#full-on panic sets in for a moment before i get back in touch with reality and remember computers don't just

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Prompts, you say? What about this post I made 🤣

https://www.tumblr.com/v88sy/756596064088391680/nothing-just-watching-the-9-1-1-episode-where?source=share

"Nothing, just watching the 9-1-1 episode where Chimney thinks he lost Maddie's engagement ring in the city dump and realizing I need something like that for Tommy, hbu"

Thank you for the prompt @v88sy I hope I did it justice ❤️🥰 Now also on Ao3...link at the bottom.

***

Tommy was no Clipboard Buck, but between his childhood and the army, he had definitely learned to be efficient. So when it came to proposing to Evan, he had everything meticulously planned out. Every detail was in place, every moment accounted for. Tommy couldn't help but smile to himself as he went over the plan one last time muttering to himself as he checked each step. Evan wasn't going to know what hit him.

Satisfied, Tommy reached for the ring box to practice his proposal one more time. But as he opened it, his heart stopped. There was no ring inside.

Tommy felt his heart race as panic set in. How could he have lost the ring? It was perfect - a black tungsten band with a sleek blue stripe running through it. He had spent weeks choosing it, making sure every detail was just right. The engraving inside, 'My Evan', had been his final touch.

His mind raced, trying to retrace his steps. When was the last time he had seen it? Where could it have possibly gone?

Tommy took a deep breath, forcing himself to think logically. He couldn't let this derail everything. He had faced worse challenges before, surely he could handle a misplaced ring. But as he began to search, a nagging worry persisted - what if he couldn't find it in time?

Tommy's mind raced as he tried to recall the ring's last known location. "Where did I see it last? Where did I have it?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Suddenly, realization dawned on him. "Oh my God," he gasped. He had taken it to work because he was worried about Evan stumbling onto it during his 48-hour shift at home. The memory came flooding back - he had taken it into the helicopter and shown it to Lucy.

A new wave of panic washed over him. Was it still in the chopper? Or worse, had he lost it on one of their calls? The possibility of the ring lying somewhere in the city, lost during a rescue operation, made his stomach churn.

"Oh God," Tommy whispered, the full weight of the situation hitting him. He needed to get back to the station, and fast. The clock was ticking, and his perfect proposal hung in the balance.

Tommy raced to Harbor, his heart pounding. As soon as he arrived, he made a beeline for his locker, frantically searching every pocket and crevice. The empty ring box in his pocket seemed to mock him as he searched.

"Hey, has anyone seen a ring? About this big, black with a blue stripe?" he called out to his coworkers, trying to keep his voice steady. A chorus of shaken heads and apologetic looks answered him.

With growing desperation, Tommy headed for his chopper. He searched every inch of the aircraft, checking under seats, in compartments, and even in the most unlikely nooks and crannies. He tore apart the interior, his usual respect for the machine overshadowed by his urgent need.

But as he stood back, surrounded by displaced equipment and opened compartments, the reality sank in. The ring itself was nowhere to be found.

Tommy leaned against the helicopter, closing his eyes in defeat. He pulled out the empty ring box, staring at the velvet indent where the perfect ring should have been. The proposal he had planned was in jeopardy, and he was running out of options.

Tommy's mind raced, recounting yesterday's calls. Four. There had been four calls.

A cliff rescue, two life flights, and an organ transport. He distinctly remembered having the ring during the first three calls, even recalling how he'd absentmindedly touched his pocket to ensure it was still there.

But the last one? The life flight from the beach? Tommy's stomach dropped as uncertainty crept in.

"Shit!" he muttered, then louder, "Fuck!" The possibility hit him like a ton of bricks. Did he lose it in the sand?

The image of the ring, lying lost and buried in countless grains of sand, made him feel sick. If it had fallen out there, finding it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

How could he possibly find it in time? And how was he going to propose to Evan without the ring he'd so carefully chosen?

Tommy took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. His thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before he pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answered. "Hey, Tommy. What's up?"

"Howie?" Tommy's voice was a mix of desperation and hope. "I need your help. You don't happen to have access to a metal detector, do you?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "A metal detector? That's... an unusual request. What's going on, man?"

Tommy closed his eyes, dreading having to explain his predicament. "It's a long story, but I think I might have lost something important on the beach during a call yesterday. Something small, made of metal, and incredibly important."

He could almost hear the gears turning in Howie's head. "Wait, is this about what I think it's about? The thing you showed me last week?"

"Yeah," Tommy admitted with a sigh. "That's the one. So, about that metal detector?"

"I don't have one," Howie replied, sounding apologetic, "but maybe Eddie does? Chris went through a pirate buried treasure phase a few years back."

Tommy's heart sank for a moment, but Howie quickly continued, his voice brightening, "But hey, I'll help you look, and I'm sure everyone else will too. We've got your back, man."

A wave of relief washed over Tommy. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear those words of support.

"Thanks, Howie," Tommy said, his voice thick with gratitude. "I really appreciate it. Could you maybe call Eddie about that metal detector while I finish checking here?"

"On it," Howie assured him. "Don't worry, Tommy. We'll find that ring. Operation 'Save the Proposal' is officially underway."

As Tommy hung up, he felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe there was still a chance to salvage his plans.

****

"Alright team, fan out," Athena's authoritative voice rang out across the beach. She stood at the center of a very determined group.

Bobby stepped forward, naturally taking charge alongside his wife. "We've got two metal detectors. Eddie, you take yours. Hen, you're on the one Athena brought from the station."

Eddie nodded, already adjusting the settings on his detector, while Hen powered up the police-issued one. Chimney and Ravi stood ready with shovels, as Lucy prepared the sifters.

Tommy looked at his assembled friends with a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. He never expected his proposal plans to turn into a search and rescue mission, but he was touched by their willingness to help.

Athena turned to him, her eyes focused and determined. "Tommy, you said this is approximately where you think you lost it?"

Tommy nodded, gesturing to the area around them. "Yes, it was during that life flight call yesterday. We landed somewhere in this vicinity."

Bobby added, "Alright, people. Let's grid this area and start searching. Those without detectors, use the shovels and sifters. That ring isn't going to find itself."

As the team spread out, Tommy's phone buzzed with a text from Maddie: "Buck is thoroughly distracted thanks to your niece. Take all the time you need. Good luck!"

The beach had transformed into a scene of organized chaos. For hours, the team had combed through the sand with meticulous determination. Metal detectors beeped incessantly, shovels dug, and sifters shook as they searched every inch of the designated area.

Their efforts hadn't been entirely fruitless. A small pile of found objects grew steadily: over three dollars in assorted coins, a set of car keys that had probably ruined someone's beach day, a pair of military dog tags that Eddie carefully set aside to be returned, and even a retainer that made everyone grimace.

Tommy watched his friends work tirelessly alongside him, a mix of gratitude and growing despair churning in his gut. He appreciated their effort more than he could express, but with each passing minute, his hopes of finding the ring – and salvaging his proposal plans – dwindled.

As the sun dipped towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the beach, the reality of their situation began to sink in. The fading light made their search increasingly difficult, and the team's movements grew slower.

Eddie was the first to voice what they were all thinking. "Tommy," he said gently, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we're losing daylight. We might have to call it for now."

Tommy looked out at the darkening beach, his heart heavy. The weight of disappointment settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

"We can come back tomorrow," Eddie continued, trying to inject some hope into his voice. "First thing in the morning. The light will be better, and we'll have fresh eyes."

Tommy nodded, unable to find his voice for a moment. When he finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "Yeah," he managed, the single word carrying all his devastation.

The team gathered around Tommy, their faces a mix of sympathy and determination. Even though they hadn't found the ring, their support was unwavering.

As they began to pack up their equipment, Tommy couldn't help but wonder: how was he going to face Evan now? The perfect proposal he had planned now seemed impossibly out of reach, lost somewhere in the vast expanse of sand beneath their feet.

Tommy trudged through the front door, his shoulders slumped with defeat. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the sight of Evan sitting at their kitchen table, practically vibrating with excitement.

Before Tommy could even process what was happening, Evan leapt up and threw his arms around him. "Yes, yes!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy.

Caught off guard, Tommy returned the embrace instinctively, his mind racing to catch up. "Well, not that I'm complaining about the warm welcome," he said, a confused smile tugging at his lips, "but yes to what?"

Evan pulled back slightly, his face beaming with happiness. He lifted his left hand, and there, prominently displayed on his finger, was the very ring Tommy and their friends had spent the entire day searching for.

Tommy's jaw dropped, his eyes widening in disbelief. "How... what... where did you find that?" he stammered, a mix of emotions swirling through him – relief, confusion, and an overwhelming surge of love for the man in front of him.

Evan's smile, if possible, grew even wider. "First, I believe you owe me a proper proposal, Mr. Kinard."

All of Tommy's planned words flew out the window as he sank to one knee, his heart overflowing with emotion. Looking up at Evan, his eyes shining with love, he said:

"Evan, baby, love of my life. Come with me to our wedding?"

Evan burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling with joy as he recognized the callback to their second chance coffee date nearly two years ago.

"Of course," Evan replied, his voice thick with emotion, eyes sparkling with unshed happy tears. He reached down to cup Tommy's face in his hands. "This ally is yours forever."

As Tommy rose to his feet, they fell into each other's arms, both laughing and crying at the same time. The proposal might not have gone according to Tommy's original plan, but in this moment, with Evan in his arms, it felt absolutely perfect.

After a moment, Tommy pulled back slightly, a mix of joy and curiosity on his face. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. But first, you've got to tell me - how on earth did you find the ring?"

Evan's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You're not going to believe this," he said, barely containing his laughter. "I found it in the washing machine."

Tommy's jaw dropped. "The washing machine?" he repeated incredulously.

Evan nodded, grinning widely. "Yep. I was doing laundry earlier today, and when I went to transfer your work clothes to the dryer, there it was, just sitting in the bottom of the washer. Must have fallen out of your pocket."

Tommy groaned, half laughing, half embarrassed. "You mean to tell me that while I had the entire team combing the beach with metal detectors, the ring was here the whole time?"

"The entire team?" Evan asked, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Oh, this I've got to hear."

Tommy pulled Evan close, pressing their foreheads together. "It's a long story," he murmured. "But we've got the rest of our lives for me to tell it."

Evan smiled softly. "I like the sound of that," he said, leaning in for a kiss.

As their lips met, Tommy couldn't help but think that sometimes, the best laid plans go wrong for all the right reasons.

Now also on Ao3! ⬆️

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Heyyy! Me again (●’◡’●)ﾉ

So my request is how the goths would take care of reader when they are having a tic or panic attack! How would they react?

I’d like it to be more platonic then romantic but if you want you can do romantic💗

Anyways! I can’t wait to see it!!!! (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

Hey you!

I decided to go with a panic attack because I have never experienced a tic attack and didn’t want to get some things wrong!

Warnings: panic attack mention, knife mentions

Without further ado,

The Goths Helping You Through a Panic Attack {PLATONIC}

Michael:

- Michael is so sweet when he comes across you during a panic attack

- He’s already on the floor beside you, asking you what you need and gently rubbing your back to ground you back to reality

- Whatever made you upset, he promises that he’ll do something to get rid of the problem

- Makes you do breathing excercises with him until your breathing evens out

- Michael keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, and he tries to distract you by talking about all the trouble you two have gotten into over the course of your friendship

- When you start laughing at a particular story about burning down a certain store and ridding South Park of the “Vampire Disease” temporarily, he laughs along with you, and you both spend a moment just thinking and laughing about your younger years

- He asks you if you’d like to talk about what caused the panic attack. If you do decide to tell him, he’ll help you through whatever it is your going through

- If not, then he just nods and tells you that you can always talk to him if you needed to

- He’s a good friend, and always will be your best friend

Henrietta:

- SWEET BABY GIRL

- She’s very much like Michael, doing what she can to just be near you and let you know everything is okay

- She’s gotten you water, some light snacks, and pain medicine in case you developed a headache from the crying and sore muscles from the body spasms

- Henrietta has been there before, so she knows exactly what to do in this situatuon to help you feel better

- She puts on one of your favorite movies/shows to help distract you

- She also never stops letting you know that she’s right there and that you’re doing okay, you just have to breathe

- Once you’ve calmed down, like Michael, she asks if you would like to talk about it

- Depending on your answer, she’ll sit there and listen or she’ll make plans to have a girl’s day (she gagged saying that)

- Henrietta is a girl’s best friend

Pete:

- Pete isn’t very well versed on Panic Attack 101

- So when he notices you’ve completely shut down and are in the beginning process of a panic attack, he’s frantically calling his Uncle and Henrietta for some advice on how to care for you in this state

- He googles the best way to help someone out of a panic episode, suggesting things to you every now and then with his own panicked tone

- Finally, he sets his phone down, takes a deep breath, and just talks to you

- He talks about random stuff, things he’s seen, things he’s watched, what he had for dinner last night

- Every now and then offering you a question to answer, which actually helps to pull you out of your own mind

- After you’ve settled down, he gives you a blanket and a pillow and leaves you on your own, letting you rest after your attack

- While you’re resting, he makes you some snacks and a drink, and begins extensive research on how to be prepared next time this happens

- He hates seeing his friends in pain, he just cares about them so much 😩

Firkle:

- You were at school in the gym when your panic attack hit

- Firkle was with sitting beside you, not really paying attention to anything other than the chunk of wood and pocket knife in his hands

- He looked up when he heard your breathing become rapid, quickly putting his carving things away and putting his full attention on you

- He’s talking to you the whole time, touching you every now and then to signal he was there and that you weren’t alonr

- If anyone’s staring, he’s quick to pull his knife out again to threaten them

- He doesn’t force you to, but he suggests going to the nurse’s office so you don’t have to be gawked at

- After you’ve calmed down, he all but forces you to talk to him so he can help (read as destroy) with your problem

- Poor buddy hates seeing his only friend so upset, he’ll do whatever he can to help you feel better 🥺

[nella09archive]

Marriage. 81

Chapter 81: Dad I have a problem!

The moment we sat down for lunch I sense that Gohan was flying at full speed home. Is something wrong? He didn’t answer. I told Chichi was almost home, and she set another plate down. She said she was wasn’t expecting him till dinner. So, something must be up. The moment he walked through the doors he went straight to his room. I put my plate down, and went to go check on him. I knocked on his door, and he told me to go away. I don’t like this. I came in anyway, and he was face flat on his bed. “What’s the matter, Gohan?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Gohan.” He raised his face, and looked at me. His face was all red, and looked embarrassed about something. I walked over to him. “Gohan, tell me what’s wrong.” He laid back down, and mumbled into his pillow. “Gohan, speak up.”

He sat up, and he quickly pulled his pillow over his lap. His face was becoming redder by the second. He wasn’t look up at me, and he was silent for a good while. He then looked to the door, and he went from red to pale. I looked towards the door, and there stood Chichi and Goten. I told them I got this and closed the door. I then pulled Gohan’s desk chair and sat down. “I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s the problem. So, take all the time you need to tell me what’s wrong.”

…

Today we were going bowling. Sounds interesting. Seeing everyone go before me gave me an idea what I was supposed to do. When it was my turn, I held the ball a little too hard, and it cracked a bit. After a few rounds I was starting to get it. I was having a ton of fun. We only stood an hour, and then we were off to a different location. We were passing a book store, and I couldn’t resist wanting to see inside. “Once a nerd boy, always a nerd boy.” We all laughed, as I took a look around. A book on quantum physics caught my eye, but the price tag was way more than I could afford.

I got sad, and was about to put it back, until Videl took it out of my hands. I was going to question her, till I saw her run to the cash register. She can’t be serious. I tried to stop her, but it was too late. She brought the book, and handed to me. I was just speechless. How could I ever thank her? I was overjoyed and grateful. How could I say thank you? I basically was shutting down. And when I came back to reality my lips were wet. Videl was even holding her lips. Did I just… did I just… kiss her? I felt my face burning.

I covered my mouth in shock. That was our first kissed, and I completely blacked out. I was between angry at myself, and embarrassed at the whole situation. I don’t know what to do. What do I say? What am I supposed to do? My mind was racing, and I felt I was going to pass out. What stopped me was Videl held out the book to me, and was looking away. With shaking hands, I took the book, and said thank you.

We left the book store, I placed the book in my bag, and we continued walked. As we walked, I couldn’t look at Videl, without my face burning up. I can’t believe I actually blacked out and kissed her. As I tried to focus on walking, Sharpner comes out of nowhere and hits my shoulder. “Didn’t know you had it in your, nerd boy.” He was in a joking mood, but it just made me feel even more embarrassed.

“Hey, Videl. It’s that your first kiss? How was it?” That’s when panic shot through me and I wanted to run. When I looked down to Videl, her face was super red. I must admit I wanted to know if she at least like the kiss. Even if, I wasn’t fully aware of my actions. She didn’t respond, and it was making me nervous. Erasa kept insisting that she say something, but Videl just ended up punching my arm. What was that for? That kiss doesn’t count. I knew your blacked out. I want a real kiss. That actually made me happy. I couldn’t stop a smile from forming on my face.

We ended going to a park. Me and Videl was sitting down, and looking at through the new book. Our heads were almost touching, as we flipped through the pages. Being this close her scent was almost overpowering my senses. When I turned my face, to look at her, she did as well. I felt my face burn, and her face became red. It somehow became harder to breathe, and my mouth felt dry. I don’t who moved, but our lips was mere centimeters apart. Feeling her breath was nice, but I wanted more. The moment I felt my lips touching something soft, my whole body went to shock.

When we parted, I opened my eyes, that I didn’t realize I closed. When I did, she looked so dreamy. That’s when I felt a strange tightness, and it the whole moment. I felt extremely embarrassed by my body reaction, especially when I remembered where we were. At that I panicked and flew off at full speed. When I got home, all I wanted to do was escape to my room. I tried avoiding everyone. The moment I got my room, I closed my door and let myself drop on my bed. Not the best decision, since it made that hurt. But right now, I don’t care. I just embarrassed myself. Not once, but twice.

As I tried to forget about the embarrassment, all I could think about was Videl’s lips. Just my luck, dad is here. I just want to be left alone right now. Maybe I should take this chance to talk to him. As I sat up, I noticed Goten and mom at the door. There’s no way I’m going to tell dad with them listening. I already embarrassed myself enough today, and this is awkward enough. Thankfully dad got them to leave, and he closed the door. “I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s the problem. So, take all the time you need to tell me what’s wrong.” How am I going to start this conversation? Maybe do a comparison?

…

“What was your teenage years like?” Why was that the first thing he ask? How am I supposed to answer? Well let’s see what I can do.

“I mostly was training a lot. But something tells me you’re not asking about that. Is there something you want to know?” He nods, and ask me about this thing called puberty. “Uh? I never heard that word before. What does it mean?” He tells me when our bodies go through changes. Changes from child to adult. Oh! He means that! Oh boy. Is it me or did the room getting hotter? “Well, before I met your mother again, I did notice I was going through things I didn’t understand. Are you asking about that?” He nods, and his face is super red. This really isn’t going to be easy.

I told him how after months training with Mr. Popo, I started smelling this weird scent. After that weird things started happening. Like how whenever I got extremely angry, or frustrated, I just thought of the weird scent and it calm me down. Or how sometimes I thought I was going crazy whenever I heard giggles whenever I dreamt of the scent. Even how Mr. Popo had to make me train my mind to forget the scent. “Wait! Why?”

“Something about focusing my mind better.” He had a confused face. “It felt forever to forget that scent. Now the weird part about it all. When it came to the day before the tournament, I caught a whiff of that scent and I thought I was going crazy.” I then told him how I met his mother again. And confirm what the guys said, and even added how I views everything. “It was really the first time I was ever interested in a girl. It was the first time I actually gave notice to a girl. You can easily say I wasn’t the brightest growing up. I practically raised myself.” He looked shock.

“So, wait. How old were you when this all started?”

“I think I was 15, almost 16.”

“What happened after the tournament?” Oh boy. This is going to be tricky.

“I almost killed a guy for looking at your mom.” Now he looked shock. “Yeah. Since I was done fighting for a while, and was going to marry soon, I was trying to figure out myself. I always didn’t put much thought into anything that wasn’t fighting. But something about your mom changed that, and I didn’t understand why. You can easily say your mom drove me crazy, and confused me to no end. I didn’t even know what love meant. All I knew was fighting. Pretty much, a good amount of what I know now is thanks to your mom.” We both smiled. “Did that help?” He nod his head. “What brought all this up?”

“Me and Videl were in a book store. I saw a book I wanted, but couldn’t afford. I was going to put it back, but she took it and bought it for me.” He held out the book, and he had a very big smile. “I felt overwhelm at how happy I was. And was overthinking how I’ll ever repay her. I blacked out, and when I came to, I had kissed her.” Oh. I waited to see if there was more, and there was. “She said it didn’t count as a first kiss, because she knew I blacked out. Then we were at a park, looking through the book together. We ended up kissing. It made me react and I felt embarrassed, when I remembered where we were. So, in a panic I rushed home.” React? React. Re… OH!

I couldn’t help snicker behind my hand. “My little Gohan really has grown. Don’t give me that face. Just don’t let it make you go crazy.”

“How?” Damn it! “How did you not go crazy?”

“Your mother unknowingly calm me down. Also, she kneed me in the chest.” I started laughing at that memory. “The next day she gave me the talk.” We both started laughing. “Feeling better now?” He nodded. “Good, because she’s downstairs.” He turned red. “You either come out your room on your own, or I’ll drag you. Pick.” He got up so fast, he was waiting by the door. I ruffled his hair before we left his room.

…

After talking with dad, I started feel better. Not exactly what I had in mind, but it made me feel better. When I found out Videl was downstairs, I was between happy and nervous. When dad ruffles my hair, I calm down a bit. Time to brace myself. Might get yelled at for leaving like that, but it’ll be ok. When we got downstairs, I was met with a punch to the face. “Ow. Sorry.” I was then pulled by my collar, that left me inches from her face.

“Don’t do that again.” She then let me go. That’s when I remembered we were in front of my parents and kid brother. I started to feel embarrassed, and then felt I was being pushed. When I finally realize we were outside, panic started to sink in. “Oh no you don’t! Don’t black out again!” She then pulled me along. We soon ended up at the field I gave her flying lessons. “Why do you panic a lot?” She looked concerned.

“Do you really want to know?” She nods. “I really don’t know. Since I was a kid, I was always timid and easily frighten. Then all of sudden my unknown uncle beats my dad, kidnaps me. Then my dad dies and I’m kidnapped again. Then force to live on my own, in the middle of nowhere, for 6 months. Then got beat as a form of training for another 6 months.” I don’t know when but I had started pacing back and forth, and Videl was sitting down. “I went to another planet. Saw a lot of death, almost died. Let’s see what else? Oh, some guy from the future tells me my dad is going to die, AGAIN.”

“Wait! Again? I got your dad came back now. But how many times your died?”

“Two. First one I was 3, the second was during the cell games.” Oh. “Yeah.” I was so focus on pacing I failed to realize that Videl had got up. It’s when I felt arms around me that I stopped pacing. I hugged her back. “Did I almost mention that I have over protective parents.”

“You sheltered, traumatize boy. You want ice cream?” Yeah. “I’m buying, so you could get as much as you want.”

“I can’t do that.”

“If you don’t, you’ll make me sad.” But I won’t be able to repay you. “You’re my boyfriend, that’s good enough. Besides.” I looked down at her. “You’re stuck with me, so deal with it.” We started to laugh. After that we enjoyed the rest of the day at an ice shop. We even shared a few Sundays and shakes. It was super fun, especially seeing her smile. I wonder how I could do that, without her spending money on me. I’m going to everything I can to make her happy. That’s when a thought hit me. Is that how dad is with mom?

------

Ch80

[keeps-ache]

:))))))

[stanmammon]

Lurking [Beelzebub]

A/N: TW for noncon, it’s consensual non consent! 

You were expressly told not to head into any creepy darkened room, but you had never been one to listen.

You can only hear the sound of your shaky breathing as you pressed yourself against the wall, whimpering when your hand touched something unfortunately slimy on the wall. The masked demon had only loomed ominously behind you, a single light illuminating his imposing stature, but you hadn’t stayed to exchange pleasantries. A shiver ran down your spine as you worried he’d hear the rapid beating of your heart, holding your hand to your chest and sucking in a sharp breath in hopes of adequately refilling your lungs.

The breath is totally knocked out of you when you find yourself thrown to the ground, quickly getting on your hands and knees in another attempt to keep moving forward. There’s a heavy boot on your ass that kicks you back down and you fumbled onto the floor, going to get up once more when you feel an impossibly heavy weight lay itself on your back. You almost feel like you’re about to be smothered to death, wiggling in a desperate attempt to free yourself from the demons solid grip despite the feeling you had in the pit of your stomach that you wouldn’t be leaving his arms of your own volition.

You turned your head to see your captor and are shocked by the sight of orange hair.

“Beel!”

“Your soul… it smells good…” The feeling of his hot breath on your ear made you whine unhappily, turning your face away as though you had a choice at all. He might be adorned in a ragged looking doctor’s uniform but you could see how thick his arms were, another shaky whimper slipping past your lip as he pressed his nose into your neck. “Give it to me.”

“Isn’t there… Isn’t there anything else I could give you? You like food, don’t you?” 

“…I’m hungry for something else.”

It was then that you became glaringly aware of something hard prodding at your ass. Your momentary panic caused him to press his chest harder against your back, a warning that if you kept moving you would suffer the consequences. He licked his lips as you let out pathetic plead, eating up each and every reaction you give him as he forcibly spread your legs. He kept one hand solidly on your back while the other tore at your clothing with an odd precision, heart leaping in your chest when you feel what must be a scalpel cutting out pieces of your outfit. You feel his dick prodding at you again, this time lining up with your entrance, giving you only one more second offer up another plea for mercy.

Your captor had no such inclination.

His dick was proportionate with the size of him which meant it was thick, and he was none too gentle about the way he thrusted himself inside you. You felt the weight off your back for a moment, glancing back to see he was admiring the way his cock looked pushing inside you. You feel stupid for getting embarrassed over this of all things, gasping out in surprise as he leaned down to put his chin on your shoulder. He was moving steadily after his first few wild thrusts, turning your head with his free hand and shoving his tongue into your mouth; he refused to let you move away from him, the wet appendage causing a mixture of your drool and his to slide down your mouth as you felt your body slowly giving in to him.

You’d never felt so full before.

You understood why he was seeking that feeling out now more than ever.

Your lips remained locked with his and he felt you finally give in to him, spreading your legs yourself without trying to close them on him anymore. There was a shock of excitement, he felt even more turned on now that you had completely given yourself up to him, the predator fully making his prey submit. You’re wet and tight around him, an addicting feeling, one that only made him feel even hungrier. He wished he had the chance to devour you properly but this was better, though it had nothing on how delicious your soul would be when he swallowed it whole.

Your head feels fuzzy but the familiar feeling of liquid dripping between your legs brings you back to reality, lazily turning your head to see that the masked man had unmasked himself. He was dripping sweat and looked disoriented himself, wiping his sweat from his brow before he settled his worried gaze on you.

“…How was that?” You let out a pleased sigh at the sound of your lovers voice, rolling yourself over to face him as he had now pulled out of you, propped up by his elbows. You couldn’t help but giggle at the way this all must have looked, his bloody attire not matching the soft look on his face. “Did I fill you up? Or, well, I guess you’re the one who filled me up, huh?”

Beel is instantly embarrassed by how candidly you could talk about what had just occurred, not thinking much of sex normally but finding he was a bit of his depth when it came to roleplaying. He would do anything to make you happy, however, and the Devildom was the perfect place to set the scene for something like this. Still, he hoped he hadn’t been too rough on you, knowing once you were in a better lit area he’d look you over for any new wounds.

“I think we should definitely do this again, you were great, honey.” You caressed either side of his face lovingly, “Do you want me to take advantage of you next time? I can’t really win on strength alone but with some rope…”

Beel liked the sound of that, but maybe that was just because it was coming from you.

[dodo-begone]

Could you Not?

Pairing: Techno x Reader

Request: yooo remember a while ago when we were talking abt Techno hiding you from the yandere boys?? that would be hella neat to see ngl —

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: yandere, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, panic attack at end

A/n: yan!minors are mentioned, that’s why there’s a yandere warning.

The day was predestined to be great; a day full of sunshine and peace. So many potatoes would be tilled, the dog army would grow exponentially and other calming hobbies.

Now let’s be honest, that isn’t the reality of things at all. Nothing is ever nice and simple. Life always needs to throw a curveball at people; keeping them on their feet, on edge for their entire existence. Techno was no exception from this rule. His life had been plagued by tragedy and hardships. It made him calloused and desensitized towards the world and whatever challenges it had to throw at him. Though nothing could have really prepared him for what came next. Well he actually did, in a way. Similar in reasoning yet very different in the reaction and how the problem was presented to him.

Puffy stood at his door, struggling to hold someone the size of her. They were thrashing around, screeching to be released from their confines. She looked exhausted and beyond worried. There were few words to describe her state. Sadness painted her face like clouds painted the sky; it was evident with every feature of her face, every movement of her brow and reddening eyes. Pants escaped her lips and the struggling wasn’t helping her catch the escaping breaths.

The person Puffy was holding wasn’t any better. They looked malnourished, dirty, panicked, stressed. Those were just the obvious and quick observations. There were probably so many other hidden issues with this person. Honestly, Techno didn’t want to deal with them or Puffy. He was absolutely done dealing with people.

He’d have to get over it though, as Puffy asked him to care for this mystery person. She pleaded so much, saying that if they couldn’t stay with him, they’d be in terrible danger. Techno was her only option in protecting this person. There were some horrible people looking for the person in her arms and she couldn’t protect them on her own. Honestly he was only half listening. He really didn’t want to hear about another person’s sob story and how they so desperately needed his help. How they just couldn’t make it without his help. Occasionally Techno nodded or gave a “mhm” to indicate he was listening. Because that’s the polite thing to do, even if you aren’t listening. It shows you are listening and seems polite. Though he should’ve paid a bit more attention because the next thing he knew a fucking child was getting shoved into his arms.

They were so tiny that they could qualify as a child. So frail, too skinny, hair matted and looked too pale for their natural complexion. Horrified couldn’t even describe how he felt; he did not want to be holding this person, they looked so fragile and could be hurt so easily. Plus they were screaming and crying, still fighting to get out your captor’s grip, which was currently him. Distressed and crying people weren’t the most pleasant to be around especially when you’re a seven foot tall, socially awkward piglin hybrid.

Techno tried to return them to Puffy’s possession. She refused, pushing them further into his hold. She kept insisting that he let them stay with him, at least for a little bit. There was little time to prepare a place for them to stay and they needed the constant protection and some care. Techno kept arguing with Puffy, saying that he really didn’t want, need or have the time to care for them.

It wasn’t long when Puffy finally ended the argument with one phrase; “you still owe me an IOU.”

_______________________________________________

“So is this it,” Techno reluctantly asked, gently bouncing the slumbering stranger. It was and wasn’t surprising how worn out they ended up after the argument. Half-way through the arguing and accommodations, they finally calmed and soon fell asleep. Though they were violently shivering; this conversation couldn’t keep going like this. They both looked at them and looked back at each other.

“Yes. Please,” Puffy whispered, gently putting her hand onto their arm. “Please take care of them for now. You don’t have to care for them long. I just-i just need some time to set them up a place and some help. There were few options to go with and you were the best one.”

Silence settled over them once again. Techno sighed, building his resolve to care for another kid. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Puffy awarded Techno with one of the most relieved smiles he had ever encountered. She was visibly relaxed, not holding herself up like a puppet who’s tense strings were being tugged. “Now get going Puffy,” Techno ushered. “I can take it from here.”

With that, Puffy started her trek back home, through the unforgiving tundra. As Techno watched her walk away, he wondered how she managed it. How she could carry someone the size of herself for god-knows how long.

He couldn’t ponder long. The person in his arms was still out in the harsh cold and definitely not dressed or prepared for weather like this. A very vulnerable position. With that, he opened the door with his foot and brought the two of you inside.

There weren’t many places to lay someone down. The floor was an option, but it was probably super cold. Techno wasn’t too sure, but he also didn’t want to risk it at the moment. Scanning around reveals a small issue; Techno’s reading chair is the only place to sit that isn’t the damn floor. Crackling fire brought his attention to the welcoming presence of the hearth. So either the floor with the fireplace or the chair which was a decent distance from the fireplace. Was it really a question at that point?

Walking over to the fireplace, Techno tried to disturb the person as little as possible. He started to slowly place them onto the ground. They wouldn’t really notice if they were as exhausted as they looked. When they touched the ground, they stirred and groaned at the change in temperature. Swiftly Techno place them on the floor and held his hands up; a way of saying “okay i’m not touching it so it shouldn’t break now- don’t break”. After a few moments of stillness, Techno deemed himself to be in the “all clear”. With that, he walked off to a different part of the house. He had to start setting up a room for his new guest. And get them food and proper clothing-

A ruckus from the living quarters disturbed him. Oh god what was going on now? Without much thought, he ran to the noise. When he arrived, he frantically looked around. He was looking for anything, but more specifically a danger. But it was much the opposite.

There, at his front door, trying to get out like their life depended on it, was that stranger. Well, it wasn’t a stranger. He couldn’t keep forgetting that. It was ______. Though it was hard to do that; they looked so different. Panic seemed to just possess them; their eyes were wide and bloodshot and their face was even paler than he remembered them in their pale state. Which was an odd statement but it was oddly true. He hadn’t thought that you could get any paler, yet here you are proving him wrong.

You two were in a stare off- trying to figure out what to do. It would be somewhat hilarious if the situation wasn’t so serious; a person trying desperately to get out of someone’s house in some of the most comical positions while a seven foot piglin just awkwardly stared from the other side of the room. The semi-trance was broken by you. Tears started to fall down your face, body started to violently shake, and then you started to try and destroy the door with your body.

Techno was holding you in a heartbeat. Once again, you were dangling and struggling to get out of his grasp. Last time it wasn’t his grasp you were trying to escape, but it was all the same in the end. Your crying soon reverted back to sobbing and screams. Flinching, Techno contemplated just dropping you. Yet he couldn’t; you were trying to escape and that wasn’t a good idea.

Carrying you around the house was a challenge; you were swinging what little weight you could and it was working. He barely got to the other end of the room before he got fed up with your little tantrum. Without a second thought, he just dropped you like a bag of potatoes. The moment you hit the ground, you scrambled to get as far away as possible. That leads you to a corner. You kept an eye of him yet curled up so much. He couldn’t tell if it was because you were cold or scared.

“Please let me go back.”

That catches Techno off guard. It was obviously you voice; he wasn’t talking and you were the only other thing that could talk here. Yet it didn’t sound like you. Your voice was now so gravely, scratchy and heavy. Like you hadn’t properly talked in a while. Though your crying definitely wasn’t helping. Even taking that into consideration, you sound way worse than someone who is just crying and occasionally screaming.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, staring at you. Waiting for you to answer or proof that he was actually imagining stuff. It could’ve easily been a voice though-

“I said please let me go back,” you sniffled, turning to look at him more. Your eyes held such sadness, besides the tears. The yearning in them hurt. It was obvious you were missing something.

“Go back where,” Techno prodded. He tried his best to make it gentle so you wouldn’t close up again. So he slowly sat on the ground with you, scooting towards you as a pace you could easily stop.

“Back to my friends, obviously,” you stated, keeping a steady and guarded eye on Techno. “I want to go back home. Back to Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo an-and Purpled.” Suddenly you started to cry much harder. So hard it was practically impossible to speak. Only hiccups and gasps left your lips.

“Let me go, I won’t bother you again.” You kept repeating that phrase. Even rephrasing it, but it was muffled. Well not muffled, but extremely hard to hear through your crying. Techno let you keep saying that in hopes you tire of it, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. You only started to say it more clearly, louder, and more assertively. It was obvious you were bound and determined to go back to wherever the hell you were before.

“Hey kid,” Techno does his best to stop your babbling. The pleads had just digressed to nonsense, so it was more accurate to call that mess babbling. “I can’t do that.”

His answer wasn’t well received. It only made you sadder and madder; you even deployed the puppy dog eyes. You really wanted this.

“It’s not safe with them,” he reiterated. “You look sickly too. Did you not care for yourself with them?”

Silence consumed you; maybe now you were finally thinking more clearly.

A meek “no” left your lips. Realization seemed to hit you, at least somewhat. It was a step forward, and Techno was taking it wholeheartedly. Anything was progress and he just wanted this over. Some of the voices whispered that they wanted you to get better, but he ignored them.

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying here.”

[danddymaro]

Replay | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

A/N: Please, this is NSFW if you don’t like it, don't read it.

Thoughts are in italics and quotations // ‘ Example,’

Flashback are all in just Italics // Example

- I hope it’s understandable. It drifts from present time to the past event and goes back and forth for a moment.

Abbacchio using his stand for, Well, dirty purposes. So, he might be a little perverse here // sorry

word count: 1474

Replay

His lustrous, golden eyes were fixed on the sight of the (h/c) haired young woman, entranced by the manner her fingers desperately rubbed over the sweet, little spot that was certain to set her off.  

"A...ah…" she tried to speak, instead, drifting off into a sultry moan as her other fingers slid down to her needy hole, giving it the attention it'd yearned for before then.

“ Filthy..." he breathed, " You filthy whore… '' he said in a deep, low rumble, his eyes almost unblinking as he continued to take in the sight of the woman as she lay in display.

Far, deep within the recesses of his mind, he wondered who was more depraved out of the two.

Was it the desperate, perverse fool whose cock twitched and throbbed at the sight of a mere replay, becoming only relieved when fisted by a hand that was covered by a used pair of panties.

Or, was it the yearning whore squirming above the bedsheets, unable to keep still and so drunk in pleasure that she could barely speak.

" Who are you thinking of?" Leone half-whispered, asking her, yet receiving no response but yet another moan, this time hushed and so powerful, her voice failed her.

A small, fragile squeak was the only thing that could escape the back of her throat and it let him know how high she'd gone as a result of the self-indulging performance.

"You're having the time of your life, " he said with the same husky tone, watching as (f/n) did not spare a movement, everything she did serving for her own carnal pleasure.

"- You're loving it," he breathed, and it was then that her pace quickened, her hips rising up with desperation to meet imaginary thrusts that he knew she tried to vividly imagine simply by the way her (e/c) colored eyes hid behind tightly shut lids.

And, again, he wondered just who she thought about, the huffing man wanting to know just who brought her to that peak.

" Fuck me," she muttered softly, quivering as literal tears welled up in her (e/c) colored eyes as she murmured the words, wishing that she could somehow breathe the fantasy out into real life with each hot huff she mustered.

" Please...please…" she begged, breathlessly speaking, repeating the words over and over, sounding almost as repetitive as a scratched disk as she tried to envision just how he’d take her. Desperately, she tried to imagine his touch, attempting to fall into the fantasy of her desires so well that she could forget everything else in the world.

- Slowly, his entire body as it rocked to hers, every thrust slow and dragged, yet deep, and filled with the purpose of reaching the tender spots her fingers couldn't dive into.

"I want… please…"  she dumbly rambled, a thick shine glossing her bottom lip as her tongue slid over the shaking plumpness.

" Leone…" (f/n) added sweetly, the two fingers that were tasked with making quick dives into her wetness, stopping as they were about to come out, instead, parting, stretching her little hole right before his intently trained, golden gems.

"Shit," he grunted, " Shit, " he repeated again before swallowing down hard.

The sudden bit of surprise he felt was then washed away by the heavy title wave of pleasure that drowned him, leaving him teetering on the edge of release.

With a strong thrust upwards, she threw her head back onto the pillow, turning her head to take a  bite out of the fluffy cushioning in order to muffle a particularly desperate cry onto it, all while Leone hissed, almost unable to live through the sight without becoming fully undone.

It was then that his ears picked up on a distant knock, as well as a voice he knew was his own,

"(F/n) ?"Abbacchio asked her, speaking from the other side of the closed door as he waited just outside her room.

As he kept his eyes on the replay, Leone could see the recollection that soon set on her face as she heard him speak,

" L-l-leone?" She asked shyly,  her breathy, little murmur barely sounding as she struggled to even say his name, and as he watched her, he felt a small twitch to his heart.

' … how can you look so sweet right now?' He wondered, his eyes watching her flustered face before it went back down to her glistening folds. ‘How can you look so  damn cute when your making such a mess?’ he silently teased.

Momentarily, her fingers' movements became lax and ghosting, and her face became pensive. She seemed to be struck by the same pleasure, yet contemplative of her next move, clearly having a battle of morals.

' What's taking you so long?' he asked her, the man outside the door sounding annoyed but not enough to press on more. 

Because, sometimes, he was too lenient on her, letting her get away with so much more than anyone else could. And  he wished he could be just a bit more assertive with her.

But, he was terribly softhearted when it came to the pretty, little woman.

He found it difficult to lift his voice at her and at times, he couldn't even look at her directly without melting and becoming an easy sucker, willed and bent in whichever way she wanted.

 "Eh…I...Um…Ah!" Her free hand flew to clamp over her mouth to muffle the last bit of her moan while the other moved faster, leaving her right at the peak. Relentless, her body drove her to push further, to finally give it it’s awaited release.

The very hand then dragged down, joining the other while it repeatedly dove into her wetness.

With the same enthusiasm, her fingers rubbed her little clit, almost reaching her high.

"J..Just hearing him…" she murmured. "He...He's right there," She added brokenly, lazily skimming her eyes over to the door, where outside, the long haired man waited for her.

"Hmm? You alright in there?" He then asked her, growing concerned over the muffled response.

"Yes! " she answered back in a quick panic, her voice high pitched and wavering even as she tried to keep her preoccupation a secret.

'I have to stop…' (f/n) thought with a small shred of shame that creped up on her. 'But....' She then added quickly, 'But, Leone… Leone this is too much!' She went on, having made him the subject of many fantasies before, but never feeling as fulfilled by a fantasy than at that moment.

" I can finish, " she murmured selfish determination. "I ...I can..." she continued with the same greedy excitement.

Panting, she then rolled over, her ass high in the air as she continued to please herself, a little, excited wiggle to her hips that swayed her exposed ass to the observing man.

“Yes...Yes...Yes...” she repeatedly chanted into the cushioning bellow.

 “Fuck!” She cursed while her mouth pressed over the pillow, soon releasing a loud cry that was subdued by the support as her body raked by a powerful surge of electricity that visually shook her.

He cursed lowlily, unable to take more before he jerked his hips towards his jerking hand. It wasn’t long before the sweet remaining musk of her essence was masked by his thick spurts.

"I'm sorry Leone…" (f/n) said softly, " I just couldn’t help myself," She admitted, while slowly, her lower body slowly melted onto the mattress. " -And you'd just kill me if you knew," she giggled, the kittenish, little deviousness that shown during then making him smirk.

"...Or maybe fuck me into the mattress," She added while she stretched and mewled, and by then she  pressed her thighs together tightly.

‘Oh?’ he mused.

"Ah, I wouldn't mind," she murmured, " I wouldn't mind if you did," she admitted while, slowly, her actions caught up to her, and it was then that the full weight of her shame finally struck her.

" Come on (f/n)! Hurry up we don't have all day!" Another younger, much livelier voice interrupted.

Narancia huffed, "Fugo's been waiting in the car for a few minutes already and he's starting to get snappy, so quit jerking it and get your ass out there now!" He demanded, causing (f/n) to grow learned before she truly snapped into reality.

"SHUT UP!"  She screeched, immediately jumping up on her feet. 

She then scrambled off of the bed, quickly reaching for her clothes before frantically putting them back on.

" Don't say that!" She added with dismay, ready to jolt out of the door when Abbacchio stopped his replay.

The shallow breaths he took morphed into airy chuckles, as he took a seat on the mattress, his back soon falling onto the sweet-scented covers that retained the woman's signature aroma just after his stand disappeared.

[dokifluffs]

Pregnant | Osamu, Kenma, Akaashi, Sakusa

Pairings: Osamu X Reader (female), Kenma X Reader (female), Akaashi X Reader (female), and Sakusa X Reader (female)

Genre: fluff!!! Pregnant reader!!

Author’s Note: im having some v domestic vibes and baby fever so might as well share it with you all too! Happy reading~ 

Warning: all post time skip! Pregnancy (duh)

Pregnant | Iwaizumi, Bokuto, Atsumu

Osamu: 

Crickets chirped into the darkness of the clear summer sky, stars twinkling as far as the eye could see as his keys jingled in the door, the cool air conditioning greeting him as he stepped in

The plastic bag of steaming hot onigiris rustled with every step and move he made

You sent him a text asking if he could bring home some onigiris, craving for some especially since you had been home all day while he was at work before he would have to take off on maternal leave when your arriving son would be brought into the world

The kitchen lights were off but the living room lights and tv were still on playing a random house hunting show

He approached your sleeping body, laid on you side with a pillow in between your legs, your arm draped over the side of your belly, the other acting as your pillow  

He set the bag gently on the table and knelt down in the space between the table and the couch right in front of you

“Y/N, honey,” Osamu’s voice was as gentle as a summer evening breeze, the kind that just made anyone feel good as they relaxed on a grassy hill, taking in view of the colorful sky as the sun set in the distance

“I’m home,” he leaned close and pressed a kiss to your forehead

Seeing you after being away all day, it made him wonder what you did at home all day, how bored you must be, how tired you must be

He caressed your cheek, tilting his head to take your sleeping face at a better angle

“Y/N,” his voice was silky and light in a quiet singsong way, almost humming your name while speaking it as he grazed the back of his fingers over your plush, smooth cheek

You reached your hand from your belly to his, a small smile pulling at your lips as you brought in close to your nose and took a deep breath

What he did not expect was you biting into his hand

“Y/N, honey, wake up.,” he laughed as he carefully shook you awake, trying to pull his hand back

It didn’t hurt, more like you were nibbling on him but this was one, if not most, bizarre thing you had done in all of your pregnancy

“‘Samu~ welcome home,” you woke and smiled sleepily, reaching your arms up as he leaned in to meet you halfway

He helped you sit up and opened the bag of onigiris, some new and not even on the menu yet, before you could even ask about them

You sat close, leaning into his side as the two of you ate, the tv on more of a background sound before he turned it off, giving his undivided attention

“This is so good,” you spoke, mouth partially full with one of the new onigiris, your craving being satiated as always provided by your loving husband, Osamu

“Are ya sure?” He asked, a little serious but mostly joking. “It didn’t feel that way when you were chompin’ on me earlier.” He stuck his hand out with the lightest marks made by your teeth moments ago. “Were ya that hungry?” He rubbed your shoulder with his hand, taking another bite of his own onigiri

Your eating came to a cease, laughter coming out as you set your onigiri down in your lap to take Osamu’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” you said totally unbelievable with all the laughter and giggles erupting from you, it could only make Osamu smile himself hearing your laughter

He didn’t even realize how long he had heard it but it felt so good, it felt nostalgic that made him love you even more

“Did it hurt?” You traced your finger over his skin, looking up to him

“Nah, I’m jokin’, eat.” He traded his onirigi to his other hand so he could hand you yours from your lap

It was your craving after all

The two of you ate one after the other, sitting comfortably side by side as if time didn’t exist

It didn’t take long at all before the bag was empty but the two of you stayed put in the living room with both hungers satiated

The room filled with a comfortable silence as as your bodies melted together

Your hand rest over Osamu’s as he rubbed your belly, reality setting in for him, and even you, for the nth time since you announced your pregnancy

This was really happening

You were his wife, you were going to have his child, both your love for each other in a new life

He was going to have you by his side just like this and you were going to have him, just like this

And one day, there will be a tiny pair of feet in between and he couldn’t wait

Kenma: 

Your steps sounded louder and louder as you went down the stairs, feeding the insecurity of your looks now that your belly was swelling bigger as time went on, days and weeks, months passing to your due date to the newest addition of your family with Kenma

A new Kozume brought to the world :)

Time was ticking

The hem of your oversized t-shirt tickled your thighs as you walked waddled toward Kenma in the living room, the wooden floors creaking with every step, it just poked and prodded at your insecurities

You paused right in the middle, the couches a few strides away but you couldn’t move another step

The sight of your body in the tv was the cherry on top- your plumped up body, the clear weight gain, especially your stomach although you were pregnant

But still

You felt so much bigger, you even stayed off of social medias seeing your old pictures and your recent ones families had taken, posting them

The difference was so great, it made your heart race, a chilling panic ghosting through your body, raising goosebumps over your arms

“Y/N?” Kenma’s voice pulled your mind out of the clouded thoughts of your mind. “What’s wrong?” He paused his game, standing to his feet, over to you in his comfortable sweats and kodzuken shirt with a simple white aesthetic that was eye catching but not overbearing

“I’m so much bigger,” you looked to him with glistening eyes, visually upset over your weight gain from pregnancy but it was bound to happen to everyone who got pregnant. “I’m so ugly,” you felt disgusted, your voice cutting off at the end and you wanted to turn away, head back upstairs, and hide under the covers until tomorrow

“I guarantee you that you are not ugly,” he rubbed his finger to the back of your hand on your belly, a little thing he did as he asked “permission” to hold your hand before he took it into his own

“Come with me,” he led you over to the couch he sat at earlier, the gray leather couch

He sat leaning onto the arm rest and some pillows, his legs spread open and patted the open space between

“I won’t fit,” you shook your head, completely sure you were way too wide to fit in between Kenma’s legs

Kenma was very much a stick, pretty thin, not too much taller than you but this just seemed impossible for you, especially since it felt like you were double his weight and width despite it being not true at all

“You will,” he reassured

You hesitated before sitting down, biting back all your thoughts and reasons as to why you should sit somewhere else or you needed to be anywhere else so you didn’t have to feel this way

But Kenma was right

His legs were own both sides of you and he eased your back to his chest

“Wait, Kenma, no-“ you tried to sit up, only to unable to because of your belly

“I’m too heavy.” Heat rushed up to your head, your want, no, need to leave eating you from the inside

“You’re not. Relax with me tonight.” He brought his arms around your body, handing you his personalized switch with animal crossing opened knowing this was one of your favorites

“Just play,” his voice was soothing to your ears, calming your heart

As you ran his character around his island, the more Kenma gave you tips, making light fun of the way you played, your thoughts and fears about your body slowly began to dissipate

With your mind wrapped up in the game, the more you let everything go

He was always able to read others and analyze things well, encased in his shell from a young age of being an introvert

But there was something about you, along with Kuroo and Hinata and others, who were able to coax him out of his shell

You were so wrapped up in the game, you hadn’t even realized Kenma’s hands resting on your belly behind yours holding up the switch, occasionally rubbing it as he let out a gleeful hum with his chin resting on your shoulder, watching you play, pointing out things you may have missed or advice on what you could do to maximize profits

Akaashi: *S/N* = Story Name 

Akaashi’s hand was soft in yours as you excitedly led him up the stairs toward the finally finished nursery

He, along with the help of your father, painted the room a light beige color and when the paint finally dried, brought in all the furniture like the cribs, changing station

All that was left was for you to decorate it as much as you wanted and you absolutely made sure he saw none of it until now

You opened the door revealing a complete nursery, he didn’t know where to look first but most notable was the mobile above the crib- little owls hung and when turned on, they rotated in a circle that made it seem like they were flying

“Push that button,” you stood right beside him, holding his arm, your heart pounding in your chest out of excitement

And that was when he heard it- the lullaby from a music box he had gotten you when he proposed to you a couple years back. And here it was, a tune that you two’s child will be growing up hearing

The sound of the device was so soothing, it made akaashi feel like he was just meeting you last week and getting down on one knee to propose to you yesterday

“It’s our song, Keiji,” you rest your head on his shoulder. “And it’s going to be theirs.” You brought his hand up to your belly as he turned to you, his gaze never leaving you, his eyes trained to your smile as you looked down to your bump and the feel of his touch on you

The way your eyes shimmered when you looked up, the same smile he could never get tired of in his life, it made his heart swell so big in his chest

He leaned his head close and cupped your face, bringing his lips to yours. He had to show his love for you, to thank you for being with him in this life, thanking whoever or whatever brought you to his life

You certainly changed it and he wouldn’t do anything to change that

“What was that for?” You laughed, stealing another small kiss from his lips as he pulled away, his sea green eyes as enchanting as always when he opened them

“The song reminded me how much you truly mean to me, my love.”

It felt like you were in high school/ university all over again- his simple, straight-forward words that were always able to reduce you to a blushing mess

“What should we read them tonight?” Akaashi smiled as he knelt down in front of the little shelf filled with children books, mostly gifts from his and your mother, as you sat back on a small couch adjacent to the crib

“Anything,” you chimed from behind

With that, Akaashi chose S/N and took his seat beside you. You draped your legs over his and rest your head on his arm as he opened the book and began to read the story

It was as clear as you remembered from your own memory, the images and scenes from your own childhood playing so vividly in your mind

Akaash’s voice was so smooth as he read aloud, voicing the character(s) with ease, it naturally made you a bit lethargic yourself hearing this story

Guess bedtime stories still worked even tens of years later

As the story came to an end, as Akaashi read over the happy ending, his story came to a stop as you raised your head, gasping

“What, what is it?” He suddenly set the book to the table beside it as he sat on the edge of couch, turning to you as you stared down to your belly. “Are you hurt?” He began to grow a bit frantic, his panic growing when you didn’t respond

“No, no, no, Keiji, the baby moved,” you looked up to him, your smile slowly spreading on your face, melting away his fears as relief washed over him

“Look feel!” You snatched his hand and placed it on your belly and it was true

The little baby moved inside of your belly, kicking the side of your tummy right into Akaashi’s hands

The doctor suggested to begin doing activities with the baby such as well as movement being something that was going to happen soon

But neither of you thought so soon

You were wide awake at this point as you felt your child move inside, a sensation you’ve never felt before, only seen in videos

“Hi, baby,” you spoke to you belly, a tear escaping from your eye as you looked up to Akaashi, your love for him and the two of you overflowing. “We’re your parents,” your voice quieted down to a mere whisper

The two of you sat astonished watching the little movements that lasted for about a minute, your hands never leaving each other, staying on your belly

This was real, this was your reality, your life with the one you loved so much

And he loved you with every bit of him, he couldn’t imagine what he would do in another life without you

Sakusa: 

It felt like your nausea combined with your cold was going to be the end of you if not the constant kicking from your daughter in your belly at your organs and even your ribs some times

You winced in your seat on the couch, hand over your belly as you took deep breaths through your stuffed nose through pain on top of all the things that was going through your body

Sakusa felt his heart drop beside you, wearing double masks over his face to make extra sure he wouldn’t catch any of your germs from your cold and morning sickness

“Another kick?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded your head, pushing though it. “I feel cold…” you closed your hands around the extended sleeves of the oversize sweater you wore, leaning closer to Sakusa

He tried not to mind this too much but it was like an irritating itch that wouldn’t go away, the fact how you hadn’t showered or anything today yet making it execrable for him

“How about a bath then?” He hesitantly rubbed his hand over your clothed shoulder but got over his lifelong phobia for a second

You were going to be by his side for the rest of his life. He had already seen and touched every bit of your body

You were bearing your guy’s child. This couldn’t go on forever

His touch was so simple, so light, it fed a hunger for him you didn’t realize you had deep inside but at the same time, it took you by surprise

The Sakusa you met years ago wouldn’t even sit or stand, let alone breathe, within two to three feet to anyone and years later, after marriage, and now with the start of a family, he was climbing the obstacle of his fears step by step

He knew, he told you with his own words he was never one to share a loving touch or caring words. He wanted to, god he wanted to so badly to let go of his cares and worries and fears but he couldn’t. It was etched into his skin and body, imprinted for his eyes and mind to constantly see and think about

But he wanted this to change. He wanted to do and say so many things to you to show his love that he deeply felt for you, it moved him and tore him on the inside

“Yes please,” you nodded

Sakusa had you walk in front of him, making sure you didn’t lose your balance going up

He took care of everything, adding soaps to the bath at the perfect heated temperature that would be perfect to soothe you as well as take care of some germs

Steam arose from the bubbly water

The two of you took off your clothes and he was the first to get in, his muscles instantly relaxing with the therapeutic temperature

You followed suit, feeling the subtle creeps of awkwardness

Again to your surprise, Sakusa took hold of your shoulders and carefully leaned you back into his chest with his legs crossed loosely beneath your legs

He brought his arms under the water, his hands looped around your abdomen and found their place on your belly

As soon as his touch was on you, you took in a sharp inhale, jolting in the water that created a little wave among the bubbles floating

“She’s been so active today,” Sakusa commented as he rubbed his hand in a circle on your belly, the other holding your hand as you gripped onto him through the pain

“Mmhm,” you gave a pained hum, eyes shut as you continued to breathe deeply

Sakusa could see the clear pain you were in, all the nausea and emotions that were all pent up in your body, it made guilt prick at his heart as he imagined all the times you probably wanted to reach out to him so he could hold you to help you though this but refrained

He could see your figure so clearly in his mind, reaching out but pulling back

Enough was enough

He pulled his arm from the water with a prominent splash and took off his masks, setting them neatly to the side

“I’m sorry you’re going through all this pain, Y/N.” Sakusa leaned close and pressed a kiss to your cheek, stifling his obsessive phobia internally. “Please never hesitate to reach out to me… I want to be a better husband for you…” He admitted

It felt so good to say this- it felt better than washing his hands or putting on a new mask

“I’ll be better,” he vowed more to himself than you

“Omi, it’s okay but thank you. I won’t.” You rubbed your hand over his forearms under the water, your chills from earlier long gone now  

It was like magic

With Sakusa’a hands rubbing your belly, it was like your daughter sensed this and her kickings finally ceased for the rest of the bath

“She’s not even born yet but she’s already daddy’s girl,” you leaned your head back to his shoulder, smiling tiredly to Sakusa as his lips mirrored yours

“You’re my girl now and forever, though. She’ll just be my little one,” he leaned close and pressed his lips to your forehead

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04​  @fortheloveofbakugo​ @tsumtsumsemi​ @osamuonigiri @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci​ @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi​ @pink-panda-pancakes​ @differentballooncollection​ @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction​ @euphorihan@turquoiselace​ @macaronnv  @oxmaddy​​ @mrkoala4prsdnt​​ @curiouslilbeast​ @plantisnotplant@therestless101​ @abcdaichi​ @oyasenpai​ @kaaidalupita​

[fishstyx]

it's always the quiet ones.

featuring. fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

wc. 1.4k

genre. dark/taboo, smut

tw. 18+ nsfw, noncon, intoxication/alcohol, anal penetration, virginity, choking, dacryphilia, creampie

synopsis. a little bit of jungle juice and megumi is skipping bases.

Megumi tries not to think about it sober. 

That is, what it’d feel like with one hand wrapped around your neck, breath bated as he preps your asshole with the other. Would tears well up in your eyes as he forces his cock into your twitching heat? Would cum spill from your gaping hole when he finishes inside you?

He’s way ahead of himself and he knows it, doesn’t have the slightest clue what your other hole feels like—hasn’t had a single taste of you in bed before. He’s doing his best to curb his curiosity, really, but lately he’s finding it harder and harder to put his demons to sleep when he’s got a little something in his system.

You’re not exactly in your right mind either, tonight, clinging to his arm at the party when you know it’s all he can do just to tolerate the slightest amount of PDA. But the throng of moving bodies swallows you whole and it feels like just the two of you in this time and space; you’re only able to hear each other over the blaring music anyway, as if the reality between you both is the only one that truly exists.

But then you’re wobbling in place, antsy movements signaling your approaching departure when he’s been secretly hoping that you’ll never let go. Your words come out a slur, a poorly pronounced “‘m going to the bathroom,” no vowel left unstretched as you peel away and turn your heel.

And as much as Megumi would love to play it cool, to wait for you by the door like a responsible boyfriend should, the curve of your ass in your favorite night time outfit lures him in behind you. You’re so out of it that you don’t even notice when the door shuts closed.

It’s all a blur from the moment you realize you’re not alone in the bathroom. He’s crept upon you unawares, was probably the one to lock the door properly when you completely forgot to. And if the mirror’s reflection wasn’t proof enough, he’s hunched over you now, lips barely grazing your ear as he whispers:

“I bet we could get away with it in here.”

And you giggle.

A fit of giggles.

A string of them, all stitched together by a stray hiccup or two as you raise your arms in compliance.

“I bet we could.”

You never would’ve guessed that your first time would be in a place like this, surrounded by people yet visible to no one. You can feel the thump of the music even from here, the beat of the bass still thrumming at your feet, familiar pop melody buzzing in your bones.

Is this really Megumi? My Megumi? you question in fragmented wonder, but the thought quickly dissipates as he gets you undressed. It’s such a freeing change of pace from the oppressive air that hangs outside, a heavy blanket of heat and perspiration and sweat-slicked clothing.

You’re still laughing when his pants drop, head swirling in dizzying anticipation. Because it all feels so surreal, how honest you’re being, how honest he’s being. He’s hardly ever let his touch wander before, yet now he’s pressing his hard on against that perfect ass of yours, hands ghosting over your thighs and up your chest as he rocks his hips into you.

You’re still laughing when he tugs at your underwear. He could do this all night long, dry hump himself to completion again and again if only that were enough for you, too—but the wet patch evidenced by the fabric reminds him otherwise.

You’re still laughing when his fingers meet your slick, laughing at how someone’s banging the door while your boyfriend pets your leaking slit, laughing and laughing and laughing. It’s sloppy work at best, but he’s buzzed and you’re buzzed, the core of your body practically singing with praises at his every touch. It reeks of booze and stink and sour and you can’t get enough of it. You push your sweet spot into the palm of his hand in an attempt to help him out, unable to hide your disappointment when he draws back unexpectedly.

But then he’s thumbing at your neglected little puckered asshole, painting it glossy with your own dripping juices. It’s been distracting him this whole time, after all, practically presenting itself to him from this angle—wholly unbeknownst to you yourself. You stiffen, pressing your back flush into his chest, so very sure that he couldn’t possibly be into that.

“Gumi, that’s the wrong hole,” you say, voice hushed as you try to move his hand away, but it’s no use. Your eyes widen in panic as he pushes you down with ease, full weight anchoring you to the sink countertop. He’s never made show of it but he’s clearly much stronger, undoubtedly several times the brawn needed to overpower you. Your legs kick as his thumb sinks deeper—a knuckle? Two knuckles? Not that it really matters, since either way...

You’re not laughing anymore.

Because the person behind you, the one who’s ignoring your words of protest as he replaces his thumb with a pair of fingers, scissoring you apart exactly where you told him not to—that person is most definitely not your Megumi.

The knocking at the door has stopped; the silence is deafening.

And all of a sudden, you feel utterly alone.

“Megumi, it burns,” you plead, voice climbing until you can finally separate it from the thunderous quietude, but he only holds you down by the neck, spitting on his fingers before reworking your walls. 

It’s hard for you to stand still like this, but you can’t tell if your legs are shaking out of fatigue or in reaction to his ministrations. You struggle to deliberate—the sensation in your ass morphing into something familiar yet strange—while Megumi simply decides it’s the latter.

There’s little warning when he deems you ready. He comes to full halt in an instant, the instant when he finally snaps and can’t bear to wait another second. He doesn’t even give himself time to admire his handiwork, doesn’t relish in the way that your walls flutter around nothing the moment he pulls out. The very next moment, he finds himself violating you past the point of no return instead.

It feels impossibly full. 

You scramble for purchase on the counter as he doubles back, your forehead nearly hitting the mirror when he lurches forward again, desperate to relieve his pent-up fantasies.

“Holy shit, it’s tight,” he hisses, as if he isn’t fucking his lover but just some onahole fleshlight. With gritted teeth he snaps his hips repeatedly, chokehold stiffening as the pace devolves into rhythmless abandon. It feels new, it feels weird, it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your mind fumbles to make sense of it, forever oscillating between ‘oddly satisfying’ and ‘downright disgusting.’

All streams of consciousness seem to freeze when he hits a spot so sensitive you think you’re paralyzed from the waist down. You’re set ablaze, the pressure leaving you tingling and confused. Even when he misses the mark your body screams for more, pulsating with primal need.

You feel lightheaded, lack of airflow one of the few things you can focus on, and Megumi swears he can feel you suddenly clamp down on him. Every noise is blurring into each other, from your fruitless whines to the sound of his balls slapping your skin, and you can hardly tell up from down when he blows his load.

Maybe that’s what sends you over the edge: the warmth that fills your abused insides as if to reward them for all their trouble. No, you’re not cumming. You’re crying, the release of your frustration rolling off your cheeks and falling flat on the countertop, the only reprieve from the unfamiliar feeling, warm and sticky and unfair in your injured hole.

Megumi’s too busy riding out his orgasm to notice, grip on your neck loosening as you milk out the last of his semen. He watches the place where your bodies connect with intent, the thought of pulling out never quite crossing his mind. His gaze doesn’t so much as falter until you’re oozing his seed, his wildest dreams come true in vivid quality.

It’s only when he catches your eye in the mirror that he sees the trails of tears that stain your face, admires the way they catch the light when you shake your head, “No more, please stop, it’s too much…”

He hardens instantly.

🏷️ @levisbrattiestbrat

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[theladyofdeath]

Elorcan 1st time?

PART II of drabble prompt: "Playing 2 truths and a lie while tipsy for Elorcan please", which you can read here :)

This is obviously nsfw. Caution: dirty love making. “Cock” is used, along with other sexual words of vulgarity. Anyway. Enjoy. 

Written with @snelbz

Lorcan waited for Elide to come back, but she never did. Yeah, he was a little tipsy - okay, he was straddling the border of being completely drunk - but he had meant what he had said.

I am completely in love with you.

Should that have been how he told her? No. Probably not, and he knew it as soon as the words had left his mouth, but he couldn't help it. Ten years, holding in such overwhelming feelings and emotions...they eventually just had to fall out.

He was surprised he'd held it in for so long.

Now, he almost wished he'd held it in longer.

He wasn't drunk enough to not have seen the panic in her eyes as she stood and walked away, back toward her bedroom. Which is where she had been for the last twenty minutes.

Lorcan remained lying in the beanbag in the corner of the living room, watching everyone else dance and have a good time while he drank and drank and drank.

Until eventually he couldn't take it any longer.

He pushed himself up, and caught his balance, and made his way down the hall. Elide's door was shut, which he expected, but he hadn't expected it to be locked when he tried the knob.

With a sigh, he knocked. "Elide."

Nothing.

He knocked again, harder, and consistently, until it was cracked open. "Will you stop before my door breaks in half? Gods."

Lorcan rolled his eyes and pushed his way into Elide's room, not bothering to wait for permission. He had been in Elide's room a million times, and it had looked the exact same as it had every time. Nothing had changed.

Except for the lingering discomfort in the air.

Elide didn't look at him as she shut her door behind them, shutting out the noise of the party raging outside. When it was just the two of them, standing alone in the silence, Lorcan cleared his throat.

"Care to tell me what the hell that was about?" he asked.

When she swung around, he instantly knew she was pissed. "What the hell that was about? Lorcan! You just told me that you...." She shook her head, her face falling into her hands. "Seriously?"

"That I'm in love with you?" he asked, and took in the sight before him. She wouldn't even meet his eye, and it was clear that she'd come into her room to quickly make an escape from him, to get away from him. There was no emergency of any kind, nothing else that had stolen her away. It was him. He'd told her how he felt, and it had scared her away. So, he scratched the back of his neck and said, "No, I only said that because I was drunk. I thought it would be funny, and it obviously wasn't, so...I'm sorry."

She met his eyes then, and he couldn't quite pin the emotion in her eye. Was it relief? Or disappointment?

Elide swallowed as she nodded. "Well...that's good, because I was sitting here thinking about how I could never bear to lose you. You're my best friend, Lor, and if...you did have feelings for me, that could really complicate things. So."

"Yeah," Lorcan agreed, a little too quickly. "So, I'll leave you alone in here and go back out there and get a drink and feel like an asshole."

Elide chuckled, quietly. "Yeah, alright. Pour me one too while you're out there."

Lorcan nodded and walked past her, back toward her door, but when his hand touched the cool metal knob, he froze.

Then he slowly turned around and met Elide's gaze. "You know what? I'm not sorry." Elide opened her mouth, but Lorcan cut her off. "It wasn't a joke, I was deadass serious. El, I'm in love with you, and I have been...for years. If you don't feel the same way, that's fine, but I finally spoke my truth and I'm not going to pretend like it was some douchey prank. I love you. You're incredible, and if this ruins our friendship, then that's something I'll never forgive myself for, because your friendship is the most important thing in the world to me, but...I love you. I do. And I would be a fucking idiot to act like I don't."

The words rushed out of him so quickly he wasn't even sure if they were comprehensible. Elide didn't say a word. In fact, he wasn't even certain she was breathing, she just stared at him with those big, dark eyes.

Lorcan turned back around and threw open the door when it became clear that there would be no response, but the second he crossed the threshold, she was calling his name.

"Lor, wait."

He did.

He didn't want to, didn't want to get shot down by the person who had saved him in every possible way throughout the last decade, but he was weak when it came to her demands.

"Look at me," she pleaded.

He did that, too.

He turned, and met her eye. She was closer now, only a few feet away from where he stood, halfway in the hall.

"You think I don't feel the same?" she asked, quietly.

He blinked. "You just said-."

"I haven't told you how I felt because you're the most important person to me, too," she whispered, taking another step toward him. "If we...acted on this, and it ended badly, and I didn't have you in my life anymore..." She shook her head. "Lor, I couldn't handle that. I would rather have you as my friend than not at all."

He stared at her. It was the last thing he expected her to say after what she had said before. Now she was there, looking at him completely raw, telling him that she felt the same way.

Lorcan stepped back into the room and shut the door behind him. "You know what your problem is?"

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously? That's what you're going to lead with in this moment?"

"Your problem is," Lorcan went on, ignoring her question completely, "that you think too damn much."

She opened her mouth to speak, surely to protest, but Lorcan had closed the distance between them in one long stride, took her up into his arms, and kissed her, slowly.

Elide immediately melted into that kiss, her arms going around his neck as her feet were swept off the ground. As her legs wrapped around his waist, Lorcan turned and had her back pressed up against her bedroom door. Holding her up with his hips, he cupped her face, and when they finally broke apart, his hands remained on her cheeks, his forehead having fallen against hers as they both struggled to calm their breathing.

Their eyes met, and neither of them said a word as their lips touched again. The kiss was slow, sensual, full of endless longing.

Lorcan had spent long hours wondering how well Elide kissed, but his imagination hadn't even come close to the reality of the feeling of his mouth on hers.

Her tongue swept between his lips and brushed along his teeth. His hands fell from her face and down her body until he had the hem of her tank top in his fingers, and he was pulling it over her head. His eyes trailed down her body, and Elide took the opportunity to unhook the clasp of her bra and drop it to her carpet.

Gently, Lorcan cradled her full breast in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb over her nipple as her chest rose and fell in quick, rapid motions.

"Now you."

Lorcan's eyes snapped to hers, and she gestured to his shirt. After setting her down on the floor, he pulled his tee over his head, and her fingers were instantly against his skin. She traced the lines of his muscles, and Lorcan didn't dare move. He stood perfectly still, perfectly quiet, while her fingers roamed his body. They trailed from his abdomen, up to his chest, then down his side, and the edge of the v that disappeared beneath his jeans.

She stopped at the band of his boxer-briefs that were peeking out above his jeans, and she looked up, her eyes meeting his, and she popped open his button, and slid his zipper down.

Lorcan still didn't move, was terrified to. Apparently, keeping still had it's advantages and he wasn't about to curse the situation.

He’d made the right decision, too, he’d decided, and Elide inched down Lorcan’s jeans until they were in a pile on the floor beside them. She palmed the hardened bulge in his boxer-briefs, and a soft groan left Lorcan’s lips.

The sound made Elide grin from pure satisfaction.

That grin only disappeared when she pulled those boxer-briefs down, and Lorcan’s cock sprung free, making Elide’s eyes widen and her mouth run dry. For a second, she didn’t move, and for Lorcan, that alone was agonizing.

Then, without a word, she dropped to her knees and met his gaze through her long, dark lashes as she slowly licked the tip. 

Lorcan cursed, the sight nearly making him combust. He brushed the hair out of her face so that he wouldn’t miss a damned second of what was about to take place, before letting his hands fall back to his sides.

Elide’s hands had other plans. They wrapped around his cock and began working the base as her mouth took him in. It was slow at first, then with each pass Elide took him in a little deeper, a little further, a little faster. He watched her head bob, watched as this woman he was so madly in love with sucked him dry. 

He forced his eyes not to shut, forced his head not to fall back, forced his hands to remain at his sides. It was an all new kind of torture, one he couldn’t endure as one hand, at last, came to rest on the back of Elide’s head, his fingers weaving through her hair with enough force to make Elide moan, softly, against his sensitive skin. 

That moan reverberated through his entire body, from his cock to his chest where a growl pulled from him. Elide’s slim hand tightened, working him harder, quicker, and it was something straight out a wet dream he’d had a million times.

He just never imagined it was something he’d experience in his waking moments.

She looked up at him, and he was frozen, chest heaving as he stared down into those big, dark eyes. Eyes that were as glazed with lust as they were the alcohol that flowed through both of their veins. But there was something else in them, something he hadn’t seen in a gaze in a long time.

Care and longing and…love.

She could tell him that she loved him until she was blue in the face, but there was no denying that those eyes were full of love as she looked up at him. It nearly brought him to his knees with her. 

That realization only brought him to his release quicker, and Elide’s head fell back as he came onto her breasts, her hands continuing to work him until there was nothing left. 

Lorcan’s hand remained on the back of her head, if only for balance as he swore, and closed his eyes. By the time he opened them again, Elide was rising and crossing her room for a towel that hung on a hook by her door, which she used to wipe his cum off her skin. 

Lorcan watched the entire thing attentively, and when she turned back around and met his stare with a sly smile, he asked, his voice low, “Why the hell aren’t you naked?”

It was unfair, really, to be completely nude while her jeans remained. Elide didn’t argue, and in answer, she slowly shimmied out of her jeans until she stood before him in a lacy, black thong.

Lorcan’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he had only taken one step toward her when she slipped that thong off, too. When she rose again, there was nothing hiding her beautiful body.

The next thing he did was something he swore he had absolutely no control of. He picked her up and threw her back onto the bed, before crawling up after her, his body covering hers. It was rough and primal and something he’d imagined doing but never thought he’d actually get to do. His lips wrapped around one of her nipples and she moaned as her hand dove into her hair.

Her legs were already parted to make room for his body, so he had easy access to slide a knuckle between her folds, surprised to find her already warm and wet for him. He pulled back to tease her, to say something that would no doubt cause the blush on her cheeks to deepen, but he was interrupted by a knocking on her door.

“Elide?” Aelin called, over the music still playing in the living room. “You okay in there? I haven’t seen in you in a while.”

Lorcan was about to holler back but Elide’s hand covered his mouth.

“I’m okay,” she replied. “Just wasn’t feeling great. Decided to lay down.”

The knob shook as she tried to open it and both Elide and Lorcan were extremely grateful Lorcan had thought to lock it when he’d closed it before.

There was a pause on the other end. “Okay, well, can I get you anything?”

“No, go have fun!” she called, and Lorcan snorted into the hand that was still covering his mouth. 

“Alright,” Aelin muttered, as she walked away.

They both remained still for a moment on the bed before Elide’s hand fell away and Lorcan slowly shook his head. “You didn’t want her to hear me pleasuring you?” he asked, a long finger slowly slipping up inside of her.

Elide’s lashes batted against her porcelain skin. “If you pleasure me as well as I think you will, the whole damn party just might hear.”

A soft growl escaped him as Lorcan leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was short, sweet, and then his mouth trailed across her cheek, and along her jaw, and down her neck where he stopped to suck that sensitive spot, just at its base. Then his lips fell to her breasts, once more, and he took her nipple between his lips, tugging on it with his teeth.

Elide hissed, her hands diving into his hair. Lorcan gave her breasts the attention they deserved before moving on, his lips trailing down her abdomen, and when he spread her legs open as wide as they could go, Elide’s eyes shut in preparation for the bliss that was about to occur. 

Lorcan leaned back to observe her sex, and took his time before sliding his tongue slowly between her folds. 

Elide muttered a curse that had Lorcan’s hands tightening around her ass. 

True to her words, the moan that Lorcan’s tongue wrung from Elide was far from quiet. If Aelin had still been on the other side of the door, she would have immediately known Elide had been lying, would have put two and two together when she noticed Lorcan’s absence as well, and would be banging on Elide’s door, demanding to know what the hell she thought she was doing.

Elide couldn’t find it within herself to care. Not as Lorcan’s lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently. Something that sounded like his name tumbled from her lips, but she was far past coherent thoughts as she gripped her breast with one hand and Lorcan’s hair with the other.

That grip fueled Lorcan more and he sucked a little bit faster, a little bit harder, his tongue going wild as he feasted. Those moans from Elide grew louder, and the fact that she wasn’t a quiet lover had Lorcan feeling even more excited. She was wild, and she knew exactly what she liked - Lorcan admired that.

Elide’s back arched and her knees around Lorcan’s head tightened around him. She gasped between those moans, those delicate fingers woven into his hair gripping the strands to the point of pain. A delightful, wonderful, exhilarating pain. 

“I can’t,” she breathed, followed by a lovely string of curses. “I’m going to- Lorcan-.”

She came, and Lorcan held onto her ass, his tongue continuing to circle her clit as she did so. He didn’t lean back and look up until she was finished, and her body collapsed onto her blankets. And when he did, he climbed up her body, took her face into his hands, and kissed her. His chin was wet from her, but he didn’t care, and she didn’t seem to, either, as he sank down on top of her, hiking up one of her legs around his ass. 

“I want you,” he muttered, into her lips, as if it wasn’t obvious enough by now. “Gods, I want you.”

She kissed him again, roughly, her tongue exploring his mouth, tasting herself on him, and breathed, “Then take me.”

There was no hesitation after that, no lingering touches or kisses. Not as Lorcan reached between them, lining himself up with her entrance and sank into her warm wetness.

It wasn’t rough, he didn’t want to hurt her, but by no means was it gentle. He filled her with one, long stroke, while she gasped and clung to his back. Her nails sank into the muscles she’d lusted after for so long, his name falling from her lips with a string of curses behind it. He echoed the sentiment as he pulled back and pushed back into her, setting a strong, relentless pace.

Her eyes kept trying to flutter closed, barely able to endure the sensation of having him so deep inside of her, but she kept them firmly on his. She could watch as that cool, well-maintained demeanor began to fall to pieces, could feel it as his thrusts became harder and faster, until before she knew it the headboard was slamming against the wall.

Surely Aelin would hear that.

Neither of them cared.

Lorcan fucked her, unceasing and without abandon. Their eyes remained locked the entire time, although with great difficulty. They didn’t want to miss it, though, didn’t want to miss the reactions, the emotions, the realizations that after all that time had passed, they were finally there, together, in that moment, and no one would ever take that away from them. It was a memory, a part of their story, that would forever be cherished and never forgotten. 

Elide came, her knees shaking around Lorcan’s waist, and he only lasted a moment longer before he was pushed far over the edge. When they were done, they laid cuddled up together beneath her blankets, Lorcan’s arm draped around her bare waist as his face rested in the crook of her neck, and she ran her fingers through his long, messy hair. 

As they were beginning to drift off into a sound, dreamless sleep, Lorcan said, quietly, “I want it to be noted that I didn’t tell you that I love you to get you in bed.” 

Elide laughed, breathlessly, as she looked over at him. “No?”

He shook his head, knowing full well that she knew better. He explained himself, nonetheless. “No. I meant it, Elide. I love you. I have, for a long time, and I will, for a long time.”

Her eyes softened as she pressed her lips softly against his forehead. “I love you, too. Always have, always will.” 

[littlefreya]

Easy Prey

Summary: Direct sequel to Jerk. Ring or not, August promised himself that he will make you his, in whatever mean possible and he kept that promise. 

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person pov)

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+, dark, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, teasing, dirty talk, gunplay (yeah add this to the list of kinks I gave you), sweet degradation and praise.

A/N: You thought August is going to sweet talk this one, didn’t you? Surprise! This was a short drabble brought by a prompt, turned into a one-shot and then my beta @agniavateira suggested this as a sequel to Jerk before I posted. Since most of you may be in a thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, enjoy my own early b-day gift to you! Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming and @sapphirescrolls who convinced me to post this. 

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. Your feedback is my fuel. 🖤

Easy Prey

August Walker lived his life swinging between the two sharp edges of a sword; but then, how could he not? He had to maintain a handsome prime-alpha male reputation while hiding his true cruel nature masked beneath mist and shadows.

It took everyone by surprise once it was revealed that the slick, charming agent was a vicious, Armani-wearing monster. A hard-to-swallow pill for most, but these two diverse entities were always one and the same: 

August Walker was John Lark the way darkness followed light. 

And how unfortunate it was of you to be lured into the spider’s web, stunned by the beauty of the pearly silk; you’ve gotten too close and had your limbs caught in the sticky threads. Now captured, you’ve earned yourself a taste of August’s sweet toxin yourself. 

Fear wasn’t even close to the sensation that was gnawing in your gut.

The suite was cosy; a sleepy fire crackled in the mantle, shy beams of maple light kissed your bare breasts while you laid upon the softest pillows. It felt like a sinister joke compared to the ropes charring the supple flesh of your wrists. August had you stripped of any remnants of protection of course, save for the little jewellery circling your finger which he eyed with a blank stare that screamed in its contained silence.

Fully clothed, he stood at the fore of the bed, wearing a blue three-piece suit as if he was attending a royal wedding. A magnum was clutched in his right hand and a dagger in the other. The calmness and elegance of his appearance only made you arch and grunt in your fruitless attempts to set yourself free.

“Ropes too tight, angel?” He hummed, his voice so pleasant it felt like your lungs were floating in a void. His crystal-pale gaze dawdled upon you, invading beneath the skin, penetrating the warm crease between your legs which you fought to keep shut. 

He felt it, or maybe even smelled the arousal that wafted at his direction and chanted his name.

“I’d save my strength if I were you. We’ve already proven that no one can hear your screams and we have a long night ahead of us.”

His words covered the bones of your spine with a thick layer of frost and in your searing throat, a bitter substance reemerged. Screwing your eyes shut, you wished more than anything for this to be a nightmare; but every time the binds twisted about your hands, you remembered the dreadful meaning behind the pain. 

It was there to remind you of the harsh slap that was reality.  

August tilted his head, a smile beginning to spread from each corner of his mouth: all pleasant and  charming as if this was nothing but a couple’s naughty getaway. 

“You can’t wake up from this, this is not a dream… or a nightmare, depends on your disobedience,” he assured, boding a sudden hollow in your chest. “Now, which one do you prefer? The knife or the gun?”

“Fuck you!” 

Defiant, you gathered yourself to scream a trembling cry, sending your legs to kick the mattress in a hopeless fight. Only it made things worse as August was able to spot the little dew-kissed orchid between your legs, glistening-wet with invitation. 

Flicking a tongue over his upper lip, he crept close. His broad shoulders strained, his posture that of an elegant predator; as you saw the large outlines of his heavy cock stretching his navy-blue trousers, even hatred and horror couldn’t mask the pang of need that shot through your core.

Despite the panic, the traitorous instinct of life whispered of undisclosed, primal lust. You wished so badly you could fight or hide it, but alas there was no hiding from August. He could sense it, see it, and even taste it on his wicked tongue. 

“Gun then,” he answered and slid the knife back into the holster in his belt.

Your breath hitched as the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you watched paralysed as he aimed the gun between your legs. Strong tremors coursed along your skin and your knees buckled and wobbled as the cold metal touched you; and yet, in that very moment, you did the impossible and moaned.

“Has it been that long since you had a dick inside you?” August observed with a vicious grin crisping his lips. It made his moustache twitch almost comically. 

“Don’t worry sweet angel, we’ll fix that soon.”

Pushing the gun between your kneecaps, he forced them open and ran the barrel feverishly down your inner thighs. The metal was freezing against your flesh, eliciting little tingles to spiral beneath the tender brush. Gasping, you looked away from him ashamed. You were terrified, not just of him, but from how much the wanton centre of your sex clenched from his ministrations.

You were bound and kidnapped by a dangerous man, and yet in your mind played the sick fantasies of him unbuckling his belt and giving you his full girth hard and wild. 

“You will soon have me in every hole,” August continued with a promise on his honeyed lips while lowering the brim of the weapon perilously close to your radiating heat and toying with the sensitive area teasingly. “I will make it hurt real bad, you’ll feel me there for days if not more,” he hummed and swerved the barrel between your engorged lips. 

“Please!” You gasped and writhed away slightly, tugging on the binds that began chafing your delicate skin. August raised his glare to meet your pleading eyes and leaned forward, his shadow looming over you entirely. Reaching one hand to your nape, he clutched you forcefully while his icy glare pierced right through your skull.

Slow and sensual he began to run the gun between your soft petals, gingerly grazing the hard shaft at the plump peak of flesh that made you cry out with both pleasure and despair. 

“Aww...” He keened and groaned. Never stopping his coaxing of your cunt with the still object, his breath huffed hot upon your cheek as he rounded his beautiful lips in faux pity. “Poor helpless little butterfly.”

Crying and dazed, you stared directly into his eyes. Words of plea kept running caged inside your head, unable to make their way out while you watched August’s large shoulder move back and forth. The movement resulting in the unwanted pleasure. Back and forth, he stroked you, gradually increasing the pace, and not without style even. Ruthless, August was keen on making you come.

You weren’t even sure what it was that you begged for at that point.

Grunts and sobs escaped your throat unwillingly. You squirmed and pushed against it, your body craving for more: not just for the rough friction that tingled at your cunt but also at the large bulge visible at his groin. The more rapture began to creep through your flowing tendons, the further you sank into delirium, wondering how he would feel like buried deep between your tight walls, fucking you the way only someone who has no boundaries would.

“Fuck!” You screamed, grinding against the metal while August leaned even closer and kissed the corner of your mouth before groaning and moaning at your lips. His hand worked hard between your thighs, the cold barrel now warm, the hollow edge coated with your elixir. 

The wall of your protests crumbled as the simmering surge of climax began pushing itself down your belly, leaving you teetering between self-loathing and ecstasy. 

“That’s right my beautiful butterfly, I’ll pluck your wings,” August promised in a husky whisper, watching you as you coiled and cried louder, your walls convulsing tightly around a sad, empty space as you came. If only you didn’t wish it was August choked between them instead.

As you slumped down, sweaty and breathless, he drawled a growl of content and slowly withdrew the gun to hold it next to your shivering face.

“I swear, Sloan’s assistants keep getting sluttier every year; the last one I fucked had a thing for me choking her,” he mocked while grazing the wet barrel against your cheek, “do you think you’d be into that too, sweetling? My hand around your throat?”  

Rounding your eyes in utter fear, you swallowed the dryness in your throat. August sighed with a malicious little grin while twisted awe danced between the blue, sparkling sapphires that examined you ecstatically, so fascinated by how easily he managed to break and bend you to his will.

Still holding the neck of the gun pressed next to your cheek, he reached the other hand above your head. A part of you was relieved for a moment, thinking he was about to untie the bind. 

But your hope quickly died as you felt his fingers rolling the ring that decorated your finger.

The diamond reflected onto the deep blue of his eyes as he examined it closely before throwing it directly into the fireplace.

“No!” You cried out brokenly, as the last memory of your old life disappeared in flames.

“Save your tears beautiful,” August retorted, his voice once again so soft it chilled your very core. He shifted his entire weight between your straddled thighs, and leaned in to kiss the wetness below your eye, “you won’t be needing it anymore.”

His tongue slipped out to collect the briny liquid that gathered on your cheek, and another hum of delight rumbled in his chest as his covered cock unmistakably ground against your mound, “I am your man from now on, might as well accept it and let me do whatever I want.”

Shivering under him, you took a deep breath, your body already swaying in demand as you felt him throbbing beneath the soft fabric of his pants. To your own horror, your head fell into a slow nod of shameful consent. 

It wasn’t just August you were afraid of, but also for yourself.    

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I’m Yours, You’re Mine | 1

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Smut, future angst

Summary:  You’ve always wished to take a more dominant role in bed, but Chan just wasn’t having it. So when you see an opportunity to do just that with Felix, you can’t help yourself. But you soon come to regret your drunken decision for a reason other than that you’d cheated on your boyfriend with his own bestfriend.

A/N: I’ll be posting this series in tiny increments like this. mad strats

Warnings: Cheating, yandere!felix, sub!felix, dom!reader, kinda-public sex, reader makes felix jerk himself off in a bar lmao

___________________

Part 2

Music blares out all around you and the bar's strobe lights flash on the inside of your eyelids as you swing your head back to down the shot in your hand, shaking your head in distaste as the liquor burns down your throat and shifting around in Felix's lap. You stop moving completely however when you feel something hard pressing against your ass.

Your immediate instinct is to get off his lap, and you move to do just that when his hands spring forward and grab onto your hips, pinning you down to his thighs.

“Please, stop moving, noona.” He grunts, his low tone vibrating through your body as he grabs onto your hips for dear life. He sounded so helpless and panicked and you're instantly filled with the urge to hear more, to hear him really beg.

Experimentally, you lean back against him, molding your back to his chest and plopping your ass snuggly between his thighs and against his crotch, shivering when he groans and his grip on you turns deathly-tight. "Please…"

The gruff plea is delicious to your ears, and you feel your panties stick to your lips at the sound of it. You move against him again, this time to alleviate some of your own need rather than to make him suffer, but he still does anyway, burying his face in your shoulder and moaning lowly so only you can hear. “Noona…”

Electricity runs through your body, setting your nerves alight and kicking your mind into overdrive as the boy beneath ever-so-subtly starts grinding his dick into your ass. You know it’s wrong. You have a boyfriend--his own best friend--but you’re drunk and all your better instincts are shut off, and all you that your foggy mind is capable of thinking about right now is how to make the boy sound even more desperate. 

“Let's dance." Mark slurs loudly, rudely jolting the both of you out of your trance, and you almost curse Mark out loud for making Felix stop. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Minho joins in, too loudly for your taste, and you hear the rest of your group hum their agreement. Chan’s bleary eyes settle on you and he smiles lazily, reaching out to you to join him, but you gently decline his offer. 

"I'm not in the mood, babe. I'm gonna hang back here with Lixie.” You turn to Felix, making sure to drive your ass into his dick as you do so. “That is if you don’t mind keeping me company?"

This is the moment of truth. If he’s not into this too, he’ll go with Chan. He should. It’s the right thing to do, but you really wish he won’t. You’re not ready to let this moment go yet.

"Of course not." Felix squeaks, shaking his head vigorously and you can't help the smile that spreads across your lips at his quick answer. Chan hangs back for a second, flitting his eyes between you and the red-faced Felix before he shrugs and follows the others to the dance floor.

Once he’s out of sight, you turn towards Felix, once again rubbing against his crotch and eliciting a whimper from him, which you respond to scoldingly, "I'm your hyung's girlfriend, silly boy." 

“It’s not what you think. ” Felix defends himself in an unusually high-pitched voice for him. “It’s not about you, I swear.”

You know he’s lying. You've seen the way he looks at you before--the looks Chan was blind to because he would never even think to suspect that his best friend, his little brother practically, is lusting after his girlfriend. You had ignored it, not really caring for the boy's little crush. But right now, with how needy and vulnerable he's being, you suddenly want to eat him alive.

“It’s not?” You ask, and he shakes his head, face once again hidden in the fabric of your top. That wouldn’t do. Getting off of his lap, you cup his chin and pull his face up so he will look at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He answers in a small voice, cowering slightly under your scrutinizing gaze and you let him stew in his panic for a minute before smoothening your expression over. "This is all a big misunderstanding then."

His shocked eyes snap to yours, hardly believing that you fell for his obvious lie but relieved about it nonetheless. "Yes, yes it is." 

"I understand." You say sympathetically, letting him think he’s off the hook for a second, before adding, "But others might not. Especially Channie."

The panic is back on his face full-force and you have to actively hold back the massive grin that wants to spread across your face. "Please don't tell him."

"I won't, but he could come right now and see you. You need to fix it." You explain, watching how his eyes search yours frantically like you hold the secret to his salvation. “How?”

“Touch yourself.” You state simply, and he jerks back, sputtering, “W-what?”

You roll your eyes and mime a handjob with your hand. "Jerk off."

His face looks like it’s about to melt off from the mortification, obviously taken aback at your vulgar words and gesture. 

“Yes, noona.” He finally breathes out, making to get up but you roughly push him back down. “No. Right here, dummy.”

He gapes at you, "In front of everyone?" In front of… you?”

“If you do it fast and quietly enough, no one will know." You shrug and he shakes his head violently.  “Noona, I can’t---”

“Do you want Chan to see?" You cut him off sharply, annoyed that he's not being as obedient as you had hoped he would. "Do you want him to know how his best friend is a horny little pervert?”

He pales at that, “No. I don’t.”

“Do it then.” You stare at him coldly and he gulps and nods, his hands shaking as he reaches down to undo his pants, but you quickly slap them away. "You can't take your dick out in public, you pervert.” 

“But you said--” He cuts himself off with a whine as you grab his hand and press it against the bulge in his pants. “Do it over your pants." 

Swallowing back the last of his protests, he nods. "Yes, noona."

You can’t believe he's actually doing it, the poor boy clumsily pawing at his hard dick through his pants at your behest, barely letting out little moans and gasps as he pleasures himself, but they’re enough to set you completely on fire. You fight the urge to slip your own hand down your pants and rub one off to the gorgeous boy at your mercy, but you can’t. You need to stay composed. 

“Does it feel good?” You can’t help but ask and Felix looks at you with panic, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I--what--”

Of course he can’t reply to that. He can’t openly admit that this is turning him on. He’s loyal to Chan and you’re Chan’s girlfriend. Still, you can’t help but press on, "Are you imagining it's me touching you?" 

"No!" He squeaks out as you grip his thigh tightly. "Of course. You wouldn't wanna do anything to betray your hyung." 

"I don't.” He agrees, voice choked off as he runs his palm over the length of his dick that was now clearly imprinted in his pants. 

“Good boy.” You purr, taking note of how he would react. When he shudders at the praise, you gain more confidence, pulling his thigh towards you and spreading his legs further apart. He whines even louder at that, his hips bucking up into his hand.  "You'd never really want me to touch you. You're a good, loyal boy." 

"I'm a good boy." He agrees as he humps his hand.

God, you've only ever dreamt of something like this in your fantasies. All the boys you've been with before have never let you do this to them or to even talk to them like that, and you find that you like it even more than you thought you would.

"Yes, you are.” You coo, delighted, but your smile falls as you notice someone heading your way. Cold dread sweeps over your body as reality washes over you, sobering you up from the booze and the sex. “Felix, stop! Chan is coming.” 

He straightens up immediately, eyes flitting through the crowd of people until they land on Chan’s approaching form. 

“No. So close” He breathes out, his hips rutting desperately into his hand, trying to cum before Chan arrives. He’s so close, you can tell, but he’s not quite there yet, and you know he’s not gonna make it so you grab his hand and pin it down next to him on the seat as Chan approaches.

“No!” Felix wails, collapsing into your side. 

"Woah! Felix, are you okay?" Chan rushes the last few steps over, stumbling a little from how drunk he is. 

"He’s okay.” You rush to say, keeping Chan at bay so he wouldn’t come too close. “He just needs some water."

“Oh, okay. I'll go get him some.” 

"Thanks, babe." You reply gratefully, and when Chan is far enough away, you brush Felix off you, sharply telling him to get himself together. He gets whiplash from your sudden cold attitude.

"Noona?" He asks hesitantly, and you snap at him. "You almost got us caught, you idiot!" 

He pouts, his eyes getting watery. "I'm sorry, noona. I'll do better next time." 

"Next time?” You ask in disbelief, “There will be no next time. In fact, this never happened."

 "But it did--" He glares at you.

"Shut your mouth. Chan is back." You hiss quietly then turn to your boyfriend with a tight smile. "Thanks, babe."

You grab the water from him and open it before handing it to Felix. “Drink up, lixie."

He doesn’t move, staring you down angrily, and for a split second you’re terrified he’ll reveal everything to Chan right then and there. But then he breaks eye contact, grabbing the bottle from your hand and gulping down mouthfuls of it. 

“Is Felix okay?” Chan asks, unsure, and you turn to him with the biggest smile you can muster. “Yeah, he’s just fine. How about we go for that dance you wanted earlier?” 

“But I just danced.” Chan whines as you stand up and link your arms with him, dragging him away from the table. 

“Without me so it doesn’t count.” You giggle and kiss his cheeks and he relents. 

You throw one last glance back at Felix and you feel your heart skip a beat at the dark look on his face. This was certainly far from over. 

_____________

A/N: next chapter is hopefully lixie in a kitty maid outfit uwu feedback keeps me going and makes me upload faster :))))

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 4 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hi besties we’re back besties :)))

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

 contains: brief mentions of a gun and domestic abuse, the beginning of ~feelings~ between hotch and reader

wc: 3.1k

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell, which Reid would tell you was interesting, because smell is the sense that we lose the most in sleep. Hence, smoke alarms. Shaking the thought away with a fond smile, you padded into the kitchen slowly, finding Aaron with his jacket and tie long discarded, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“It smells so good!” You announced. 

“It’s olive oil and garlic.” Hotch chuckled as he turned away from the stove to face you. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping.” 

You craned your neck to look at the stovetop clock behind him. “I slept for three hours, Hotch. And I’m sure you’re going to enforce my full eight hours later tonight.” 

“Well, this isn’t ready yet.” He said. 

“Really? You aren’t just feeding me oil and garlic?” You quipped. 

“Don’t be a smartass,” he smirked at you. 

“I want to help,” you told him earnestly, looking up at him from where you’d perched yourself in one of the barstools at his counter. “What can I do?” 

“Here, chop this onion,” he said, sliding everything you’d need across the counter so you could stay seated. 

He moved around the kitchen gracefully, combining ingredients and stirring a sauce and boiling water for pasta with the ease of a practiced chef. He refused to tell you what he was making, and you leaned forward in your chair, trying to see if the spices by the stove would give you any clues. They didn’t, but before you knew it, Aaron was plating pasta with chicken and mushrooms and broccoli in a sauce that smelled heavenly.

 “Will you tell me now?” You whined as you both sat down at the table to eat. 

“It’s nothing special, really.” he laughed at your antics. “It’s pasta in a lemon-dill cream sauce.” 

“You’ve been holding out on us,” you accused as you took your first bite. “Aaron, this is delicious.” 

He smiled back at you, trying to ignore how much he loved hearing his first name come rolling from your lips. “Well, you helped.” 

“Please. I chopped vegetables and used the can opener. I certainly did not, and could not, whip up a lemon-dill cream sauce on a moment’s notice.” 

You continued to banter over dinner, laughing and smiling in a way it felt like you hadn’t in weeks. Aaron, ever-efficient as he was, had handled most of the cleanup as he was cooking, so all that was left was packing up the leftovers and putting your dishes in the dishwasher. When you closed the fridge, Aaron spoke up again. 

“So, Jess is supposed to drop off Jack tomorrow.” Aaron mentions, with a certain forced casualness. 

“Oh, I can be out of your hair.” You said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.  “I’m sure I can stay with Emily--”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Aaron stopped you. “I’m not kicking you out. I was just going to say, I can ask Jess to keep him for a little while longer.” 

“Hotch, no way. He’s your son. I’m not kicking him out of his own house or keeping him away from his father.”

“Of course you aren’t. I can go visit him at Jess’s place and when you’re comfortable with him, he can come here.” 

“I’m plenty comfortable with Jack.” You assured him.  “I just meant, won’t it be weird for him, if I’m here? And I don’t want to intrude on your time with him.” 

“You’re not an intruder. Jack loves you. And I--” he started to say something, but caught himself. You decided not to think too hard about it. “I would be happy to have you here, with him.” 

You still felt uneasy-- you knew his time with Jack was precious. You took a deep breath, preparing to strike a compromise. “How about this-- I go stay with Emily-- listen--” you stopped him before he could cut you off. “I go stay with Emily tomorrow night. It’s Saturday. I need some girl time, and Jack needs some dad time. You and Jack can spend the day together, and then I can come back on Sunday and you can talk to him about me being here before I’m actually in his kitchen eating his cinnamon toast crunch. I know he loves me, and I love him too, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You could tell that he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of you being out of his sight for a whole day, but he wasn’t Josh-- he wasn’t going to try to use his emotions to control your behavior. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the discomfort on his face. You know that sooner or later, you’d have to have a conversation about where you’re actually going to live-- but you decide not to push him any further tonight. 

“I’ll be with Emily the whole time. After today, I’m pretty sure she’d shoot him on sight if given the opportunity. You don’t need to worry.” You told him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Your touch grounded him, brought him back to reality.

He took a deep breath, resigning himself to give you what you wanted, just as he always would. “And you’re going to take your meds, and take it easy, and not--”

“Yes, dad.” You scoffed. “See, this is why I need you and Jack to take some time. You should get all of this out with him.” you laughed at him, and he grinned back at you. 

“You’re just as stubborn. That’s not my fault.” 

“Some people call that being strong-willed, Aaron.” you teased back, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. 

Aaron panics slightly when he doesn’t find you in the guest room the next morning, but his anxiety evaporates when he sees you perched on the couch in the living room, your hair thrown up into a bun, sitting criss-cross with your feet tucked underneath you and your laptop on your lap. You’ve brewed a pot of coffee, and Aaron takes a minute to look at you fondly before that nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that you’re his subordinate, that you were hurting, and that even if you weren’t, you could never love a bitter, old, broken man like him. 

“Working on something?” He asked, interrupting his own spiral. 

Your eyes shot up instantly, not having noticed his entrance. “Nothing important. The coffee’s still hot, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Of course I don’t mind.” He reminds you, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. “You’re not an intruder here. Especially not when you make a strong pot of coffee.” 

“Doing anything fun with Jack today?” You asked, shutting your laptop as he sat down at the other end of the couch. 

“It’s supposed to be nice, I think we’ll go to the park. He’s just about ready to take the training wheels off of his bike.” He smiled fondly. 

“Aw, my little man! I’m so excited for him.” You cooed, only brightening Aaron’s smile.

“What about you?” 

“I’m not sure. Emily said I should be ready for brunch and that she, JJ, and Garcia would handle the rest. She mentioned that someone gave her explicit instructions for me to take it easy, so I imagine we’ll probably be skydiving and binge drinking.”

“You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” Aaron asked dryly. 

“Yeah, actually, I do.” You smiled over at him, and the corners of his mouth quirked up before he could force them into their usual stoic line. 

There’s a knock at the door, and you shoot up. “That’s Em.” 

Aaron places a hand on your forearm as you trot past. “Hey.” His gentle voice stops you in your tracks. “Be safe, please? Be vigilant, and call me if anything happens?” He looks up at you, and you can see the lines of concern etched around his dark brown eyes.  

“Nothing’s going to happen, Aaron.” You placed your hand on top of his. “Enjoy your day with Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

There’s a moment that passes between you, and you almost think you’re going to lean and give him a peck on the cheek to say goodbye, but Emily knocks again and you’re both distracted. You roll your eyes at yourself as soon as your back is to Aaron. Clearly these painkillers were taking their toll on you.

When you and Emily arrived at the restaurant, JJ and Garcia were already at an outdoor table waiting for you. The four of you chatted and laughed over pancakes and coffee and fruit before walking around the downtown area shopping. Then JJ started leading you down a less-familiar street. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, picking up your pace a little to walk next to JJ, who was at the front of your four-person group on the sidewalk. 

“That is for us to know, and you to find out.” She winked at you with a smile before taking off ahead. You let her, falling into step with Penelope. 

“You know, too?” 

“Of course I do, kitten. But I’m not spoiling the surprise! Just be patient.” 

You know better than to even try with Emily. You just rolled your eyes, chuckling a little at your friends’ antics. Eventually, JJ is leading you up the steps of a brownstone, set back a little way from downtown. 

“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly. 

“We’re just taking a peek.” JJ said, opening the door and leading you up to a second-floor unit. 

“This feels illegal.” You remark as Emily produces a pair of keys. 

“I know the owner,” she tells you, swinging the door open and letting you walk inside first.

Natural sunlight pours into the empty apartment. You look to the left and see a granite kitchen island, and crisp white cabinets situated between stainless steel appliances. The space that you assume to be the living area is open, and the room is of course void of furniture, but it’s not hard to imagine a loveseat in the center of the room, a chaise along the far wall, a coffee table in the middle, an open bottle of wine and all of your friends filling the empty space. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask with a little chuckle. 

“Well, we know that Josh’s name is on the lease at your current place.” Penelope starts. “And you just have a lot going on right now, and we wanted to help, so we were looking at some places for you. If you don’t like this one that’s fine, I have a whole catalogue of others sorted by distance from work and walkability and--” 

“You guys didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” You smiled. 

“We wanted to.” JJ tells you. 

“Well, what do you think? Go, look at the bedroom.�� Emily prods, and you smile, swinging open the door across the room, revealing a large open bedroom and an en-suite bathroom with a truly gorgeous tile shower. 

“The place looks great, Em, it really does. I’m just going to have to think about it. There’s been a lot going on.” You understate. 

“Of course.” She responds. 

“Not to mention the fact that Hotch barely wanted to release me into your care for the night, so I’m not sure he’ll take well to me moving further than his guest room.” You laughed. 

“He’s got it, bad.” JJ comments offhandedly, and your jaw hits the floor. 

“Jennifer!” You chastise her.

“What? You can’t possibly play dumb here.” She asks. 

“I literally couldn’t have less of a clue what you’re talking about. Hotch has only ever been platonic and professional with me.” You denied.

“Well, of course, but he’s different with you.” Emily defends JJ. 

“Different how?”

“He’s--- he’s just different, sweet cheeks. He lets his walls down, and only by 10% or so, but for Hotch, that’s major.” Garcia supplies.

“He’s protective of you in the field.” JJ notes. 

“He’s protective of all of us in the field. We just get partnered up a lot.” You defend him, although you don’t know why. You’d want nothing more than to let them convince you that you meant something to Hotch the same way he meant something to you, but you couldn’t let yourself believe that. It would only mean more heartbreak later. 

“And who makes that decision?” Garcia reminds you.

“And it’s not just the field. He doesn’t even like it when the local cops look at you the wrong way or give you a hard time.”  Emily adds.

“You all need to get away from work more. You’re profiling when there’s nothing there.” You argue weakly. 

“You’ll see,” JJ smiles, rolling her eyes at you. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But you might want to put a little thought into why your first worry about getting a new place is what Hotch would think.” 

The rest of the day found you back at Emily’s place, lounging around in comfy clothes and binging shitty rom-coms. You ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner, and passed around twizzlers and coca cola like you were at a middle school sleepover. It was nice. Great, even. Josh wasn’t the biggest fan of your coworkers, and you had grown more distant from them over your time with Josh. The conversation was breezy and light, the evening full of laughter. It wasn’t until later, when everyone was cleaning up and preparing to head out, that your tone became a little more serious. 

“Thank you guys, seriously.”

“You know you don’t have to thank us for eating takeout and watching movies in our sweats.” JJ tells you with a smile as she tosses some candy wrappers.

“And you know that’s not what I’m thanking you for. I know I wasn’t the best friend when Josh and I were together.” 

“Clearly that wasn’t your fault.” Emily reminds you. 

“Maybe not, but I still appreciate everything you all did for me today. I missed you.”

“We missed you too, bug.” Garcia said, wrapping you up in a hug. “Just don’t tell boss man that we stayed past your bedtime.”

You let out a laugh. “He’s so ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously in loveeee,” JJ sings out teasingly. 

“Watch it, or I’ll tell him you kept me out late drinking!” You joked with her as you and Emily walked JJ and Garcia out the door. You and Emily bid your goodnights to each other as you slipped into her spare room, stretching out across the bed lazily. You feel your phone start to vibrate, but you can’t for the love of god remember which zippered pocket of your go-bag you’d left it in. When it stops vibrating, you let out a frustrated groan. Finally, you find it, in the pocket of the jeans you’d worn to brunch this morning. You have a missed call from Aaron, which you return immediately, flipping back over to lie against the mattress. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

You check the time briefly, rolling your eyes a little. It’s not even midnight. “No, I was awake.” You tell him. 

“Did the girls just leave?” He asks casually, but you know Garcia probably wasn’t joking about Hotch enforcing a bedtime. 

“A while ago. I was in the shower when you called.” 

“You’re an awful liar, you know.” He chuckles at you. 

“I thought we agreed that you were going to let all this parental energy out on Jack.” You responded, hoping he could hear the smirk in your voice. 

“I just don’t want you to push it.” Hotch confesses with a sigh. 

“Hotch, I’m okay. Really. You got me out of there and got me patched up. I’m good now.” you tell him, sitting up against the pillows. 

“I also let you go home with him that night after I saw him hit you.” He reminds you, and although you can’t actually see him, your mental picture of him, head hung and thumb running anxiously against his fingers, is startlingly real.

“I made that choice, Hotch. You gave me an out and I chose not to take it.” You reminded him. “That’s on me.” 

“No, it’s not. This wasn’t your fault.” He’s quick to correct you 

“Not yours, either.” You add.

“He pulled a gun on you that night.” He says, more to himself than to you. 

“Yeah, he did.” You said quietly.

“If I had let you go home with him, and he had--” He starts to spiral, but you pull him out of it. 

“Aaron. I’m right here on the phone with you. You came and got me out of there. I’m okay.” 

“I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t-- I can’t imagine a world without you in it.” He confesses, sounding breathless even though you were sure he was just sitting on the sofa at home. 

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.” You tell him. “Is that why you called?”

“It’s good to hear your voice.” He answers, in his own roundabout way. “Did you have a good day?” 

“Yeah, I did. What about you and Jack?” 

“Yeah, we did. We didn’t quite get the training wheels off yet, but we’re getting there. He’s so excited to see you tomorrow.” 

“He is?” You asked. 

“He is. Are you surprised? He’s not exactly shy about how much he likes you.” 

“No, I guess not,” you laugh, remembering a time he had nearly knocked you over in Aaron’s doorway with the force of his hug. “What did you tell him?’

“I just told him that you’d been feeling a little sick, and that you were going to be staying here until you were feeling better.”

“And he was okay?” 

“His exact words were ‘is she too sick to build legos with me,’ so yeah, I think he’s okay.” He laughed, and you tried to push down the sense of warmth that the sound of his laughter spread throughout your chest. It didn’t work. He interrupted your internal dilemma without realizing it. “I should let you get to sleep.” 

“Try to catch a few hours yourself, Hotchner.” You tell him. 

“I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” 

“Hotch?” You say before he can hang up the phone. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“I can’t imagine a world without you in it, either.” You tell him in a whisper that’s almost self-conscious.

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.”

tagging:  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner

[starbase-yorktown]

The Ghostbusters’ Keeper, Part 5

Author’s Note: ok NOW it’s done. this fic is my contribution to the fanon sub-genre of “so Janine is actually psychic she’s just off on timing, and she was the one who found Egon, right?” GB:A compliant/canon feasible.

Word Count: 4.2k || Tagged People: @leah-halliwell92 @oddities-and-endings

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Warnings: swearing if you avoid that sort of thing. also did y’all see haunting of hill house? y’all remember “I was right there and nobody could see me. none of you could see me”? yeah. sorry :)

+++

Egon stayed there, half-present in the hall, until the car pulled onto the highway and left him and Janine alone once more. It wasn’t that he wanted to go anywhere else at the moment—far from it. He wanted to lurk and sulk and partake liberally in self-recrimination, but the energy around Janine was shifting and changing. A stalwart resolution flared within her, akin to  her resolve of old, and he followed it like a moth to flame as she shut the front door and set off across the yard to his shed.

He couldn’t stop the small, quirking smile of adoration that pulled at one corner of his mouth as she opened his glasses, propped them atop her own head, and then slid down the  pole into the dark. He waited a few seconds, as was customary for safety purposes, and followed her down.

He landed not to darkness as he’d expected, but light, and he watched as Janine meandered through his lab, illuminating her way bulb by bulb as she revisited each echo of him left behind. He followed  after a few seconds, once again to ensure some buffer space between them, and scrutinized each object she touched.

Soldering iron. Needle nose pliers. Ghost trap schematics, both original and revamped. Several sets of blueprints: of the farm, some old mines, a partially disassembled proton pack....

The shattered kaleidoscope of the last 24 hours of his life began to come together, the glittering shards turning and aligning at an infuriatingly glacial pace. He almost had it. He could almost see the grander picture, was just a few pieces away from being able to forcibly cram the whole fractured mess together into an intact enough whole to understand.

And while he couldn’t quite remember his final project or the logistics of what he’d been facing, he felt the emotion associated with it.

Phantoms of urgency, panic, and desperation haunted his ghostly steps, filling him with vibrating echoes of his living motivation. The final, mortal intent crowding his mind and compressing his ribs tasted like graveyard earth—of grim, pained resolve.

He came upon a photo of himself and the guys back in ’84, standing shoulder to shoulder: so defiant, so sure of their invincibility, so unaware of what the distant (and not so distant) future held. His eyes lingered on each of them, but he’d have been lying if he’d said they didn’t linger on Ray longest of all.

Regret.

His photo of Callie smiled up at him from the other end of his workstation, and he looked between it and her wall with heartache so strong that he began to ponder the logistics of developing Takotsubo cardiomyopathy after one had already died.

Apology.

“…Janine, what was I doing here?”

The metallic clang of the uniform locker opening drew his attention back to his companion in full, and he watched as she zipped up his uniform one last time. The phantom of memory swept over him as she did, scores of jobs, of back-to-back shifts that left them all delirious with sleeplessness and fumbling with their zippers and the way they’d snag in the fabric.

Memory of her hands batting his away with annoyed affection before freeing the damned thing and zipping him up.

Go get ‘em, cowboy, she’d drawl with a pat on his chest or cheek and a particular smile on her face that would make his face heat up until he pivoted away and tumbled into Ecto, her siren already wailing under Ray’s quick hands.

“What in the world…”

He blinked. Memory faded to reality, past sensation replaced by present input, and he tilted his head with a confused frown to match Janine’s as her attempt to return his glasses to their customary spot in his breast pocket failed. He made his way toward her in open curiosity.

What would I have had in—

He stopped as she reached inside and, after a baffled beat, began to laugh.

Oh, no.

Janine pulled out a half-eaten Crunch candy bar that, based on the wrapper, had to have been thirty years old at best. Her laughter redoubled as she, too, dated the food, and he propped his hands on his hips in beleaguered irritation as her cackling forced her to sit down before she fell over.

“It’s not that funny,” he glared, looming over her but still staying out of reach.

She wiped her eyes beneath her glasses, laughter gradually lessening while she continued to grin like the sun. Despite himself, Egon felt his own lips twist into an embarrassed, self-deprecating smile beneath his beard.

“I hope to God you didn’t eat this recently.”

His mouth fell open in wounded offense.

“Who do you think I am? Venkman?” he demanded, and, like an errantly struck baseball with an impeccable sense of comedic timing, another memory smacked him square in the forehead.

Wait.

It was last year at that late hour of the night prime for bad decision making; he’d been up for approximately 34 hours working on something related to the proton packs, was digging through a box of old firehouse supplies in search for more washers and instead found….

Shit.

He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to assume a lofty, indifferent expression.

“And if I did, what of it?”

He largely failed.

“Thank you, Egon.” Janine pushed herself to her feet and returned his favorite snack to his pocket. “I needed that.”

Her mirth and his bashful embarrassment gave way once more to gentle heartache as she stayed there by his uniform, holding to and eventually burying her face in its chest. It faded into goodbye, into I’m sorry, and I’m still here.

Egon’s hands slipped into his pockets as he assumed that customary professor’s stance of his. He came to stand beside Janine and watched her with kind, steadfast eyes.

“You rest now, okay?”

He smiled, soft and small at her, as she pressed a kiss to his name tag and caressed the embroidered letters.

“As soon as I can,” he promised.

“I…I’ll try to let our boy know,” she continued, her eyes pulling to Ray’s uniform behind his own in quiet apology for inevitable failure. Egon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then reached into the locker himself, his hand phasing through the decades-old STANTZ. “But y’know how it is gettin’ him to pick up the phone nowadays.”

How deeply must he have hurt Raymond, he wondered? How harsh had Egon’s actions seemed to him that he was so wounded, so shattered—that this loud, buoyant man had cut himself off so entirely from his former best friend and anyone who still associated with him? Egon would almost call it an overreaction, but he also knew Ray. He knew how deep the waters of his love ran, how hard and fast and thoroughly he fell for anyone he cared about. He knew how cruelly betrayal and the feeling of being taken advantage of cut him, and he could only imagine what Egon doing what he’d done had felt like.

Egon had been the heads to his tails, the only other person in their motley family who spoke his language, who understood without questioning how his mind worked. The same dysfunction, the same gift, bound them together in a way he couldn’t even put into words. The level of trust they’d built between them over decades of friendship, that life-long bond, was unquestionable….

Until Egon—the one person who should’ve been safe, constant—turned around and set fire to it all, at least from Ray’s point of view.

I wouldn’t talk to me, either.

Raymond. He curled his fingers into the fabric, trying and failing to grab hold of it. Please, believe me when I say that I’m so, so sorry.

Janine looked to Callie’s wall, and Egon turned with her, his hand trailing from Ray’s uniform back to his side.

And Callie…there are no words to express what I’ve done for you, let alone to you.

Janine’s hand patted the chest of his uniform in that way she always had. “And…I’ll let Callie know, too. I promise, however this ends up, you’ll be with family.”

A knife of panic and dread skewered through Egon’s chest in place of comfort and relief, powerful enough that he stumbled, faltered, and lapsed once more into that useless in-between.

You’ll be with family.

Family.

The last fragments of lost memory slipped into place, the pieces rotating faster now, coming together.

He looked around himself, his wide, harried eyes catching on seemingly everything in the lab: the names on the uniforms, the technological echoes of a past he couldn’t bear to leave behind and a future he couldn’t help but defend against; the photo of himself, Peter, Winston, and Ray; the photos of Callie, Trevor, and Phoebe; Janine—

A family forged in the chaos of parapsychology, science, and death and sealed atop a New York high rise in the flames of—

The kaleidoscope aligned.

GOZER.

He remembered everything: the mines, the cornfield, the house, an adrenaline-clouded fight in the chair, then nothingness. And now that he did, his brain flooded with abject chaos.

Janine, she’s here! She’s here, and she wasn’t supposed to check in for another two days but she’s here, and she’s calm like she already knew—good God, she actually is psychic. All this time, I dismissed her. All the wasted opportunities for study-no! Focus! She’s here, and she’s alone, and she’s NOT RAYMOND. Raymond was who I needed, and now she’s going to call Callie, and Ray probably still won’t come, but the kids will, and—

He came back to his senses and the lab only to find himself in pitch darkness.

They’re all in danger. I need to warn Janine.

And in that moment of desperate need, all his intent and focus tunneled on that singular thought of Janine, I need to warn Janine, something strange and new happened. Egon felt himself compress and contort, as if time and space were folding around him in an unsettling, twisting vacuum effect, as if he were simply winking out of existence. The sensation was over as soon as it’d occurred, as quick as a snap, and Egon covered his eyes with his hands as he was blinded by the risen sun.

He now stood before the porch of his house, dazed, and feeling a little thin.

Well, that was new. And draining. He’d have to play around with that later.

He flew up the steps, passing through the shut front door without issue into the foyer, and practically skidded right into the stairs with the speed of his approach. Janine was right where he’d suspected: standing before his death chair and staring at it with an oddly intense focus from behind her glasses.

He could read her intent as plainly as if it’d been written across her face.

“Janine,” he warned and extended his hands to her in a warding, cautioning gesture. “Do not do this.” She slowly turned around, reaching back for the ripped and torn arms as she did. “Do not sit in the chair, Ja—”

She sat down, and Egon froze. He watched the way her hands gripped and worried the ends of the arms in the exact same manner he had in his final moments. She closed her eyes. Her breath grew nervous and caged.

“Oh, shit,” he deadpanned. He slipped into the room and tried again to make himself heard. The PKE meter flickered but didn’t alarm. “Janine, get up,” he ordered firmly. “Don’t—”

She began to shift and shrink into the chair, fighting to pass herself off as nonchalant and uncaring even as something menacing closed in on her.

Please, not this. Don’t make her feel this, don’t make her see this.

He had to get her out of the chair. He came up behind her and, focusing intently, tried to push her out of the seat from behind or at the very least rock the chair forward and dump her on the floor. He only succeeded in stumbling right into her, and he gritted his teeth against the contact. For a moment, Janine’s breath hung in a frost before her lips, and she fought the urge to shudder.

“Get up!”

The PKE meter started up beneath them, lights flashing and wings lifting, and Egon’s spine lit up with electric terror as he caught the same psychic echo Janine had mired herself within.

Behind you, behind you, BEHIND YOU—

“JANINE!” Egon bellowed, heaving one last time, and the world disappeared in a whirlwind of black, nighttime summer air, and clamping pressure across his arms, his chest, his throat. He fought for his life, struggling to lash out and getting nowhere and desperate, last chance, I’m sorry I’m sorry, he rammed his hand toward his own chest—

PAIN.

Egon came to, sprawled on his back behind the chair as he gasped for air and clawed at his chest and throat. Zuul was long gone. Vinz was still safe, locked away beneath the floorboards. Janine had herself braced along the windowsill, head bowed as she gulped down air herself and pressed her hand over her racing heart. 

Repeating trauma triggered by a psychic individual’s influence on residual, latent PKE. Fantastic.

Janine, he wheezed in the silence of his mind, reflexive tears slipping from the corners of his eyes to track along his temples into his hair. What the fuck?

He twisted onto his stomach and returned to his wobbly feet. He watched the PKE meter as he did like it was a living thing, a little frazzled and wild-eyed, and stayed as far away from it as he could.

I killed myself. I fucking killed myself. I didn’t mean to do that.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Janine re-entered his myopic view, oblivious to his rattled, threadbare state. She looked only marginally better herself, and she ran her hand along the back of the chair. “I’ll be back. You just rest…”

She smiled, sad and tender, and he tried to take a step toward her only to nearly unravel back into oblivion. “Jani—dammit!”

“You’ve done enough,” she finished as if he’d never spoken at all and left the room.

No! he wanted to yell and struggled after her, fighting to pull his meager existence back into something firmer. That’s the goddamn problem, I haven’t!

“Janine, wait!”

She headed down the hall, running her hand through her hair and adjusting her glasses, and Egon came right up beside her, trying to dip into her line of sight as they walked side by side.

“Janine, listen to me: you’re in danger. You’re all in danger.” She fished the farmhouse keys from her purse and didn’t break pace. “Do not call Callie and the kids, don’t call them. It’s Gozer—they’re returning to our dimension! Now!”

The more he talked, his desperate need to escape this damned farm bleeding into every word, the faster she walked. But still, she didn’t seem to hear him or grasp his intent beyond that pressure to leave. He passed directly through the front door as she all-but slammed it shut behind her.

“I-I’ve bought us some time, but you need to call Ray,” he ordered. He searched her eyes and face for any sign of recognition as she locked the door and found none. As she rooted around in her bag for her car keys next, he tried again. “Raymond!” he shouted, waving his arms in an absurd attempt to draw some sort of attention to his cursed existence. “Winston! I’ll even take Venkman right now, or Louis Tully!” he begged. She found her keys and started down the steps of the porch and across the front yard, lost in her own heavy thoughts. “Dana would be more competent than either of them, just don’t call Callie!”

She wasn’t listening. She couldn’t hear him, she was going to call Callie, she’d give up on getting Ray to pick up the phone, she was going to come back to this farm alone. They were all going to get hurt, or worse. Every sacrifice he’d made was for nothing; everything he loved was disintegrating before his very eyes, sifting between his fingers that couldn’t fucking touch anything. Helpless, wet anger overwhelmed him until—

“I NEED YOU TO PAY ATTENTION, I—”

Janine jumped clean out of her skin and spun to face him where he stood at the very edge of his territory in the front yard. His voice lodged in his throat, and he waited with bated (hypothetical) breath, hoping to whatever cosmic entity had decided his life was going to be this twisted of a joke that she could at least sense him.

Her eyes scanned the entire house and never once lingered on him.

His gut sank like a stone dragging him to drown at the bottom of the ocean, and his eyes burned with tears. She didn’t sense him…or if she did, she didn’t know to label it as him, as Egon. And he realized, his hope draining away like a cut artery, that while his articulation of thought had grown clearer and sharper within his own existence, each breakthrough to Janine’s had cost him dearly. After everything, he was nothing more to her than vague sensations and emotions, and he reached for her with a finely trembling hand.

She was just at the limit of his reach, her arms drawn up to her chest in a lingering gesture of her momentary fright.

His fingertips skimmed through her wrist without any flash of heat.

She didn’t even shiver. 

Janine began to back away with an uncertain light of fear in her eyes, still staring right through him as she surveyed the farm.

“No, wait,” Egon begged. “Stop.” She turned and openly fled to her car, scrambling to get inside and on her way. “Janine, stop, you need to listen to me!”

He ran after her, clearing a few more feet of the front yard, and then all forward momentum ceased. He came to a jerking stop, as if he were held fast by some sort of anchor that stretched from his sternum to an unknown point in the house behind him.

“Wh…” He stopped, breath ragged, and looked around himself in dawning despair. “No.” Janine’s car came to life, and she turned into the driveway. “No, no, come on!”

He threw himself against the barrier of his own existence, digging his feet in and stretching as far as he could with scrabbling fingers. That smell of ozone began to build around him. The lights in the house began to flicker.

“Come on,” he gritted between clenched teeth, body trembling beneath the strain. “COME ON!” 

He took one, ragged, half-step forward, and a staggered set of footprints furrowed into the earth, jagged and deep.

His family, he had to help his family, Janine, the people he loved, he had to—

I NEED YOU TO SEE ME.

He tried to take another step, and he screamed, raw and wordless, into the nothingness of his existence as he only managed to lift his leg halfway from the earth. The footprint in the parched dirt sank deeper, stones grinding against each other beneath some invisible, strenuous weight. The lights of the house flared brighter and brighter as the anguish in Egon’s yell exponentially grew. The lab and the barn ignited alongside him; he could feel their electricity building, could smell the stench of a lightning storm about to break.

He would do this. For them, for her, he would do this, he would shatter the bonds of his fucking haunting, he would—

He wrenched forward, Janine pulled onto the highway, and like the snapping of a rubber band, the house tore Egon back within its walls. The breaker blew, the lights went dark, and Egon’s entire sense of self obliterated as he ripped through the mantle, a couple walls, and finally slammed right back into that damned chair. The heavy recliner tipped back on its hind legs beneath his impact, landed once more with an almighty bang, and silence laid steadily over the farmhouse once more, broken only by the faint wobble of a spinning coin falling still on the wooden floorboards in the other room.

For a few minutes, Egon existed as only a thin abstract, even more tenuous than when he’d first appeared in death. He was spent: physically, psychokinetically…emotionally. The PKE meter intermittently chirped and whirred, reflecting his oscillating, listless existence in a cruel, live commentary.

Finally, a faint echo of his former self reformed. He stared across the floor into the other room, still slumped side-long in the damned chair, exhausted and wrung-out. His eyes and nose burned as he identified the source of that sound of metal spinning out to rest.

Janine’s good luck coin glinted in the rising sun from where it’d been knocked off the mantle as the house violently reclaimed him. The silence turned thick and mournful.

He drifted from the chair and with some time and difficulty made his way about the room in a glacial, spectral imitation of dissociated pacing.

She’ll be back. She said she’d be back…right?

…What about Raymond? …Will he come? …Will Callie and the kids? …I hope…I hope….

…..What did he hope?

Gozer’s mountain stared him down from the distance in gloating triumph, a monument to every failure, to that most ultimate victory the ancient deity had claimed over him not twelve hours ago. Part of him wanted to flinch away from it, to shrink and retreat.

So, he stared it down instead, fragile and threadbare, with tears still shining in his eyes.

He thought of Janine with her love and tenderness. Thought of the way she tended to him with every ministration a sign of her hope for his peaceful rest.

You’ve done enough

He was the Dirt Farmer. He was Egon Spengler. For ten years, he’d stood guard here, and that didn’t stop just because he was dead. He made his way with a little more ease and direction this time to that shining point of reflecting light beyond the confines of his death room. He knelt before it slowly and glared at the damned thing with intense, burning focus.

I shouldn’t take it; we might not be coming back. Take it anyway. I’ve got another one at home.

Never. It would never be enough.

For a full half hour, he sat there, kneeling in absolute stillness before Janine’s old coin. He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. There was no need for such facsimiles of life anymore. There was only him and this coin and this moment, as he thought of the danger coming for his loved ones. He thought of how unprepared and vulnerable they were, how blind they were to their ongoing tip over the precipice and what lied below. He thought of the fiery devotion he possessed for them still, the depths to which he’d gone and the sacrifices he’d made and what he still had to give.

He reached for the coin.

His fingers closed around its edges, solid and sure.

The Dirt Farmer’s house stood empty, and a single commemorative coin from the World’s Fair in Flushing Meadow, 1964 lifted, seemingly of its own accord, from the floor and returned to its spot on the mantle.

Defend, the instinct purred, self-satisfied and hungering.

The fire returned to Egon Spengler’s eyes, the challenge, the bite me, the “YOUR MOTHER—” that burned beneath his dazzling intellect. He stalked with slow, methodical purpose to the front window of the house and glared at Gozer’s mountain. Its stark outline seemed less intimidating, now, less of an impenetrable behemoth and more Troy celebrating the arrival of a grand horse after their defeat of the Greeks. 

“I’m coming for you, you prehistoric bitch. You thought I was a pain in your ass when I was alive? Wait until you meet me dead.”

He turned around, every molecule of his strange existence thrumming with readiness to storm into battle, and then abruptly stopped as his eyes lit upon one of the many collections of books in the room. His dark, challenging expression pivoted to intrigue that in turn flickered into something almost…puckish. His eyes widened, eyebrows arching into his forehead, and his mouth pulled into an eager smile smothered behind tightly closed lips—even now, trying to contain himself.

He glanced over his shoulder to the mountain and then back to the books. He could practically feel the itching in his palms.

Just a few, then, he told himself and dove in. Just a few before Janine gets back.

For Raymond.

Then, he’d get to work resetting that breaker. He had a lot of work to do.

+++

Janine Melnitz returned as the sun set behind the mountain, arms laden with a week’s worth of groceries and her cellphone pinned between her shoulder and her ear as she returned a callback from Chicago. She fumbled with the keys at the lock and didn’t notice as the handle clicked and the door opened of its own accord a fraction of a second before she managed it herself. 

+++

Dirt Farmer’s house stood on the plains, not a living soul within its walls. Lights flickered on and off. Doors slammed. Curtains moved to and fro. The cornfields tossed and whispered in the night, and the bottles hanging from the trees chimed and clinked in warning amid the rusted junkyards.

But while the house might have stood empty, it certainly didn’t stand alone.

It never had and never would.

[peachy-panic]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 3: “WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

This is the next chronological piece of Do No Harm, continued directly from this chapter.

Tag list: @whumpervescence  @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump

WARNINGS: Medical procedures, referenced/implied noncon, slavery setting, the usual.

The young doctor seems a bit skittish and far less cruel than the other Facility employees, and that comes with the dangerous notion that perhaps he doesn’t plan on hurting him. But that notion requires a naivety of which Jaime is no longer capable. He, of all people, is aware that cruelty can disguise itself in many shapes and sizes. Just because it isn’t obvious doesn’t mean it isn’t there, and that only makes it all the more dangerous.

There’s no use in hoping either way, he decides. Dr. Tate will either hurt him or he won’t, will either touch him or he won’t, and Jaime can’t — won’t — react. He has already made that mistake once today and will certainly pay for it later in ways he doesn’t want to think about now. He would do well to remember that he doesn’t hold any power here. Not in this room, this building, this life. And that, despite any arbitrary written rules, Dr. Tate is free to do as he pleases. 

At least he had removed the restraints from his mouth and wrists. Jaime can console himself with this small mercy. 

Those had always been the worst part of nights with Mr. Torley, on the all-too-frequent occasions he decided to use them. He was clearly very into them, and even more into Jaime’s fear of them. In addition to the claustrophobia they stoked in him, the use of restraints in bed had always felt something like a mockery. What use was it to restrain someone who can’t fight back regardless? The binds on his wrists and ankles were nothing more than accessories. The shackles in his mind did all the work to keep him still. And Mr. Torley knew that.

He does his best not to think about that now. Not to think about Mr. Torley at all, since that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Distantly, he wonders how long the influence of his first Keeper will continue to stain Jaime’s existence beyond the termination of their six-month contract.

Dr. Tate, who has been buried in the cabinets above the sink for several minutes, turns back to him sporting bright-blue gloves that adhere tightly around his slender hands. He meets Jaime’s eyes for half a second before his gaze darts somewhere just to the left of his shoulder. 

“We need to run a couple of tests,” he says in a detached, clinical voice, all notes of lightheartedness from earlier removed. “I’ll need to collect some samples from you.”

Jaime nods once in acknowledgement, squeezing his fingers tightly, unconsciously around the edge of the table. There’s an unnatural pause in his cadence, and Jaime when looks up, he watches a slight twitch of movement in the doctor’s jaw. 

“Please remove your pants and underwear,” Dr. Tate says, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “You can leave them on up to your thighs, if you’d like.”

The slight shift in demeanor sets Jaime on edge, but he doesn’t hesitate at the command, even as a familiar panic claws at the inside of his throat. He drops forward from the table, his legs taking his weight. His thumbs hook the waistband of the thin, cotton pants he had been returned in, and he doesn’t allow himself a moment of hesitation before pushing them unceremoniously off his hips. He takes Dr. Tate up on his merciful offer to keep them partially on his body. The cold, sterile air inside the clinic is sharp against his exposed skin.

Jaime’s eyes find the ceiling as he prepares for the touch he knows is coming. He doesn’t look to see whatever tools and instruments Dr. Tate is laying out on the silver tray beside the exam table. He doesn’t have to. “We need to run a couple of tests.”  Whatever foolish hypotheticals Jaime once held in regards to WRU — what they did and didn’t know about the treatment of their wards — had long been shattered. 

Of course they needed to test him for sexually transmitted diseases. They can’t have a Domestic Companion spreading something to the next paying customer that buys their time and exposing their innocent charade. 

There’s a pause in Dr. Tate’s movement, but Jaime doesn’t look away from his spot on the ceiling tile.

“I’m going to touch you, now.” Dr. Tate’s voice is low and measured. “I need to examine you for bumps or sores, any abnormalities.” He clears his throat. “And I’ll take a swab from your urethra. It might be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt you.” Another pause. “Please, tell me if it does.”

Jaime’s grip on the table tightens, but he otherwise doesn’t react. Distantly, he is grateful for the warning, the bare explanation, mortifying as it is. He knows that the doctors here are not obligated to explain anything to the Companion patients, to seek consent in any form. Their consent was implicitly given in the contracts they signed at intake. He just as easily could have left Jaime gagged and bound to the table and gone about the procedure without so much as a word to him. Jaime is glad he hadn’t. 

Instead, Dr. Tate’s touch is light and professional. His gloved hands don’t linger, they don’t poke and prod to get a reaction from him. It seems, even, that he touches him as little as possible. Almost as if he is as eager to get this over with as Jaime is, which doesn’t feel quite possible. 

The fluorescent strip of light next to his focal point on the ceiling burns at the edge of his vision, but he doesn’t look away, using the mild discomfort as an anchor to hold himself steady. He concentrates on that instead of the gentle touches, gritting his teeth against any traitorous urges his body might provoke. Mr. Torley had loved that about Jaime — his responsiveness to touch — but not as much as he loved using it against him. 

His stomach sours at the memory, fresh humiliation creeping into his cheeks at the idea of something similar happening now. He doesn’t think Dr. Tate would tease him the way his Keeper had, but he still doesn’t relish the idea of becoming physically aroused in front of this young doctor, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than him and, in another life, Jaime might have found pretty. 

The thought is gone almost as soon as it comes, too painful to linger on. The idea of another life. A normal life. A life at all. These are thoughts Jaime is forbidden to have. The phantom sting of an electric shock lights up the column of his throat and Jaime winces.

“Sorry,” Dr. Tate said quickly, misunderstanding the movement and withdrawing his hand. Jaime’s eyes finally fall to his as the doctor takes a step back, inserting the long swab into a glass tube and sealing it with a cap. “The worst part is over.”

Jaime is numb all over, but he nearly laughs. He knows that having stepped foot in this facility again, the “worst part” has not even begun. 

“I’ll need to collect another sample from your mouth,” Dr. Tate continues, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, and Jaime absently wonders why they even bother wasting extra product on the patients here. “And we’ll draw some blood—” 

Something catches his voice mid-sentence and Jaime’s eyes flick up to his again. Dr. Tate looks at him, and then pointedly, hurriedly away. Jaime swears he can see his pale cheeks reddening.

“You can— We’re finished with that part.” He stumbles out. “Feel free to cover yourself up.”

Jaime does as he’s told, finding it somewhere within himself to be grateful that the doctor had kept the procedure professional. He couldn’t say the same thing for every encounter he’d had in the facility clinic before. 

********

Sebastian knows what happens next, and that’s why he finds himself taking his time with the rest of the visit. As soon as he’s completed the mandated intake exam, he is supposed to mark the patient as cleared in his chart and alert the handlers to come collect him. To take him back into the part of the facility where Sebastian has never set foot; the “residential” wing where the unclaimed Companions are housed between contracts. On all the promotional advertisements, it’s depicted as a dormitory-like accommodation. Now that Sebastian knows just how little truth exists behind their lies, he can only imagine it’s nothing of the sort. 

His mind conjures images of iron-barred cells and concrete rooms, of medieval dungeons with chains and darkness and filth. It’s a sensationalized version of what he assumes is probably the truth, but that doesn’t mean the reality is any less horrible. After what he’s seen in his time here and everything he’s heard, he has no doubt that the people who are forced to reside here between Keepers are subject to the company’s own brand of horror. Frankly, he’s in no hurry to turn his patient back over to their hands a moment sooner than he has to.

The boy is silent and entirely pliable throughout the whole exam, allowing himself to be moved when necessary and not so much as flinching when the needles for the blood draw break his skin. Sebastian is glad when the more… invasive parts of the exam are over. The boy had been no less compliant during them, maybe even the opposite, but Sebastian hadn’t missed the subtle changes in his posture, the way the muscles in his hands clenched and released around the edge of the table as he touched him as little as possible. 

He had looked up at the ceiling instead of at the wall behind Sebastian, as he had done previously, and Sebastian had silently prayed that the position wasn’t intended as a way to hold back tears. He doesn’t know how he could live with himself if he made this kid cry.

When the blood has been drawn, the test samples submitted for lab processing, and a full physical performed, Sebastian has run out of ways to delay the inevitable. He closes out of the boy’s patient profile on his screen and turns to him, hands folded professionally in front. 

“I’ll need to alert the handlers that your intake exam is complete,” he told him, probably unnecessarily. He hadn’t looked to see how long he had been in the system, but from his behavior, he assumes it’s been long enough to break his spirit. He probably knows these protocols better than Sebastian ever wants to. “They’ll come and escort you back to the residential quarters.”

110750 nods once without looking at him. “Thank you,” he says flatly. Then, there is a moment of pause before he lifts his eyes and seems to level Sebastian with something more sincere. “Thank you for… for letting me get cleaned up.”

Sebastian feels like shattering into pieces all over the cold linoleum. Instead, he tries for a smile and lands somewhere in the realm of a tight, thin line at his lips. “Sure,” he says, a bit mortified to hear the crack in his voice. 

He watches 110750 take slow, measured breaths as Sebastian makes the call he desperately wishes he didn’t have to make. He tries not to stare as they wait in tense silence for the handlers to arrive. Of course, Sebastian could leave the room if he wants. The intake procedure is done, and so is his minimal obligation to patient care. But something feels wrong about leaving him. More than that, something feels utterly wrong about this boy being taken out of the clinic, away from his line of sight, where he can’t see what will happen next. He only knows it won’t be good. 

A split second before he hears the clinic doors whoosh open, Sebastian steps closer to his patient, lowering his voice to a quick, urgent whisper. “Keep an eye on that broken nose,” he advises. “If you have any trouble breathing as it heals, please don’t hesitate to let your assigned handler know that you need medical attention, okay?”

The boy hitches in a breath but doesn’t respond. Sebastian takes half a step closer. 

“Look, you have a right to medical assistance,” he says, the words feeling like treason on his tongue despite knowing their written truth. “Even here. Even now. You can always come see me here if you need to. They can’t legally prevent you from requesting care. Do you understand?”

Unexpectedly, something dark flashes in the boy’s eyes. Something less like the fear and dread he had witnessed earlier, and something much more akin to anger. Anger at Sebastian?

Before the interaction can go any further, they are interrupted by the unceremonious swing of the exam room door. The same two men who had brought him in - one with a fresh bandage on his face - push their way in, stepping between Sebastian and his patient. 

“Up you go, 7-5-0,” Handler Hernandez barks, and the boy is on his feet before he can finish the command, his hands behind his back, head bowed. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to behave,” the other one - Smith, maybe? - taunts as he sizes him up in a way that makes even Sebastian’s skin crawl. Just as he had prior to the visit, the man shifts his gaze to him, a sneer permanently embedded into his expression. “Does he get a lollipop for good behavior? Maybe a sticker?”

The boy doesn’t look up at him, but Sebastian thinks he sees his throat move. He feels a swell of rage rise into his throat, coming to a boiling point for the second time since he entered the room with this boy, but he swallows it back, keeping as level an expression as he can manage. 

“He was perfectly agreeable,” he responds tightly, refusing to play into whatever mockery he’s initiating. 

Smith answers him with a dismissive snort, turning his attention back to the boy like a predator who just found fresh meat. “What do you say, sweetheart?” He asks, the thick rubber of his boots squeaking against the tile as he takes a step too far into the boy’s personal space. “Think we can go the easy way back, or would you prefer to do things the hard way again?”

The beat of silence in the room is painful as they await his response, which comes eventually in a subdued voice, through slightly gritted teeth and with his eyes on the floor. “The easy way. Sir.”

A snort from Hernandez breaks the tension. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll see about that.”

With that, he is escorted from the room and seems to take with him all the air in Sebastian's lungs. Naively, desperately, he hopes for the briefest moment of eye contact before he’s taken away from him. But his eyes stay downward, even as a large hand curls around his bicep and makes him stumble in his gait as he’s yanked forward. Sebastian watches helplessly as he disappears from sight, one singular thought slicing through his mind on a loop:

Who did this to you?

[reidology]

Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

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