#job to do. something to plan and coordinate. that part is easy and I know how to do that

[running-in-the-dark]

oh, yeah - we found a storage unit place (it wasn't that easy, those aren't common here - or at least not where I live). it's actually an old barn that's been converted lol. anyway, so we've rented that for three months (the shortest period they allow), which is perfect. then we don't have to move everything out of there immediately when we can move into the new place in April.

I think I've got enough boxes. I've got a spreadsheet that I'm putting all the information in about what's in which box. I've planned where everything will go and when. I think it's going to work out fine. the last time we moved was so stressful (because I was pretty sick and that made everything really hard), I really want it to go better this time.

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone (pt 2)

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (part 2) 

part three here

Synopsis: You agree to meet up with Tommy for dinner, but when it doesnt go to plan you find yourself in a dangerous situation.

warnings: violence (not extreme, very canon typical), tommy is not nice but i promise it'll make sense later, cursing

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @budugu , please let me know if youd like to be tagged!

information: Thank you all so much for reading, it warms my heart to know someone enjoys my writing! please leave a comment if you have a critique or anything else to say!

Around 4:30 the following evening, you began to get ready for your dinner with Thomas.

As you brushed and styled your hair, you thought of his strange mannerisms from the night before. He had seemed off towards the end of the conversation, and that was something that never happened, as nothing ever threw Thomas off. Just as the final touches of your hair and makeup came together, you realized the time. You had been so lost in your thoughts and in your indulgent hair care and makeup routine, that you had spent an hour primping and priming. Now only thirty minutes away from Tommy’s arrival, you needed to pick out a dress.

To a man, picking out a dress for dinner may seem like a small task in the grand scheme of his day, but all women know this to be false. First, you pick a dress. Then, you have to pick coordinating stockings, an overcoat, sometimes an undercoat, a bag, gloves, and depending on time of day, a hat. So what most men would deem as a quick process, isn’t a quick process at all. You did happen to be in luck though, as your favorite dress was one of the only items of clothing you’d hung up in your small closet after you moved in. You had your stockings from the night before, and they were a perfect match for your skin tone so that was also an easy choice. You decided to forgo a handbag, as you’d just be going to the Shelby’s, so you wouldn’t need any money. For shoes, you settled on a pair of well-broken-in kitten heels. This outfit was out of your recent rotation, given the odd jobs and such you had been working after your fathers death and mothers disownment, but Tommy always dressed to impress, so you thought you should too. Following that train of thought, you added a pair of your mothers white satin gloves, and awaited his arrival at your place.

6:00 pm

A loud knock sounded through your apartment, and you quickly jumped to open the door. There, in all his glory, stood Thomas Shelby. Looking good as ever in his black suit with a pressed white dress shirt, this time his hat folded in his hands.

“Y/N, you look lovely this evening.”, he remarked, eyes scanning you from head to toe.

“Thank you Tommy, you look handsome, as always,” you blushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Tommy smiled, offering his hand to help you out of the door and down the stairs of your apartment. You accepted his hand, loosely holding it in yours, before dropping it to turn around and lock the door of your home.

Once the two of you had made it to Tommy’s car, he opened your door.

“Always the gentleman, aye Tommy?”, you laughed, giving him a soft smile as you stepped into the car and sank down into the passenger seat.

“For you, yes, always.” He nodded, reciprocating your smile, and gently closing the door.

He rounded the car, getting in on his own side and starting the engine up. It gave a sputter, then turned over, allowing him to put it in gear.

“I could take a look at sometime that if you’d like Tommy.” You spoke softly, wanting to offer your help.

“How do you know anything about automobiles? Did you work as a mechanic in your time away, Love?” He joked, a small laugh followed by a toothy smile coming from his mouth.

“Yes, actually. I did.” You said sternly, not appreciating the mans sarcasm.

“And what else did you do in your time away? I suppose you also learned to train horses, or fire a gun?” He joked again, clearly not understanding your short tone of voice.

“One of those I did, the other I am still clueless about. Feel free to guess which.” You stated, now having grown angry at his teasing.

Tommy feigned a sigh, followed by his imitation of a horses neigh. The two of you remained silent for the remainder of the ride to Watery Lane, only for the conversation to be interrupted by Tommy as the two of you pulled up to park in front of the house.

“Just so you know, Arthur and Pol are here as well. They wanted to hear all your stories about your time away as soon as I told them I was bringing you over.” He spoke, his gaze remaining on your face.

“Okay, Tommy.” You spat, still quite upset about the conversation at the beginning of the ride.

Before he could ask any questions, you pulled open the door to the car, getting out. He tried to catch up to you, but you made it to the front door of the Shelby home before he did, and let yourself in the house. Old habits die hard, as they say.

Once inside the home, you surveyed your surroundings. Not much of the decor had changed, a few updated photos here and there, but mostly everything was still in its rightful place. You made your way through the house at a leisurely pace, admiring all the once familiar details that now seemed new. You made your way to the dining room, while Tommy still trailed behind you, watching your every move.

“Oh dear, it is so lovely to see you again! It’s been so long, how are you?” Pol said, quickly rising from her chair to give you a warm, yet firm hug.

“I’ve been good Pol, thank you. How have you been?” You returned, not only as a formality but because you were genuinely interested in her life.

As Pol rattled off her answer, talking about ‘business this’ and ‘this family that’, you noticed Tommy move behind you. He came around to your left side, pulling a chair out. You remained standing, not wanting to sit if that was where he had wanted to sit, but the soft hand on the small of your back encouraged you to take the seat. You briefly nodded up at him and gave a soft smile, then continuing to listen to Pol.

After Pol had placed food for everyone on the table, you all began eating. Someone had made a delicious meal, one of your favorites. You first assumed it was Pol, but when you complemented her, she quickly told you ‘Oh dear, I didn’t make this’ and cast a look at Tommy from across the table. You didn’t put any effort into figuring out what that glance meant, rather you just enjoyed the food and answered their occasional question. The questions weren’t anything to outrageous, until one came tumbling out of Arthur’s mouth.

“So, Y/N, what made you come back to the grand ol’ town of Small Heath?” He said, smiling at his question.

“I, uh,” you swallowed. You had truly hoped no one would ask, but you should’ve expected it. You cursed yourself for not preparing an answer ahead of time.

Your mouth ran dry for a moment as you tried to formulate what to say that would keep you out of the most shit. You didn’t want to blurt out the truth, but they most likely already knew it anyways, they were the Shelby’s after all.

“My mother and I had a disagreement about my…life plan.” You spoke, satisfied with your answer.

“What life plan, dear? What does that mean?” Pol added to the questioning.

“Probably the same life plan that included her learning about cars and horses,” Tommy said under his breath, but not nearly quiet enough, as the entire table heard him.

“Now Thomas, you know women can do what they choose.” Pol reprimanded, giving Tom a stern stare.

“Yes, women can.” He spoke, “but not Y/N.”

“And why not Thomas? Am I not a woman?” You said, letting your fork clank against your plate. He had your full attention now, and not in a good way.

“You are, you’re just…different.” He spoke, his gaze now on you instead of Pol.

You scoffed, and shook your head at him. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You didn’t recognize the Tommy in front of you, your Tommy, the one from 5 years ago, would have been uncaring about your interests, and glad to have someone be so knowledgeable about certain topics. You just stared at him for a moment, waiting on him to say something, anything, that would explain his previous remarks. But nothing ever came, and when you realized nothing ever would, you stood from the table, thanked Pol and Arthur for the dinner, and headed for the door.

Once outside the Shelby house, now all alone, you began walking. You were initially going to go home, but the dwindling liquor supply in your own cabinets encouraged you to find The Garrison. You walked down the streets, that still held a handful of people, mulling your thoughts. Tommy acted like a real jackass, especially given that he was the one who invited you over. By the time your anger had mostly settled, you reached the doors of The Garrison.

9:00 pm

You’d been sat at the bar of The Garrison for around an hour, and were plenty of drinks deep. You now held no anger towards Tommy; hell, you could barely picture his face in your mind. You hadn’t intended on getting drunk tonight, but the lovely barmaid by the name of Grace had been giving you all your drinks ‘on the house’, and who were you to turn down free alcohol? Especially given how you’d left your purse at home because you were ‘just going to the Shelby’s’.

A loud grunt came from behind you, followed by a man sitting down on the stool next to yours. You gave him a quick glance and nod, not recognizing his face. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing at the bar all alone, aye?”, he questioned, breathing his hot, putrid breath into your face. 

“One, I’m not alone. Two, none of your business, aye?” You said, hoping to be forceful enough that he got the hint and left you alone. 

Unfortunately, he did not. The next thing you knew, he had his fat arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his barstool. 

“Now listen here, little lady,” he breathed, “You can come to the back alley with me on your own will, or I can make you.” He threatened, brandishing a bowie knife from his waist. 

You sat for a moment, considering your options. You knew you definitely were not going into that alley, even if you had to die bloody for it. You quickly came up with a plan in your head, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you acted. 

“Fat chance, ya bastard. Now let me go,” you said loudly, hoping to draw some attention. 

The man laughed at you, and moved his hand up to grab your shoulder, encasing your frame in his large arm. There was no denying he had size on you, but you had speed. And speed always won. You quickly ducked under his arm, knocking your barstool over behind you. You grabbed his wrist as you slipped out of his hold, bringing his hand to the middle of his back. 

“What do ya say now, you piece of shit,” you laughed in his ear. 

Faster than you expected, he ripped his wrist from your hands, and turned to face you. You heard a loud pop, then the feeling of pain registered on your face. The fucker had just backhanded you infront of the entire Garrison. You gave a small chuckle, which spiraled into a full out laugh, leaving the man utterly confused. You turned your eyes up towards him, feigning doe eyes at the man, before you placed both hands on his shoulders. You moved in closer to his body, and before he could realize, you hooked your right leg behind his knee, and shoved his shoulders as hard as you could manage and still stay upright. 

The large man tumbled to the ground, hitting his head on your now discarded barstool. While you had the chance, you snatched the knife from his hands and knelt down on top of his large body. You pressed the edge of his blade against his own neck, feeling a sense of pride swell through you. You had just taken down this very large, muscular man in front of an entire pub. But before you could get any witty remarks out to your fallen opponent, you heard one thing. 

“Y/N, what have you done?” 

Fuck. Tommy had found you, and no less, found you on top of man, with a knife against his throat, in his brothers pub. 

“Y/N, get off of him. Now.” Tommy spoke, his voice sounding closer now. You turned your head to look at him, finally taking your eyes off of the assailant for just a moment. 

Tommy was standing right behind you, with a look similar to what you could assume the wrath of God would look like. He stood poised, with his hands behind his back, peaky hat on top of his head, hiding his eyes. You turned back to look at the fallen man underneath you, seeing his own look of fear on his face. Then you noticed drops of blood splatting onto the man's face. He wasn’t bleeding, you hadn’t cut him, this much you knew. You tossed the knife to the side, far enough away where neither of you could reach it, and felt for your own face. A warm spot of blood came back on your hand; He had cut the corner of your eye open when he backhanded you. You felt angry at first, then ashamed. This man had cut you, and you kept fighting him like a crazed person. Hot tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes, before you climbed off of the man. 

Tommy grabbed you, helping you to stand on your feet. You were still trying to hold back the tears in your eyes while he gently held your chin, looking over your wound. 

“Love, go to the office. Wait for me, I’ll be there soon.” He spoke, softly. 

You mustered a nod, and scuffled your way to the back office, to wait for him. 

[joannasteez]

ruining me

pairing: cody rhodes x oc (alana) warning: descriptions of sex. minors dni pls! authors note: this oc was/is an ongoing collaborative effort between @harmshake and i...you all are just reaping the benefits of a lot of yapping and informal world building. read this and if you liked it then say something to me about it! word count: 900 beans

the danger is the allure isn't it? the sweetness of forbidden fruit. the lingering of his palm during obligatory handshakes and those baby blue eyes pressurizing the skin to rise charmed and overwrought. the truth of it is terrible too. a public relations coordinator fraternizing with the company's top champion. the sharp point of alana's shoe skimming to tease his ankle. a delicate rub of leather against his patterned socks. poor judgement amidst a meeting. a campaign for wrestlemania no less.   

the cognitive dissonance is foolish considering the circumstances, sure, but the private moments are too sweet to not enjoy. to not revel in. torn apart, sheer pantyhose and his teeth nipping her inner thighs. bathing his nose in perfumed lined skin till it's staining his lungs. 

gifts, for practically every time she smiles at him. bracelets and necklaces and the perfumes she's had to set on a rotational schedule. that one little post smackdown getaway he'd planned last minute, from the ring to a plane to a finely grained sand beach. her legs tangled between his and their lips only parting to breathe. 

but mania season is a busy affair. months of planning and hair pulling stress. he didn't have time to indulge that impulse of spoiling and needless devotion. or, thats how it feels at least. what with his endurance and that little penchant for tugging her to the edge of the bed and keeping her spread for his tongue. he's tunnel visioned these days. focused and maybe stretched too thin. he doesn't lament about the exhaustiveness too much though. just tucks her into him and snores light. an admirable piece of his character amongst the other things, that selflessness, but the tension builds even in the silence doesn't it? hitches in the shoulders and in the practiced shape of a smile. he's due to crack soon enough and it doesn't help that alana is also due for a bit of ravaging. ragdoll treatment and some light admonishing before he's soothing over it all with delicate kisses and the weight of his body. 

the tip of her shoe against his ankle—slowly but surely rising past the opening of his pant leg—just so happens to be the latest in a well documented list of things she's done since the beginning of the week. little teasing things she's positive he's taken note of. 

the partition in his newly bought range rover suv has a push to engage button. volume adjusters accessible from the rear as well. 

soft melodies rising to a level worth drowning out the charm of her whimpers. the driver doesn't need to know what she sounds like.

the stripping tear of some newly purchased ultra sheer stockings and the bright play of a hiss. precision in movement. his fingers sweeping pass damp fabric to nudge at the pulse of her clit. thumb flat and rolling over firm till she gasping from that telltale bursting feel. seizing the moment to catch his tongue between her lips. short nails tugging through that fresh blonde job and a moan just shy of too loud. "mhmmfuck".

the safety of the seatbelts had been abandoned some minutes ago. an amalgamation of prior dangerous doings informing this latest one. a leg stretched and slung over his to spread her wide. enough to bare the eagerness of his fingers. an easy, shallow starting drag into her pussy that fogs the brain and slacks the jaw. two fingers curling in and the trail of his mouth to the skin of her neck. lip between her teeth with an attempt to hold all of that wispy, drawling noise. the kind saved for bedrooms and comfortable sheets. but with what little sense of sound mind left, alana figures cody doesn't care much. accepts the carpeted, leather interior of the car as much as he would the luxury of a spacious bed. 

"you make it impossible to focus", he groans. bits of resentment in his tone. troubled by the failure of his usual 'get shit done' attitude. a screwing drag of a motion in his wrist working up as he curls the tips of his fingers. tucking them in and stroking to sweeten the burn and coil in her belly. 

alana's head rolls right. a stuttered breath that fails to fill the lungs. disrupting his lamenting as her nose knocks into his. a whine drawing up quick to ride under the music as he retracts. "please". at the seam of his mouth. 

"they're talkin' merch and metrics and arena gates". more of that bass and minor resentment. his tongue licking in for something languid. testing his influence with a suckle. her clit throbbing harsh in an instant. hands on him fervent, playing with overdone nerves but without direction. running at his neck and into his hair . "immaterial bullshit", he grips. slipping downward again. playing his fingers in the mess she'd made with the tease of a third finger. 

"cody, please". 

a satisfied hum. nestling in as she stretches. body opening up under the persistent demand of his maneuvers. thick and wet at the base, near his knuckles. "i just keep thinkin about you", he breathes. a slight defeat in his tone. like maybe once upon a time he'd tried to corral his strength well enough to fight against the full force of his feelings. 

the break of everything is close enough to taste nearly. tingles at the nape of her neck and toes curling up, even in the restriction of her heels. a sobby whine cutting up from her throat. her hips rocking to follow the rhythm of his fingers. nearly turned up eyes from the fullness and her head going lax against the car head rest. his lips at her mouth still. feeding in words as she hitches from that telltale bursting. 

"you're ruining me".  

[fantasy-relax]

Ineffable plan

Part 4

In order to collect information, you needed to approach the women who decided to stay in the castle despite having finished the time stipulated in the contract, understandably they were also the ones who had higher-ranking positions in the castle.

Greta, 58 years old the head maid and Lady Dimitrescu's personal maid, in the months you have been there you have known her as a serious, severe and strict woman. However, her efficiency was undeniable, the castle was enormous and it was her duty to keep it clean and impeccable, you admired her ability to coordinate a tremendous amount of staff and carry out the matriarch's orders.

Jenica, 37 years old, was in charge of the vineyard and just as Greta lived under a lot of stress, she was always locked in Lady Dimitrescu's office or with Lady Bela.

Why stay here when they had more than enough money to retire without problems in the town? Furthermore, the responsibility was enormous as well as the stress, you had seen women of their respective ages with less gray hair than them.

Dorotthea, the 49 years old Chef and person in charge of the kitchen area, almost as strict as Greta, you didn't blame her, the kitchen team was the smallest in the castle, however the one that was most watched by the Dimitrescu. The kitchen helpers not only suffered from severe training to enter, they were also disowned by the other maids because the food prepared for the lady of the house and her daughters was made of human flesh that in many cases came from colleagues who broke the rules on too many occasions or were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In her case you could understand why she would stay, the rumors fly, you doubted that she could have a peaceful life after handing over her neighbors on a silver platter (literally).

Relia, the 47 years old master carpenter, relaxed with everything except her work, her passion for her craft was so much that she also was in charge of instructing the lumberjacks and checking the wood that was delivered. If it did not meet her standards, she did not hesitate to return it something the perfectionist Lady Dimitrescu let her do.

While she would face some disdain for being a woman, her experience would be very useful in the village as it needed serious improvements to increase the quality of life, the creation of fences and more resistant houses was a matter of life and death, they had to accept her help.

Alana the 35 year old gardener was... peculiar she was always mumbling while she ate, while she drank while she walked she was always whispering about the plants in the garden or the vineyard. She wasn't rude or anything, but it was hard to strike up a conversation with her that didn't involve plants.

She was intelligent, but her eccentricities would cause her problems in the town.

Soreana, the 38 years old stable manager, she was gentle but it was easy to see how she preferred being with animals to being with people. You didn't understand why you had seen the beasts that were called horses that carried Lady Dimitrescu's carriage, they terrified you as much as the lycans.

How could you approach them so you can ask their reasons?

-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------

“Do you wish to work as a specialized maid?” Miss Greta's voice showed a hint of curiosity.

“Yes, but I can't decide in which area in particular, you see, I have done various jobs in the village, I have had my hands stained with ink and dirt, so it is a bit difficult for me to decide where to go” You used the merchant skills that you had acquired after so many meetings and business with the Duke. “So I wanted to know if it was possible to spend a day in each area to experiment and see which one suits me best.”

The woman seemed to think about it before speaking with a tired tone. “There is a lack of personnel in all areas, the workers in recent years have been problematic and consequently have been... discarded.”

You swallowed, knowing well what she meant by that.

“I'm going to see what I can do, for today follow your normal schedule.”

You nodded, afraid and curious about what awaited you.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------

The next day while you were getting ready for work you heard someone knock on the bedroom door, something strange since to avoid conflicts due to your peculiar biology you woke up much earlier to be able to use the bathroom with privacy.

You opened the door only to be met with an irritated Greta.

“Already in uniform? Perfect, follow me” the woman didn´t wait for a response, walking quickly, almost stumbling, you closed the door and followed her.

“Excuse me, ma'am, but what happened for you to come pick me up so early?”

With a voice full of annoyance, she answered you. “A group of maids destroyed the window and part of the wall of the Hall of Joy” How?! “I still have to investigate where they got the explosives from” Again, how? “Lady Dimitrescu wants it fixed today” Daniela surely had something to do with that request “You said you knew about carpentry, right? “

“Yes ma'am, I also know a little about construction.”

Your response made the woman stop and grab your shoulders with a look that you can only describe as manic even if her voice was even as always. “Did you work with bricklayers?”

“A friend of my father is, sometimes he took me with him when they had work together” Maybe your father considered you a phenomenon, but if you could be useful to him, he was capable of taking you to hell.

“That will be helpful, Relia is the only one who knows anything about masonry, so your support would be more than good for her.”

So your research has begun.

[sidsthekid]

15 people 15 questions

thanks for the tag bud @crosbyism!!

1. are you named after anyone?

yeah but i don't like it. the plan is to change it someday, but there's some things i gotta improve about myself before i can...

2. when was the last time you cried?

a few days ago. i got 2am sad about things i thought i'd gotten over.

3. do you have kids?

no but every now and then the baby fever comes a-knockin...so maybe in the future

4. what sports do you play/ have you played?

sports were life for me!! i did soccer, horseback riding, swimming, volleyball, tennis. i also started to snowboard recently! but if life had worked out the way i wished it did, i would've stuck to horseback and joined a college team. i've loved horses since forever and the comfort they bring is something else.

5. do you use sarcasm?

penis

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

eyes and the way people talk, i.e. the sound of their voice & accent, maybe habits that they have in terms of how often they use a word (uh, like, etc.). but on the other hand, eyes!! very hard for me to resist the pull of a pretty pair.

7. what’s your eye colour?

brown! i used to feel meh about the color but i like them a lot more, now.

8. scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings. i saw the babadook once and that shit fucked me up real bad for a long time. i still can't really look into the darkness for too long or i start seeing things.

9. any talents?

music! i take to instruments very quickly and have what you might call perfect pitch (ew). same goes for my athleticism. my hand-eye coordination has always been pretty good and it makes it easy for me to jump back into things even if i've been inactive for some time.

except golf. i've always been ass at golf.

10. where were you born?

i was born in a place that i'll probably never see again! some teeny tiny suburb.

11. what are your hobbies?

i like to collect enamel pins! every where i travel i try to up a few. i also love doing pottery on the wheel, making pots and bowls. making lil animals to sit on my shelves.

i also love to ice skate and listen to music. and finally, i obviously very much enjoy reading fic and chit chatting about it with my buddies on here.

12. do you have any pets?

no but i fostered a cat once. he was my lil nutty angel.

13. how tall are you?

5 FOOT THREE.

14. favourite subject in school?

political theory. my favorite professor in the whole wide world completely redefined what it meant to study the topic and when i think about him and the classmates i had and the conversations and experiences we bonded over for too long, i definitely cry about it haha. man. i miss it.

i also really enjoyed studying american politics, specifically the history of conspiracy. i remember having to read 'the paranoid style in american politics' by richard hofstadter for a class and it was both parts fascinating and terrifying.

15. dream job?

i don't really have one anymore because i think i already got it. but obviously, things can change and knowing me, they definitely will.

tagging the below!! no pressure to do at all of course. it's all in good fun! :):)

@yippayappa@puckingembarrassing @capsvsducks @plethoriall @ellen-shame @robindrake13 @tangerwolls @georgievs @blackholesun @kylesdubas @cascara-soda @ceanspam @phdmama @dragooncroft @annieqattheperipheral

[electricbluebutterflies]

Ooo car sex from the smut prompts for Jess/leto. Would love to see what you come up with for that

First time doing modern AU in a very hot minute, vaguely nsfw, and also on ao3.

She’s had worse ideas, at some point. Can’t remember any of them, but-

Jessica is nineteen and one more incident from seriously considering eloping with someone she’s only been seeing for a month, if “seeing” is even the right word for what is currently a half-feral entanglement, and the way her life is going, losing her virginity in the back of a truck is a totally sensible life choice. Maybe.

Hers is a quiet rebellion and she could’ve picked worse than she did, could’ve gone full cliché and looked for more tattoos – he’s got two, yes, but they’re hidden so that doesn’t count – or someone a little less respectful of her as a person, or-

“Stay with me,” he breathes. She’s not sure it’s that simple.

She’s never done any of this before and he knows that and they’re not talking about it. What experience she has, if that’s even the right word, has been from other encounters like this, other stolen moments she shouldn’t have but she’s clawing every bit of life she can and-

“Be easier if you get on top of me.”

Jessica gives her would-be lover what she hopes is an acceptably confused look. She knows the theory of what they’re trying to do, yes, but not the exact mechanics, and-

“Easier how?”

She expects some kind of unimpressed comment but his hands pause on her waist up under her shirt and there’s something vulnerable in his eyes that surprises her and-

“I don’t want to hurt you. If you have control…”

“What if I don’t want to have control?”

He glances away for a moment. Would be longer, but she takes a kiss and she’s good at that part already, takes his lower lip between her teeth and nips it a little and-

“That does not feel like you don’t want control.”

“Tell me how, then.”

It’s too cold outside to fully undress. They don’t talk abut it, but the decision feels mutual. His hands get below the waistband of her skirt and this part is new and-

“You know-“

“Yeah.”

“Touch, if you want.”

She’s less steady, undoing his pants. This is all so new and she thinks for a moment that she’d prefer to be doing it somewhere that isn’t here, parked out by the stone beach nobody goes to this time of year and-

“Hey. We don’t have to-“

“I want to,” Jessica says with as much conviction as she can summon. “I’m not entirely sure about the circumstances, but-“

“Okay if I stop touching you for a bit? I have an idea.”

That phrase was what got them here in the first place, she reminds herself, and it’ll cause no end of headaches across the lifetime she hopes they get together, and-

“Okay.”

He leaves her laying in the back of the truck and goes to get something out of the front. From her current angle, and her total lack of desire to move, she isn’t sure what he’s doing, but-

“So, bad news, no blanket.”

She can’t help rolling her eyes. “Yu really didn’t plan this.”

“How screwed am I if I say I wasn’t sure we’d get this far.”

“I’m forgiving.”

It’s comforting, in some weird way, that he’s unprepared. That this isn’t just some game of corrupt the cult girl – not that Jessica minds if that’s what it is, she is trying to get corrupted here, but…

“Easier if you’re on top and that skirt stays on. Next time we’ll do better.”

She’s not in the mood to pick a fight, she decides, and getting him next to her and touching her again is nice, cautious fingertips in sensitive places and she’s probably not doing anywhere near as good a job exploring him in return but dicks are easy apparently and-

“You feel okay?”

“Okay enough?”

Straddling him is easy. Lining up their bodies is… a coordination issue, for a few moments, but they are new to each other and there’s enough potential that she’s thinking about lifetimes again and dammit it’s so cliché to catch this kind of feelings for the first person she’s ever wanted to touch her, first thing that counts for anything, and-

It des not feel good, exactly. The sensation of something new inside a very sensitive part of her body is overwhelming and not entirely in a good way, and she bites her lip hard enough to bleed and-

“Relax, if you can. If this isn’t working, it isn’t working, but-“

“Am I enough?”

He leans up to kiss her and a different angle makes it feel better. Still weird as all hell, but a little less like she’s getting torn apart, and she’d do this again, she thinks, she’d rather do it somewhere soft but she’d still do it again and-

“Stay with me.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

She wants to cry. She doesn’t cry around anyone, ever, so she settles for clinging to him and this makes it just a little easier and she’s still having trouble believing most people enjoy this and-

“You’re perfect, Jess. And you deserve… so much better than this.”

She could love him, she thinks. She’s not sure how she feels about love as a concept, but if she’s capable of it then maybe she could find it with him. His arms wrap around her body and his hips roll up against hers and this is at least neutral and that’s an improvement and maybe, maybe someday in the distant future she’ll like this and-

For now it feels like enough that something they’re doing makes his breath catch, and there’s another new feeling all of a sudden, and-

“Are you on something?”

“No. Should I be?”

He mutters what might be a swear word under his breath. “If… if anything happens…”

“What if that’s what I want?”

She doesn’t have a plan. Let this be her absolution, when she needs it. She doesn’t have a plan, but she’s starting to get there, and-

“Terrible idea.”

“Semi-planned pregnancy isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me.”

“We really need to work on your standards.”

“What if that’s what I want?” she repeats.

“Jess-“

“I know it’s a bad idea, but do I have any good ones left?”

He’s quiet long enough for her to separate their bodies, figure out where her underwear went and hope it absorbs the goo dripping onto her thighs. None of this is romantic; nothing in her life was ever supposed to be. If she decides to be creatively practical about choosing her own fate…

“Things happen,” he murmurs, finally fixing his own clothing. “And if something does… I’m on your side. Won’t say that’s what I want, but-“

“I can live with that.”

{She knows, somewhere in the deep part of her mind, that what she’s just done will have consequences.}

{Good, she thinks. Bring it.}

[drewbacca2]

Starkiller Saga

44 BBY Chapter two part seven

A trip to Kashyyyk

It's been six months since I've seen the hooded figure with the orange lightsaber. I've heard from Bar Lar that he's been messing with the gangs of this area. Or at least someone with his description, lightsaber included. I've been training my force power and my body these last six months in preparation for this fight I've been sensing. He hasn't been messing with Gungan Cargo. Good, but strange. Maybe he doesn't see them as a threat? Or is it something else? Anyway, I've done ten jobs for Gungan Cargo. Giving me a total of 100k and accumulatively 75k for my crew. I get the feeling that I'm needed somewhere… and as soon as I feel that I'm getting a call on my helmet. I answer it and I hear a Wookiee yelling in my ear. Well not yelling per se, but she's just a loud Wookiee when she's excited. "Grandson Grozchal! How have you been?" I say "Hey… Grandmother… I don't know how to tell you this… but- "Don't worry kid. I already felt him return to the trees… I felt all of them. I've met Bendak and your mother before you were found by your father. How did they die? If it's too hard to repeat I understand." "No, it's alright." I recount what happened. Sparing her the details of the war. "I need you to come see me." She says. "Um… not to be disrespectful… but why?" "Have you forgotten life day yesterday? Not to mention your birthday is in three days!" "Well… I'll have to see if I'm not busy today…" "I know you're in the area Grozchal. Your power has gotten stronger and better to where it's not so easy to ignore. I hope to see you soon, Grandson. Bye bye now." And before I can respond she hangs up.

I take my helmet off and go to look behind me to see if Meris is awake and- *Chop* "When were you planning on telling me you not only have a Grandmother, but your birthday is in three days?" I say "I didn't even know she saw me as her grandson. And… Well, I haven't celebrated my birthday since I was eight." "Well you better tell everyone we'll be leaving soon." She says."Right" I reply. I put my armor on and I speak over the intercom. "Alright everyone. We'll be leaving soon for a few days. But we'll come back though. Just want to pay a short visit to my grandmother. I leave the Raven to talk to Bar Lar. "Ah, there's one of my favorite Mandalorians! We unfortunately don't have any jobs for you today. Not only have you taken care of our last problem last week, nobody is needing anything done because they're busy celebrating the aftermath of life day. But is there anything I can do for you?" "Actually yes, could you reserve this landing pad for me? I should only be gone for a few days at max." "I'll see what I can do." He says "Thanks Bar Lar." "Anytime Grozchal." I walk up the loading ramp and as it's closing I turn on the intercom. "Fire up the engines Fixer. We're ready to head out." "Aye aye captain." And not long after she says that we're up in the air. I go to the cockpit and I teach Fixer and Tech how to use the weapons. Unfortunately Karrstag is too big to use the main two gunner seats. But he can use the anti personnel cannon. So I teach him to use that. "hyperspace coordinates locked for Kashyyyk. 3 2 1." She pulls the lever and we go into hyperspace. When we drop out of hyperspace I get a call from that same Wookiee. "I knew you'd come! I'm not ready with some things. Land here and I'll meet you there."

She gives me coordinates and I have Fixer follow them. We come to a wooden landing pad and I see her meditating on the floor in front of it. "You wanna come with me, vod?" He nods and Meris says "I'm coming with you. I want to meet the rest of your family." I say, "ok no problem." We walk down the ramp and she says with her eyes closed "Greetings my Grandson-" she looks up and looks past me to Karrstag and starts to tear up. "He looks like your father." "He does?" "When were you born?" She asks. "In three days, forty years ago. Why?" He says. Her eyes widened. "I knew of a Wookiee that was born forty years ago. I was going to pay him a visit but he disappeared five years ago. His mother died during childbirth. I was going to see if the rumors were true." "What rumors?" Karrstag asked. "That is if my son Karrstag had a child before he left for the Galaxy at large." Tears start to soak into her fur. "Look at him Grozchal! Does he not look exactly like your father?!" I look at him and I see it! "You're right! I don't know how I didn't see it before." "Maybe your eyes refused to let you see because of the pain of losing him." "Heh… we've been calling each other brother this entire time. While in reality we actually are." "I suppose now's a good time as any to ask." I cock my head to the left. "What do you mean?" Karrstag says. "So… I've been thinking… a lot, and I want to be a Mandalorian. If you don't-" I interrupt him with "Don't worry about how I feel about it, because I'm as happy as a loth cat getting fed and getting belly rubs at the same time! But think about what you want. It's a lifestyle, It's a culture, and a religion. There are some rules to being a Mandalorian. In no particular order, but all equally important. They consist of wearing the armor, speaking the language, defending oneself and family, raising your children as Mandalorians, contributing to the clan's welfare, and when called upon by the Mand'alor, rallying to their cause. I'll make you some armor out of durasteel. I hope we can get some Beskar and find a Beskar smith." He smiles and looks as happy as a Wookiee can get! Oh no… he hugs me and I'm dead. Never underestimate a happy Wookiee's hug. He puts me down and I then ask our grandmother what she wanted to show me. She points to the bowl in front of her and says "Sit, I have something to teach you." I then sit like she is. She says "I'm going to teach you healing. You need at least some medical knowledge. How much do you have?" I reply "I know the anatomy of every race in the Galaxy. And I'm not kidding." "I know you're not. This is good news. That means you can use this ability to its fullest potential. So, I need you to tap into the force." I do, and I wait for her instructions. "Now, do not pour too much of your essence into the target. Otherwise you may pour too much and die. You must also picture the flesh mending, the bone shaping, and the blood flowing correctly if you are to use this correctly. Now…" she grabs a ritual dagger and slits her wrist. "Dew it. You may want to hurry. I can only lose so much blood." I then reach out and I close it quickly. "I knew you would have! I think you're a prodigy Grozchal!" I rub the back of my neck. "I wouldn't go that far, but… "Oh you, always so modest. We need to go to the Shadowlands anyway. I think your present is ready. No spoilers!"

[suzyblue0292]

@r7skt sorry it took so long to reply. Had to do the teaching before I could type about the teaching.

Two quick misconceptions about teaching:

1. We are not 12month employees. We are contracted employees for the months school is in session. Some if not most schools with hold part of each month’s paycheck so we can survive in the summer. A few schools expect you to do this yourself. Which is hard because if there’s an emergency then that money is very tempting.

Despite that most teachers work on their curriculum, classrooms, and professional development (all of which we often pay for out of our own pockets) during those non-contract months.

Many of us also work other jobs during that time - and the school year.

2. We don’t just work the hours school is in session. We have stated contract hours we are to be on campus- generally around 30 minutes before and after first and last bells. Most teachers are there hours before after or both at least a few days a week. And that’s just teachers - coaches, principals, counselors live at the school. Coaches have to run practices, there has to be a principal at every school event, counselors and principals are drowning in paperwork. And that just covers the work we do at school- most of us work at home as well. The reason any teacher protest/walkout begins with a contract hours only step is because schools don’t function when those are the only hours we work.

The kids are the worst part of teaching. The kids are the only reason I teach. There’s nothing better than seeing a kid “get it.” Or building relationships with them. They are sweet and helpful and funny. Loving them is so fucking easy.

There is nothing more exhausting than being insulted to your face by people you care about more than anything just for doing your job/the right/adult thing.

When I worked in tech one of my supervisors said that 10 percent of your clients cause 90 percent of your problems. Same thing in teaching. Most kids know when they’ve screwed up and will own it. But oh my god the ones that don’t. Whatever they did or didn’t do is your fault not theirs. And 9 times out of 10 their parents will come for you and maybe your job as well. And the thing is you love the kids anyway. Which is why it hurts so much.

Just Google Ed laws if you’re not already familiar with the BS going on in various states right now. Ryan Walters in particular will bring you a wealth of insanity.

Trying to create an ELA curriculum is beyond headache creating in our current political climate. Granted I teach in a rural school (although I have taught at large ones) in a Bible Belt state.

Do not believe anything you see on the inspirational teaching movies. It doesn’t work like that.

Teaching is a lot more than standing in front of a room talking or even marking papers. You plan the lessons for each week (I prep 20 a week - each 50 minutes long because I teach English I, II, III, IV). Once you know what you’re teaching you have to get together the materials for all the lessons printed/posted, etc. then you teach it, then you grade it, then you analyze the data from the grades work to see if the kids learned it or if you need to reteach it. Generally while fielding emails and verbal complaints about why you’re not grading faster, because someone has always turned something in late that they want graded immediately. You’re also dealing with discipline issues, tech issues, issues from whatever club you sponsor, setting up testing dates, taking webinars. I am also my school’s coordinator for our states career portfolio program that all kids have to complete before graduation. And if you teach English every branch of the military will come to your class to give recruitment speeches multiple times junior and senior year. In fact anyone the school allows to speak with the kids that isn’t an assembly will happen in English because it the only required 4 year course so they get to everyone. Same with paperwork- need to get it everyone- English dept.

How much time do you have in your day to complete all these non teaching tasks? 50 minutes. And your 20 minute lunch. I’m fortunate enough to work at a school where they allow you to work at your desk if the kids are working, but some schools require teachers to be on their feet walking the room if there are kids present.

If you have questions hit me up!!

I’ll continue if I can think of anything else, but I’ve got lesson plans to finish for Monday😭🤣😭🤣

I know a lot of people hc Jason as an English teacher. I like it, I do. But let me be real with you 9 days out of 10 this is the conversation he comes home to:

“How was work?”

“I fucking miss being a crime lord. That’s how.”

[phantomrose96]

It's been a really messed up week at work.

I learned on Monday that 3 of my coworkers were being laid off. Two were under different managers, but one was a guy I've known since I started and he's been with the company almost 25 years. The layoffs were unexpected, and came right after a huge crunch-time for product launch, and I've been crazy upset for Ulli. Like how do you give 25 years to a company and then someone who's never seen your face just decides to let you go. Since it's a layoff, the decision came from outside our org and our managers/skip-level had no say in it happening.

One of the other guys, Jason, I didn't know well but he's been here 17 years and he was about to close on a house. Now he's out of a job and the bank won't give him a mortgage so just. Fuck you, no house. And this is after putting down the earnest money which is like, a deposit proving you're serious. If it was the 5% earnest money, that was probably like $30,000-$50,000 he won't get back.

The third person didn't reveal themselves, but like on Monday afternoon we had our usual weekly team watercooler chat and like... I made it known how upset I was and how scummy I found this. And I'm an easy crier (I've gotten better in adulthood, but the last couple months have been hard so my ability to not cry has dipped a lot I guess). But like, there was no one in the room with any power here. Layoffs are a faceless corporate decision.

And it was all extra scummy to me because the company is doing well. And they're projecting all this optimism about the future. But the stock price isn't making shitty wallstreet bros happy enough, so corporate decided to layoff 10,000 people--and that was a slow-drip of layoffs between January and March, which were going to be complete by end of March, and they waited for like practically March 31st to hit us.

So that was all... Monday... Tuesday morning I overslept (cuz I didn't sleep well Monday night) and woke up late so I like, kinda just jumped to my work computer. And there was an email from my skip level titled "Sad news about Alexei".

Since the third person to get laid off hadn't identified themselves, it sounded like Alexei was the third layoff. That didn't sit right with me because Alexei was a super super prolific engineer. Like I cannot overstate how prolific. He had a hand in everything. Even if you hadn't worked with him, you knew him. So I could just feel like something was wrong.

So I clicked the email. He died on Sunday evening. My skip-level only just found out and was informing everyone. I literally have an email in my inbox rescheduling a meeting that Alexei sent Sunday morning.

I didn't personally know Alexei all that well, but so many of my coworkers did, some for 24 years, and it's really really obvious how much this has rattled everyone. My project lead Ransom has been out most of the week, in part for the funeral and in part just taking bereavement time. Ransom is the main person I'm coordinating with, and we were just kicking off planning for next steps, so it feels like everything's in this artificial standstill.

And like... maybe I shouldn't phrase it like that. I did know Alexei. But I didn't "24 years" know him.

And now like, all the activity on Teams is either stuff beyond our org happening in the peripheral, or people within our org contributing thoughts and stories about Alexei.

For the last couple days I've been getting up intending to do work. But then I just kinda aimlessly stare at my remote desktop like it might do something. If I had some mindless tasks, I could do those, but my tasks right now are more like deep investigations and my brain won't turn on enough for those, and Ransom's not around to coordinate with. So I've mostly ended up just like... going and taking a nap and logging a sick day. I've also been so extremely tired.

It's been messed up...

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Mission Gone Wrong (Pt. 2)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The team finally get in contact with you, but getting you home safe isn’t going to be as easy as they planned.

Word Count: 2,009

Natasha’s POV:

When someone goes missing, every second counts and we already spent almost five hours trying to find her. Whoever took her did not sound like they were being nice to her which is all I need to know to want to put bullets in the back of their-

"Hey Nat can you hand me that paper with the coordinates Y/N gave us?" Clint asked me, snapping me out of the thoughts.

"Oh, yeah sure." I said as I handed him the paper and he walked over to the front of the quinjet to type in the numbers and put the jet in autopilot.

We were all sat down now as Tony spoke up.

"So I managed to locate where she's at and I found a layout of the building." he said as he presented a picture of the layout on the tv hung on the wall.

"I think it would be best if we all split up to cover more ground, but keep our comms on at all times so we know if something's happening." he added.

We all just nodded our heads in understanding and agreement.

"When we get there, Sam and I will check around the building from above to make sure it's clear before you enter, while you're in there, and before you exit. When it's good to go we'll give you the okay. Steve and Bucky can cover the hallways in the western part of the building. Wanda and Clint can cover the eastern part while Yelena and Natasha check the northern and southern parts. Bruce, you stay here and take care of what you can when we bring Y/N in until we can get her to the medbay. Are we clear?" he said as he laid out the plan on the tv screen.

We all hummed or said yes.

"What do we do when we find her?" Bucky asked.

"If you find her before I do let me know and I'll be right there. But if she's really hurt then get her to the quinjet asap. Be gentle when you touch her, and I'll meet you there. Understand?" I butted in before Tony could respond and waited for an answer.

Everyone nodded their heads, but I wanted a verbal answer to make sure that they knew how to handle my girl.

"I said do you understand?" I said a little more sternly and everyone said yes.

The rest of the flight was silent as we were all stuck in our own thoughts about Y/N.

When we got there, Tony and Sam went out to check the perimeter while the rest of us waited for the signal which was given to us about five minutes later.

"Alright you're good to go." Sam said over comms.

"Stick to the plan, if you need backup ask for it." Tony added.

I was the first one off of the quinjet, and the first one in the building with Yelena close behind. Everyone went to their assigned spots and took out opposing agents as needed.

"Is everyone good so far?" Steve asked.

"We're okay over here, but no sign of Y/N yet." Wanda responded.

"Well keep looking." I told her.

About 10 minutes passed and no one had eyes on

Y/N.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw an agent trying to discreetly attack me from behind, but they didn't do a good job at it and I was faster.

We got into a fight and I had the upper hand until they pulled something out of their vest, through it onto the ground, and it rolled over to the other side of the room.

That was the moment when I got the chance to knock them out entirely with a single punch to their face while they were distracted.

When I regained my balance I heard the object beeping and turned around to look towards it. My eyes widened.

It was an explosive.

When I realized it, it was too late as exploded.

The force of the explosion flung me back straight into a wall. It must've damaged some parts of the main structure of the building as part of it came crashing down.

When it settled down I heard Sam speak over the comms.

"What happened? Are you guys okay?!"

"Everyone check in, now." Tony said.

"Cap and I are good." Bucky confirmed.

"Im good and Wanda's still with me. Looks like only the eastern and southern parts of the building came down." Clint responded.

"Yeah it was a grenade. Son of a bitch had no other ideas but to practically blow up the place." I grumbled while standing to my feet.

"I'm fine. Just a bit of dust and rubble here but I'm good." Yelena grunted.

"Hey guys..." Clint said with a hint of worry present in his voice.

"What's wrong? Did you find Y/N?! " I asked concerned.

"No...but I found the necklace she always wears.  It was caught in all the debris." he said.

At that, my whole world stopped.

I started running through rubble and up a flight of stairs that led to the eastern part of the building. Yelena eventually caught up to me.

When I got there, Clint and Wanda were already lifting up pieces of stone and rocks in search of Y/N.

"Y/N?!?"

"Y/N are you here?!!"

I joined in, frantically probing through the wreck.

"Detka can you hear us?! If you're here make a noise or move if you can?!" I desperately yelled.

At this point, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Tony had joined in now that we knew Y/N had to be somewhere under this rubble.

"I've got her! Here!" Wanda alerted us.

I not so smoothly stumbled my way over the rubble and to Wanda who was trying to lift a large piece of stone. I saw part of Y/N's hand sticking out and I immediately started helping Wanda lift the rock to reveal Y/N's unconscious, bruised body.

Her clothes were dusty and ripped in places, her face had dirt on it and cuts that were bleeding.

I bent down to check her pulse and it was fairly strong.

I picked her up bridal style and we all started making our way over the debris, out of the building, and to the quinjet.

Bruce quickly opened the door for us and I made my way inside, laying the girl in my arms onto the stretcher that was set up.

He started hooking her up to a monitor and IV as I stood by her side holding her other hand that didn't have the IV, stroking her hair.

"You're okay now, detka. I'm here, I've got you." I whispered into her ear even though I knew she couldn't hear me as she was unconscious.

The team sat down to let Bruce have his space to work, and me have my time to take in the fact that after 7 hours, I finally have my girl back with me.

Bruce assessed her wounds and bruises. They were all pretty minor injuries except for the concussion she probably had which would be the reason she was unconscious when we found her.

When the quinjet landed, Bruce unhooked her from the machines because I insisted on carrying her to the medbay.

I made my way into the building and towards the medbay. Cho was already made aware of the situation and was ready when I walked into the room with Y/N in my arms.

I laid her on the bed and Cho hooked her up to a machine and another IV. There wasn't much more for her to do because Bruce took care of most of it. So she just double checked everything to make sure nothing was missed.

"Everything seems to be looking good. She should be waking up in the next few hours. Just make sure those cuts stay clean and change the bandages." Cho said as she washed her hands.

I gave her a small smile, "Thanks, I really appreciate it."

She just gave me a smile and nod before walking out.

I moved a chair next to Y/N's bed and sat down as I gently took her hand into mine and held it as I used my other hand to stroke her cheek.

I admired her facial features. Everything about her was perfect. From her eyebrows, to her eyelashes, to her nose, to her lips. She was beautiful even like this.

I was so starstruck about the girl in front of me that I failed to noticed the door opening and someone walking in until they spoke up.

"She okay?" Yelena asked.

I turned my head to look behind me so I could see who was talking to me.

"Yeah she's okay. Nothing major." I said as I turned to look back at Y/N.

"That's good." she responded.

A few seconds of silence passed before she spoke again.

"You really would go to hell and back for her, wouldn't you?" she asked me.

I slightly smiled before looking down.

"Yeah. Yeah I would."

Yelena walked to the other side of the bed to look at her best friend and started to stroke her hair.

"She's everything to me. I don't deserve someone like her." I said, finishing my thoughts.

"She probably thinks the same thing about you. That she doesn't deserve someone like you." she told me.

"I try to be the best person I can be for her. She's my muse." I responded back.

"And your muse would probably be getting on your ass now about how you haven't eaten anything for dinner yet." Yelena said as and made her way to the door, probably going to ask Wanda to cook something since she couldn't even boil water the correct way.

About and hour passed and I sat there by Y/N's side the whole time until she started to stir.

"Detka?" I said trying to see if my eyes were deceiving me, but I knew they weren't when her fingers moved in my hand.

"Come on sweet girl, open your eyes for me." I told her.

A few seconds later her beautiful (y/e/c) eyes slowly opened and blinked multiple time, trying to adjust to the light in the room.

"Hi, hi pretty girl." I said smiling at her.

"Nat?" she croaked out.

"Yes baby it's me."

Her eyebrows furrowed like she was thinking too hard about something.

"What? What's wrong? Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.

"How long have I been out for?" she looked at me.

"Well from the time we found you to now, a couple hours. We don't know what happened before that." I told her.

She nodded her head and looked down at our intertwined hands before speaking up again.

"I'm sorry Nat. I-" I interrupted her.

"Shh don't apologize babygirl it's okay. You're okay that's all I care about." I said moving my hand to stroke her hair instead.

"Can you cuddle me?" she so innocently asked.

I smiled at her, "Of course I can, angel."

I moved from my chair to lay down in the bed with her. She cuddled into my side and laid her head in the crook of my neck as she moved her hand to play with the necklace around my neck.

I move one of my hands to stroke her hair, and the other one to rub her back, trying to lull her into a relaxed state.

A few minutes later I looked down at her and she had heavy eyes.

I kissed her forehead, "Go to sleep detka, it's okay. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Natty." she quietly mumbled before she fell asleep and I smiled.

Grateful and happy to have my girl back in my arms safe and sound again.

[fragmcntdstars]

         there  was  some  indescribable  satisfaction  of  sending  the  latest  chapters  to  paula  ,  even  if  she  had  been  in  his  ear  (  quite  literally  )  for  the  last  few  hours  .   she'd  called  shortly  after  he'd  ended  the  call  with  gina  ,  as  if  that  coordination  &&  timing  was  something  that  they'd  both  planned  .   if  stu  thought  about  it  a  little  longer  ,  knowing  how  often  his  publisher  &&  ex  -  wife  agent  were  in  contact  with  one  another  ,  it  was  likely  that  they  had  actually  coordinated  it  .   honestly  ,  he's  not  sure  if  he  should  be  pissed  or  surprised  .   for  the  moment  ,  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  desk  chair  ,  he  decided  that  the  surprise  overwhelmed  the  crushing  desire  to  be  pissed  at  them  both  .   glancing  to  the  kitchen  ,  to  where  tamryn  was  ,  he  takes  the  earbud  out  of  his  ear  &&  puts  it  back  in  the  case  .

         unsurprisingly  ,  the  earbud  needed  to  charge  .   he  wasn't  going  to  write  again  until  later  that  night  ,  or  even  tomorrow  .   honestly  ,  it  depended  on  how  many  chapters  he  had  left  of  the  stab  novelization  .   he'd  forgotten  which  movie  the  franchise  was  on  at  that  point  ,  although  he's  not  shocked  it  was  still  going  .   some  part  of  him  ,  the  part  that  he  tried  to  hide  at  times  ,  was  sickeningly  pleased  with  how  popular  the  franchise  was  .   he  couldn't  believe  that  something  he  &&  billy  had  done  was  able  to  spark  that  much  fervor  ,  that  much  excitement  .

         thoughts  return  to  the  present  as  he  goes  into  the  kitchen  ,  rubbing  the  back  of  his  neck  as  he  tries  working  out  some  of  the  stiffness  that  had  settled  at  his  neck  .   “  no  ,  i  wrote  for  that  whole  time  ,  ”  he  says  ,  looking  around  the  mostly  empty  apartment  .   alexis  had  a  school  trip  that  weekend  ,  so  she  was  staying  with  friends  &&  martha  was  [  …  ]  somewhere  .

         he  laughs  ,  then  kisses  her  neck  again  .   “  you  can  always  remake  the  eggs  ,  ”  he  says  ,  pulling  back  before  going  to  the  keurig  .   “  i'm  gonna  fix  some  coffee  .   do  you  want  any  ,  tam  ?  ”   its  easy  to  fall  back  into  familiar  patterns  ,  even  as  paula  keeps  blowing  up  his  phone  .   he  feels  it  vibrating  in  the  pocket  of  his  pajama  pants  ,  reminding  himself  that  he  should  have  put  the  phone  on  do  not  disturb  or  something  similar  .   “  after  breakfast  ,  i  had  planned  to  sleep  ,  but  paula  might  not  let  me  ,  ”  he  adds  ,  a  slight  laugh  to  his  tone  .   he  loved  his  publisher  like  a  sister  ,  he  really  did  ,  but  sometimes  she  got  on  his  last  nerve  like  it  was  her  second  job  .

@fragmcntdstars asked:  ❛ i’ve been thinking about you all day. ❜ (stu & tamryn - older verse) // still accepting this meme

tamryn stood at the stove in one of her brother's t-shirts as she stirred a skillet of bacon and eggs. “you mean all night...it’s 6am. you’ve been in your office writing the entire night.” it was something she was used to as they were both very nocturnal creatures. “did you actually get any writing done or did you just think about me the whole night?” she certainly wouldn’t complain if it was the latter, tamryn found herself missing stu just as much when he wasn’t with her. even if he was under the same roof. “stu!” she laughed when his arms went around her from behind and his lips found her neck. she never called him ‘richard’ unless it was for appearances. when they were alone he was stu. her stu. it didn’t matter how long they’d been separated or how many years she went thinking that he was dead. “you’re going to make me burn breakfast!” she really didn’t care all that much about breakfast, he could make her forget about anything without much effort at all. “do you want to eat burnt eggs?” she breathed out. “because if you keep distracting me that’s what will happen.”

[ravenadottir]

Ooh, do you have headcanons for Lucas x Marisol x MC? I love Lucisol together and both Lucas and Marisol with MC separately, so having all three of them together sounds like a galaxy brain take to me! My two favourite LIs plus MC sounds awesome.

lucas x marisol x mc, dream throuple

the one thing that comes to mind when i think about lucas and maris

warning: contains smutty headcanons as well.

💋🖤 the dispute for attention is no joke.

💋🖤 trying to impress mc with the most crafted meals/surprise dinners, but they fail to coordinate and end up having to cancel one of the plans.

💋🖤 the bedroom might be the only thing the three of them agree on, decor wise.

💋🖤 marisol and lucas, being so neat and organized, will join forces against an mc that isn’t.

💋🖤 the banter they both have are turn-ons for all of the involved.

💋🖤 marisol and lucas might also join forces to tease mc... in more than way as well.

💋🖤 mc will be the most spoiled girl in a relationship. these two know exactly how to please and splurge.

💋🖤 trips might be the funniest part for me. while lucas wants to be spontaneous, marisol has a checklist for everything, which drives him crazy but after mc talks to him he might even think it’s endearing.

💋🖤 the balance between work/study and love life is definitely the hardest part. marisol might feel excluded sometimes, mostly because of how intense uni life can be, so you know lucas and mc have lots of quiet weekends to accomodate marisol’s schedule.

💋🖤 lucas’ job starts and ends in his place of work so it’s easy for him to leave early sometimes, just to pick up something to spoil the girls.

💋🖤 which brings me to him calling them “my girls”, and it’s probably my favorite headcanon about this throuple.

now, let's dive in on... other stuff

💋🖤 there's so much romanticism with those two and the ambiance around really shows. i reckon they're the type to light up candles, put on some music, have a glass or two of wine.

💋🖤 while we know marisol takes control, as intimacy goes, she will have to give in sometimes, for the sake of the relationship.

💋🖤 the sex is always fun, particularly for mc, who can just sit and watch marisol and lucas tease each other with their witty responses.

💋🖤 marisol likes to sit down and have mc's head between her legs while lucas stays behind mc. yes, the visuals are just... *chef's kiss*

💋🖤 SO - MUCH - SMIRKING - DURING.

💋🖤 lucas can't help himself when he's in the middle of the two girls. he just knows things are gonna be intense when he hears marisol's voice whispering "be quiet and enjoy."

💋🖤 marisol's voice is quite low, and combined with lucas' while they moan?? i'm sorry, i just had to point it out.

💋🖤 going down wise: marisol -> mc -> lucas -> marisol, know what i mean?

💋🖤 the one place they can agree to be the most fun is the tub, and i don't have to point out how good they look while in there, right?

💋🖤 from time to time they have the urge of taking care of mc without caring much about themselves. this is where the whole top/dom comes in. from provoking and long teasing to orgasm denial, sometimes lasting a couple of days or more.

💋🖤 i have this imagery in my head that i have to share: marisol drops by lucas' work and they take a quick picture to send to mc. so at any given point, it might be noon, she'll get a text of marisol in a hot bra and lucas' underwear in the same selfie and honestly? FUCK.

[zenith-impact]

May I request childe rescuing his s/o because she was kidnapped by someone who didn’t like childe since he’s a harbinger? thank you

Oooh I had fun with this one. Got a little long but I hope you enjoy! I also just realized you said “she” and I wrote it as GN. Sorry! 

Characters: ChildexGN!Reader

Warnings: Violence, Side Character Death

Length: 2.4k

Childe had dealt with many terrible things in his life, but none was worse than realizing that you - his precious partner and closest companion - had been taken from him.

He’d warned you that this might happen, and you’d always been on your guard. His job as a Harbinger had its benefits, sure, but it also had its downfalls. He’d always kept an eye on you, whether it be offering to go around town with you himself or sending one of his subordinates to make sure you were okay. And you knew all of this. At least, you knew now. He had tried to keep this part of his life from you, but you were smart - something he was quite proud of. You guessed his Fatui connections the first time he mentioned Snezhnaya, and he’d willingly told you everything he could. His status as a Harbinger. The existence of his delusion. His desire to protect you. All of it.

Admittedly, after a year together, Childe had let down his guard. He thought everything would be fine. It had been so far, so why worry?

That had been his first mistake.

“And you didn’t see them leave?” Childe said, unable to hide his anger. The person he’d sent out to watch over you had come back empty handed. He’d seen you with a woman that looked like a shopkeeper, but you’d both disappeared into the crowd without a trace.

“I thought they headed for the docks,” The man said, his hands shaking as he tried to find a comfortable way to bring them together. Instead, he kept pulling on his fingers incessantly, unable to relax. Good. Childe thought. Make him squirm. No one had ever lost you before. “But when I got there, they were gone.”

“Did you notice any boats missing?”

“A few, but they were all merchant ships.”

“And none of them looked suspicious?”

“There was a boat I didn’t recognize that left about ten minutes ago heading toward Inazuma, but it was going pretty slow,” the agent said. “I believe the crew might not be used to it.”

Childe swore under his breath. You could be long gone by now. He could send letters to the Harbingers, but you would be far out of his reach. He couldn’t leave Liyue to track you down, but he couldn’t stay and hope for the best. Childe had a sinking feeling that he was the reason you were gone in the first place. Where else did one attack a Harbinger when they spent so much time away from home?

He would never regret loving you, but he did regret putting you in danger.

“Get the others,” Childe said. “Half you look for clues around town, and the other half prepare our boat. I expect you to leave as soon as possible and find that boat, understand?”

“And you, sir?”

“I’ve got my own investigation to do.”

Childe would find you, no matter what it took.

He just prayed he wasn’t too late.

------

The crashing of waves startled you awake. Panic overtook you as darkness filled your senses. Your stomach rolled as you felt something jerk beneath you, and you realized quickly that you were in the hull of a ship. Your wrists ached from the rough rope holding them together. You could feel bruises blooming on your body where you’d been handled too roughly. You could feel something cool running down your cheek, and were horrified to realize it could very well be blood. Water dripped on you from the ceiling, sending a chill down your spine.

How far away were you from the harbor? Did Childe know you were missing? He had to by now. He’d always kept a close eye on you, something you’d grown to accept over the last few months. But there hadn’t been anyone to help you when that woman had dragged you away. Nobody had come to your rescue when the man kicked you in the stomach or the woman threw you to the ground. No Fatui in sight when you fell unconscious. You were alone in this room. Nobody was here to save you.

“Ajax,” You whispered, your necklace heavy on your chest. It was a promise to him you still remembered - I will always come back to you - Now, you wondered if you could keep your end of the deal.

The door slammed open and you flinched at the sudden influx of light. A man you didn’t recognize snickered, his boots clanging against the floorboards as he came inside. “This is the Harbinger’s beloved?” He scoffed. “What a joke.”

You pulled against your bindings, trying to find the courage that Childe admired. But you were terrified, and your fear only got worse as the man grabbed your arms and dragged you to your feet. “Time for some fresh air.” He dragged you out of the room, leaving behind another bruise on your forearm. You tried to lash out. Tried to kick him or break your bonds or do something, but all he did was throw you to the floor. “Be careful,” The man said. “Or I might just leave you down there to die.”

“Let go of me,” you hissed.

The man leaned over, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. He grinned and you turned your head away trying not to throw up. “You should’ve been more careful.”

You shuddered as he dragged you up the stairs. Deep down, you berated yourself for falling for such a stupid trap. The woman had seemed so kind, and you’d been helping her for the past few weeks with tasks around her new shop. You never guessed that she’d be planning something like this; toying with your emotions and earning your trust until you were willing to go to her “workshop” and carry back some “product”. It had been a moment of weakness. Now, you were paying for it.

The pirates on deck ignored you as you went by aside from a few whistlers. The woman was waiting by the wheel, her grin predatory. She looked different now, with her black hair tied back and her dress replaced by a pair of pants and a loose fitting long sleeved shirt. She crossed her arms as the man tossed you to the floor at her feet. “Well look at you,” She purred, grabbing your chin and yanking you upright at an awkward angle. “You’re even better like this.”

“He’ll come for me,” You hissed. “You won’t win.”

She chuckled. “We’re too far away now, and a Harbinger’s partner will fetch a pretty price on the black market.” She turned your head to the side, pursing her lips in thought. “He deserves this, you know. Ruined our shipment a few months ago. Got half of us thrown in jail and our ship destroyed. All over some debt he had no right to take back. But I’m better than he is. Better than some low-life Harbinger that can’t even protect his sweetheart.”

“Captain!” A pirate called. “Something’s coming!”

The woman frowned, dropping you as she moved to the railing. The man dragged you back to your feet just in time to see a small figure moving in the distance, crossing the water with blinding speed. Your heart leapt into your throat as it got closer. “Impossible,” The captain said. “How did he know?”

“We’re only a few miles off the harbor,” The man said.

“That should be more than enough…”

The water surged upward and you heard the figure cheer as he rose with it. Pirates screamed as it crashed down on top of them, knocking a few overboard. Childe landed in the center, brushing his wet hair back with a satisfied sigh. “That was fun!” He said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to use my vision like that.” When he looked at you, he winked, but you saw the way his eyes lost all of their previous shine. You’d seen that look before; his Harbinger eyes you called them. Last time it had been a merchant that had tried to cheat you out of a deal. A small folly compared to this.

“Might want to turn this ship around, captain,” Childe said. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“You can’t take all of us,” The captain said. “Not with your precious partner on board.”

Childe’s eyes narrowed as his carefree smile vanished. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll just have to do this the fun way.” He summoned his blades as the remaining pirates surrounded him, each one with their own weapons. But most looked uneasy, and you assumed they’d never dealt with a Harbinger before. Your previous captor joined them, unsheathing his scimitar and pointing it at Childe’s heart. But Childe just snickered, lowering himself into his battle stance. “Bring it on.”

The first man to attack was clumsy, and Childe knocked him down with little effort. Two others were more coordinated, but he slashed through them, knocking one straight off the boat. Three more charged at him. Childe dodged backward, swapping to his polearm and knocking the closest one away. Another pirate swung at his neck, but Childe sidestepped him, knocked his weapon out of his hand, and plunged the polearm through his stomach. He kicked the man’s feet out from under another man and swapped back to a dagger to block a strike from your captor. This man was a bit taller and far more muscular than Childe, but the pirate was the one straining. You heard a loud grunt as Childe yawned and pushed back with one hand. The man stumbled away, but recovered and swung again. Childe dodged each strike far faster than any human should have been able to before diving at the man’s chest. His daggers turned to a greatsword that he swung in a downward arch, slashing across the man’s chest. He hit the ground, his fingers twitching as he gasped one last time and slipped into the arms of death. The remaining pirates tried to run, but a burst of electricity shot out from Childe’s feet, paralyzing them all. He swung back around, swapping his weapons back to their dagger form as he raised his gaze to you. “Easy,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Barely an inconvenience. What a disappointment.”

You yelped as the captain slammed you against her chest, putting a dagger to your throat. “You stay right there, Harbinger,” She yelled. “Or I’ll kill them.”

“No you won’t.” Childe said with a fake yawn. “Now hand them over and I might go easy on you.”

“Never,” The woman hissed. “It’s your fault my father was locked away.”

“It’s his fault for trying to escape his debt,” Childe said with a shrug. “I’m just doing my job.”

You whimpered as the cold steel pressed against your skin. Despite Childe’s demeanor, you knew that his hands were tied. He wouldn’t dare leave your life in this woman’s hands, not with the rest of your crew dead and her soon to follow. You had to come up with a plan. Something that would give Childe the time he needed to save you. But what could you do? One wrong move and the knife would plunge right through your throat.

“You have a boat coming, yeah?” The woman said. “I want it and free passage to Inazuma.”

“You honestly think you could take over an entire Fatui ship without any of us stopping you?” Childe said.

“With your partner in my hands, yes , “ She said. “And don’t you dare test me, Harbinger.” Her arm tightened around your waist, but you could feel her shaking. She was scared. Maybe even hesitant. This might be your chance.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Childe said. “Should I let her go?”

The knife dropped away from your neck for a split second and you pounced, slamming your head back into the woman’s face. Childe was on top of both of you in a second, ripping the woman’s arm away and pushing you to safety. You heard a scream and the sound of his Hydro blades piercing through skin, but you didn’t dare look up as you tried to catch your breath. You collapsed to the deck, tears welling up in your eyes. Childe was by your side in an instant, holding you close to his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I… I tried to… I shouldn’t have…”

“Shhhh,” he said, cutting you free. “It’s alright. I’m here now.”

“I couldn’t even fight them off,” You said, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I…”

He ran his fingers through your hair. “You did fight back, sweetheart,” He said. “That’s all I could ask for.” You buried your face into his chest, sobbing as the fear you’d felt before was slowly replaced by shame. But he held you closer, enveloping you with promises of safety, quiet praises, and affirmations of love. Finally, the last of your tears slipped away and you looked up at him. Soon, his lips were on yours and you melted into him, relieved. When he pulled away, it was far too soon. “Rest,” he said. “ The boat will be here soon.”

You rested your head against his chest, squeezing his hand. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’ll carry you back if it comes to that.” He said with a lopsided grin. “We’re not that far away. It would be a fun little excursion. Sure you might get a little wet, but there would be no harm in it.”

“Ajax.”

He chuckled as he kissed your temple. “When we get home,” he whispered. “I’ll treat you to a nice meal and a bubble bath complete with all your favorite things. Then, I’ll wrap us up in your favorite blanket and tell your stories until you fall asleep in my arms, free from this bad dream.”

You smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

You felt his lips curl into a soft smile." But you have to rest now,” He said. “Or you won’t remember any of it.”

You hummed in response, closing your eyes. A short time later - or maybe a long time, you really weren’t certain - you heard the voices of the Fatui calling out for you. You felt him carry you across the waves, back to safety and heard him barking orders like the leader he was. And when you felt your body rest on an impossibly soft bed in the captain’s quarters, you let yourself slip into a peaceful slumber, smiling as the words “I love you” slipped from Childe’s lips.

[holykillercake]

FRIED EGGS

KOBY x Pirate!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: Being infiltrated as a Marine and keeping your feelings under control was easy until you were assigned to work with Marine Captain Koby. How you wished he was a jerk.

highlight: ¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨

warnings: read under the risk of developing diabetes.

notes: Hey, guys! This was a lovely request from @pure-kirarin! <3 I had to stop other projects to make this one because Koby threw me out of my comfort zone hahaha I really hope you like!! ALSO 1) Happy Birthday Sabo-kun! ALSO 2) In order to add more dept to the story, the main character is part of a Yonkos´crew, but I wrote in a way that all fit, so choose your favorite! ALSO 3) ART ALERT!

Leave comments, hearts and love!

¨You have been doing a remarkable job in such little time, Commander L/N. We all have great expectations regarding your transference to our Marine Headquarters.¨ 

The words of the Rear Admiral barely scratched your mind as you discreetly observed the pink-haired boy´s reflection on the crystal clear window. 

He maintained a similar posture to yours: chin up, chest out, shoulders back, and stomach in. However, while your fingers remained paralleled to your trousers, you took a glimpse of his clenched fist, thumb fidgeting the side of his index finger. 

¨Vice Admiral Tsuru was reluctant to sign your transfer. She said you remind her of herself in the past, which is always an excellent compliment to hear.¨ you nodded, acknowledging his words  ¨We´re glad we convinced her.¨

Your heart warmed with his words, and you almost felt bad because you knew the disappointing outcome O-Tsuru-san would have at the end of this. She trained you with the iron face of a merciless soldier, and the elegance that resembled the animal of her name.

It has been three years since you received the green card from your captain to part ways in a long-term solo mission. A journey to excavate the putrid secrets of the so-called defenders of the law. You learned after a short time that justice is not so black and white.

Not that you planned to reveal the dirt, no. That intel your captain could sell to the Revolutionary Army and keep the capital running. You were interested in the arms race, the corrupt diplomacy, and more importantly, the dark pipes where traitors flowed.

Someone from inside the Yonkos was feeding the Marines with crucial information about the Emperors´ activities. And in such a close fight, you could not take those risks.

All other Emperors must have their own undercover agents within the Marines, but even that was a dispute. You could point some names to your boss, who confirmed what was suspected. Those would usually be the best of the best, extravagant and loud.

But not you. You didn't have to make that much noise. You slid between the floors of New Marineford like a snake swimming with the current. Earning the respect of your superiors and being promoted without ringing any bells. You accepted each medal with a firm salutation and relentless performance. 

¨The trip must have been displeasing. Submerging ten thousand meters underwater and rising to these fiendish waters require a good rest. Our Marine Captain Koby will escort you to your quarters, Commander Y/N. The remaining instructions shall be presented tomorrow.¨

You saluted the Rear Admiral in front of you and turned to the exit, passing by Koby, who waited for you to leave first.  When your paths crossed, the pace of your heartbeats quickened, pumping more blood through your body and leaving a burning sensation on your cheeks. 

The involuntary response was instantly interpreted as alertness to danger, which needed to be handled with caution. 

Can´t let my guard down around this one, you thought.

In fact, you planned to keep as much distance as you could from him. An officer let slip that he has been gaining incredible control over his Observation Haki since the Paramount War. 

But the wind seemed to change direction, and you began to swim against the current. When the morning came, you were assigned to be his partner for an undetermined time, and he would act as your superior. The idea of being bossed around by a younger marine got your temper sparked. 

Only he was not like the others, treating you in a patronizing and condescending way. He spoke to you with the same cordiality and politeness he addressed everybody else. 

Slowly, your concrete cold expression began to soothe. You would still remind yourself how annoying his good manners were, though. So annoying, seriously!

¨Good morning, Y/N-san!¨ he greeted as you joined him for breakfast. 

¨Good morning, Koby.¨ 

¨Our Border Force correspondent sent his report early in the morning with information about possible Yonkos´ alliances in the Wano Country. We are arranging a meeting as soon as possible.¨ 

You didn´t like to handle work so early, but this subject, in particular, raised your spirits. ¨Good. It was about time.¨

You noticed that he wore a different headband. ¨What happened?¨ 

¨Hm?¨ he brought the soup bowl close to his mouth. 

¨The bandana. Green, with the fried eggs.¨ he choked on the miso soup, coughing like he had swallowed poison. 

You reached for a paper tissue and handed it to him. ¨K-Koby, are you ok?¨

¨Y-Y/N... Y/N-san...¨ he coughed some more ¨They´re not... fried eggs...¨

¨Oh...¨ your brows raised slightly ¨What are they?¨

A depressive aura grew around him ¨They are flowers, YN-san...¨

The edge of your lips contorted as you tried to hide a smile. You haven´t felt like smiling genuinely for years. Annoying boy!

From that moment on, ignoring him became more difficult. He started to ask you to train with him or invite you to spend some time with him and Helmeppo whenever you had free time. Eventually, he began to ask you how he looked before an important meeting. 

Most of the time, you would reply something like ¨ok¨. But sometimes, the mouth was quicker than the brain, and you would let an ¨impeccable¨ slip out, followed by an awkward throat clearing and blushed cheeks. 

From both sides.

•

¨Oh my-¨ you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence. 

You were chosen to complete this mission due to your excellent skills in hiding emotions and acting calm under stressful situations. No one could break you. 

Within the Marines, no joke could make you crack a smile, and no torture could make you spill secrets. 

Why did you want to ask if he was ok?

Koby had entered his office with bumps and bloody bruises over his face. His always neat uniform was blotchy, and he carried a first aid kit. 

¨Garp-san paid a visit.¨ He sat on the couch and opened the white box, throwing everything on the coffee table. ¨I bet it wasn't like this with Tsuru-san.¨ he chuckled. 

¨No. She would beat me up, wash me and hang me up to dry.¨ 

You shot from the chair, moving towards the clumsy pinkette, who struggled to attend to his injuries. He tried to hold the mirror with one hand and suture his gash with the other. 

¨Thank yo-¨

¨Shh. Don´t move.¨

You leaned closer to have a better look, giving Koby the same chance. Your delicate perfume smelled like it was tailor-made for you. Your breathing was slightly irregular, and your lip twitched with every given stitch. Your fingers felt like feathers on his skin, so much that he didn´t even feel a sting. 

The job was fast and efficient, making Koby wish Garp had put more effort into his Love Fist. Grabbing a piece of wet cotton, you cleaned the dried blood.  

¨Alright...¨ you whispered.

¨Alright...¨ he whispered back.

You were inches apart from his face, your eyes traveling across the scar on his forehead, the pink locks, and kind features. Your mind traced back all the way to the Paramount War. You had very little knowledge about him, but the words he spoke that day have always made your heart pound like cannonballs. 

You will make an excellent Admiral one day, Koby. 

I hope you don´t hate me. 

¨Y-Y/N-san...¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Your smile is beautiful.¨

¨What?¨ The stupid scene of yours was interrupted like a DJ stopping the record player. 

With cheeks getting pinker than his hair, you shot up and marched back to the chair and your newspaper. ¨You clean this up.¨ 

He left a low chuckle out and began gathering the mess. 

Oh, no, Y/N. You have got to be kidding me. 

He is a freaking marine. Breathe. 

There were a vast number of reasons why you couldn´t like him: from him being a Marine Captain and you being a pirate to the fact that your mission was coming to a conclusion.

Meaning that your journey as his partner would be very soon reaching its end. The meeting with this mysterious correspondent regarding the Yonkos´ operations in the New World would be the last move in this chess game. You would be going home. Mission completed. Everything perfect, right? 

Right, perfect. Impeccable! Ugh!

•

¨... confirm secure line.¨

¨This is Border Officer code 404890. Secure line confirmed.¨ you spoke with a low but clear voice through the nail transponder. 

¨What´s the status on our birdie?¨

¨Positive. The birdie is located at 03:24:01.¨ you gave your boss a coordinate to the name of the Marine informant. The answer you took three years to find out remained on file number one, third page, suspect number twenty-four. 

An amused laugh echoed on your end, and you buried the speaker on your jacket to muffled the sound. 

¨At least he is not one of ours.¨ a chuckle ¨Great job, Y/N.¨

¨Thank you, boss.¨

¨I know this mustn't have been easy, but you were impeccable as always.¨

Yeah, impeccable. 

¨You know the protocol now. We´ll see each other in a few days. You´ll have a party waiting for you, kid.¨

¨Aye, aye, boss. But I want the good booze.¨  Both of you laughed. 

You finished the call, and the smile on your lips died as the image of a pink-haired boy invaded your mind. You wished he was a jerk like everybody else. 

It would have been so easy. 

¨Who were you talking to?¨ your chest contracted, pushing the air out of your lungs and sending extra blood supply to your muscles. 

You hid the transponder into your jacket and turned, facing your Marine Captain. 

¨Eavesdropping, Koby?¨

What should I do?

¨Y/N-san, who were you talking to?¨ he repeated himself, offering the benefit of the doubt. You sighed.

¨My captain.¨ 

Why the need to be honest with him?

¨Y/N-san, please don´t tell me-¨

¨I´m sorry, Koby. I wish I didn´t have to do this.¨ you couldn´t bring yourself to face him.

¨A-Are you a pirate? Why?¨

You chuckled ¨Why am I a pirate?¨

¨Why did you do this?¨ his face was pale, making your guts twitch in guilt.

¨I´m on a mission. But I´ll leave soon.¨

¨You are like... Vergo-san.¨ he sounded disappointed.

¨I am nothing like Vergo. You know this.¨ or at least you hoped he did. 

He closed the door slowly, eyes fixed on your figure. The bright light from the window made him look like an ethereal painting.

While you tried to predict his next move, whether he was going to interrogate you or kick your ass, Koby acted calm and collected, not hesitating. He trusted his Observation Haki to guide his next move. Or maybe his heart.

You saw a pink blur closing distance like a missile, and before you could dodge, his hands pulled you by the waist, connecting your bodies and lips. 

He forced your back to meet the thick window with a gasp that was muffled by the kiss. His touch was rough upon the fabric of your uniform, but his mouth felt soft against yours.

Your hands moved to his hair, removing the round pair of glasses and the green bandana so you could get lost in his locks. His grip was harsh under the fabric of your uniform, but his hair felt soft on your fingertips. 

A moan escaped your lips when he parted the kiss with a loud snap and struck the glass with both hands, keeping you trapped in the middle. You let go of his hair and grabbed him by the collar, not letting him go away.

¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨ his breath was heavy and carried with a myriad of emotions. 

¨I know... I am sorry.¨

¨Why?¨

¨Because I like you, Koby. A lot.¨ he paused for a second, fighting the urge to admit the same.

¨What was your mission?¨

This is the last lie, I promise, Koby. ¨The Marines possessed vital information about something my boss wants. I needed to get it.¨

¨Now that I know that you´re a pirate and that you stole Marine´s assets, I´m gonna have to hunt you down.¨

¨I´ll be waiting for you.¨ 

You stared him in the eyes, and he kissed you to stop himself from saying what he really wanted. 

I love you, Y/N-san.

Diary of Koby-Meppo: The Fried Egg Life Crisis.

💕 @vemuabhi

[ssahoodrathotchner]

There is a Light That Never Goes Out

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you get kidnapped by an unsub and needless to say, it’s not fun

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: swearing, blood, injuries, stabbing, panic attacks, kidnapping, hospitals, angst and fluff

A/N: wanted to write something angsty with a happy ending and here we are! the longest thing i’ve ever written

Masterlist

---

In hindsight, things could have gone better. The case itself was pretty straightforward, with the biggest complication being where the hell Michael Robertson was hidden away. However, no man can hide from Penelope Garcia and within six hours of figuring out Robertson was the unsub, she had his location narrowed down to a small farm in the middle of nowhere. Of course, you thought, where else would a guy like him torture and kill seven women.

Pulling up to the seemingly small farmhouse, you and Reid exchange looks before tightening your bulletproof vests. Double—triple—checking your gun, you tune in to Hotch and Rossi giving directions to the team and local PD about breaching the home. Hotch and Prentiss will take the front door, Morgan and Reid the back, while Rossi and JJ have the barn—you’ll take the side door and meet in the middle, easy. Local PD will secure the perimeter and provide backup as needed. Giving Hotch a reaffirming nod, you disperse to your entry points.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your weapon and prepare to bust this door down in hopes that Robertson will surrender peacefully and you can all go home because fuck do you want to get out of Iowa. Hearing Hotch’s signal, you kick down the door in front of you—a welcome plus of your job—and announce your presence. However, you’re met with a hard elbow to the face. Reeling backwards and tasting blood, you only have the sense to cup your now bleeding—and most likely broken—nose with your free hand.

“Motherfucker,” you spit out in pain, the comms in your vest picking up your voice.

“Y/L/N, report,” Hotch demands, voice scratchy through your earpiece.

However, you are unable to respond as Robertson moves towards you and, taking advantage of your dazed state, hits you over the head with a fucking two-by-four once, twice, nope three times before the jagged wood floor is rushing up to meet you as you collapse into darkness. Oh, fuck. You’re out before you hit the ground.

---

As soon as Aaron hears you swear, he knows it’s bad, but one look at Emily has him forging ahead and clearing each room like he is supposed to. Checking in with the other duos, Hotch can’t help but worry when you don’t respond immediately. When he finally gets to the mid-point of the house and the exact spot where you were supposed to rendezvous with him, Emily, Derek, and Spencer, his worries spike exponentially.

“Where’s Y/L/N,” he spits out.

“We didn’t see her,” Morgan answers carefully. “We assumed she found you guys,” he adds, and Hotch grits his teeth.

“Clear in the barn,” he hears Rossi report, and he sighs.

“Y/L/N is missing,” he says, surprisingly calm. “Report to the house.”

Police officers shuffle through the house, and Aaron tries not to let his irritation show. Turning back to the team, he can’t help but notice how worried the rest of them are.

“Our one and only priority is finding Y/N,” he states.

“I’ll get Garcia onboard to coordinate what happens next,” Morgan says, excusing himself from the tension of the farm house sitting room. “Expect some very distressed calls in your futures,” he finishes with a shake of his head.

“Emily and I will re-check the rest of the house, just in case,” JJ supplies, and Hotch nods. Reid, looking uneasy, makes some excuse about double-checking the floor plans of the property before skirting out the door, leaving Dave and Aaron—and some police officers—to survey the bland artwork on the walls.

Grasping the bridge of his nose, Aaron tries to take a deep breath, but he can’t; not with you missing on the property owned by an unsub fucking known for mutilating women.

“Hey,” Rossi approaches from Hotch’s left. “We’ll figure this out. Y/L/N’s a smart girl; she won’t go down easy,”

Hotch can only hope that Rossi’s right, but he trusts you; trusts your instincts as an agent.

---

You come to in bits and pieces. Some part of your brain recognizes that you’re being dragged by your armpits down some rickety stairs and deep into the earth; another part recognizes that your hands are free, which means your gun is no longer in your grasp. Fuck fuck fuck. A particularly harsh blow to your head from the hands of your captor stops any further thoughts. Fuck you, Robertson.

---

Regrouping with the team outside the house, Hotch starts to get agitated.

“What do you mean there’s an elaborate tunnel system beneath the house, Garcia,” he almost yells. “How did you not catch this before.”

“Well,” Reid steps in, “the only plans that include this system are dated between 1910 and 1924 which means that they were built in at least the 1900s and the fact that they do not appear in any property plans since those dates suggests that the subsequent owners either didn’t know about the tunnels, or they actively chose to not include them for some reason which—”

“—which means that we don’t really have a clue as to what the current tunnels look like,” Morgan finishes for him, and Hotch internally blanches.

No, he thinks to himself. I will not lose her like this, not after Haley.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch tries to re-assess the situation, but finds himself unable to breathe deeply. At all. Gasping, he tries to communicate to the team the severity of their situation, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. Vaguely, he hears Morgan clear the room as JJ gently takes his upper arm and steers him out the back door of the house on to the porch.

“Hotch,” he can’t stand to listen to her voice; her calm demeanor only increasing his anxiety about your current situation.

“Hotch,” JJ tries again, harsher this time. “I need you to take a breath; only one, just now, that’s it.”

I can do that, he thinks. And he does; he takes one solitary breath.

“Good,” she encourages, “now do it again, just once.” And so he does, again, and again, for JJ.

Once his breathing is under control and JJ steps back with an appraising eye, he speaks.

“We need to find her,” he gasps out. “We have to; I can’t—” he trails off.

With a softness he has yet to comprehend, JJ looks into his eyes and sighs.

“We’ll find her, Hotch,” she reassures him. “She’s on the property, she has to be, and we’ll find her.”

With a shaky nod, Hotch allows JJ’s words to take hold of him, and he goes back to being the BAU’s Unit Chief. Gazing out on the field behind the house, his resolve is firm; Aaron Hotchner will find you, Michael Robertson be damned.

---

The next moment you remember—thanks broken nose and probable concussion—is your body being roughly thrown into a plastic chair, sans bullet-proof vest, and then your arms and legs being tightly tied down. A rag of some sort is crudely stuffed into your mouth, and you can’t help but gag because fuck does it do nothing to replace the gross taste of blood in your mouth. At least it’s me, you think to yourself, I’d hate to think of anyone else from the team in this position. And with that thought, you drift out of consciousness with Aaron’s face in the forefront of your addled mind. Love, I hope you find me soon.

---

It’s been three hours and Aaron Hotchner is losing his mind. Garcia, to her credit, is working furiously to uncover literally everything she can on Robertson, his family, friends as well as the closest neighboring farms to the one the BAU is currently ripping apart. Prentiss and Morgan have taken to meticulously going through each and every room of the house and barn in hopes of discovering some new and hidden passageway to the tunnel system that resides under the structure. Reid is creating an enhanced geographical profile of the property and those that encompass it, while JJ and Rossi discuss the nuances of Robertson’s profile somewhere with the local cops. Aaron, however, can only seem to scowl at the field of corn behind the house and remember the last moments he had with you before you disappeared.

“Hotch,” he turns when he hears Morgan’s voice. “We’ve got something.”

Heart racing, Hotch nods and follows Morgan out the side door—the one you entered—before stopping just short of the man in front of him.

“Local crime scene techs just confirmed that there’s blood here, and judging from the placement of the drops, it seems that Robertson got the drop on Y/L/N,” he states with a grimace, and Hotch can’t help but scrutinize the ground where your blood has fallen.

“Reid’s got a better handle on what might have happened, but I thought you’d like to see it for yourself,” Morgan finishes, and Hotch nods tightly before moving off in search of Reid. Finding the young profiler in the front room of the farm house, Hotch only has to look at him before he’s revealing all that he’s learned since your disappearance.

“It seems that the blueprints for the house were updated once since the 1920s, which was in 1953, so that’s our most recent map of what the whole underside of the property looks like,” Reid continues. “From what I can tell, there are at least five entrance points, three main walkways, and eight different chambers that appear to function as some form of bunker for the previous owners, and so my guess is that Y/N is being kept in one of the rooms, just like the previous victims most likely were,” Reid pauses. “Not that Y/N will become another victim, I’m just saying that for the sake of the case it appears that—” Emily enters the room and Hotch has never been so grateful for her presence in a room, ever.

“Hey, I don’t mean to disrupt Reid’s briefing, but local PD has found a possible way into the fuckin’ labyrinth out in the barn,” she states, curiously looking over at the map Reid has scribbled onto the property blueprints.

Turning his head sharply, Hotch nods at Prentiss and uncrosses his arms as she leads him out of the farm house as Reid continues to ponder the blueprints in front of him.

---

The next time you rise to consciousness, Robertson is dragging an ugly hunting knife across your collarbones, shoulder to shoulder, and cooing at you to wake up. Weirdo.

“Ah, there you are baby,” Robertson says sweetly. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up for me.”

You let out a groan and through the gag in your mouth—holy fuck does it taste like dirty socks—you attempt to cuss out your captor.

“Now, now, Sweetness,” Robertson chides. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” and with that terrifying statement, he leans closer to you and pulls the knife across your left shoulder, effectively slicing open your work shirt. Damn, you think to yourself, this was actually one of my favorites. But that’s the last coherent thought you produce because the combination of Robertson’s knife, the searing pain of your broken nose, and your own possibly concussed brain are unable to completely comprehend any more information as the man in question leaves light slices across your upper chest. Thankfully, the rag—sock? —in your mouth muffles your whimpers as you jolt in pain. Aaron, please find me soon you think before the feeling is all-encompassing and your mind shifts to merciful blankness.

---

“I wish I could do more,” Garcia states, but Hotch can only sigh in agreement.

“You’ve done well, Garcia. Let me know if you find anything else,” Hotch states, eyes darting over to the geographical profile Reid is standing in front of, conversing with Emily. The tunnel found by local PD had been a decoy, and they were no closer to finding you.

“Of course, Sir. I’m on it like Sergio on tuna. Garcia out,” and with that statement, the line goes dead.

Putting his phone in his pocket, Hotch walks towards Reid and Prentiss with purpose.

“Reid, have you found anything else about the tunnel system?”

“It appears that there are a series of false entrances that don’t actually connect with the full network of passageways,” Reid states gesturing wildly at the map. “The full system can only be accessed from four different vantage points, but given that this map hasn’t been updated since the 50s, I only have a general idea of where the entryways are given that the buildings on the property have shifted since the last accurate map was compiled.”

“The good news is that two of the entrances seem to be contained within this house, the bad news is that they may have been bricked over by renovations to the building,” Prentiss says with a grimace. “The other two entries are somewhere out in what’s now the fields, so we’ll have less luck finding them, even with all the extra help from the PD.”

Hotch’s shoulders sag under the weight of the new information and he frowns at the agents in front of him. Squinting hard at the blueprints haphazardly tacked to the board in front of him, Hotch tries to make sense of the possible entry points in the house he’s currently standing in.

“Get Morgan in here,” Hotch finally says. “He’s got experience with restoration work and may have a better idea on where the unsub could have taken Y/N from within the house given the structural changes.” And with that, Hotch strides out the front door of the house and leans on the porch railing. Y/N, I’m coming for you, just hold on a little longer.

---

Robertson is a bitch. And he has the knife to prove it.

“So, you’re impotent, that’s why you’re using such a big knife, right?” you taunt him after who knows how fuckin’ long. “You see, we thought you had, mmm, issues, but we didn’t know for sure; this just confirms it.”

He took the gag out of your mouth to hear you scream, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing so. However, instead of responding to your jabs, Robertson just drives the knife a little bit deeper into your torso and you let out a hiss in retaliation, throwing your head back.

“God, you sure know how to treat a girl, don’t ya?” you grit out between pained breaths. “No wonder a charmer like you had so many lady friends.”

“They didn’t appreciate me!” Robertson yells. “Just like you don’t appreciate me!”

The next slash glances off your ribs and yikes does it fuckin’ hurt. Jerking away as best you can, you contemplate your options. At this point, you know your only way out is to either escape—as if—or to make Robertson see some semblance of reason. Otherwise, you aren’t going to make it out of here alive. Fuck, you think, I’m so sorry, Aaron. I promise I’ll find you. Or you’ll find me. A particularly vicious cut to your cheekbone draws you back to reality, and once again, you are only able to focus on the pain and Robertson’s maniacal laughter. Creepy motherfucker.

---

Hotch has never seen Morgan so focused. Scouring the blueprints with Reid and Prentiss, Garcia on speakerphone, Morgan works to figure out where the hell Robertson could have disappeared to inside the house. With you. Hotch has taken to pacing the length of the house in order to keep his nerves and his temper somewhat under control; he needs to be alert and ready to get to you as soon as possible. Running a hand through his hair and over his face, Hotch sighs which draws the attention of Rossi and JJ who slowly drift over to him from their place by a window.

“Hotch—” JJ starts but is cut off by a hard look.

“We’ll find her, Aaron.” Rossi tries. “You know that she’s here somewhere, probably giving Robertson all sorts of hell.”

“We’ve seen what Robertson does to his victims, Dave,” Hotch retorts. “He basically slices women to pieces and beats them,” taking a breath, he tries to calm himself. “We need to find her alive,” he finishes softly.

JJ and Rossi share a concerned look before Rossi sighs and steps forward to place a hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her. There’s no way—” he’s cut off by an excited yell and the three of them swing around towards the source of the noise which happens to be Prentiss.

Morgan’s already moving, stalking into another room and Reid, accompanied by Garcia on the phone, hurries to catch up.

“We found the door Robertson most likely used to take Y/L/N and we’re pretty sure it connects to the full system under the property,” Prentiss explains and that’s all it takes for Hotch to stride off after Morgan and Reid.

Head spinning, Aaron fluctuates between hope and hopelessness. He knows they’ll find you; Robertson can’t hide in the tunnel system, no matter how well he knows them, but he’s most worried about you. We’re coming for you, Y/N. I won’t let this bastard get away with this.

---

Your whole body fucking hurts and you’re pretty sure it’s not just because you started off your captivity with a broken nose and concussion. Your mouth tastes like blood again from how hard you’ve clamped down on your bottom lip to resist screaming as loud as you can. Robertson is cruel, there’s no question about that. You’d seen the photos of his other victims, and now you were undergoing the same things those women did in their last moments. Your entire body feels heavy, and if you weren’t tied down to a chair, you don’t think you’d be able to hold yourself up. Between the blood loss and head trauma, you’re surprised your thoughts are still relatively coherent.

Robertson is pacing in front of you, muttering to himself, shooting looks your way, and absentmindedly gesturing with the knife in his hand. Fantastic, you think hazily, he’s most likely devolving and I’m the only one around. Yay. Sucking in a breath, you wince as the action reignites a dizzying pain in your torso. Letting out a groan, you flinch as Robertson turns towards you, eyes shining with something that makes your heart race a little quicker. 


“Now, baby,” he states with a twisted grin—grimace? —that makes you grit your teeth even harder. “I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry. I still wanna hear you scream for me.”

Here we go again.

“Do your worst,” you snarl at him, and while that’s probably the worst thing to say to a devolving unsub, you’re too fed up and tired to care at this point; you can take it, you have to take it so you can survive. C’mon, Aaron. Where’s my knight in shining armor? Robertson descends on you with renewed vigor, and after the fourth slice to your leg, your ears rush and your head drops to your chest as you pass out. Fuck.

---

The trap door Robertson dragged you down can only be accessed by sliding one of the wooden floorboards back half an inch before it clicks into place and the adjoining boards lift slightly, revealing the way into the tunnels. How Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss figured that out is beyond Hotch’s current thought process because how many times had he paced over that exact spot? As soon as the hatch is lifted, all he sees is blood—your blood—sprinkled on the steps that descend into the darkened passageway. He takes a sharp breath and somewhere behind him, he can hear JJ gasp and Morgan swear.

“Medics are on stand-by,” comes Rossi’s voice from his shoulder.

Nodding tersely and setting his shoulders, he turns to the team.

“Stay alert and stick together. We don’t know where Robertson is, so clear the rooms and move on.” His voice is hard and leaves no room for debate.

“Let’s go get our girl,” Morgan adds, and with that, the team takes careful steps down into the hallway, following Aaron.

---

The first room they happen across is empty, as are the second, third, and fourth rooms. Forging ahead, knowing that they’re only closer to where you are, they continue. Turning a corner, Hotch can hear movement and his heart speeds up. Robertson. Signaling to the team to pause, he gauges the best course of action. He doesn’t know what state you’re in, or Robertson for that matter, and so he has to approach the situation with caution. Gun in hand and stepping to one side of the door, he lets Morgan and Prentiss move to the other. Backed by JJ, Reid, and Rossi, Hotch nods and Morgan kicks down the door before moving quickly inside, yelling at Robertson. Prentiss follows him and then Hotch steps through and freezes.

Robertson is crouched over your crumpled and bloody body looking wild-eyed at the agents in front of him. Hotch can’t breathe. You aren’t moving.

“She’s mine,” Robertson snarls, brandishing a knife at Morgan as he tries to get closer. “Mine!”

“Okay, Michael,” says Rossi calmly, “Let’s figure this out.”

“No. She’s mine! I’m not done,” Robertson’s reply is harsh, bordering on a yell.

“What do you mean you aren’t done, Michael?” Hotch’s voice is cold and flat. What more could Robertson possibly want?

“She didn’t scream! I need her to scream for me!” and with that, Robertson runs the tip of his blade down your already bloody cheek.

The team is stunned, but then Robertson raises the knife in the air over your chest and—

He falls.

Looking slowly to the right, Hotch sees Prentiss, gun raised, and then to Robertson splayed on the ground, blood pooling under his head. Vaguely, Hotch hears Reid calling for medics and alerting the local officers to what just happened. Morgan’s already at your side, turning you slowly, carefully, gently on to your back, and that’s when Hotch rushes to you, gun holstered.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. There’s blood everywhere. Aaron can’t tell if you’re breathing. He chokes back a sob. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.

“Hotch, she’s alive,” Morgan breathes, and with that, Hotch lets out a sigh of relief and allows himself to fully look at you, blinking a few times to rid his eyes of tears.

Your face is littered with shallow cuts. Your nose is bloody—definitely broken—and there’s already bruising around your eyes. Your shirt is torn and bloodied in so many places, as are your pants. He can see blood leaking slowly multiple places on your thighs, and even more from your arms and midsection. Your eyes are closed.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Hotch presses down on one of the lacerations to your torso, Morgan taking another, and JJ appearing to apply pressure on a cut that’s just a little too close to your femoral artery.

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” his voice shakes. “I need you to open your eyes, Y/N. Have to know you’re okay.”

There’s yelling from down the hallway, medics bustling into the room and taking over. Aaron can’t make himself let go of you, and it takes Rossi’s gentle but firm hand to guide him back and away from you. He can’t stop shaking.

---

You wake, briefly, when you feel yourself being lifted. Squinting, you try to turn your head, as the rest of the world comes crashing back in a wave of sound and movement. Vision blurred, you try and make sense of what’s going on around you.

“She’s awake!” calls a voice from your left, and you can make out the outline of… JJ? They’re here.

You’re shifted around more, and you get the idea that you’re being strapped down to a gurney as medics begin to wheel you out of the hellhole where Robertson held you.

Suddenly, there’s a hand grasping yours, and before your mind can comprehend what’s happening, all you hear is—

“Sweetheart…?” in the most relieved, reverent, adoring, tone you think you’ve ever heard in your life and it’s Aaron holding your hand. He’s here he’s here he’s here. He found me.

“Aaron,” his name leaves you in a sigh. “Y’found me,” you say softly, looking him over.

“Of course, I did, Sweetheart,” he says, just as soft.

“Where’s…?” you don’t want to say his name.

“Dead. Emily shot him,” Aaron answers in a low voice. Good fucking riddance.

You hum and ease back as the gurney jostles you particularly hard. Gritting your teeth, you groan as you head starts to pound even harder. Feeling yourself losing consciousness, you squeeze Aaron’s hand.

“Love you,” and before he can respond, you vision goes black and all is quiet once more.

---

After you get loaded into the nearest ambulance and speed towards the hospital, Rossi confirms that local officers have secured the scene. With not a moment to waste, the team takes off after the ambulance. Morgan calls Garcia to update her on your status and spends a majority of the ride to the hospital convincing her that she doesn’t need to fly over to see you. Hotch stares blankly out the window and replays the entire interaction with Robertson. He saw the damage Robertson did to you—I need her to scream—and can’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the fact that you didn’t give in to Robertson despite the obvious pain you endured.

The SUVs pull up to the hospital, screeching to a halt, before all the doors are thrown open and the team hurries into the lobby. The nurse at the desk looks up to find six disheveled agents crowding around the counter, worry across all of their faces.

“We’re here for Agent Y/L/N, she probably arrived twenty minutes ago,” Hotch states, voice surprisingly calm.

“I can confirm she arrived and that she’s currently being attended to, but I don’t know any more than that at this moment,” the nurse replies, looking at the computer screen.

“Do you know if she’ll be okay?” asks Spencer in a subdued voice.

“The severity of her injuries is yet to be determined, I’m afraid. She has obvious head trauma, numerous lacerations, and possible internal bleeding, but until I get another update, that’s all I can share,” the nurse says with a sad smile.

Nodding, Aaron steps away from the counter. C’mon, Sweetheart.

“Thank you,” comes Rossi’s voice from Hotch’s left, and with that, the team migrates to the largest cluster of chairs where they promptly collapse in exhaustion.

Sitting down heavily, Hotch rests his elbows on his knees and runs a hand over his face. Prentiss drops in to the chair on his left, Rossi settles in on his right. Across from them, Reid and JJ sit on either side of Morgan. Looking down at his hands, Aaron realizes that they still have your blood on them. He glares at them, somehow wishing that if he stares hard enough, it’ll vanish on its own. A hand closes around one of his, and he looks at Emily.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says softly, then, louder, “You guys too, Morgan and JJ. Let’s go.”

It’s then that Aaron looks—really looks—and sees that like him, Morgan and JJ have your blood on their hands as well. With a nod, they all stand. Morgan and Hotch walking into the men’s room while Emily follows JJ to keep her company. Mechanically, the two men stand side-by-side and turn on the taps, starting the slow process of washing away the blood that’s dried on them. Glancing to the side, Hotch sees Morgan, brow furrowed in concentration, as he scrubs under his nails.

“Thank you,” he says, stopping his own motions to fully look at Derek, who turns at the sound of his voice.

“For what?” Morgan asks, slightly confused.

“For going over the blueprints with Reid, Prentiss, and Garcia. For figuring out where in the house Y/N had disappeared. For going above and beyond to find her and— “

“Hotch, you don’t have to thank me for that,” Morgan cuts him off. “I will do everything in my power to make sure this team is okay, you know that,” and with a small grin, he adds “I’m just happy that one of my hobbies was useful for the case.”

Hotch can’t help but smile a little in return, and with that, they go back to washing their hands in a more comfortable silence.

---

Walking back into the waiting area, Hotch is confronted with the sight of Reid and Rossi surrounded by a pile of snacks from one of the vending machines. He pauses for a second, shakes his head, and then continues back to the chair he was sitting in earlier. Once he’s seated, Reid tosses him a bag of something—chips? —which he dutifully opens under the watchful eye of Rossi. Morgan snags his own snack and then leans against the nearest wall, content to stand. A short while later, Emily and JJ return, Emily’s arm secure around JJ’s shoulders, before they too are digging in to the veritable mountain of food that Reid and Rossi managed to accumulate. Sitting in silence—save the crunching of whatever food they were eating—the team takes a second to contemplate and reassess the day.

The sound of Velcro breaks Hotch out of his trance, and he looks over to see Morgan undoing his bulletproof vest. The vests which the rest of them are still wearing. There’s a scramble after that, to rid themselves of their exterior layer, which are then haphazardly stacked on an open seat. Taking a deep breath for what feels like the first time in days, Hotch sinks back in his chair and closes his eyes, head tipped back against the cool wall behind him.

“Anyone want water?” Reid is the first to break the tenuous silence. There’s a chorus of hums and head shakes before he stands and wanders off, presumably in the direction of the vending machines where he first got the food.

“She’ll be fine, you know,” Rossi says looking at Aaron, whose eyes are now open, staring at the ceiling. “She’s tough, tougher than I think we gave her credit for.”

Hotch sighs in response, but Emily is the next to speak up.

“Robertson said she didn’t scream, which…” she trails off, looking at the floor before meeting Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t think I could have done that, not like that. I can’t imagine what that was like for her...”

“I wish we had gotten there sooner,” Hotch finally says. “I wish—”

“No.” Morgan says, a hard edge to his voice. “Don’t do that to yourself, Hotch. Or any of us. We did what we could and we found her alive.”

“I know, but—” Hotch is cut off by JJ this time.

“But nothing, Aaron. She’s going to be okay.” And with that, JJ moves from her chair to the one next to him and gently puts a hand on his shoulder. “She was awake and talking before they took her away, you know that,” she adds softly.

“Hey guys, so I talked to the nurse and—” Reid returns and with those words, Hotch sits straight in his seat, JJ’s hand falling away as his attention and that of his teammates focus on what Reid has to say next. “—and apparently, Y/N only needed minor surgery to repair some internal damage from three of the stab wounds and the other slashes were relatively shallow, so they just needed to be stitched up. She also has contusions on her head from where I’m guessing Robertson hit her to initially subdue her, and she does have a concussion and broken nose, but according to the nurse Y/N only has to stay here for a maximum of three days to make sure that there are no serious effects from the concussion and to keep an eye on her sutures before she’ll be cleared to leave.” Reid’s final statement hangs in the air, sinking in, and once it does, Aaron hangs his head as tears fall down his cheeks. You’re okay. You’re alive you’re alive you’re alive.

Derek immediately calls Garcia to give her the good news and her scream of excitement can be heard by the rest of the team even though Morgan did not have her on speakerphone. Rossi chuckles to himself before looking over at Aaron and his shaking shoulders. Putting a hand on his back, Rossi doesn’t say anything, but instead, provides silent support to the man who almost lost what little he had left.

“Agent Y/L/N?” comes a voice from the desk, and Aaron wipes his eyes before taking a breath and standing and turning with the rest of the team.

“Yes?” It’s Prentiss who replies.

“We’ve moved her to a room; you can see her now,” and with that, the nurse beckons for them to follow her through the set of double-doors that lead further into the hospital. Coming to a stop, the nurse turns and fixes Hotch with a look. “I’ll warn you now, she looks worse off than she actually is, so don’t be put off by her appearance. She shouldn’t move too much because there’s a risk she’ll rip her stitches, but other than that, she’ll be okay,” and with a nod, she opens the door and ushers them inside.

Aaron’s eyes rush to take in your appearance—butterfly bandages across your nose, a few on your cheekbones and forehead, bandages up both arms, and he’s sure there’s more hidden from view. For a moment, he’s taken back to the last time he saw you laying this still. Crumpled on the floor, bloody and unmoving, Robertson with a knife crouched over you, going to kill you—

Prentiss pushes past him, breaking his train of thought, as she moves to your side and gives a low whistle before gingerly taking your hand. Aaron walks to your other side, bending down to place a kiss on the top of your head, and the rest of the team surround your bed, everyone gazing down at your sleeping form.

---

The first thing you notice is the pain in your head, followed by pain that slowly pulses through your whole body, and for a moment, you remember. Robertson, the knife, slicing, slashing, taunting, yelling, don’t scream can’t scream—

But then you feel it. The familiar pressure of Aaron kissing your head and it clears your head a bit. Not with Robertson, not with Robertson, I’m not with that fucker.

“Fuck,” you groan, mind still hazy, pain more intense, as you return to consciousness. “Wh’re am I?” you slur out next, as you blink away the tiredness in your eyes and try not to squint at the fluorescents or the shadows that are sharpening into your team.

Looking to your right, you lock eyes with Aaron, who pushes hair off of your face before smiling sweetly at you and you try to smile back.

“Hi, Love,” you say, voice low and rough. He leans down and kisses your forehead this time, before gently holding your hand.

Realizing you aren’t alone, you look around at the rest of the team, squeezing Emily’s hand in yours.

“You killed ‘im?” you ask, searching her face. She nods. “Good,” you sigh. “He was such an asshole.”

With that, Derek laughs, followed by Rossi. Emily’s shoulders drop as she lets out a chuckle, Spencer smiles, and JJ rolls her eyes with a fond grin. Almost the whole team.

As if summoned by the power of thought, Derek’s phone rings and he answers the call, Garcia’s voice coming through loud and clear on speakerphone.

“Y/N! My poor, poor, goddess divine how are you?” she questions. You clear your throat and attempt to speak, but before you can say anything Morgan is passing the phone to Aaron, who holds it closer to your face. You shoot him a grateful smile before responding.

“I’m fine, Pen. Just some cuts and scrapes,” you joke.

“That’s a lie, Y/L/N and we all know it. Don’t make me ask you again!” she chastises and you roll your eyes, holding back a wince as pain twinges through your side.

“I’ll be okay, Penelope,” you say softly. Another jolt of pain, this time in your arm, almost makes you whimper, but you bite your lip instead. An action which does not go unnoticed in a room full of profilers.

“It’s nice to see you awake, Y/N,” JJ says lightly before shooting a glance at Aaron and then looking at the rest of the team. “But we should get back to the hotel.”

“Bye my lovelies! I’m happy you’re okay, Y/N. Get home safe, please! Garcia out,” and Derek puts his phone away before smiling at you. Reid give you a small wave and Rossi claps a hand on Aaron’s shoulder before they all turn to exit.

With one last squeeze to your hand, Emily lets go and follows the rest of the team, save Aaron, out the door with the promise that they’ll return later.

When everyone is out and the door shuts behind them, you finally let out a pained breath and scrunch your eyes shut with a groan. You feel Aaron smooth a hand over your hair and you try to control your breathing, but it’s hard when your entire body hurts. Slowly, tears make their way down your face and Aaron’s quick to softly brush them away. Turning to look at him, you allow yourself to breakdown in the safety of his presence.

Your breath hitches as the tears fall faster, your head hurts, your chest hurts, everything hurts and you try not to break into a sob, but the tears won’t stop and eventually sobs wrench from your body and you let them. Aaron has tears of his own falling down his face and he holds your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles, fingertips, palm, whatever he can as he watches you break. He wants to hold you, wrap you in his arms and shield you from the pain but he can’t because your injuries prevent him from doing so and it pains him to see you this way. So he does what he can.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. I didn’t get to say it before you passed out and—” he pauses to take a breath. “I love you so much. So so much.”

“I was so scared—” you gasp through a sob. “Terrified, Aaron. I couldn’t—” you can’t speak through the force of your tears. Aaron shushes you and kisses your cheek, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“I know, Sweetheart. I know, but you were so brave, so brave and I am so proud of you for being so strong and—” he breaks off in his own soft sob. “—and for staying alive. You’re alive.”

Lifting a hand to scrub at your face, you take a few deep breaths, but more tears escape.

“I can’t—” your breath hitches at what exactly Robertson had done to you. “He wanted me to scream so I didn’t, I couldn’t. I knew what he did to the others, and I just thought that—” you take another breath. “I just thought that if I could deny him that, not give in, it would buy you guys time to find me,” you pull Aaron’s hand to your lips, resting them on the back of his hand and closing your eyes to ground yourself.

“And you did,” he replies softly, gently. “When we found you—” he takes his own steadying breath. “When we found you, Robertson was angry, he said…he said he needed to make you scream, and hearing that…I just,” he moves his hand to cup your face, softly moving his thumb over the bandage on your cheekbone. “You astound me, Sweetheart. Everyday,” he finishes in a whisper.

“I love you,” you say just as softly.

“I love you more,” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile back.

You lean forward, then. And he meets halfway, hand disentangling from yours so he can cradle both sides of your face as he sinks into the kiss. One of your own hands finds its place on his cheek and you sigh into his lips. This. This is what kept me alive, you think when he gently tilts your head. I love you I love you I love you. Thank you. With tears slowly drying on both your faces, you and Aaron revel in the comfort of each other. In the words you don’t have to speak, and the touch of the one you love. Through the worry, pain, and fear of the day, this is how it always ends. You and Aaron. Together. Safe. Loved.  

[myaimistrue]

inspired by this amazing art by @punkcakez and my absolute love for jack and claire :) 

cross-posted on my ao3 here

“I hope you two are proud of yourselves.”

Claire and Jack glance at each other, and then back at Dean and Jody in such perfect coordination it’s like they planned it.

“We are, actually,” Claire says, cocking an eyebrow up. Dean is reminded so much of himself at her age that for a second, he forgets how pissed he is. “The ghost’s gone. We took care of it.”

“People were dying, Dean,” Jack pipes up. “We saved lives.”

Claire grins at him. “Exactly, bud.”

“Not with any discretion, unfortunately,” Jody says. Her arms are folded tight across her chest, and Dean’s glad he’s got her as back-up here—the woman’s terrifying when she’s angry. “Do you have any idea the kind of favors I had to call in to keep you two from being charged?”

“It’s part of the job, Jody,” Claire says nonchalantly. “Shit happens. Sometimes you get caught.”

Dean makes an indignant sound. “Shit happens? Shit happens like going on another hunt without telling us, when we thought you were on your way home? Like being seen by a cop in the middle of a salt and burn, hopping a fence to escape, being caught anyway, and breaking your brother’s arm in the process?” He motions to Jack’s brand new cast, which is bright pink and will probably be covered in signatures sooner rather than later. “That ‘shit’ doesn’t just happen.”

Claire does look upset when she glances at Jack’s arm, and that’s enough to make Dean deflate a little. But only a little. “It’s not your fault he got hurt,” he adds softly. “But you two have to be more careful. You have to tell us where you are.”

“Imagine if that hadn’t been a cop. Imagine that was some kind of monster, a vamp or something,” Jody says angrily. Her voice wavers so briefly Dean wonders if he’s imagining it. “We wouldn’t even know where to look for you two. You’d be dead before we ever figured out you weren’t on your way home.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Claire and Jack look at each other again.

“We’re sorry,” Jack says quietly.

“Yeah.” Claire’s voice is so low Dean almost misses it. “Yeah, we’re sorry.”

“You’ll be more careful next time?” Dean says.

They both nod.

“And you’ll have the sense to tell us before you start a new hunt?” Jody says with a layer of exhaustion. “I mean, come on, Claire, you know better than that.”

Claire looks down at her lap. “I know.”

Jody and Dean glance at each other, and then at the kids. They let them stew in the guilt for another moment. And then Jody says, “Well, that’s enough of that. Claire, we’re heading home. You two are benched for the next couple weeks.”

“What?” She says incredulously. “That’s so unfair! I’m an adult, you—”

“Don’t argue.”

“But—”

“Claire.”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. Dean has the sneaking suspicion the conversation isn’t over. “Fine. Fine, whatever.”

And then Jack looks at Dean. He seems nervous, and Dean knows exactly why. “And are we... are we going home?”

“Oh, we’re going home, alright,” Dean says. “Your dad just got back. I’m sure he’s going to be very interested in hearing about all this.”

“Please, don’t tell Cas,” Jack says anxiously.

Dean laughs. “No way, kid. You’re just lucky I haven’t told him yet—you think he’d go as easy on you as I have?”

Jack sighs. “I guess you’re right.”

“I am.” Dean looks between him and Claire again, and can’t help but crack a smile. “Y’know, you two are still in trouble, but I know what it’s like to be hunting young like this. I got arrested plenty of times—mistakes happen. Just… like we said, just be more careful, alright? And tell us where the hell you’re going.” He looks right at Jack and levels his best disapproving look at him. “I don’t pay for your phone for you not to use it.”

The kids both nod again. Beneath all his frustration, Dean is struck by how much they look like Cas, how much they remind him of himself and Sam as kids, and the affection is so strong it almost knocks the wind out of him.

Fortunately, Jody’s a stronger person. Her Mom Look is truly frightening as she casts it at them both one last time. “Come on. Time for the grounding of the century to start.”

Claire rolls her eyes. Jack frowns and looks down at his cast.

God, these kids are gonna be the death of Dean.