmasked situations with a stranger determines giving a fake name, and to not even think about anything close to real. But he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. This guy clearly doesn’t know who Red Hood is, if he doesn’t recognise the symbol, so Jason doubts he’d recognise the first name of Bruce Wayne’s dead son, and then connect the dots. 

“Danny.” Danny starts the truck and pulls back onto the empty road. It must be two or three in the morning at this point. Maybe later. “Hope you have an enhanced ID, ‘cause we’re going to Canada.”

Jason, in fact, does. Not one that has his name on it, and it’s for New York, but the picture looks similar enough.

~~

So the original idea for this was they head to a cabin aunt alicia has in canada, but I got like 2000 words into this then realized i didn't have the motivation to continue, plus i wasn't confident about the characterization (i'll admit i read the gotham war event in a vacuum) so i just scrapped it. But!! I figure i would post it here in case someone else wants to take the idea and run with it :P

[rmbunnie]

It's most likely just Starlin trying to get to Jason dying faster because he did not like Robin, but the whole "Jason's spiraling because of his grief for his parents" thing they were trying to spin was honestly really weird, not supported by the rest of the run INCLUDING the parts Starlin wrote, and kinda reads like an unreliable narrator situation because all of the information supporting it is given through Bruce's narration, him speculating on Jason's thoughts and actions.

The plot thread of Jason's grief for his family affecting his behavior shows up like TWO issues after Jason first becomes Robin back when Collins was writing, and gets sorted out after one conversation where Jason gets to confront Bruce about hiding his father's death from him for 6 months. After that Jason is behaving normally until they encounter three predators in a row, and each time Bruce insists that they can't do anything because of The Rules and assorted red tape/diplomatic immunity plotlines. (The sister of a woman who got dismembered actually tricked the violent-misogynist killer who dismembered her sister (and then got his serial killings dismissed through a technicality) into attacking her, and ends up killing him in self-defense, and then Jason's like "seems fair" and Bruce is like "no. it's NOT. we need to follow laws and not take justice into our own hands. which like wtf Bruce! you are a vigilante who just used a custom tank to fight an evil televangelist! who then got ripped to shreds by his followers while you watched!)

Bruce kinda just decides with Alfred that it must be grief upsetting him and not the dozens of brutally killed women and their predatory killers who the law inexplicably protected, (all written by Starlin, so retconning it for DitF like five issues later would be an odd move) but the only text claiming that's why Jason was upset is from Bruce's POV and through Alfred's dialogue. Jason himself doesn't display any signs of grief in the story itself, or even act or speak in a way that alludes to Catherine and Willis beyond looking at a picture of them and smiling fondly while he sorts through their possessions. He kinda just happens upon the box with his mother's info by chance, and is like ok i guess we're doing mom searches now. He was only going for a walk through his old neighborhood, not actively searching out info on his family. When Jason is deciding whether or not to run off without telling Bruce, he considers telling him and then goes "no, all he cares about is being Batman, he wouldn't even understand why I want to see my mom." Which, I mean, "Bruce wouldn't get it" is a REALLY odd angle if the sole motivator for spiraling, then getting benched* and running away to search out his bio-mom, was because he was mourning his dead parents, a thing he notably has in common with Bruce. That statement only really makes sense if he's thinking about a different thing that was greatly upsetting to him that Bruce brushed past, like maybe a combo of hiding the murder of his dad for half a year and allowing several cases involving sexual violence to freely develop body counts in the name of the law.

Lots of people have written about how Jason's stay in the manor might have seemed dependent on being Robin with how he was kinda just scooped up, but (if we're including Detective Comics in our characterization,) Bruce had offered to let him resign from Robin and just live with him (a little late, but still. It's worth noting Batman proper shows Jason afraid and uncomfortable at the thought of Dick taking Robin back, which lends more merit to the housing-dependent-on-Robin-misunderstanding interpretation, but canon is pick and choose anyways.) The lack of trust involved in his choice to search out his mom kinda reads like it was bred by more than that alone, and Bruce's prioritization of the law over the protection of the people it ignores is notably upsetting to him in the prior issues. tbh I really do believe the outcomes of those cases could have informed Jason's stance that Bruce's method of justice is ineffective right alongside his own murder and his experiences in Lost Days.

It would make sense for Bruce to not consider his own actions while he's thinking through things that would upset Jason, because from his point of view the things there that were bothering Jason were the criminals alone, not the way that the methods with which they were approaching their crimes continually led to the perpetrators evading actual justice. During the point in DitF where he's thinking through motivations for Jason's running away because something isn't adding up for HIM, the idea doesn't so much as cross his mind. It would also add another layer to Jason's sulkiness upon Bruce's arrival if he held the belief that Bruce is ignoring the consequences his brand of justice has on victims (and the way it's affecting him to helplessly watch it play out), starts to hope that Bruce actually can understand his thought processes/relate to him when he shows up, only to be told to his face that Bruce is prioritizing his style of justice over Jason again. With the way everything that led Jason to his bio-mom was comically circumstantial and the context of the previous issues, it's kind of the ONLY way Death in the Family makes sense to me. Tldr: I feel like the grief claimed as reasoning for Jason's actions leading up to his death is mainly speculation from Bruce and Alfred and the more textually-supported reason for his erratic behavior and lack of trust in Bruce is the lack of intervention in several sensitive cases that led them to worsen unobstructed and eventually permitted them to escalate into casualties in 2 out of 3 cases.

*Also, side note, but the idea that Jason got benched for the Filipe situation, while perfectly reasonable, is not quite spot on. The Filipe situation escalated into the fight in the junkyard where his dad is crushed by a car and Bruce is all "everything you do has consequences" which is kinda big words for a guy whose lack of action indirectly lead to a girls death earlier in the storyline, but true. Jason actally gets benched because he jumps directly into gunfire while fighting the third set of predators and Bruce starts to worry he's getting a little suicidal with it. He baits a guy into shooting at him on purpose again trying to protect mom prospect number 1 later on in DitF, so Bruce might have had a point with that one.

[jyoongim]

BLOOD & BLISS

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

Chapter four chapter six

Chapter Five

—————————————————————————————————

Something smelled.

Every time you entered the kitchen, a putrid scent would assault your nose.

You didnt know where the smell was coming from, but you were determined to find it.

You had cleaned every inch of the kitchen, thinking it was some old food you had failed to dispose of.

But it still lingered.

You followed your nose, trying to locate the smell.

It led you to the cellar.

Did some animal get in and die from the heat? You mentally groaned at the thought at having to find some decomposed vermin and having to clean it up.

You held your reflex to gag as you descended the stairs. God it was rancid.

You didnt even bother to turn on the light as you traveled down to investigate. You looked around and from what you could see nothing was out of the ordinary.

But there was trash bags stuffed in a corner.

Alastor usually did well in making sure the trash didnt overflow, but you guess he had forgot.

Mustve been the deer you thought as you grabbed the bags and tried to move them.

But one bag was all too heavy for you to carry.

You huffed and grabbed at it again, thinking that carrying it at a different angle would help, but the contents of the bag shifted and must have not been sealed properly as something spilled out.

Cold, slimy liquid splashed your bare feet and you cringed.

This was definitely what was causing the smell.

Your stomach did flips as the smell assaulted your senses.

You figured you needed the light and made your way to find the switch.

Now seeing your surroundings clearly, you turned to see where you left the bag and froze.

Red. 

That’s what your eyes registered first. 

Thick red liquid was leaking out of the bag and when you approached further to the dumped contents your blood ran cold.

Was that a hand?

You felt bile rush into your throat.

There must be some mistake…what was a…a body doing in your cellar?

You shook your head and waddled back up the stairs.

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You were frazzled.

You poured yourself a glass of water. Maybe there was an explanation for this. There had to be right?

You took a deep breath. There was a body in your cellar. There was a dead person in your cellar. Could you even consider them a person? The state they were in…

Your eyes drifted to the pot on the stove. You approached the pot and opened it. The beef stew Alastor made. You sniffed it.

It smelled normal.

You picked up a piece of meat and examined it.

It didnt look like any meat you knew.

Your stomach curled as realization dawned on you.

Your husband had fed you human meat…

Your head was in the trash can before you knew it. Throwing up the water you had just sipped.

NO NO NO. NO NONO NO NO

You made your way to your pager, the line beeped and the deep brawl of your husband answered “Honey! Is everything ok? Im kind of busy”

You were panting, shock settling in you “I-I just wanted to know if you could come home straight from work today?”

The man chuckled “Of course dear. Why don’t you rest a bit you sound rattled” you bid him goodbye and sat on the couch.

Theres no way this was happening…

——————————————————————————————

Alastor quirked a brow when you didn’t come to greet him home.

The house was dimly lite except for the kitchen.

He smiled and found you sitting at the table, rubbing your swollen belly.

”You’re not indulging in a late night drink are you my dear?” He nodded towards the bottle of whiskey and glass in front of you.

You jumped slightly, having not heard him come home.

You quickly gathered yourself and have a shaky smile “of c-course not. I thought after a long week you would like to whine down”

He let out a low hum and made himself a glass.

Alastor noticed how you seemed…nervous.

You didn’t met his gaze and fidgeted in your seat.

”What’s troubling you cherie?” He asked downing the drink.

You wanted to blurt out and question him about the thing in your cellar, but you didnt know how he would react.

You had to wait for the right moment.

So you shook your head with a smile “Baby been giving me trouble that’s all. Didn’t realize how much I missed doing simple things without being out of breathe”

He laughed and leaned to place a kiss on your temple, a large hand over your very big bump. “You should take it easy. I told you you ain’t have to do anything. Just sit pretty and grow our child”

Your heart buzzed. 

There was no way your husband, your Alastor was a killer.

Maybe the hormones was making you delirious.

Maybe it really WAS just a deer carcass.

But you were certain you saw right…

”Did you clean today? You know chemicals aren’t good for you to be around. You shouldn’t be putting unnecessary stress on yourself darlin”

You pouted, wrinkling your nose “Something was rotten. You know how I feel about my kitchen Al.”

If you didnt know your husband, you wouldnt have noticed when he tensed up, but as quickly as it happened, it passed.

”Rotten?” He asked, face frowning.

You nodded “I threw out the strew, I think it went bad”

Alastor’s fingers drummed on your stomach and then he shrugged.

”guess Ill have to do better next time” he pulled you up and lead you unstairs to rest for the night.

”Guess Ill have to do better next time” what did that mean?

You had got dressed for bed and settled beside Alastor who pulled you to snuggle into his side.

You let out a yawn, eyes getting heavy “Al?”

He hummed in acknowledgment as he looked over some scripts.

“You would tell me if something was troubling you right?”

He glanced down to see you looking at him.

”Of course dear why?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes 

“Nothing just wondering”

Your soft snores filled the room and Alastor let out a sigh as he set down the papers.

He slipped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

He looked around. While he had made sure to thoroughly clean up his mess, your cleaning was another level.

He sniffed and nothing but chemicals greeted his senses.

Something was rotten

Could you have…

He made his way down into the cellar. Flicking the light on, his eyes scanned the room.

The black trash bags were still in place.

His eyes narrowed noticing the red liquid coming from th bag.

Oh that just wont do.

He hauled the bag over his shoulder and went into the backyard.

Alastor wouldnt let his clean reality be faltered by his sinful deeds.

After all…

you didn’t need to know your husband dirty little secret….

—————————————————————————————————

Hi Jyoongim here !

I am at the point of the story where everything is now about to shit and dont know how long this story will be. Im thinking at least five more chapters (They will be long) but who knows. Blood and Bliss WILL have a second series, but until then…i would like to address something…. The next few chapters will have heavy themes. As a black writer i feel it is important that I show the history of my people and what African Americans had to deal with in the early centuries in the South United States. With that being said; be mindful and open-minded about the themes that will appear in the next few chapters Thank you

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@th3-st4r-gur1 @yourdoorisunlocked @popamolly @doggone-devil @rulesareshadesofgrey @zombiesnips-blog @boney-horse @ilikemyteawithmilk @alastor-simp @alastorsgirl48 @alastors666creampie @alastwhore666 @alastorssimp @alastorsaries @al1fers-haven @dasimp777 @thewinchestah @certifiedcrybabyyy @markster666 @okay-babe @catherine1206 @angelicorpses @hazelfoureyes @yunimimii @smoky000 @siiv3r @southern-bayou-beau @luzzbuzz @karolinda007-blog @catmunist @ivebeenthearchersstuff @evedenn @luluxx118 @vexendoe @preciousbabypeter @justtnat @willowshadenox @celestial-vomit @over-the-little-blue-house @impulsivethoughtsat2am @purplecatsandhearts @strawberrypimp666 @peachedtvs @peachedtv @altruisticalastor @chanty-loves-turtles @cxrsedwxrlds @nightshadelm @theangeliclibrarian @voxsmalewife

[fear-is-truth]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 — kai anderson

kinktober day three (bonus !) — aphrodisiacs . . . tags ; mature content﹒mdni﹒fem!reader﹒p in v

the second you step through the door, kai is all over you—body heat radiating off him in waves, his face flushed, like he’d just finished a brutal workout. strands of blue hair escaped his man bun, sticking to his forehead. you barely have time to say hello before his arms are wrapped around you.

“kai? what the hell?” your voice is muffled as kai pulled you into his chest, arms locked around your shoulders. he mumbles something incoherent, you can feel his chest rise and fall rapidly against your back, and the unmistakable hardness pressing against your ass.

“kai… please tell me you did not eat the chocolates,” you look at him through the reflection of the hall mirror. his eyes harden into a defensive glare.

“why the fuck would you leave food on the counter if you didn’t want anyone eating it?” your hand fly to your mouth, half in shock and half trying to stifle a laugh.

“… those chocolates weren’t just regular chocolates, kai. they were… y’know, special.”

“special.” he repeats in a deadpan tone. you nod, biting your lip.

“yeah… aphrodisiac special.”

“…shit.”

“you didn’t see the ‘do not eat’ i wrote on the box?” this earns you a murderous glare.

“of course i fucking did. i thought it was winter’s and didn’t think it applied to me.”

your big bad cult leader boyfriend sounds almost whiny, which makes the situation even more comical. “fuck, i can’t think straight. it’s your fault, and you’re gonna fix it.”

•••

approximately five minutes later, the both of you are “fixing” the situation.

kai is stretching your pussy to its maximum capacity as he fucks roughly you from behind. you clench around him involuntarily, your insides so sensitive and tender that you can feel every ridge and vein pulsing against your walls as you struggle to take all of him.

“tch, thought you could get away with that little joke of yours?”

a broken whimper escapes you when he leans back onto his heels, the new angle allowing the head of his cock to prod at your sweet spot.

“yeah, don’t think so.”

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 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

[annievrse]

robbers

chuuya x pm!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic w/c: 0.9k c/w: chuuya calls reader 'doll', guns & murder (ur literally a sniper) a/n: this was gonna be a lot more angsty, but I wanted some cutesy gross relationship shit, so here u go, my babies. enjoy!!

Zooming in your scope, your eye is trained on a familiar redhead. You watch as he tries to talk his way out of an infiltration mission that had gone awry 10 minutes earlier, and with you as the Port Mafia's sniper, it's your job to ensure Chuuya gets out of there unharmed.

The earpiece lodged in your ear fizzles a string of words you can barely focus on, but you press it and talk anyway.

"Yes, Aktuagawa is on the roof," you mumble, lifting your head to confirm the questions streaming through your ear. Squinting into the setting sun, you see the younger boy walking along the edge of the building, hoping to get a better angle to attack. "Will take my shot. Over."

As you try to get comfortable, the leather of your vest and pants drag along the concrete roof you lay on. Steadying your breath, you aim for the head of the mastermind behind the organisation that had been killing ability-users for sport.

Now, you hold your breath and squeeze the trigger. There's no sound, but your hurried exhales, and you begin packing your gear instantly. There's no need to look to confirm your kill.

"—inside is clear—"

"—building empty, return to headquarters—"

The silence is deafening. The subtle ringing in your ear punctuates as such. A sudden crackle through your earpiece startles you as you descend the 38 flights of stairs to the street.

"You could've aimed a little more to the right. I got rat blood on me."

You shake your head. "Be grateful you're alive."

Chuuya scoffs, and you imagine him rolling his eyes. "He was an easy target; I would've easily taken him out."

"Just meet me downstairs, please," you sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. The stairwell is humid, and you're starting to sweat under all the leather you sport.

"Yes, ma'am."

You twist the device from your ear and shove it in your pocket.

Emerging from the building, you're hit with a gust of cool night air, the feeling both relieving and chilling. You squint into the darkness. The door behind you slams, and you jump, tripping over your foot and falling to the ground. You put your hand out to stop yourself and brace for the impact.

Except you don't make it to the dirt and are, instead, held mid-air by a familiar force. You roll your eyes when the commander of said force appears before you in the shape of a five-foot-something redhead.

"Careful, doll, don't need you breaking your trigger finger."

You give Chuuya a deadpan look, still surrounded by a red aura. He stalks toward you, the hem of his coat flapping in the wind. You look at him through your lashes and wish he'd let you fall—he gazes at you so intently that if he weren't Chuuya, you'd have punched him by now.

You feel yourself move upwards and stumble once you're on your feet again. Chuuya walks ahead, but his hand hovers behind him slightly.

"Well..." you say, grasping his fingers. You walk toward the PM car, which is parked in the distance.

Chuuya gives you a side look. "Well, what?"

"Well," you say. "Make yourself useful and kiss me."

Chuuya's eyebrows fly up and he stops. "Useful? I just saved your ass from—"

You drop your bag and cover his cheek, smiling as your lips meet his. It's messy, and you swear you felt his teeth nip your bottom lip by accident, but it's nice. Chuuya's fingers tickle the sides of your neck, and he mumbles something incoherent.

You pull back an inch and peck his lips once more when he chases after you. "What?"

Chuuya sighs and leans his forehead against your shoulder, his hands moving to your waist. "Thanks for getting me outta there."

You laugh softly, burying your hands in his hair, moving his hat onto your head so it doesn't fall on the ground. He doesn't thank people often; he doesn't need to with his hatred of initially putting himself in that position and his constant obligation to save everyone.

You don't need his thanks; you never have, but you just kiss his cheek and reassure him. "Always."

Chuuya turns his head, and you feel him press delicate kisses on your neck. He trails his lips to your earlobe before laughing lowly in your ear, squeezing your sides.

You put your hands on his cheeks and pull him out of your neck. His face is squished between your palms, and you stop yourself from kissing him silly. Chuuya wraps his hands around your wrists, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your pulse points. His blue eyes stare into yours, and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle.

“You can stop staring now,” Chuuya mumbles, his cheeks blooming red. He'd blame it on the breeze if you tease him about it.

You shake your head, smiling bashfully. “No, you look pretty."

"Oh, please," Chuuya scoffs, eyes sweeping the building behind you. The subordinates deemed the perimeter clear before, but Chuuya scowls at the place anyway. "Let's go."

Sighing, you pluck his hat off your head and put it back on his. "Lead the way, pretty boy."

Chuuya begrudgingly fixes his hat and swings your bag onto his shoulder. "Only if you stop calling me that."

You tsk, wrapping your arms around his middle. "Can't deny what's true."

Grumbling, Chuuya throws his arm over your shoulder and draws you into his side. "Whatever."

[multi-fandom-imagine]

•EVEN MORE THE BLUE EYE SAMURAI INCORRECT QUOTES•

Reader: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch.

Taigen: Some times I whine like a big Bitch!

Ringo: Do you think when Butterflies are in love that they feel human's in their stomach?

Reader: Ringo! What the fuck!

Reader: • • •_-• - / ... - •_• •_• -.-

Mizu: What is that

Reader: Remorse Code.

Mizu: I am even angery now.

Reader: Hey Mizu, what are you eating?

Mizu: A family sized bag of sweets.

Reader...that's not family sized....that's regular sized....

Mizu:Everything is family sized when you dont have a family.

Reader: *whispering* Mizu...nOo

Reader: *Laying in bed* Do you think birds get sad for not having arms?

Mizu: Well do you get sad for not having wings?

Reader: *Choke up* Every single day.

Taigen: If I say I love you will you say it back?

Reader: Yes

Taigen: I love you

Reader: It back

*Five Minutes later*

Mizu: Why is Taigen sobbing face down on the floor?

Reader: I wish I could block people in real life.

Akemi: Restraining order

Mizu: Murder

Reader: What are you five?

Taigen: Yea! Five head's taller than you.

Reader:

Taigen:

Reader:

Taigen:....Please don't kill me.

Mizu: Are you high?

Reader: Am I what?

Mizu: High?

Reader: Hello.

Taigen: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Reader: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

Mizu: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Reader: It was me...

Mizu: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Reader: Why are you on the floor?

Mizu: I’m depressed.

Mizu: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ringo, please

Taigen: I guess I’m just a bad person.

Reader: Nah, you’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favourite person. But sometimes you can be a real cunt

Reader: Hey Mizu?

Mizu, internally: There they are. My favorite person in the world, the love of my life. Fuck I just want to stare at them and hold them and kiss them for the rest of my life—

Mizu: What the FUCK do you want?

Akemi staring at Reader: “You look like an angel.”

Reader who wasn’t paying attention: “What?”

Akemi: “I said you look ugly at every angle.”

Mizu *screeching*: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!

Reader: wh-

Mizu: YOU’RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!

Reader:why are you screaming??

Mizu: BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO YELL SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGRESSIVE TONE!

Reader: I-

Mizu: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

Ringo: Wow, it’s a barren featureless wasteland out there isn’t it?

Reader: … Ringo, try turning the map around.

Reader: You’re mad at me.

Mizu: I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.

Reader: Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse

Mizu: Don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

Reader: The power to believe in myself?

Mizu: No, a Sword.

Mizu: Stab them.

Reader: Don’t kill me, I have a wife

Assassin: I don’t care about that

Reader: That wasn’t a plea for mercy, that was a warning

Mizu kicking the door down: You called, love?

Reader: Here you are, Mizu. Nice hot cup of tea.

Mizu: …It’s cold.

Reader: Nice cup of tea.

Mizu: It’s horrible.

Reader: Cup of tea.

Mizu: I’m not even sure it is tea.

Reader: Cup.

Reader: You need to react when people cry.

Mizu: I did, I rolled my eyes.

Reader: Gotta love knitting needles, I can make a scarf, I can make a hat, I can stab someones eyes out, I can make mittens.

Akemi: What was that middle part?

Reader: I can make a hat?

Mizu: How much sleep did you get?

Reader: Eight.

Mizu: Hours?

Reader: Minutes. God! Taigen, would you shut the fuck up?

Taigen*Fixing his hair*: What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything!

Taigen: how come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?

Reader what do you mean?

Taigen: you just seem nicer than usual

Mizu: They can punch you in the face if you want.

Fowler: I could kill you if I wanted.

Reader: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Akemi: Did you really have to stab him?

Reader: You weren't there, you didn't hear what he said to me.

Akemi: And what did he say?

Reader: "What are you gonna do? Stab me?"

Mizu, nodding: That's fair.

Akemi: NO!

Reader: *Screams*

Taigen: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Ringo: Should we do something?

Mizu: No, I want to see who wins.

Ringo:Let's speak about our talents.

Ringo:...I'll start, I like to cook.

Akemi: I'm good at languages.

Reader: I'm good instruments.

Mizu: I'm good at killing people.

Reader: *Does something stupid*

Mizu: What an absolute fucking idiot.

Mizu: I can't believe I would die for them.

[wwooyology]

The Murder House | Epilogue

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 | 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

「synopsis」 : it's been a few weeks since you managed to escape from the murder house, but it's not quite over yet. your brother's trial was right around the corner and everything is brought back to the table. after he's found guilty and sent to prison you are determined to find out some answers, though you aren't sure if you'll like what he has to say....

「word count」 : 6.2k

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, petnames (my love, love...), kissing, court trial, sister complex, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), obsessive behavior, threats, mentions of death, gaslighting, lmk if I missed anything!

It had been raining all morning long, the rain softly falling onto the ground, decorating the windows with small spatters. Leaving the air with that fresh rain smell. It was something that you normally loved, but now? Now, all the rain did was remind you of those you have lost. Reminding you of all of the pain and suffering that they had to endure. Reminding you that your brother indeed killed them and that this wasn’t some sick nightmare. Reminding you that this is very real and this is now your reality.

Yet you couldn’t help but stand by the window in your now bare apartment, watching as the rain poured heavily outside. Soaking anything it could touch. The sound of the raindrops hitting your window and roof was almost hypnotizing.

The once steaming mug of coffee in your hand was now room temperature, as it had been long since forgotten. Your eyes fixed on nothing in particular besides the falling water droplets, watching as they crashed onto the surface of the window pane.

You weren’t sure how long you had been staring out the window, maybe five minutes, an hour, a few hours. Your sense of time had vanished, far too lost in your own mind to really know nor care. At least not right now.

“Hey, do you have everything together?” Jay’s sudden voice in the quiet space nearly caused your heart to lurch into your throat, the coffee mug almost slipping from your fingers as you looked over at him with wide eyes. Your heart races underneath your rib cage, almost loud enough to deafen you for a few moments. Noticing your distress, Jay stops in his tracks, an apologetic look painting his features, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” You whispered softly, setting down the cold coffee on one of the few tables that didn’t have anything sitting on top of its surface. Your eyes then travel around the empty living room, looking at all of your boxed-up belongings, the furniture holding these boxes. It felt… strange.

You had so many plans for this place, all the game nights you and the boys would do or the parties you would throw for one of their birthdays. All of those plans were left to dogs now. The only thing this place harbors now is guilt and longing.

Guilty that you couldn’t save them. Guilty that you didn’t catch onto your brother or Jake’s strange behavior before it got too late. Guilty that you got to live while they were buried six feet in the ground. 

“Hey, I see that look,” Jay’s voice pulled you out of your head once more, causing you to look up at him as he walked over, “stop blaming yourself, y/n; none of this is your fault.” His voice was soft, his hand moving to cup your cheeks softly.

“But-”

He didn’t even let you get another word out as he pressed his lips against yours, silencing any other protest that was to fall from them. His fingertips press against your jaw to angle your head a little bit better.

After a few moments, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “There is no ‘buts’ y/n. None of this is your fault, and I know the guys would agree with me.”

Curing your lips inward, you nod softly, prompting Jay to move back to grab your abandoned coffee cup. Your eyes glance around the room once again, a pain twisting in your heart.

“This feels so… wrong.” Your voice was low, not really speaking to anyone in particular, more so just voicing your thoughts. Jay dumps the coffee out in the sink before raising it out and setting it to the side.

Walking back into the living room, he finds you looking at a photograph, your eyes glassy as if you were about to cry. Walking over, he wraps his arm around your smaller frame, looking down at the photo as well. 

It was one from when all of you went camping a while back, sitting around the fire. You had managed to ask another camper if they would be kind enough to snap a few photos for you, and the nice lady was more than happy to oblige.

Your thumb brushes over your brother, who is sitting on the far side next to Sunoo, a huge smile adorning his features. It left you wondering where things had gone wrong or if it was just an act from the beginning.

“Riki’s trial is in three days,” You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized that you had been holding, “this will be the first time I’ve seen him since the house…” Tears involuntarily filled your eyes, and your heart felt as if it was ripping more and more as thoughts of seeing your baby brother up on that stand. 

“I’ll be right there with you every step of the way, my love.” Jay pressed a kiss to the side of your head, his hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly. 

Licking your lips, you inhaled deeply before setting the picture back into the box you had pulled it out of. Closing it once more, you then swallowed thickly, turning towards Jay, who was still looking at you.

“How’s Jungwon?” You asked, resulting in Jay letting out a soft sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“He’s still not awake, but he’s healing great, so the doctors think he’ll wake up soon,” Jay explained, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Jungwon had fallen into a coma shortly after getting to the hospital. The doctors had told the two of you that they should be happy that it was just a coma because, after all of the trauma that his body and mind had endured, they were surprised that he even survived the surgery.

You release your hair from the claw clip that was holding it up, running your fingers through the locks before clipping it up once more. Looking over at the window you saw that the rain had stopped, the sun peeking through the clouds.

“When is the moving truck supposed to be here?” You asked, looking back over at Jay, who had just pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“They said within the next few minutes, let’s start moving the smaller stuff down.” He relayed the information that he had been given before pocketing his phone to look up at you.

You nodded your head before grabbing a box and following Jay down to the bottom floor of the apartment complex.

~

After all of the boxes were piled into the moving truck, you moved away, allowing Jay to pull the shutter door close. You turn back to the building once more, looking up only to catch a glimpse of Heeseung’s apartment window.

Tears pooled along your waterline as you saw the small stickers that were still on the window pane. The very stickers that you had put on there yourself as a joke because you said his living room needed more color. 

You had fully expected him to go and scrape them off the moment that you had left the apartment, but they were there the next time you came over and the next, and the next, until you realized that he had no plans of removing them.

Jay thanked the truck drivers and promised to meet them at the new apartment before turning to tell you that everything was ready to go. However, he stopped short when he noticed the tears that slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Walking over with quick steps, he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his chest as sobs tore through your throat. Jay bit his tongue as he listened to your cries, knowing that your tears were soaking his shirt. He wanted nothing more than to help make you feel better, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. 

It was never going to be easy. You both had witnessed your friends dying in front of you in the most traumatic way possible. That doesn't just go away, not that was something that is bound to haunt your sleepless nights for years to come. No amount of therapy was going to make that better, maybe help manage it, but that doesn't make it easy.

It wouldn't bring your friends back.

“I miss them so much, Jay.” You cried out as your fingers balled the fabric of his shirt into the palm of your hands.

Jay’s arms tighten around your body as he inhales deeply, trying his best to keep his own tears at bay. Then, leaning down to press his lips against the crown of your head, his eyes closed.

“I know. I miss them too.” He whispered against your hair, his eyebrows furrowed as the faces of your lost friends flashed across his mind.

After a few long moments, your tears finally ran dry once more, leaving your eyes stinging and cheeks flushed red. Pulling away from Jay’s body, you reached up to wipe the leftover tears that stuck to your cheeks and eyelashes. 

Letting out a shaky breath, you looked up at Jay, who was looking at you with such a soft and pitiful look that it only made the urge to cry again ten times stronger. However, you refused to cry anymore, so swallowing down the tears, you opened your mouth, your bottom lip trembling as you spoke.

“I just wanna know why, Jay.” You spoke slowly, scared that if you spoke any louder that the tears would start running again. “I need to know why so they can rest peacefully. I need to know the reason he did it.”

Jay nodded his head, agreeing with you as he trailed his hands from your arms to your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. Bringing your hand up to his lips he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles.

“We’ll get our answers soon; we just have to wait a little bit longer.” He promised, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he dropped your interlocked hands to his side. It was then that he started to feel the first few drops of rain on his face. Looking up, he saw that the sky had grown cloudy once more, meaning that it was going to start storming again. “Let’s get out of here before it starts pouring.”

He tugged on your hand, pulling you towards his car and opening the door for you. Climbing inside you snap the seatbelt over your body before watching as Jay rushed around the car to jump into the driver's seat.

The rain started to pour as soon as he shut his door, obscuring your view outside of any window around you.

Jay then started the car before pulling out of the parking lot, making your journey to the new apartment one filled with soft music and loving touches to help keep your mind from wandering too far.

This was your new life. You didn’t like it, but you didn’t have much of a choice. However, you were thankful to have Jay by your side through everything.

When the day for the trial came around your nerves were standing on end. However, you didn’t know the impact that seeing your brother walk into the room in cuffs, a dark and cold look adorning his face, would have on you.

Your mind went reeling when he took the witness stand, and his eyes found yours easily. A small, barely noticeable smirk pulled on the corner of his lips. The small action causes the room to erupt in a flurry of hushed whispers.

Jay squeezed your hand as your leg started to bounce slightly. The feeling of eyes on you only added to your anxiety, knowing that they were talking about you. Whether it was good or bad things, you weren’t sure, nor did you really want to know.

“Silence in the courtroom.” The judge took their spot, and the trial had started. 

You intertwined your finger in your lap as you tried your best to watch and listen as they questioned Riki. 

His expressions shake you to your core. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but this courtroom. Looked so unbothered with everything and most of all. He looked like a completely different person.

There was no way that the man sitting on the witness stand right now was the very man that you called your brother.

Biting your lip, you continued to watch as they pulled up the evidence and further questioned Riki, but he barely said a word to anyone. His eyes only flickering to them as they asked a question that he deemed stupid, other than that his eyes were on you. Leaving you sitting uncomfortably in your seat, trying everything in your absolute power to not meet his burning gaze.

Then, there was a question asked that made your breath hitch in your throat, and your hands started to shake tremendously. 

“Did you or did you not kill Lee Heeseung, Kim Sunoo, Park Sunghoon, and Sim Jaeyun?” She asked as she walked in front of the jury stand, looking over at Riki, who had torn his gaze away from you to look at her with a blank expression.

Riki’s lawyer sat off to the side quietly, believing that he had talked to Riki well enough for him to keep his mouth shut; however, as soon as the boy opened his mouth, he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“I did.” He shrugged, expression completely unbothered, “and I’d do it again.”

His words result in a few gasps around the room, as well as hushed whispers once more. Your ears start to ring, drawing out the noise around you as your eyes focus on Riki and Riki alone. He tilts his head in mock surprise when he realizes that everyone is looking at him like he is insane.

Riki then looks back over at you, meeting your gaze with a very sinister gleam in his eyes. Then he lets out a smile that matches that same gleam, causing your heart to lurch into your throat. Suddenly, everything in the room started to feel overwhelming, and it felt as if you were going to pass out if you stayed in the room any longer.

So you leave, jumping out of your seat, resulting in a few turned heads as you rush out of the room. Not sparing a glance at anyone as you tear the door open and run out, your heart beating viciously under your ribcage, and heat rushes up your neck, painting your face a deep shade of red.

Jay watches as you rush out of the room, contemplating on going after you. However, he didn’t want to miss Riki’s sentencing for you either. The detective that was sitting in front of you and Jay noticed Jay’s hesitation and turned to look at him.

“Go after her. I’ll come and let the two of you know the sentencing afterward.” He reassured the younger boy, who just looked at him with thankful eyes before standing to his feet.

He moved towards the courtroom doors, but he caught Riki’s gaze moments before reaching for the door handle. The look was one of pure, unfiltered hatred as he glared at the silver-haired male.

A chill ran down Jay’s spine as he turned away and walked out of the room to go and find you. He tried his best to ignore that glare that painted Riki’s features, one that told Jay that if he was given the chance, he would finish what he had started in the house months ago. That gaze, though, was now burned into his brain.

~

It felt like an eternity before the courtroom doors opened, and the detective walked out, looking around the hallway before seeing you and Jay sitting on a bench not too far away. Jay looks up to meet the detective's eyes, his hand still resting on the small of your back. Your head stayed down, face buried in the palm of your hands.

The detective walks over to the two of you, stopping just a few feet away, not wanting to invade any kind of personal space. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he contemplated how to relay the information he had just gained from the previous room.

He then cleared his throat, causing you to glance up at him with tear streaks running down your flushed cheeks. It was a look that he had seen multiple times before in his life, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for you.

“Your brother pleaded guilty,” He relayed that information, and an audible gasp fell from your lips, fresh tears building in your eyes, “he was sentenced to life with no chance of parole or bail.”

A choked sob broke through your lips, your fingers tightening on Jay’s sweater sleeve as you took in the information that was just given to you. You knew this was coming. Knew that the chances of him getting life in prison were high, but you couldn’t help but still feel guilty.

Maybe if you had paid just a little bit more attention to him and his behaviors then maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe if you were able to catch on to the way he and Jake had been acting, then maybe you could have stopped it before it went too far.

You hadn’t even realized that you were picking at the skin around your nails until Jay reached over and grabbed your hand, stopping the assault on your fingers. Looking over at him with teary eyes, he just offered a small, sad smile before looking back at the detective.

Inhaling deeply, you also moved your gaze to look at the detective as well, “When will I be able to see him?”

“They are probably going to have him held until all of the paperwork is done,” He started, and you listened; your bottom lips got trapped between your teeth, “once the paperwork is done, they’ll transfer him to the prison facility, and you should be able to see him shortly after that.”

Nodding softly, you wiped the tears off of your face and sniffed, “Thank you, Detective Choi.”

“No problem, kid,” He then pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen before looking back at the two of you once more, “I have to go, but take care of yourselves.” Then, without another word, he walked away, leaving both you and Jay to sit in silence.

Jay squeezed your hand, which was still connected to his, gaining your attention once more. " Did you want to go and visit Jungwon before visiting hours ended?”

Your eyes flickered over to the digital clock that hung on the wall across the hall, seeing that you only had a few hours before they ended. It had been a few weeks since you’d seen the boy. Maybe you were too scared to see his almost lifeless form. Or maybe you were just scared that it would be the last time that you saw him.

“He’s okay, y/n; you don’t have to worry so much.” Jay’s voice was soothing, pulling you out of your head once again. 

Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head, wiping more of the tears from your face. There would be a time when you would have to go and see him, and what better time than now?

“Yeah, let’s go see him.” Your voice was shaky and unsure, but you stood to your feet, pulling Jay up with you regardless. Then, the two of you made your way out of the courthouse and back to Jay’s car.

Walking into the hospital to check in you both were left feeling a little uneasy when the nurse smiled a little too brightly when you told her who you were visiting. She had told the two of you that you could just head on up to Jungwon’s room.

“I wonder what all of that was about…” You spoke out loud as you walked next to Jay, your pinky linked to his. Jay hummed softly, telling you that he wasn’t too sure either, before stopping in front of Jungwon’s hospital room door.

Jay tried his best to keep the smile that was threatening to spread on his lips as he released your hand to place it on your back, urging you to open the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over at him, confused by his actions.

“Why are you acting so weird?” You squinted at him, but your hand wrapped around the door knob nonetheless.

Pushing the door open, you walked into the room, hesitantly scared to see Jungwon lying on that bed, unresponsive. However, walking into the room you were met with a sight that you never prepared yourself for.

Your eyes blew wide open when they landed on Jungwon. There he was, sitting up in the bed, a pudding cup in one hand while a white plastic spoon hung from his lips. The sound of the door opening caught his attention, causing him to look over at you, and as soon as his eyes met yours, a wide smile broke out on his face, his dimples on show.

“Oh, my god.” Tears pooled in your eyes once again, your head swiveling around to look at Jay, who just gave you a smile similar to Jungwon’s. Turning back to Jungwon, your feet move before your mind can register it.

Walking over, you reach out to the boy, who sets his pudding cup down to encase your body in a hug as you practically fall into his arms. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held his body close to yours, thanking anything and everything that he was okay and that he was awake. Pulling away, you grabbed his face in your hands, squeezing his cheeks slightly as you checked him over for injuries despite being in a coma in the hospital for the last month.

“When?” Your voice cracked as you released his face, looking over your shoulder at Jay, who had just walked into the room. He walked over to join you and Jungwon, sitting in the chair that was next to the bed, his hand resting on your thigh.

“This morning.” Jay chuckled as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise for after the trial.” Jungwon cut in, causing your head to snap over in his direction. 

You were happy, beyond happy, that he was okay, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that they had kept it from you until now. However, you weren’t going to let it weigh down on you for long. You wanted to spend time with your friend now that you knew for sure that he was okay.

“How much longer are they going to keep you here?” You asked as you made yourself comfortable on the end of Jungwon’s bed, giving him enough space to be comfortable. Fingers playing with the fabric of the blanket that was folded by his feet.

“They said they wanted to keep me for a few more days for observation, seeing that the knife wound is pretty much healed,” Jungwon explained as he grabbed his pudding cup once more, scooping a good amount on his spoon before sticking it in his mouth. “Also, how did the trial go?”

You inhaled sharply at the question, reliving the events and emotions all over again, but you knew that he deserved to know everything just as much as you or Jay. So you shift in your spot a bit before explaining everything that had happened in the courtroom.

Jungwon then sat there in silence for a few moments, taking in all of the information as he ate the pudding slowly. He then looked back at you, tilting his head slightly and pulling the spoon from his mouth.

“Are you going to go see him?” He asked, almost unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

Your tongue jutted out to wet your lips before nodding slightly, “Yeah, I… we need the answers.” You explained, causing Jungwon to nod. He knew you were right, that you all had questions that you wanted, no needed answers to.

“Just be careful; he could try playing his mind games again.” He looked at you with a worried gaze, worried that your brother could sway you into believing that what he did was right. You just gave him a small smile and patted his leg that was closest to you, reassuring him that you would be. He swallowed down the last of the pudding before setting the empty cup to the side and letting his hands fall into his lap, “well, now you guys have to catch me up on your lives.”

And that’s how the three of you started to talk about your lives after getting out of that haunting house.

After about two and a half weeks, they finally gave you the clearance to see your brother at the prison he had been transferred to. So now you and Jay sat in his car in the parking lot as you tried to gather all of your bearings to face your brother once more. Jay had his hand on your thigh right above your knee, his thumb rubbing your skin soothingly.

“Don’t stress too much, love; he won’t be able to do anything to you.” Jay’s voice was soft, and you nodded slowly, “Plus, I’ll be right outside, waiting for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You whispered before looking down at the time, seeing that it was almost time to go. So, taking a deep breath, you gather yourself before getting out of the vehicle with Jay and making your way toward the prison doors.

After getting through security, you found yourself sitting in front of the glass divider, waiting for them to bring your brother in. Your leg was bouncing against the palm of your hand, the clapping sound being the only thing heard besides the faint ticking of the clock on the wall behind you.

The loud buzzer nearly made you fall out of your seat, your head snapping up to watch as the door opened. Your ears rang as Riki walked through the doors, his hands cuffed in front of him. His eyes found yours almost far too easy as he took his seat in front of you.

The officer had said a few words, but they weren’t heard over the ringing in your ears. He then walked back out the door he had come in from, leaving both you and Riki to sit in silence.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m surprised you even came.” His voice held a teasing tone, almost as if he were mocking you, “figured you’d be too scared to see me.” Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your heart dropping as soon as you did.

It was then that you realized that the man sitting in front of you was no longer your brother but rather just someone who had done a horrible thing. A thing that you wanted to get answers to.

“Why did you do it, Riki?” Your voice shook as you shifted in your seat, standing a little bit straighter, deciding that showing any kind of fear would only hinder your ability to get those answers you were seeking.

Riki’s head tilted slightly, a smirk tugging on his lips, “Why wouldn't I do it?”

Irritation started to bubble in your chest, the fear and anxiety you once felt now vanishing.

“Now is not the time to play coy, Riki. Why did you do it?” Your voice came out more stable, causing the male to straighten his head, his eyes narrowed into slits realizing that he no longer had you scared.

“You wanna know why I did it?” His voice turned dark, sending a chill down your spine, “Well, sis… you better listen closely.” There was an underlying tone in his voice that left you feeling uneasy, but you were going to stand strong. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, huh? Remember that promise you made me whenever we finally got out of Mom and Dad’s house?”

You did. You remembered that promise like it was the very day you had made it. That day was rainy. Both of you were soaked head to toe as you sat inside your car in an empty parking lot miles away from your parents' house. The heat was blasting through the vents in the hope of warming you and drying your drenched clothes. It was silent between you, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Are we really safe?” Riki asked, causing you to look over at him, your eyes softening as you took in the fear that was on his face.

You reached over the center console taking his hand into yours, encasing his fingers with your own. A small smile on your lips as you managed to lull him into looking over at you.

“I promise you, bub, that we are safe; we don’t have to worry about them anymore.” You started, your heart racing under your ribcage. “It’s me and you now. It’ll always be me and you.”

At that time, you hadn’t expected him to take that promise so seriously; you had made that promise knowing that the two of you would meet new people and eventually move on with your lives. Had he really thought that the two of you would be together until the end?

You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, showcasing your inner turmoil.

“You broke that promise, y/n.”

“I did no-”

“You did,” He growled harshly, causing you to jump in your seat, “you were going to leave me for one of those douchebags. You were going to abandon me for what? Some stupid fleeting love that’s not gonna last?” 

Your eyes went wide as he started to get aggressive, your hands shaking. 

“Riki, I wasn’t going to abandon you.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, “We’re getting older; we’re going to have our own lives. You couldn’t rely on me forever.”

Riki scoffs, anger flashing in his eyes, “So you were abandoning me?” You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quick to cut you off once more, “That’s why I needed to get rid of them all; only then would you realize that I was the only one you needed. The only one worthy enough to spend the rest of our lives together.” Hearing those words fall from his lips that you realize that something was immensely wrong, “I was almost there too, but then you had to go and try to be the hero.” He hissed, eyes boring into you with such a heated gaze that left your skin crawling.

“Riki-”

“No, because I went through all of that trouble just for everything to get fucked up.” His fingers curled into a fist before suddenly, his whole demeanor relaxed. The glare falling away leaving behind a smile that made your stomach turn, bile crept up your throat as the next few words fell from his lips. “But I’ll get to try again in the future, and this time…” He leaned forward until his face was merely inches away from the glass, “I won’t fail.”

You felt extremely lightheaded as you realized the weight of his words. The worst part of it all is you knew he wasn’t just playing a mind game; you knew that he would actually follow through with his word. Inhaling deeply, you reminded yourself that he was going to be locked away for a long, long time, and you would be just fine.

“You’re not getting out any time soon, Riki; what you did was wrong, and I will never forgive you for it.” You spoke lowly, scared that your voice would crack if you talked any higher.

Riki laughed sarcastically, leaning back in his seat once more, “I’ve done a lot of things; wiggling my way out of here won’t be much different.” His voice was cold, and he sounded so sure of himself that you had almost believed it, save for the fact that he had just outed himself.

“Times up Nishimura!” The officer exclaimed as he opened the door, the buzzer making you jump slightly.

Riki fought against his hold as he pulled him from the chair. " Let go of me!” he shouted, yanking his arm out of their hold. His eyes found yours once more. " Don’t worry, sis. I’ll be back for you, and then we can truly be happy together, just like you promised.”

Then, with that, they pulled him out of the room, and you were left in silence, only your thoughts keeping you company. You didn’t want to think about his words too much, knowing that he had a track record for playing mind games.

Another buzzer was heard, pulling you out of your own mind. An officer stood in the doorway not too far from you.

“It’s time to go, miss.” He spoke respectfully as he waited for you to gather your baring before standing on shaky legs.

You thanked him before walking out of the room and making your way towards the entrance, where you found Jay sitting, playing some game on his phone while he waited. Hearing the sound of your footsteps, he looked up, offering you a small smile, but it quickly vanished as he took in the troubled look on your face.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, standing to his feet and reaching out to grab your arm.

Looking up at him, you swallowed thickly and ran your fingers through your hair. " Um, can we just go? I’ll explain everything when we get home.”

Confused, he just nodded before leading the both of you out of the facility and back to his car. He had tried to ask you anything to get you to talk, even if it was about something dumb, but you didn’t utter a single word on the way home, your mind far too occupied.

You couldn’t help but wonder how true your brother's words were. Would he really be able to get out of there and go after you and your friends once more? Or was it just some hoax to get you all worked up and scared? It was a question that only time could tell, even if you truly hoped that it was all just words and that he was all bark and no bite. However, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling that filled your gut.

Months later, everything seemed to be going better. You and Jay were happy, and Jungwon was fully recovered and could get back to his daily life. The only difference was that the three of you made it a weekly thing to visit your friends' graves.

So that’s where the three of you were now, stepping out of Jay’s car to take in the breezy spring winds. You close your eyes and just let it wash over you, leaving a sense of serenity to fill your mind.

“Don’t forget the flowers in the back, Won.” Jay reminded the younger boy as he exited the vehicle, pocketing the keys before walking over to you just as you opened your eyes.

“Got 'em.” Jungwon held the small bouquet of flowers in his arms until you walked over and took a few from him, and he thanked you.

“Come on, it’s supposed to rain here soon.” You told the two boys before turning and making your way towards your friends’ graves.

The three of you chatted peacefully on the way there. However, noticing someone standing at the graves caused you to stop in your tracks. They were wearing all black, and their hood was pulled over their heads, so you couldn’t see any other features.

“Do you know who that is?” You asked Jay as all three of you watched the person walk away, their hands stuffed in their jacket pockets.

“Maybe a family member?” Jungwon asked, although his expression showed that he didn’t fully believe his words himself.

Trying to shake it off, you just moved towards the graves once more, the two boys following behind you. You spent a few good minutes making sure that all of the headstones were clean and pretty as you sat the flowers down. However, during all of this, and even as the three of you were leaving, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You had even thought you saw that same person out of the corner of your eyes, but when you went to look, you didn’t see anyone there.

‘I’m just paranoid, there’s no one here.’ 

And that’s what you continued to tell yourself despite the churning gut feeling that something just wasn’t right. You knew that your brother was locked away, and you could finally live your life in peace once more.

You were safe.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Right?

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[pluckyredhead]

…Sorry if this is a bit weird but do you have any queer romance book recommendations? I ended up finishing the last binding trilogy because you posted about it (you have excellent taste lol) and I’m a bit stuck at the moment with what to read next.

Not weird at all! I absolutely have recs! Also Freya Marske has a brand new book out called Swordcrossed if you want more of her writing. (For people who are not anon: The Last Binding is an Edwardian historical fantasy romance trilogy and it's excellent.)

Okay recs:

KJ Charles: My favorite queer romance author, hands down, and also the most prolific! She's written over 30 queer historical romance novels (and one queer historical mystery), mostly M/M, all historical and set in the UK during various time periods ranging from the 1810s to the 1920s. My two favorite things about her work: 1. It draws very heavily on the history, meaning that her characters never come across like modern people in historical cosplay. And 2. she's great at creating genuine conflict between or around characters. I have read too many romances where everything is uwu softness and nothing hurts but Charles's characters are always either fundamentally divided by politics, class, ethical perspectives, lies, and/or tragic backstories, OR they get along fine but a murderer is trying to kill them, OR, in the best of her books, both.

My favorites are probably The Will Darling Adventures (1920s trilogy all about the same couple fighting a criminal secret society), A Seditious Affair (1810s, a radical firebrand and a Tory government official accidentally fall in love while having extremely kinky sex), An Unnatural Vice (1870s, "spiritualist" con artist and the crusading journalist trying to expose him), and Any Old Diamonds (1890s, The Saddest Boy in the World hires a sexy jewel thief to rob his horrible father, kink ensues), but you can really start anywhere - Think of England is where I jumped on and it's nice because it's more of a standalone (there is a companion book but Think of England comes first). If you liked The Last Binding, you might want to start with her Magpie Lord series because they are also fantasy romance. (Freya Marske is a big KJ Charles fan and it shows, in a good way.)

Allie Therin: Sticking with the fantasy romance angle here for a moment, Therin has a 1920s trilogy called Magic in Manhattan that is all about the same couple, a prickly magic-user named Rory and the big hunky WWI vet who loves him, as they fight various evil magicians. (HUGE oversimplification but you get it.) There's a spinoff trilogy, the Roaring Twenties Magic series, which has two books out so far. I love NYC, the 1920s, fantasy, and queer romance, so obviously I love all of this.

But I'm particularly obsessed with her Sugar and Vice series (also a trilogy, first book is out already and the second one comes out next month) which is set in modern day Seattle and is about an empath named Reece and the super dangerous empath hunter called the Dead Man who may or may not be here to kill Reece, and also there's a serial killer on the loose. This one is a suuuuuuper slow burn (they don't even kiss in the first book!), so you have to be patient but I read the second book early and yeah I'm obsessed and desperate to talk to other people about these books.

Charlie Adhara: More paranormal romance! I wrote about these books at greater length recently, but the short version is: FBI agent gets transferred to the super secret werewolf division of the FBI and partnered with a hot werewolf, they fall in love, spend five books developing into The Ultimate Power Couple, I'm in love with their love. There's a spinoff series called Monster Hunt but only one book is out so far.

TJ Klune: I probably don't have to tell anyone about TJ Klune anymore and I'll admit he can be hit or miss for me but I did really love Wolfsong. As long as we're talking werewolves.

Dessa Lux: Okay these are more erotica than romance but Omega Required is a comfort read for me, which is funny because I'm not usually an omegaverse gal. But this is about a very sweet alpha doctor who offers a marriage of convenience to a very traumatized omega and it's literally just nonstop cuddling and soup. She also has a series that's just ever-growing werewolf gangbangs, if that's a thing you're into. Like. A cartoonish amount of werewolves at the gangbang. It's delightful.

Cat Sebastian: I will admit Sebastian is also a little bit hit or miss for me. I loved her very first trilogy, the Turner series, which is very much in the vein of KJ Charles (Regency romance, class divides, lots of conflict). She wrote some more 19th century stuff after that and then moved into mid-20th century romance (50s-70s) which is honestly very rare. She also basically...stopped writing any conflict at all. I would say a large portion of her books after the Turner series can be accurately described as "two best friends who are secretly in love with each other sit in the same house/apartment and enjoy each other's company until they get together." I know a BUNCH of people who absolutely love that and they are well-written! But I really have to be in the right mood for them.

Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy: Okay I am not a hockey person, but you must, you MUST read Him and its sequel, Us. Hockey-playing BFFs, one is gay and secretly in love with the the other, the other one is like "I don't think I'm into dudes but I'd better give you 300 blowjobs to make sure." (Spoiler: he's into dudes.) Honestly the stupidest men imaginable. I love them so much. Bowen has written a few other queer romances solo and I'm working my way through her back catalog now.

Rachel Reid: Yes it's more hockey romance but. BUT. Heated Rivalry. Two of the top players in the NHL, on rival teams, have famously hated each other for years...and have secretly been fucking since they were rookies. Reid is another one where I'm still working my way through her books but Heated Rivalry is something special.

I am SURE there are more I'm forgetting but this is long so I'll stop it here for now! Also folks should feel free to reblog with further recs, she said selfishly.

[oneshotnewbie]

𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫

𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 "𝐺𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟". 𝐷𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑢𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ♥

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛 𝐹𝐵𝐼 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑗𝑜𝑏 𝑏𝑦 𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑟. 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This chapter includes the topic of stalking and some swearing. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Your head was already hurting the morning before you got on the jet back to Quantico. Throbbing pressure in your temples and stiffness in your neck after a strenuous mission was common. Nevertheless, the failure and the resulting frustration largely gnawed at you and increased the additional pain.

You could not believe such a wrong game had been played with the entire crew. As soon as you arrived in Michigan and the encounter of the local police, they lusted after a dying gazelle like a horde of scavengers. The chief police commissioner was only out for triumph in making headlines, rather than catching the perpetrator, focusing on the victim and their survival.

All the information and files created were unsorted and a sheer disaster, taking you numerous hours to rummage through and filter out the most important points for Spencer and you. Forensics had not photographed the body from every angle and even moved it beforehand, so there was no original picture showing the woman in the position where she was found. All the evidence was flawed and incomplete.

Nevertheless, you managed to create a profile that was most suitable and customized for the murderer. Based on your profiling and the plots of the murders, it was quickly determined that notorious serial killer Jacob Sykes was involved.

For the past five years, the FBI has been frantically searching for him after he went into hiding. Sykes had seventeen women between the ages of 20 and 35 on his conscience, with whom he always acted the same way. Raping and killing them with short, straight cuts on both sides of the neck at the main arteries before dumping the bodies near children´s playgrounds.

The number of reporters at each crime scene was exceptional and nothing you had ever seen before. They ignored the distance behind the tape and disrupted the collection of evidence with screams or angry shouts. The press did not hold back on comment, leaving a bitter smack of tasteless speculations and insults directed at the BAU.

It took an immense amount of self-restraint for you to get the press to walk away without getting physical.

"Hey, how is your head?" lost in thought, you were startled by the suddenly appearing voice. Looking up from your paperwork with slight irritation, you launched a half-hearted smile at the figure, who has flopped down in the seat across from you and held out a water to you.

You hid yourself in the back corner of the plane on purpose, making yourself small to isolate yourself from the rest of the group. You just wanted your peace so as not to transfer a bad mood on your team but your best friend did not let herself be shaken off. Never.

Emily knew you were particularly struggling with the case. Five months after joining the BAU, you first heard about it from Rossi and have been obsessed with solving it ever since. Why was uncertain, but disgust was written all over your face every time his name came up.

"As if someone had taken my brain out and replaced it with jagged rocks"

"What do you think of pizza at my place after we call it a day? Would probably do you some good," she grinned at you while you gratefully accepted the water and the painkiller, which she also held out to you.

Actually, it was clear to you that you wanted to crawl into your own bed after the harsh days and sleep until you woke up on your own. But you could not refuse anything that she wanted from you and so you agreed.

"I am in, but please give me a moment alone," the black-haired agent nodded and locked her eyes with yours, silently and dreamy before caressing your cheek tenderly and getting up to go back to her seat.

"Y/n," she managed let a tentatively whisper past her lips. You carefully turned your head back in her direction, letting your chin rest on the palm of your hand while waiting for what she had to say. "We will land in a few minutes. Make sure to take everything with you"

ᕚ---ᕘ

While the whole team walked through the hallways of the BAU to the elevators, you hurriedly ran up the stairs to the second floor, where your shared office was. You hated elevators. They were too narrow and it was understandable that you did not trusted the squeaky mechanism of the cables. Also, you felt uncomfortable between the metallic walls of the cabin.

You were always faster than everyone else when you took the stairs anyway.

Two other agents opened the big glass doors before you entered the office; all emotion draining from your face. You stopped strictly in the middle of the office and ran a hand through your hair in confusion. You stared at your desk in silence, not quite sure how to react to that.

"What´s that crap?" you barked your question to Morgan and Reid, whose footsteps and chatter you could already hear behind you, irritated. They, who entered the office´s right behind you with the girls shortly after, were slightly startled by your angry voice. Everyone looked at you questioningly before you pushed aside and allowed them to look at your workspace, which was covered with flowers and chocolates. "Did one of you pranksters order this before we left? That is not funny"

"Seems you have a secret admirer," your work colleague proudly walked over to you in amusement and laughed as he gave you a slight punch on the shoulder. Morgan lifted the bouquet of bright red roses up while JJ grabbed the box of heart shaped pralines and disappeared to her desk.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and buried your arms under your chest. You watched intently as Derek looked at each rose from all sides and tugged at one to pull a white envelope from the thorny stems. "Someone left you a note. Read it!"

"Can you guys stop meddling in private things?"

"They can not, Em. It is their damn job," fed up with today, you snatched the little card out of Spencer´s hand, which he was holding out to you and fiddled at the little heart sticker that kept the whole thing locked. Before you got the little piece of paper out it´s packaging, you looked intently at the two boys who were standing at Emily´s desk, grinning. "If that is a shitty joke by either of you, I will kill you."

As your gaze got lost in the individual letters and the maze of scrambled words spiraled into a text, your jaw dropped to the floor. Disgusted and confused, you felt your heartbeat spread through your body. Blood pounded in your ears and your mouth went dry.

In a haze, you turned your head vigorously in every possible direction. The world spun around you, scanning the entire office for suspicious people who might be looking at you, wanting to catch the moment of a first reaction to their message.

"Y/n, is everything okay?"

Your gaze quickly wandered in the direction of the black haired. "No," you answered shakily and she was able to filter the strange tone of anxiety and fear out of your voice immediately. Emily´s eyes were fixed squarely on you, her eyebrows raised high while her lips pressed into a thin line. 

Approaching you, she lowered her glance to the card you were squeezing tightly in your fist. With her fingers, she pinched the last corner that was sticking out and genly pulled it out of your palm so as not to accidentely cut you.

<I am obsessed with you, darling.   I want you to be mine and only mine.   Let me under your soft skin, let me know everything about you.   Let me feel every inch of your small body, let me get high on your vanilla frequence with the powerful note of jasmine flowers and the fruity nuance.   Pretty soon you will be all mine>

It was to be expected that she would read the letter aloud in front of your team. As she did so, you drew closer to her private space, no longer feeling secure. You nervously stroked the goosebumps on your bare arm and followed every movement that happened around you while racking your brain for a clue as to who this might have been but came up short.

"One study found out that in random samples, the lifetime prevalance of being a victim of stalking is 11.6% and rising. Women are affected up to 6% more than men," the words flowed from Spencer´s mouth. A small voice in his head rebuked him, but he resolutely brushed it aside.

Sooner or later, you would be faced with another gift from the unknown person so it did not help to wrap you in cotton wool.

"Does not help, Reid!" as suspected, none of the teammates standing around you were happy with this fact, but more like fire and flame. You were the youngest on the team and automatically unleashed a protective instinct in every single person.

"I will tell Hotch," JJ immediately tossed the chocolates in the trash can, glad she had not began to eat any of them yet. Maybe they were poisoned or laced with some deadly substance meant to hit you. With a quick walk, she disappeared up the stairs and walked straight to Aaron Hotchner´s office to inform him of the incident in great detail.

"And I will take this to forensics. Maybe they can salvage some fingerprint so we can catch the bastard and I can-" Morgan kept his remarks extra vague so as not to completely upset you. But it was already too late for that.

You were beyond insecure.

The answer from the unit chief about further actions was not long in coming and appeared a few minutes later in form of a briefing. The message to the team was very short, telling everyone that they would have to wait for the forensic evaluation, but that you still needed to be kept under surveillance.

"We can not just ditch it and wait," Derek shrugged in frustration as he complained about the lack of action. His arms were tightly crossed behind his head, staring intently at Hotch. When it came to you, he tended to be quite protective, almost like a big brother, and the unit chief understood him, really. You were his responsibility. "The guy is talking about her perfume in detail. He is around"

Unfortunately, Aaron could not contradict the statement, but it annoyed him not to know what else he could do. He had no traces. Nothing of any importance. The only thing that promised a little beginning was the shop from which the flowers had been sent by courier, which might offer a promising clue.

"Prentiss, Morgan. Drive to Achara Florist on Richmond Highway, the flowers were ordered from there. See if you can find out anything about whoever placed the order," both nodded in agreement and slid back with their chair to get up. The individual documtens that they had placed in front of them until recently, were stacked in the middle of the table before they left the room. "Hotch, what can I do?"

"You are staying. As long as we do not know in which direction this is going, you are safest here,"

"But that is my.. whatever. I should be there. After all, I am the only one who this stuff is dedicated to!" you scolded while helping JJ sort the papers into a file and put the chairs back at the table. You knew Aaron was just as concerned as anyone and preferred a safe option; you were in no good constitution to talk him into changing his plan now.

It was useless.

He gave you a warning look that silenced you. Snorting, you handed the last papers to the blonde and looked demonstratively back in his direction. It was not a comfortable silence that stood beween you, but better than bickering with your chief.

Without a word, you turned away and left the conference room. The case was nerve-wracking enough and dealing with a weird guy who seemed to have been watching you for a long time was pushing your limits so you used the path to your desk trying to cool yourself off.

ᕚ---ᕘ

A gentle dance of two fingers on your shoulders snapped you out of your daydreams and made you startle in your chair. You had been absorbed in the case of Jacob Sykes for hours. Well, actually you only pretended to work hard on it.

You had been shuffling files, moving them from pile to pile and made some drawing that had absolutely nothing to do with the case. Totally bored, tired and with your thoughts somewhere else, you were ready to just go home and forget the days events.

But you had to wait until you could mark the day as over.

"Nice doodle. Desk work is no fun, huh?" Morgan asked, snatching the piece of paper away from you all while walking through the aisle of your individual desks to his. "No, but do you like my drawing? The thing should represent you" you asked back and he gave you a confused but smirking look as he lowered down on his chair.

"Hm," he said, staring at you until you averted your gaze and looked at the raven haired. Her leather jacket was slightly soaked, her straightened hair had turned into loose, frizzy curls, although the weather forecast had predicted a sunny day.

This was a welcome change as there had been an uninterrupted heat build-up since Monday last week, making it impossible for you to concentrate on any work. Not that you did not like the sun, but you liked rain a lot more.

"Did you find out anything?" you leaned back in the chair and tilted your head, resting the back of your head on her midsection. The addressed just shook her head and gently brushed a lost strand of hair from your forehead. "The shop was already closed when we arrived. We left out contacts there, hopefully we will get an answer tomorrow"

You closed your eyes with a sigh. Your frustration was clearly visible on your face. Emily waited for a few seconds but you did not reply to her answer. She knew you wanted to mumble something back and curse.

"You can all go home," you looked around, slightly frightened, and tried to find the voice of the male figure in the much too large office until you got stuck on the railing of the first floor. Aaron Hotchner stood alone on the narrow balcony-like platform and looked down at his team. "There is nothing more we can do today"

It had not surprised him in the least that you did tried to get out of the FBI building the quickest and that you did succeeded in the end. You did not need to be told twice. Jumping out of your seat, you packed up your stuff swiftly and almost ran out the office, but not without giving JJ a hastily big hug.

Laughter broke out and Emily had closed her eyes, shook her head and obviously resisted the urge to roll her eyes before trying to catch up to you. Aaron did not mind, he already noticed the tiredness and tension on your face this afternoon, which had worsened with the passage of time.

ᕚ---ᕘ

"Hey Serg," you greeted the black cat, who jumped off the scratching post and reared up in front of you with expectant eyes as only cats can and made the appropriate noises, showing you that he was happy. Even before you stepped into the hallways behind the young agent, he snuggled up to your lower leg and made you smile. "Aw, did you miss me?"

While Emily disappeared into the bedroom to get rid of her wet clothes, you sat cross-legged on the floor and dealt with the young cat, who meanwhile began to purr loudly under your touch. He enjoyed the closeness and absorbed any negative feelings you felt that day.

As if in a small bubble, you forgot everything around you and only noticed the vibrating of his small body under your palm and the gentle tapping of his paws on your jeans. His fur was fluffier and softer than usual as he snuggled up to your outstretched hand, gently scratching behind his ear. "Unbelieveable!"

You heard the black haired bleating and looked up at her as she almost jealousy leaned against the door frame. She was now dressed in sweatpants and a simple black top, which subtly emphasized the muscles in her upper arms. These were locked tightly under her chest, her lips curled into a soft pout. "He gets more attention from you than me. And he is a cat!"

You giggled and shook your head before you took him in your arms and stood up carefully. Sergio mewed softly as you cradled him in one of your arms like a baby and nudged his nose in amusement. Slowly taking your shoes off with your heels, you walked over to Emily while being busy scratching the cat´s white belly.

You glanced at the taller woman as you invaded her personal space and watched her get visibly more tense and nervous. A mischievous grin spread across your lips, carefully hiking your eyebrows. "Purr for me like a kitten and you will get all the attention you want," you winked at her, smirking widely.

She swallowed hard as the blush rose in her cheeks. Uneasy, she closed her eyes to steady her rapidly beating heart, slowly licking her lips as she felt your warm breath brushing her thin skin. How she would like to just grab you and kiss you, but she tried to keep her composure. The cold that hits her skin shortly after you crept past her made her shudder and left her with a gentle tingle in the pit of her stomach. It snapped her out of her thoughts and brought her back to the cold reality. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself away from the wall she was standing against and walked over to you where you already sat on the couch with a slice of pizza and a glass of wine.

[heartthrobin]

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.

Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.

"We have fucking nothing!"

Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.

"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.

"You know that's not enough."

Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.

The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.

Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.

"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."

Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.

Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.

"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."

The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.

Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.

The team leader's jaw was tight.

He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.

Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"

Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."

"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.

The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.  

Hotch nodded stiffly.

"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."

There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.

"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"

"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."

Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"

Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.

"Like me."

Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.

It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.

Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."

You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."

It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.

You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.

It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.

Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.

What really made it difficult, was Hotch.

In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.

With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.

It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.

When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.

You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.

The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.

You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.

The only person who really knew anything was Emily.

It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"

And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.

You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"

Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."

The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.

You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.

"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.

Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.

Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."

It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.

Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.

"I suppose that means it’s me then."

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.

"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."

You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.

Instead, he turned back to Spencer.

"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."

Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.

Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.

God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.

"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.

"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."

Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.

She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."

Your stomach churned.

-

Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.

At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.  

It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.

The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.

With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.

Penelope was talking over the car speaker.

"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."

"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"

Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.

A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.

The last two days had been painful.

You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.

Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."

It was easy for her to say.

Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.

Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—

"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."

Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47

"Thank you Garcia."

"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."

"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.

Heat rushed over your face.

You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.

"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."

The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.

"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."

It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

But you nodded anyways.

It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.

Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.

The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.

Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."

The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.

He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."

Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.

Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.

You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.

"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."

You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.

He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."

The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.

A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."

Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.

"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."

"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"

Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.

Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.

Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.

His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.

"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.

"Hm?"

You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."

Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.

"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.

"That sounds wonderful—"

Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."

The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.

"Y-Yes, of course sir."

You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.

Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.

His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.

Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.

You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.

"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.

A gasp escaped you.

The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.

It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.

There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.

"Hotch—"

Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.

You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.

His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.

This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.

Eight people were dead.

Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.

Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.

He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.

It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.

When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.

But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.

He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.

"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.

Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.

"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."

There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.

Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.

Behind him you were doing the same.

He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.

You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.

"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.

"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.

He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.

You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."

Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.

"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.

You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.

Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,

We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!

Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.

Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!

Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.

The page crinkled beneath his fingers.

"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."

The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.

David's voice still rung in his ears:

"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."

You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."

Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."

The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.

His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.

Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.

You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.

Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.

The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.

Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.

Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.

A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.

"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.

He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.

"It is." But his eyes never left you.

Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.

It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."

You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.

The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.

That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.

Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.

You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."

The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.

The room quietened.

"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.

He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.

Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."

You met Hotch's eye. Owners.

Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.

Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."

You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.

While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.

At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.

"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."

They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."

The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.

"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."

"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."

Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.

"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"

"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."

"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."

Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.

You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.

As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.

Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?

No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.

Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.

But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?

Eyes fell on you.

Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.

"We're the Thompsons. I'm James  and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."

His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"

"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"

Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."

You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.

He turned to you, "Darling?"

You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"

"Screwing the professor, very classy."

The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.

It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.

The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.

You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.

He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.

The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."

You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.

"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."

It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.

He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."

It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.

By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.

You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.

Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.

It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.

He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.

You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.

You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?

He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?

"James ..." you whispered.

He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.

"What's wrong?"

The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."

You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.

Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.

Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."

You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.

Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.

His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."

Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.

"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"

"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,

"—and savor the rest of your week."

Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.

Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.

However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.

The men had done the same, converging near the bar.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.

He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."

Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."

Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.

"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."

Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.

It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.

You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.

"So, Eleanor was it?"

Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.

Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.

"Yes. Jenna, right?"

The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.

"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."

Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.

"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.

Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."

"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"

Her words dripped in condescension.

"Just got lucky, what can I say?"

Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.

"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"

"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."

Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.

"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."

You smiled kindly at her.

"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"

Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.

A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.

He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.

A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.

A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."

He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."

The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.

A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.

While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.

Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's  energy was better placed elsewhere.

"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."

Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.

He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.

Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"

The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.

One at Richard's side,  "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."

The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."

Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."  

Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.

"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."

Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.

His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.

Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.

A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.

He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.

Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"

You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.

The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.

On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.

"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.

Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."

You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."

Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.

The implication on your character made his blood boil.

"Let me guess, Atkins?"

You nodded, "How'd you know?"

"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."

Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.

"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"

"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."

The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.

You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.

It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.

Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.

Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.

The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—

The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.

You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.

The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.

The door clicked open.

"Put that away, you should get some sleep."

"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.

His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.

He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.

"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.

He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."

There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.

Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.

"I ... I think I'll take the couch."

Your heart sunk.

"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.

"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."

"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."

He hesitated.

"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.

But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.

The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.

His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.

There was quiet for a long moment.

The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.

It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.

You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.

"You did well today. I know you were nervous."

A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.

"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."

You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.

"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."

The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.

"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."

"Wasn't good?"

"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.

"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"

You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.

"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."

Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"

He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.

"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"

Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"

"Because they're really good at it."

The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.

"Worse than the dead wife joke?"

"Okay, maybe not that bad."

Quiet fell again.

"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."

"Goodnight."

-

Tags:

@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444

[atinyniki]

Hihihi<3 I was thinking of Seungmin or Lee know (you can chose) with a idol!Gf that gets hurt during a award show.. maybe falling off a wobbly platform 8ft in the air? (We don’t brear our back). What would his reaction be? I know it’s kinda cruel but Its been on my mind for a week.. if it makes u uncomfy ignore this and forget u ever read it<3 Ty in advance<333

i'll take care of you.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!kim seungmin x idol f!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, crying, reader fractures her ankle, kissing, play fighting, seungmin wants to murder someone, reader falls from a platform, lots of petnames, just rlly cute and fluffy at the end, seungmin is really scared, injuries, established relationships, munhee is a member of y/ns gg.

authors note: ik this was supposed to be more angsty but im literally head over heels for softie seungmin so here you go :P thank you for the ask annonie !! this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1344

“hey hey hey, don’t be nervous my love… you’ll do amazing, i know it.”

“i’ve never done this in front of such a crowd before… what if they don’t like me, min?”

“oh baby… they’ll love you, i promise. and if anything happens on stage, your members will be there to back you up, yeah?”

you give him a hug, he always knew how to calm you down in moments like these. you suppose it’s because of his own experiences, especially considering the amount of award shows he’s been at. 

“i love you, seungminnie…”

“i love you too, baby. now go! you don’t wanna miss your cue. i’ll be in the audience, i promise.”

you give him a quick kiss, shooting up from the seat to go meet your members. seungmin leaves too, sitting down at stray kids’ respective table.

“excited?”, jeongin asks from beside him.

“of course i am! i’m so proud of her…”

his eyes stay fixed on the stage, waiting for your performance to start. the lights dim, and he sits up straight. it’s time for your performance.

there’s no point in recording, he knows they’ll have a fancam. right now, he just wants to watch his baby shine. 

and you do. you look absolutely gorgeous on stage, the lights hitting you at the perfect angles. the track starts, and the crowd starts cheering.

so many people, just for five girls performing. the first song is a ballad, something slow to set the mood. it’s one of your favorite songs from the comeback.

though munhee wrote the song due to her own experiences, your voice carries the same amount of emotion hers does, and it makes the lyrics sound so much more authentic.

seungmin watches from the crowd, he truly thinks he might cry. the rest of the boys are in awe too, some members of gidle clasping their hands over their mouths in surprise.

everyone is used to you doing intricate dances with upbeat music, and they’ve truly never been able to appreciate your vocals.

then it hits the climax of the song, ending with a high note you must complete. as scared you are of heights, you know it’s inevitable. the platforms will go up, whether you like it or not.

its a small space that you have to maintain, but you try your best to focus on the song. and now, you have to sing.

you close your eyes, letting out your voice, and it sounds absolutely angelic. and then you open them again once you hear the low whirring of the platforms.

they all go up. 

except for yours.

nonetheless, you continue singing, determined to keep your professionalism throughout the entire bridge. and then the song ends. the platforms finally lower back down, and all of you wait for your cues to leave.

once you see it, you take a step.

you shouldn’t have.

all of a sudden, your platform shoots all the way up. eight feet in the air. before you have time to process, it wobbles side to side and you fall off.

thud.

seungmin stands up instantly, rushing to get backstage. he doesn’t care how many people hes pushed and shoved, but he needs to know that you’re okay.

and then a shrill scream fills the air, and his heart stops. it feels like your entire foot is about to fall off, the pressure from your fall crushing it under your weight.

he continues running as fast as he can, getting backstage before you can even blink. “baby? oh my god…”

you’re still crying from the pain, being set onto a stretcher for your leg. “it hurts…”

“i know baby… i know. you’ll be okay…”

they finally get you onto a comfortable bed, evaluating the damage to your ankle. luckily there’s no blood, the medics assume that it’s broken.

“seungmin… you’re on soon.”

“i’m not performing. jeongin’s filling in for me today.”

“what? but you practiced…”

“please… let me stay. i just want to help you feel better…”

you grab onto his hand, trying your best to reassure him that you’re okay. he doesn’t budge, so you just give up on it. 

“you did amazing, angel.”

“thank you…”

“no, really. i mean it. you kept it incredibly professional out there. plus the song was way outside your comfort zone, it was just amazing to hear you sing like that.”

“seungmin…”

“i’m going to kill whoever fucking did that to you. normally they’re more careful with these things… i should’ve had them double check or something. i’m sorry”

“hey, it’s not your fault. please don’t worry… it’s just my ankle. i’ll be fine, really.”

“but you’re hurt. if we had done a test before to check… maybe you wouldn’t have to be here…”

you smile, grabbing onto his hand and bringing it up to your lips to plant a small kiss over his wrist. “it was just a malfunction. it was out of our control, min.”

he clutches onto your hand tighter, his heart fluttering when he looks at you again. the black lightning-like streaks paint your face, eyes still slightly glossed over and nose red.

you’re so worn down, but you still look beautiful as ever. he prefers you like this, natural and authentic. you still look just as beautiful, but the black streaks have his heart clenching.

suddenly, he gets up, picking you up and moving you to the side a little. he’s extra careful not to apply any pressure to your ankle. he knows you’re in enough pain already.

he sits down in the empty space next to you, pulling your head to his chest. “you promise you’re okay? no discomfort?”

“it hurts of course, but other than that, no.”

“i’m so sorry…”

“baby, it’s really not your fault.”

he rubs up and down your arms, more so to soothe himself rather than you, and you smile up at him. you place a small kiss on the corner of his lips, as far as you can reach without moving your legs.

“i’m okay…”

“i love you, gorgeous.”

“i love you too, minnie.”

the medics finally come back, telling you that it’s only a fracture. you’re lucky you don’t need a cast, but you still need to heal for a little while.

“thank god you’re okay…”

“seungmin—“

“you’re not going anywhere without me for the next couple days, okay? i’ll take care of you, i promise…”

“seungmin, you really don’t have to—“

he cuts you off again.

“but i want to.”

you giggle again, you didn’t think he’d react this way. but of course he was going to be overprotective, what did you expect?

you lean over to plant one more kiss onto his jaw, and he pulls you onto his lap. “seungmin, i think you’re more upset about this than me…”

“of course i’m upset! they hurt my baby…”

“it doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore… im fine. you don’t have to worry about me.”

he pulls you flush against his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. you giggle at him, a little confused as to why he’s licking you, but you stop once you realize that it’s not saliva.

they’re tears.

“it could have been so much worse…”

you wipe the tears from his face, smiling once you see him clearly again. “why are you crying?”

he sighs lightly, giggling when he realizes how he’s acting. “nothing, i’m just… glad you’re okay.”

you smile at him, holding his hand again and trying to sit up. it doesn’t work of course, seungmins arms are wrapped tightly around your waist.

“let me go!”

you thrash around in his arms, but he only holds onto you tighter, giggling as he watches. 

“seungmin!”, you whine.

“they said you needed rest!”

“that doesn’t mean you have to be completely attached to me!”

he rolls his eyes playfully, planting a kiss onto the top of your head. “actually, thats exactly what it means.”

“i hate you, kim seungmin.”, you grumble. you turn to look at him, scoffing once you see him wink.

“love you too, babe.”

<3

[verysium]

Hi please ignore this if you aren't taking requests but I have this very specific idea if you could do it:

Sae cheating on Model S/O with their rival model right before a big modeling competition which the now ex S/O wins and to kinda take revenge the now Ex S/O saying to the rival model "say hello to Sae for me"

I know this is super specific and it's up to you if you would like to take this request or not I'm currently looking for a modelling agency IRL

i took some creative liberties with this one. it was heavily inspired by yasmeen khan's 1001 nights. i do not know much about professional modeling, so most of the actual references are obscure. hopefully, this works for you though:

instead of a heart, you were born with a wound, a three-by-five inch gash that allowed the light to pass through.

doubt festers like an aperture, a brief shutter of the lens before your eyes blink away all uncertainty. in the confines of your dressing room, the mirror replaces your face with sloshing light, the silver streams of your reflection dripping down through stained fingers. it's nothing compared to the brightness of your screen, the damning evidence of a murder scene splattered across dry text.

who the hell is she? what do you mean? are you fucking cheating on me sae?

there's a knock on your door. it's alessandro, the stylist. his voice cuts through the silence, reedy and skin-tight. he wants to know why you've walked off mid-shoot, when you'll be back to rejoin the other girls on set. you think twice before you respond to his call, taking a deep breath before you face your interrogation.

there's blood on your gown, right above where your heart used to be. a fist-sized prism flashes within your chest, shot through with the hue of your arteries. crimson for the knife-thin glint in your eyes. poppy for the withered petals of your lips. scarlet for the salt encrusting your mouth. ruby for the iron ore of your tongue. red was always your color.

the photographers line up before you, judgement painted on their faces, both sets of eyes unblinking. tears with mascara make a good cover shoot, but a scornful lover with his other woman make for an even better story. you've long run out of tears to cry, tried your hand in the art of storytelling. the only way you know how to love is to angle your face towards a crowd, to bite your lip until it bleeds. your smile never wavers in its sharpness, every confession clasped tightly between white teeth.

snap, snap: once upon a time, there was a boy who weaved lies. click, click: once upon a time, there was a girl who fell for them. flash, flash: once upon a time, this could have been a love story.

there are harder things to hold than a pose, and your resolve becomes nigh unbreakable. in front of every shattering bulb, you hold strong against the impact force of time. your body is sanctified in the golden light, a yellowed blade across the horizon.

perhaps the next girl would be softer, bleeding flowers into aching mouths. perhaps the next girl would be beautiful.

but for now, you remain cold and hard and bright. you stare directly at the sun. you crush every bud beneath your fingertips, cut your flesh on its thorns. down to its very bone, every wound becomes a scar, every smile becomes a story.

when the shoot wraps up and the other woman steps in, you grin with enough light to cut shadows into her body.

"you're his new girl, right? say hello to sae for me."

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 2

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies you also die. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 2 summary: Escape is futile

Part Pilot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And the winner is Python!"

I turned my head from the bloody sight. I had brutally murdered an innocent fighter like myself. But I had to do it. It was my only chance out of here and they were far too mentally gone to even have a chance at a normal life.

I pushed myself up on one foot and limped to the gate. The crowd above roared my fighter name and bets were being collected. My master picked me up and looked down at my injured foot. Usually a head collar was strapped on to keep me from using magic against him, but he had recently gotten more comfortable without it.

I flicked my wrist behind his back. The sweat from my forehead jumped off and sliced through his throat. He dropped me and fell, clutching his throat. I scrambled to my feet and bolted around the cages containing my brothers and sisters in fighting. I ran past the unknowing guard at the gate and into the crowd.

I could taste the sweet taste of freedom beyond those fences. All I had to do was hide in the woods until dawn. It was easy. The crowd didn't know what was happening and people often tried to run out on a poor bet. No one would interfere.

Except one.

Rope wrapped around my throat and snapped my head backwards. The force slammed my back into the cold ground. I coughed violently as I pulled the rope loose. Spit fell out of my lips as I looked up. Standing on the other end of the rope was Striker, a Full mage who liked to terrify others with his illusionist demonic appearance.

He pulled on the rope and it tightened again. I slipped my hand under it and tried to dig my chin between my neck and it. He pulled even tighter, rougher, and pulled me forward, forcing me to fall on my stomach. I sent wind and dirt but he casted a shield of around himself.

I looked to the side and pretended to lift something. His glance was all I needed. I leaned forward and pulled the rope over my head. I barely made two steps before something caught my foot. I tried to pull that one off but the ropes kept coming. My neck, my shoulder, my wrist, and my knee. I flailed and threw every magic I could at his ropes. Yet it did nothing. A Slight hand was no match for a Full mage.

Henchmen appeared and pulled the ropes in different directions. It was mere seconds to have me completely immobile on the cold ground. Striker stepped inches from my face before kneeling down and grabbing my chin. He lifted the rope around my neck at the same time, painfully contorting my neck in what felt like a 90 degree angle.

"Looks like you're mine now, sweetheart," he purred, "'til the day you die." He let go of my head and my face slammed down into the pavement.

I jerked my head up from the pillow with a yelp. I found myself in an old, dusty room with sunlight streaming in from the window. I sat up and examined every inch of the room. How the hell did I get here?

I tried to think past the nightmare but was met with a mental block. Who's house was this? Why am I here? When did I change into a white gown? Who's bed is this?

I put my feet on the cold carpet and padded over to the window. I looked out at a wide open sea and a sheer cliff-face. That's when it connected. I had evaded the worse fighter master for five years and landed right in the claws of the Radio Demon.

A light knock came at the door. I dove into the corner and put my hand up, ready to cast at a moment's notice. But the person who entered wasn't the Radio Demon, but a different one. He resembled a combination of a cat and bird, his entire body covered in gray and white fur and his wings a gorgeous bright red. He had a black top hat sitting between his ears.

"You're awake," he said, "Good. Your clothes are in the wardrobe. Alastor wants to speak with you before he leaves so hurry up." He shut the door.

My neck hairs bristled at being told what to do. I didn't waste five years of freedom to be told what to do again solely because my soul happened to be bound to the worse Full mage of the century.

Yet there was nothing I could do.

I opened the wardrobe to find old dresses that looked like they were from the 1930s. Maybe the 40s or 50s? They were old, that much was obvious. Not my style, either.

Now he's dressing me.

I swallowed hard and picked a long skirt and button down. I locked myself in the bathroom, grateful that it had a lock, and quickly dressed. The sink had a bowl of water in it which told me this old house didn't have working pipes.

I gently splashed my eyes with the ice cold water to wake myself up. I found an old brush in one of the drawers and brushed out my messy hair. It had taken nearly three years to really understand how to take care of this hair. I had grown it out after escaping the rings to make myself more unnoticeable.

I let out a sigh. I closed my eyes and took a moment to ready myself for the next encounter with the mage. He couldn't kill me. He would kill himself in the process. If he tried to keep my in a cage like the others a little self harm should do the trick. I had options. I could handle this. I had handled worse. Right?

Outside the room wasn't much better off. The floorboards caved under my weight and spewed dust up in my face. I sneezed a few times on my way down, careful not to touch anything in case it disintegrated upon contact.

The staircase to the foyer was tight and narrow. I could clearly see the deep purple and dark brown accents of the house now. It didn't exactly look pretty. Though I couldn't imagine much thought was put into any part of this old house.

I turned at the last step to find my soulmate standing by the cold fire. He seemed to be looking at something before he spun to face me. His eyes looked me from head to toe and back again. My fingers tightened into a fist subconsciously.

"Mm, it'll do." I bristled at the comment but he crossed the living room in seconds to stand in front of me. I took a step back. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Come sit, I have much to tell you before I leave." He stepped to the side and gestured to the room. His other hand was behind his back holding his cane; the cane that made me feel like I was always being watched with the creepy little eye on it.

I looked up at his red eyes before forcing myself to walk into the room and sit on one of the hideous old chairs. He sat on the other one on the opposite side of the fireplace and crossed his legs elegantly. I crossed my ankles and put my hands in my lap. I hated dresses but I had watched enough women and explored the internet enough to know how to sit 'properly'. He seemed like the type to correct me on manners.

"I'll make this simple since I have places to be," he started, "My rules are very simple. Rule number one, you're not to leave the premises. You have until the tree-line before you're considered off this property. Rule number two, you can go anywhere in the house except for my room and office. They're beside each other on the second floor. Don't worry, they're locked so you can't mistake them for another room." His eyes narrowed a tad. "Rule number three, don't bother me. You can do anything you like, request nearly anything from Husker, but do not disturb me."

"May I ask a question?" I ventured. My head was tilted down a little and my eyes glared up at him.

"Yes you may." He laid his cane on his lap.

"If you want nothing to do with me, why the hell are you keeping me here?"

"Silly girl," he chuckled, "I told you last night. I need not worry about my soulmate dying in wasteful ring fights. If you die, I die. Not to mention, if people discovered we were connected you would undoubtedly find yourself against very powerful mages that could kill you in half a second." I gritted my teeth, unsure of how to respond. "And as I said last night, you should be grateful that I'm providing you with a safe haven."

"A safe haven that's about to collapse?" I remarked, looking around at the dusty boards and picking at the old ratted chair.

"Well," he laughed, "if you're bored you could always fix up the place."

"Can't you do that with your oh-so-powerful magic?"

"I have more important things to use my magic on. Besides, your Slight magic should be enough to fix up the things you need." I was about to argue when he abruptly stood up. "Well, I must be going now. I do hope I won't have to remind you of my rules. They are rather simple and easy to follow. Good day." He didn't bother to use the door, disappearing into the shadows and melting into the floor.

I stared at where he had disappeared for a long moment. My eyes then trailed around the room, examining its every inch. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Boards creaked and I looked over to see Husker appearing from the hallway. "I'm sorry to hear that you have a shitty soulmate," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"I never believed in soulmates, really." I stood up to walk over to him. We looked roughly the same height until I got closer and discovered to be a few inches taller. "Is there a reason why you're...here? With him?"

"I'm under Alastor's service for an extended period of time," he answered, turning back down the hallway. I followed him through the narrow entryway and came to an old kitchen. "He told me I'm to fulfill most of your requests."

"Why do you listen to him?"

"For my own reasons," he growled, "I'm not about to let you run off, if that's what you're trying to get at. He can't kill you but he can kill me, and he will if I let you run off."

"Right." I quietly left the room to explore the rest of the house. Next to the kitchen was the dinning room. It was full of random old furniture that looked like someone had dumped the insides of a victorian home here. It circled back to the staircase and sitting room. On the other side of the sitting room was a library study. The books looked like they were nests for spiders, moths, and bookworms.

Upstairs had another sitting room but was mostly filled with old bedrooms and bathrooms. I quickly discovered which rooms belonged to Alastor. Directly across from 'my' bedroom were two locked doors side by side. So long as he came and went at early or late hours of the day, I could avoid him easy.

Escaping shouldn't be hard, though. A pang of guilt went through me as I thought of Husker having to deal with the repercussions. He was obviously a Full mage if he could conjure up a demonic illusion like that. Though what for while he was here, I'm not sure. Perhaps a scare tactic. I shook the thought from my head. I had killed people with my bare hands on the concept of "Me or them". This would be no different.

"Say," I found Husker drinking something in the kitchen, "could we fix the pipes so we can have running water?"

Husker shrugged. "Sure. You want to help?" The side glance his black eyes made me want to incline.

"Sure."

Outside had a cool, ocean breeze crossing the field. I instantly found the tree line Alastor spoke of. The first challenge of escaping would be crossing the field. There was nothing to hide behind or use for a shield. I had to buy time to cross the field and take shelter in the dense trees.

Husker went to the side of the house where an old well stood a few paces from it. He put his hands on the ground and seemed to search through the earth. A moment later he snapped his black eyes open and looked up at me.

"Clean out the well and dig further down until you reach water." He said as he pointed to the stoned circle. I stood on the side that put it between me and Husker. I had heard too many tales of people losing their life to a deep well.

Husker fixed the pipes underground and through the house while I fixed the source. I knew my next request to him was to allow me more clothes that fit my style. And more pants. I kept quiet until the brown water turned into pristine, clear running water from all the faucets.

I dried my hands on my dress in the kitchen and asked, "How did you know I had magic?"

"Alastor told me."

"Right."

"I've also seen you in the fight rings before."

"You what?" I bristled.

"Relax," he grabbed the same bottle from the counter, "I wasn't a master or anything. I was running the bets and gambling." That didn't make me feel any better. How could he just let them keep those fights going? His appearance gave me my answer.

So I changed the subject. "How would you suggest I ask you for different clothes? These aren't exactly right for me." I looked down at the elongated skirt.

He let out a sigh and pulled out a phone. My heart quickened. "Find what you're looking for and screenshot what you want. Then tell me your size."

"You know, that's not exactly how sizes for women work," I tried. "One size in one store could be very different than another."

"Then pick one store and tell me what sizes," he replied. My heart dropped and I took the phone from him.

****

I gave myself a week before my first escape attempt. I had to know Alastor's schedule and Husker's routine. I also need to ensure they weren't bracing for my first attempt. A week should be long enough, surely.

Alastor left in the mornings before or right at dawn and returned at some point well after dusk. Husker preferred to be in the living room or on the outside porch drinking alcohol. I guessed that he had some kind of magic that kept the effects of alcohol to a minimum so he could still keep an eye on me. I made it a habit to join him on the porch most of the time, reading the one book I could think of off the top of my head for him to get.

Alastor had made two more rules since my arrival. Well, one official rule and one implicit. The explicit one was no unsupervised internet access. No phone, no computer, nothing. I had no connection to the outside world.

The implicit rule was my clothing style. Any 'modern' clothing that was even close to being considered immodest disappeared from my wardrobe the next day. This meant he was keeping a close eye on me despite his rules to keep as much distance between the two of us as possible. I had to be careful. I didn't know what type of magic he was using and if he could see me at any point.

But I was ready.

It was a blue evening, the setting sun hidden behind a raincloud. The rain hadn't quite reached us yet but the strong gusts were moving the clouds closer and closer. As much as I didn't want to escape on a rainy night, it was the best chance I had. Muddy conditions and rain made it difficult to see and operate in. For most people. Most likely for Full mages who were used to having everything handed to them on a plate thanks to their power.

Husker had just finished another one of his whiskey bottles and went inside for another. I whispered an apology as the door closed and I stood up from my chair. I used my magic to push against the wood from underneath so they didn't creak. I jumped the stairs and as soon as my feet hit the grass I ran.

I pushed wind against my back to help carry me across the field. My heart pounded in my ears as I reached the tree line and disappeared behind the closest large tree. I sank to the ground and peaked around the tree. I didn't see Husker yet.

I turned and ran further into the forest. The wind from the storm made it easy to maneuver through the dense forest. I had no idea where the closest town or city was but I needed to put as much distance between me and the house as possible.

There was no notion of time as I kept running. My legs burned and chest hurt but I didn't dare stop until I could barely stand. I pushed through the pain and veered off to the side, hoping they would search in the other direction. The rain had started and trees bent against the strong winds, pushing back as best they could. I took this as my cue to find a hiding spot until the storm cleared up.

I picked one of the trees and started pulling up the dirt and roots. I would dig myself a little burrow and wait out the storm. The wind pulled aggressively on my clothes and hair. It felt incredibly strong for a storm and it made my blood run cold. I frantically looked around in search of the bright red of Alastor's coat or Husker's wings. This wasn't natural wind. This was from magic. They were searching for me.

The trees practically uprooted themselves as the wind pushed against them, opening the forest floor to the sky for a moment. I briefly saw Husker's red wings in the sky before the trees cut my line of sight. I dove to the side before the trees opened again. I felt like a field mouse running from a coyote in the field grass.

Husker dropped through the canopy and locked eyes with me. He curled his claws inward and the tree branches reached for me. I pushed against them with wind and snaked through their reaches. I stayed as close to the ground as I possibly could. I needed someplace to defend, somewhere that he couldn't reach me. The forest was proving to be a horrible idea.

Wind and fire were my best friends as I evaded and burned the branches that grabbed at me. Husker went back to the skies and attempted to create a wall with the trees. A branch caught my foot and dragged me towards its trunk. I opened the earth near it and pulled its roots up. I used the storm and pushed the tree all the way down. I jumped into the ditch and pulled the roots back over me, partially covering me from the sky. Husker flapped overhead, arms crossed.

I dug into the earth and filled it up behind me. The further down I went the farther I was from the reach of the trees. Several times he tried to catch me with the roots but he couldn't see me anymore. I had broken his line of sight. That's how you defeat a Full mage, I realized. If the mage couldn't see you, then they didn't know what they were doing.

I picked a random direction and started tunneling again. I didn't get far, though, as I realized my great fault. I had filled most of the earth behind me and it cut off my airway. It was freezing this far down and I was lacking oxygen. I was suffocating. I was already sweating and exhausted but not I was truly fighting for my life.

Praying that they were digging after me in the original spot, I start tunneling back up. Going up was far easier than going down but I was already exhausted, physically, mentally, and magically. I had to take several stops, struggling to breathe.

After what felt like an hour, I reached tree roots. I grabbed hold of one and used the last of my magic strength to pull myself through the dirt. I clambered through the dirt and sucked in the fresh air. I frantically looked around, half expecting Husker to jump on me from behind. But he was nowhere in sight. The light rain had turned into a downpour but the tree I was under gave me enough shelter from it.

I looked around for several moment before collapsing against the trunk. I took deep breaths of the sweet fresh air and let the rain drops patter on my face. Had I done it? Were they digging after me or looking elsewhere for my tunnel exit? It didn't matter. I just needed a few minutes to recover.

"Well done."

My breathing caught in my throat. I looked up to see Alastor leaning against the tree staring down at me. His smile was still plastered on his face and the sarcasm was heavy. I scrambled to my feet and backed away from him.

"I must say I'm impressed that you managed to evade Husker but I'm sorely disappointed that you can't follow simple instructions." He was leaning forward enough this he was at my eye level and creeping towards me.

“I'm disappointed you thought I would just stay put like a pet," I returned with heavy breathing. I was so tired. I didn't know if I had the energy to run from him.

He chuckled at my retort. "I knew you would attempt to run. You watched my schedule. You knew I wouldn't be back until later. I know exactly how your mind works."

“Do you, now?" Using my peripherals, I willed the roots from the nearest tree to uproot and wrap around his legs, making sure not to touch him yet. "Then you'll know that a cornered animal fights back until they die." I snapped the roots tightly around him. He looked down and I ran. I was so tired but desperation kept my blood boiling in all my fights.

I used the strong wind and rode it into the sky. I threw myself as high as I could and looked around. It was nothing but trees. No town, no city, no house, absolutely no sign of humanity. I was in the middle of nowhere.

I dropped into the trees and hide among the branches, eyes desperately scanning the ground. I leaned back to sit on my heels but the strength in my arm had disappeared. I lost my grip on the branch and fell backwards, hitting branches on my way down.

I landed hard on my back and felt a crack run through my spine. I sucked in a gasp of air and stared up at the gray sky. I gripped at the wet grass and tried to pull my strength back in. Alastor appeared above me a moment later, smiling down at my paralyzed body. He knelt beside my head so his ugly yellow smile came closer to my face.

"This suites you," he said, "this desperation. You're trying so hard to escape no matter what it does or if it kills you." He pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Unfortunately for you, it matters to me because we share the same fate."

"Fuck you."

His smile lessened slightly. "I'll add another rule for you to follow." He grabbed my throat and hoisted me to my feet. His claws dug painfully into my skin until I could feel my blood soaking my shirt. He pushed me against a tree and leaned in close to my face. I pulled on his wrist and tried not to cough in his face. "Rule number five. Never speak to me in such a way again." He paused. "Words like that are unbefitting for a woman."

"You can..." I struggled to speak clearly, "you can...keep me here but...but I'm...but I will not play...play by your rules." My heart was racing as his grip tightened even more so. He dies if you die. He dies if you die. I repeated in my head.

He let go of me and I fell face first into the ground. I gasped and coughed up spit as I rubbed my throat. "Give it time." I saw his feet walk around to stand in front of me. "I can be very persuasive."