#it was just a special kind of heinous. what is wrong with these two in particular. i'm obsessed. it's disgusting. most fascinating duo.

[immult]

knowing this was asmodeus all along and not ioun was fucked up beyond all fucked btw. i am going to vomit.

[dramioneasks]

Christmas Fics (2024) (Part 6):

Wrapping Chaos by Mirabella29 - E, WIP - Draco Malfoy is a fucking arse. A magical delivery error causes all the gifts ordered by Draco and Hermione to be sent in the wrong place. To her great misfortune, her erotic potion books and sex toys land in Malfoy’s hands, who takes great pleasure in mocking her. Bloody Hell, if she could bury herself alive right now, she would.

All I Want For Christmas is (To Defeat) You by Anonymous - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger built a surprising bond with one of her professors when she returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year. But when she wants to surprise that professor with the perfect Christmas present, a certain someone gets in her way.

We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet by Anonymous - M, one-shot - To avoid suspension after an incident involving a student, Draco Malfoy is forced to spends his holidays at Hogwarts, babysitting the students who are holding over. The only thing that could make this worse is Hermione Granger.

Pansy's Matchmaking Services: A Christmas Miracle by Slytherinked - E, WIP - Pansy has spent the year collecting wants and wishes. Now, it's time for her to produce a Christmas miracle. Maybe then all her friends will stop whining. - “Draco Lucius Malfoy,” she hissed, and his blood ran cold, “get your shit together and stop acting like a petulant three year old. Do as you are told!”

Chaotic christmas by lemidox - M, 17 chapters - Hermione is in a slump, it’s Christmas. She’s single, having atrocious luck and just wants to get in the spirit of things. (Un)luckily she has Theo and Ginny, ready to drag her kicking and screaming into the holiday cheer. Santa fighting dragons, a snowball fight, dreadful gingerbread houses, copious amounts of fire whiskey, slytherin’s plottting and secrets that come to light in this chaotic Christmas special. And let us not forget, hilarity and fluff that leads to smut... eventually 😈

No Space of Regret by New_Ponyo - M, one-shot - Draco Malfoy is engaged to marry Astoria Greengrass on New Year's Eve in less than two weeks. As the wedding night approaches, Draco finds himself more of a wreck than he thought possible. He wakes up in his study with a throbbing headache, the beginning of a black eye, and the ghost of Fred Weasley throwing pistachios at his face. Fred and Draco visit Christmas’s present, past, and future, piecing together what connects them beyond the veil. This is a spin on A Christmas Carol, Dramione style.

Home Truths by Anonymous - M, one-shot - “You know every year I think these things couldn’t possibly get more heinous and every year I am proved wrong.” A silver flask was offered to her but she tipped her champagne glass in lieu of a rejection. “Champaign is for celebrating, unless—did I miss an article in the prophet, have you and Weasley finally split up then?” Malfoy mocked, taking far to much delight in the hypothetical misery. She rolled her eyes at him and huffed in indignation “You’re such a fucking asshole.” “I never claimed to be otherwise but at least I’m an honest asshole.

Mistletoe, Mayhem and... Malfoy by Calliope_dreaming - G, one-shot - When an enchanted mistletoe traps Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger together at a Ministry Christmas gala, completing its whimsical tasks is the only way to break free. As they bicker through decorating trees and dodging exploding desserts, old prejudices give way to unexpected truths. Can they uncover the magic of connection under the mistletoe, or will the evening end with more sparks than they bargained for?

So this is Christmas; War is Over by kiyoshikiyoshi - not rated, WIP - “How did you find me” She demanded savagely. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted to be in a cabin and die in the forest after all this is over” He looked at her rather more intently now. For a moment, Hermione froze. These were passing events, deviations from the war that she was trying to forget. After the war, Hermione Granger retreats to an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere. Somehow, Draco Malfoy finds her. In the stillness of winter, they learn to live life as it was once again.

I Just Want a Heist for Christmas by Anonymous - M, one-shot - Congratulations, you are invited to the first annual Hogwarts Christmas Heist! The Goal: Steal the Portrait of Snape

mine by Anonymous - E, one-shot - “You’ll behave for me, won’t you baby?” Draco played with her curls, before roughly grabbing her neck and forcing her attention on him. He stared at her, his eyes darkening in mere seconds as he waited for an answer from his little girl. “Answer me.” “I’ll behave.” Hermione whimpered. “Do you promise me?” He commanded, his grip on her curls tightening.

Gift-Wrapped by swift_knight - E, WIP - Hermione Granger-Malfoy is a good girl, but her plans for her husband's Christmas present—all tied up with a pretty red bow—might cause her name to end up on the naughty list.

Do You Hear What I Hear by Yeuxverts - E, one-shot - Unspeakables Granger and Malfoy have to spend Christmas Eve in a non-magical tent in Scotland, huddling for warmth. Despite her earlier assertion about compliments, whatever classification of her that was about to leave his mouth was likely to be unflattering. She attempted a deflection via academic nitpick. “Malfoy, I’m trying to sleep, but on the subject, you know you can’t have a species that’s just one person. How would I propagate?” “Granger.” He rolled to face her as though now she had his full attention. “It sounds like you just asked me to tell you how to fuck yourself.”

Hagrid's Special Eggnog by Anonymous - M, one-shot - Pansy, on principle, does not do unity.

[quibbs126]

I’m thinking about it now, and honestly I think Miss Heinous’ debut episode foreshadowed her true identity in a number of ways

Though note it’s been a while since I’ve watched the episode so I may get some details wrong

For starters there’s her cheek marks, particularly since they’re clubs, and the series later proved that the card cheek mark characters are all important characters

But to be fair, in Season 1, the importance of the cheek marks probably weren’t that known. Moon and Star had them, and they were other card symbols, but you couldn’t entirely tell if they had a special club theme or not with just them. Not to mention we barely saw Mewni in Season 1, so it really could have just meant Heinous was from Mewni

Though with Eclipsa being teased as having particular importance in Season 2, and us seeing she has spade cheek marks, and then Heinous having that last card symbol, probably would indicate she has more importance than it seems

And also the other two characters with card symbols, Moon and Star, are mother and daughter, so Eclipsa and Heinous sharing the other two card symbols could also be foreshadowing them having a similar relationship

But moving on from the cheek marks, we see in the St Olga episode that Miss Heinous is running it, but is not St Olga herself, which semi implies she is not the first to run this school. Not only this, but when her cheek marks appear, she immediately goes to the Clockwork Orange room or whatever it’s called and watches the videos to suppress them. And this isn’t done by the guards or anything, she does this willingly. And it all sort of implies that she went through the princess brainwashing herself

For starters, this kind of does portray the situation in a more messed up light. This isn’t some old lady who just wants to suppress teenage rebellion and individuality or anything, but instead someone who’s been brainwashed by the school herself and is just continuing this cycle. I don’t entirely remember if this is the case, but you could very well make the case that she genuinely thinks what she’s doing is the right thing because of all this brainwashing

But secondly and relating back to my point, why would have gone through the brainwashing process in the first place? This is a school specifically for wayward princesses. Would this not then imply that Miss Heinous, at least at some point, was a princess? I know in canon she was never recognized as one until Season 4, and she was here for different reasons, but it is a hint as to her true identity

Combine all these factors, and what you end up with using this info is that Miss Heinous was at some point a princess on Mewni, Star’s home dimension. And not only that, but with her cheek marks as explained in the later seasons, she was related to the Butterfly royal family, and specifically possibly Eclipsa. All of which ended up being true. The only thing that didn’t really seem set up (at least from what I recall) is that she’s half monster. But she does share a number of similarities with Globgor’s depiction (poofy white hair, black irises, the nose), so it’s not entirely unfounded?

I don’t know, I know we all found out her identity years ago, so it doesn’t really matter, but it’s interesting to me how much is foreshadowed from her first appearance, and it makes me think the writers planned this aspect of her character from very early on

[lockandkeyhyena]

TW for incest, CSA, and abuse!!

My therapist tells me that, fundamentally, there are two types of people in our world.

1. People who are abused, struggle to cope, and then repeat the cycle

2. People who are abused but then break the cycle, people who want to stop it from ever happening to someone else

I feel like theres more nuance, but not in a way I can personally describe.

When I was a young child, my older brother was in highschool. He was a victim of assault and he didn't know how to cope with it. Now im a victim of CSA. He never apologized to me and we never spoke of what happened. I used to hate him. I wanted horrible, awful things to happen to him. I wanted to see him suffer, just like he made me suffer. I didnt know he already had. Nowadays I dont harbor such a strong hatred towards him and he is well into adulthood. I will never forgive him, and i think what he did to me was, like many people would agree, one of the worst things you could do to someone.

I think the cycle of abuse is a very interesting concept, but also that the real world has much more nuance than it provides.

But I dont hate him anymore. I've seen him grow into a better person. He's not even just a better person, hes a genuinely good person with a kind soul. I don't forgive him or condone his actions, but I know what his mentality was and I see the changes hes made in an effort to be better. I'm at peace with what happened to me now and I dont feel afraid of being around my family anymore.

I do believe that, if given space and time, even someone who's done such things as these, can grow. It's just a matter of if they want to and if they realize they were wrong in the first place. I find your story incredibly compelling, as both a victim, a relative to an abuser, and as someone who's seen the redemption of someone who has done something so heinous in real life. I think you should write your story, I think it brings an odd comfort to people like me and my brother.

Sorry if this was too personal or venty, I didn't mean to come off that way or so strong in your inbox. I felt some of the context was neccessary. I just wanted to offer my perspective, I don't come here looking for sympathy. I wish you the best of luck with your story, genuinely.

this is genuinely such a kind thing of you to say and it means a lot, thank you! while not coming from a personal place of experience with abuse, my story is very important to me and means a lot and it warms my heart that so many people understand where i’m coming from and what i want to do with it.

no need to worry at all about being to personal/venty! asks like this are very special to me and that you can find comfort in my work is very important to me.

[howdyneighborr]

Childhood friends; that's what they'd been. Eric didn't even bat an eye when saw the newsreel of "Leopold 'Butters' Stotch, also known by his alias Vic, or Victor Chaos" being led around in handcuffs by SWAT-geared beefcakes. He wasn’t surprised that the names of his parents were first two on the victims list. Although, the revelation of his body count did cause a twitch and an arch in the man's round face. 'Nine people? Jesus Christ, Butters,' he remembered whispering to himself in his quiet apartment. As if there weren't folders of unscrupulous paperwork strewn across his dining room table less than twenty feet away from his back.

He also remembered thinking, 'That's why you gotta be extra nice to the weird kids in school. Or else, you end up on their fucking hit list.' And Eric had always paid Butters a special kindness that he rarely gave anyone else. Many of his youthful friendships had become estranged, either through distance or mutual aggravation. So Eric never reached out to any of the old gang to sniff out any extra, juicy details or even ask after Butters and if anyone had heard from him. He silently kept up with the trial, the developments in the story, the sentencing all while metaphorically shaking his head at how society could create monsters like that. 

Meanwhile, he remained ignorant to the fact that the IRS was closing in on his scheme and sending law enforcement to his own doorstep. His own arrest and trial were much less of a public spectacle, but there were plenty of people getting off on the idea of Eric Cartman finally getting his Just Desserts. Even if not for his most heinous crimes and behavior. Particularly the judge who slapped him with the maximum sentence for what he could be charged with. And then claimed his prison placement on "overcrowding". 

Eric watched Butt– er, Vic trace his stubby nub of graphite across his surreptitious leaf of paper. He learned to stop asking questions months ago. The lesson taught to him by either ending up on the wrong end of a rusty threat or by leaving the conversation more confused than he entered it. Both reactions he could easily see himself experiencing in regards to the blonde psychopath in his bunk. However, just because the fat man ceased making inquiries, that didn't mean they didn't stop popping up in his head. If Butters… If VIC had connections, if he had access to contraband like pencils and paper, Eric could see the potential there. He was just post-shit musing, anyway. He leaned forward and curled his fat fist around the proffered TP.

"Thanks, Beautiful Mind."

He arched his back as he reached around to wipe the shit out of his fat cheeks and flush the disgusting waste away. After a moment of back pain, Eric finally stood and shimmied his state-issued pants back up over his thick legs. The waistband dug uncomfortably into his padded hips, but he had also gotten used to that, too. Complaining about shit here didn't help. And he had thought juvie was bad.

"Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too, Butters. But can you cool it with the serial killer smile? I already have trouble sleeping on these shitty mattresses as it is without thinking about you staring at my unconscious body with that creepy fucking look on your face." He walked over to join Vic on his bed with a whuff as his mass crash landed. His legs were still a bit tingly and he wasn’t ready to make the trek to the top bunk.

"I guess I can agree," he sighed reluctantly in the middle of his thought, "that it's comforting to at least be in this shithole with a familiar face." Eric turned his head a bit to observe the other man, perhaps even with a bit of fondness.

     @screwyewguys  〢  cont from here .

Vic was drawing, laying on his stomach, turned away from the front of the cell so that guards wouldn’t catch him with a number 2 pencil in hand.  Anything with a point was contraband, especially for him, especially after the last incident.  But in a place like this, there were still ways of getting what you wanted, and Vic stored his treasured utensil in a small makeshift sling under his bed where it would not be easily spotted when the mattress was flipped.

Looking at his doodles of kittens, and looking at him and the blissful way he hummed over them, few people would guess that his body count was sixteen.  He’d only been convicted of nine, including both his parents, the first two.

Vic gripped his pencil forcefully and stared at Eric with vacant eyes when the other man spoke to him.  He could feel the implement piercing a flimsy layer of skin, gliding through fat, splintering in the arteries, his friend’s blood glittering like rubies on his hands and face and walls of their cell.  He had been tempted, when he got his first taste of blood, to march right over to Eric’s house and kill him for years of torment inflicted.  He actually did walk all the way there and climbed the fence into the backyard.  It was sleeting, and Victor Chaos stood there, soaked through to his skin but not noticing the cold.

No sooner had he resolved to go inside, he felt a warmth radiating from him—Butters—and realized how many goosebumps dotted his arms.  Eric was his friend, Butters’ friend.  He was Vic now, but some part of him would always be Butters Stotch, and that part would always adore and admire Eric, no matter how much of a huge bully he was.

Besides, if he killed Eric now, the guards would burst in and seize his presently most beloved possession, which he was nowhere near ready to give up.  His kitten drawings were one of the few solaces he had left—well, except for the man on their cell toilet, of course.

“Sure!” he beamed sunnily at his best buddy, all his homicidal impulses dripping off of him like that sleet from back in the day.  He handed Eric the aforementioned scraps, then sat up, tucking the pencil under the mattress for easy retrieval later.  He did not want to put it fully back in its sling yet.

“You know, I’m really glad you’re in here with me, Eric.  I don’t think they usually put people like us together, but I’ve missed you every day since I got put away!”  Vic’s imprisonment had been huge news for the sleepy town of South Park, a violent serial killer in their midst, but somehow, Eric missed the entire thing, the arrest, the trial, all of it.  He did not care for the news much, apparently.

“I thought about writing you a letter, but I didn’t think they’d let me.”  The guards read his mail before sending it out, and honestly, Vic didn’t trust himself not to write something too disturbing to actually be posted.  “But now you’re here, and I can talk to you every day!”

[sagesilentfire]

(Reposting this because I don't want to take over @dumblemonchickenwing's post, and also I'm going off on a single enormous tangent. Their post really got me thinking, but in a way that’s only tangentially related to the main point!)

(A little background: I'm autistic and nonbinary, and because of that I've always identified with those who are othered by society, especially monsters and creatures no one thinks are intelligent or capable of feeling. That being said, I'm also very white, so I can't judge the racism metaphor from that angle.)

This is a really interesting Watsonian analysis, but from a Doylist perspective I don't think this version of "realistic" should have been what was sought for in the show.

I do have four nitpicks re: your analysis: 1. A deliberately heartless villain who defined himself by his emotionlessness wouldn't use kindness as a weapon to recruit Ludo's monsters. 2. Someone like you described wouldn't walk away from his enemies after they were defeated, he'd just kill them. 3. Adult Toffee isn't any more arrogant than Star is, or at least doesn’t let it get in his way, and despite what MorningMark would have you think it's not really something I got from his canon current-timeline portrayal. And 4. Toffee could easily form relationships with other long-lived Septarians; there's nothing to indicate in canon that he's special for his species.

But let’s assume that your analysis is true. The problem is that all that victimhood and tragedy is subtext. Not explicit. Toffee isn't an explicitly tragic victim or even a knight templar, he's explicitly an obstacle for Star to knock over so she can move on to the real tragic victims: the colonizers.

See, there's two huge differences between Toffee and everyone who came after him. (Meteora, Mina, Moon, and Solaria) The first is that they're all supporting Mewni's colonization. Yes, even Meteora. Far more blatant than any hints of Toffee's personality is the fact that most students of Saint O's are monsters. Even if Heinous turned out to be a monster herself, she was still a very active part of suppressing their personalities and turning them into "one of a million rubber stamps," i.e. very Mewman princesses.

Secondly, despite their crimes being much more, heh, heinous than anything Toffee ever did (threatening genocide, causing a temporary genocide, actually committing genocide), they are all portrayed as tragic, misguided, and pitiful people and are rendered powerless and let go with a slap on the wrist. Or they're Solaria, and they get a tender and totally unrealistic (she wanted to MURDER EVERY SINGLE MONSTER ARE YOU KIDDING ME) moment with their daughter and granddaughter before fading peacefully into the great beyond.

But not Toffee. Toffee has no sympathetic backstory. Star never tries to reason with him or make up for what her family has done to him like she did for Meteora. She doesn't let him walk away powerless like Mina. She doesn't forgive like she did with Moon, or accept him like she did with Solaria, or even revert him back to a baby so he can live a better life like Meteora again.

No. She BURNS HIM ALIVE AND SMILES WHILE SHE DOES IT.

And, and I cannot emphasize this enough, she's never portrayed as being in the wrong for this.

And that's the difference. The colonizer villains are explicitly sympathetic and forgivable, the colonized villain is an obstacle to knock over in one of the most horrific ways to die that I know of, with only subtext and scraps to piece together even a solid personality.

And you know what's worse? Toffee is the only monster who is active in pursuing monster freedom. The rest are just passive dolls there to support Star's initiatives for their equality. We never see a single monster who's actively participating in the fight, just Star (or sometimes Eclipsa) saying "monsters should be allowed to do this/to go here" and then the monsters are there, doing that. Buff Frog is just a yes-man for Star's plans, Tom knows nothing about what other monsters actually experience from his ivory tower, Rasticore may as well not exist, Seth is Schrodinger's raptor and never mentioned in the show, Globgor is Eclipsa's Buff Frog: totally passive and a non-presence even after he's freed, and... wait, are there any more named monster characters in the last two seasons? Ludo, the puppet king for the Butterflys, who the script forgets about almost completely? ...no, that doesn't help the show's case at all... uh... ... uh…

I’m no expert, but, while I’m sure the writers have plenty of Watsonian reasons for this, no matter how you parse it... this is a Bad Look. The show really really fucked up its racism metaphor, is what I'm saying, and it was bad writing all the way down.

It honestly reminds me of Sia's movie Music, where the autistic girl is just a prop to further the character development of the actual main character, who is neurotypical. Or the recent crop of superhero movies where the villain addresses a real-life problem that affects millions, but in, like, a bad, violent way that Needs to be Stopped. Neither of these comparisons are complimentary.

Also, the way Star fixes The Racism forever is genocide, but we don't have time to unpack all of that.

Tl;dr: It makes sense that Toffee is the way he is, but it undermines the whole point the show was going for.

[thewhitejournal]

“Just One More Night” Part Two

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader Series

hi everyone! i really hope you enjoy part two, it’s kind of lengthy i’ll admit. i’m having so much fun with this series so far and i wanna thank y’all for being along on the ride. y’all are the best 🤍

without further ado, onto the story!

content warnings: cursing, heated making out, mentions of pain

-

Four months later...

The first of many alarms on your phone woke you from your sleep with a small jolt. Today was the day; the day you’d worked towards for four years. Graduation day. Your brain was already buzzing despite only being awake for several seconds. Your fingers clicked the power button on your phone like muscle memory, silencing the alarm.

Just as almost every morning, there was one person on your mind: Aaron Hotchner. It had been four months since you had sex with him for the first time, and you’d been meeting up almost every week unless schedules conflicted. You wouldn’t meet if he was in a different state for the weekend, solving a crime. Turns out, he was a government employee; he was Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You didn’t know much else about him, and he didn’t know a whole lot about you either. It was a relationship - could you even call it that? - strictly for sex. No strings or feelings attached.

Except there was one problem; your dumbass had caught feelings. That was the deal from day one. You both decided it would be strictly fucking, nothing else. But hell if you didn’t defy the rules. How could you obey them, anyway, with him? Sure, you didn’t know a lot about him, but you didn’t need to. You fell in love with the way he treated you and the soft, ginger touches and kisses he gave you. Unless, of course, he’d had a bad week. It was a different story, then.

You still slept in his jacket, almost every night. It was your comfort item. It had lost his smell by now, but you loved it for more than just the fact that it used to smell like him. It reminded you of the best man you’d ever met; he treated you like nobody else ever did, in so many ways.

But a real relationship was strictly forbidden; even though his friends from that night (who you now knew as his coworkers) knew about you, they were under the impression that it was a one-night-stand. Your friends thought the same thing. Of course, they were suspicious, but per Aaron’s rules, you never admitted it.

He’d gotten a lot more personal since the first night, crossing his own boundaries about personal lives and knowledge of each other. Not that you minded that in the least.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand. It was a text message. You picked it up and clicked the power button.

A.H. : Happy graduation day. Congratulations.

A small smile fell on your lips. You left it, for the time being, checking your other notifications. Your friends mentioned getting breakfast before rehearsal for the following evening, so you agreed. Rachel was already awake and in the shower, which surprised you. Usually, it was her that slept in. Seconds later, you heard her get out and she walked into the room you shared of your tiny new apartment.

“It’s alive! Did you see Lexi’s text about breakfast?” She was butt-ass naked, drying her hair with a towel, strutting over to her bed and pulling her clothes on. Of course, this was the norm between the two of you; you were convinced she’d somehow seen more of you than Aaron had. You didn’t bat an eyelash at your best friend’s nudity anymore.

“Yeah, I’m gonna shower real quick.” You rolled out of bed and hopped in the shower, letting the water wash the sleep from your eyes. You took in your bare skin, admiring the hickeys on your breasts; the coloring on the bruises were from all stages of healing, along with a bite mark here and there. Like you’d said, a rough week meant rougher...well, you get the idea.

You traced your fingers over the bruises and the faint teeth impressions that marked your body, memories flooding your mind. A smirk graced your lips as you remembered every night associated with each mark. A thought crossed your mind, one that you were grateful for: Aaron was always careful to leave a mark where it could be hidden with clothes. You’d need that today. You went through your shower routine as quickly as possible, finishing when Rachel was drying her hair in the bathroom with you.

You pulled the curtain open, trying to grab your towel before Rachel saw the newest marks on your body, but it was too late. She caught your eye in the mirror, her jaw dropping. She flicked the hairdryer off and turned on her heel to face you.

“Are those new?” Disbelief sounded in her tone. You just rolled your eyes and smiled, shrugging at her. She gasped.

“When did you have time to…?”

“We have a schedule.”

The two of you shared a laugh and she congratulated you for finally getting laid like she said you needed to when you were too stressed about school. It turns out, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Not only did you enjoy the sex, but the man you were having it with helped you to feel relaxed, not to mention he treated you like royalty.

Within half an hour, you and Rachel were out the door and headed to a café to meet the other girls for breakfast. Your sundress blustered around in the wind, the temperature surprisingly comfortable for being under the sun at almost it’s highest point.

You held the door open for Rach, following in behind her. The girls were sitting at a table in the corner of the room and you filled the last two seats. The waitress came up and took your and Rachel’s orders, then left to put them in. Your eyes scanned the café, as they usually do in any slightly unfamiliar place.

Your eyes landed on a table with two seats across the room, one occupied by a man that you thought looked familiar. Your eyebrows knit together as you tried to figure it out to yourself, sipping your coffee and keeping up with the banter at the table in the meantime.

Then, it hit you: it was the older man from the bar, the first night you met Aaron. And he wasn’t alone. Across from him sat the skinny one, a portable chess table in between the two of them. The older man chuckled as the kid beat him for likely the millionth time this morning. Suddenly, he got a phone call. You watched him mouth Aaron’s name, and then something that looked like ‘what’s wrong?’. He told him he’d be there soon, and the two men stood quickly from their seats, rushing towards the door. But before they left, the kid caught your eye. You averted your gaze as quickly as you could, as to not be noticed.

“Where’s the fire, boys?”, Rachel muttered in your ear next to you, laughing. You chuckled in return to avoid suspicion. Little did she know, there was likely a heinous crime that the BAU had just found out about and they’d been called in. That means you were probably not on for this weekend, and it bummed you out. It was the second weekend in a row you couldn’t see Aaron, and you were starting to miss him. The sex was amazing, of course, but you missed his company too. His smell, his face, his lips...

You’d replied to Aaron’s text from earlier on your way here, but a new one just came in. You checked your phone inconspicuously; it helped that you didn’t put his full name as his contact, just in case someone looked over your shoulder, which was likely with Rachel at your side.

A.H.: This weekend’s not looking good again. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

You sighed, knowing this text was soon to come at some point today. You started drafting a response under the table.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s your job, Aaron. Be careful, I love-‘

Oh, fuck. You’d been denying it for so long now and you almost blew your cover. The recurring fear that he had to already have known because he was a profiler crept back into your mind. But you just couldn’t help it, you’d never had a connection like this with anyone. Your heart ached at the thought of not seeing him again.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s your job, Aaron. Be careful, text me when you can.’

Better. You watched the blue bar across the top of your screen zoom from left to right as the message sent. You clicked your phone off, returning your attention to the table. Your friend Lexi seemed to notice your change in emotion and gave you a small, empathetic look from across the table. She was the only one you were honest with about how you really felt about Aaron. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it to anyone else, you were just closest with her and she was your most empathetic friend.

Your phone buzzed in your lap again.

A.H.: You know I will, (Y/N).

You imagined him saying it to you in a reassuring tone and it warmed your heart. Fuck, you missed him. And you loved him. It wasn’t something you could deny anymore. Suddenly you wanted to run around the city and scream at the top of your lungs about how much you loved Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.

Several hours later, you were getting ready to go out the door, putting the final touches on your outfit. Rachel came up beside you in the mirror, tilting your cap and running her fingers through the tassels until they hung straight. She smiled at you, and you smiled back. “We did it, (Y/N/N).”, she said, wrapping an arm around you. You hugged her back, trying not to cry.

You were sitting in the stadium, about to walk across the stage. You really wished Aaron could be here, as silly as it was. You knew he’d never do that, likely easily recognized in public and you two couldn’t be seen together. After the ceremony, you met up with your friends outside and started celebrating as much as you could in the parking lot. You were taking selfies and now, trying to figure out how to take a group picture with no one to take it. You tried propping the phone up on the hood of your car but the angle wasn’t right.

“Want me to take the picture for you, ladies?” A voice rang out from behind you. Your body was frozen in its place. Right away, you knew who it belonged to. You’d heard it almost every weekend, whispering in your ear, moaning your name, telling you to beg…

Hesitantly, you turned around. Your friends were already facing him, Rachel with a look on her face that could only be described as shocked. There Aaron stood, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket, a sly smile painted on his lips.

“Aaron, what’re you doing here?”, you asked him quietly, in complete disbelief. Your friends watched the exchange like it was a hit blockbuster movie.

“I couldn’t miss my girl’s graduation. I told the team we’d wait until tonight to leave.” A warm feeling washed over your body at his words. You tried suppressing a smile, but it weaseled its way out. You smiled so big you thought your cheeks would rip. He returned one, striding over to you. Your heart pounded against your ribs, waiting to see what he’d do next.

He stepped into your personal space, taking your face in both of his huge and calloused hands, planting a kiss on your lips. Your friends gasped and cheered and all things alike, but you weren’t paying attention to them. Your hands rested lightly on Aaron’s dress shirt and you kissed him back with all the love and passion that had been bubbling up inside you over the past two weeks. He pulled away too soon, a hand dropping from your cheek. His thumb stroked your skin, his soft brown eyes gazing down on you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and you just rested your head against his. So many things were being said between the two of you, and yet not a single word left your lips.

“Okay lovebirds, we don’t have all day.”, Rachel remarked playfully. You weren’t looking at her, but you could imagine the smirk on her face right now. You rolled your eyes internally, a smile showing itself on your lips. You pulled back from him, interlacing your fingers with his as you stood by his side. She suddenly held up her phone, telling the two of you to pose.

You were afraid Aaron wouldn’t have wanted to take a picture with you, but he pulled you into him without hesitation, wrapping an arm around you. Your arms wrapped around him and you flashed a toothy smile at the camera. Rachel smiled from behind the phone, genuinely happy to see you feeling the same way.

Aaron took every picture you wanted without complaining once, and your friends went their separate ways, leaving you and Aaron alone. You two were sitting in his SUV outside of his place, making out in his backseat. You were straddling him, fingers running through his black hair.

His lips trailed kisses down your neck, the strap of your dress being pulled ever so gently from your shoulder. You smiled as his lips travelled lower, leaving marks in between your breasts. A small moan slipped from your lips, the grip from his hand tightening on your hip. Suddenly, his phone started ringing, and he groaned, resting his head on your chest. You chuckled.

“You gonna get that, Aaron?”, you asked him slyly. He picked it up, looking at the screen. His lips tightened into a straight line, mouthing an apology before answering.

“Hotch.”, he said matter-of-factly into the speaker. Someone was speaking on the other end, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying or who it was.

“Yeah, I lost track of time, I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and you frowned at him. He sighed, pulling you flush to his chest. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. I’m sorry, (Y/N).” His face donned a sad look.

“Aaron, like I said, you can’t help it. Go kick some ass and then bring yours back to me so I can tell you how hot it is.” A smirk painted itself on your lips and he chuckled deeply.

“You’re so funny, I love you.” It all came out of his mouth in a rush, like you’d said it to each other a million times, but it was quite the opposite. Your eyes grew wide, as did his, realizing what he’d said.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I-'', he stuttered. He stopped talking when you cradled his face, your thumb running along his cheekbone.

“Don’t…”, you whispered, kissing his lips softly. You could feel him relax against you, a sigh escaping him as he kissed you back. You pulled back from him, looking into his eyes and searching his face. “I love you too, Aaron. I have ever since I saw you that first night.”, you confessed. He smiled softly.

“So have I.”

The drive back to your apartment complex was silent, but the air between the two of you was buzzing with a loving and happy energy, and you couldn’t be more grateful for him. He parked in front of the building, looking over at you, his gaze softening in the dim light from the stereo. You laughed nervously, asking him what he was looking at.

“I just love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”, he said with a huge smile on his face. You mirrored his expression, resting your hand on his cheek.

“And I love you, Aaron Hotchner.” You two shared a kiss before you went inside; he sat in his car and made sure you got into the door before peeling off into the night.

You leaned on the door to find the key on your key ring, only to find the door ajar. Your forehead creased as you wracked your brain, trying to remember if you locked the door before you left or if Rachel was supposed to be back already. A bad feeling started festering inside of you.

The thought crossed your mind to call Aaron; you felt it was the most rational thing to do at the moment. Your heartbeat loudly in your chest and your palms started sweating. Something was wrong. You pulled your phone from your purse and almost hit the dial button, but suddenly you hit the floor, a pain surging from the back of your head and into the rest of your body. Your vision was blurry, and you couldn’t hold your eyes open. Your body felt weak, and you felt like you were lifted in the air and tossed over someone’s shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the pain being too much to take. That was when you slipped into unconsciousness.

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Taming of the Bridezilla | Seokjin

→ summary: Picture this: You had been (not-so) cordially invited to the wedding of your least favorite cousin—a woman who had been hellbent on making your childhood a living hell. Now older and wiser, you would think that you would put aside your differences and attend your cousin’s special day without any hard feelings, right? You wouldn’t seek revenge, now would you?

→ genre: fake dating!au, i2l, humor/crack, fluff  → warnings: seokjin and oc paradoxically have big yet small brains, fake proposals, not-so fake mutual pining, thinly veiled baby-making jokes, terrible family members, ass slapping (no worries it’s consensual) → words: 6.3K → a/n: first of all, no this is not a horror fic; i just thought the title was funny. unless you consider the stupidity of the characters to be mildly horrifying, then sure you can count this as a horror fic. this insanely ridiculous fic was commissioned by @breadoffoxy!! anyone who loves chaotic jin is an angel in my book. yes, this comm is a bit longer than expected but what can i say... i love me some jin. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

“You got the ring, right?”

Seokjin pats his left breast pocket and gives you a quick smirk. The bump where the ring should be is fortuitously hidden by his large and garish boutonniere, looking to all the world like he had pinned a whole head of cabbage to his suit. Even then, he still somehow manages to make it work. “Of course I did. This entire plan would be useless if I didn’t have it,” he says.

“What flavor did you get? I quite like the watermelon one,” you muse, smacking your lips in anticipation. “Though it’s hard to remember since I haven’t had a ring pop in years.”

Seokjin laughs loudly, startling a group of aunties gossiping in the corner. They all shoot glares at him, though the effect has lost its novelty as they’ve already been glaring at you from the moment you arrived. You suppose that they have a good reason to, considering that you both arrived at the reception an entire 30 minutes late. You can imagine them cursing you under their breath, saying something like, “You’ve brought dishonor to us all!” or whatever it is that aunties like to say these days.

“I could have gotten you all the flavors available at the convenience store if you wanted, but then we’d be 40 minutes late instead,” Seokjin sighs, pretending to be anguished at the thought.

You snort in the most unladylike manner that you can, grinning wildly when you hear one of the aunties gasp in horrified disbelief. From the way they’re reacting, you might have thought that you just flashed them your Borat-inspired neon green thong.

“I do love a man who can treat me well,” you giggle, earning a soft pinch from him.

“Oh, hush. I know you love it. You nearly burst into tears the other day when I bought you a McFlurry because your broke ass was a dollar short,” Seokjin teases. You squawk indignantly, unable to come up with a retort.

“Whatever! Just because you’re a trust fund baby doesn’t mean you get to bully my impoverished state. Just you fucking wait ‘til I get hit by a wealthy 77 year old’s BMW and then I’ll be made for life,” you huff, your illusion of annoyance quickly shattered by the large, dumb grin on your face. “Hey, would you still love me if I broke all my limbs but had a massive bank account?”

“I’d rather buy you McDonald’s for the rest of your life than see you in pain,” he answers simply, patting you gently on the head. “Though I suppose helping you inject thousands of calories into your bloodstream would also cause you pain later on in life, but hey, at least you’d go down doing what you love.”

“Oh, yes. Keep talking dirty to me. I love it when you talk about the ways you’d kill me by association.” You laugh, casually looping your arms together as you walk past the slowly growing crowd of aunties and entering the reception hall to find your seats. Almost everyone is already in their seats, with a few guests milling about and greeting one another with tight-lipped smiles and hollow laughter. The sight brings goosebumps up your arm, bringing back terrible memories of having to make niceties with these people despite knowing that they despised you and your less affluent family.

Remember, you’re only here as a representative for your parents, you tell yourself. You’d rather bear the brunt of the thinly-veiled insults than to have your parents have to experience this hell. Besides, you have big plans for today, and they would only be brought to an end if your mother ever found out what you wanted to do in the first place.

“As they say… We’re here for a good time, not a long time, which I suppose is our philosophy for tonight as well,” he quips back. He taps you lightly on the hand, wrenching your gaze away from the magnificent chocolate fountain on the dessert table and back to his somewhat less magnificent face. A straight-up lie, but it is the only defense mechanism you have in your arsenal that can keep you from staring at how gorgeous he looks in his suit and tie like a braindead idiot. Denial, after all, hasn’t failed you during the last five years that you’ve been in love with your own best friend.

“What is it?” you ask, curious when he furtively points out one of your cousins near the front of the hall. “That’s Namjoon. Do you know him?”

“Know is a strong word,” Seokjin hums, winking at your cousin when he happens to turn towards the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes light up when he sees him, but his excitement immediately vanishes when he notices who Seokjin has beside him on his right arm. You could see the mental cogs going on inside Namjoon’s head as he stares at the two of you, but you don’t get to see him reach a conclusion before Seokjin is pulling you away, walking in the opposite direction.

“Seokjin? What was that all about?” you ask, though you have to admit you’re kind of afraid to know the answer to your own question. As much as everything about tonight’s scheme had been your idea, you can’t help but think that Seokjin’s intense enthusiasm to help you isn’t merely out of his own desire to help you as a friend, but rather due to his innate calling to cause chaos wherever he goes.

“I have a secret bonus surprise for the bride and groom once we get kicked out from this joint after we do our thing,” he says. “And, dare I say, it’ll be quite a treat for all the guests here.” The smirk on his lips is downright heinous, only exacerbating the frantic racing of your heart. There must be something wrong with you, not with how badly you want to do unspeakable atrocities to him and his evil-looking ass. Or perhaps he was simply put down on Earth to test your slowly fraying sanity.

He snaps you out of your dumbfounded, horny stupor when he continues, “If everything goes according to plan, then we’ll truly end this night with a bang, no pun intended.”

“What was even the pun there?” You raise a brow, slightly disconcerted by the way Seokjin was struggling to keep his laughter (at his own joke) at bay. “You know what? Don’t even answer. I guess I’ll just have to find out later tonight.”

After some pointless meandering while the two of you locate your seats, you are finally able to locate your table, unsurprisingly situated near the farthest corner of the hall where no one would have to see you. You’re honestly more surprised that your newly-wedded cousin had even remembered to give you a seat, though you suppose that it must have been at the behest of your uncle. While your devil of a cousin has always been rude and cruel to you, you have to admit that at least her father knew some manners, though that only begs the question as to what happened to his daughter along the way. Genetics and expensive etiquette classes can only help so much, you suppose.

“Thank you again for doing this with me. You really didn’t need to,” you say when you take a seat, nearly elbowing him in the process. Your chairs are wedged right beside the emergency exit and a grotesque ice sculpture of the bride and groom, forcing the two of you to sit so close that you could feel Seokjin breathe directly into your ear. If you shifted just slightly to the right, you’d basically be sitting on his lap (which is a prospect that intrigues you greatly, but you refrain from voicing it in fear of creeping him out… for now).

“How could I ever resist the offer to ruin your cousin’s wedding? This has been on my bucket list for years,” he winks cheekily at you. “Besides, you’re my dearest friend, Y/N. You could ask me to fight a bear naked, and I’d gladly let it eat my dick in one chomp!”

“I wouldn’t let a bear eat your dick,” you say kindly, patting him gently on the back. “You can’t afford to lose an inch when you only have two to offer.”

Before you could laugh hysterically at Seokjin’s howls of betrayal, your attention is pulled away when the soft violin music stops playing abruptly. From far away, it’s hard to tell what’s going on until you notice a bright light reflecting off of the sea of attendees, the balding head of the reception’s host bobbing up and down as he makes his way to the front of the hall.

“Attention esteemed guests! We will now begin serving dinner shortly. Please remain in your seats as our waiters attend to you.” The host speaks into a crackly microphone just as a few scraggly-looking underpaid teenagers in black dress shirts come out with the first course of the night.

Seokjin cranes his neck, trying to see what the food is. “What the hell is that? Why does it look like green shit in a bowl?” he murmurs, loud enough so that only you can hear. “I didn’t know your cousin was a Dr. Seuss fan. Are we being served green eggs and ham?” Before you can guess, you watch as his nose crinkles in disgust, a vile stench making its way to your area even though none of the waiters were even close to your table. “Oh my goodness, is that stench what we’re supposed to eat?”

“Smells like a barnyard,” you comment, though you aren’t as surprised as he is by the revolting smell. “Well, my cousin always did like making atrocious vegan recipes on her shitty WordPress blog, so I wouldn’t put it past her if she made up the menu for her own wedding.”

“She’s a vegan and a bully? What are the odds,” he says drily, cringing when he watches one of the guests begin to dry heave the moment a spoonful of the green stuff enters their mouth. “Christ. I didn’t know I was signing up for a life or death mission.”

“At this rate, I don’t think we’re getting served until the end of the night anyway,” you say, observing as the understaffed employees tried their best to get to every table while insufferable aunts did their worst to hinder their progress by nagging and complaining. Why were they so adamant about eating the food anyway? Were they itching to get diarrhea on a Saturday night? You do admit that it would probably be better, so then at least you’d have an excuse to leave earlier. “Though I suppose... Do you think eating the mystery goo while it’s cold would be better or worse?”

“It’s okay, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s when we finish up here,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. Never in your life has the mention of greasy fries and chicken nuggies made your heart race faster than it did at that moment, but then again, it could also be your high-blood pressure kicking up. Either way, you can’t ignore the way your face heats up at his offer, now more excited than ever for the reception to be over.

You and Seokjin chat as you wait for everyone around you to finish eating, not even bothered when the waiters forget to bring your food. You’re in the middle of debating the pros and cons of cock and ball torture when large dark shadows loom over both your heads, much like a solar eclipse. A cold shiver runs up your spine when you look up to find the reptilian faces of your aunts, the fumes of their designer perfume creating a cloud so noxious that you could feel your lungs shrivel into prunes.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you after such a long time,” your Aunt Sohee greets, her tone indicating that there was nothing pleasant about seeing you at all. Your aunt, who had gotten so much botox done that she was reminiscent of a plastic balloon ready to pop, has her entourage of fellow aunties behind her, all of whom looked ridiculous in their fake designer dresses. You swear you can see that one of them had forgotten to snip off the Made in China tag before wearing it to the wedding.

“Aunt Sohee, you’re looking… young,” you say after a moment, deciding to settle on lying for now. Even though your main plan for this evening is to create chaos at your cousin’s wedding, your one condition is that you wouldn’t cause a scene with your aunts. While you are hardly in the running for favorite niece, there is still a 1% chance that you could get some inheritance from them once they hit the grave, so you’ll have to grit your teeth and bear the incoming barrage of personal questions coming your way lest you lose out in the long run.

“Why, thank you. I can’t say the same for you,” she huffs, shamelessly grabbing my cheeks and squishing them like stress balls. She peers sourly at your disfigured face, trying to squint judgmentally at you but failing due to her horrendous plastic surgery. “How old are you? Why do you have so many wrinkles?”

You feel your eyebrow twitch involuntarily, unable to respond even if you wanted due to the gorilla-hold she has on your face. You side-eye Seokjin, who is looking back at you with a blank and calm expression. You had already told him beforehand that you wouldn’t be arguing with your aunts, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be an asshole.

Being an asshole, after all, is Seokjin’s favorite pastime.

“Hello, Aunties. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m Y/N’s long-term boyfriend. She’s told me many good things about you,” he says with a polite smile, his hamster cheeks puffing up in that adorably boyish way. The surrounding aunties all begin to coo at his handsome face (unfair!), but they’re quickly silenced by a sharp glare from your Aunt Sohee. She appraises him, giving him a once over with a pursed lip.

“Long-term boyfriend, huh? Are you sure you aren’t paying her or something? Y/N hasn’t had a boyfriend in years. Her cousins have told me that she’s been too busy with other… extracurricular activities to bother sticking around,” your aunt says snidely, her sneer deepening. She lets go of your face, crossing her arms when she spies the expensive watch on his wrist. “Ah, I see that you’re well-off. I just can’t possibly see why else you’d be staying with her if not for other reasons.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising, the veins on your forehead undoubtedly bulging as you try to suppress your rage. Screw your cousin for spreading a rumor that you’re a whore! It’s as if you were the one sucking guys off in the locker rooms when the two of you were in the second year of high school and not her. You haven’t even had your first proper kiss, for heaven’s sake!

Instead of getting angry, Seokjin’s expression hardly changes at all. His serene smile is still plastered on his face, but only you can tell that he’s even remotely bothered by their rude remarks. You can feel the air around him turn frosty, but your oblivious aunties are still too busy tittering amongst themselves, exchanging insults at your expense.

“Oh, are we that obvious?” Seokjin tilts his head, feigning innocence. Your head jerks towards him, your eyes bugging out of their sockets. What the fuck? “You are so right, Auntie Sohee. I’m sure Y/N must have informed you about our predicament. You see, we’ve—”

“Your predicament?” Aunt Sohee scoffs, interrupting Seokjin mid-speech. “I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, bringing her little boy-toy to the holy matrimony of her cousin—”

“—been trying to produce an heir to the Kim Line for months now,” Seokjin sighs heavily, looking off into the distance with glazed, dreamy eyes. You nearly cough out a lung at his sudden proclamation, about to interject and ask him what on earth he was talking about. Your words die on your tongue, however, when he grips your hand tightly underneath the table. He taps three times on the back of your hand: an old sign that you both made back in high school whenever he was busy bullshitting his way out of trouble.

Luckily, none of your aunts notice your blunder, all of them too occupied trying to wrap their heads around what Seokjin had said. Multiple mouths drop open in surprise and disbelief, including your Aunt Sohee. Her penciled eyebrows arch comically high, her smoothened forehead wrinkling infinitesimally (a feat in itself, for you were sure she had long since lost any ability to move the skin on her face.)

“I beg your pardon?” she whispers, staring daggers at Seokjin.

Then beg, you think to yourself. Judging by the way the corners of Seokjin’s lips lift slightly, you have a strong feeling that he was thinking the same thing to himself. Instead, he says, “Yes, Aunt Sohee. You see, I come from a long line of businessmen. Ever heard of Kim Enterprises.”

Her face turns pale. “You mean… the Kim Enterprises? The one that owns—”

“South Korea’s largest chain of department stores? I’m flattered that you’re familiar,” he winks. He leans forward, gesturing for your aunts to come closer, like he’s imparting state secrets to them. “My older brother, who has been married for quite some time, has chosen to remain childless at the behest of his wife. For that reason, my father put me up to the task of producing an heir for the company.”

“An heir?” your aunt repeats, dumbfounded.

Seokjin nods, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s quite unfortunate, but it’s a responsibility I’m willing to take. My family is notorious for planning our lives, even for the next 50 years, so I am forever grateful to have Y/N who is willing to bring me multiple potential heirs to my family.”

“Multiple heirs?” Your aunts shriek in unison, causing a few nearby guests to look over at your table in curiosity. You wave at them awkwardly in apology, hoping to get them to ignore the absolute clusterfuck happening right in front of you.

You feel Seokjin kick you gently in the shin, urging you to say something as well. You clear your throat, channeling all the pent-up Seokjin energy that you had indirectly absorbed over the years of being his friend. “That’s right… My Jinnie has always been so lonely, living in his gigantic mansion with his piles of money. He may have never felt the loving touch of his father, but I’m certain that we’ll be great parents to our children. Why, we’re almost like a pair of rabbits when it comes to—”

Aunt Sohee clears her throat abruptly, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she glares daggers at you. She looks absolutely peeved, and it takes all your mental fortitude to restrain yourself from jumping up in triumph. Take that, wench!

“I have to admit that this is somewhat… unexpected,” your aunt says carefully, pointing a tight smile at Seokjin. He beams back, positively delighted.

“Y/N is quite the catch. I’m grateful to have her in my life,” he says, his tone growing soft by the end. He looks at you then, and you find a mysterious emotion floating in his eyes that you can’t quite name. When you blink and try to get a closer look, his careful façade is back in place.

Eventually, your aunts lose interest in you once they realize they can no longer bully you, not when you had an incredibly rich boyfriend to back you up. “Must be nice being a rich boy, huh?” you snicker, teasing the blushing boy beside you. Thanks to his hair growing longer than usual, the tips of his ears are miraculously hidden away. When you brush his hair back, they are as red as a baboon’s ass.

“Oh, shut up. You know I hate flaunting my dad’s money,” he whines, pouting cutely. He fingers the watch on his wrist, staring at it uncomfortably. “This isn’t even my watch. I had to borrow one from my brother.”

“Well, you did it for me, so I suppose it’s not all bad,” you laugh, pinching his cheek lightly. “Plus, it was funny watching my aunts shut up for once. They’re just mad that you’re richer than the groom.”

“Really? What does he do?”

“He’s an entrepreneur.” You snort, emphasizing the word with air quotations. “Honestly, he just calls himself that while he waits for his self-made business to pop off or whatever. No such luck so far, if what I heard was right.”

“Lucky for you, you’re stuck with my devastatingly handsome face and stinkin’ rich bank account,” he jokes, contorting his face into a funny expression until you’re left snorting at his antics. Little does he know, you still would’ve l***d him even if he wasn’t any of those things, but that’d be too cringey to say. What are you, some sort of romantic lead protagonist?

It takes a little bit over an hour for dessert to start getting served, by which point the bride and groom decide to make their rounds to greet the guests. “Don’t you think this is the perfect time to put our plan into motion? The dance floor is open and we should be able to make it to the center without anyone noticing,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you say, but just as you’re about to get up from your seat, a flurry of white blocks your path in an instant. You startle slightly, falling back to your chair and hitting Seokjin in the chest with a soft grunt. “Shit, sorry about that Seokjin—”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my dear cousin,” a voice cuts you off, the disdain in their voice dripping like acid down your ear canals. Your blood freezes instinctively, years of past trauma crashing down on you as your childhood bully stands just inches away from you, her blood-red lips stretched into a broad smirk.

“Kairi,” you greet.

“Y/N,” she responds.

“Seokjin!” Seokjin adds helpfully.

Your cousin turns to him slowly. “Quite right,” she hisses, eyebrows pinched together in thinly-veiled annoyance. “I’ve heard through some whispers that my baby cousin finally managed to snag a rich kid for a boyfriend and I just couldn’t help but let my curiosity drag me over here.” She looks you up and down, snorting at what she sees. “You would think that having a chaebol as a boyfriend would mean you could at least afford a proper dress.”

You glance down at your dress: a hand-me-down from your mother because you couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one, not when you’d rather choke on Satan’s hot fiery balls for all eternity than spend any amount of money just to attend your cousin’s wedding. Despite this, you can’t help your cheeks from heating in embarrassment, an automatic response after years of bullying and torment from that spoiled bitch.

When you don’t reply, Kairi’s smirk widens. “Oh? Cat got your tongue? Sugar daddy couldn’t even be bothered to buy you a dress? While you’re at it, maybe you should ask for a new car too. I’m surprised you even made it here alive in that old metal deathtrap of yours. You’re lucky you were just late to the reception instead of dead on the street.”

You can sense Seokjin staring at you from your right. Your fists are clenched tightly on your skirt, your nails nearly tearing the fabric in your searing rage. Slowly, carefully, Seokjin slips his hands underneath yours—he pries your death grip open until he can lace his fingers in between yours. At once, your anger melts at his tender gesture, your focus pulled away from your cousin and back to him. He thumbs the back of your hand, as if assuring you that he’d handle this himself.

He smiles at Kairi, not a single ounce of kindness in his eyes. “Yes, indeed. It is my mistake entirely for not ordering a dress much sooner. Y/N is so incredibly humble; she’d rather wear a vintage outfit than wear one of those paper-thin dresses from YesStyle that you and your bridesmaids seem to favor,” he sighs, pretending to be pained.

“Paper-thin? YESSTYLE?” Kairi screeches, her voice breaking the sound barrier. You watch in fascination as her skin turns an unflattering ruddy shade.

Unperturbed by her murderous aura, Seokjin prattles on. “Quite right,” he mocks her with her own words, smirking ever so slightly. “Though, I must apologize for being late to the reception. That was my fault as well. My father had a general meeting this morning for all the employees at the company, as he had wanted to announce that I would be the Vice President starting next Monday. We tried to leave sooner, but everyone had been too busy congratulating us,” he apologizes, though not apologetic in the slightest.

Your cousin could cosplay as a walking crack pipe with how much steam was puffing out of her ears. She’s livid, so much so that her fury was preventing her from formulating any sort of comeback. “You—how dare you—I swear on my—” she stutters incomprehensibly, her vulture-like nails tearing her dainty paper-thin skirt into shreds.

Just as she looks about ready to blow, her father comes around to your table. He places a hand delicately on his daughter’s shoulder, immediately understanding the situation when he sees you. “Kairi, I think it’s time for you to greet the rest of the guests. Uncle Iverson said he has a gift for you that simply cannot wait,” he says, doing his best to appease you. He gives you a genuinely regretful look; you shake your head, waving off his concern.

“It was nice seeing you, Kairi. I hope you and your husband will have a wonderful year together,” you say. You gasp exaggeratedly, holding a hand to your heart. “Oh, sorry. I meant to say I hope you have wonderful years together. Pardon my mistake.”

Before the scant amount of brain cells in your cousin’s brain could process your words, her father pulls her away, dragging her to the next table over. Once they’re out of earshot, you heave a sigh of relief. Beside you, Seokjin lets out a laugh that he had been undoubtedly holding in the past few minutes, sounding like a fish gasping for air with how much he is shaking with mirth.

“Fuck, that was hilarious. Did you see how angry she got? Beautiful,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. “Love that for us!”

“Damn. I knew you were good at bullshitting, but even your acting skills almost convinced me,” you whistle lowly, impressed. “You sure you’re not a con-artist in disguise?”

“All good businessmen are con-artists, my young padawan,” he snickers, winking at you. He shrugs. “You get used to dealing with assholes like her when you attend enough rich people parties. Besides, all good lies are rooted in the truth, after all. That’s what my father taught me when I was seven.”

“You must have been a terrible child, then.” You laugh, before realizing what he had just said. “Wait. Rooted in the truth? What does that mean?”

“Oh. Well,” he clears his throat, giggling nervously. He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “I am the vice president of dad’s company now. I just lied about the meeting being this morning. He announced it a day ago or something. Not that it’s a big deal or anything…”

You gawk at him, speechless. Not for the first time in your life, you are once again stunned by the absurdity of the man before you. How did men like him exist outside of cheesy k-dramas? He’s handsome, rich, funny, AND well-mannered? It’s almost like some love-crazed author had penned him into existence for their entertainment.

Seokjin breaks you from your reverie, tapping you thrice on your shoulder. “Shall we go? The dance floor is still empty. It’s now or never.”

You nod excitedly, standing up to head towards the center of the hall. This time, there is no one stopping you as the two of you make your way towards your destination. The lights near the dancefloor are still dimly lit, as most of the lighting is currently focused on the guests as the bride and groom make their rounds to greet everyone. Even if Seokjin got onto his knees right now, only a few people nearby would notice, so you’d have to do something to catch people’s attention.

“This is going to be moderately to highly embarrassing for a few moments, but I think that’s the atmosphere we’re going for, isn’t it?” Seokjin whispers, his mouth embarrassingly close to yours as he holds you gently by the waist. There isn’t a need for him to stand so close to you, but you have to admit his presence is mostly calming—minus the fact that he’s been your crush for five years and he’s going to be fulfilling one of your deepest fantasies in front of your entire extended family. No biggie.

“I suppose so. What are you gonna do to get their attention?” you ask, palms beginning to sweat. Despite this, Seokjin still takes your hands into his own, a small smile on his lips.

“Just watch,” he whispers, before slowly getting down on one knee.

Ba-dump. Here we fucking go.

“My dearest Y/N… The apple of my eye, the straw to my berry, the con to my dom,” Seokjin says, projecting his voice so that it can be heard even above the music. One of the violin players is even startled long enough to stop playing, further causing more heads to turn in their direction. You hear a gasp coming from your left, but you force yourself not to look. Instead, you stare right back into Seokjin’s sweet brown eyes, your heart beating a mile a minute.

This isn’t real… This is just a prank, bro. Get over yourself, you hiss internally, but your heart refuses to listen.

“You’ve been in my life for almost half a decade, and not a day goes by wherein I don’t wonder what it would be like to live the rest of my days with you. In many ways, I wouldn’t be the person I am if it hadn’t been for your presence in my life,” he says. If you look deeper into his eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that they looked wetter than they had just a moment ago.

“Y/N, you are the person I’ve loved for years now. I used to think you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, so I was always scared to pop the question. I had many opportunities to ask, but I suppose tonight just felt like the right moment. I was afraid that if I didn’t do it now, I might never get the chance to ask again, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you slip away out of cowardice.”

For some reason, his words seem almost too real, like he was speaking the truth. You have never doubted his acting skills, but would you be willing to wonder if there was even a small possibility that there was some truth to his tale? You swallow thickly, the need to ask just dangling on the tip of your tongue.

He rifles through his jacket pocket, procuring a small velvet box. He thumbs it almost reverently, his hands shaking slightly, but you can blame that on the nerves from hundreds of people watching you. He takes a deep breath, opening the box with a soft click. “My dearest Y/N… Would you give me the honor of spending the rest of my days with you?”

You feel your breath get knocked out of you in an instant, the genuine adoration in his eyes too much for you to handle. You stammer slightly, too busy staring at him to properly register the loud claps, screams, and hollers all around you. “I… Seokjin… This is…”

“MAKE THEM STOP! SOMEONE KICK THEM OUT RIGHT NOW!” You dimly hear your cousin screaming obscenities somewhere, but you are still too caught up in the moment to care. The world only consists of you and Seokjin—nothing else matters right now.

When you look down at the box in his hands, fully expecting to see a comically large ring pop nestled in its cushions, but instead you find—

You gasp, nearly doubling over in surprise. “Oh my god, Seokjin. Is that a real fucking diamond ring?!”

He shrugs, smiling wryly. “Only the best rocks for the girl who rocks my socks off every night,” he jokes, but his nervousness is palpable. He’s sweating, a drop trailing down the side of his face despite the strong air conditioning.

Oh shit. It hits you right then that his proposal is real. The damned idiot is fucking proposing to you in front of your most hated family members, and he’s proposing to you for real.

“Kim Seokjin, please fucking explain yourself—”

But before he can have the chance to open his mouth, you feel rough hands grab you by the shoulders, pulling you away from him. “I’m sorry I have to do this, ma’am. Bride’s orders,” one of the waiters says, awkwardly escorting you to the exit. When you turn back, you see another waiter pulling Seokjin away as well, the box with the ring still clutched tightly in his hand.

The two waiters deposit you outside the hall, bowing stiffly before heading back into the room. You’re still breathing heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Seokjin isn’t any better, bent over with his hands on his knees. From your vantage point, you can see how red his entire neck is, his blush reaching even past the collar of his shirt.

“Seokjin…” you trail off, unable to say another word. You’re completely flabbergasted, elated, annoyed, and mostly just mind-fucked because when on earth did Kim Seokjin ever have a crush on you?!

“I’m sorry. That must have been quite a shock,” he coughs out a laugh. He rubs his face, embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. “I just… It was sort of a last-minute decision I made. I’ve been into you for years now, and I know I’m kinda putting you on the spot by proposing like that, but I knew if I didn’t do anything soon, you might just slip away before I can say anything.”

“Wait. So are you really… proposing to me?” You squeak out the last bit, your face mirroring his reddened state.

“No!” He shouts suddenly, before covering his mouth with his palm. “S-sorry, what I mean to say is, it wasn’t really a marriage proposal. It was more like… just a general proposal? I do want to live with you forever, but I know that thought must be daunting and—oh god, I don’t even know if you like me like that, so this must be incredibly weird and out of line. Please excuse me while I shove a cactus up my ass—”

“Seokjin,” you interrupt, silencing his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut. “Are you… asking me out?”

He nods his head. “Yeah…”

“And what you said is true? You actually like me?”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you,” he says, before getting shy again. He looks down at the ring box. “Fuck. This isn’t a real engagement ring, by the way. It’s more like a promise ring, so you don’t have to feel bad for rejecting me.”

“Oh my god, I’m in love with an idiot,” you groan, pulling him into a hug. You nestle into his chest, giggling hysterically into his shirt. “I fucking hate you.”

“Wait, I’m getting mixed signals over here,” Seokjin says, gasping when he feels how tightly you embrace him. He doesn’t complain, however. He returns the gesture in kind, nuzzling deep into your neck. “So, does that mean the feeling is mutual?”

“Yes, you idiot. Now give me my ring.”

“My pleasure, princess.” He laughs, drawing away slightly so that he can slip the ring on your finger. The diamond shines brightly under the fluorescent lights, but nothing brings you more joy than having the boy you love in your arms.

As the two of you are sharing a sweet moment, it takes a second for you to realize that the commotion from inside the venue still hasn’t stopped. When you crane your heads, you spot one of the doors had been left ajar, allowing you to slip your heads through the crack just in time to see Seokjin’s beautiful bare ass being projected onto a large screen.

The musical notes of Rick Astley’s most popular song play loudly on the speakers, drowning out the sounds of the bride screaming bloody murder as the IT people tried their best to sort out the mess. The Seokjin on the screen slaps his ass in time with the tune, his glorious moon-shaped globes shaking mesmerizingly for all to see.

When you look to Seokjin for an explanation, he merely shrugs his shoulders. “They really should do background checks on the people they hire for these things. Taking that one video editing course in university really does pay off, huh?”

“Sure does,” you grin, linking your arms together. “Now let’s get some fucking McDonalds.”

And so, you lived happily ever after—the end.

[plus-size-reader]

Breaking Protocol

Spencer Reid x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2151 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Spencer kept in touch with the daughter of a serial killer they took down. They think there's a copycat which brings them to her door once again

——————————————————————————————————

As a general rule, the BAU team didn’t keep in very much contact with the people they saved. The victims' families, or sometimes the victims themselves were kept at arm's length, due to protocol. 

However, protocol never said anything about the Unsub’s families. 

Your father, a gruesome and heinous serial killer, who murdered your mother along with seventeen other women had brought the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit to your door. 

It was your sparkling wit and kind eyes that kept one Dr.Spencer Reid there for far beyond when the case had ended. 

There was something special about you, something that Spencer recognized almost immediately, but the more he spoke to you, the more pain he found behind those kind eyes that drew him in. 

You were in constant pain, a constant pain that you couldn’t avoid. Everytime you closed your eyes, you saw him there, the way they found him when you called the police. He was covered in blood, holding a knife, poised over her body. 

You didn’t even know her. You had never seen her before in your life, but there she was, lying dead on the kitchen floor. 

And yet, you remained as gentle as anyone could have been. It confused Spencer, and naturally he wanted to know what it was that made you that way. 

So he kept coming to visit you, even months after your father’s initial arrest. He just wanted to make sure you were okay, for whatever reason. 

It didn’t make any sense and he was painfully aware of that but it wasn’t something he had any control over. He cared about you and that was never going to change. 

...For whatever reason. 

At this point, you two didn’t speak much with Spencer only making monthly visits when he was in the area and calling at least once a week to check up on you. 

Until today. 

You had heard a few things here and there on the news, but you kept away from all that nasty stuff to avoid the nightmares. It was hard for someone with your past to ever really move on.

That had become clear to you but the point wasn’t that you were moving on, it was that you were doing your best. 

It was all you could do.

Though, all thoughts came falling away as soon as you heard that knock on your door. It was familiar and you couldn’t have mistaken it but that didn’t confuse you any less.

Spencer wasn’t supposed to be in the area for another week or so, but there was no one else who knocked that way. It was a signature of Reid’s so that you knew it was him. 

He liked to have a special thing between just the two of you. 

Not that it helped you in any way right now. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here for another week-” you started, swinging the door open without hesitation, only stopping when you realized Spencer wasn’t alone. 

In fact, he couldn’t have been farther from it. There were three men standing on your doorstep, each holding badges up to your screen with muted intentions. You had no idea what this was about, but it didn’t really matter. 

Knowing Spencer as well as you did, you knew it was only a matter of time before he filled you in with more detail than anyone could have ever needed. 

“Sorry, I should have called first” he shrugged, knowing that a heads up would have been nice but this whole thing had to be by the books and nothing was going to change that. 

Not even how much he cared about you. 

“Not a problem at all, what can I do for you?” you wondered, opening the door to them, letting them slip into your house without hesitation. Whatever it was they needed to talk about, you weren’t worried. 

Spencer had made it very clear that if there was any development in your father’s case or something changed, he was going to make sure you knew before anyone else. 

Even if it meant breaking protocol, which he did frequently where you were concerned. 

This was going to be a hard conversation to have, and Reid knew that, but luckily he knew you well enough to know that you could handle it. You were adults, and you weren’t living under some illusion over who your father was. 

You knew that he was a monster, and you also knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life rotting in prison. Still, having to relive the things he’d done was going to be had. 

After all, you were sure that you’d put that all behind you after he was locked up. 

“Y/N, we have to talk about your father” Spencer started, counting on Alvez to let him take the lead on this whole thing. They weren’t sure what exactly it was going on between the two of you, but they could tell you had a bond. 

It might have been odd, but if it could help them find whoever was committing these murderers, no one was about to stop him. 

“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, terrified that perhaps he’d gotten out or something had happened. It horrified you, but you knew well enough to keep calm. 

Whatever it was that was going on, you just had to trust that Spencer was going to take care of you. Besides, there was no way your dad had managed to get out of there. 

He had been locked in max security a few years ago and wasn’t ever getting out. That was what Spencer had assured you and that was what you needed to be the case. 

You had to make this work.

“Not exactly. There have been a series of murders following your father’s original schematic. All signs point to a-” 

“A copycat?” you filled in, fully aware that must have been what he was alluding to. It had always been a fear of yours, something you had talked to Spencer about a few times but you never thought it could actually happen. 

After all, what kind of person could actually idolize the monster you were forced to call family? You had always assumed that no one would be that sick, but clearly you were wrong. 

Someone had an interest in his brutality.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you could help me? No one knew him better than you, after all. If anyone could get inside his head, it would be you” Spencer informed, giving you that look he always did when you talked about the past. 

He didn’t like it. 

It hurt him to have to see you relive all those horrible memories, but it was just something you had to do. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t absolutely need your help, and you knew that. 

You knew that he needed you, and you weren’t about to turn your back on him. 

So, you nodded.

Whatever it was that Spencer needed you to do, you would be able to figure it out with him by your side. 

~ “Do you want to talk about it? Before I bring you into the bureau, I mean?” he asked, sitting down beside you at your dining room table, where you were staring out your kitchen window. 

You had been like that since the rest of the team left, content with the fact that Spencer was going to bring you to the BAU after having a brief conversation with you.

Though, it had become clear by that point that the conversation was going to be anything but brief. 

“Talk about what Spence? My dad and all those girls he murdered? The fact that somebody is taking a page out of his handbook? Or we could talk about the simple fact that even locked up, he’s ruining my life” 

Your words were a ramble at best but that didn’t make it any harder for Spencer to piece together what you were getting at. This was hard on you and no one knew that better than him.

You were completely different when your dad was around, even from behind bulletproof glass, and it was only natural that you tried to avoid all mention of him.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to let anything happen to you” he assured, reaching out to take your hand in his own, a strange gesture coming from him. Even with you, Spencer had never been too keen on that. 

Perhaps it would have been comforting, had you been worried about you. Though, you couldn’t have been worried about yourself at a time like this. You were really just having a hard time believing this. 

How was it possible that someone was going to do this? Of all the things your dad was, a role model wouldn’t even make the list. 

“I’m not worried about that Spencer, I’m worried about everybody else” you sighed, trying to rationalize why in the world they would even need you for all of this. 

Spencer knew your father’s M.O and case like the back of his hand, and probably better, after everything you had been through together and any information you had, Spencer had too. 

It was all locked up in his beautiful brain, and besides, it could be so dangerous for you two to be in the BAU together. After all, you didn’t know what kind of trouble Spencer could get into for keeping contact with you all this time. 

It may have been against some kind of rule or protocol for all you knew. 

“Tell me the truth Spencer, why do you want me to be part of this so bad?” you wondered, knowing that if it was just for information, they didn’t really need you. 

You just had a feeling that there had to be something more going on, and as well as you knew him, you knew better than to believe that Spencer could avoid the truth with you for that long. 

Not after all the time you two had spent together. 

“I think you may have something new to add-” he started, but you stopped him before he could get further into whatever he was going to say. You didn’t have to have to be a genius to know that he had some kind of ulterior motive. 

You just had to figure out what it was. 

“We both know you don’t need me for that Spencer. What is this really about?” you hummed, turning your attention away from the window completely. Whatever this was, there had to be some reason he was keeping it from you. 

After all, he had never kept anything from you before. Under the circumstances of which you two met, nothing else really seemed that important. 

This was the first time you had ever known Spencer to hesitate where the truth was concerned.  

...But eventually the truth came. 

“Fine. I want to keep you safe” 

It was nothing more than a whisper but you caught it just fine due to the close proximity between the two of you. Now, you were much less concerned with the copycat or anything else. 

Instead, you were focused on the emotion on Spencer’s face and the obvious distress there. 

Something was wrong, “If a copycat is deeply obsessed with your father, there is a good chance that they will want you or at least, victimize you” he warned, running his hands through his hair gingerly. 

He could hardly breathe just thinking about what could happen to you. Your father never went after you because you were off limits for him but he killed his victims that bore a strong resemblance to you. 

If your father killed surrogates in your place, there was no reason to think someone idolizing him wouldn’t go after you. They would lack the personal connection that kept your dad from hurting you. 

…And Spencer wasn’t about to let that happen. 

It made sense, but you also didn’t understand why he cared so much. Though, before you could tell him that you thought it was silly, you realized that the hold Spencer had on your hand had only tightened when talking about it. 

He was scared. 

Realizing that stopped all joking and teasing in their tracks, as you thought about it. Spencer genuinely believed that you were in danger and had interwoven you into the investigation to keep you under close watch. 

“Okay Spence. Let me pack a bag” you decided, before stepping away to grab a change of clothes and some of your essentials. If this was so important to him, it wouldn’t kill you to make him feel better. 

After all, it wasn’t every day that you saw Spencer that shook up. You just had to hope that staying with him for a few days would be enough to convince him that you weren’t in any danger. 

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Nothing Alike: II

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

A/N: Is that a backstory and angst I smell??

Masterlist

Geralt was enjoying the spring afternoon when she started yelling at him…or at least she tried.

“Ah you’re awake,” he replied to her gagged screams. She was squirming behind him, probably trying to get out of the well placed knots he had tied to ensure she wouldn’t get away when she did finally wake up. He noticed Roach getting restless, annoyed both with the extra passenger and her lack of manners, so Geralt gave her a little shove, sending her toppling to the ground. She hit the ground with a thud and flipped over to glare at him.

If she hadn’t been mad before, she definitely was now. In the fall her gag had come lose and now he was being subject to ever single word she had to say. So much for enjoying the afternoon.

“I should fucking kill you, you fucking coward. Where do you get off kidnapping me?” she howled, struggling against the binds. When she failed, dangerous eyes flashed at him and she snarled. “Let me go now, and I promise I won’t kill you.”

“You’re not really in the position for bargaining.”

“Yet.”

“Say I let you go, what then?”

“I’ll join a convent and repent and pray to God every day,” she began before bursting into laughter and laying in the grass. “I thought I could say it, but even your horse knew that was horse shit, I’m going to go back to where I came from and make some money.”

“Then I can’t let you go.”

“What’s it to you anyways?”

“People already don’t trust Witchers, it’s not going to get any better if word gets around that one is robbing a town of its money.”

“I won it fair and square, no robbery required.”

“Of course, fair and square, with nothing but a genetic mutation on your side.” She sent him another glare, trying to subtly slide the ropes from her legs. “If you try running, I’ll catch you.”

“Oh please, last time you got lucky.”

“No, you underestimated me.”

“Well when you look like that I’m not exactly wowed,” she sneered.

“You talk big game for being the one tied.”

“You think this is the first time I’ve been tied up, c’mon being the only female Witcher who isn’t dying through the trials is sure to make me some enemies. Don’t worry, I took care of them.”

“The only female Witcher?”

“Oh, you haven’t been keeping up with your old school I see. We’re kind of a new idea, most of us die off, actually all of us died off, except me, I lived out of spite. And now I’m being harassed by another Witcher who thinks he’s got some holy purpose, well it turns out you don’t. Go, do whatever you want, stop killing monsters and make a good life for yourself, but before you do all that untie me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she growled, struggling with the knots a little more frantically now.

“They hired me to get rid of you, if I let you go you’ll just go back, and then they’ve wrongfully paid me, plus they think you’re dead.”

“They think I’m what?” she yelled.

“Dead, I told them you were.”

“Then why aren’t I?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Anything is better than being babysat by some holier-than-thou, thousand-year-old, Witcher who wouldn’t know how to have fun if it sprouted out of his big toe.” Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, considering if he should have killed her in that alley. “Why do you want me around anyway?” His anger fizzled away for a moment at that question. It sounded just as biting as the rest, but something else had slithered into her tone, a sliver of self-deprecation perhaps? And it made him think, why did he take her, why when she was nothing but agony in his side did he bother bringing her with him.

“Because I want to know you,” he said and she snorted. She was laughing at him without a care in the world.

“Why on earth would you want to know me.”

“Consider it a study, you’re the first witcher I’ve met who didn’t go right to work, who didn’t take the weight of the world upon yourself and work yourself into nothing but blood and rust mixing with the dirt.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Maybe not to you, but all I heard was, a witcher who knows how to enjoy life.” He snarled and she laughed. “If you’re going to study me you should probably untie me.”

“How about you answer some of my questions and then I untie you.” She considered it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons before she brightened with a grin.

“I’m an open book.” He climbed off his horse and ungracefully pulled her over to a boulder, perching her on top of it. He tied Roach to a tree and took a seat on his own stump.

“How long have you been out of the academy?”

“A couple weeks.”

“How old are you?”

“Geralt, you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age,” she teased, ignoring the annoyed look he sent her. “22, in real time.”

“Young to be a Witcher.”

“Like I said, I’m special,” she sneered.

“What do you mean by special.”

“Fuck if I know, that’s just what they told me.”

“Do you have a guess.”

“A few.”

“Are you going to share?”

“Are you going to make me?”

“No.”

“Then I think I would like to keep it to myself.” He nodded sharply before continuing.

“How long were you in that town.”

“The moment they let me go.”

“Did you try to leave before then.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you go?”

“How do you know I succeeded?”

“The scars above your collar.”  Subconsciously, she raised her shoulders, shifting her collar to cover the pink scars.

“They’re not from escaping, they did other things for escaping, but I tried to go home. I thought I could go back to living with my mother after she sold me out. Guess I was wrong, she sold me out again and got another purse of gold for her trouble. Then they locked me in a box, told me what being caged really felt like.”

“What are the scars from?”

“Various other incidents.”

“So, you were a regular problem then?”

“Of course.”

“Anything in particular stand out?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean any crimes that were really heinous.”

“I killed an instructor once, it was an accident but it still happened.” Geralt didn’t continue for a moment, reading the look of regret on her face. She smiled at him, almost exhausted, praying that he wouldn’t ask her to discuss it further.

“What about the boys at school, did they torment you?”

“All the time, I got used to it.”

“How bad did it get?”

“One time they cornered me late at night, held a knife to my throat and dragged me to the window. They wanted me to admit I was a whore, that I was sleeping with our instructors. I wouldn’t say it though, they threatened me for what seemed like hours, pushing me just a little too far before yanking me back inside, letting my feet slip against the windowsill. They wanted me to beg and scream for help.”

“Did you say it?”

“No.”

“And what happened?”

“They dropped me. I thought I was as good as dead, but I refused to scream, even on the way down. I hit a snow drift and walked away unscathed. They thought I would leave that night so I am pleased to say they were shocked to see me walk in the next day ready to fight.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“If I had told someone they would know exactly who shoved him down the stairs two nights later. His nose is still busted, well was.”

“Was?”

“He was one of the lucky fellows who tried to get rid of me before you came along. He’s the only one it was a pleasure to kill.”

“How many did you kill?”

“Five.” Geralt clenched his fists, she had killed five witchers, more than any monster or mage could claim and he was allowing her to live. Why was he letting her live? “Any other questions?”

“How did you feel when you killed them?”

“Terrible. I buried them, gave each of them a proper burial, except my tormentor of course. I tried to get them to leave me alone, to leave but they just wouldn’t go away. I begged them yknow, pleaded while they tried to kill me. I just wanted to be free but they saw nothing but my blood on their silver bladed sword. Until you came along of course.” He stayed silent, watching her shifting in her bindings.

“Why don’t you want to be a witcher?”

“It was an accident I became one, a curse from God. I should have died, they were willing to let me die. I’m not going to come close to death because of them ever again, not the school, the King, or God himself can make me.”

“What about me.” She glanced at him and grinned but said nothing. He reached over and sliced her bindings with the knife she had stabbed him with the day prior. “Don’t run off, we’re heading towards the moors tomorrow.”

 She was gone the next morning.

Taglist: @stuckupstucky​ @aurora-sweet​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​ @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire​

[lemon--squeezy]

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 | 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Summary: 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 found love during his teen years and ended up married to his high school sweetheart. However, he hadn't been prepared for the effects caused on him by a younger Agent and coworker.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Original Female Character

Warnings: Mentions of/implied attemped rape, sexual scenes, adult language, angst, boss/employee relationship, cheating, age difference and  canon-typical violence.

A/N: Before we start I just wanted to warn you that English is not my first language so you might see some grammar and spelling errors, if you spot any just let me know please. I hope you can bear with me! This story in also available on Wattpad 

“You made a really deep cut and baby, now we’ve got bad blood…” — Taylor Swift

Rays of a morning sun shine through the many windows, bringing a needy warmth to the cold bullpen of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. As soon as one enters the room, the bitter but invitingly warm scent of black coffee would invade their nostrils; a much needed drink to endure the consuming aspects of working for the FBI. Hushed footsteps, discussions of rapports, chairs moving around and whispers of good mornings are the prominent sounds filling the environment. 

At the center of the room, three distinct agents are discussing among themselves about gossips of the office. A strong, shaved headed man, with dark skin and a smirk plastered on his face. By his side, half sitting on his desk is a woman with fluffy bright blonde hair, thick black glasses supported by her delicate nose and wearing colorful clothes, making her stick out in an ocean of grey suits and blazers. Standing in front of them is a raven-headed woman, with pale skin and dressing a dark outfit like no one else could do. 

While grabbing his mug and sipping his morning coffee, the man looks at his wristwatch, slightly shaking his head in a mocking disapproval and declares, “It’s officially five minutes since our work time started and Agent Davis hasn’t arrived,” he flashes a smirk to the black headed female who had being part of the team for barely a month and continues, “I hope you’re ready to witness your first breakfast time quarrel between the bossman and Amy.” 

Emily, the sophisticated gothic woman, stares confusedly at her teammate and says, “Okay, I’m gonna take the bait. What are you talking about, Morgan?” 

He flashes a mischievous smile, “Do you want to explain it to the newbie, baby girl?” Morgan asks the blonde and eager female to tell the new girl about the most volatile - and funny to watch - dynamic of the team. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already noted that my lovely girl Amelia Davis and our stiff yet good-looking Superior don’t tolerate each other,” Penelope happily blabbers. “Since today is Monday and Amy loooves partying hard on the weekends, she’s already late. Something that displeases the bossman who is constantly waiting to scold Amy because of her little mistakes.” 

“That is intriguing. Are you sure it isn’t all about sexual tension? That would explain their behavior.” Agent Emily Prentiss questions inducing a gasp from Penelope and a laugh from Derek. 

“We’ve all considered it at some point,” the man affirms. “Just don’t say that to Davis or she will lecture you about how terrible it is that two people of the opposite sex aren’t allowed to sincerely and deeply hate one another,” he concludes and looks in the direction of his Superior individual office through the open blinds. “Hotch seems to be especially annoyed today so I bet he won’t even wait for Davis to reach her table before he calls her attention.” Morgan deduces and the elevator cheeps in sync announcing new arrivals, making the three agents stare in its direction. They see a couple of interns hurrying to the coffee marker and the next person to come out is the disheveled figure of Agent Davis. Her crystal blue eyes are hidden by black sunglasses, the woman’s usually perfect long brunette hair is currently disheveled, her button up white shirt is supporting some wrinkles while her dark grey blazer is in her left hand along with her bag. She connects the fingers of her right hand with her temple massaging it in a foolish attempt to ease the headache obviously caused by a hangover. 

Amelia tries to walk discreetly in the direction of her desk, hoping she would pass unnoticed by her boss, but she isn’t successful. Seeing her state, Derek whistles and loudly states, “I think someone had a wild night,” he laughs with Prentiss and Penelope. His booming voice affects the balance of Davis, making her stumble over her own feet and before she gets a hold of her chair and tells the man to be quiet, the harsh sound of a door opening echoes through the entire space of the bullpen. 

“Agent Davis. My office. Now,” the chief unit’s demand rings like thunder, giving chills to the ones around.  

“Fuck,” Amy murmurs while taking off her sunglasses  and dropping her belongings on her desk. 

The brunette drags her legs, taking her time along the short way to her boss’s office. 

Amelia feels like she’s in high school and the principal is calling to lecture her, but that’s something she never experienced during her school years since her teachers adored her effort to have the best grades and eagerness to learn. Besides, she could always blast a polite amiable smile to make people bend at her will. It came easily to Amy, being friendly and kind towards others, virtues that paid off and made everyone like her. Well, everyone but him. 

The door to the room is already opened and to Amy, it resembles the entrance of a

scary and dark cave. After she’s inside, she makes sure to close it to shield herself from the curious ears of her coworkers. She goes straight to one of the chairs across from the stoic man, a journey she’s so used to, considering that Hotchner’s constantly expressing his discontent with her whether it was about being a few minutes late, or about a typo in a rapport, or even choosing to use a grey folder instead of the yellow ones. Everything would lead to criticism and by now she would just take it with humor. She mumbles a good morning but Aaron simply ignores it.

“Tell me, Agent, what’s your excuse for today? Two weeks ago there was something wrong with your car, four weeks ago it was a problem with shower. I can’t wait to hear about another one of your misfortunes,” there’s venom watering each word, his eyes colder than a winter day and his entire posture screams irritation.  

Amy thinks how he’s ever so ridge when she’s around. Every time she enters the same room as him, the jet black haired man would instantly go ridge like her mere presence was a heinous crime. She’s used to it and more than happy to demonstrate that she is also offended by his existence.  

“Would you believe me if I told you that my nanny died?” Davis playfully replies and grins, which boils Aaron’s anger further. 

“Do you think this is some sort of joke?” he snaps, standing from his chair and positioning his hands on the desk that separated them. “I can’t have people in this unit that don’t take their job seriously and I don’t have time to endure irresponsibility and lack of respect.” 

I bet you would have a lot of free time if you just left me the fuck alone, dude - Amelia thinks while maintaining eye contact with the man. 

“One more day of tardiness and you will have to suffer consequences. Is that clear enough for you, agent?” he fumes. 

She bites her lips and swallows a bitter response. Not afraid of the outcome, just too tired to deal with her boss’s intensity so early in the day. “Yes, boss.”

“You can leave now,” he grunts and sits back in his chair. Starting to reach for one of the files on his desk; at the same time, Amelia makes a quick way out of the room. Once she gets to her chair, she releases a loud sigh, longing for the day to be over already. 

“That seemed intense.” Emily comments. She and Morgan are in their respectives chairs and Penelope has made her way to her own office - after the end of the show, of course.  

“You have no idea,” Amy answers while starting her work. 

 “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between the two of you?” Prentiss carefully asks, genuinely curious.

“He’s the one who decided to hate me since my first day, I’m just returning the sentiment,” Davis explains, unbothered by the question, being a curious person herself she knows how it is once interest sparks. That’s when Dr. Reid and Agent Jareau arrive, talking to themselves. Spencer is carrying a notebook with a sketch of a boy’s face in it, moving around the room frantically and picking a telephone. 

“What’s wrong?” Amelia worriedly questions. 

“Need to get that to everyone as soon as possible,” Reid hurriedly explains while making a call. “Detective Barnes, this is Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico,” he clarifies to the person on the other side of the phone and continues rapidly, “Have you had recent murders involving prostitutes? They would’ve been stabbed to death and their hair would’ve been cut off by the killer,” that causes the other Agents to exchange confused glances, intrigued by the sudden event. 

“When was the last recent victim?” the Doctor inquires to the Detective on the line. 

Seems like we have a case, Amy processes. 

[shipforshippers]

Hidden Inventory Arc (Jujutsu Kaisen): Aftershocks

Gojo's Past aka Hidden Inventory arc is probably did something that took Naruto to 448 chapters (Obito's storyline) to complete in just 14 chapters.

Boy did Gege Akutami hit the ball out of the park with this arc! Here is the listicle of my selective Brain farts and aftershock of reading this arc. Some are good things, some are just my own queries and some are bad things to wish to be improved.

Aftershocks:

1. Friendships: Utahime Iori and Shoko Ieiri have a really underrated and precious friendship, that I would like to see. Something like in Jujutsu scroll.

2. Shoko Ieiri: I know people say Nobara Kugisaki is a better version of Sakura from Naruto. I say you are wrong! Shoko leiri is the better version of Sakura.

Please don't @ me!!!!!!!

Sakura Haruno in Naruto is somebody who has always worked under the shadow of these two Godlike Shinobis. She has always walked behind them, in her own words. She is a medical assistant. She is friends with the tsundere from another team(Ino). She does have some personal issues and she has learned to deal with them in punches. BUT we are here for Shoko Ieiri, She is the third member of the Godlike Socercers' team. She is doesn't go on dangerous missions. She is a medical assistant. She is friends with the tsundere from another team(Utahime). See, what I mean when I say they have so many things in common. BUT there is a key difference between these two ladies. Shoko has never relied on the boys. She never yearned for their approval. In fact, after committing heinous crimes Geto came to visit her, and in response asking him to come back she knew her boys well enough to let them have their last conversation. Even as an adult, she is the one who sided with Gojo on Yuji's death.

YES, I know that Sakura and Shoko both are different character types. One is kind of tsundere and the other is emo type. Having said that, I know these two ladies had served a similar kind of purpose for their respective duo. Neither of the ladies has tons of details on them but one is given respectable characterization and another one has tokenism, guess which one is which?

3. Hidden gems - principal Yaga and Kuroi Misato: Well, he is not a principal in this timeline. Yet, the punching Gojo gave me flashbacks of the Goodwill event.

This is something that so many anime have done in past so well. And there is a solid reason that this kind of dynamics works. serious teacher- idiot student! their affection and understanding are great character dynamics.

Kuroi Misato, the caretaker of Riko. She was more than that she was family to Riko. She was badass through and through! Also a fan of Mario Kart just like Nobara. I thought she needed a special mention.

4. Character deaths: Gege from the beginning was not afraid to kill his characters. whether Yuji in the very second arc, Junpei in the following arc, Gege Akutami killed his character if it was necessary for our trio. However, it is Riko's death that catapulted us into whatever we are getting currently. It moved the plot in an instant with a shock to everybody's system. Needless to say, it was very well done! But, dear god, Riko was a sweetheart! honestly, when Gojo carried Riko's body, that made my eyes tear up!

Evil but the absolute genius stroke was when Riko realized and had the real option to go back and live a normal life, in that exact moment her life was taken away from her. like I said, evil but genius!

5. Trash talk: I mean Toji and Satoru did name-call each other. But seriously they should take pointers from Nobara. Boy does she do a great job in trash talk!! And no that is not an observation, it is a fact!

6. Chapter 69: Just ignore the number. The thing I am getting into is not something new. People before me and a lot more credible than me have said this. However, here I go, the one thing that is difficult about JJK, is the art style whenever the story kicks into gare. The art style gets all lines and mushy whenever the battle starts. And it is not good when you are a battle shounen manga! But personally, sometimes this art style makes it difficult to read the manga (though it might be not for everyone). So as a result I find anime does one better here. But this very chapter is easy to read. It was easy to flow. I am not well versed in a manga art form, but when I see one I know one. And as much as I love the story, but when the story goes into a battle mode I have to reread some parts or google later on to understand what is happening. That being said Chapter 69 (Yes! I am giggling, I will give you some time to giggle also), by far the easiest to read. All the action scenes were easy to read, all the funny scenes landed perfectly. So, Kudos!!! More of this, please!

7. Bits and pieces: a) Yuki had an eye on Maki, is that what page 134 was about? b) You can't convenience me that; Geto has a rainbow dragon, the cover page of chapter 63, and cover page of chapter 77 is not gay! There are gay, and I am happy about it!

c)Gojo looking up at his students, smiling like crazy, was such a dad thing to do! Add to that it was only Megumi person to question about that said smile, had my heart filled with warm familiar love!!!

8. Toji Fushiguro: What is there to say that has not been already said on the internet for this fictional character. I mean, I would have loved it if some people would have kept it to them about this man. However, here are my 2 cents about this man, I simp for Toji Fushiguro!

What were expecting?! I mean look at all the fan art he has, how can you not simp for him? regardless of which spectrum you lie on. He is hot in almost all his fanart. I am also surprised that so many people missed the fact that Gege Akutami called Toji, Papa-guro?! No one is gone to question that? that how utterly cute that it is!

If you have come this far then I would like to thank you! Also please leave your favorite fanfics recordations in notes cause I am lazy!! thank you!!!

[spectrumed]

2. voice

As a child I could not pronounce the letter R. I once complained to my mother for being so careless as to give me a name that had two R’s in it. Fredrik. Or as I pronounced it back then, “Fledlik.” Cute, right? I was a cute child, all blonde and with big blue eyes. At one point, I got surrounded by a group of older girls who forced me to pronounce my name, even though I really couldn’t. They laughed and laughed, teasing me for my inability to pronounce even my own name correctly. If I ever had a reason to develop a fetish for femdom, I think this would have been it.

Like it or not, in speech, there is no room for individual quirks. No, we’ve all got to learn how to speak properly. Historically, that has led to some pretty heinous attitudes towards regional accents, any tongue that was the standard was seen by default as being less or developed and intelligent. Regional accents were seen as practically unhygienic, the worry being that if people just got to speak as they wished, they might end up potentially thinking dangerous thoughts. While I understand the importance of being understood, it’s clear that the stigma that exists around speech difficulties stems from a place of prejudice. If a person has a lisp, do you really struggle to understand them? And while stammering can be quite debilitating, it should be blatantly obvious that shaming people who stammer, suggesting that they are bereft of intelligence, is not the way to help them. Humans are social animals, and language may be the one thing that distinguishes us as a species, it is natural that proper elocution should be treasured. But some people do struggle with their speech, and that should not cost them any respect or kindness.

As a child, I didn’t speak nearly enough. As an adult I am speaking too much. That’s the problem with you, Fredrik, you’ve never understood that there is a middle ground between two extremes. There is a way you can speak that is neither too quiet, nor too loud. It is how normal people speak. Why can’t you be normal, Fredrik? Are you going to spend this whole blog post talking about how difficult it is for you to simply learn to be like everyone else? Self-pitying yourself, much? Back in my day people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, if they had something they struggled with, they learned to sort it all out, and they didn’t start complaining about society being all mean to them. You’re just spending too much time inside your own head, go take a swim, take up a hobby that requires you to step outdoors, it will serve you well. Don’t be a freak, Fredrik. Be normal, for once.

On a side note, “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” is meant to be understood as an impossible feat. You can’t possibly pull yourself up by your bootstraps, it’s ludicrous to even suggest that such a thing may be feasible. While, yes, there are many things you can do to help yourself, ultimately, you can’t profoundly escape from a sorry situation you’ve found yourself in without some outside help. There is no shame in requiring help. To guilt someone into thinking that if they can’t do it alone, they are weak, is frankly sociopathic. Humans need each other, we take care of each other, we are there for each other. Self-sufficiency is great, but let’s not take it to levels of absurdity by suggesting that needing help from others is anything but normal. No-one succeeds in life without others there to prop them up. Instead of telling someone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, you might as well tell them to go and swallow the sun, which is clearly another impossible task.

Most people will never in their lives experience what it is like to go through a neuropsychological evaluation. Turns out that it is not always such a pleasant experience. Though, considering the popularity of pseudo-scientific nonsense like the Myers-Briggs test, I am sure some folks would lie and pretend to love it. Certainly, there is a charm to being there and talking about yourself for several hours near-uninterrupted, but the exhaustion that you will feel at the end of it cannot be understated. Naturally, it does vary between who does it, and why they’re doing it. But if the stated goal is to find out whether you’ve had a neurodevelopmental disorder since you were but a young babe, then of course, there are going to be some pretty long conversations happening about those early days. Lots of stuff you may not have considered or thought about in a very long time will suddenly become very relevant to your current situation. And at the end of it all, you get some papers detailing your fashionable new diagnosis. Your entire life, all written down. Can make you feel rather wistful. And there’s really quite a surprising amount of typos included in the text, and barely any jokes.

Still, as part of my official diagnosis, there is a reference to my speech at being at times “stilted.” Though, the diagnosis does take very good care to mention that I appear intelligent and thoughtful, exhibiting a wide vocabulary and a good sense of the right words to use at the right moment. It’s flattering, for the most part. Yet, it does irk me that I could be perceived as being stilted. I know that at this point, I am being petty, because who cares if I sometimes come across as maybe a little robotic. I’ve got Asperger’s. Of course I am a robot. The closest role model we folks with Asperger’s ever had for the longest time was Star Trek: The Next Generation’s android named Data. God forbid anyone like me ever turned out to be the protagonist of a series, we’re all doomed to play the part of the robot, the alien, or the socially awkward geek. I should just be delighted that I am high-functioning. I know how much worse some have it. I should be grateful and pleased that I come across as mostly normal, mostly neurotypical. But… I really just don’t want anyone to think my speech is stilted. I don’t want to be Data. I want to be Riker.

It is never enough, you’ll never be good enough. If you fake it, they’ll see through it. If you struggle and if you work honestly to appear more normal, they won’t recognise it. As soon as they get an inkling you may be an imposter, looking like them, but having a neurologically deviant brain, they’ll single you out. For you, normalcy is an illusion. To attempt to be normal is to remake yourself only to receive nothing. Sure, you can be disingenuous, pretend you're not yourself, but it’ll never fool them. In the end, you’ll only lose yourself. Maybe I should just own the fact that my speech sometimes comes across as being stilted. Maybe I should own it. Be proud of who I am. But… sometimes I just don’t want to be me.

I want to be ignored. Sometimes, not always. But that goes for everyone. But most of all, I’d like to be able to go unseen whenever I’m not trying to impress anyone. When I’m just off to buy some milk. When I’m sitting on the bus. When I’m walking through the park. I know it is partly paranoia, but I can’t help but feel like I stick out. It’s always been like that with my friends growing up. The metaphor I used with my therapist is that I felt like a thumb. That they, my friends, were the fingers and I was the thumb. Sure, we’re similar. In many ways we’re the same. You could even say that I was crucial to making the social dynamics work. Who doesn’t like the thumb? What would you do without your thumb? But still, I was different. Some people would do anything to be different like that, to feel special. Some folks feel all invisible and forgotten in the crowd, and I’d lie if I told them that I didn’t envy them sometimes. The ability to go all invisible? That seems swell! There’s this question people like to ask as a sort of personality test. If you could choose a superpower, would you rather be able to fly, or would you rather be able to go invisible? The answer is obvious, as far as I’m concerned. Of course I’d love to be able to go invisible. To be able to exist without anyone seeing me. Without anyone judging me. Without ever having to worry if someone is going to treat me as different. For a moment to feel what it is like not to be some big, dumb, stupid, thumb.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not too anguished. Nowadays, I feel like I am in a relatively good place. But I would be lying if I told you that I still don’t get frustrated at the plethora of difficulties I face just trying to blend in. Even with family members, people who are supposed to know you the best, even then I have to go out of my way to behave a certain way, to exist a certain way, because fundamentally, they just don’t seem to get you. Not in that way. They have an image of you that you need to try and match. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that sometimes you need to be more direct in your communication to truly reach me, I don’t pick up on the many smaller little social cues they may throw my way, it’s still just me being silly and looking for excuses for why I didn’t understand them the first time around. And I am deathly afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings. A very prevalent misconception about autistic individuals is that we don’t care if we’re being rude. That if we are rude, our rudeness can simply be overlooked because, y’know, we’re autistic. While this sort of thing is commonly represented in media that is supposed to depict autistic characters, in real life, things don't quite work like this. Believe it or not, readers, being autistic is not a free pass to act like a dick. Autistic individuals still very much have to modulate our behaviour if we wish to fit in and be accepted. No-one will ever excuse you for being autistic. To be autistic is living with extra hurdles in your way, thinking that it’s anything but a social handicap is romanticising a diagnosis you clearly know very little about.

When I was a kid, I didn’t speak much. As far as I was concerned, I merely spoke whenever I needed to speak. It took until adulthood for me to learn that my parents and teachers were actually concerned about that. I was made to see a specialist, under the guise of learning elocution, but I’ve later come to realise that those meetings were about more than just learning to pronounce the letter R. Like, what does testing my memory have to do with diction? Yes, her job was partly to help my speech develop more in line with the other kids, but she was also there to evaluate whether or not I was intellectually disabled. I have come to learn that I had teachers at the time that were adamant about me going to a different school, more equipped to handle kids like me, but my mother vehemently defended my right to stay in the school I was in. After all, I did have friends, and to anyone who really knew me, they knew that I was a bright child. Sure, I wasn’t as communicative as the other children, but I clearly had no issues processing information, and it’s not like I was disruptive in some other way. But that was also part of the problem. The teachers that thought that I may need specialist schooling were concerned about the fact that I was too placid and too agreeable. They wanted me to express frustration at my lacking pronunciation, to see me get mad at others for not fully understanding me. That amazes me, if anything. The fact that I was a happy kid they took as some indication that I wasn’t quite right.

My mother delights in a memory of me as a kid once slamming my fist on the table and declaring that “now, I am speaking!” May I remind you that I was a cute kid. Sure, it is the sort of behaviour that parents of the old times would have spanked their kids for. Kids in the past were supposed to be quiet. To be seen, but not heard. I wonder if there’d be any kind of hubbub about my early development if I lived back then. I’d probably be seen as the ideal child, all pretty and docile and never too loud. Still, it was a moment my mother cherished, because for once, I really proved that I did have the capacity to speak. Though, I still couldn’t pronounce my R’s. But it was time for Fledlik to speak.

[imma-potatoo]

Quest For A Smile

A Christmas Oneshot for my Blond Janus AU!

Summery: Janus has never gotton a chance to celebrate Christmas before. The others fully intend to change this fact as well as making the side smile.

Huge special thanks to @superwholockandpfl and @mother-snake for making my year amazing and pushing me to improve my writing! You two are absolutely amazing and I can't express enough gratitude 💛💙💚

Words: 5,196

Janus sighed heavily as he walked in the front door. Blond curls a complete and total mess, coated with sweat and a slight tinge of blood. As the door shut behind him he leaned against it with a groan and an unpleasant look on his face. Wrath was angry again, he managed to escape before any real harm could be inflicted but Janus still breathed in deep and held it for multiple seconds to calm his nerves. Soon his lungs cleared and he could breathe easy once more. Something smelled off this time though, the lightsides home typically smelled of fresh chocolate and golden brown cookies, of the forest and the thick mist of lakes, of crofters and handbound books. But this time it was different…

 The air was filled with the smell of gingerbread, a hint of fresh pine and peppermint. Glitter seemed to be permanently soaked into the carpet. The air was warm and filled with the scent of sugar with sweetened honey and nutmeg. Soft sounds of cheerful music filled the house as laughs filed in from the living room.

Janus pushed himself away from the door, locking it securely, before walking into the living room. He was swaying back and forth a bit, but that was nothing compared to the pure dose of pure confusion when he saw the other sides. 

Absolutely hideous sweaters, fur-trimmed red hats with a cotton ball on the end, an ear-to-ear smile, and slightly thicker pants, it was on every side. Janus wasn’t used to this. He was used to the normal wear of the others, even the twins dressed down. But Janus had definitely seen weirder things that day and just collapsed onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Attempting to avoid staining the couch with blood, but it was a fruitless effort as the wound hit the cushion directly.

The others stopped their laughter and exchanged a look of confusion with one another. Janus was very rarely happy when he came in the door, often sporting multitudes of injuries and grumbling swears under his breath as he raided the medical cabinet for the fifth time that week. The sides felt horrible after seeing every bandage and cut. Virgil walked up to the smaller side.

“Jannie?” muffled grumbles and obscurities came from the side on the couch, “come on baby snake. I gotta see your injuries” more mild swears escaped the younger's lips as he sat up with a scowl.

His scales were patchy, a few torn-out leaving empty, gaping, bloody holes in their stead. The blood was dried on his cheek; smelling so much like iron the others had to hold in their retching. A huge black eye was already forming on his right and his cheeks were soaked in painful tears. His outfit was a mess, his black dress shirt was torn in multiple places, revealing more oozing blood from underneath. Yellow suspenders hanging limply from his shoulders. On his left temple was a large gash, heavily and steadily leaking more of the bright crimson liquid. Janus looked sad and broken, his eyes were dull as he stared into Virgil's warm gray ones.

Virgil stared at his child in horror, every time that Janus had returned to the light side, he had this spark. This look in his eyes that compelled him to fight. That forced him to stand back up after every hit and strike. It was almost like a pull that required him to keep fighting. But even the strongest fighters can’t get back up occasionally. And Virgil could tell that Janus was falling, because of that spark that powered Janus’ every move.

It was gone.

The one thing that Virgil refused to do was let his baby fall. He had broken too many promises to break his entire purpose of being a father.

Virgil smiled, it was fake and too hard to pull off, but he gazed into Janus’ blue and yellow eyes anyway. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up,” Virgil held out his hand for Janus to take, watching as the smaller side extended his hand slowly and rested it in his palm. Virgil helped the yellow side stand shakily as he led him to the kitchen, extending the sides a look as he walked away.

When the duo got to the kitchen, Virgil picked up Janus like he weighed nothing -it wasn’t far off- and plopped him on the counter. “Stay right here, I’m going to go grab the medkit from the bathroom. Ok?” Virgil watched as Janus held himself tightly; watching as the side nodded slightly as his eyes were trained to the floor. Virgil felt his stomach churn as he walked away from the side and back to the group, the plastic smile melting away faster with every step only to be replaced with a heart of lead and eyes doused in concern.

Logan stopped Virgil on his mission for the medkit, “Is Janus adequate?” his lips twisting into a frown while Virgil shook his head as Patton interrupted, “what's wrong with our kiddo?” you could hear the heaviness in his voice. It was shaking as if it was afraid to know the answer. 

Virgil drew a deep breath as he looked at the sides, their eyes crawling with concern and nervousness. “The last time that he acted like this… it- it wasn’t good.” Virgil looked down at the ground, “When he was fifteen, Wrath and Depression did a number on him. And…. and he was bleeding out. Completely collapsed in the main hallway, and when-” Virgil’s voice had gone rough, closing up to prevent any noise from escaping. But he pushed through and continued speaking anyway, “When I found him I took him back to my room and started to patch him up. But- but he just stopped me and told me to let him go.” Virgil could feel the tears leaking down his cheeks as he continued the story, “I patched him up regardless but the week after-” he drew another breath slow and steady, calming down his nerves. “The week after, I found him lying in a pool of his own blood next to a note.” his own voice sounded choked, “I don’t know what's happening with Jan… but I’m not going to lose him because of a mistake I made years ago.” Virgil wiped away his tears as he started to walk away to get the medical kit.

“Virgil?”

Virgil turned to face Logan, “Do the darks celebrate Christmas?”

 Virgil shook his head, “no, holidays were seen as weakness. Especially Christmas…. I always tried to get him a gift though”

Logan nodded with a sour look on his face, expression bitter as he played with the trim of his Christmas sweater. Brows furrowed in thought as Virgil walked away. Logan's mind was whirring. Twisting and turning like the gears on a machine. Granted, Logan was always thinking. That was his sole function. To think and to problem solve. Logan has never been one to admit that he had emotions, he actively denied having any such thing, but he wouldn’t lie and say that he was unhappy. He had a loving family, a table with food that wasn’t green with mold, a safe warm bed where he could fall asleep without having to risk making it to morning. His life was far from perfect, but it was nowhere near Janus’. And ever since Virgil had told them where Janus was meant to be, a huge pit of guilt was starting to gnaw at his stomach. And that wouldn’t stand, it didn’t matter if Logan had to personally dispose of the dark sides himself. He was going to make Janus smile.

By the time that Virgil returned with the medkit and started to patch up Janus, Logan had discussed his plan with the rest of the family. The twins got to work crafting an early gift for the yellow side. Janus was way smaller than the rest of them, maybe 5’3” while Patton -who was the second shortest of the bunch- was 5’8”. The sides tried to make it fit the best as possible; without showing Janus of course. And eventually, the gift was all wrapped up in a neat bow and ribbon, waiting for the recipient.

When Virgil finished fixing up the smaller side, he took Janus’ hand and led him back to the living room where all the sides were waiting, all excitedly bouncing up and down. Virgil could feel Janus tense up as they sat on the couch, the younger side attempting to keep his thoughts in line and his breathing calm, repeating over and over that he was safe and that they wouldn’t hurt him.

 They would never hurt him, this is the light sides, they’re good people, hitting someone makes you a bad person; right? But, there are always exceptions to the rules, if someone is hurting a bad person to protect a good person does that mean that the abuser is good? Janus’ leg was bouncing repeatedly, his eyes growing hazy. Breathing grew faster and faster as the thoughts turned even more toxic, repeating a horrible mantra of hate and disgust for the side’s own skin. After all, if everything’s supposed to happen for a reason, why did he hurt every day? Good people get rewarded, bad people are punished. So if he’s getting punished every day, wouldn’t that make him bad? What did he ever, ever do to get this kind of treatment? This isn’t fair, why couldn’t it be fair? What did he do? How many bruises could make up for whatever heinous crime he’d committed? He’s tired, he’s just so tired, is it so much for him to ask for him to just sleep fore-

“-Seven, eight. Come on buddy! You here?” Janus was broken from the toxic mantra with the lights grabbing his hand. Bringing him back to reality. He nodded, sucking in a large breath. He didn’t even notice that he was spacing out, blocking out all of his surroundings. Drawing one more breath he looked back up at the light sides. Finding faces full of concern and worry. Doubtful glances at one another when Janus said that he was fine.

Janus looked up at the others, “what did you guys need?” his voice was slightly shaky as he touched his bandaged temple, flinching back his hand after it stung horribly.

“Um, hi kiddo!” Patton could barely meet his eyes, “how ya feeling?” Janus shrugged, his eyes training back to the ground, “We um, got you a present!”

Janus’ eyes snapped back up, “What?”

The others exchanged a look, “Yeah, Jannie, it's a Christmas Gift.” Janus looked confused as he blinked repeatedly in complete wonderment “you….. have gotten a gift before right?”

Janus nodded, “well, I have. But the others always got rid of them.” and that was the exact second that the mood died.

Roman  was confused, “What do you mean they ‘got rid of them’ snakes n ladders?”

Janus looked a little puzzled, “Well, Vee would get me a gift, I would get to play with it for a while and then they would find out and burn it.” Janus hesitantly turned his gaze to the others, finding looks of horror, anger, and tears leaking down their faces, “I take it that it's not supposed to be like that?”

Patton has his hand clasped over his mouth as thick globs of tears leaked down his cheeks. Shaking his head repeatedly, “No- no, kiddo! The presents you get are supposed to stay with you! And you’re supposed to keep them! And love them! And they’re supposed to be precious memories, not ashes in the fireplace!”

Janus looked back to the floor, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and confusion, “oh”  

Roman patted the father figment on the back as he wiped his tears. He grabbed a large yellow package from the coffee table and placed it lightly in the younger sides lap.

Janus reached out his hand tentatively, lightly stroking the black glittery ribbon that wrapped the yellow paper. The paper was covered in small snakes winding up various Christmassy items like trees and ornaments. Janus felt a stinging sensation come to his eyes as his voice felt stuck in his throat. “F-for me?” questioning eyes met the others. He looked back down to the gift once he got confirmation through various modes of agreement.

With the security of the smiles and encouragement of the lightsides, Janus grabbed the ribbon and pulled. It fell away as Janus ripped the yellow paper carefully. His fingers shook slightly as he opened the box, his eyes widened as he completely lost his ability to speak.

Inside of the box was a sweater. It was plush and a vibrant yellow. The wool was as soft as a cloud with ornaments, candy canes, and swirls and dots filled in the gaps as the pattern. It was a standard Christmas sweater,  but it was clear by the hiccuping tears streaming down the side’s face, that it meant a lot to him.

Bringing his hand to his mouth to muffle the sobs, he pulled the sweater out of the box and pulled it close to his chest. A small note falling to his lap.

The others watched as Janus shakily picked up the note and as the tears leaked down faster as he read on.

‘Janus, we know that this gift cannot make up for all the missed Christmases. But, you deserve to have a happy day. Will you spend the day with us? ~Logan, Roman, Patton, Virgil, and Remus’

Janus looked up at the others with a shocked face, his mouth gaped open in shock, eyes wide as hope filled his irises once more. The sweater was pulled close to his chest, doubtful -but hopeful- eyes flicked back and forth between the five of them, “y-you mean it?”

Virgil rushed to his child, sitting quickly but not too roughly as to startle him. “Janus, look at me.” The yellow side raised his eyes to meet his, the grip tightening on the sweater, “I’m not going to take your gift, my hatchling.” Virgil breathed deep as the side lightened his grip ever so slightly, “you shouldn’t have to worry about anything that you currently do. And, my adorable hatchling, we would never do anything that could make your life even harder.” Virgil slowly reached for Janus’ hands, “now, do you want to have a real Christmas?”

The others held their breath as seemingly millions of different emotions flashed on the smaller side’s face, their eyes flickering nervously before Janus pulled his hands away from Virgil and they felt their hearts sink like a ball of lead.

The others watched with tear-filled eyes while Janus pulled the sweater over his head. The side looked up at them with wide hopeful eyes, “please?”

--------

Sooner than Janus could blink, he was bundled like he was going to Antarctica, and they were trudging outside towards an evergreen forest.

Janus walked beside Virgil, a beanie covering his blond locks while Virgil let his jet black hair blow freely in the crisp winter wind. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they followed the twins. Virgil humming a small tune that Janus thought was a Christmas carol. Oversized mittens covered the half-snakes hands, keeping them very warm and content; as well as a matching yellow scarf. but truth be told, Janus had absolutely no clue about Christmas.

The sides stopped at the forest; Janus, Logan, and Virgil watched the other three run wild in the evergreens. Janus stood there puzzled as Remus climbed one of the trees to get a better view of the land, Janus turned to Virgil, “Hey dad?” Virgil looked down at the side, Janus’ eyes were wide like a doe’s, his face was questioning.

“Yeah, Jan?”

Janus played with the ends of his mittens, “Why are we here?” his eyes stayed calm for a second before dissolving into pure panic, “not that I’m not happy to be here! I just don’t get why we went to an evergreen forest to celebrate Christmas……”

Virgil blanked out for a second, then it clicked. Janus didn’t understand Christmas… and Virgil was determined to change that fact.

Virgil let out a small smile, “Come sit down, I’ll tell you,” Virgil led the smaller side to a fallen log, sitting down and waiting for Janus to do the same. Virgil went to open his mouth when Janus sat next to him with curious eyes, only to pause and take a deep breath, “LOGAN!!!”

Logan raised an eyebrow at Virgil, before sighing and walking to the pair -shoving a bookmark in his book while he was at it. He stopped before the purple side, “Yes Virgil?”

Virgil rubbed his eyes with his hand, “L, can you tell Jan why we put a pine tree inside for Christmas? I don’t know how to explain this…”

Logan perked up slightly, “Of course! I’ll be happy to explain!” he sat down on the other side of Janus. “Christmas trees were originally from Germany. Specifically, it was developed in medieval Livonia -present-day Estonia and Latvia- and early modern Germany where German protestant christens brought decorated evergreens into their homes. However, in ancient Egypt, during the winter solace, the Egyptians would fill their homes with palm leaves. And, the early Romans celebrated Saturnalia, in honor of Saturn; god of agriculture and they decorated their homes and temples with evergreen boughs. But that's not even mentioning the celts!” Logan beamed as Janus listening intently, the yellow side seemed to be absorbing every once of information that Logan provided. Logan relaxed comfortably on the fallen tree, telling Janus the reason they put ornaments on the tree as the side stared at him with sparkling eyes.

The two left-brain sides talked all the way back to the house, the tree in hand, Janus occasionally prompting more questions from the blue side and the said side happily answering them. Virgil let loose a small grin as he saw Janus happily talking and asking questions about evergreens

The sides got back to the house and the twins started to trim and set up the tree.

Janus and Logan sat on the couch to continue their discussion on why all of Santa’s Reindeer were actually female when Patton called for Janus from the kitchen. Janus looked at Logan with a fond expression, but no smile…

Janus stood up and walked past Virgil and Remus arguing over a gingerbread cookie, apparently, it was different from the other cookies…. Janus didn’t get it, he walked carefully into the kitchen where Patton was leaning over the counter with a small hum under his breath.

“You called Patton?” Janus played with the end of his Christmas sweater, he kept the black beanie too. Patton turned around with a bright grin

“Hiya kiddo!” Patton was wearing a blue apron reading ‘give the cook a puppy!’ with a spatula and a smear of frosting on his cheek. “Wanna help me decorate a gingerbread house?!” Patton watched as different emotions flickered over the younger's face, he looked at the father figment with a look of pure confusion.

“But, can’t you just eat the candies how they are? I thought that no one ate the gingerbread anyway, so isn’t that kinda a waste?” Janus’ looked at the candy by the undecorated house, the house was already assembled to prevent any anger and frustration, Janus turned back to Patton when he heard the side giggle.

Patton rocked back and forth on his heels, hands covered in flour and sugar which were tied up in the strings of his apron, a small grin on his lips as he made eye contact with Janus. “I mean… I guess you could just eat the candy…. But decorating it is half the fun! Besides! Remus and Logan love gingerbread! Plus I made it from scratch, so it’ll taste good!” Patton turned back to the counter and started rustling in the baking ingredients before grabbing something with a squeal and turning back to Janus. He held out his hand to the smaller side, offering the cookie.

Janus looked at the cyan side and hesitantly raised his own hand shakily to take the sweet. Patton was patient as his brain screamed danger and he has to fight to keep himself calm, keeping the cookie exactly where it was with a calm smile and relaxed eyes. Though Janus could tell that there was some underlying nervousness, maybe it was because his grip on the cookie was a little too tight, or because he could sense how afraid the others were of upsetting him, or maybe it was because the tension in the air was never gone when he was around. They didn’t want to make him upset. Janus didn’t know how to feel about that information.

Janus grabbed the cookie and brought it to his lips, trying to ignore the urge to not eat anything that another person gave him, and he took a bite. Nutmeg and ginger filled his senses, the cookie was sweet but slightly dry as it crumbled in his mouth as he continued to chew. The next bite, he bit into some chocolate which brought his senses over the moon. It was soft as his teeth repeatedly sank into the brown shape. He looked up at the father figment with wide sparkling eyes, “what kind of cookie was that?!”

Patton chuckled as Janus continuously went back for more bites of the cookie, “That was a gingerbread man kiddio! Homemade too!” Janus seemed to be zoned out as Patton laughed slightly under his breath. “I’ll take it that you’re helping me decorate?” the same happy grin only grew as Janus nodded his head vigorously.

Janus and Patton decorated the gingerbread house with every single candy they could fit on to the tiny baked good. Frosting smothered every inch and candy was thrown around like snow in a storm. Patton giggled as he saw Janus occasionally sneak  a few candies, “come on kiddo! Don’t eat all the candy! We gotta use some on the house!” Patton could pinpoint the exact second that Janus’ expression fell, he was so close to getting him to smile only for him to ruin it with a silly comment. “Oh! No! No no no no! Kiddo, it's ok! Here, I can get you your own bowl of candy!” Patton walked away from the counter with a heavy heart.

He had been so close to getting Janus to smile! It was right there! He could see Janus’ lips start to turn into a weavering smile and he just had to make that comment, Patton walked over to Virgil under the guise of grabbing some candy from the bowl in the living room.

He started filling the small bowl with candy, “hey, Kiddo?” Virgil hummed in response, scrolling through his phone, “has Janus ever had any sweets before?” that stopped Virgil in his tracks, he turned off his phone and looked Patton directly in the eyes.

“Patton, you do know what you’re asking me right?” Virgil kept his eyes trained on the cyan side as he nodded. Virgil rubbed his temple and sighed, “the others… are big on control. Wrath will force you to do something you regret and hold it over your head for years…. Anyway, one of the ways that Wrath,” Virgil felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine, “controls you, is by having complete power over the food supply. And sweets were not something that was handed out. Oftentimes we got stuck with some rotten excuse for food while the other three ate like kings” Virgil leaned to the back of the couch, his phone by his side, “Janus only got sweets when I managed to sneak them in.” Patton saw Virgil take large slow calming breaths, even and slow. “Now, popstar, what did you say to my kid?”

Patton took a deep breath, his chest was shaking, Virgil was known to be quite protective of the smaller side, “I didn’t mean to kiddo! He kept sneaking little pieces of candy and I told him to save some for the gingerbread house. I didn’t mean to make him upset!” Virgil sighed audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Take some of the charamals, I think he’ll like them.” Virgil’s voice was low, clearly quite tired. He analyzed the light blue side carefully. “Patton, I’m not angry. Just try to be a little more careful with how you phrase things.” Patton nodded, pulling the candy bowl close to his chest. His glum expression disappears in the matter of seconds. The brilliant grin back on his lips with full force.

“Thanks kiddo! Your dear old dad-” “Patton, I’m older than you.” “your dear old dad needed some pointers!” Patton walked away with a pit of lead in his stomach, his dark kiddos had suffered for so long and they could barely do anything for Janus due to the rules of the mind.

In order for a side to switch their part of the mind, they need “permission” from a side from their current place of residence and everyone in their future residence. Janus had everyone’s acceptance from the lightside, but the darks refusing to let him go. Janus was the side to give Remus and Virgil permission and now the poor side is stuck because there is no way the darks are going to give up their leverage. Everyone on the lightside feels absolutely horrible.

It feels like a vicious cycle. Janus goes to the darkside, he gets hurt, he goes to the lightside to heal up and get some food, he stays for maybe a day (if he’s luckily) before he has to return to his room in the dark, only for the cycle to repeat over and over and over. Everyone knew Janus was falling, they just didn’t have the guts to say it.

Patton walked back into the kitchen with the bowl of candy. He hid the bowl behind his back, walking slowly to not startle the smaller side. Janus was barely up to his ear, wild blond curls stuck out every way they could manage, Janus turned and Patton got a better look at the shiny eyes that belonged to the younger side. His right eye was a light baby blue with speckles of green and gold. It reminded Patton of the glimmering galaxies that Logan often showed him, or of the rising and falling tides that were deadly but so serene. The other eye was a bright contrasting gold, it was rich in colour and metallic like a coin in a sunken chest. The pupil of the golden eye was slim like a snake, it was constantly flickering around the room -although Patton didn’t know if that was his snake instincts or a habit formed from years of planning desperate escapes.

“Hey kiddo! I got you something!” Janus looked a little confused, he normally didn’t get a single gift, more than one was almost unheard of, but he raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner nonetheless. “Hold your hands!” Janus followed his instructions slowly. Validity Deceit isn’t one to trust people blindly. Janus watched Patton closely as he pulled something from behind his back and set it in his hands. Janus felt his eyes widen

In his hands sat a bowl overflowing with sweets. Janus couldn’t form words as he kept staring at the bowl, chocolates to charamals to hard candy. Janus couldn’t get any words to form as he just kept staring at the bowl. He felt small pinpricks of tears spring to his eyes but managed to hold them in. Janus looked back up at Patton with joyful eyes.

“Thank you” his voice breathless

----

The freshly decorated gingerbread house sat on the coffee table, hot chocolate was pressed into the hands of the sides as they prepared to watch a christmas movie. The air was warm with the fireplace glowing burning flames. Janus stared into the dancing embers, entranced by the red blaze. It was so warm and comforting, it felt almost like a warm hug. But the flames also reminded him of Apathy and his lighter. That thought alone sent a shiver down his spine as the others argued over the movie

“The Muppets Christmas Carol!”

“The Grinch!”

“Noelle is an empowering movie for women.”

“Home Alone!”

“The Nightmare before Christmas!”

Janus hummed along to the radio that was playing in the meantime, the warm chocolatey drink was sweet. He didn’t know the words for the songs but he still enjoyed the songs regardless.

“Remus, we are not making Janus’ first christmas movie a horror film!” Roman was starting to get a little irritated with his twin. His quips were starting to get a little more bite than bark, the tension was starting to raise like it always did on their movie nights

“Well why not?! Come on Abel! Tell dear old Cain why we can’t watch a perfectly fine movie! Or is that stick up your butt shoved too far!?” Remus was just as mocking as the others stood on the sidelines. This was typical of the twins, they would settle down eventually and they could pick a movie.

Janus sitting in between Virgil and Logan, his head lolled to the side; resting on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil in turn, had his arm resting over his shoulder in a comforting manner.

Logan leaned against the back cushions, coffee in one hand, “actually, Cain was the older sibling so Remus comparing himself to Cain would be incorrect because he’s youn-”

“SHUT UP NERD!!!!” the twins both screamed at the same time, the house shaking at the pure volume for the yell. The very second the yell sounded, Janus flinched and Virgil pulled the yellow side onto his lap, wrapping both arms around him in a protective grip. 

The purple side growled lowly, “you two are going to calm down NOW. I’m not going to tolerate this today.” The red and green sides squeaked slightly at Virgil’s tempest tone, it wasn’t brought out often but when it was, it definitely got the others to listen. Virgil took a breath, calming his voice. “We’re watching Logan’s pick.” Janus had accepted his fate as a snuggle buddy, besides, he felt safe anyway.

The group was quiet, each side having their own questions in their mind. “Why Logans? Noelle isn’t normally on the watch list?” Roman huffed as he threw himself on the newly constructed pillow throne, he was just as dramatic as Juliet when she stabbed her own heart.

Virgil shrugged as he slightly loosened his grip on Janus, “Happy ending, good message, it's funny, and it has a great message of female empowerment.” The sides all snuggled into their chairs as Remus brought up the movie.

The fire was warm. Snow was falling gracefully out the window. The hot chocolate was steaming as marshmallows floated like little islands. The sides were calm, no injuries to tend or having to hide, only the calm steady breathing of the six as Santa walked on screen.

And Janus let out a small smile.

-------

Taglist:

@writerstrashbin , @psychedelicships , @cryptidwriterdotcom (ask to be removed or added)

@girl-with-many-fandoms @fortunatelyimperfect @idkanameatall

Merry Christmas my friends. I hope you enjoy this late Christmas present. ❤️💛💚💙💜💖

Blond Janus AU masterpost

[incorrecttonks]

Can you do Tedromeda for 2 on the holiday list?

2. You invited WHO to Christmas Eve Dinner?!

*Andromeda couldn’t believe what she was hearing.*

Andromeda:  You invited WHO to Christmas Eve dinner?!

Ted: Your sisters. I don’t see what the big deal is. They agreed to come, didn’t they?

Andromeda: This will be the first time I see them in seven years and the first time they’ll see Sirius since he ran away two years ago! This is a huge deal! They’ll spend the whole night criticizing our marriage and saying horrible things about our daughter! 

Ted: Or maybe Christmas magic will cause them to have a change of heart. 

Andromeda: Edward Tonks, you are completely delusional.

Ted: I know, but Christmas is the time to be with family. I know how close you and Bellatrix were as kids. I just want you two to have another chance to reconnect. Who knows, maybe Narcissa and Bellatrix will even have a soft spot for Dora. She could have her aunts, and maybe even some cousins eventually. 

Andromeda: *sighs* I’ll get the extra place settings ready. 

*At around 5 p.m., Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Narcissa arrived. Nymphadora ran to greet the guests, but her face fell when she saw it wasn’t Sirius.*

Nymphadora: Who are you?

Andromeda: Dora, sweetie, this is your Aunt Bellatrix, your Uncle Rodolphus, and your Aunt Narcissa.  Bellatrix, Narcissa, this is my 5-year-old daughter, Nymphadora.

Nymphadora: Don’t call me Nynfmadora! 

Andromeda: She’s going through a phase where she hates her name, but I’m sure it will pass. Until then, We’re usually just calling her either Nymphie or Dora.

Bellatrix: Well, I can clearly see she’s a half blood. Nothing special here.

*Dora morphed herself into Bellatrix.*

Nymphadora: I’m you now if you like that better.

*Bellatrix’s face lit up. She’s a metamorphmagus. If the Death Eaters had access to this child, she could be an asset.*

Bellatrix: Well that’s a nifty little trick! Why don’t you show your Auntie Bella what else you can do.

Ted: See? I told you they’d love her. 

*Bellatrix watched the child change her appearance in many different ways.* 

Bellatrix: It’s hard to believe a child with a talent like that could be the spawn of a mudblood.

Nymphadora: That’s not a nice word, Auntie Bella. 

Bellatrix: I can see your mummy has her own ideas on how you should be raised. We’ll have to fix that, right Cissy?

Narcissa: Oh, yes. Of course.

*Just as Andromeda was about to say something, there was a knock at the door. Sirius was there, and he’d brought friends. James Potter, Fleamont Potter, Euphemia Potter, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew all entered the house. *

Bellatrix: Sirius?! You blood traitor, you scum, you terrible-

Sirius: Bellatrix?! What are you doing here?!

Andromeda: Ted invited my sisters.

Bellatrix: I can’t believe you’re allowing our swine of a cousin to bring half breeds and even more mudbloods into your home. 

Nymphadora: Auntie Bella, you can’t say those words. That would be like if I called you a heinous bitch. 

*Bellatrix and Narcissa gasped. Sirius burst out laughing, high-fived Dora, and handed her an acid pop. She was picking up on what he’d taught her about Bellatrix.*

Andromeda: Nymphadora! I am so sorry. I have no idea where she learned that. Nymphadora, apologize to your aunt. 

Nymphadora: I’m sorry I called you a heinous bitch. Sirius said that was what we should call you. 

*Andromeda gave Sirius a deathglare.*

Ted: Anyway, now that everyone is here, we should eat.

Andromeda: Yes, of course. Our dining room is right in here. 

*They all sat down to eat dinner and catch up.*

Andromeda: So, it’s been a while. What have you two been up to?

Narcissa: I’m engaged!

Andromeda: Really? Who is he?

Narcissa: Lucius Malfoy.

Sirius: I can see after all of this time your standards are still in the gutter, Narcissa. 

Narcissa: Yes, well, you’re one to talk, Sirius. I heard you’ve been seeing Marlene Mckinnon. 

Sirius: You leave Marlene out of this! 

Fleamont: Marlene is a nice girl. She’s good for Sirius. From what I’ve heard about this Malfoy fellow, he is less than impeccable. 

Bellatrix: She hangs around with mudbloods and half breeds! These are the kinds of behaviors Nymphadora is going to have to unlearn once I take her. 

Andromeda: I beg your pardon?

Bellatrix: I figured I’d take your daughter home with me tonight and raise her myself. She’s a half blood, so with help from the right people, she might be salvageable. I could raise her properly, teach her the right way to behave, help her hone that ability of hers. Although I’m not sure I like the name Nymphadora. I’ll probably change it. I was thinking Vega.

Narcissa: Ooh, that’s a nice name. 

Andromeda: What?! No! You are not taking my daughter! 

Bellatrix: You’re being selfish! A life like this isn’t right for a girl with so much potential!

Andromeda: So you just want to use her, then?! 

 Bellatrix: I want to raise her right! Nymphadora, come along, we’re leaving. 

Ted: Dora, why don’t you go show Sirius and his friends your dolls?

Nymphadora: Okay.

*She ran up to her room and Sirius, James, Lily, Remus, and Peter followed.*

Andromeda: She is my child and I will raise her my way, without all of the backward things I grew up learning! 

Bellatrix: You’re wrong! Sooner or later, you are going to come to your senses and by then, that poor child is going to be damaged beyond repair! She can’t spend her whole life surrounded by mudbloods! She’ll become sympathetic towards those she is superior to! 

Andromeda: Get out of my house! Now! You too, Narcissa! 

*Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Narcissa left after Bellatrix finished yelling a few more choice words at Andromeda. Once the door slammed, Andromeda burst into tears and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Ted followed.*

Ted: Andie? Honey? Can I come in? 

Andromeda: It’s your room too. 

*Ted sat on the bed next to Andromeda.*

Ted: I am so sorry for inviting your sisters. I didn’t realize they were that bad.

Andromeda: I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m related to them.

Ted: I’m so glad I got the good sister instead of one of those two. It’s not your fault they’re your family.

Andromeda: They’re not my family. You and Dora, that’s my family. And Sirius. 

Ted: Why don’t we go back downstairs so that you can finish that wonderful dinner you made surrounded by your real family and their friends on this magical holiday?

Andromeda: That sounds nice.

[hollyxqx]

chained  //  yoongi  //  01

↪ PAIRING: Min Yoongi x Reader ↪ SUMMARY: Min Yoongi, a demon, has been ordered to protect you as punishment for his crimes; no matter what...and he's not happy about it. ↪ WORD COUNT: 6.3k 

↪ WARNINGS: dubious consent | blood | violence | attempted sexual assault | filthy demon sex

ONE | TWO | THREE

Her? Seriously?

Those were the first thoughts that entered Yoongi's mind when his target was revealed to him. He was sat on a chair in the courtroom with a guard on either side of him, each one had a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. Not that he would have dared move, anyway. He had caused enough trouble, which had landed him in this precarious position in the first place. And now he was paying the price.

Being a demon there were rules and restrictions they had to follow; just like humans. Yoongi had broken not just one but many of them. He'd killed another demon. He'd killed an ancient demon, which was considered heinous. You were to respect your elders, not kill them. The ultimate sin. He was lucky he wasn't being obliterated.

Instead, his punishment was you.

Apparently you were important for a human. Just looking at you, Yoongi couldn't see why, you looked like every other human to him. But according to the Judge you were going to be the mother of a baby who allow demons to finally live freely on earth. Something his kind had strived for since being banished from the planet thousands of years ago. You were the one to change that. Allegedly.

He was ordered to protect you. At all costs. Your life was essentially in his hands. The last thing he wanted was this kind of responsibility, this burden. Especially considering if he failed and you died, he would too. A demon's death wasn't exactly painless either. It was far worse than any human could even imagine. It was the ultimate punishment.

"Do you have anything to say before you are banished to Earth?" The judge's voice reverberated throughout the room and straight through Yoongi. Even he found it frightening.

"No." Yoongi said, head hanging low. He had a smart mouth and did not trust himself to speak in that moment. Knowing him he would make it worse for himself.

"Then I hereby sentence you to protect the human Y/N. You may return when your task is complete."

With a pounding of the gavel, Yoongi's world went black as he was teleported to Earth to begin his prison sentence.

***

Earth always smelled strange to Yoongi. He had been here three times before, on hitman business of course, and it always smelled the same. Like humans, he thought to himself. Humans had a very distinct odour, it was their blood. They smelled metallic. Sometimes Yoongi could even smell their emotions, human pheromones were highly detectable by demons. Especially when they were scared or frightened, sometimes even when they were happy.

He had landed on the street that you lived on, but with nothing other than the clothes on his back. He looked down at his wrists. Tattoos had appeared around them, black intricate lace bands that looked pretty but were actually handcuffs, tying him to you. He peeked at his ankles, confirming his suspicion. Tattoos had appeared there too. Shackles to go with his handcuffs, he was a prisoner after all. He sighed. He needed to find some accommodation.

Instinctively he could sense you were near by. It must be part of the spell that was written within the tattoo. He assumed he would always be able to feel where you were and if you were in danger. He followed that feeling, walking to your apartment building. He would choose to stay here for convenience sake. If he had to save you at a moments notice at least he would be close by.

Yoongi walked in to the foyer. There was an office marked 'building manager' and he listened for a moment. His heightened sense of hearing allowing him to realise that no one was on the other side. He unlocked the door with force, breaking the handle as he did so and entered the room.

There was a filing cabinet to his right and he opened the top drawer and started rifling through. He was looking for a list of the building's tenants, for two reasons. One; he wanted to see if this definitely was your building and two; he wanted to see which would be the easiest apartment to take over. Ideally a single tenant. Dealing with a family would be...messy.

He hummed in satisfaction when he found exactly what it was looking for. His eyes quickly scanned the page and to his delight there Y/N L/N was. His instincts were right. Next he looked for his target. When he saw a single guys name in apartment 3B he knew that was where he would head next.

He put the file away and left the office, taking the stairs to the third floor. He reached 3B and knocked on the door. After a few seconds the door swung open and a middle aged man stood before him. "Hello," Yoongi said and used his powers to throw the man with extreme force backwards into his apartment. He hit the wall and instantly was unconscious. "Thanks for the apartment." Yoongi said, striding in and closing the door behind him.

Step one, completed.

***

You were struggling with your shopping bags as you awkwardly fumbled with the door to your building. It was your fault for going grocery shopping on an empty stomach. You practically bought everything in sight, your hunger getting the better of you. However, you managed to make it to the elevator and press the button for your floor. Just a few more minutes and you would be home and free of the heavy bags on your wrists.

You reached your apartment and as you struggled with the keypad one of your bags split open and the contents spilled all over the hallway. "Oh shit." You groaned at the mess. Carefully you placed the remaining bags on the floor and did your best to gather the spilled items. However one stray tin can had rolled away and you crept along after it.

"Does this belong to you?" An unknown hand had reached down and picked the can up, inspecting it with a smirk. His eyes went to you and he wiggled the can at you. You let out a slightly embarrassed laugh.

"Oh yes, guilty!" You smiled, standing up. "That's mine."

"Spaghetti hoops, huh?" He asked, grinning almost wickedly. Your face flushed with embarrassment and you cursed your impulse buying.

"I went shopping on an empty stomach, what can I say." He reached out and handed the can back to you. "Thanks."

"Do you need a hand with the rest?" He asked, gesturing to your shopping bags strewn on the floor.

"Oh no, it's ok, I got it. Thanks though." You replied with a wave of your hand.

"If you're sure..." He trailed off. "I'm new to the building. May I ask your name?"

"Welcome," You said brightly. "I'm Y/N. And you?"

His eyes flashed with something you didn't recognise and it made you uneasy.

"Yoongi."

***

Yoongi paced the length of his stolen apartment, mind ablaze. After meeting you in the flesh earlier that day he knew exactly why he had been assigned to you, of all humans. You weren't like the rest of them. He suddenly understood why you were so special. And it was all because he had an almost uncontrollable urge to eat you. He wanted to devour you slowly.

He'd never had that feeling for a human before, ever - and he had been around a lot of them. You didn't smell like any human he'd ever come across either. You smelled sweet. Like sugar. It was bizarre to him. He wasn't even aware that it was possible to feel this way about a human. To his knowledge it had never happened before. He couldn't even contact anyone in the demon world to ask for more information.

As he continued pacing he felt something strange in his chest. That's new, he thought. Was it you? He paused for a moment, closing his eyes trying to focus on the feeling. It was you. But it didn't feel good. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, he was overcome with the urge to find you as this new feeling in his chest worsened. He didn't know how he knew it but he was certain you were in danger. Immediately he left the apartment and just let his feet guide him, trusting his gut instinct. He made his way down the stairs and out the building. His chest was burning now, he knew you were close.

As he scanned the parking lot he spotted you. You were pressed up against the wall where the trash bins were, hidden away from the world and a man was holding you at gunpoint, trying to snatch your purse from you. Yoongi rushed over and using his demon strength he lifted the man by the scruff of his collar, easily pulling him off you. With his free hand he casually snatched the gun out of his hand, to prevent the man from doing any damage. Yoongi didn't miss the wide eyed look of shock on your face.

Yoon giacted on instinct, twisting the man's head, instantly snapping his spinal cord. He crumbled down to the ground in a heap, dead. You screamed.

"Are you ok?" Yoongi asked you. He could hear your heartbeat and the smell of your fear almost turned him on. It radiated from you, filling his nostrils and making his brain cloudy. You didn't reply. "Are you?" He urged.

"Y-y-you, you - he's d-dead." You stuttered, raising a shaky hand to point at the body. Yoongi hadn't even thought twice about killing the man. He was a demon. Killing humans was normal for him. They were weak and inferior, their lives didn't mean much to him.

"He was going to kill you." Yoongi stated the obvious.

"You can't just kill people!" You hissed. He shrugged.

"He was only human. Not much of a loss." He said simply. Your face twisted in confusion at his words. No one told him he couldn't tell you what he was. He wasn't breaking any rules....as far as he was aware. "How did this even happen?" He asked, gesturing to the body.

"He followed me home..." You whispered. Yoongi closed his eyes for a moment. You're trembling voice and frightened demeanour combined with the smell of you was threatening to overcome him. He needed to be in control and you were making it difficult. "Why did you do that?" You asked shakily.

His eyes slowly opened again. "To save you."

"How did you know where I was?" You looked at him with such large, innocent doe eyes it almost made him want to bite into your flesh there and then. If only you knew what a monster he was, you wouldn't be gazing at him like that.

"I felt it." He said, eyes hardening as he looked at you. You looked bewildered.

"You...felt it?" You queried. He nodded. "How?"

"I'm not what you think I am, Y/N." He said quietly. "Go inside. I'll get rid of him." You didn't move and it frustrated him. He strode over to you and in one swift move, picked you up and forcibly took you back in to the building. He ignored your cries to put you down until you were at the elevators. "Go home." He instructed, giving you one more stern look before walking away.

"Wait!" You shouted but he ignored you. He had a body to dispose of.

***

It had been hours since you made it home and your heart was still hammering in your chest. What you had just witnessed outside made you question everything about your strange new neighbour. He had said some incredibly odd things that you could not forget, no matter how hard you tried to push them out of your mind. Yet, without him there was a high chance you would have been six feet under now. The thought made you restless, doing nothing to calm your shaking hands.

You thought about trying to find Yoongi's apartment, in a wild attempt to pry any answers you could from the man. You realised, with a sigh, you had no idea which door belonged to him. You'd have to wait for another chance encounter, and even then, you weren't guaranteed anything.

You made yourself some tea and with trembling hands you wandered over to the window ledge. Looking at the night sky was always calming to you and you loved this little nook where you could sit in your apartment. All you wanted now was calmness, after the chaos of the earlier evening. However something caught your eye in the parking lot. It was Yoongi.

He was stalking across the concrete, almost prowling and you noticed something animalistic in the way that he moved. His shoulders were hunched slightly and his brow furrowed with what looked like fury. It sent a shiver through you. It was only when he crudely used the back of his forearm to wipe his mouth clean did you notice the blood on his face. It covered the whole lower half, spilling down on to his neck and shirt. Was he injured? What was going on?

It was as if he could feel your eyes on him. As if by magic he paused, looking up directly to your window. You gasped, spilling some tea on the ground as you leapt back, caught. How could he have possibly known you were standing there? It was late, and dark. Any normal person would be long asleep.

You waited a moment before cautiously leaning forward to peek out the window again, but he was gone.

***

Weeks turned in to months and although you didn't see Yoongi you never forgot about him. It was strange to you how he could just vanish like that and you even questioned that he might have moved out. You were just going to have to accept that this person did something heroic for you once upon a time and that was it. Part of you wanted to thank him but you'd never be able to.

You were sitting at the red light, fingers aimlessly drumming along to the car stereo as you hummed along with the song. You were in no real rush to get home so you didn't mind the wait. Suddenly, a banging on the window caused you to almost leap out your seat. You turned to the source of the noise, mouth falling agape when your eyes locked with Yoongi.

"Get out the car!" He practically screamed, banging furiously on the window. He tried to open the driver door but it was locked, the handle clicking adding to his frustration. You were utterly bewildered. "Y/N listen to me! You need to get out now."

You rolled the window down as you frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?" You asked, incredulously.

Yoongi said nothing, leaning inside the open window and unlocking the door. He then proceeded to swing the drivers door wide open and made quick work of your seatbelt. He ignored your cries of protest, choosing to essentially rip you out of the car. In a moment you were in his arms being dragged to the pavement. "What the hell are you doing?!" You yelled, hitting your fists against his chest, struggling in his grip.

He said nothing, however your question was answered for you when a car came careering into the side of yours, crushing the metal where you had been sitting only moments ago. The sound of metal hitting metal rang in your ears and you gasped loudly in shock. "Saving your ass, again. You're welcome." Yoongi said almost smugly. He let go of you and you almost crumpled into a heap, legs weak from fright.

"H-how? How did you know?" Your voice was hoarse. You looked up at him wide eyed in terror.

"I felt that you were in trouble." Was his vague reply, much the same as the last time you had questioned him.

"That would have killed me." You stated the obvious. "You saved my life. Again."

"You're a fucking headache, you know that?" Yoongi said suddenly angry, pointing a finger at you. "You're the most troublesome human I've ever come across."

There he went using the word 'human' again, almost as if it was an insult. As if he wasn't human himself. "I didn't ask you to do that!" You retorted, matching his anger. "That was your choice!"

"It's not my fucking choice." He uttered darkly. His eyes narrowed at you. "Stay out of trouble, Y/N." And with that he turned to leave. You were quick this time though, reaching out to grab his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. He turned slowly to look at you.

"What does that mean?" You asked. He shook his head, refusing to answer. "Will you at least let me thank you properly this time?"

"How are you going to do that?" He scoffed, shrugging your arm off him.

"I was hoping you could tell me." You offered, somewhat shyly. You couldn't let him get away this time and disappear for months again. "Let me just sort out my car and I'll buy you coffee or food or something. Please."

You didn't care how desperate you sounded, you just need to make sure he wouldn't leave. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, whatever."

***

Yoongi couldn't believe he was sitting opposite you in a fucking human coffee shop of all places. The only reason he'd even agreed to it, aside from the pitiful look on your face, was because he was getting bored living on earth. All he did was wait around for you to get in some petty human danger so he could step in and save the day. After months he'd had enough.

The two of you were sat in a quiet corner of the coffee shop as you sipped a latter. Yoongi had ordered as well but he didn't drink it, he just didn't want to pique your curiosity and invite awkward questions by not ordering anything. After all, you thought you were doing him a favour. He smirked to himself. Cute, he thought. Humans are dumb.

"Will you tell me how you knew where I was today?" You asked in a small voice, stirring your coffee absent mindedly. Yoongi audibly sighed.

"Call it intuition." He replied, watching you curiously. He'd never seen you in daylight before and he took the time to study your features. You were attractive, by human standards, that was for sure. His eyes roamed your face, down to your neck and he could see the veins there. It took everything in him not to lick his lips as he imagined his teeth sinking into your flesh.

"Intuition..." You repeated, your voice trailing off. "Is it the same intuition that brought you to me before? That night I was mugged?"

Yoongi nodded.

"You're like my guardian angel or something." You joked, letting out a little laugh.

"I'm no angel, Y/N." He said darkly. You watched him carefully. "Trust me."

"What are you?" You said quietly, eyes never leaving his.

"I'm a bad guy." He said, unable to resist enjoying how you visibly tensed at the words. He couldn't help it, he loved when you were scared. He licked his lips. "I'd be your worst nightmare if I was allowed."

"What does that mean?" You asked cautiously.

"I told you before; I'm not what you think I am." Yoongi replied, leaning his forearms on the table, edging closer to you. "Human." He whispered deviously. Your face contorted in confusion, mouth falling open in shock.

"Human?" You whispered. "What are you?"

"Let's just say...I'm a prisoner." He offered.

"I don't understand." You frowned.

"You're not supposed to." Yoongi couldn't help but crack a smile at your expression. Oddly, he enjoyed teasing you. "I guess you'll be needing a ride home?" He asked, switching the subject. Yoongi had recently been able to acquire a car, having learned to drive a long time ago.

"Oh...." Your voice faded away at the realisation. "Yeah. Yeah I will."

"Follow me." He instructed, slipping out of his chair and making his way to the door. You reluctantly trailed behind.

***

Months passed again and still no sign of Yoongi.

It wasn't like you missed him exactly. It was more a winding curiosity about him. After the day he joined you for coffee and dropped you home you felt like you had even more questions than before.

A thought occurred to you, maybe there was a way you could summon him. He appeared whenever you were in danger, so logically...if you were in danger again, that would cause him to show his face, right? Why didn't you realize this earlier? You could have seen him months ago. The only question now was, how exactly do you put yourself in harms way without dying or getting seriously injured.

Acting on impulse you grabbed your jacket and keys and made your way outside. You had an idea. A risky one, nonetheless, but an idea.

You made your way downtown, to an area you knew was dodgy, especially at this time of night. It was notorious for prostitution and gang violence, often appearing in the news when there were gun related deaths. A place you'd never go before, but now you had a guardian angel. You had a sense of confidence you didn't have before.

As you walked you heard catcalls and whistles from the men sat drinking on the side of the street. You ignored them as you strode by, unsure of what the next part of your plan should be. However you didn't have to think for too long because someone was approaching you.

"Hey baby, how much?" A man was leering over you, a sneer on his lips. He had a silver tooth and a menacing looking face tattoo, like a stereotypical bad guy.

"I-I-I'm not a - " You stammered, backing away from him. He noticed and grabbed your forearm, snatching you close to him.

"I know a whore when I see one." He breathed, his disgusting breath tickling your face. You screwed your face up at the sensation, trying to yank your arm back. His grip only tightened.

"You've got the wrong idea!" You shouted, struggling in his grasp. "I'm not."

"So does that mean you're free then?" He smirked. Before you knew it he was pulling you down an alley, his strength overwhelming you. You stumbled along behind him, fighting him the entire way. He seemed to enjoy your suffering.

He stopped under a light on the side of a building, harshly pushing you up against the brick wall, caging you in with the weight of his body. You heard him grunt as he gripped your hips tightly, pressing his hard length against you.

"Stop, please!" You whined, beating your fists against his chest. He had the audacity to laugh in your face.

He ripped open your blouse, buttons flying off and landed somewhere in the distance. The fear started bubbling in your chest and you began to scream. "Shut the fuck up." He hissed, a hand flying to your mouth, pressing his palm against your lips to muffle the sound. With his free hand he fumbled with his zipper on his jeans. You panicked and started to thrash against him but this only made him wedge his knee against you to hold you still.

Your jeans were next to go, shoved down to your knees along with your underwear. You started to panic, eyes wildly searching for any sign of Yoongi. Surely he would know you were in danger and come swooping in any moment now? The alley was deserted aside from you and the creep and some trash cans.

This was really happening. You were an idiot.

The man's hot breath was against your neck as he kneed your legs apart. You felt yourself start to sob, fighting to keep your legs closed. Before he could do the thinkable he was torn away from you, leaving you to collapse in a heap on the ground. Your theory had been right. Yoongi was here.

You watched as Yoongi threw the man on the ground as if he was a rag doll, giving him a harsh kick to the side as a good measure. The man groaned and rolled over but Yoongi wasn't done yet. He stood over him and picked him up by the throat, high enough that his feet dangled off of the ground. The man was choking and spluttering, grasping at the arm Yoongi was using to strangle him.

Yoongi's eyes were dark and thunderous, narrowed in to slits. His strength was terrifying. The man's eyes started to bulge as blood started to pour from his mouth. He was thrown to the ground and Yoongi was left standing there, pieces of the man's throat still clutched in his fist and you realised what had happened. He'd torn the man's throat out with his bare hand. Your mouth hung open in shock.

It was as if he finally remembered you were there, dark eyes turning towards you. He stalked over to you and for a moment you felt pure, unadulterated fear, wondering what was going to happen next. Instead, he offered a hand to you and you scrambled to your feet. His eyes shifted uncomfortably, desperately trying to avoid looking at your naked lower half and you hastily pulled your jeans and underwear back up. However, your top was still broken and you shivered exposed in the cold night air.

"Here." Yoongi was offering you his leather jacket and as he looked at your bare chest you blushed. You slipped it on, zipping it up. "What the fuck are you even doing here?!" He hissed. You finally met his eyes and you could see his jaw was clenched, a vein popping in his neck.

"I was walking." You said quietly.

"In this area? Are you fucking stupid?!"

"I-I didn't realise."

"You are a fucking nightmare." Yoongi gripped you by the elbow and began to drag you out of the alley. You followed almost dutifully behind, scared to speak incase he got angrier.

You didn't get any catcalls this time as you walked with his protective arm over you. He said nothing as you walked and you knew by the route he was taking that you were headed back home.

"I'm sorry!" You eventually squeaked. He gave you a dark look.

"Do you do this crazy shit on purpose?" He muttered. You remained silent.

It wasn't long before he was leading your shaking body into your apartment, closing the door behind you. You realised this was the first time he'd ever been inside your home. You stood awkwardly a few feet apart from each other. His head was low, avoiding looking at you. "Thanks for saving me. Again."

"It's not my choice." He uttered lowly. He looked tense, almost as if he was in pain.

"Still. I appreciate it."

"I've never seen a human who gets themselves into so many dangerous situations. Have you ever thought you might be cursed?" He sneered, running a distressed hand through his hair. He began pacing your living room, almost as if he was frantic.

"Um...are you ok?" You asked tentatively.

He didn't stop pacing. "It's you." He said gesturing to you, still not meeting your eyes. "I can't deal with this."

"No one's forcing you to help me!" You replied. He let out a mocking laugh.

"That's exactly it y/n. Someone is forcing me to help you. I don't have a choice." He stopped pacing to look at you. "You are my punishment, because being around you was the worst thing the council could think of."

"What?" You stammered, bewildered.

"See these?" He rolled up his sleeves, showing you his wrists where there were intricate black, almost lacy tattoos. "And this?" He yanked down the collar of his t-shirt and you saw a similar pattern around his neck. "These are spells. They are shackles, tying me to you. I couldn't escape you even if I tried."

"Spells? What are you talking about? This is a weird joke, Yoongi."

"Do you know what I am, y/n?" He said huskily, licking his lips. You were frightened again. He took a step towards you and you took one back. "I'm a demon."

"No you're not." You utter weakly, not entirely convinced of the words yourself.

"But I am." He took another step forward. "How do you explain half of the stuff you've seen me do then? Hmm?"

"I-I don't know."

He stood an arms length away from you now. "It's torture for me being around you."

"Why?" You whispered, feeling a little guilty and a little let down.

"Because the smell of your blood drives me fucking crazy."

He was mere inches from your face now and you noticed his eyes were a different colour than they were before. Instead of the black orbs you had become familiar with his eyes were a fiery hazel shade, blazing with something you didn't quite recognise. Whatever it was, it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"So you are a vampire now?" You shot back, feigning all the confidence you didn't have in that moment. He chuckled lowly, shaking his head.

"I told you what I am. Demon's have bloodlust too." He gripped the jacket you were wearing - his jacket - and pulled you towards him. "Your scent is going to be all over this now." He murmured.

"Is that a bad thing?" Your voice came out whisper like. It was overwhelming to be this close to him. A demon. Someone you've watched kill twice now. Someone who could kill you in a heartbeat.

"No. It's not."

His head dipped low into the crook of your neck, nose running over the skin. You should have pushed him away but something in you was almost enjoying it. After a few moments his lips brushed your neck and instantly you felt your skin heat up at his touch. He planted a soft kiss  before you felt his tongue lap at your flesh. It was dizzyingly pleasurable. He must have been enjoying it as well because he groaned.

His teeth began to scrape at your skin and you panicked. He was going to bite you. "Yoongi," You said fearfully, trying to push him away. "Stop."

It was almost as if you had burned him because he leapt away from you. His eyes were spaced, almost as if he was drunk, lips plump and swollen. "Sorry. I didn't mean to. I got carried away."

"Is it because of my...my blood?" You asked curiously. He nodded.

"I should go. Are you going to be able to stay out of trouble or do I need to stay and babysit you human?" He asked.

"Stay." The words left your lips before you could think about it. He quirked an eyebrow at you, as if questioning your sincerity. "I feel...safe when you're around."

"You shouldn't."

***

Yoongi lay on your sofa for that night, staring at the ceiling, still trying to process the fact that he was there. He'd agreed to stay for one night, neglecting to tell you the fact that being around you almost made him feel drunk on your scent. It only got worse the longer her spent around you. It was bordering on torturous now.

The sound of your footsteps interrupted his internal turmoil. You padded barefoot on the carpet to the kitchen, passing him as you went. He decided to get up and follow you. He nearly groaned out loud when he saw you were in nothing but an oversized tshirt. "Y/N." He spoke lowly. You gasped and dropped the glass you had been drinking water from. It smashed on the floor.

"Yoongi! You startled me."

He crossed the room using his entire body to push you up against the counter. You stumbled backward and he caged you in with his arms against the granite. "You can't wear stuff life this around me." He growled. His eyes swept your flimsy t-shirt. It was clear you didn't have a bra on. Yoongi wondered if you even had panties on.

"It's just a t-shirt." You said almost breathlessly.

"You don't understand how being around you affects me." He clutched at material of your shirt, balling it in his fist. He could barely contain himself when he heard your breath hitch.

"Yoongi." You whispered. His head dipped down to your neck, nose running over the flesh. You smelled even better than earlier. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer you, instead choosing to lick a long, hot stripe up your neck and to your jaw, giving him a small taste of you. He felt your skin ripple with goosebumps. You were frozen as he kissed your jaw, then your cheeks and then finally capturing your lips with his. To his surprise you let him, kissing him back, even moaning when his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Yoongi's brain was foggy as his tongue slid against yours, wet and dirty.  He pressed himself into you harder, a hand running up your shirt to grip your bare hip, keeping you in place against him. You gasped and pulled away when you felt his erection. It only made him move back to your neck where he started to suck on your skin. It was the only thing holding him back from biting you.

"I want you so bad, it's hurting me y/n." He said, slipping his other hand up your shirt and grinding his hips against you. "You feel that? You feel how hard I am. That's you."

"Can you even have sex?" You blurted, breath short from want.

He smirked. "Yep. And so much more."

He moved, lifting you up and placing you on the counter as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Lips returned to yours as his hands wandered over your breasts, twisting and rolling your nipples in his hands. As if on autopilot he lifted your shirt up and off your body so he could look at you, tossing it to the floor with little regard.

"Are you going to fuck me?" You asked, looking at him coyly.

"I'm going to ruin you." He replied devilishly.

Hands fisted your underwear, tearing them clean off your body as if to drive his point home. The elastic snapped against your skin. Yoongi stroked the outside of your bare pussy, keening when you shivered.

"Please touch me."

His finger slipped into your folds and he moaned out loud feeling how wet you were already. You wanted him too and it made his ego swell. "You've wanted this for a while haven't you? Wanted me to touch you like this?"

"N-no." You stammered.

"Lying is what bad girls do." He stopped stroking you and you whined. "I won't touch you again until you tell the truth."

"Yoongi, please."

His lips returned to your neck as his fingers danced over your thighs, teasing you. "That's why you were naughty tonight right? You wanted to see me. You've been thinking about me a lot huh?"

"Ok fine." You groaned. "I wanted to see you. I wanted you."

"Good girl."

He resumed touching you and enjoyed how you squirmed beneath him but the hardness between his legs was beginning to ache. He unzipped his jeans freeing his cock and pressed the tip of it at your entrance, gripping the back of your thighs. He was still fully clothed and you had a death grip on his t-shirt.

"Wait," You panted, pushing his chest. "Condom."

"I'm not human." He laughed. "You can't get pregnant."

Unable to wait any longer he pushed inside of you swiftly. You wailed at the stretch. He knew he was big and he knew he should have gone a bit slower but he was loosing any and all inhibitions. He started to fuck in to you, rough and controlling. You squeezed your eyes shut as you clung to him.

"Y/N." He whispered, tongue languidly lapping at your neck once more. He couldn't stay away. "I'm going to bite you."

You protested, shaking your head desperately but Yoongi was gone, past the point of no return. His teeth sank into your flesh and you cried out. He knew it would only hurt for second before the endorphins took over. A long, hot, red line dripped down your chest between your breasts. He moaned against your skin as he sucked the blood into his mouth. You tasted even better than he imagined.

Your pussy squeezed around him as you came, it made him light headed. Yoongi had to physically tear himself away from your neck before he did any real damage. He was scared he wouldn't be able to stop if he didn't.

Yoongi came a few thrusts later inside of you.

He pulled away to look at you as he came down from his high, feeling completely and utterly blissed out. You gave him a dreamy look. "Are you ok?" He said, voice low and breath ragged. You nodded. He gently put you down, a stark contrast to how he was fucking you before, his lust fuelled frenzy over.

"I'm going to be sore tomorrow." You said as you hobbled over to your discarded shirt and slipped it on. He readjusted his clothes and made himself decent as well. "Are you still going to stay?"

Yoongi scoffed. "I said I would didn't I?!"

"I'm going to go clean up." You looked at him as if you wanted to say something else but didn't. You left the kitchen and the regret of what he had done immediately began to sink in. He'd had sex with a human.

↪ chapter 02 

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