#it would be great to hear as i could finally draw some scenes from it! :-)

[luveline]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k

cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping. 

I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered. 

You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely. 

When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap. 

You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in. 

It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them. 

Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him. 

You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you. 

Your phone rings a moment later. 

You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too. 

“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“How come?” You sit up with a little start. 

“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.” 

“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man. 

“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing��� “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?” 

“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.” 

“And you want me to fix that?” 

“You always fix my neck.” 

“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that. 

“I have bad posture.” 

“You have perfect posture.” 

“No, it’s quite bad.”

He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.” 

He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.” 

“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.” 

“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.” 

“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.” 

“What did I lose?” 

You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.  

“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.” 

“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.” 

“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.” 

“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says. 

“Or I could make us both some?” 

“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”

You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected. 

Cruel overpass, you think. 

Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek. 

The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later. 

You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back. 

Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—

A sudden chill. 

The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard. 

Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain. 

You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor. 

All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth. 

A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.

Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath. 

He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something. 

Your phone rings on the counter. 

“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.

You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins. 

—

There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.

What will he make of my handiwork?

You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.

The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.” 

“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.” 

“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot. 

“Honey?” a voice asks. 

“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays. 

Honey, are you in here?

—

The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder. 

Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off. 

Jack squirms closer, no room left between them. 

“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says. 

Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead. 

“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.” 

Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.” 

“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.” 

Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile. 

“I look tired,” he says. 

“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it. 

“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.” 

Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile. 

“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.” 

Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.” 

“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?” 

Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.” 

“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.” 

Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea. 

Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you. 

“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?” 

“You said I can give her a hug.” 

“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.” 

“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says. 

Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.” 

Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs. 

“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”

“Yeah.” 

Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room. 

You’re sleeping. 

Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing. 

He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze. 

The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown. 

Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic. 

“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly. 

Jack stays sitting. 

He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt. 

You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown. 

“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says. 

“When can she come home?” 

“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you. 

“Why is she sleeping all day?” 

Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.” 

“Should we go?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.” 

“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.

“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees. 

If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give. 

You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap. 

Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly. 

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession. 

“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face. 

You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms. 

“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open. 

Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again. 

Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk. 

The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”

“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.” 

A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need. 

He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively. 

Aaron lets out a breath. 

“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.” 

“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.

His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some. 

Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone. 

“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.” 

“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.” 

“I know.” 

“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.” 

“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek. 

“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.” 

“Is that what you want? You want a hug?” 

“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder. 

You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper. 

Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down. 

Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying. 

“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently. 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears. 

“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic. 

“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow. 

He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow. 

Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand. 

—

Is she breathing? Can she talk? 

I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from. 

Where’s the worst of the blood? 

It’s everywhere. 

Abdominal? Chest? 

I can’t tell. I can’t tell. 

Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?

Yes. Yes, but– 

Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions. 

Honey, can you hear me? 

Your name said clearly. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

“Yes,” you murmur. 

“If you need a minute, that’s okay.” 

You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass. 

Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface. 

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.” 

There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.

“Okay.” 

Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you. 

You close your eyes. 

“What stuck out?” 

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.” 

“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?” 

“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.” 

Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.” 

“I never got that far.”

“What did you do?” 

“I filled the kettle.” 

“What kettle?” 

You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.” 

“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?” 

“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.” 

“When?” 

“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”

“And then–”

“Then he grabbed me.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says softly. 

You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.” 

“Like he was quick on his feet?” 

“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.” 

“How big did he feel?” 

Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big. 

Where’s the worst of the blood?

“He said he was going to hide,” you remember. 

“He said that? He said ‘hide’?

“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.” 

“When was this?” 

It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers. 

“That was at the end,” you say. 

“After he stabbed you?” 

You wince. “Yes. After.” 

“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.” 

“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.” 

“When Hotch found you?” 

“No, before.”

“Before?” she asks. 

You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move. 

You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?

“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room. 

“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.” 

You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose. 

“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?” 

So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much. 

You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room. 

You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron. 

You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees. 

That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay. 

He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear. 

“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread. 

You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again. 

“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Please don’t let me get hurt again.” 

Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.” 

You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep. 

Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one.  He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you. 

He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water. 

“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.” 

You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you say. 

“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Please.” 

“Did Emily tell you about my interview?” 

He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?” 

“I don’t want to say it again.” 

“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.” 

You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?” 

“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.” 

You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread. 

“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern. 

“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.” 

“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?” 

You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop. 

Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again. 

It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative. 

“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says. 

“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world. 

“…This is my fault.” 

“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep. 

Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.” 

“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly. 

“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.

“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.” 

You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

“I know.” 

“No, I love you.” 

He’s saying sorry.

“I love you,” you mumble back. 

“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?” 

Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.” 

“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.” 

You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound. 

His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both. 

You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours. 

“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says. 

You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek. 

—

Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises. 

“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters. 

“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.” 

The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved. 

I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone. 

It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them. 

I won’t. 

He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will. 

Foyet didn’t need much more than that. 

He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either. 

Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid. 

One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.

Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner. 

Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries. 

He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you

Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this. 

He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again. 

He rubs his brow. 

“You okay?” Emily asks. 

When he looks up, JJ is gone. 

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not.” 

He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says. 

It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day. 

He can’t fail you, too. 

“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks. 

Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?” 

“Being in love.” 

He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.” 

She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.” 

Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks. 

He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger. 

It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says. 

He shakes his head. 

She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.” 

But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety. 

“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.” 

Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.” 

He turns his attention back to the board without another word. 

—

When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest. 

Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him. 

He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks. 

He goes home satisfied.

“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in. 

“Honey?” Aaron calls. 

“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits. 

Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!” 

“Hi, buddy, what are you doing?” 

“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.” 

“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.”

You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.

“You got him?” you ask. 

He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.” 

“How did you find him?” 

He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.” 

You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?” 

“Brave.” 

“I’m a coward.” 

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.” 

All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby. 

Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless. 

“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.” 

“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.” 

“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.” 

“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue. 

“But it keeps happening.” 

His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead. 

“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?” 

“I remember,” he says, practically mouths. 

“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–” 

You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands. 

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says. 

“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?” 

He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.” 

You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.” 

He looks at you in silence. 

“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.” 

He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?” 

Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag. 

You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed. 

But not everything. 

“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head. 

He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly. 

You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered. 

He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Was Jack good?” 

“Jack’s always good.” 

“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?” 

“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.” 

“I can get those.” 

“I know, I knew you would.” 

He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek. 

“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely. 

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip. 

“My present?” 

He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.” 

In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him. 

He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.” 

He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️

[yesihaveaobsession]

Alastor Fears?

Alastor x female reader (others mentioned)

Summary: Alastor fears you, Charlie, and the others are just as surprised when you show up at the hotel and see's Alastor's demeanor changed

A/N- I'm back! Sorry I went away on Memorial Day weekend, and I had writers block but I'm alive!! (This isn't proofread so sorry if it sucks)

Alastor stood his ever-present grin firmly in place. He adjusted his red pinstripe suit, eyes scanning the room with an unsettling blend of amusement and mischief. It was just another day in Hell, or so it seemed.

That's when the front doors to the hotel opened and a hush fell over the lobby of the hotel. Every eye turned to you, but none more sharply than Alastor’s. His grin wavered, eyes widening slightly before narrowing in what could only be described as… fear? The air grew tense as you made your way further in the room.

Charlie, the Princess and proud owner stepped forward and the first to speak, "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can we help you today? "You glanced around, your gaze lingering on Alastor. He stood rooted to the spot, fingers twitching at his sides as if resisting the urge to flee. The sight of the notorious Radio Demon unsettled was enough to draw curious stares from everyone present. You LOVED teasing him.

You thought you would be the one shivering in your boots when he was around but nope. You had the infamous Radio Demon pratically kissing your feet, Oh did it feel good. "I'm here for a room," you replied calmly, though the intensity of your gaze never wavered from Alastor. "I hear this place offers redemption."

Charlie nodded enthusiastically, though her eyes flicked nervously between you and Alastor. "Absolutely! We'd be happy to have you."

Vaggie stepped forward, her expression wary. "Do you have any luggage? "You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Just me."Alastor finally found his voice, though it came out in a strained, static-laced whisper. "And what brings you to our humble establishment, dear guest?" You smirked at the deer demon, and he shifted, Charlie and Vaggie definitely noticed it and a wave of shock plastered over their faces.

Your smile widened, "Let's just say I'm here to keep an eye on things. Make sure no one gets out of line. "The tension was palpable, and even Angel Dust had ceased his antics, watching the scene with keen interest. Husk’s usual grumbling was replaced by a tense silence, his eyes narrowed as he observed Alastor's uncharacteristic unease. Despite Alastor's smile, you and Husk were the only ones who knew how Alastor was feeling in that very moment.

You twitched your body towards him, and he practically jumped right out of his pin stripped suit, the grip on his microphone tightened and you could've sworn you saw little speckles of sweat. You smirked again and stifled a laugh,

Charlie cleared her throat, attempting to regain some semblance of normalcy. "Great! Let me show you to your room." She gestured for you to follow, casting a worried glance at Alastor as she led the way.

"Who is she?" Vaggie asked. Alastor, regaining some of his composure, straightened his tie and forced a brittle smile. "Someone best left undisturbed," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

[jeongin-lvr]

Omg do you think you could make a fic kind of expanding on the virgin hyunjin thought like where hyunjins trying to stiffle his wimpers cause he's all embarrassed and the readers like nope not happening and gives him the best bj of his life so he literally cant control them (low-key dying from embarrassment knowing he can't control them) then the readers notices its accually bothering him she's like you know I love your sounds so let me hear them (really down bad with some hyunjin brain rot. Don't feel pressured to write this or anything but if you are/arnt going to if you could let me know that would be awesome! Thank you have a great day!)

yessss!! I love virgin hyun who’s super whiny and cute >< it’s so sksksjks

Hyunjin couldn’t believe it. He’s in the car of the prettiest girl on campus; he’s sitting in her backseat. He’s feeling the leather of the chairs stick to his sweaty, red hot skin. His vision is blurry but he can so clearly make out the scene before him and, god, it was heavenly. He really can’t believe it.

His glasses slipped to the tip of his nose as his hands turned into fists on his sides; his mouth hanging open as a long whine left his lips, a sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making at that. You peaked up at him from between his long legs, hands cupping the lean muscle of his thighs, nails digging into the skin. The weight of his cock heavy on your tongue and salty in a delicious flavor. You personally couldn’t wait to brag about this; sucking off the prettiest boy at school, finally getting somewhere with someone everyone had doubted. You felt like you’d just scored the winning goal, the ball has landed and it was in correct position.

Hyunjin almost lets out another whine as your throat entrapped his tip, forcing the most embarrassing sounds out of him. To him, they felt like embarrassing pieces of himself but to you it felt like a reward. You’d spent so long, worked so hard to get here. You desperately needed those sounds to remind yourself to keep going. But he was biting his lip, he was stifling those little rewards that you longed for. Hyunjin looked flushed as his teeth dug into his bottom lip, nearly drawing out a spurt of blood that pricked at his tongue. He swallowed a long sigh and peaked back down at you. Your eyes looked so wide, so teary as your cheeks hallowed and your expression shifted. The innocent gaze you lent him felt sinister now, intentionally narrowing your eyes as his sounds muffled. Your fingers pinched the flesh of his thigh, callously giving his dick a harsh suck to rip the moans from his throat. And it very much worked— Hyunjin let out a pretty moan, flushing his cheeks and warping his brain with embarrassment. You pulled your lips off of him, satisfied and not willingly to let those sounds drop away again.

You rested your cheek on his knee, watching as he panted and his glasses fogged alongside the car windows. His lips puffy and cheeks red, incomplete, incomprehensible whines seeping past his lips. Now that they’d started you really thought they’d never stop. “Don’t hide those sounds… I’m working so hard to hear them!! Be a good boy and let me hear how good I’m making you feel!”

Hyunjin shook his head, struggling to close his mouth and hide those sounds. His hopes of seeming calm and collected backfired completely as you swallowed his length again, the warm and wet mouth felt like heaven. Better than anything he’s ever done with his own hands before this. Better than what he thought things like this would feel like. This was foreign yet so utterly perfect in every way. Hyunjin choked out a moan, his eyes brimming with tears as the lenses of his glasses fogged. He could barely make out your outline now, but a part of his was glad. He was sure if he saw you he’d cum too quick— it was already a struggle as his. This had to be the best blowjob of his life, even if it was only the first.

[animeshotsh]

Baby baby~ | Original Sins x Kid!Reader + Stolas x Kid!Reader + Octavia x Kid!Reader |

Summary: Lucifer finally gets his close friends to meet you!! Warnings: no one, just FLUFF.

Lucifer wanted you to meet his closest friends and sins, he had planned this day for so long. He invited Charlie and Vaggie of course, but kept Alastor away.

"Only if i get to take (Y/N) out for the next two days"

And he had accepted, wanting nothing more but to kill the sinner.

~☆~☆~☆

The castle was decorated, Lucifer and the rest of you wearing their best clothes. Food was served, drinks were out (no alcohol allowed) and you guiding Charlie to your room to show her your drawings.

"They are amazing (Y/N) but the rest will soon come-"

Charlie could not end her talk as a very distinct voice claimed from other room.

"Now were its your sweet new kid! Im dying to meet them" The big form of Asmodeus said the three faces looking around for you.

The left one noticed you in the corner by the hand of Charlie.

"Oh!! There they are, (Y/N) come and say Hello to Lust!!" Lucifer called you missing your scared look as you slowly approached the big Sin.

Asmodeus went down on his knee bowing to you "Its a pleassure to meet one of our King's kid, im Asmodeus, you must be (Y/N)"

You nodded looking at his 3 faces and soon smiling at them "You got 3 faces!! And you are so tall, can i get that tall too?"

Asmodeus looked over Lucifer asking for permission, once Lucifer noded Asmodeus took you and let you sit on his shoulder.

"This is great!!" You exclaimed

~☆~☆~☆~

After some more minutes you were left down on the floor when a portal opened, a tall owl dressing in a fashion way appear, behind him a smaller one. Stolas soon saw you and (wanting to show off) opened his book, dark sky appear on the ceiling, different constellations left the sky and went towards you, twirling you around and making you laught.

"Oh Stolas its so good to meet you again my friend!!" Lucifer exclaimed quickly going to shake Stolas hand. "Its has been eones indeed" Stolas agreed looking as you played with the constellation of a horse.

"And Octavia! You have grow so much, I remember when you were so tiny" Lucifer added making Octavia blush and nod at the king who then pointed at Charlie and Vaggie who went to his side. "Im not sure if you remember my daughter, but this is Charlie! and her gilrfriend Vaggie".

Charlie gave a kind smile to the goetia bowing respectfully as well towards her and Stolas "Im so glad to be meeting you again"

Soon you came to them, the horse constellation following you. You stood suprised at the tall owl who got down on his knee as well "And this must be the precious (Y/N), you father never stops talking about you" Stolas said then softly pushed Octavia "This is my daughter Octavia"

You took notice of Octavia being a bit uncomfortable under the attention "Hello! im so happy to meet more friends, i like your clothes! Dad can i get dark clothes too?" you asked to quickly switch the attention to him.

"Of course we can, anything for my small bean" Lucifer beamed.

Octavia gave off a small smile as you smiled at her then went to ask her father about his magic.

"Oh then let me start with the basics..."

~☆~☆~☆~

After what felt like hours of stories of magic a new sound was hear.

"Oh finally, she loves making a big scene" Asmodeus said looking over the flying figure surronded by smoke.

Soon the room was being filled up with music and sweet smell. A pair of hands took you and as the smoke went off you could see what you would describe as a big yellow wolf.

"Awww look at you, you look even sweeter up close!!" Bellzebub said pushing your cheeck against hers smiling. "Lucifer, you must take good care of this one or soon they will end up dating"

"NOT ON MY WATCH" Lucifer exclaimed now having an internal crisis.

Beelzebub soon let herself on the floor with you. "Im Beelzebub, but you kind soul can call me Beel"

"You are beautiful" you could only say in response seeing her hair move around with different colors.

"Aww, and i got all of you a gift"

Soon lots of bottles with orange liquid appear.

"Dont worry this ones" she pointed towards some bottles with what it was supposed to be a demon kid "has no alcohol in it"

~☆~☆~☆~

Quick Extras:

You ended up making Octavia share her music with you and her love for taxidermy.

Mammon did come but only because Lucifer forced him, he ended up liking you as you saw him as "a big huggeable clown" and "you smell like money" you did won him over and he promised to bring you something next time.

Five seconds later tons of money appear alongside a plushie of a famous demon called "Fizzarolli".

Everyone tried to prevent you from drinking too much but you ended with too much sugar and ran for the rest of the night.

Stolas gave you a book of basic magic and told you to call him if you need help with anything.

Beel made you promise that once you get older you would go to one of her parties (how no one knows since you are a sinner but anyway).

[sunny44]

You’re muse

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader

Warnings: English is not my first language and this story is in the third person point if view.

Summary: Everyone who draws has something or someone to be inspired by, and for Y/n that someone is Charles.

The sun shone brightly on the Monza circuit, reflecting off the asphalt and the gleaming metal of the cars. The sound of revving engines and the loud chatter filled the paddock. I was sitting in a quiet corner, lost in my thoughts as I sketched in my notebook. My fingers glided over the paper with skill, bringing to life yet another image of Charles, capturing his focused and determined expression.

I was so absorbed in my work that I didn't notice when my brother, Max, approached me.

"Hey, Y/n, let's go for lunch?" he called, breaking my concentration.

"Oh, sure," I replied quickly, closing my notebook and standing up. In my haste, I didn't realize that the notebook had slipped from my lap and fallen to the ground, along with all the images I took great care to ensure were seen only by my eyes.

As Max and I walked away, Charles, who was passing by, noticed the forgotten notebook. He bent down to pick it up and, upon seeing the name on the cover, raised an eyebrow.

"Y/n Verstappen," he murmured to himself, curious.

It was a leather-bound notebook, large and heavy. Just by looking at it, he could see that the pages at the beginning were well-used, their edges worn differently from those at the end of the notebook.

Intrigued, he opened the notebook and began to leaf through it. Each page revealed drawings of him in different moments—some laughing with the team, others focused before a race, dressed casually in public places they had both been at on the same day, and even some capturing his thoughtful expression during interviews. Charles couldn't help but smile as he realized the care and attention to detail in each illustration. It was as if he were seeing himself through Y/n's eyes.

All the drawings had dates, and the last one did not, but he could tell it was from today because he remembered the moment. Also, because all the other drawings were colored, many of them with vibrant shades of red, and today's drawing was only in pencil.

Holding onto the notebook, he went to find her. It didn't take long to spot her chatting with Max near the food stalls. She laughed at something Max said, and her laughter made Charles smile. God, how he loved hearing that laugh. He could easily say it was one of his favorite sounds.

He then approached with a smile on his face and the notebook in hand.

"Y/n. I believe this is yours," he said, handing the notebook to her.

I immediately turned red, realizing what he had in his hands. Part of me desperately hoped he hadn't opened it, but I doubted that. The temptation to look through someone else's things is strong.

"Oh, thank you," I murmured, trying to hide my embarrassment.

Charles couldn't resist teasing me a little. "I didn't know I was your muse," he said with a mischievous smile.

I felt my face burn with shame and looked away. "I... I just like to draw, that's all," I tried to explain, but my voice faltered.

With a gentle gesture, Charles held my face with both hands, making me look at him.

"I believe you," he said. "But if I knew how to draw, you would be my muse too," he said softly, his gaze locked onto mine.

The world around us seemed to disappear as we stared at each other. I felt my heart race, and before I could think of a response, Charles leaned in and kissed me. The kiss was soft and full of unspoken feelings, a mix of years of bickering and hidden emotions.

When we parted, both of us were breathless and blushing. Max, who had been watching the scene closely, couldn't help but smile. "Finally," he murmured to himself and walked away, leaving them alone.

Charles took my hand, intertwining our fingers.

"I think it's time we stop pretending we hate each other," he said, his voice filled with newfound determination.

I nodded, still a bit dazed. "Yes, I think so," I replied, feeling a new beginning unfolding between us.

As we walked back to the paddock, side by side, with Charles still holding my hand, we both knew that things would never be the same. And for the first time, we were eager to see what the future held.

[headkiss]

I feel like I’m in withdrawal from ur Hotch stories!! I would love some sort of blurb w protective Hotch and BAU reader if ur taking requests for him!! Any scenario I honestly don’t even care I just love hurt/comfort w my guy

babe!!! not withdrawal!!!! thank u so much for requesting <3 i hope u like it | 0.7k fluff, teeny mention of blood

Hotch tries to stay calm on the job. He has to, really, to be as successful as he is. It’s hard with the things he sees, the things he hears. Even harder when you’re about to go and do something dangerous when he’s not there to help.

You’re the only one at the scene right now, and even though he’s trying to convince you not to, you’re about to go inside and catch the guy.

“We aren’t far,” he tells you.

“I know,” there’s a shout in the background, and his heart sinks ‘cause he knows what that means. “I gotta go in.”

Hotch utters your last name, concern, something like desperation buried under his firm tone.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, and then you’re hanging up.

“Garcia,” Hotch knows she’s on the other line, and he knows she’ll find him a shortcut without instruction because she’s great at her job and even better at knowing what people need.

“I’m on it,” she tells him, and then she’s rattling off turns to make through alleys to get to you quicker.

The unknown is the worst part, Hotch thinks. If he was there, at least he could be sure that you’re alright. He doesn’t doubt your skills, not for a second, but when it comes to you, he doesn’t seem to think so rationally. All he feels is the pounding in his chest that won’t slow until he knows you’re okay.

By the time he makes it, there are cop cars outside, flashes of blue and red paint the dark street where everyone’s parked. His tires screech to a stop, and he leaves the car parked and running when he gets out. There’s a cop pushing the guy into the car, another nodding at Hotch as he walks by.

And finally, finally there’s you, sitting in the back of an ambulance with a bandage on your forehead.

He all but runs over, his hands finding your jaw to tilt your face up towards him in a way that certainly isn’t professional but he isn’t really worried about that right now. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t even need stitches,” you tell him.

“You’re bleeding.”

You sort of melt at his worry, at the almost unnoticeable shine in his eyes that you only see because you’re looking so closely. Hotch doesn’t have to say it with words, because it’s written all over him, the delicate hold he has on your jaw, the way his thumb draws a small pattern over your skin. Back and forth, back and forth. He cares about you.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” you say again, because he’s still looking at the bandage on your head with a furrow in his brows.

“You should have waited.” He doesn’t mean it, but he still says it. He knows this is the job, he knows it was the right call, but he should’ve been there.

“You would’ve done the same thing.”

“I know.”

His eyes still won’t meet yours, so you grab one of his wrists in your hand, squeezing it once, twice, three times.

“Aaron,” your voice saying his name is enough, Hotch’s eyes flick down and lock on yours, “I’m okay. No stitches, no concussion, just a little cut, alright?”

His fingers are still on your skin, calluses trailing down your neck until his hands are on your shoulders. There’s a trail of warmth that follows his touch, your eyes fluttering, your breath slowing.

He nods, “you’re okay.” It’s so quiet that he’s saying it to himself, even though you catch it. He repeats it, “you’re okay.”

Neither of you are thinking about the fact that you’re in public, that the team is probably watching you both and sharing looks with each other because they can see the feelings you and Hotch both have for each other clear as day. They are profilers, after all.

Hotch is only focused on you, and you’re focused on him and his hands and the sort of affection that’s rare from him, but speaks enough volumes to last a long, long time.

“I got the guy, didn’t I?” You say, trying to lighten the mood despite the circumstances.

“You did good,” he tells you, and the praise has something soaring in your chest.

You shrug, shoulders moving under his hands. “I learned from the best.”

And when you’re back on the plane, your head resting on Aaron’s shoulder where you’d fallen asleep, he doesn’t care one bit about the smirks he’s getting from the team.

He simply shakes his head at them, fighting a smile as he turns back to his paperwork.

[akirathedramaqueen]

Octavia's and Blitzø's potential relationship development

I believe that the show, despite Octavia openly hating Blitzø, gives us some hints that they have much more in common than it seems. I’ve noticed a couple of moments where Blitzø and Octavia are… pretty much in sync, if that makes sense.

Here are those moments I’ve noticed… maybe stretched in some places, but! Hear me out!

1. Here, they don’t hear each other, but both are repulsed by Stolas’s obnoxious language and express the same reaction. It’s funny that Stolas is the one calling them out.

[Blitzø]: WHAT [Octavia]: THE [Blitzø]: FUCK [Octavia]: DAD?! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 4:52

2. They also share a distaste for Stolas’s behavior throughout the episode, albeit in slightly different ways. In fact, this serves as a great demonstration of how deaf and blind Stolas is to obvious social cues at the beginning of the series—he doesn’t stop even when directly asked to do so on multiple occasions.

Blitzø is disgusted by Stolas’s awkward, overly sexual advances and demeaning language towards him and his work.

[Stolas]: You are so cute when you are serious! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 6:06

Octavia is taken aback by essentially the same. However, she blames both of them, understandably failing to recognize that Blitzø is just as uncomfortable as she is. From her perspective, Blitzø is a homewrecker who contributed to destroying her parents' marriage.

[Stolas]: You know, it's quite thrilling to see you on the job, Blitzy.[Blitzø]: Save it, bitch, I am working. [Octavia]: You both need to get a room. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 8:20

3. They share the hate for the same clown!

[Blitzø and Octavia]: I hate that fucking clown. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 8:50

4. They seem to have similar tastes in music! The song My World Is Burning Down Around Me, which Octavia plays to tune out Stella’s screaming, is also heard in Blitzø’s van when he comes to pick up Loona in the Queen Bee episode, although it’s only instrumental. Here, have a look. If, for some reason, the service with the timeframes isn’t working, I’ll also provide the timings in writing so you can check it yourself on YouTube.

Octavia turns on the song, and for a while, we can hear the lyrics before it fades into the background as the scene shifts to Stella yelling at Stolas and later to Stolas’s conversation with Octavia. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 2:52 - 3:50

The song’s instrumental version can be heard when Blitzø’s van arrives, and the background noise at Queen Bee’s club is different, so there’s no chance for misinterpretation. It is the music Blitzø’s was listening to. S1EP8, Queen Bee, 8:20 - 9:14

5. Haha, they freak out in the same way in the Seeing Stars episode! I know it’s probably just a stylistic choice to transition from Octavia’s initial experience with LA to Blitzø having to contact Stolas and explain what happened. However, I might be indulging in a bit of wishful thinking, suggesting that this similarity in their stress responses could have some deeper meaning.

S2EP2, Seeing Stars, 4:42

So-o... What am I trying to say with all these points I've made?

Like the kind of delulu who yells, "Ghostfuckers, save us!" (we know Viv, we know how trying to put our hopes up ends, haha), I draw a complete unhinged card and I am going to make a very bold claim:

I think that once Stolas and Blitzø finally get their shit and themselves back together, and Octavia realizes there’s much more to the story than, “Oh, it’s just horny dad cheated on my mum with a red lizard dickhead and my dad ruined my family,” Octavia could actually bond with Blitzø quite nicely, and he would make a good second dad to her! Well, don’t get me wrong. She might never want to take it to that level. Also, we don’t know how things will turn out, nor do we know her relationship with her mum, Stella.

But I do believe that their parallels were thrown in for a reason. Despite the circumstances, they can, and maybe will, be on much better terms than they currently are.

Go on, call me delusional and leave me be in my complete denial corner. <3 I admit I do tend to forget the current state of the Stolitz relationship in the series, as in my world, where I’m prioritizing my time working on that fic, they are finally together. I am bitter-sweetly excited that @tealvenetianmask and I are slowly but surely getting close to finishing it. :)

(Yes, yes, it was shameless self-promotion—sue me for the unlawful use of a speculatory-analytical post space to promote our version of Stolitz working hard to sort out their issues post Apology Tour and having some silly and horny fun along the way.)

[xoxoavenger]

Make It Out

pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, bestfriend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: They’re gonna take down Vecna this time. But before they do, Y/N has to chose between going with her best friend Eddie or her boyfriend Steve, and she has to live with the fact that not all of them will make it out alive.

word count: 7956

warnings: follows the events of ST4 finale so major character death and canon typical injuries, gun shot wound, lotsa blood, lotsa angst with some fluff

masterlist

"I'll understand if you want to go with Eddie." Steve said, keeping his gaze on the road in a way that meant he 100% wanted her to stay with him.

"How're your bites?" Y/N asked, casually deflecting the conversation. He had finally been able to put on a shirt and get some shoes, but Y/N knew that there was still a lot of blood underneath. Blood she had wanted to clean, to take care of his wounds, but there just hadn't been time.

Also, Steve hadn't allowed her to even look at them.

"Oh, just great. Ya know, I wanted to lose weight anyway." Steve joked, but Y/N didn't think it was funny that the demobats had literally ate at his flesh.

"We should go to the hospital." She said for the billionth time. She'd been trying to get Steve to go to the hospital ever since they got back.

"Y/N," Steve sighed and didn't finish his sentence, lifting one of his hands off the wheel to rub his forehead. He didn't have time to go to the hospital. Max was going to die, and if Max died then a lot of other people were also going to die and Steve wasn't going to waste precious time sitting in the ER for a couple stitches.

"I'm serious, Steve!" She lowered her voice as Eddie and Dustin looked up, realizing the couple was fighting. "I know you want to be the hero, but for once, can you please look after yourself?" She begged, sadness lacing her words as her throat constricted at all the memories of Steve being beat up. The newest one, the image of Steve being feasted on by bats, made her heart hurt every time she closed her eyes - it was as if the scene were painted onto her eyelids.

"Is that why you won't go with Eddie?" Steve asked, and Y/N let the silence draw out as her answer.

She would never admit that she wanted to go with Steve to stop him from sacrificing himself, but in that moment he knew that's exactly what she was thinking. Robin and Nancy were good friends, but Y/N was the only one who could stop him from giving his life on a whim - which scared him, because Steve, if he was honest, was the hero type. He took the beatings to keep his friends safe. From the moment that he was thrown into this mess, he knew that he would do anything to protect his friends from these creatures that just would not stop.

Unless, of course, Y/N was there with him. That may make him hesitate - or it may make him more reckless. It would throw off his game, make him second guess moves just to keep her extra safe, because if she died and he didn't he would never forgive himself.

However, he knew of one other person who felt the same way about Y/N - just without the romantic part. Steve knew that her idiot best friend, Eddie Munson, would protect her and Dustin, no matter what the 'freak' claimed. And when it came to Y/N, Steve was selfish. He needed her safe.

"You're going with Eddie." Steve repeated, but this time, it wasn't a suggestion or a question. It was final. And although just a minute ago he wanted her to go with him, they had both realized that she would see right through him if he was going to sacrifice himself.

"Uh, no." Y/N scoffed, not realizing she was getting louder. "I will go with whoever I chose." She crossed her arms, fire filling her head. How dare Steve think he could make that choice for her.

"You're going with Eddie or you're babysitting Erica. Those are your two options." Steve said as he pulled over in a field.

"Hey!" Erica yelled from the back, only hearing the last part of their conversation. At this point, everyone was shamelessly listening.

"You are not my keeper, Steve." Y/N was practically seething at this point. She was angry that Steve didn't want her to tag along, especially if it was the end of the world. She stood up, knowing that if she stayed in the van any longer she would probably begin to cry tears of frustration, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"Y/N!" Steve called as she opened the door and walked out, glad that she was able to make it a couple steps before the tears started really falling. They weren't all the way up the hill, so she trudged the rest of the way to sit at the top with her back facing the van. They could leave and she would only be able to turn and watch.

She sat there for awhile, letting her tears flow. Part of her liked this, being alone, but part of her wanted to be with Steve. Chances were, someone is gonna die, and even in the unlikely event no one does, they could still fail and the world could end. She heard footsteps, and she wiped her tears, not knowing who was coming up on her.

"Y/N," At Max's voice, Y/N instantly felt regret creep up her spine. Here she was, crying on a hill, when Max had one foot in the grave. "Can I sit here?" Max stood next to her, and she nodded, watching the younger girl take a seat.

"How're you holding up?" Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

"As good as you can expect when an evil demon is trying to take over your brain and kill you." Max shrugged with a light smile, and Y/N's heart tugged. Max was so young, she didn't deserve this.

"So, great, I'd imagine." Y/N joked, smiling when Max let out a small chuckle.

"Listen, I-I didn't want to say anything in the van, but," Max began picking the grass, not looking at Y/N. "I want you to come with Lucas and I to the house." Max finally looked up, and Y/N's heart completely broke. She looked scared out of her mind, and Y/N swore that if she somehow ever found Vecna herself, he wouldn't be making it much longer than a couple minutes.

"Max," Y/N wanted to reach out, but with Max's arms around her knees it was hard to figure out a good place.

"Steve didn't send me to ask, if that's what you're thinking." Max quickly rushed out, and Y/N gave a sad smile. Steve wouldn't send anyone to talk to her for him, he'd do it himself. "I just, I want someone there, who knows what they're doing." Max looked up at Y/N, who had furrowed brows. Why did Max think Y/N knew what she was doing?

"I'm not sure I follow," Y/N led off, voicing her thoughts.

"Well, you can drive us to the house, which will help. And Lucas is great, and I want him there still. But I need someone else there, someone to comfort me when I come out, someone who will stay calm." Max looked away before taking a deep breath. "And if I don't make it, I want someone there to comfort Lucas - not just his sister."

"Max," This time, Y/N felt dread as well as sadness flood through her. She remembered what it was like to be Max's age - she had a huge crush on Steve, but she obviously couldn't tell her best friend Eddie, who would have never approved at the time. Eddie wouldn't find out about her crush until three years later, when she let it slip that she had made out with Steve at Melissa's party. And even though Eddie didn't approve and he wasn't pleased, he let Y/N and Steve have their fun, ready to pick up the pieces if it ever failed.

There were some nights when Eddie was sure they were over, some nights when he thought about going to Steve's house and smashing a glass over his head to try and make him understand that Y/N wasn't the kind of girl you played with. But nevertheless, Y/N and Steve were still together, her and Eddie were still best friends, and Eddie had never hurt Steve (even if he had thought about it multiple times).

But that was the biggest thing she had to deal with. And now - now the biggest thing should have been college. She should be across the country right now at a nice university. But she couldn't leave Steve and Eddie, especially after they found out what was going on in Hawkins.

"Of course I will be there for you." Y/N scooted closer and put a comforting hand on Max's shoulder. "I will be there for you every time you ask me, whether it's something like this or if it's because you can't find a tampon and you don't want to bike to the store." She smiled when Max grinned, looking up and leaning closer. "Hell, after all this, you can move in with Steve and I." Y/N felt her hurt burst at Max's face.

"Really?" Max asked, half joking and half being serious.

"Yeah, totally." Y/N turned, finally looking at the group. Most of them were behind the van, obscured from view, but Steve was on the edge of everything, arms crossed and body faced so that he could keep an eye on Y/N and Max as well as the rest of the group. Y/N felt her heart float as she looked at the man, letting her hand drop as Max turned.

"What do you think Steve will say?" Max asked, a small smile on her face as she thought about living with the people who had filled in for her in the way her family never had.

"Oh, he'll agree." Y/N nodded, watching Steve turn and look at them even if he couldn't hear them. "We just need to convince him."

~

"I'm a little mad you're not coming with me." Eddie said, all geared up. They were about to leave, just saying their final goodbyes.

"If I went into the Upside Down, how could Steve be the hero?" Y/N joked, trying to take the edge off of their somber goodbye.

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled, looking around as Lucas and Max said their goodbyes. "I guess I'll just have to play the hero. For Dustin, of course." He smiled, and Y/N tried to smile too. It was watery, and tears were quickly spilling out of her eyes, even though she wasn't blinking.

"Please don't try and be a hero, Eddie." Y/N whispered, looking up at her best friend. He sighed as he met her gaze, tears in his eyes that he would never shed. She knew she was being selfish, but she didn't care in that moment. If Eddie or Steve died while she was sitting around, she would never be able to forgive herself.

"Come on, Y/N. I've been running from things since 1966. Do you really think I'm gonna stop now?" He put his arm around her and pulled her into a hug, where she cried into his shoulder. "Besides, someone's gotta keep your boyfriend safe while he's doing the heroic shit." Y/N let out a little laugh, mostly just to make Eddie feel better. Her stomach was torn with sadness and dread, and she wanted to go back to a couple days ago when her, Eddie, and Steve had all gotten high. They weren't worrying about crazy demons then, and she didn't want to worry about crazy demons now. She wanted to go home.

"Promise me you'll come back." Y/N whispered, pulling away from the hug to look at him.

"Of course," Eddie squeezed her once more before looking over at Steve, who was staring at Y/N. "I think you should probably say goodbye to your boyfriend now." Y/N let go of Eddie and turned to see Steve, who gave her a small smile. Just the thought of losing Steve, of having to say goodbye to him, made Y/N cry even harder.

Steve must've seen when she thought about it, about the fact that they were really saying goodbye, and instantly rushed over to her, pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, squeezing his own eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears.

"It's not really a goodbye," He whispered to her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head so that he didn't have to remove her from his arms at all. "I'll see you in a couple hours." He sounded so sure, so calm, that it made Y/N breathe better.

"You better." She muttered out, pulling back only enough to be able to look at him.

"I'll even be able to hear you, in the Upside Down. I'll be keeping an eye out for you." He moved one hand to cup her face, the other staying put around her waist. She moved both of her hands to the sides of his neck, eyes welling with tears once more.

"But who's going to look out for you?" She whispered this part, speaking softly so that Nancy and Robin didn't hear. It's not like she didn't trust them to take care of Steve, but she knew that Steve would sneak himself to be in harms way before either of them even knew he was in danger. And by the time they figured it out, Steve could already be dead.

"I'm going to be fine, sweetheart." Steve was starting to choke up, so his voice was soft and high pitched as he moved the hand on her face to push her hair back. "Do you hear me? I'm going to come back to you." He didn't let her respond, instead kissing her like he would never see her again.

Because maybe it was the last kiss he would have, the last one he would share with her.

"I'm coming back." He whispered as he pulled apart. He knew his face was wet from her tears, because his tears were trapped. He wouldn't let her see him cry.

So, he gave her one more kiss, one last squeeze, one last 'I love you,' and then watched her turn around. She was taking his car to drive Lucas, Erica and Max to the mansion, and as she pulled out Steve wanted to tell her to stop, to go home so that she was safe.

She would never listen anyway.

~

Out of all the bad ideas they'd ever had, this was probably the worst. But, it was the only way to stop Vecna, the only way to save Hawkins - because apparently that fell on them now.

Y/N had heard the car pull up, and she immediately looked out the window. Erica was no longer at the lookout, and she realized quickly that it was Jason Carver's car.

Fuck.

"Lucas, you stay here, okay?" Y/N said, rushing to the door. It was too late, however, because Jason was walking in anyway.

"Jason?" Lucas asked, obviously confused as to why his teammate was stalking him.

"Leave. Right now." Y/N stood in front of Lucas, making it so that if Jason wanted to get past her he would have to physically harm her.

"Well, if it isn't King Steve's little pet." Jason spat out, trying to get into Y/N's head. She simply crossed her arms, still staring at the blonde man. "Or has the freak possessed you now?" That made Y/N pissed. The fact that Eddie was risking his life for a town that would never respect him made her blood boil.

"Jason, I would rather be actually possessed than spend another second in your presence." Y/N tilted her head, taking a deep breath and knowing this wouldn't end well. "So, you can either leave, or you can feel what it's like to be punched by a girl." Her smile was deadly, but as Jason glanced over her shoulder at Max, he had made up his mind.

"I'm not letting you freaks kill someone else." Jason began to move past her, so Y/N swung the best she could at his face, catching him off guard.

Not too off guard, however, because it only took a second for him to recover and pull out a gun.

"Hey!" Lucas yelled as Y/N lifted her hands, backing up. She looked over at Max, who was still in a trance, and then back at Jason, who was unwavering.

"Jason," Y/N muttered, her legs feeling numb from shock. Her heart was pounding.

"Wait, wait, wait," Lucas whispered under his breath before getting louder. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to do this, man." They were now side by side, hands up and keeping an eye on the gun.

"Yeah, I hope you're right." Jason told them.

"Wait," Y/N spoke out of breath, heart racing. She thought about if Steve could hear what was going on, if he was in the house. She hoped he wasn't, that he wouldn't hear if she was shot.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" Jason asked, stepping forward.

"No, no." Lucas shook his head in tandem with Y/N, who was afraid she was going to pass out from stress at this point.

"Turn around." Jason motioned with the gun, and Y/N shut her eyes tightly.

"What?" Lucas muttered, setting Jason off.

"Turn around!" He yelled, and Y/N quickly did as he said, eyes still closed.

"Okay, okay. Relax, relax." It was obvious that Lucas was just as stressed as Y/N was, and he turned around slowly.

"And put down your flashlight." Jason ordered loudly. Y/N did as she was told, tears beginning to fall out of her eyes.

"Steve, I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're here," Y/N started off. She had never been this afraid for her life - of all the things going on in Hawkins, all the messed up supernatural shit, she was going to be killed by a teenager with a gun. "But, if you are, I want you to know I love you." She was whispering, hoping Jason couldn't hear her.

"Stop muttering and empty your pockets!" Jason yelled, and Y/N reached into her empty ones, turning them inside out to show they weren't full. Random shit fell out of Lucas', and when Y/N spared a glance at him she saw he was shaking. "Now, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna back away to the top of the stairs there. Then I'll watch as you wake her up from whatever the hell this is." Jason ordered, and Y/N just shook her head.

"We can't." She said, trying to keep her voice from shaking or breaking. Lucas turned around to face Jason, and Y/N risked the same.

"Jason, if we wake her too soon, we all die." Lucas was speaking as if Jason was a child, but the blonde still wasn't understanding. The gun was still pointed toward them, and they were still without a plan.

"No. If you don't wake her up right now, you die, Sinclair." Jason threatened, his gun solely on Lucas now. Jason pulled the safety off, and Y/N felt her heart leap to her throat.

That's when the stupid idea popped into her head. And boy, was it stupid.

"I'm sorry, Steve." She whispered, just in case he was there. Because if she made it through this, if Steve heard what she was about to do, she would be waking up with his nightmares for awhile.

And then she dove at Jason.

She had crouched down a bit, so his first shot went over her head. However, she wasn't as close as she needed to be, and his second shot skimmed the far side of her left leg. She groaned, but still went to hit him, able to knock the gun out of his hand. Jason took the time to hit her, not holding back. His punch hit right on her cheekbone and temple, and she felt herself already begin to be dizzy. One hit wasn't enough, however, because he hit her again, in the same spot, and that knocked her out cold.

~

When she woke up, there was extreme pain in her leg and Lucas was screaming. She was still pretty out of it, but in a couple seconds she could also see Erica in front of her face.

"Y/N?" Her voice was swimming around her head, as if they were all emerged under water. "Steve is coming, he knows you're hurt." Erica was holding Y/N's head gently, since the left side was a giant bruise. She could feel her eye almost swollen shut, and her skull ached immediately.

"Steve?" Y/N asked, hearing an ambulance in the background. If Steve was on his way, and Erica was in here with them, that meant that it was over. "Did we win?" She asked hopefully. She couldn't see Erica's face very well, but she knew the silence and the small sniffles weren't a good sign.

Suddenly, it made sense that Lucas was crying.

"Shit," Y/N tried to sit up, but it felt like her body was light and her head was heavy. Her wrist was aching, but not as much as her leg. She had to look down to remember that she had been shot, and she couldn't get up. All she could see was the fuzzy outline of Lucas holding Max's body.

"Do you hear that?" Erica muttered, looking around. Y/N tried to focus on staying alert, listening as best she could. She heard the ambulance outside, but nothing else. It didn't take long before she heard the ground split, however - well , felt it at least. She turned to see Lucas moving Max away and watched the ground fall beneath them. She watched as it split Jason in half, and it made her heart race. They had officially lost.

She felt her heart fall all the way to the Upside Down when she realized that Steve and Eddie weren't back.

"We have to go," Y/N grunted as she looked out the opening the wall, watching the crack continue to grow and destroy everything in it's path. She looked down to see the ambulance, broken apart, so it would be of no help to them.

"We can't go!" Lucas yelled, voice breaking. "Max, she's alive!" He begged, and Y/N felt tears come to her eyes.

"Lucas," She started quietly, pausing to wince as pain throbbed once more through her leg. She needed to get pressure on it now, or she wasn't going to make it. "If Max was alive, there wouldn't be a giant tear in the ground." Y/N wanted to curl up in Steve's arms and get high with Eddie and never ever thing about this again.

"She's not! You can feel her pulse!" Lucas argued, and Y/N sighed, eyes closing tightly. It hurt slightly due to the fact that her left eye was already swelling, but it took away from the pain in her leg just a little.

"We need to go, Lucas!" Erica said, and Y/N could hear the pain Erica was trying to hide.

"Erica, you have to help me." Y/N muttered, shedding her long sleeve shirt and leaving her in a camisole. She felt her wet skin, sweat, but she was cold - she knew this was a bad sign. "I need you to tie this as tight as you can around my leg." She fastened the shirt so that the thick part was around her wound. The pain of the fabric bruising against the open wound made her almost pass out, and she fell backwards slightly.

"Why?" Erica asked with a shaky breath, hands going to grab the sleeves of the discarded shirt.

"I can't do it," Y/N whispered as if that would explain everything, leaning back and taking a deep breath. "We don't have anything to gag me with, so I'm gonna scream. But you have to keep going, alright? We have to stop the bleeding." Erica looked scared out of her mind, and Y/N would have felt bad if she wasn't bleeding out.

God, she hoped she wasn't going to bleed out.

~

Meanwhile, Steve was biking as quickly as he could to Eddie's trailer, tears in his eyes. Erica had told him that Max was dead and Y/N had been shot before Jason knocked her out. Their plan didn't work, and now the only thing left to do was hold Y/N while the world ended.

"Steve!" Dustin's voice made Steve's heart drop, because why wasn't the kid in the trailer? What the hell was wrong with him and why didn't he listen? The group pulled off to where Dustin was yelling from, realizing too late why Dustin was on the ground.

"Oh God." Robin said softly behind him. For a moment, Steve wasn't sure what to do. It was obvious that Eddie was dead, that they couldn't help him. Eddie, the guy he thought was a freak in high school but had since become close friends with. His girlfriend's best friend. Dead.

Steve didn't think before he began biking again, feeling tears sting his eyes and his lungs practically collapsing. If he stopped, he was going to throw up, and he needed to get to Y/N, make sure she was okay.

"Steve, what are you doing?" Nancy asked, voice cracking as she dropped her bike. Steve dropped his bike, running up stairs, opening the gate and going into the trailer.

"Steve, we have to go back and help Dustin." Robin said as the girls followed him into trailer. Steve looked at the spot where the sheets used to be; their ticket out of there, gone.

"Where the hell are the sheets?" He asked, looking around. He found half of the sheets thrown on the ground and grabbed them, hoping they'd be long enough.

"Are you listening? We have to go help Dustin." Nancy went to grab his arm, and he just pushed her away.

"Help him what, Nance? We can't do anything for Eddie. My girlfriend is dying on the other side, and I need to help her." Steve's voice was cracking, his throat hurting on the inside and out. He quickly threw the short rope up, and realized it would only stick out a bit on the other side. He would have to jump down and somehow avoid the chair that was also sitting in the landing area.

"Help him bring back Eddie's body." Robin argued as Steve jumped up, beginning to climb.

"How?" Steve grunted as he pulled himself up, trying to ignore the aching throughout his whole body. His shoulders still stung every time he moved his arms, but his adrenaline was high. He had one mission. "How are we gonna get his body out of the Upside Down and then explain to everyone how he died?" Steve flipped over to the other side, trying to avoid the chair. He let out a grunt as he hit it against his knee before moving it out of the way and replacing it with a mattress for the girls.

"Steve! Seriously?" They yelled up to him. Part of Steve knew that they were right, that they shouldn't leave Eddie and Dustin and they had already lost, so there was no need to return to the real world any time soon. However, his rational thought was being taken over by the fact that his girlfriend was dying and if she survived, he would have to tell her that her best friend is dead.

"I have to check on Y/N." He said before taking off.

"Why did he leave?" Dustin cried out as he ran into the trailer.

"Y/N was shot. Erica said she was knocked out, that she got into a fight with Jason and he clocked her after he shot her leg." Robin said, her voice high and tight as she filled Dustin in.

"Shit," Dustin put his hands over his eyes, and the older girls could tell he was crying.

"I know you want to bring Eddie back, but Y/N really needs our help." Nancy said, also feeling torn. She knew that Eddie deserved to be taken out of the Upside Down, but Y/N was alone with Lucas and Erica and neither of them could take her to the hospital.

"We can't let her die too," The way Robin said it made Dustin let out a sob, and the girls felt their hearts break for him.

Nancy and Robin helped Dustin up the rope, then followed him so that they were all together.

"What is he doing?" Nancy asked as they walked out of the trailer, watching Steve run around.

"Steve!" Robin yelled out, going to help her best friend. Steve acted like he didn't hear Robin - maybe he didn't - and continued to look around. "Steve, what are you doing?" Their escape plan had been the bikes leaning against Eddie's trailer, but Steve seemed to be looking around.

"We need a car," His voice was so low that Robin could barely hear him, and she just shook her head.

"We don't have a car." She reminded him gently, but he sighed and finally stopped, looking at her. She realized in the dim light that he was crying, his face red and eyes puffy. "We have the bikes. We need to go try and meet them at the mansion. Then we'll have your car." Robin was trying not to cry, because she had to be strong for her best friend. She was sure as he stared at her that he was going to have a meltdown.

"Yes. The bikes." Steve nodded, going to the bikes where Dustin and Nancy were already picking up theirs.

"We're gonna get there. She's gonna make it." Nancy tried to soothe Steve, but he wasn't listening. He just grabbed his bike and began to go quickly, leaving the rest of them to catch up.

~

"Okay," Erica grabbed the sleeves of Y/N's thing sweater she had taken off, pulling tight as she crossed them to tie it around the older girl's thigh. Y/N let out a whimper, gritting her teeth in pain. Tears were falling down her cheeks as Erica tied the sleeves as tight as she could, and Y/N finally let out a scream, fingers scratching the wood floor as she tried to grab onto something.

"Fuck!" Y/N yelled out, head tossed back and eyes closed in pain.

"I'm so sorry," Erica was crying now too, trying not to pay attention to the fact that Y/N was screaming in pain and Lucas holding Max's body, still crying.

"It's okay," Y/N whimpered as Erica had finally finished. Her leg felt like it was on fire, her thigh under the wound was practically numb. She could feel the blood everywhere, and even if she couldn't the black spots and floaty feeling gave her an idea of how much blood she had lost and how much pain she was in. "We need to go," She finally said, opening her eyes and looking at everyone.

"How? Where are you gonna go?" Lucas asked, and when Y/N turned she realized he was right, Max was breathing even if her eyes were bleeding and her limbs were broken. Holy shit.

"You and Erica are going to carry Max down to Steve's car. Then we'll drive to the hospital." She said it as simply as if she were going to take them to the movies. The only difference was the breaking in her voice from the pain and screams.

"Who's gonna drive us?" Erica asked, confused about how this plan was going to work.

"Luckily," Y/N took a deep breath before getting up on her own, letting out a few whimpers as she did so. She made sure to keep her weight off her leg as she stood, but now that she was up the pain seemed to be radiating all the way up her leg. She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut, fingers clenching so hard that her nails were causing divots. "You don't need two feet to drive," She tried to smile at the kids, because this was traumatizing and she was not going to pass out and potentially die in front of these kids.

And thus, her adrenaline kicked in.

There was no other way to describe it, the way she was able to walk down the stairs and make it all the way to Steve's car, only using the railing and a couple walls for help. She limped heavily, tears falling down her cheeks because even though she was hopped up on her adrenaline, the pain was still almost too much to bear. She was surprised to make it to the car, unlocking the doors quickly to let Lucas and Erica into the back with Max. She lowered herself into the drivers seat as quickly as possible, which was slow. Once she was sitting down, her leg seemed to kick up in pain, and she hit her head against the the seat header, biting her lip to try and keep from screaming. The pain in her face was minuscule compared to the way her entire leg was practically on fire now. The only reason she hadn't given up was that she had to get the kids to safety, and then she would see Eddie and Steve. Hopefully.

"Okay," She muttered to herself, trying to keep her eyes open as wide as she could. She put the car in drive and quickly pulled out and onto the road, trying not to move her affected leg much. She was glad it was her left leg, the one she didn't drive with, because then she wasn't sure what would happen.

"Y/N," Erica was right next to her, and when Y/N jolted she realized that she was falling out of consciousness while driving. Shit.

"I'm not gonna make it to the hospital," She muttered, braking and putting the car back into park. Her head felt so heavy, heavier than it had ever been, and she realized she was swaying as the pain was seeping out. She wasn't sure if her eyelids were closing or if black dots were enveloping her, but she knew she wasn't gonna last long. She had started shivering at some point, even though the heater was on in Steve's car.

Oh God, she was going to die in Steve's car.

"No, please, Y/N, just stay with us." Erica grabbed Y/N's shoulder, shaking when Y/N's eyes slipped close. They opened slowly, her head rolling against the seat and facing Erica.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, because she was. She just wanted to get the kids to safety. She hadn't been able to protect Max like she promised, but she wanted to at least get the younger girl to a hospital, give her a chance. She was just so exhausted, and her body was so heavy, and she had been trying to be alright for too long. She was fading fast, and unless somehow Erica and Lucas could get her to the hospital soon she knew she was a goner.

"They'll be here soon, Y/N, I promise, just, please don't go to sleep." Erica was begging, something she never did, which was how Y/N knew it was bad. She looked down to see her makeshift bandage almost soaked completely with blood, a terrible sign.

"You have to tell Steve I love him," Y/N's voice was weak, and it scared Lucas and Erica.

"Y/N, you have to get us to hospital!" Lucas pleaded, tears still in his eyes. He felt like he had been crying for years at this point, his throat hurting and his chest feeling tight.

"I'm sorry," Y/N whispered, eyes closing again. She was sure she was never going to open them again when Erica yelled out.

"They're here!" And then she put her hand on the horn, letting out a loud honk. Y/N didn't startle as much as open her eyes slightly once more. She was able to make out her friends across the street, running toward her and ditching the bikes they had stolen.

"Steve," Y/N muttered out, a smile on her face. At least she would see Steve before she died.

"Oh, fuck," Steve said as soon as he opened the driver door to see his girlfriend, sweat coating her body and bleeding out in his front seat. She was pale and shivering, and Steve wasn't even sure what to do. She had a large bruise on her face, and he could tell that her left eye would be almost swollen shut even if she was able to open it all the way now.

"Shit," Robin said from behind him, seeing the blood soaked shirt and the state Y/N was in.

"We have to get to the hospital!" Lucas yelled from the backseat, everyone turning to him.

"Okay, princess," Steve said softly as he assessed her. Her wound was on his side, and picking her up was going to cause her pain. He didn't know how else to get her to the very back however. "Robin, open the back. Nance, you'll drive." The girls both nodded, Robin rushing back to open the trunk.

"I got blood on your seat." Y/N muttered as Steve pushed her hair back, sweat making it stick to her forehead.

"I could not give less of a fuck," Steve told her, kissing her burning forehead before taking a deep breath. "This is gonna hurt, babe, alright? But we have to get you into the back." Y/N nodded at his words, not really hearing them anyway. He carefully put his arms around her before picking her up, and she let out a scream as he put more pressure on her wound. Steve felt more tears leave his eyes at the scream, and he quickly got her into the back of his car, letting Nancy take the drivers seat. Dustin sat in the front seat, having not said a word the whole time, and Robin got in the back after Steve. Robin closed the back as Nancy stepped on the gas, clearly sensing the urgency. Steve maneuvered him and Y/N so that she was laying on him, her back to his chest, and he was able to hold her close.

"Steve," Robin muttered, eyes wide even though they were swollen with tears from the whole of the last hour. "She's not awake." She motioned her head toward Y/N, and when Steve leaned around her, he noticed her eyes were completely closed. His heart dropped and he felt sick to his stomach as he tried to shake her awake, watching her chest rise and fall slowly.

"Y/N, please," He whispered to her, a couple tears falling and landing on her skin, dampening it even more. The relief he felt when Y/N grumbled and moved slightly was immeasurable, and he brought her even closer. "Please stay awake. I just need you to keep your eyes open," He begged, heart seizing as she moved a little bit more.

"Steve," She whispered, her head leaning back so she could look at him. "I don't wanna die," She begged, tears falling down her cheeks. Steve felt violently ill at her confession. His eyes were burning with unshed tears and his throat, where he had been choked twice in the past day, was also burning with the weight of keeping himself together.

"You're not going to die," He didn't know how far away they were from the hospital, but he knew they had to be getting close. "I won't let you die." He moved one hand to push her hair back on the side where she wasn't all beat up, kissing her damp skin.

"Where's Eddie?" She muttered, and Steve felt his body go cold.

He couldn't tell her that her best friend was dead, not while she as dying herself. He was afraid that telling her would make her give up, that he wasn't good enough on his own. Eddie and her had been friends for longer than Steve can remember, and if he had a friend like that he wouldn't feel great either. She was barely conscious, and Steve could only hope she wouldn't remember asking.

"We're here!" Nancy yelled as she stopped the car abruptly. Steve thanked every God he knew of that they had made it just in time, and hoped that Max and Y/N would be okay.

"Eddie," Y/N muttered, and that's when Steve knew that she had figured out.

Erica ran around the car to open the back, and Robin jumped out quickly to help Steve with Y/N, who was whimpering and crying out even though she hadn't moved yet.

"Come on, Princess," Steve grabbed her, helping her out of the car. When he pulled her close she screamed out, and that's when the sobbing started. Her cries were loud, so loud that Robin had to run to the bushes and throw up. She couldn't handle the cries and the pain and the fact that it seemed like everyone was falling apart.

Steve held himself together, his sole mission getting Y/N into the building. He held her close, trying to ignore her sobs. She was grabbing his shirt in her hands, and he was struggling to bring her in since she was withering in his grip. He held on tightly, however, trying to ignore the scream she let out as he pressed her wound closer to his body, putting more pressure on it.

"I'm so sorry," He told her, taking deep breaths until he finally got to the front door, where Erica and Dustin were already holding the doors open.

"Help us!" Lucas screamed, and that's when Steve realized he had been holding Max the whole time as well. Steve's arms were aching, but there was no way he was letting go of Y/N until she was in a bed. He looked around, seeing a couple people already coming in from what Vecna had done. Steve wasn't sure what the full extent was, but he knew that the Earth had cracked apart and people were hurt. He just hoped they would be open enough to help her.

"She was shot. She's lost a lot of blood." Steve said as evenly as he could, watching a couple people running around. It wasn't long before two stretchers were being rolled out, one for Max and one for Y/N.

"She doesn't have any allergies that I know of," Steve set Y/N down on the bed, but she was still holding onto his shirt lightly with a shaking hand.

"Do you know what type of blood she has?" A doctor asked, Steve following as the whole crew started moving.

"No, I-I don't know, I can call her house but I-" Steve was rambling and he knew he wasn't helping but he didn't know what to do. He was walking with Y/N, watching her eyes closing as she shook. Her hand was loosening on his shirt, and he felt his heart break as he grabbed her hand instead, shattering as he realized it was cold.

"It's okay. We'll take care of her." With a smile the doctor walked behind doors, doors Steve knew he couldn't go behind. In a daze and without thinking, he squeezed Y/N's hand and kissed her forehead.

"I love you," He finally said, and then she was taken away, and he watched until the doors closed. He watched as her head fell to the side, and he wished she could have said it back.

And then everything went black in his mind.

In reality, Robin was there, leading him to the waiting room. She was talking to him, saying his name, but he was staring straight forward eyes glassy.

Y/N. Max. Eddie.

He was supposed to be the babysitter. He was supposed to keep everyone safe. He wanted to be the hero this time. He didn't want to stay with everyone again, the way he had almost every time something like this has happened. And the one time he didn't stay with the kids, the time he left everyone, people died.

If he had been there, he would have been able to take out Jason. Max would still be alive. Y/N wouldn't have been shot and knocked out.

"Steve," It felt like the world came back all at once, and he turned to see Robin looking at him, eyes wide and tear tracks running down her face. She was gripping his arm, looking at him worriedly. He stood up, and she followed. "Where are you going?" She followed quickly as he began walking away. He couldn't just sit while his girlfriend was fighting for her life.

"Steve!" Dustin yelled, but Steve just walked over to Nancy who was sitting next to Lucas.

"Keys," He held his hand out. He felt empty, as if he were walking in a daze, and he didn't even register why Nancy looked up at him weirdly.

"Why don't you stay here? Wait for news on Max and Y/N." Nancy suggested, concerned. Steve wasn't crying anymore, and his face showed no emotions.

"Give me the keys." He would wrestle them from Nancy if he had to, determination filling his body.

"Where are you gonna go?" Dustin asked. The kid hadn't stopped crying all night, and if Steve were thinking clearly he would have told him to drink some water.

"To kill Jason," Clearly he wasn't thinking in any capacity. The gasps that everyone let out didn't deter him at all. Maybe he wouldn't kill Jason, but he was going to beat the kid to a pulp.

"Jason is dead," Lucas muttered, and for some reason that broke Steve.

"I need to get out of here." He said, walking toward the door, but then he was on the floor and everyone was screaming and he realized that maybe he should have been checked into the hospital awhile ago because the blood on his jacket was not all Y/N's.

"Steve!" He heard Robin scream, but he couldn't move. The pain was consuming him, both mental and physical, and he wanted to yell, to get up and find Y/N but he was glued to the floor.

Steve was sure he was not waking up.

~

He doesn't know how he got up. He doesn't know how he got to where he is now, sitting in a hospital bed. He doesn't remember anything, even as the doctor is telling him that he had a severe panic attack, that the wounds on his torso weren't infected and would heal fine but what animal was it again? Steve just blinked as Robin lied, said it wasn't an animal but a couple of bear traps, that they were being dumbasses and they knew better now and did they have any updates on Y/N?

"She'll be okay. She should be able to walk very soon-" The doctor cut herself off when there was a commotion down the hall. People were yelling, and there was screaming. Familiar screaming.

"Shit," Steve muttered as he sat up, watching Y/N come through the door, teeth gritted. She was favoring her right leg, but she was quick to get in the room. By the time the nurses got to the room, Y/N had already made it to his bed.

"They told me your room number." Y/N smirked as she climbed over Steve, wincing to be able to lay on her right leg on the other side of him. He smirked as he put an arm around her, looking at the outraged faces of the nurses and doctor.

"How did a GSW outsmart and outrun you?" The doctor asked the two nurses.

"She's very sneaky." One of the nurses said, and the three simply walked out, the doctor rolling his eyes and looking like he was seriously considering leaving and never coming back to this hospital.

"We're gonna make it out of here." Steve told her, kissing her forehead. She smiled as she moved slightly to look up at him.

"We already have."

//

tags:  @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya @sadbitchfangirl @gloryekaterina  @oblivion-void @alexshaff2002 @m-rae23 @mads-weasley

[oscconfessions]

TRANSFEM TISSUES PROPAGANDA ATTACK!!!

why do another nonbinary arc when you can do the transfems justice? sure, we already have lightbulb, but lightbulb happened in between seasons and it was never even canonized! wouldn’t it be great to finally make the transfems happy and give the world an actual transfem arc?

tissues is easily one of the contestants i have the most problems with. firstly— the way their sickness is made fun of when it’s genuinely a disability. let’s add more to this walking ableist stereotype and build on that! make them have niche interests— since they’d probably be bedridden a lot, maybe make them a super geeky person! make them like fandoms and spending their time drawing fanart for their favorite shows— make them have super geek freakouts when they learn someone else has heard of their favorite obscure anime!! make them an enjoyer of horror media, or make them an otaku!! make them indulge in media so that they can imagine themselves in a world where no one makes fun of them for their condition!

my next point is to make them have an arc where people realize that there’s more to them! have one of the new contestants reach out despite their illness! make them learn all about who tissues is, make them learn about tissues’ rich inner worlds that they’ve built up to escape the reality of their sickness. make them become really close with tissues and make them share their interests with them as well. make them open up to eachother— i could see this happening with cabby or clover, maybe even tea kettle! …and then have one of the older contestants refer to tissues as “the sick one”, or some other dismissive term that references only their condition. make tissues’ friend angry at that contestant for only seeing tissues for their disability, make them yell at that contestant and let them fucking rant. and make tissues be in the background, hearing all this and realizing that they… really don’t deserve to be treated like that, do they? make them realize that all this time they’ve been trying to escape when in reality, they can stand up and fight. just like their favorite heroes do. just like their friend did for them.

(btw its very important that their friend is a girl i should mention this)

let them get more confident over time, starting with them glaring at people who joke about their condition. then have it escalate into them taking a stand against anyone who says mean shit against them— have them tell people off for being ableist fucks (not words used in the show most likely) and make their friend be proud of it. make them grow closer with their friend over the course of the show, and have a scene where the two are alone. tissues would ask “…what’s it like to be a girl?” their friend would be a bit confused, but would explain it to the best of their ability. “…huh.” their friend asks why they asked “…i know… that some people don’t feel like the gender they were born with… and i always kind of identified with that.” “i was wondering because… because i felt strange about being a man. and i… i feel exactly like what you said.” Have their friend realize that. oh this guy is a girl actually. Have them offer the best advice they can, whether it be analytical or motherly or even a little awkward. and i want tissues to feel inspired to change. i want tissues’ title to change from The Sickness to The Adapter. someone who can change and grow no matter the situation— if only they try.

please consider this

-🥜🪶

.

[lyledebeast]

I think what really makes The Patriot such a great movie for Jason Isaacs in spite of being such a shitty movie for just about everyone else involved just comes down to laziness in the writing. Robert Rodat wrote a protagonist who is allegedly, somehow, a badass Rambo-style war hero and haunted by his past AND a good father, and the filmmakers planned from the beginning to rely on Mel Gibson's charisma to sell him. Roland Emmerich admits they never really considered anyone else for the role. Meanwhile, Tavington on paper is a cardboard cutout Evil English Snob. The original plan was to cast Jude Law, a solid Evil English Snob choice, but when he took too long to officially accept, they offered the part to an actor with little experience in American film who had not played a major antagonist before. And they let him implement some of his own ideas because his character wasn't the one they really cared about.

And he stole their movie!

I would argue that the main reason for this, the reason all the others stem from, is Issacs' idea for Tavington's backstory. Not only does it explain why he is in the Army and so desperate for a British victory, but also, in part, why he has such particular beef with a father.

The backstory itself is certainly more tragic than Martin's. For all the movie's criticism of "gentlemen," growing up in the expectation of a certain kind of life and having that torn away through someone else's irresponsibility would traumatize anyone. While the movie tells us nothing about Tavington's age when his father died or what happened to him in the immediate aftermath, it is abundantly clear that he has not gotten over it. Martin has not gotten over Fort Wilderness, but by every other account we hear it was 1, Martin's accomplishment and 2, an absolute Roman triumph from the British Colonial perspective. It did nothing to hurt Martin's fortune or prospects, quite the opposite. The only drawback for Martin is that when you commit war crimes, it has an unfortunate way of making you feel like you might be a war criminal. Annoying that.

That Tavington has a saber to grind with fathers is also far more consistent than Martin's approach to fathering, as we see in Tavington's first scene. He points his pistol at Martin's children to get the rise out of him that pointing it at him failed to stir. He never speaks to Gabriel or even looks at him upon discovering the dispatches he carried, but when Gabriel calls Martin "father," suddenly Tavington is invested: "Oh, I see. He's your son. Well, perhaps you should have taught him something of loyalty." Every problem Tavington sees in this scene of performed neutrality he lays at Martin's door, even Gabriel's service in the Continental Army. Could it be projection? If there is one outcome that is not Martin's fault, it is Gabriel joining up against his explicit wishes. Meanwhile, Martin's concern for Gabriel shifts from his endangering five of his remaining children's lives to save him to paying so little attention to him immediately after his new wife's murder that he is able to ride for revenge with no inconsequential number of Martin's men behind him. And he is at least as shocked by Gabriel's death as he was by Thomas's.

The first exchange between Tavington and Martin is mostly unchanged from the script to the theatrical release, but the two following it are dramatically different thanks to Isaacs. He argued successfully that not only would Tavington not be afraid of Martin after the prisoner exchange but that he would do well in the final fight between them (a fight that does not exist in the original screenplay). That fight in particular creates problems for the filmmakers' vision of Martin. In the unaltered first scene, Tavington has all of the power, sitting on his horse while Martin is on foot. In the second, Tavington draws his sword to kill Martin while he is unarmed. Both of these are classic dastardly villain moves. In the last exchange, though, it is Martin who has the advantage of having wounded Tavington twice before they get in sword's reach of each other, and Tavington still kicks his ass. On Tavington's side, this is not representative of a one-dimensional villain but of a man who has clawed his way to being a colonel in the British Army after losing everything with his father's death. The only reason Tavington does not kill Martin, either after the punch Martin does not take like a champ or after he has literally beaten Martin to his knees, is that he is still seeking a connection with a father.

The problem with the changes Jason Isaacs brought about is that they make Tavington a badass fighter with a sad backstory, which also happen to be the only aspects of Martin that get any real development. His onscreen violence evokes Fort Wilderness from first to last, but the third aspect of Martin's character, that he is a good father, is told rather than shown. Had changes been made to Martin that corresponded to Isaacs' for Tavington, then he could have had a stronger ending, perhaps saving Gabriel as he failed to save Thomas. But, no. Instead he just gets out-badassed in his own movie and then handed a giftwrapped victory anyway.

[metanarrates]

since youve finished isat, id love to hear if post-act 4 changed your mind on any aspect of the game! (character/overall game rating, theories, opinions on certain things, anything you didnt expect to enjoy as much as you did, etc)

i liked the game post act-4 a lot! the characters really ended up growing on me. i think a lot of my initial dislike of parts of the game came down both to personal taste and the game being perhaps a little clunky in its beginning stages. I'd certainly recommend it now to anyone whose personal taste is a little less averse to certain types of prose and to found family plots than my own taste tends to be. it's got some great stuff in it!

spoilers all below

theorywise I was guessing all through act 5 what siffrin's wish was, and it clicked for me during the mal du pays scene. i was actually a little surprised that the king's wish wasn't one of the wishes that contributed to the loop - I had been thinking that the time loop was likely a result of vaugarde's wish to be saved and the king's wish for eternity almost canceling each other's out, and siffrin's wish to stay with his party creating sort of a paradox state where all three wishes were fulfilled via the loop. id figured that the king getting frozen in the final fight took his wish out of commission which is part of why the loop was able to end. but that doesn't seem to be part of it, which is fine.

the ending scenes were pretty good btw! there were some parts of the end conversations with the party that were a tad cloying for my taste, but I felt like mirabelle saying that they'd hash out being mad at siffrin later smoothed it over enough where I accepted it as an ending. I did end up being touched more than expected than everyone trying to help siffrin. odile stopping them from looping had me straight up cheering in voice chat! and i felt it was the right ending for this story for everyone to stay traveling together :)

I was spoiled on the loop stuff beforehand due to a mutual blogging about the game a bunch (everyone say thank you @entryn17 for getting me into the game and to enthusiastically letting me chat their ear off in dms about it!) but i was still SHOCKED at how great it was. i already loved that freak but now they're an all time fave. person who is Not Normal about their clone getting out while they just get fucked up. also person who says this as they're about to attempt murder <3

I'd been pretty vocal about my dislike for siffrin as a character (not a fan of characters who quip all the time to Hide Their Feelings; i find it gets annoying easily) but now i think they're pretty great. he's got a lot of traits I find unenjoyable, but there's plenty of stuff I love if I look past the stuff that isn't to my taste. absolutely loved everything with them losing their home and their desperate desire to hold onto the people they care about and also their spiral into self destructiveness. i thought the entirety of act 5-6 did excellent things with his character. (the king parallels went CRAZY.) I wouldn't consider siffrin a favorite, but I really do see why someone would.

speaking of unexpected favorites, odile's relationship with siffrin actually ended up being my favorite in the game! I'd already liked her character a ton, but completing the side quest where she finds out that siffrin is a time traveler cemented her as a favorite, and her dynamic with siffrin as one of the most interesting in the game. she cares for him in a far blunter way than anyone else does, and her proclivity for noticing things and not allowing bullshit creates a relationship that draws such interesting character facets out of each of them. they're parallels, they're friends, and they're both travellers who lack roots. it's good!

both bonnie and mirabelle also had great stuff in acts 3-6, though I admit to thinking that both of them could have had the knife twisted a tad harder in act 5. i super love mirabelle, and the last conversation she had with siffrin was by far my favorite in that segment. yes girl open up to people and demand honesty from yourself and those around you! and a lot of bonnies jokes in the last segments made me laugh a lot more than I expected to.

still an isabeau disliker </3 I'm less negative on him than i was, but I just don't like most romance so I didn't enjoy his last scene. sorry isafrin enjoyers. i thought him in protector mode during both the king and Big Siffrin fights was unexpectedly great. he's just not my taste as a character, but I have no real quarrel with him being in the game. I just wish there was more I liked about him.

but overall the game was very good! the music and art in the last bits were especially excellent. i actually apologize a bit for being overly snarky in my first parts of the game - I was having some personal stuff going on, which I think caused me to be a little less open to looking past things that annoyed me than I otherwise would be. now that I've given the game more of a chance I had a blast playing! and i would officially consider myself A Fan now :)

[lil-ace]

Gift for @march-flowerr based on a scene in chapter 20 of lay bare the bones of the earth, (hopefully I managed to do it justice!) :

“Count us down,” Tommy instructs Joel, and then chirrups to Justified and takes off before he’s even started counting. Ellie screeches and digs her heels into Curry’s sides, leans over her saddle as her horse leaps forward. “You asshole!” They race across the plains, the distance closing between them till they’re neck to neck. Tommy’s laughing; he’s taken off his hat and has the brim of it clenched between his teeth, both hands woven tight into the reins as he hunches forward. He catches Ellie’s eye and smirks, and she calls him a fucking cheater and surges ahead. The ground flashes beneath her; ahead, the walls of Jackson grow closer, taller. The lupine tickles the side of her face, whipped into a frenzy by the wind. She feels - powerful, connected: to her horse, to her valley, to her people. Her family. She glances over her shoulder. Tommy waves at her, his hat in his hand. He shouts something she can’t hear, but she grins all the same. She beats them all home.

I want to thank March for everything that 'lay bare the bones of the earth' is, and what a lovely ride it's been to follow along for these past few months. Painting this over the weekend was a really emotional and fulfilling experience for me, and I got a lot to say about it, so I'll put it under the read more cut to not clog up people's dashes lol.

Art school genuinely made me lose passion for art. I got so burnt out creatively that I didn't draw for years after art school. Initially I feared I'd lost all my skills with how long I hadn't drawn anything and that anxiety only made me put off picking up a pen for even longer. But as I was slowly getting back into art, my skills were just fine (albeit a bit rusty) but I came to the realization I'd lost something worse: The burning passion to create. Making art was now boring. It didn't feel fun or meaningful like it used to. All of my art felt hollow, because I felt hollow. I had always used art as a means to express myself creatively, emotionally, and you used to be able to see that in my art. Art school ruined that, it turned art into a mechanical chore, something to be nit-picked apart, critiqued and verbally torn to shreds. It made me look down on everything I made as 'not good enough', look at all the flaws and mistakes. I no longer wanted to share my art with people, because I was so convinced that's all they'd see, too. It's something I'm still working on unlearning now.

A large part of getting back into art has been trying to make it feel fun again, which has been a bit of a struggle. So I figured if I can't feel happy just by making art, maybe if I involve my special interest in it (tlou), the joy I feel from engaging with my special interest would maybe rub off on drawing eventually. So I slowly started drawing tlou fanart, just for myself. While I've been in the fandom since the very beginning, I've never really interacted a ton with other people in the fandom, outside of leaving kudos on fics, maybe a comment if I could work up the courage for it (socially anxious autistic person over here). But one of my close friends finally convinced me to make a tumblr, try posting some art and connect with other tlou fans. I've been slowly dipping my toes in tlou tumblr and it's been a lovely experience so far.💖

Tlou fics have always been a great source of comfort for me, and reading lay bare the bones of the earth was such an emotional journey, one that made me cry multiple times (happy tears & sad tears!). But reading chapter 20 was something else. I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's been living rent free in my head ever since. March's words painted such a beautiful picture. I just got this image stuck in my mind, of Tommy & Ellie racing through the lupine fields as the sun is setting behind them and I had this burning urge to paint it, a feeling I haven't had in years! Figuring out the composition, picking all the colors, trying to get Curry's Appaloosa spots right, it made me feel all giddy as I could see each step bringing it closer to completion. I feel like I finally got a little taste of the joy I had for art all those years ago. And I wouldn't have gotten to experience that had I not gotten to read lay bare the bones of the earth. I can't thank you enough for that March 🥺 You've created such a wonderful story, the way you portray emotions is so raw, your writing reminds me of a rainy summer's day in the best way. You are such an inspiration and I can't wait to see what you do next!

[vickyvicarious]

I am super busy this week so didn't really have time to make any posts yesterday, but I still wanted to share a few reactions. First, just general/voice acting notes:

Jonathan's relief and reassurance in the sunlight was so heartwarming. Very sad as well - I can't help but dwell on how he has been forced into a largely nocturnal lifestyle - but overall, it just makes me happy anytime he is able to feel comforted by something (which doesn't immediately come back to bite him).

"Yes... there is a way," gave me ACTUAL CHILLS. I can hear so clearly the stakes at hand (life and death and more). Jonathan sounds cunning, resigned, he's flipping the script and it's creepy and it's very brave and it's very very cool!

His goodbyes....! I am sure everyone is saying it, but him starting and ending his farewells with Mina does brutal things to my heart. He loves her so much, so much. And the lighter music for just that bit, and the way he chokes up a little, I just -

"I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes away from it." That's so weirdly cute. Jonathan is very deliberately avoiding the classic 'don't look down (slips, looks down, freaks out)' moment by taking one intentional look and then just going, okay, that's done, moving on. It's a weird but seemingly effective way to handle it and kind of incredibly lovable.

"It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have never been used;" - okay, but what were the 'odd things'? Is that just referring to the gold? Because the furniture he says is like other rooms so that doesn't feel odd, unless maybe it isn't typical bedroom furniture and that in itself was the oddity? ...maybe he has a weird statement piece couch or something?

The way Jonathan lingers when describing how Dracula's "lips were as red as ever." So creepy, so fascinated, feeling that same kind of draw that was in the vampire ladies scene. Love the voice acting so much.

Dracula sleeping with his eyes open is so so so creepy. God.

Second: gushing over Jonathan section

"I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me." - Jonathan is so brave. He is so scared, he is terrified... but he doesn't want to be ruled by his fear anymore. Ever since the encounter on May 16, he's been having more and more difficulty acting. He stopped exploring, gave up manipulating Dracula, and only waited for an opportunity to seek help when others came. And to an extent, that was all he could do, and being quiet and playing along is what's kept him alive until now, but last night he had to watch a grieving mother blame him for the death of her child right after he had to listen to her child dying and right before he heard her die (and all this after nearly being hypnotized again), and he wasn't able to do anything at all. He tried, he would have entirely given up on protecting himself for the sake of that child, but the locked door stopped him. And Jonathan is so determined today to take advantage of the rare sense of energy the sunlight has given him, he wants to get out of here and is willing to go to extreme measures to do so. He shoves away his gloomy fearful thoughts when they begin to resurface, and acts.

The way he acts, though. Sure, it's a wildly risky move - but I love how his brain works. Even now he reasons it out. Dracula bothers me at night -> maybe he sleeps during the day -> I can search for the key while he sleeps. Every time an objection would normally stop him he just refuses to accept it and thinks of some way past it. The door is locked -> well, the windows aren't. Even in his reckless state, willing to risk death, he still thinks things out.

(How good must it feel to be able to finally do something. But still he doesn't let himself get too carried away, tries to stay alert and on task.)

Case in point: in the room, he takes his time to look at all the coins. He looks at the dates on them too; great attention to detail. He is primarily searching for a key but whenever he sees a possible significant item or clue he devotes proper attention to it. So diligent.

Same thing in the chapel! "Then I went over every inch of the ground, so as not to lose a chance." Jonathan is always so thorough, I love it. He would have searched all the vaults despite his fear if it weren't for stumbling across Dracula. As it was, he was still pretty darn thorough! He even counted every single box Dracula'd had delivered - fifty in all.

And even after his super creepy encounter with the Count... when Jonathan goes back to his room he first "tried to think." Tried to think! Sure, to an extent that may be code for 'tried to stave off a panic attack' but even then it still speaks to his priorities and goals. Yes, that was extremely traumatic and he is terrified and has just completed his second death-defying freestyle wall climb of the day, but Jonathan has clues now and so he's gonna try to think! He's gonna focus on details! Literally, since he starts his entry with: "I must put down every detail in order." It's just what he does, but for the first time in a long time he has new data to work with.

But not long left to do so.

[romanarose]

His Comforting Touch

Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are on your period. This is the kind of thing Steven usually handles, but Marc was to prove to himself he can take care of you, be there for more than just great sex. Of course, he is really good at sex, and that might be what you need this time.

Warnings: Period stuff, lots of blood, *suffering*, all of this on period; fingering, oral, anal fingering (maybe I have an anal fixation idk what to tell you I love butt stuff), coming in pants (my fav)

A/N: just started my period. Was at work, used the bathroom, caught the literal first few drops before it even touched my underwear. that was the good news. The bad news was I didn't have anything other than one (1) tampon and was already having a bad day. Other good news is what I love about people who get periods is they will give anyone a tampon if they can. I made it.

A/N 2: This is from a chapter from my series Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside. I wanted to edit this chapter down to make it just a one shot. If you find the dynamics interesting, maybe check out the series but oh my god heed the warnings. Darker stuff. Anyway, if you are currently reading or plan to read Sunshine, don't skip over this chapter when you come to it. There is a LOT I edited out to make sense in a one shot. The actual chapter has a whole other smut scene in the bathtub and a very important argument. Also, the series has an OC, not a reader, so I changed all the names and pronouns to second person, so if I missed a "her" or a "Sam", just ignore that lol. Enjoy!

********************

My Love <3: I’m hemorrhaging

Marc about spit out his coffee. Logically, he knew that if you were actually hemorrhaging, you wouldn’t be texting him. It didn’t help the panic.

Steven with a V: ?!?!?!?!-M

My Love <3: Hi Marcy Marc! Hope I didn’t scare you.

Steven with a V: Why are you hemorrhaging?-M

You were used to texting Steven. Steven knew what ‘I’m hemorrhaging’ meant. As much as you loved Marc, and as much as the two of you have done some of the most filthy, disgusting things two humans in love can do to each other, somehow you couldn’t manage to be straightforward with Marc that you were on your period. You knew it wasn’t fair to put stereotypes on him, but Marc was Marc. He shoots guns and gets in fights, and was a marine… Steven bought you tampons and pads just to keep at his place in case of emergency, you hadn’t even asked for that. You had expected Steven to answer.

Steven with a V: OH! I see. Sorry, Steven’s resting for the evening.-M

Steven with a V: Are you okay?-M

You didn’t realize how much she’d been just… thinking

My Love <3: Sorry,  got distracted. And don’t be sorry Steven’s out, I’m always happy to hear from you, Starlight.

Steven with a V: Do you need anything? I can get you some snacks or bring you Motrin?

My Love <3: No I’m good, thank you baby. I just wanted to complain.

Marc knew this was better as Steven’s department. Everything was Steven’s department. Steven cooked for you, took you on romantic, thoughtful dates. Steven knew what words to say and when to say none. When to hold you and when to fuck you. Marc really had thought maybe, just maybe, that would be his department. But Steven was good at that too. Steven didn’t need to do what Marc did to get you to cum multiple times a night, he could draw orgasm after orgasm from you with his mouth. Marc wasn’t sure if he remembered how to have sex without the slapping and the choking. He’d never say it, but the night you finally got together, he was terrified from multiple angles. The sex and the domesticity. The fact he said he loved you, that you said you wanted to be with him. It was against all his instincts to do this, to be domestic. That, again, Steven’s department. It had not gone well with Layla.

My Love <3: Did you have a good day honey?

You were changing the subject because you knew he was uncomfortable.You knew he couldn’t be what you needed. He needed to change something. He didn’t want to ruin what he had with you like he had with Layla. Marc briefly thought he should talk to Steven about this, Steven would be gung-ho for a heart to heart. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t drag Steven into his shit. Again. No, he knew what he had to do. He could make a start with you.

Steven with a V: Can I come over in a bit?-M

My Love <3: I would love that!

What would Steven do, what would Steven do

What would I do for what? He mumbled in the headspace, waking up. 

Go back to bed, I got it.

Come on mate, let me help. What’s going on

She’s on her period, I want to help but really, I want to do this myself… I gotta prove it to myself that I can. 

Okay, but wake me up if you need me

Will do, buddy

And Marc?

Yeah?

I think you’re really sweet

Shut up.

Marc walked around the store. Okay, what do girls like? Chocolate? Yeah, girls like chocolate on their period. Is that a stereotype? Layla never let him do much besides cook and clean when she was out of commission. Maybe he could do that. You always complained how messy your place was. Marc didn’t think it was actually dirty, just disorganized. You just had so much stuff. You liked memories. Yeah, he could help organize. He could also cook, not well but he could do it. You cooked Steven breakfast, Steven cooked you dinner. Marc looks at his watch. Okay, it’s 4. Plenty of time to get things and cook.

Marc got groceries for matzo ball soup, that used to make him feel better when he was a kid. Even after his mom stopped making Shabbat dinner, or any food in general, his dad was too busy to make anything most days. Marc was left to fend for himself. TV dinners, Kraft Mac and Cheese, chef boyardee… But one thing he could count on is if he was sick, his dad got him Matzo ball soup from the deli. If there was a game on (which there usually would be in Chicago) his dad would actually leave the office in their attic and come watch with him. Sometimes, if there was an important game on, Marc would pretend to be sick just to get his dad to watch with him. 

Marc picked up some chocolate cake. Just in case.

He knocked, but there was no answer, so Marc let himself in with their spare key. He took a look around your little studio. You were dead asleep. He set down the groceries and put them away, washed the dishes and cleared away the trash. He took out the trash and the pizza boxes on the floor, making sure to change the bathroom trash as well. You stayed asleep. He frowned, you must really be out of it. He continued picking up the living room throwing away your twisted tea cans and the take out by your bedside that must’ve been lunch. Marc began cooking, when he dropped the pot and you still didn't wake he got worried. He set the almost-finished project on the stove to heat and went over to your bedside, couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not, and started to panic. There was no logical reason to think you were anything other than in a deep sleep, but he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.

“Hey honey, you okay?” He attempted to stir you with shaky hands.

You eyes shot open with a gasp, and before either of them had a chance to think or move, you shouted.

“Marc!” You gasped for breath, sitting up and grasping your chest. “Oh my god, Marc, shit you scared me!”

“I’m sorry!” All he wanted to do was treat you special, and he managed to scare the fuck out of you.

“No, it’s okay, baby” You took a few beats before looking down. “Fuck.”

Marc followed your line of sight, there was blood leaking on the front of your light blue leggings. “I’ll get you clean pants, baby.” Marc scrambled up, walking to your dresser while you went to the bathroom. “Sweats or leggings, honey?”

“Sweats please, and new underwear. The ugly ones in the back.” You called out. Marc brought it over, knocking on the door. 

You only opened the door enough to grab the clothing, but left the door cracked so you could keep talking. “This is the second pair of pants today. I got it at work, it was early. My friend had a spare change of clothes.” You peaked your head out, grinning. “Always gotta have spare clothes in childcare, but my last spare got puke on them on monday.” You tucked back away, digging for items below the sink. “It’s fucking heavy this time, shit fucking hurts. Elena stayed late so I could come home, my stomach hurt so bad.” You were rambling. “I feel like I’m bleeding out, tampons- fuck sorry, this is probably TMI”

Marc made himself comfortable on the floor sitting against the wall. “Honey, not to be too graphic but I’ve seen blood in plenty of other circumstances, and I’ve been married” Marc winced at mentioning Layla, this is why Steven was better at this. You knew, of course, that he had been married, but you never talked about it. Occasionally, Layla would call and Steven or Marc would talk to her, but it wasn’t often. He soldiered on. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Right, right” You sounded like you were convincing yourself. “Well, the tampons seem to bleed out every half hour or an hour. I didn’t think there was this much blood in a person.” The unmistakable sound of a pad opening.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Although this wasn’t his first rodeo, he still wasn’t sure how much was normal.

“Not unless it continues for a few days. This is probably just a heavy flow.” 

Marc couldn’t help but worry, it was who he was as a person. There was the sound of thorough hand washing, then you opened the door, smiling lovingly at the sight of him looking at you wide-eyed from the floor. “I made you soup.”

You ate a hearty portion, showering Marc with “MMHHHMM” and “Oh my GOD baby this is fucking good.” The sounds were barely distinguishable from the sounds you made during sex, maybe just a little more dramatic. 

“Fuck, Marc, that was so good. Good soup” she mimicked the tik tok audio. Marc noticed you wincing and holding your stomach. He pulled you over his lap and rubbed your tummy for you. After an episode, you got up to change your tampon again, and Marc heard her groaning from the bathroom. “Brightside? You okay?” 

“Yeah, I opted for just the giant pad, Im sick of the fucking tampon.” You  replied through gritted teeth. When you came out, you took more pain medicine and crawled back up into Marc’s arms. “This shit ain’t helping, I need fucking morphine. AH!” a burst of pain shot through you. You whimpered, hiding your face in his chest. “Starlight, it hurts.” You whined, knowing damn well he couldn’t do anything about it.

Marc considered for a moment. “Listen, I have an idea… It might help your cramps.” You looked at him suspiciously. “Ever had an orgasm during your period?”

You sat up, sickened but intrigued. “You want to have sex with me when I’m oozzing blood?”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be sex, it would just be me, giving you an orgasm.” You were… tearing up? “Or not! Whatever you need, Brightside…”

Your lip quivered, “You want to touch me when I’m this gross?” Youstarted crying, oh shit.

“Oh baby” Marc took you in for a hug. “You aren’t gross, and I always want to touch you” He held you close, cradling your head with his hand entangled in your hair. You mumbled something he couldn’t hear. “What was that sweetie?”

You lifted your head up, still crying a little “I’m so fucking horny.”

Marc couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “Stay here.” Marc stood up, still grinning to himself, and laid down a towel on your bed, then scooped you up from the couch. You felt his strong arms and his chest, flexing to carry you. He laid you down, took off your sweats, and leaned in to kiss you lovingly. 

He walked around to the end of your bed, carefully pulling down her underwear and bloody pad and setting it carefully with your sweatpants “Tell me if anything hurts. You’re probably going to be sensitive, but it shouldn’t be painful.” He slowly started working on your clit, attempting to relax her before anything else.

“Marc, I can clean up-” You start, feeling embarrassed about the blood on your legs and vulva.

“Aht!” He chastised. “Relax. Again, this ain't my first rodeo.” He fought his biological reaction to get hard.

Slowly, he inserted a single finger in you, working it in and out while your swollen and sensitive pussy adjusted to him. “Ready for another?” He was fully hard, despite his best efforts, and tried adjusting his pants but the friction only made the problem worse.

You nodded, gasping as he filled you, curling his fingers up to hit that sweet spot deep inside. Marc was knelt in front of her, sitting upright, watching his fingers disappear inside you, coming out covered in your blood. “Such a good girl…” He muttered lowly, the mix of blood and slick swirling on his hand. He could feel your walls tightening around him, but he knew you’d need extra help to get over the edge. For now, however, he was taking it slow, giving you time, building you up. He laid down next to you, resting on one arm that played with your hair and stroking your pretty face, while his right hand fucked you. Marc peppered you with open mouth kisses, your tongues dancing together, your mouth chasing him when he pulled away to kiss down your neck, licking up your chin and back to her mouth again. You played with his dark, thick curls, kissing that sensitive spot under his jaw. He took deep breaths, trying to cool himself off. He didn’t want you to feel obligated to touch him, but Christ, he was aching for you. You laid like this for what seemed like forever, touching and kissing so innocently, but his fingers were inside you. When he pulled away, you pouted. 

He kissed over your clothes until he got to your pelvis. 

“Marc-” You hesitate, embarrassed by the idea of Marc’s mouth on your bloody cunt.

“Don’t even start, pretty girl” Without giving you another chance to be embarrassed, he began sucking on your clit. Marc couldn’t help it, he began moving against the bed to stimulate his cock.

“Oh fuck, that’s good…” You tugged on his hair, pulling him closer. He  takes his fingers out, painting part of your thigh as he grips you, his mouth going further down. When you sat up to watch him devouring you, he looked up at you, grinning, lip curling up the way it did only when he was really, truly happy. You knew you shouldn’t be so thrilled to see him covered in blood… but you were.

“Whatcha think’n, Brightside?” 

Her heart flutters and you swallow. “Um… that you look really good like that…” You look at him, awestruck as he went back to finger fucking you, but never broke eye contact.

“You like when I’m covered in you, baby?”

You nod.

“Or, do I just remind you of Edward Cullen right now?” He teased.

Your jaw dropped, but a small smile crept up on your lips, even while panting under his touch. “I can explain!”

He gave your messy cunt a kiss, still smiling at you. “It’s okay, baby, I can work past that” He winks, going back to work, before stopping and popping up again, with a mischievous grin. You felt his slicked up fingers slip between you and the towel on the mattress, making you shiver as he grazed over your hole. “Can I have your ass? It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I thought it might help…” Marc gave you a look he hoped communicated that it was completely up to you.

You considered for a moment, but nodded, smiling. “I trust you, baby.”

He kept working your clit as he grinned back, lip curling up again and showing off his adorable teeth, white in the sea of red on his mouth. “Yeah?” He whispered softly, the words magic to him. He promised you safety, and you gifted him you trust. He stopped fighting it, Marc began humping against the bed. The whole scene was so perfect, he couldn’t deny himself anymore. It was messy, it was filthy and it went against what most people might consider normal, but right here, right now? The room was filled with nothing but love, sexuality, trust, caring. How could something like this be dirty? How could this ever be wrong? “You trust me?”

Your hips bucked up, riding the waves of pleasure he gave you. “Inexplicitly, Starlight.”

Marc wanted to kiss you, but that might be a bit of a line she wasn’t prepared for. His mouth went to your clit, left hand began fingering you. Slowly, carefully, he slides a finger up in your ass. “Relax honey.” he coaxes, and you do just that.

You suddenly felt so full, the new sensation sending shivers up your spine. “Fuuuuuck Marc” You threw her head and arched your back.

He smiled as he continued licking and sucking “You like that baby?” Marc rutted into the bed, fuck, he could come just like this. He just might.

All you could do was whimper and nod.

“You like when I touch you like this? You like when I’m in multiple holes?” He fucked his fingers into you, as far as he could reach.

It became apparent that Marc was working himself against the bed, and the idea that he was turned on just from giving her pleasure? That just brought her closer. “Fuck, Marc, mmm fu-ah!, no ones ever touched me like this” 

Marc had assumed as much, he knew that before Steven, most of the men essentially used your body to masterbate. But this was for you, to help you. And you really liked it. He knew you were close, but getting there wasn’t the issue. It was the spilling over, the climax. You were writhing, yanking at the sheets that had been pulled off the corner of the bed. The towel beneath her had bunched up, barely doing it’s job anymore but Marc wasn’t going to stop, not when you were so close.

Marc sat up on his knees, trying his best to keep some sort of friction in his pants. He continued working you with his left hand; two fingers in you vagina, his pinky in her ass. You were perfect, enwrapped in pleasure before him. Drawing back his hand, he spat on your pretty little cunt and gave it a slap.

And there it was.

“Marc!” You shout, the last words you said before you became incomprehensible, a babbling mess. You tried to say something, but what? You  didn’t know. You felt the tension in her uterus ease as you came down from you high and noticed Marc coming back from the bathroom, kneeling at you side. 

“Hey Brightside, how you feeling?” He brushed you hair back from your sweaty face.

“M-much better. Kiss me?” She looked angelic.

How could he refuse? He kissed you, and you realize his face was washed of your blood. You wouldn’t have cared. “I drew you a hot bath, does that sound good?” 

You nodded, beaming softly at him “Join me?”

He kissed your forehead “If you’ll have me.” Marc spoke as softly as you thought he ever could.

“Forever and always, baby”

He gently held her throat as he kissed her. “Let me get cleaned up first.”

You frowned at him, confused. That was the point of the bath. He was about to bathe in water that would have your blood and cum- oh. Pushing him back, you look at his pants, there was a wet spot in his dark jeans. When you looked up at him, it was your turn to sport his signature shit-eating grin. “Fuck Marc, that’s hot.”

“Come on, baby” He smiled softly at you as he took her hand and led you to the bathroom, the tub steaming and full of Epsom salt in the boiling water. Just how you liked it. He’d have carried you if his legs didn’t feel so shaky from his orgasm. “Let’s get you properly naked.”

************************

I hope you liked it! Tagging a few people I know haven't read sunshine/ this chapter (literally no pressure to read it I know it's long as fuck)

@jake-g-lockley @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @in-between-the-cafes @welcometostayingawake @lucianadraven32

[aristocratic-otter]

Howdy all!

I've not posted in forever, but I want you to know I am writing. I've just hit a wall with Saving Simon Snow and The Heart in the Well, so I'm rereading those to figure out where I'm going. But I've made significant progress on my other three, just not enough to post a chapter. I think a chapter of Snow Fox will be up in a week. I don't want too many WIPs on the archive, so I'll wait till one is finished to start posting Stars, Flowers and Children, which I've already got ten chapters done on.

Thank you to these folks for continuing to tag me even when I go silent: @larkral, @blackberrysummerblog, @bookish-bogwitch, @nausikaaa, @artsyunderstudy, @nightimedreamersghost, @prettygoododds, @rimeswithpurple, @ic3-que3n, @j-nipper-95 and @shrekgogurt

From: Stars, Flowers, and Children:

One moment Simon’s staring, open-mouthed at Davy’s corpse, and the next he’s folded himself into my chest, sobbing. “I killed him,” he whispers, between sobs. “Baz…I killed him.”

I want to argue with Simon, tell him that he couldn’t have known his shove would kill the man, that Davy’s own drunkenness made him so clumsy he couldn’t break his own fall, that Davy’s madness forced Simon to take action…but none of those things will help. So I just wrap my arms around him and hold him to me and let him cry. 

I want to tell him it’s alright. But it’s not. 

We’re thirteen years old, and we’re all alone in the world. 

From: Snow Fox

“I wish I were there with you. I wish I could be more help,” he frets. 

“You’re where I need you,” I remind him. “You’re of invaluable assistance to our effort. Baz, nobody can do what you do for the rebellion.”  I reach up and cup his face between my two palms. “And,” I whisper, “knowing you are here, safe? It’s the only thing that keeps me going, some days, darling.”

Baz’s eyes soften. Then I can’t see his eyes anymore because his lips are on mine and my own eyes have slammed shut. He kisses me fiercely, hungrily. Then he pulls away abruptly. “I’ll stay safe for you, for as long as I can,” he whispers.

“I know,” I whisper. “And I’ll do the same for you.”

And a longish sample from Tiktok dancer--Baz is finally in the story!

“We’re young, we’re hot, and we’re freeeeeee!” Dev shouts, and then follows his boast up with a raucous wolf howl. 

“You’re making a scene!” I hiss at him. 

Dev flips me off, before skipping ahead of Niall and I to the baggage carousel. I refuse to look around to see if Dev’s behavior is drawing attention. Of course it is; he lives to embarrass me. 

Niall laughs at my expression and then throws an arm over my shoulders. “C’mon, Baz. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you can cool your blushes.” 

I scowl at him. “I’m not blushing,” I lie. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, but hopefully my skin is too dark for him to tell. 

He releases me with a pat on the shoulder and a laugh. “Dev’s just having fun. And he’s right, you know. This is our hot singles tour, and we get to do it in hot people paradise. Isn’t that great?”

“I thought Hawaii was paradise,” I snark. 

Niall rolls his eyes. “Your virginity is showing, Baz. C’mon, California? The home of the hottest girls on the planet?”  

Now I roll my eyes. “And I should care about that, why?” We’ve reached the baggage carousel now. Dev has pulled all of our suitcases off of the conveyer and is waiting impatiently for us. He was close enough, apparently to hear the last part of our conversation. He snickers. 

“You care because you want your best friends in the world to get laid by the hottest women. You’re just nice that way.” 

“Besides,” Niall grunts, as he hefts our suitcases onto a baggage cart. “I’m sure the guys are just as hot. You’ll find someone to fuck, Baz. Probably several someones.” 

Tagging (and blowing y'all a big kiss for the New Year): @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @erzbethluna, @fatalfangirl&lt; @facewithoutheart, @hushed-chorus, @letraspal, @frjsti, @messofthejess, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @tea-brigade, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[sob-dylan]

I’m the passenger ending anon and I was more curious abt the last 3 minutes or so that’s all in a rosy “things are fine :)” kind of glow, it just seemed so disconnected from the rest of the movie. I LOVED bensons end scene I was eating it up Then hard cut to Things Are Ok :) Idk ! that’s why I asked bc ur no 1 passenger scholar on my dash

lol my bad, i probably should have realized that by "the ending" you meant the part that comes at the end 😅

i'll give a middling answer: it's alright. i mean, let's be honest, the passenger's strength isn't it's screenplay. there's a lot of good story in what mr. jack stanley wrote, but some of the pacing's a little bit awkward and a few things here and there don't make a ton of sense. that all kinda comes to a head in the last scene. but i don't want to throw too many stones, because i'm definitely no great writer, and i've alway found endings especially difficult. and ultimately, i do think the ending works.

even though it's a rough transition from the penultimate scene to the final scene, i appreciate that they took some time to show the positive aftereffects of randy's no good very bad day. there's a definitely a lot of information packed into that very short scene, and some of it feels cool, some of it feels weird. i'm glad that randy's standing up to his mom and going to hang out with friends. but who are these friends? did he have friends before that he just didn't mention? or did he make new ones between his kidnapping and now? his arm's still in a sling, so it feels like not that much time has passed . . . i like that he's kept in touch with ms. beard, but i hope he's doing a little more job-wise than just babysitting for her. his scene with hardy in the beginning showed us that he's in dire need of imagining a substantial future for himself. maybe he could teach! or become a librarian! i do like that they brought in ms. beard's daughter tessa, because for me the movie is all about children. it's about hurt children! and it's about how we need to do a better job of loving and helping and protecting our children! i know some people think it's pretty morbid and fucked up that randy teaches tessa the game that took her mom's eye out, but i actually think it's great that randy can accept that, yeah, it was just an accident, and he can trust himself to play this game for children without history repeating itself. and if it does, if tessa takes his eye out, then he can help her be strong and forgiving of herself like he's learned to be.

i'll admit that's it's all a little bit too tidy and saccharine. so i'm grateful that there are hints that randy's isn't totally fixed. if anything, he's got new, sexier, and possibly even worse problems. this is evidenced in three ways: he's got benson's jacket, someone was doodling a picture of two guys in a car (i've seen some people posit that randy drew the picture, but i hear that and think *jenna maroney voice* "did you draw that, randy? you might need help, because that is awful for an adult." i also think it's hilarious and sad and wonderful if randy found a way to tell tessa about him and benson and she illustrated it), and then finally we get the last shot as icing on the "oh boy this guy's gonna be fucked up forever" cake.

yes the ending is a bit clunky and perhaps even tonally out of step, but the last shot kinda made the whole movie for me. when i first saw the camera pan over to the stuffed animals and "supersoaker md50" kicked in, i SCREAMED! that was so killer! it was heart-wrenching! it was funny! and it was a good time! just like the whole movie! so yeah, the entire end scene maybe isn't all that great, but that last shot was. idk how i would have made the ending any better, so one great final shot is good enough for me.