#like the difference between those photos and the ones on my phone can’t even compare

[magicianparrish]

My best friend brought a film camera to pride this year and you know what, I’m firmly in the camp of we need to bring back developed film photos again because digital photos from your phone just don’t hold a candle to them

[clockwayswrites]

Masked in Amity

CW: Sam doesn't come off great in this, but not Sam bashing. She just has a lot of growing up to do still and knee jerk reacts badly. (I also don't want to listen to any Sam bashing please and ty.)

Sam’s room still looked the same as always. Danny supposed that’s what happened when someone moved out for college but still came home again— especially to a home like Sam’s. There were only a few posters, a few photos, and a knickknack or two that had changed between high school and now. Danny sat on the edge of the bed like always.

“So how’s school doing?” Danny asked into the awkward silence. Silences never used to be awkward between them, or was that just looking back with rose colored glasses?

“Ugh,” Sam gripped and flopped back onto her bed next to Danny. “Why would you even ask me that? You know I hate it.”

“Because it’s what you’re doing right now? It’s a huge part of your life, you can’t just… avoid it.”

“Watch me,” Sam said, bitterly. Her snarled lips looked weird without the dark purple lipstick. “I’m going to get my stupid law degree my parents are paying for and work at some stupid corporate firm Dad has connections at and when my trust fund has made enough in interest I’m going to quite and go open a non-profit and sue all those fuckers I was forced to work for over how they’ve fucked up the environment.”

“Okay,” Danny said. He didn’t want to argue about this. He just hoped this plan worked better than the last three Sam had had before her privilege knocked her down a peg.

“Can I ask about, I don’t know, your time in Chicago at least?”

“Chicago is amazing,” Sam said, wistfully. “Being in Chicago, I mean, I’m sure you know how it is, it really makes it clear how backwater Amity Park is. The things people worry about here are so small compared to what’s out there!”

Danny just hummed in response. He didn’t exactly know what to say to that. It didn’t feel completely wrong, but it wasn’t right either. Worries weren’t a competition like that.

“And the bands!” Sam continued, thankfully changing the topic. “I have got to see so many amazing bands. The local scene alone is amazing and no one knows about them so you can be right up close and a lot of times even talk to the band after. You should come for a show sometime.”

“I can try to,” Danny said. Sam’s music wasn’t usually his thing, but something like that might be fun. It would be different at least. Danny gave her a little smile. “Maybe Tucker could make it out too.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You know he won’t. When was the last time you talked to him not on the computer or the phone? He’s only here at Christmas when you aren’t.”

“You know how I feel about Christmas, Sam,” Danny said, holding back a sigh. Sure Tucker had been busy lately and that had made him more distant, but he was still one of their trio. “And if we plan something then Tucker can schedule for it. Don’t count him out just because he’s busy.”

“Alright, fine, we can plan something for a bigger show with Tucker,” Sam agreed, “but you still need to come out to something local. They’re really better anyways. We’ll go out to eat first and hit up a bar or three after. I know some really great places— places like you’ve never seen.”

Sam reached up and wrapped her hands around Danny’s neck, pulling him down a little. “It can be a date.”

Something in Danny balked at that. It was an innocent enough comment. Sam and him had dated and then not and then dated again or just had fun together. They’d known each other so long that it was easy to just ebb and flow out of the different levels of a relationship like that.

This time, though, Danny found himself resisting the tide. “Or we can just hang out.”

The almost dreamy smile Sam had crumpled into a frown. “What? I mean, sure, it can, but why? Are you seeing someone?”

“Yes? No? I mean, I’ve been… sleeping with someone, but we’re not dating or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said easily. “I’m not going to make you be exclusive. I don’t want to be either right now; we’re not around each other enough for that and You know that I’ve been sleeping with my roommate sometimes and I’ve met a cute person in study group now too with amazing fingers.”

“No, I know, just…” Danny gave a frustrated noise. Nightwing and him weren’t even close to being exclusive. Someone like Nightwing could have anyone they wanted and with how much he liked sex, Danny was pretty sure Nightwing did have whoever he wanted. Danny was just… convenient for the hero side and Danny didn’t begrudge the other that. It was convenient for Danny too. It was just…

Danny didn’t want to keep living the same cycle with Sam where he was her world for a few weeks or months and then just back to an occasional phone call. He didn’t want to keep being pulled back to Amity Park. Maybe meeting her in Chicago would be different enough, but Sam was still so tied to Amity and always would be by her parent’s money.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” Danny said slowly, feeling the words out as he said them. “Maybe it’s time just to leave us dating in the past?”

Sam dropped her hands and sat up. “Excuse me?”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just, we’ve tried being together in a lot of different ways and we always end up in the same place.”

“So you want to leave me in the past?”

“No!” Danny said quickly, trying to get ahead of this before Sam spiraled too badly from making assumptions. “I’d love to come to Chicago and see a band with you! Just… not as a date.”

“Because you want to leave that in the past,” Sam snapped and got up off the bed.

Danny scrambled off also.

“That’s not a bad thing. I enjoyed it and I know you did too. Just more, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best phrase? I mean maybe we shouldn’t go down that road again when we know where it’s going to end.”

Sam crossed her arms. That was never a good sign. “Right, because I’m always going to be a dead end, is that it? Not like you who’s off playing hero with the big names?”

“What? What does me being a Titan have to do with this?”

“Don’t play dumb, Danny, we both know you’re not. You left to go be a famous hero and hardly looked back at Amity Park or me or Tucker or your parents. What if the town needed you?”

Danny threw his hands up in the air. “Why would they need me? I destroyed the portal, came to an agreement with Vlad, made sure my parents couldn’t build another working one— it fixed everything!”

“And then left.”

“So I could help other people!”

“Sure it wasn’t so that you could be famous?”

Danny closed his mouth with a clack.

Sam winced at her own words. “Danny…”

“No.” Danny backed up a few steps from her. “No. You don’t get to— you of all people don’t get to come at me like that! I never wanted to be a hero, Sam! You’re the one who said I needed to protect Amity and you were right, sure, but it’s never what I wanted! You wanted it!”

“Danny, no—” Sam reached out for him and Danny stepped back again, hitting the wall.

“Yes you did, Sam! You did or I never would have had to die a second time after your wish! I lost everything again! I don’t have a future like you and Tucker, I just have being a hero. I just have being dead.”

“Come on Danny,” Sam tried. She moved close again, slowly, like Danny was some sort of feral animal.

Maybe he really was just a caged beast.

“I’m just— I better go. I’m just going to go,” Danny said. In a flash of light he was back to being Phantom. He let himself tip back and phase through the wall.

As he left Amity Park behind, he couldn’t help but think it really said something that he was far more comfortable being Phantom these day than Danny.

--

AN: Here's yous all voted on treat for the day! This comes before Danny showing up at Dick's door, quite upset.

[mountingpulisic]

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

your dad was going to disown you.

your dad was going to kill you.

you’ve done something stupid, so incredibly stupid.

you slept with the enemy, a midfielder on manchester city’s longest running rival team, chelsea. this was a horrible look, the coach's daughter shacking up with their biggest competitor.

it started out as just a typical girl's night out, however after one too many drinks had entered your system and you found yourself in bed with the infamous number nineteen.

“love, there is nothing more i want than to be in-between those gorgeous legs.” he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet ringing through your ears. you smirk softly at the gorgeous man in-front of you, whispering softly into his ear.

“what’s stopping you?”

sitting up ever so quietly, clutching the sheets to your bare chest, you softly peaked over at the sleeping brunette. soft snores escaping his mouth, as the sheets barely covered his mid drift.

if you weren’t mentally planning for your funeral, you’d admire him a little longer. if you weren’t mentally planning your funeral, you’ve would’ve high fived yourself for bagging such a nice piece of ass.

scanning the unfamiliar room, you failed to locate any of your clothing. mind replaying last night's events to remember where you could’ve possibly left your belongings, you instantly blushed.

“mason, wait, you can’t rip this dress, it’s my sister’s. she’ll kill me.” you explain almost breathless as mason hands hungrily explore your body that was pressed up against his front door, wet kisses trailing down your neck.

“love, i don’t give a damn about this dress. i just need you naked. now.” he states, pulling back from kissing your neck to properly look at you. you stare into his lust filled eyes, taking a mental note of how much darker they look compared to when you first met him that night. mason carefully lets you down and assist you into taking off your sister’s dress, placing it carefully on the couch as you guys resume where you left off.

“i’m such a whore.” you muffle loudly into the sheets as you fall forward. you weren’t usually the one to partake in one night stand, having opted out for having meaningful relationships with men before you slept with them. however, mason was different, so different. he charmed his way into your pants, quite literally.

“oh baby girl, how would daddy feel knowing his princess is taking me so well?” he panted, hips grinding into you at a delicate pace.

“if you keep frowning, you’re going to get premature wrinkles.” mason spoke, yawning softly before shifting up to sit beside you.

“i can’t stop frowning, mount. my life is over.” you muffle into the sheets again. you feel mason’s fingers softly caress your back, pressing soft kisses to your bare shoulder blades.

“love, i didn’t think i was that bad.” he softly chuckles, scooting closer to you snaking an arm around your waist pulling you towards him.

“no, it’s not you. god, it’s not you. it’s me.” you say, turning your head to meet his soft gaze. his eyebrows furrow together, confused.

“why does it sound like you are breaking up with me? i haven’t even properly asked you on a date?”

your heart fluttered at the thought of him asking you on a date, assuming naturally this one was a one time thing after all. your eyes met his as he gives you a sweet smile. you were in a daze, this man couldn’t possibly be real.

“you wanna take me on a date?” you ask shyly, hands tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

before mason could answer, the phone placed on his nightstand began ringing loudly, displaying a photo of your dad.

“oh my gosh, he is going to kill me!”

[hcsiqs]

| ALL THE TIME

series masterlist

“Let’s just get this over with,” Lia rolled her eyes, snapping a picture of her’s and KK’s drinks beside each other with two little white heart emojis. The plan was to take a soft launch-ish photo and post it to her story then they would go live on KK’s TikTok once they got back to the athlete’s dorms.

All of the other girls on the team had been made aware of the plan and what was set up between the two, so when Lia randomly showed up to their dorms they weren’t shocked.

“We’re gonna go live,” KK said to the girls who were sitting in the living room, her tone was much different compared to how Lia had seen her through clips of her on live and videos of her joking around with Paige or Ice. Her voice was dull, showing her complete disinterest in having to put on this show for people. KK then set her phone up, Aurelia being out of shot at first as she talked to Ice about something random, and once people started coming through the comment section of the live, her personality did a complete 180, “What’s up girly pops!” she beamed at the phone screen. “So, I gotta special guest for y’all,” a laugh left her lips as her arm reached over to Lia, who wasn’t really paying attention. She snaked her arm around Lia’s waist as she brought her into view, her hand laying against the other girl’s waist a little too long on purpose.

“I know right–,” she stopped mid sentence with Ice as she noticed the camera, “Oh hi guys!” She smiled waving at the phone as comments went crazy about Lia being there with the UConn girls, several catching on to the way KK’s hand was still firmly placed on Aurelia’s hip.

Throughout the live stream both KK and Lia kept contact with one another, even when it wasn’t needed, which was most of the time, just so that the fans would start to speculate something between the two and then KK said something that made the comments go crazy.

“Can you hand me my coffee?” she asked Aurelia, who was off camera. Lia nodded her head and handed over the coffee before coming to frame with her own coffee in hand. All the comments started talking about what Lia had posted on her story only an hour earlier, most people putting the dots together, while others yelled at those saying that stuff and claiming the two were just friends.

They stayed on live for a couple more minutes before Lia looks at the time and realizes she should probably head home, “Hey I gotta go,” she tells everyone and KK immediately looks up at her before going back to her phone and waving bye to everyone watching before ending the live. “KK,” Lia nudged her head to the door, signaling for her to walk with her. KK just nodded her head before following Lia to the door. “I think we should come up with like rules for this or whatever.”

“Girl, rules?” she crossed her arms over her body, leaning against the wall, “You really know how to take the fun outta stuff.”

“Yes, rules. This can’t get messy or it’ll ruin everything,” Lia stated, her voice filled with annoyance as she looked at the girl in front of her.

“Fine, what rules do you want?” the basketball player asked, shoving herself off the wall so that she stood directly in front of Lia.

“I mean, I don’t know yet,” she replied before taking a sip of her coffee, “Why don’t you just come over to mine for dinner and we both come with rules we think would be good, then we can discuss them and see if we agree?”

“Well I’m not gonna have any rules,” she shrugged.

“Come up with some then. It’ll be a good way to set boundaries,” Lia nodded her head, almost like she was confirming it with herself. KK stayed silent as she just stared at Lia annoyed, “Ok! I’ll send you my address and you can come over at 6? Pizza ok?” the blonde asked, playing with the ends of her hair.

“Mhm,” KK hummed, “See you.”

“Bye,” Lia replied with a slight roll of her eyes before she left the dorms.

She didn’t understand why KK had to be so pissed about this whole thing. Obviously she didn’t want to be doing this either, but they both might as well try to make the best out of the situation.

Six o’clock rolled around a lot sooner than Aurelia had anticipated. And she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to see the other girl for a second time today, when the first time hadn’t gone so smoothly. But nonetheless, she was going to try to be positive the entire time.

But as the minutes passed and the time rolled around to 6:30 and KK still wasn’t there she found herself growing annoyed. She knew KK had agreed to meet at six, and had even texted her multiple times to remind her that was the time they’d be meeting.

kk it’s 6:30 where r u??

Sorry i’m omw

And when Kamorea finally arrived at 7, an hour past the set time, Lia was pissed. How could she fake date someone if they don’t even care to be on time for shit?

“You’re an hour late,” Lia crossed her arms as she looked at KK who was on the other side of the door.

“I said I was sorry,” she said, pushing through the door and entering the apartment. “Nice place,” she commented before plopping down into a chair at the dining table and pulling a piece of pizza out.

Lia let out a breath as she tried to calm herself, so she wouldn’t start yelling at the brunette for her being blatantly rude to her. She then went and sat down across from KK as she pulled out her phone and opened the notes app.

“You made a list?” KK eyed the girl's phone as she sat the piece of pizza back down.

“I told you I was going to. Did you make one or is that just another thing you decided to not listen to?” Lia asked, a cold smile on her lips as she cocked her head to the side.

“I didn’t think you’d be so serious about this shit,” she shook her head.

“Well, I am,” the blonde replied before opening the note that was labeled “RULES” at the top. “Ok, the first thing I came up with was if we want to see other people during this then we need to tell the other person, so if someone sees us we will be able to have an excuse. And that brings me to my next point, if we do see other people try to do it somewhere not public, so we won’t have to run into ‘cheating’ issues or whatever,” Lia finished saying her first two before looking up at KK to give her the go ahead to start.

“Right, yeah, and when I see other people you can’t get jealous,” KK said, clearly just having made it up on the spot.

“And the same goes for you. You can’t get jealous if I see other people,” the blonde shrugged before typing down a new rule.

“I’d never get jealous of you with someone else,” she scoffed.

“And I wouldn’t be jealous of you with someone,” Lia smiled, but it wasn’t in a sweet or kind way, more in a ‘I can’t wait to have this be done with’ way. “No kissing.”

“How are people gonna believe we’re together if I can’t kiss you?” she asked, her brows knitted together in confusion.

“You can hold my hand or put your arm around me,” Lia shrugged, “I just think no kissing would be for the best, so no one’s feelings get confused.”

“I could never like you like that.”

“Trust, the feelings mutual,” Lia replied before listing off some more of the rules before getting down to the last one, “And finally no catching real feelings.”

“That’ll be easy,” KK responded, finishing another piece of pizza.

“Yeah, I’d have to agree,” Lia nodded, “Ok that’s everything. I’ll share the note with you so you can have access to it.”

“Ok,” KK replied, “I’ll text you when we go out or something so you can join.”

“Sounds good.”

[butwhyduh]

Dead Clown 🤡

Jason todd x reader

Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.

Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.

The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.

“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”

“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.

“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.

“On the way.”

Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.

Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.

Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.

“Did you see who shot him?”

“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.

“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.

“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“

“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.

“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.

“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.

——————————

“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.

“How long? How long until you get results?”

“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”

Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.

“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.

“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.

———————————

Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.

He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.

Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.

It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.

“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.

“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.

“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.

“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.

“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?

Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.

“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.

“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.

“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”

You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”

Jason gasped a little before laughing.

“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.

He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.

Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.

“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.

“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.

Jason’s phone rang.

He gave you an apologetic look before answering.

“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.

——————————

Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.

“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”

Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.

“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”

A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”

“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.

Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”

“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.

“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”

“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.

The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??

“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.

“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.

“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.

“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”

Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.

“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.

——————————

Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.

Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.

He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.

You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.

“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”

“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.

“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.

“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.

“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.

“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.

“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”

“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.

You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.

“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.

“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.

“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.

“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.

“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.

“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.

“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.

[therealpussybangs]

When you find out the Haikyuu boys cheated.. Pt. 2

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Starring:    Timeskip!Aone, Goshiki, Kita, Lev                                                          

A/N- Tw: Cheating, crying, yelling, fighting, mentions of sexual-    intercourse, swearing, please let me know if i missed anything!!  

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Aone-

                Today was supposed to be your 4th year anniversary with your amazing boyfriend Aone. However, that date idea had quickly turned to shit when you see your boyfriend at a booth with some other chick.

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, because you were exceptionally early to this date, so you walk over, hoping it was a sister or some other relative. 

But when you finally made it over to the table, your boyfriend looked like he had seen a ghost. Pale, scared, and he looked sick. The thing that hurt the most was the guilt swimming in his eyes. Eyes that were once only for you. Eyes that were always warm and welcoming, the eyes that felt like home. His once beautiful and bright eyes were now dulled, guilty and scared.

Aone felt like he couldn’t move. He was stuck in his chair when he saw you. 

‘Our date isn’t for another 20 minutes... how could this happen...?’ He thinks to himself. Then he remembers what you had said earlier about being early for the special today. He curses under his breath and opens his mouth to make excuses, but that’s when he hears a sniffle.

He reluctantly looks up to see you crying, and swiping at your eyes wildly. His heart shatters and sinks to the floor and he immediately knows he shouldn’t lie, it’ll only make it worse.

“Baby i’m so sorry....” He looks down, not ready to hear your reply.                     “Was i not good enough..? What should I have done differently..?” You say in a small, hurt voice.

“No! I-” He was cut off by the other girl sitting in front of him.

“Bubs who’s this ugly little girl? She a friend of yours? Or what..she kinda smells a little..” She says in a squeaky, bratty voice.

“Oh, haha; i’m actually his soon to be ex-girlfriend! So nice to meet you!! And so nice to leave you ‘bubs’!” You say with a fake smile, and filled with sarcasm. 

“Babe- do-” Aone started quietly, he always was so quiet and reserved. But he seemed so talkative with this new girl....

“By Aone! Bye bitch I don’t know!” You say oh so confidently, until you go to itch your eyes. ‘oh... tears..’ You began to cry harder as you realize you just left the one thing you loved most.

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Goshiki-

 You and Tsutomu had been pretty distant after a fight you two had, and you wanted to go over and apologize to him because you realized you were in the wrong. 

However, what you did not expect was to see another car parked outside of your shared home.

This fight you both had was because of some silly coworker jokingly hitting on you. You had known this person since you were little, so it was nothing new. They were also fully aware of the fact that you were in a committed relationship with Tsutomu. 

So, who could be at his house? Was he really hurt enough to call a friend or relative for help/advice? Now you felt really bad, so you quickly make your way up the steps to your shared home and push past the door. 

What you did not expect to hear, were muffled whimpers and Goshiki’s smooth, calming voice. ‘Wh-what?’ You think maybe it was something else, maybe it was Goshiki whimpering and sniffling and someone else sweet talking him. But once you walk into your bedroom....you shut down.

“B..baby,,?” You ask, voice small. You were shaking and trying your best to keep your cool and hold back the tears threatening to spill. “Whats going on..?”

Goshiki immediately whips his head around from where it was buried between someone elses thighs. But when he sees your hurt eyes and sad features guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach. He was with someone else, on your shared bed, in your shared home. This realization suddenly hit him like a brick, and he immediately shot straight up. “I-I can explain!!” 

“Explain what? The fact you were pleasuring some random whore on our bed?? What else is there to explain Tsut- Goshiki?” You yell back, the tears from before finally breaking the barrier and streaming down your face.

Goshiki just stood there, shaken up and regretful, not daring to say a word, knowing it will make things worse. But you persisted and asked him again why he did it and he started to get annoyed with your yelling. “I was angry with your stupid fucking co-worker for flirting with you and smacking your ass and always eating lunch with you!! I wanted you to know how it felt!!” He yelled back, without thinking. Bad idea.

You were speechless to say the least. He did not just compare cheating to harmless banter between friends...did he? He didn’t just call your absolute bestfriend stupid...did he?

“Get out. Both of you.” You say, your tone stone cold.

“What..” Your ex says, his voice small and shaky, almost as if it was any louder it would shatter you.

“GET OUT!! NOW!!” You say, now yelling as warm, fat tears stream down your face. You were furious, deflated, tired, and so, so done. You thought you were going to be sick. You had trusted him, and here he was, with a beautiful woman, probably 10x better than you. And to think you were going to apologize to him.

“Baby... we can fix this! right? Move forward!” He says, not so confident or angry this time.

“What, so you can go off with some other bitch as soon as the going gets tough again? No. We’re over. Goodbye Goshiki, please don’t try to contact me, i’ll have someone come get my stuff.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out of the place you one called home. 

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Kita-

Kita was a simple man. He wanted 2 things in life: A family with you, and his rice fields to do well.

However he did not take it very well when you said you were not ready for a family, and he stormed out on you. That night you cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could be better.

The past month and a half, you and Kita have been pretty distant, and you have been preparing yourself for a family in any way you can. For example: Finishing the last of your extra studies, learning how to make extra delicious meals, even though Kita wasn’t ever there to try them, and you even started looking into parenting books. You just wanted to be the perfect wife for him.

So one day you waited for him to come home, ready to tell him the big news; you were ready to start a family. So when he finally got back, you told him!

“Babe! I think i’m ready for a family! With you!” You said happily and confidently. But when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, you didn’t expect them to also be oh so regretful.

“Y-you are..?” He asks, suddenly shaking. His stomach drops to the floor while his heart breaks simultaneously. You... you prepared yourself all on your own, just for him. And he knows he fucked up, getting some other girl pregnant, but he was so angry and sad he just.... it just... happened.

Just then, he gets a call, from the one person he really did not want to talk to. The other woman he got pregnant. He was so scared to pick up the phone, so you did. He froze. ‘No..! You cant pick that up...it will ruin us..’

“Hey! Shin! The baby just kicked! I hope its a girl.... Shin..?” The girl says on the other end, happy and excited.

“wh..what?” You say, confused. “Who are you..?”

“I’m his girlfriend! Who are you silly?” She says, still bubbly.

“I-” You start, and then hang up. It could not be. He did not get another woman pregnant, he was your baby, no one else...right? You slowly look over to Kita, hoping you didn’t just hear what you think you did.

He looks down, guilt and shame washing over his built figure.

“I’m so sorry... it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did and I can’t just leave her by herself..” He says, voice gradually getting louder.

“So.. you couldn’t just wait a little longer huh...it’s okay, I hope you two will be happy.” You walked away after that, and just then was when Kita realized he was loosing you. He panicked, and reached out for your hand, but you were already gone, into the bedroom you both shared, presumably packing.

But it’s when he sees you walk out the door, tears streaming down your face, and sobs wracking you body, that reality finally shifted. You were leaving, and he was now responsible for a child that wasn’t yours. He was mortified to say  the least.

“Bye Shin, i’ll always love you y’know.. I hope your child is as beautiful as you.”

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Lev-

Today was your birthday! And you were so excited to spend it with your beanpole boyfriend! But he hadn’t answered your texts yet, and your calls either. You understood he had a photo-shoot, but it was over hours ago, even his manager didn’t know where he was. So you decided to check his snapmap because you were genuinely worried??

But when you saw his bitmoji at an unrecognized address, you freaked out and drove there immediately.

When you got there, his car was parked in the driveway, and the lights were on inside. You could also hear the faint hum of soft music. 

Lev was always so gentle with you, and he never raised hid voice or got angry with you. You loved that about him, how soft he was. When you guys first met, he was willing to take things slow, and wait until you were both comfortable with eachother. 

He was always so patient, or so you thought. You weren’t ready for anything intimate other than kissing, and he said he was okay with that. But horny men will be horny men. 

But you at least thought he could wait a little longer for you, his girlfriend of 11 months. At least those were the thoughts that flew through your head as you walked into the mystery house.

It was Lev, laid out on a bed with silk sheets, rose petals scattered everywhere, and Champaign on the nightstand next to him. 

Well, more like next to the other woman in bed with him, dressed in red lacy lingerie and pretty makeup. The candle-light makes them both look so majestic, well they would if they both didn’t have shocked/guilty expressions on their faces. 

Lev got up immediately and tried to grab your arm, but you shrugged him off.

“I trusted you, and I loved you, I still love you! But here you are, with another woman, on my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me i guess.”

He stood there dumbfounded as you walked out, your confident facade breaking as tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Then, you drive away, knowing things will never be the same...

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Annnnnd it’s finally out! Not proofread i’m sorry </3 Kita’s hurt the most smh

ALSOOOO don’t forget you are fucking gorgeous and ilysm pls take care of your gorgeous self!

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[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Aaron Hotchner / Worth Your While

Prompts: The Beard Hotch Fic™ - inspired by that one episode where hotch has a beard and all of us collectively lost our minds 

Word count: 3.728

Warnings: E, phone sex, mutual masturbation, beard kink (i guess that’s a thing??), oral (f receiving), i don’t know just smut

Image Credit: @agenthotchner​

“Still don’t know when you’re coming back?” 

A sigh floated through the phone, “Not yet,” you hum, climbing into bed on top of your covers, your legs folded underneath you. You hear his cot creak underneath him. You hummed, as you placed your pillow beside you, if you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine that he was lying there beside you. 

“Enjoying the hot Pakistani desert a bit too much, Hotch?” a small chuckle leaves his throat, voice gruff over the line. 

“I would enjoy it a lot more if you and Jack were with me,” your chest aches at the sound of the weariness in his voice. He was so tired — and now you couldn’t even take care of him. Another sigh leaves his lips, before he adds, a ghost of a laugh in his voice,  “although he’s not a fan of the beard.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “Really?” 

“His exact words were, ���do they not sell razors there, Dad?’” you snort, turning onto your side, “I think I’m going to shave it off before I get back.” 

“Ah let’s not rush it,” you bit your lip, running your fingers over your bare neck, “why don’t we ask for some other opinions before we jump to conclusions?” 

You could practically hear his eyebrow raise over the phone, “And what’s your opinion, sweetheart?” his voice is low and scratchy, and you can almost imagine his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear as he murmured the question against your neck. 

You feel a heat begin to climb up your neck, and down your body, “I don’t think you should shave,” 

“You don’t think?” he presses, and you hear the cot groan again as he shifts, “or I shouldn’t?”

“You shouldn’t,” you swallowed, fingers drifting down to the waistband of your shorts, “not until you see me again.” 

“And what are you going to do when you see me again?” you whimper, fingers past the elastic of your shorts, your fingers drift against your soaked panties, “answer me.” You gasp his name as your fingers circle your clit, “are you touching yourself?” 

“Yes,” you say, breath uneven as he shifts in his cot again, more this time, “I need you, Aaron, I—” 

“Call me on video call,” he hisses, and you know his fingers are around his length, the video call feed only confirming it, “see what you do to me,” his pants are gruff and short, “show me what you’re doing.” You flip the camera from your face to the middle of your thighs, your hand hidden beneath the fabric of your obviously drenched underwear, “Pull those off, I want to see you. I want to see exactly what I’m doing to you.” 

Your underwear slides down your thighs, slowly, as you lift your hips for the camera. And his breath hitches when he sees you — soaking wet and two fingers deep in your pussy, “Aaron, fuck, I miss you—” 

“What do you miss?” there’s an edge to his voice, an urgency, but still, his voice is hushed and quiet, tension thrumming in the air, “tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

“Is that an order, sir?” and you hear him groan quietly over the phone that hangs in the silence of the desert. 

“Fuck, yes, it is,” he growls, and he hears a quiet hum leave your throat, and he knows you’re enjoying this — all too much, but not as much as if he were actually there. If he had two thick fingers pressed inside of you. His mouth swallowing all the little noises leaving your throat, until his lips sucked dark bruises against the hollow of your throat. 

“I would want you to pin me down, your fingers parting my thighs,” quick gasps part your lips, filling the silence of his tent, and you wonder — could someone hear you if you were just a little too loud? Could a colleague hear your desperate cries of his name, you begging him for his cock, his mouth, his fingers — anything, “feel your beard against my thighs as you wrap your tongue around my clit, fingers inside me, like mine are now—” Your fingers sink deeper, adding another with a loud gasp, your hips rolling against your hand, “and I’d cum all over your face.” His beard slick with your cum, as he kisses you again, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. 

“Then, you want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?” a helpless whine parts your throat at his words, low and sharp, “But still, I’d sink into you, slowly, let you feel every inch of myself part you — wet and tight — for me.” 

You arch your back against your bed, Only for him. 

“Aaron, please, I need to see you — see your face—” You’re close — he doesn’t need to see your face to know that. And you know he hears it — hears you preen against you, and in the quiet silence of your bedroom, and his hand squeezes his cock. Fuck, and he abides by your request — shows you his face contorted in quietly controlled pleasure, his teeth against his bottom lip, until he hears you. 

“Aaron, I’m—” he groans, far too loud for the quiet desert and conscious colleagues that surrounded him. But it only further pushes you over the edge, thinking about that groan in your ear, pressing kisses against your neck, fucking you hard and fast until your walls tighten around your fingers, phone falling from your hand. But not before you hear him say your name, reverent and breathy.

Your fingers begin to still, the feeling of your fingers carrying you through your orgasm, chest rising and falling in quick pants. Your body slumps against your mattress, boneless, eyes squeezed shut. That is, until you hear a voice on the phone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, reaching for the phone, “sorry, did you say something?” 

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice deep and blissed out — and you can almost feel the words of love vibrate against your skin, “I miss you, so much.” 

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder?” you offer, flipping the camera so he could see your face, “but phone sex definitely helps.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, “It does, but it’s not enough.” 

“No, nothing compares to the real thing,” you sigh, rolling over on your bed, “but luckily, the real thing is waiting for you when you get back,” and then you add, “Just don’t shave the beard.” 

He runs a hand through his beard, “Yes ma’am. You’ll make it worth my while?” 

You grin, tilting your head, “Don’t I always?” 

~~~

Hotch leaned against the headrest of the airplane seat, stuffed between two sleeping passengers — this was certainly different than using the jet. Not that he was complaining — he needed to get back. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the arm rests. 

Ian Doyle. That was a name he had spent several months trying to forget. The events of what happened still haunted him, but even more than that, the lies he had to tell the team wore away at him. Guilt gnawed at his insides, a pit in his stomach that he was sure would give way. 

He had to do it. He had no choice. He was the team’s leader. He had to make the hard decisions. He had to bear the burden. But he only wished he didn’t have to do it at the team’s expense. 

He rubbed at his eyes. Watching them cry and mourn, listening to them grieve right in front of him, as he evaluated each of them for field work — it had killed him. And now it would all come out. Prentiss was alive. And they had kept it from them. He had kept it from them. 

But there was no use thinking about the fallout. Not when he was on a plane miles away from its destination still. No, he needed to think about something else. 

He glanced at his phone, smiling at the picture of you and Jack smiling back at him. He remembered the day they had taken that photo. It was your first time spending time with Jack. He never met someone who clicked so easily with Jack — after everything that had happened with Haley, Jack was a little quieter, a little more reserved (not so dissimilar to himself, you had pointed out to him). But with you, it was different. He would smile. He would laugh. He understood. He knew you and you knew him. And he was so grateful for that. 

And he was so grateful for you. 

His fingers rubbed at his chin, still prickly with his beard. He had kept his promise — he had kept it for you. Even though Jack would be less than pleased. He would be staying with Jessica either way while he dealt with the situation at hand. He wouldn’t be getting much sleep the next few days — he knew that for sure. But even so, the prospect of seeing you soon made his chest feel a little lighter. No longer would date night consist of a hurried dinner and possible phone sex. Now, he could hold you, he could touch you, and he could fall asleep to your quiet breaths, instead of to a far too hot desert and a lonely cot. 

And the best part? He hadn’t told you that he was coming back yet. And he didn’t think he was going to, until he was at your doorstep. 

~~~

“How was work today?” Hotch gave a heavy sigh over the phone, and you put down the bowl of dough you had been stirring, “Aaron?” 

“It was a hard day,” he cleared his throat, “we saved a kid, but he saw his father die in front of him.” 

“Aaron,” you wished you could touch him, could comfort him, no words were enough for times like this, “you couldn’t have done anything more. You saved his life.” 

“I know, I just—” he clicked his tongue, “I just wish it didn’t turn out that way.” 

“And that’s why you’re one of the good guys,” you smile at your phone, “and that’s why you can’t let it eat away at you — you still have your own little boy to come home too. Not to mention, your very patient girlfriend.” 

He laughed, a soft noise that made your heart stutter in its chest, “You have been very patient, haven’t you?” 

“I have,” you hummed, perking up at the tone of his voice — appreciative and teasing — “got something to reward me with?” 

“I actually might,” and you bit your lip, “but you’ll have to do me a favor.” 

“This is my reward, and I have to do you a favor?” you clicked your tongue, “doesn’t seem very fair, Agent Hotchner.” 

“I know all about fairness, sweetheart. After all, I did study it in law school,” you could almost see him shaking his head, a smile dancing across his lips, “I just need you to open your door.” 

“Open my door?” you wiped your hands clean, before grabbing the phone off the counter, making your way to your door. You spotted the back of someone’s head through the peephole. Locks clicking as you undid the lock and the deadbolt, you held the phone between your shoulder and your cheek,  “Aaron Hotchner, did you order me dinner again? Because I told you I already—” 

You gasped, your phone clattering against your hardwood floors. Aaron stood, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he tilted his head, “No, but I did bring dessert.” 

“Aaron!” you ran into his arms, hands on his shoulders, face buried in his chest, “I can’t believe this. You’re back. You’re here.” 

“I am,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, “and I’m not going anywhere now.” 

You pulled away, “You’re back for good?” and he nods, as your fingers cup his face, thumbs running over his cheeks, and you note the bristle underneath your fingertips, “and I see you kept your promise.” 

“Of course, I’m a man of my word,” he breaths, leaning closer as your breath hitches, his lips pressing against yours. It had been months, and you had nearly forgotten how he tasted, lips moving firmly against your own. His teeth grazed your lip, as he eagerly swallowed your moan, as your hands tangled themselves in his hair, walking backwards, as he shut the door with his foot, “I missed you so much,” he says in between kisses that stole the air from your lungs. 

Your hands pushed the jacket from his shoulders, “I missed you too,” his hands squeezed your hips, before his hands slipped your thighs, lifting you against him, as he carried you to your bedroom. No longer could you tell where you began and he ended, but you didn’t care — not when his teeth grazed against your pulse point like that. He had you pressed flush against your bedroom door, lips burning a trail of kisses down your neck, fingers toying with the straps of your camisole. 

“Take me to bed,” you whispered, and he did — placing you on your bed, and in a second, he was on top of you. 

Your fingers busied themselves with undoing the buttons on his button down, while his slid the hem of your camisole higher and higher. You undid the last button and the shirt slid off his shoulders, and he lifted his arms as you did away with the undershirt immediately. Your fingers traced over the broad expanse of his chest reverently, enjoying how his muscles reacted to your touch and how his breath stuttered his chest when your fingers grazed him. The same man who stayed calm under pressure crumbled under your touch. 

You raised your arms and he slipped the camisole from your body, groaning when he realized you had no bra on underneath. His fingers teased your nipples, mouth wrapped around one of them, “Aaron,” you arched your back into his touch, your fingers slipping between your bodies, trying to undo the button on his pants. His teeth grazed your nipple, soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue, “please,” 

You undo the button of his pants, and pull them down, helping him kick them off. He whispers your name, pressing a kiss to the skin between your breasts, before tucking fallen strands of hair behind your ear, “What do you want, baby?” 

Your eyes fall to the prominent bulge in his boxers, “Fuck me,” you look up at him, thumb brushing his lips, and he smiles, pressing another heated kiss to your lips. 

“Not before I taste you,” he says, voice husky, as he burns a trail of openmouthed kisses down your body, re-familiarizing himself with every curve and dip of your body, until the fire in the pit of your stomach all but engulfs you. He tugs your sleep shorts down, as you lift your hips to help him, kicking them off. His calloused hands part your thighs, as he settles between them. You watch him with lidded eyes, breath stuck somewhere in the back of your throat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the sight of your obviously soaked panties. You hiss as his beard scratches beautifully against your thighs, friction making you squirm, until his large palms steadied you. Fingers splayed over the soft skin of your inner thighs, his nose brushing far too close to your soaked center, as he kisses right below the waistband. 

“I had forgotten how good you smell,” he murmurs, another kiss, this time right on top of the wet spot on your panties. 

He spreads you wider, hips jumping as your heart does in your chest, when his fingers brush your slit through the thin fabric. He doesn’t remove them, no, instead, he slides the crotch aside placing you on full display for him, half wrapped in that silk fabric. You hiss when you feel his warm breath mingling with the cool air of the room. His tongue darts out across his lips, looking at you with half-lidded eyes, before leaning down to press a kiss to your warmth. 

His moan vibrates against you, a reverent noise of unrestrained passion and you know that this is just as much for him as it is for you, sending shivers down your spine of what’s to come.  A single finger begins to part your folds, as his mouth presses butterfly kisses all around your clit, his beard deliciously grazing against your thighs. And finally, he takes a single broad swipe up his tongue up the length of your weeping cunt. A gasp blooms into a moan, as your fingers grasp at him, traveling the length of his shoulders, until you are able to card your fingers through his dark strands. 

His tongue moves in tight circles, your muscles squeezing his thick finger, as keen against him, eager for more, more. As you always were for him, and only him. Desperate for his touch, even when he couldn’t provide it. His beard only stokes the fire coiling in your stomach, now burning against your cunt. 

The phone sex seemed like a distant memory, a cheap imitation of the real thing. Nothing, nothing could compare to his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his touch. Nothing could compare your fingers threaded through his hair, his moans quietly reverberating against your slick folds. Nothing could compare to him — the sweet man who had just come back after spending weeks away from his home, his family, his friends, his life — but he chose to spend this night with you. 

Another finger parts your folds, and a broken whine leaves your throat, as your head falls against your plush bed, “You take me so well, sweetheart,” he mutters, tongue flicking against your clit, as you lift your eyes to meet his gaze, “so good to me. So patient. So sweet.” 

And that’s when his mouth closes over your clit. Your hips rock against the flat palms of his hands, as his tongue flicks against it. And the coil in you snaps, his name a ghost upon your lips, a soundless scream on your lips. You feel him hum against you, far too pleased, but you barely notice, lost in your own high. But he does not relent, pulling your orgasm from you as his fingers scrape against your shuddering walls, tongue eagerly tasting all that you offer him. 

He drags himself back up to you, his hardness brushing the inside of your thigh. His fingers trace your jawline, as your eyelids flutter, watching his tongue dart across his chin, still glistening with your release. His lips quickly follow the paths scorched by his fingertips. His lips find yours again when your breaths are even, and even now you can’t get enough of him. 

You arch towards him, fingers sliding down his chest to the waistband of his boxers, “Sweetheart,” a strangled groan of your name on lips still sticky with your cum, and he stares at you, eyes black as the darkness that surrounds you, as you slide his boxers down finally. 

You both groan in tandem, as your fingers close around his length, flushed and weeping. His hips lean into your touch, the head of his cock brushing your folds. 

“Aaron,” you shake your head, “I need you.” 

“Where do you need me?” his voice barely above a rasp. He rips your hand from him, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He presses another kiss to your skittering heartbeat. 

“I need you to fuck me—” you gasp, as his teeth scrape against your neck, pressing soft kisses against its length, before sucking a pretty bruise against the hollow of your throat, “please.” 

He sinks into you then, sliding into your warmth, murmuring in your ear. Your mouth falls open, “Even after all this time, you take me so well,” his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, “I love you.” 

His name is a prayer, his touch is your salvation, as his nails dig crescents into the curve of your hips, “Missed you so much—” his own snap against you harder, deeper,  “needed you so bad. I love you. I love you.” 

“I want to feel you cum for me, sweetheart,” his fingers skim your clit, and that’s it. You come apart underneath him, veins no longer filled with blood, but with pleasure. His hips stutter as your muscles flutter around his cock, still fucking you through your orgasm, as his fingers make you jump against him, “Say my name,” he growls, as your arms wind around his shoulder, tugging him closer, closer, closer, “say it.” 

 And you do, just as he cums inside of you with a groan of your name in your ear, nearly collapsing on you. He presses into you, and it’s much too warm, the sticky heat and smell of sex pervades, but you don’t care. Still you tug him closer, chest to chest, as your eyes shut. You feel him come down from his high, his breath slowing. He pulls himself out, and your body mourns his absence. He curls up beside you for a moment, his finger drawing absentminded circles on your thigh. You look at him, a smile pulling at your lips as you find him staring at you. And you press kisses to him — to his shoulder and neck, your fingers sweeping his hair out of his eyes. 

But his gaze still persists, “What?” you ask softly, your fingers tracing his jaw, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your fingertips. 

“Should I keep the beard?” and you laugh, shaking your head, as you lay back on the pillow. 

“I think you should do whatever you want to do,” and he kisses you again, full and warm and happy, “and I think you should definitely take Jack’s opinion into mind.” 

He raises a brow, a smile on his lips, “Will you still make it worth my while?” 

You roll your eyes, fingers cupping his cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, “I will always make it worth your while.” 

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[writefightandflightclub]

End of the line (Santiago Garcia x GN! reader)

@autumnleaves1991-blog​ runs a fantasic # Writer Wednesday, and this week’s photo prompt sparked a lil idea! Of course I’m a day late, please forgive. The prompt is the photo below, and my response is a rather angsty Triple Frontier one-shot. This is different to my usual takes, so I’m so grateful for the prompt!

Summary: you are reaching the end of the line, and there’s only one person you want to pick up the phone to.

Word count: 2.4k, somehow

Rating: mature for themes of violence (18+ only)

Warnings: theme of reader being pursued / targeted; ongoing mentions of guns / gun violence (not graphic); reader injuries (not graphic); themes of character death; angst; vague mentions of past wrongdoing / implied illicit activities; theme of former lovers.

You run your fingers over your scathed knuckles and the bruises on your hands, flexing and opening your fingers and trying to work out niggles in your wrist that you doubt will ever truly leave you. You wince as the motion tugs on a spot which is particularly stiff, and a pain zips all the way up your forearm.

Your only consolation is that the other guy fared far worse.

Undoing all your attempts to unknot your taut muscles, your fists clench again as you hear the door to the dingy motel bar swing open to your right. Your head whips towards the newly-arrived patron and you tense, your hand twitching against the weapon concealed in your jacket. As it becomes clear the new arrival is an old, inebriated local and not a threat, you relax a shade; though not all the way.

You barely remember the last time you fully relaxed. You wish you could shake this state of hyper-vigilance. Eyes constantly sweeping the perimeter. Clocking every open-carry tucked into a belt, scoping every exit route, monitoring every micro-gesture and expression. But one slip now and it will cost you.

You bounce your leg under the table, filled with an onslaught of sadness that you can’t even enjoy a cup of coffee without the looming fear of retribution. Still, you are safe enough here for now, you assess. For at least one more night. At least, you hope. Certainty is a thing long-dead, just like your old life.

Your eyes flick out through the scummy window, reaching across the lot to the stretch of motel illuminated to your left. Not that there’s much to look at out there -snow and vehicles and the shitty exterior- but you are not looking at those things, after all. Your study is far more careful. You’ve been sat here long enough though to be sure that no-one is casing your room. No suspicious vehicles or individuals; at least - there are plenty of suspicious individuals, but none whom seem to have followed you here.

So, you allow yourself to shed one layer of worry, and you give your gaze permission to wander back to the only other thing you can see out there. The ominous looking phone box, stood directly in the path between your table and the window to your motel room. It glows in the dark like an illuminated angel, though you are not sure whether this signals it is a guardian or a traitor. Angels can be fickle things too.

Either way, the booth taunts you, like some dark harbinger or sentinel from a horror film, and, each time your eyes flick back to it, it seems to loom more prominent - even if that’s only because of the single, related thought which swells to the forefront of your mind.

Call him. It’s time to call him.

You promised yourself you would only call him as a last resort. If you had no other options remaining. If you were at the end of the line.

A nausea rolls in the pit of you when you realise that might be true. After so long on the run, you’ve called in every favour you were owed, exploited every scrap of intel you could, manipulated or paid-off every asset you could find to help you... And now there is no-one else left. No-one else left who owes you a favour. There is only the man who had once promised you he would always have your six. There is only the last person you want to ask for help, and the first person you want to see.

Santiago Garcia.

Your nausea turns to aching despair, and you wrap your hands around your cup of shitty coffee, reaching for some vestige of warmth, however faint. And yet, like everything else, it offers you little comfort. Indeed, you have lived without comfort for so long that you tell yourself you don’t need it, but as soon as memories of him flood you, you ache for the distant comfort of his arms.

Arms which will never encircle you again, you’re sure. Not since you’d been forced to compromise every ideal you’d once shared with the solider. Still, that was back in the days when things seemed a lot more black and white. When you still believed in good people and untarnished souls. When he still believed in you.

Your eyes flick once again to the boxy, mocking angel in the parking lot. Now you are sure it is fallen, and that it has come to drag you to hell.

Still, hell would be a relief, you think, compared to this. Compared to this vestige of a life.

Call him. It’s the end of the line.

You bounce your leg more furiously, your muscles tensing so hard they cramp as you think about the prospect. You used to carry his number on a little slip of paper in your top pocket. You’d long since memorised it, but it was the last thing he gave you - you suppose that’s why you couldn’t throw it away. Why you subconsciously kept it close to your heart.

If you ever needed him, he would be there. You knew it. Maybe you should have called him long ago, when things first went south. When you first pissed off the kinda man it wasn’t desirable to piss off. Maybe you would have, but then one thing after another kept happening, and the slow descent into hell began, one compromise and one mistake at a time. So, you called in every other favour rather than face him. Rather than having to explain how you’d let him down - become someone he could no longer believe in. Like a fallen angel.

Now, years had gone by.

Years on the run. Years of hyper-vigilance. Years that had taken their toll.

Now, you’re out of options. Out of money. Out of favours. You’re even out of burner phones until you can hitch a lift to the next town over.

So, the glowing phone box almost sings to you, as if it’s a siren luring you on to the rocks. As if it’s a magical item in a computer game and if you step into its circle of light you can have a new life. You can reset everything. Return to a prior save point.

You know exactly where you would go, if you could. Back to the last time your remember where you didn’t feel so alone. The last time you felt comfort.

You fumble some over-spilling tears from your cheeks and stand, pushing the chair back across the floor behind you with a harsh scrape. Then, with a soft smile to the barkeep you return your mug to the bar-top, to save her from having to clear up. You wonder then. You can’t help but wonder like you do every time. If she’ll be the last person to see you alive will she at least say, to who ever shows up looking, that you seemed kind?

She gives you a small smile and you hang on to this vestige of warmth too, wishing you could pocket it for later for when you inevitably feel so empty and so cold. If only you could have stored up warmth, you would have more than enough to thaw you. There was a time when you had an abundance, after all. Enough to carry you through the longest of winters. 

Your face drops as you tread out, winding your scarf around your neck and your boots puncturing the fresh, powdery snow.

Would anyone who mattered even show up looking? you ponder. Is there anyone left who would remember all the things you were before all this? Before you were a cold, lost thing?

There may be one person left.

Your eyes patrol the lot around you, an automatic sweep for threats, and, seeing nothing of note, you track determinedly towards the phone box, tears near-freezing on your cheeks.

You pick up the receiver and you punch in that number you have memorised, your eyes closing and your other hand bracing itself against the scratched and cigarette-burn puckered surface. You don’t even know if it will ring, or if he will still be at this address, but you do know that your knees will buckle either way. With relief if he does, and hopelessness if he doesn’t.

The line clacks as the number connects, and you grip the receiver hard enough that a day-old wound on your knuckle splits, but you can scarce care. Instead you simply hold your breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times...

Your stomach lurches as the ringing stops.

“Santiago? Santiago Garcia?” you ask, hoarsely, tugging on the coiled phone wire so hard as you wind it around your fingers that you are close to breaking it.

“This is Mrs. Garcia. Can I help you?” a woman’s voice responds.

You want to dry heave. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“You’re his wife?” you ask, the question like a poison barb on your tongue.

“Yes, who’s speaking, please? Can I take a message?”

All this time, you had been the only one alone, it seems. You should be glad for him, but you are too sad for yourself to muster it.

You hesitate. You can’t say who’s calling. You can’t risk it. However, while he may not be at the end of the line, you are. This might be the last chance you get to say your piece.

You have to think on your feet, but that’s become second-nature for you. You haven’t enjoyed the luxury of plans or hopes or dreams for some time now.

You begin. Your voice is choked up.

“Just tell him... Tell him to remember me the way I was in Massachusetts. Tell him I’ve never been happier than then. Tell him not to worry. I won’t cash in that favour, but he’s already done enough.”

He has. He’s given you the strength to make it this far, even if he didn’t know it.

“Who is this?” his wife presses, her tone sharp.

You can’t say, but he’ll know. He’ll know - if he remembers you. Your eyes mist over with tears, and your chest tightens, emotion stealing the air from your lungs.

“Can you just tell him that? Please?” you beg, having been strong for so long and finally collapsing in on yourself, a desperate plea imbuing your voice.

Still, you don’t even wait for an answer before slamming the phone back down on its hook -can’t bear to hear her say no. Instead you surge towards your hotel room, sobs wracking your chest as you realise the cold hard facts. Now, you are truly on the run without any semblance of home to return to, even if you could ever stop. He did not wait for you.

So, you cry, even as you peel off your clothes from your pained body, leaning into the stream of luke-warm water in the motel shower. Water which may rinse the blood and grime from the surface of your skin but has no hope of washing the blood from your hands, or wiping the red from your ledger.

Nothing ever could.

Then, you lie alone in bed, your sleeping bag and liner protecting you from the motel bed covers, at least. You stare up blankly at the ceiling, and, as you often do, you try to pinpoint where it all went wrong. You try to rewrite history. You try to imagine all the ways in which things could have worked out.

As always, with certainty, you can say exactly when and where it all went to shit. And, as always, you wish that you could take it back.

You loll your head against the pillow, watching shadows dance through your curtains as snow falls past the glow of that ugly, beautiful phone box. It was a guardian after all, you think, if Santi got to know that you still think of him. That even now you can’t let him go. 

Always. Until the end.

Then, your whole body jolts in shock as the phone begins to ring - a loud, shrill insistent noise sounding out into the night, setting off a dog barking across the way, and a baby crying through the paper thin walls to your left.

It couldn’t be? Could it? It couldn’t be for you?

Still, you have to know, and so, you scramble into your snow boots and dash into the brisk night, grappling to lift the phone from its receiver before it rings out, your breath a white cloud of exertion before you.

And, at the same time that you connect to the caller, you spot the second harbinger. You see the shadowed figure there, approaching you from across the lot. You see the outline of a gun in their hand, and their trench billowing around their shins as they maintain a steady pace towards you.

You have nowhere left to run. This is the end of the line. You know it in the depths of you.

So, you simply flatten your back to the phone box, facing your assailant.

You simply close your eyes, willing everything else to disappear as an unmistakeably familiar voice filters through the speaker into your ear. You grip the receiver tightly with both hands.

Santiago Garcia says your name. Your real name. Not one of many aliases you’ve had to assume, painting lies over your existence. He says your real name -one you haven’t heard spoken in so long- and your bottom lip begins to tremble. “Honey, is that you?”

You smile, tears of joy cascading down your face as his simple words stoke more warmth than you have felt in so long. Even as the cold bites at your skin. Even as you hear the continued crunch of footsteps in the snow. Even as you hear a gun cock, mere feet from your body.

Hearing his voice, you think your knees may buckle in relief regardless.

“Hey, old friend,” you say fondly, through an inexplicable, watery smile. And, despite the situation, you feel happy, for the first time in a long while. Bizarre as it is, you are finally able to relax all the way.

Will he remember me as kind, at least?

You grip the phone even more tightly as Santi’s voice surges, coming at you with a million urgent questions. You let them flow through you, and then they are gone, just as easily. You know you will not be afforded the chance to answer even one. So, you say something else instead.

“Remember me, okay?” you breathe. “Remember how I loved you. And I did, Santiago. Right until the end of the line.”

You hope that he will. You can only hope that when the stories and lies and secrets and compromises come out, that he will remember you the way you were in Massachusetts. Before things started to unravel. Before you went on the run.

And, as your eyes screw themelsleves tightly shut, and you brace yourself for what is inevitably coming, you don’t think of him as he is now. Someone distant. Someone who doesn’t belong to you. Someone at the end of the line. You don’t think of yourself that way either.

You remember him the way he was in Massachusetts.

You hope dearly, that he will think of you that way too.

You finally feel warm.

[chosenimagines]

Seizure (Dr Spencer Reid)

Universe: Criminal Minds Summary: Reader (named Lola) gets taken out of college for an interrogation but gets a seizure when seeing the crime scene on pictures

Warnings: Seizure, mental illness, panic attack

Language: English Request: yes/no Requests [Open] A/N: Seizure plays before Trash talk! This one shot/imagine can be found as well on my wattpad^^

🖊️    🖊️    🖊️   🖊️

____________________________________________

The confident Clatter which was going through the hallway outside made me smaller and smaller in my chair. I knew that I haven't done anything, but this situation was too much for me. I have been dragged out of my seminar from several FBI-agents and now I am sitting a small room which I've seen in different tv-shows. I was sitting in an interrogation room. 

Smoke had to come out of my ears because of all the thinking I did. I could not figure out why I was broad here. What could I have done to pull the FBI into my direction? I couldn't even go across the street when the traffic light was showing red! There was nothing I could have done to draw the attention of a state authority to myself. I was nothing more than a simple and overwhelmed law student. Suddenly the door opened and a brunette woman with emotion-loaded eyes and a stiff posture entered the room. She seemed to fight an aversion inside of her. The woman tried hard to cover it up. In my opinion she didn't do a good job covering up her emotions. I felt sorry for her. "Agent Elle Greenaway!", she introduced herself and slowly took a seat infront of me. Agent Greenaway put a file on the desk. "Ms Cinder-" "Lola please.", I mumbled. I didn't expecte that she heard what I've said. "Okay! Lola, you were broad here to talk about the homicide of Jasper Oram.", Agent Greenaway began to talk. I saw her expectantly look in her eyes when I lifted my head for the trickle of a moment. I couldn't keep looking into her eyes. The crushing silence between us was tactile. I digged my fingers into the lower part of my oversized hoodie. My heart was beating heavily and painfully against my chest. My shaking hands felt weak. All in all, I didn't feel good. My only hope was that I could go home soon. "Did you know Jasper Oram?" Rashly I shook my head. The name didn't ring a bell. No face popped up in my head. In silence I told his family and friends that I am sorry for their loss. Even though I felt sorry I didn't get what my humble self had to do with this homicide. "In the room of our victim we found pictures of you. Can you explain how these got there?" Agent Greenaway pulled out three pictures the size of a normal sheet of paper and placed them right infront of me. The photographs were all showing me. I coughed in shock. Why did a stranger have pictures of me in his room? Especially those pictures! Those couldn't be found on my social media. The first photo showed a scene from last year when I have been in the hospital. My doctor, Dory Green, was checking up on me. I remembered that moment clearly and in detail. I had one of my seizures before because I've been scared of one of the doctors. The second photograph showed me looking in astonishment at my phone. There was a date written on the paper. December 09th 2018 On that day my last boyfriend broke up with me. He had sent me a message over WhatsApp that I was too much for him. He texted me how I freak him out when I have one of my seizures. He wanted a normal girl that he could introduce to his parents without being afraid of her having a seizure. He didn't want to explain to his parents why I have what I have if I have a seizure. My weird issue and I would be locked up the next day anyways. The doctors would take care of me so I wouldn't have to do it. After this text I couldn't reach out to him anymore and I haven't seen him again. Without the date the picture wouldn't have been so intimate. But the previous ones were nothing compared to the last. My right hand laid on throat. My left hand pulled away the collar of my black dress. I was kneeling with tears in my eyes on the ground. The desperate and panicked look on my face made clear what situation was portrayed here. I was having a seizure. In the background I recognized my High School which meant this picture was one year old. "I don't know!" "You want to tell me that you can't explain how these pictures got into the victim's room or why he wrote with his own blood 'It was Lola Cinder!" on the floor the seconde before he died?!" Agent Greenaway was now standing. She banged on the table when she said 'died'. I flinched. The tears which hit my eyes were running down my cheeks. "I don't know anything. I've never met the victim!", I mumbled. Agent Greenaway starred me into the ground. Again, she pulled pictures out of her file and threw them on the desk. "Look closely at victim and tell me again that you have nothing to do with this!", the angry agent demanded. A short look and it was over for me. The blood caused a certain tightness inside of my chest. Suddenly I felt like somebody wrapped their hands around my throat and choked me brutally. A rattle escaped my throat, before I tried to reach for air hiccoughing and slipped of the chair. I crouched on the floor with my back pressed against the wall. Underneath an arduous effort I tried to focus on my breathing. But I still had the crime scene infront of my mind's eye and the scene didn't disappear. The imaginary hands tightened, and the hiccupping gasping was getting more. My breath went faster, shorter and heavier. I wasn't able to use any of my calming exercises because my thoughts only circled around the current happenings. No matter what I did it didn't leave my head. Through my panic I observed how the door crashed against the wall with a loud sound. Suddenly a young man knelt infront of me. "My name is Dr Spencer Reid. But Spencer will do for the moment!", he introduced himself. I wanted to answer but my seizure didn't give me a chance. The attempt to talk made the pain in my chest even worse. "Lola, if you can understand me just nod shortly." In a hefty motion I nodded. "Great! Now listen to me." Spencer's voice was pleasantly soft and calm. "I am now carefully taking your hands off of your throat. Okay?" Again, I nodded. I felt cool hands on mine which embraced my fingers and softly took them of my throat and hood. "I am going to hold your hands the entire time until this over. If you are okay with this squeeze my hands." I did what Dr Reid told me. "Spencer, I can't breathe!", I pressed out between my gasps and squinted my eyes. "I know.", he replied calmly. "But I know how to help you!" I squeezed his hands again as a sign to show him that I understood. "Look at me, Lola." "I can't!" My voice sounded strident, panicking and halting. The hiccoughing got worse. I felt dizzy! "You can do it! It is not hard. Open your eyes! You can do this. You are not alone!" I opened my eyes with a flutter. Splashes of colour danced before my eyes. The world didn't get focused. "Wonderful!", Dr Reid praised me. "Now look me in the eyes." I lifted my head and looked at him. "Okay. You are doing great. Now we are breathing together. Can you do that?" Again I wasn't able to speak. So I put pressure to Spencer's hand as an answer. "Take a breath!", Spencer demanded and demonstrated how to do it accompanied by a loud breathing sound. My attempt to mimic his action ended up in three gasps. "You are doing great! Now breath out." Along with him I left the air escape my lungs. Dr Reid breathed out in one go and I did in three separated strokes. We repeated this several time and the gasping and coughing blend into heavy breathing. At least I was able to talk again even tough it sounded breathless if I was being honest. "Okay. Let's play again. I say a word and you use the last letter to say a new wort." Another squeeze. "Victimology-research!" "Ho- Ho- hospital.", I coughed. "Leprechaun!" "Nostrils." "Sample." "Echo." "Occasion." "Nabal-trio!" "That is really creative!", Dr Reid laugh. I joined him laughing. Suddenly I noticed that I could breathe normal again. "I don't know how to thank you, Dr Reid!" He smiled sheepishly. "You can keep calling me Spencer." "You can stick with Lola for me as well.", I said and pushed my hair back looking as sheepish as Spencer. "Are you able to answer a few questions?", Spencer wanted to know. I felt how all blood left my face. "Stay calm! I won't show you the crime scene again." I swallowed hard. "Okay." I whispered. Spencer continued the interrogation under the hawk eyes of Agent Greenaway.

[bestiesenpai]

step brother geto headcanons

My friend says Geto is a flaming pile of trash, and you know what he right. But I still love Geto lol reader is gender neutral~

Step brother Geto is a mean bitch

Stays teasing you and he doesn’t care if it hurts your feelings

If your lower lip begins to tremble after he’s said something, then boy he’s hit the fucking jackpot

But no one else is allowed to say anything bad about you, or they mysteriously end up with a few bumps and bruises that they won’t admit anything about

Alwaaaays bringing you your favorite sweets or a new treat he saw in a bakery window, but you have to say ‘thank you big brother’ before he’ll give it to you

His treatment of you is a weird hot and cold kind of thing, one minute he’s ignoring you like you’re not even there and the next he’s taking you out to a cute cafe and taking photos for you

He leaves you confused because he’s confused as well; does he want to annoy you like an older brother would, or in a way that will rile you up in a different kind of way?

Despite the confusion, he’ll start out small with his shows of affection

A hug that lasts longer than his others

He’ll ‘jokingly’ offer to snuggle with you at night to help you fall asleep

When you’re making food, he’ll come behind you and give you a back hug and take whatever utensil you have out of your hand and do the work for you

Things like that

And I hope you don’t mind someone telling you how to dress because he’ll do it

He’ll never make outright fun of an outfit he knows you really like or feel really confident in, but sometimes he can’t help but ask if the shorts you’re wearing are a little too short, or if the top you have on is one that really flatters you

He just wants what’s best for you, and if that means going into your room and making you change right in front of him then so be it! And don’t mind that he keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs!

He’ll probably make his affections known when he comes home absolutely trashed one night from a party or something

Stumbles into your room and forces you awake, and while he’s swaying on his feet he’ll tell you how much he loves his little step sibling in a way that would make a saint blush

He’s just so happy your parents married so you could be together

After that, it’s fair fucking game

Makes you sit on his lap when you wanna watch a movie or anything, and his fingers can’t stop running up and down your legs and his nose is always pressed to the back of your neck

He’ll corner you in the hallway or some other place you can’t escape and demand you kiss him, and when you finally relent he’ll stick a hand up your shirt just to feel the hot skin underneath

Let’s talk more about him cornering you in the hall because it will happen a fucking lot lol he’ll press you against the wall and say that big brother needs a kiss right away or else he might just go into your room and do whatever he pleases in there

These little encounters will get more scandalous as time goes by

A hand under your shirt is now groping your ass or breasts, and he’s pushing more of his body onto yours, so you can feel the half hard cock he’s got under his jeans

He’ll even lift you up, make your legs wrap around his waist while he kisses you just around the corner from where your parents are

Those little kisses are never enough, and late at night he’ll make you come to his room - a place that you’re not often allowed into

He’ll make you straddle his lap as he leans against the headboard and you’ll kiss, and his hands will be firmly planted on your ass, and eventually he’ll start moving you to dry hump him, and it doesn’t stop until he’s creamed his fucking pants

Sometimes, Geto will invite you in and he’ll already be laying under the covers illuminated only by the light of his phone, and he’ll have you lay next to him

Of course he’s going to fondle you, what kind of step brother do you take him for? You’re in his room after all, what he says goes!

Absolutely addicted to sticking his hand down your pants and making you cum, squeezing his hand between your thighs and moaning into his mouth. He could cum just from that, and has on a few occasions

When he finally goes all the way and lets himself be the depraved older step brother that he truly is, oh boy it’s a treat

Convinces you to come to a hotel with him under the guise that in the morning you two are going to go on some trip

Really he just wants a place to fuck you for hours and not get interrupted by your parents

If you want, he’ll give you alcohol and/or marijuana, you know, because he’s a cool step brother

He’ll have the both of you shower, him first though so he can set the scene for when you get out in just a towel

He’ll be waiting on the bed for you, the clothes you’d set out on the counter mysteriously gone somehow, but here’s Geto in only his underwear watching you with a slick face

If you call him out, he won’t deny he took your clothes

Won’t give them back until you sit on his lap and give him a big hug and a kiss for getting such a nice room for the both of you

The moment you sit down though, his plan is in action

Flips you onto the bed and rips your towel off, just gazing at your naked body

He’s saved seeing it until now, and he knows that he’ll never not want to see it from now on

This man could spend hours just kissing you and getting you horny that way

He doesn’t leave any marks on you, not tonight at least, he just wants to savor this moment

Will give you head until you cry and tell him to stop though, he’s still depraved

Preps you so well that he bottoms out immediately and then it’s a mixture of missionary and bouncing you on his cock

After he makes you cum on his cock, he’s fucking hooked. You’re the only one for him now, and there’s no escaping your step brothers love

The second he cums inside you, consider that your wedding because he’s never leaving you

Will make you say how much you love your step brothers cock a million times throughout the night, and it will be a constant loop in his head for the rest of his life

He’ll fuck you whenever and wherever, even with your parents home and in the next room over(family movie night just got way more interesting)

If you ever piss him off though, he’s going to make sure you know it

He’ll purposefully bring someone over when it’s just the two of you at the house and fuck them really loudly in his room, I’m talking like not even a pillow between the headboard and the wall is enough to muffle the sounds of him clapping cheeks

And he’ll do this over and over until you beg for his forgiveness on your knees

But he could never stay mad at you, and he’s quick to soothe any worries that you think he doesn’t love you anymore or that you’ve been replaced; those people were just trash compared to you! So don’t worry, and let your big brother make you feel good. It’s been a while.

[vampylurr]

!Spoilers for Flowers from 1970!

I had to do a reading assignment and it could be any book, any kind of book, and genre, etc, etc. I chose Flowers from 1970, you know, that one dreamnotfound story. So if you don't want to read it, but are curious about it here is officially Copy+Paste from my assignment, so read if you want to, I don't care. Major Spoilers to the book, and even if you get all the way through this, I still suggest it.

Introduction/General Book Information

Title: Flowers from 1970

Author: Astronomika on Wattpad

What genre/type of book is it? (Fantasy, humour, science fiction, mystery, biography, non-fiction, etc.)

Flowers from 1970 was a novel made as a gift for two people, Georgenotfound and Dreamwastaken. Though they never had the kind of relationship implied in this novel it is very close to what was shown in streams with their persona's and the two said people don't mind receiving this type of content from fans, simply because they find it funny. It is definitely a fiction novel as one of the most significant objects is an old telephone that connects George and Dream a fifty-year time difference, Dream comes from 1970, while George is from 2020

Main Character

What is the main character’s name?

The main character’s name is George Davidson, a 24-year-old video game coder.

Describe this character (Physical and personality traits):

George Davidson a 24-year-old boy lived in an old house in Florida, as we go along in the story he describes himself as around 5’5(Inference compared to what he says about Clay), he has a long face that is evened out with a sharp jawline, a medium-sized nose, lips full enough that they don’t disappear when he smiles, his hair is a dark brown that is normally cut short but is a little longer at the moment. I did not use the real person for this description, these are pretty close to actual quotes in the book when Clay asks what he looks like. For a Personality he is described as a kind person, due to his job he doesn’t get out much, nor make friends often, When Clay doesn’t call him for a week he starts going out more because he thought that that's what Clay would have wanted him to do.

How can you relate to or identify with the main character?

George in this book has a lot of things that I can somewhat relate to, for George he didn’t have a hard time making friends, rather he doesn’t get out much to meet people. Most of the people he ends up meeting talk to him first. Dream was actually one of his first friendships.

Another Character

Who is another character?

Another character who happens to be another main character is Clay, or Also known as Dream for most of the story(no last name is given).

Describe this character (Physical and personality traits):

Dream is a 21-year-old living in 1970, he works as a baseball coach and lived in the same house as George. George Describes Dream as around 6’0 from a photo sent to him in a time capsule and a green handprint Dream presses into the wall in one of their conversations, The handprint is described as being bigger than Georges by a fair bit so that prompted George into guessing he was tall. Dream has shaggy dirty-blonde hair that sticks out at odd angles, he also has a cat named Patches, though she isn’t described. As stated by both Sapnap and George Dream is cocky and full of himself most of the time, he wants to be nothing like his father who was an abusive alcoholic, though he does get drunk once in the book to deal with his problems to see if his dad's methods actually worked.

Setting

(Where does the story take place? When is the story happening?)

Describe the time and place of the story:

Flowers from 1970 takes place in both 1970 and 2020, the phone connects Dream and George. The house that the story takes place in is located in Florida.

Comments about the setting:

(EX: setting makes story exciting, the setting has an important effect on the main character, the setting is/is not exciting or new, setting increased my knowledge of something):

A quote from the book is a perfect description of the place; “Now you know that once upon a time, in the same room, of the same house, fifty years apart, Clay and George Davidson had loved each other.” The book takes place in the same house at two different times, Dream being the past owner, while George being the future owner. They find out how to communicate with each other by that telephone, and Dream could send George things from the past by affecting small things, like burying a time capsule in the corner of the yard then telling George where it is over the phone, George can unbury it since it’s from the past, the things will be old and musty since it was fifty years since it was buried but it was an efficient way to send things.

Theme

(What did the author want you to experience, feel, or understand through reading this book? A theme can be about specific people and particular situations or about life in general.)

What is or are the topic(s) of the story?

(EX: courage? working hard? doing the right thing? greed? family? The importance of friends? jealousy? love? caring? happiness? sadness?)

The importance of moving on from things. When Dream died He told George that he made sure he couldn’t contact past Dream again, he wanted George to move on from him because no matter how much they loved each other it would never work, Dream cant have his heart in 2020 when it belonged in 1970.

Plot

(The Action/Summary of What Happened in the Story)

Summary of the story:

(In order, list 4 - 6 events that happened in the story. Keep them in order):

Dream tries to call his friend Sapnap about the assassination of the governor of Florida. He ends up contacting George by accident. George tells Dream that he has the wrong number and that the assassination happened 50 years ago and that the next day his right-hand man, Tubbo, was almost killed. They end the call leaving George thinking the guy who called him is an uneducated lunatic.

Dream calls the next day knowing that it's not his friends demanding that George tell him who he knew that Tubbo was almost murdered. George re-explained to him that it happened 50 years prior and everyone knew about it because they learned it in school. Dream finally asked the date, it was June 28, 2020, Dream told George it was June 28, 1970. This is how their friendship started to kick off.

During the second cell phone conversation they realized that the house They were in at the current time was the same one as each other and on the third call Dream wanted to test something to see if he could change current moments, he dipped his hand in line green paint and pressed it against the wall, it showed up on Georges side but it was worn and chipped as the time wore it down, George pressed his hand against it and Dream caught him in the act as a joke.

Dream sent George a time capsule by burying it in the corner of the yard George found (He encounters Wilbur the first time looking at him oddly while writing something in his notepad) it and opened it on Dreams next call, the capsule contained a container of lime green paint(the same Dream used), Pow-Chew(Dream’s favourite Gum), Music cassette, baseball cards, Quartz(Dream sent it to him because it’s his favourite thing and he wanted to give it to his favourite person, finding that it would be wrong to tell that to someone who didn’t even exist yet he told George that he didn’t he’d need it when he was older), and A polaroid of Dream.

George used the line green paint and pressed his own handprint into the wall next to Dream’s.

(THIS IS IMPORTANT!)Dream sent George a packet of Cornelius flower seeds(Georges favourite flowers, since Dream asked), he had gotten jealous of a couple while on the phone with George because unlike them The long-distance relationship between him and George the distance could never be closed.

George plants the flowers after going to the same flower shop that Dream happened to go to, to buy the flowers, he gets help from his neighbour Wilbur(after Wilbur jots down something in a notepad his neighbour helps)and makes a new friend in the process.

Dream asks George what he looks like, since they cant send things from Georges side they draw on the wall, George describes himself and Dream draws if something is wrong George with tell him and Dream will correct it.

(THIS IS IMPORTANT!)Dream forgot to call, Wilbur came over for some company of George with some cider and they had a family meal.

Dream doesn’t call for a week after he realizes he’s in love with George it’s been at least three months since they first started talking, during that week Wilbur’s family has a family emergency doing with the father that came back from London (BEFORE ANY BIG THINGS HAPPEN!) George watches Wilburs son, Tommy.

The night that George is out eating dinner with Wilbur’s family, Dream calls, he plans to tell George how he feels. George needs to take Wilbur’s family to the hospital, The father is getting worse, he seized up.

They get to the hospital. Wilbur's dad wants to see George. “He called you today, you know.” He tells George, he was confused, and it turns out that It was Dream. “You love him don’t you?” George responds with yes. “I just can’t have my heart in 2020, when it belongs in 1970.”

“Take care of those flowers, Wrong Number.” That was the last wish to George before Dream died.

Wilbur visits the next day, he shows Dream’s Journal to George, on the last page there were dates written down, the dates were every time something happened, George unburied time capsule, I forgot to call, etc with every date. In the middle of their visit Dream calls, He confesses, George confesses, they love each other, in the moment of tears, Wilbur Wrestles the phone out of George's hands and cuts the wire. That was what Dream wanted Wilbur to do, he wanted George to move past him.

What did you like about the book? Why? Be specific.

I enjoyed everything about this book, the writing style was amazing, the characters were amazing. George’s description of himself to Dream was honestly believable, something someone would say.

What didn’t you like about the book? Why? Be specific.

The ending was probably the one thing I really disliked, I liked it but it was sad, I was a mess after I read that ending, both George and Dream knew that in Georges time Dream would be in his seventies but why did he have to die?

Was the story believable or was it confusing and/or hard to believe? Explain Why?/How?

Flowers from 1970 is a very believable story, though it was fiction everything was explained as if you were in the story, you could picture everything, you could picture Tommy and his mixed cereals, you could Picture George on his bed waiting for Dream to call him, you could picture Dream smirk as he harassed George for holding handing with the handprint on the wall.

Explain what you thought of the ending …(good, bad, exciting, confusing, frustrating, etc)…and why.

Ending amazing, but so sad, the quote that made my tears fall even more was when Wilbur cut the phone cord; “I saw my friend die twice, both versions of him.” This is from George.

Overall Rating (0 to 10 stars):

10/10 stars

Would you recommend this book to others? Why?

I would recommend it to anyone, even people who aren’t big fans of the Youtubers this book was made for, it has a plot that is followed all the way through, it really goes for readers emotions, and from what I’ve seen everybody who has read this book has shed some tears. I think it would do good if it ever got published to paperback.

Extra quote!: “Right Person, Wrong Time.”

[ashbrea381writings]

Fractals and Feathers:Pt1

For as long as Damian could remember, his grandfather had grumbled about his wings. The outer color was fitting for the League, a deep pine green with brown eye-markings near the base. The underside, however… Were a soft, baby pink that faded into a grey-white. His soulmate was obviously some civilian girl who had no problems in her life. “It is unbecoming. If you were to ever meet this person, you must end them on sight, salvage some form of dignity.” Ra’s lectured, sneering down at Damian. “If you fail to do this, you will lose the right to have wings at all.” With that threat, Ra’s swept out of the training room, leaving Damian to consider what he must do.

The next five years were spent with Damian training hard, the threat of having his wings removed hanging over his head. He kept an eye out for his soulmate anytime he was out on a mission either with his mother or when he was alone. He was determined to not get his wings ripped from him, no matter what fate wanted for him. This went on until the fateful day his mother took him away from all he knew, and left him with his father. His father’s wings were jet black with small points of pure white like stars on the underside and slate grey with blue and purple markings on the outside. Damian didn’t care about the colors of the other boys’ wings, and ignored the color of his own, choosing to keep them tucked close enough that only the grey edges of the bottoms showed at all. This is why it took him 2 weeks to notice the first cracks.

****

Marinette had always found the dichotomy of her wings interesting. The light, pale pink fading to grey on the back, and the dark pine green on the underside. She thought it was pretty, and just a bit mysterious. Somehow, on hot days the inside of her wings would be just a bit cooler than the rest of her, soothing the heat just enough to be comfortable. On cold days, they gave off the heat of the summer sun, warming her through the cold nights in her attic bedroom. When Marinette got her miraculous, she worried about her wings giving her away, but instead of her pink/grey and green wings, she found that the pink was replaced by bright red with black dots, and the green was changed to black with red dots. Meeting up with Chat, she found him with startling acid-green and black patterned wings. “I guess they want to protect our identities.” He joked, laughing and admiring the pattern. “Let’s not focus on that, Kitty.” She sighed and turned to face Stoneheart. “This is scary enough as is without thinking about if they didn’t hide our wing colors.” “True… Let’s go.” His face turned suddenly serious. “Do you have a plan?” Stoneheart took time to defeat, and Ladybug forgot the Akuma, so they had to clean it up later, but… They were pretty happy with the partners they were starting to become. They started to get to know each other, not revealing identities, but learning everything else about each other. Until one day, Chat brought up something interesting. “Hey, what happens to your wings if something happens to your soulmate?” “Why do you ask, Kitty?” Ladybug paused as she was unpacking the dinner she’d brought with the two of them. “Someone I know, they commented about the color of a person’s wings when we were out together. They said something about how that person had lost their soulmate. Nobody ever said anything to me about the colors changing if we lose them.” He stared at his gloved palms, seeming to not see anything at all. “Why? Did yours change color recently?” Ladybug asked, alarmed. “No! No, they’re the same as always, but… My… My mother disappeared a while ago, and I want to know what to look for and how to know what happened to her if I see my father’s wings change.” He sighed deeply, dropping his head into his hands. “I know I can’t say more because we can’t know who each other are, but I just… I’m so terrified to see them changed one day.” Ladybug wrapped an arm and wing around Chat, pulling him to lean on her shoulder. “Oh Cat. I can tell you, but try to stay positive, okay?” At his nod, she continued. “Your color on the underside of your wings will change if your soulmate dies. If they die of old age, they turn pure white, if they were sick, pure black, if they had an accident, they become silver, if they died a hero or sacrificed themselves for someone, they turn gold, and… If they were killed, they turn blood red.” Ladybug sighed at the end and hugged Chat tighter. “Does your father have any of those colors without any other color or pattern? It’s only plain colors with no other pattern for if the person has died.” Chat took a deep breath, shaking his head, “No, they still look like Mom’s wings as of last I saw them. We… Don’t talk much.” He hugged Ladybug tightly, wrapping his wings around under the one she had put over his shoulders. “Thanks, Bug, I’m glad I know now… At least I know she’s still alive out there. Somewhere.” They finished their dinner, flying a circuit around Paris to make sure all is well before they called it a night. The next few weeks passed, and they kept up with the Akuma Victims, making sure to check in on the victims after each fight. The people of Paris started noticing something odd as this continued though. The Akuma fights, even though all damage was reversed after each one, were affecting their wings and those of their soulmates.

***

Damian squinted at the small spider-webbing of cracks that glowed gold on the underside of his wings. It reminded him of kintsugi in appearance, subtle cracks that showed gold between the usual colors. “Father, what does this mean? I thought your wings only changed color if your soulmate died?” He finally asked after the number of cracks increased to stretch in geometric patterns across the pink and grey feathers. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen this before.” Bruce frowned, looking closely and waving Tim over to him. “Will you try to find anything you can about this phenomena?” Uncharacteristically serious, Tim nodded and went to work right away, his red and black wings draped over his chair comfortably. Damian turned away before he noticed the colors inside his wings, not wanting to know. A sharp beep alerted him to his phone, and he raised an eyebrow at the photo. “It would seem Kent is having a similar problem.” He showed Tim the photo Jon had sent of his own wings, the blonde and emerald green feathers also showing cracks, in a similar geometric pattern, but in a mix of gold and blood red. “I shall inform him that we are already looking into it.” “Yes, let Jon know that we’re working on it. If his case increases at any point, or anyone else around him experiences it, have him notify us.” Tim called over his shoulder as he continued to work on the program he was making to search with.

***

How long does it take for your wings to change color when your soulmate dies?

Marinette chewed her fingernail as she scrolled through the results, reading a few different reports comparing the reported time of death and when the soulmates’ wings changed color, mostly reported by hospitals in the case of illness or death. “Within two or three minutes. That explains a lot, actually. But then why are they not completely changed, just showing cracks?” “You have dealt with some pretty destructive Akuma recently.” Tikki recalled from her place on her Chosen’s shoulder. “Maybe those only kinda count because they would have been permanent if you hadn’t done the Cure?” “I suppose. Syren was pretty intense, and so many of the people who have the markings were probably people whose loved ones and even they themselves drowned.” Marinette sighed. “I wonder what Mamman and Papa think about all this?” “You could probably ask them… It isn’t so strange to wonder since you can see the cracks in their wings, and in other people’s at school.” Tikki suggested. “Good idea, what would I do without you?” Marinette giggled, patting Tikki’s head and opening the edge of her blazer so Tikki could listen in from there. The bakery was quiet at the moment, so Marinette had little trouble catching a few minutes of her parents’ time. “What do you think about them? I saw Alya and Nino with the markings at school and I’m not sure what they mean.” “Well, I’ve seen them before, but not this much on one person.” Her Papa said carefully, “Your Grandpa Roland had a heart attack not long before your Maman and I got together. Did you notice the black edging to some of Grandma Gina’s feathers?” “I thought she just had black markings.” Marinette answered softly. “On the back of her wings, yes, but his wings are just grey and white with the black tips.” Tom sighed, rubbing his face. “This many cracks… and the mix of colors. It’s very unusual. I can only assume it’s because of the akuma attacks. Which means that either your soulmate is very lucky, or they aren’t in Paris.”

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 4

photo credit - @ssa-emilyhotchner​

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader 

warnings - canon typical criminal minds, stalking, angst. pretty tame chapter 

summary - “I’m on a date.” You responded flatly. The other end of the line went silent.

a/n - hi besties. so this chapter is p short compared to the last one, i had like  7k something chapter 4 and it just didnt feel right, BUT that means chapter 5 is basically done i just need to edit it soooooooooooo hopefully wont take a long time lol! enjoy, heart yall forever 

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3 

chapter 3 / chapter 5 

-----

The rest of the team was left in various levels of shock. Everyone was struggling to process the bomb of information that had just been revealed. With hindsight, it was easy to connect the strange levels of tension and intimacy that radiated between you and Hotch. What was more difficult to swallow, was the new understanding that Hotch had been keeping this secret for nearly five years. Random ‘trips’ that Hotch would take out of state or the subtle sprinkles of wealth showing up in the form of gifts suddenly made sense. 

This was completely uncharted territory for the entire team. Given Hotch’s history, it wasn’t too difficult to understand how protective he may be of any relationships post-Haley; but the magnitude of your relationship- both in terms of your status as well as length-, and the withholding of information even on the case was a different form of betrayal that couldn’t be kicked under the rug. 

Hotch had always been one of the fiercest advocates for unity, truth and an equal playing field when it came to information concerning a case,- Morgan was still feeling second hand embarrassment for Jordan- for him to be the one to hold back such influential info was difficult to fully wrap their heads around. Anger, of course, was felt and there would certainly be time for that anger- not even getting started on the amount of questions everyone was bound to have-, but as the team was silently processing, they all reached similar conclusions. Hotch was displaying a softness and side of him they hadn’t seen in a very long time and they wouldn’t let their valid frustrations get in the way of solving this case. 

Morgan was the first to speak, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I need to text Garcia about this.” He said, shaking the phone a bit. Everyone managed to laugh at that, all certain that Garcia would have the most interesting reaction to the news.  

“You know…, the other day when she was giving me a tour of her house, I pointed out a bottle of Dalmore 25 she had on the wall. She got really weird about it and I thought she was trying to play modest, but this, this makes a lot more sense.” JJ remarked lightheartedly. 

“So now we know Hotch has some game then, huh?” Morgan quipped, a large grin on his face. When everyone just stared blankly back at him, even more confused than they already were he continued. “Do you all not remember when he ‘magically’ got a bottle of Dalmore 45, those start at twelve grand” 

Reid was about to open his mouth and add to the conversation, but just as the words were leaving his mouth Hotch stormed back into the conference room. One hand was tightly balled in a fist while the other was gripping his phone. 

“She’s not answering her phone. Three times, it went straight to voicemail.” 

“She isn’t on set today, when she left this morning she told me she had work related errands to run.” Emily recounted, racking her brain for any more info about your whereabouts. 

Hotch strode over to an open laptop at the edge of the table, quickly hitting a series of buttons until a very flustered Garcia appeared on screen; her mouth dropping open when she saw Hotch. 

“Questions later Garcia,” Hotch opened, already anticipating that someone Derek would have informed her of the latest news, “I need you to track Y/N. I want her current and last location.” 

“Yes sir! I uh, I will do that right now for you.” Garcia responded, clearly doing her best to hold back the hoard of questions and comments she had. The sound of her vigorously typing filled the room. “Alright sir, so the bad news is that it looks like her phone is currently turned off, but! The last place it pinged at was outside of Chateau Marmont about three hours ago. Which for those of you who don’t know this place is notorious for being the A-lister hideaway-” 

“Garcia, do a wide search for her name and location for today’s date. Check to see if there’s been any media sightings on her whereabouts.” Hotch ordered. He hadn’t forgotten how uneasy it had made him once he found out how easy it was to locate you. Paparazzi were a different form of ruthless and he’d never realized how difficult it actually was for people in the spotlight until he met you. 

“Let me see…, yes sir you are right! I’m getting a bunch of hits of her entering the-” Garcia’s sentence falling off with an ‘oh’. 

“Garcia, what’d you find?” 

A headline popped up on the screen. 

“Emma Co-Stars Pictured Together Out At Lunch: Has The Love Moved Past The Screen?” 

Underneath, multiple photos of you quickly loaded. There you were, cheerily standing next to your co-star, looking up at him with a big grin on your face. The photos showed the two of you in different positions as you made your way inside. A few of him as he opened the car door for you. One of you with your arm wrapped loosely around his while you walked up the door. One of you ducking under his arm as you entered the restaurant. 

The tension in the room was palpable as everyone did their own mini attempt at profiling the photo. It was difficult, you’d clearly proven to be a great actress and they knew you were capable of manipulating your outward emotions. It was even more difficult considering it was just a handful of mediocre quality photos. 

Hotch was tightly gripping the edge of the table, forcing himself to keep a level head. He knew it was unreasonable to get angry over the idea of you with another man, but it didn’t help the pang in his heart as he recognized the genuine signs of happiness you were emitting. 

“JJ,” Hotch said, voice dangerously calm, “call the restaurant and have them discreetly tell Y/N that ‘Andi’ is calling her.” Discretion was the highest priority for him, the envelope being even further confirmation that the unsub was closely trailing you. The last thing he wanted to do was either trigger a violent reaction or cause him to go underground.

Back when the two of you had been together, out of an abundance of caution, you used to refer to Aaron as ‘Andi’ in public. You hated not being able to thank him in speeches or mention him in any capacity, so this had been your best way around it. 

“Yes sir.” JJ responded, quickly moving out of the room to make the phone call. 

“Garcia, do you have any leads on the kid that dropped off the envelope?” Hotch asked. 

“No sir. The car he left in was reported stolen a few days ago with no leads as to where it went. Camera feeds loose the car about three blocks away and his face was too obstructed to get any hits that way.” 

“Alright, once JJ comes back with confirmation Y/N’s gotten the message, I’m going to pick her up. I want the rest of you to work with Garcia and categorize these photos. Cross reference whatever you can to get a timeline.” Hotch ordered, the rest of the team not being to be told twice. 

-----

“Where the hell are you?” Aaron demanded. 

Even through the phone, you could tell he was absolutely seething. It was bad, by the time you had picked up the phone you’d amassed a total of twenty texts and nearly ten missed calls from Aaron; not even mentioning the individual missed calls you had from each member of the team. It was bad, but in your defense it had been less than an hour from the first missed call to your current response. 

What could you say? You were big on not being on your phone when you were spending time with friends. 

“What do you mean, where the hell am I,” you answered, rolling your eyes as you leaned up against one of the private bathroom countertops. “How did you describe it before Agent? I’m very in ‘demand’.”

You could hear him groan through the phone and wondered if he was running his hands over his face; something he used to always do when you were being difficult; he absolutely was. 

“Y/N-” 

“I’m on a date.” You responded flatly. The other end of the line went silent. As you were debating whether or not you should add the part about it being a publicity date, Aaron’s voice came through. 

“End it. I’m picking you up. The drive there from the station shouldn’t be more than 30 minutes.” Aaron said, his voice dangerously even. 

“I’m perfectly capable of getting back to the station on my own Agent. I don’t need you stirring up an absolute scene-”

“Y/N,” he started, voice commanding in a way that told you he was serious, “a package was delivered to the station today. Filled with hundreds of photos of you over the years,” he paused again and you could hear him take a deep breath before continuing, “there’s photos of us in there. The unsub knows.” 

You went silent, mouth opening over and over, unable to find anything to say. You had always envisioned a world where you and Aaron were some sort of ‘public’ knowledge, but never like this, obviously never like this. 

“Y/N, I need to come get you,” Hotch said, his voice much softer now, “I can’t-, I need to see that you’re safe.” 

“I’ll make something up,” You said quickly, before adding, “there’s a private valet area, I’ll send you the instructions to get past the gates and I’ll let the security know you’re coming to pick me up.” 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, don’t draw any attention to yourself.” And with that he hung up, leaving you stunned in the bathroom. You gripped the edges of the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror. You wished you could stay in the bathroom for hours, desperately needing some time to privately process what Aaron had told you. 

That wasn’t in the cards for you though, so you quickly did some pointless attempts at ‘straightening’ your appearance- more for your benefit than anything else- before you turned the lock and left back for your table 

You slipped back into your seat across from your friend and co-star Johnny. 

“Your friend alright?” Johnny asked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a small smile, “she’s fine. But my Agent called me when I was in there, she apparently managed to set up some last minute FBI consult to help me prep for an audition I have coming up. According to her, she ‘pulled a lot of strings for this’.” You said, rolling your eyes. The lie sliding out of your mouth with ease. “Whoever this FBI dude is, is supposed to come pick me up right about,” you looked down at your phone, “now apparently. So I guess our little date has to end early.” You said, giving him an exaggerated sad pout. 

Johnny rolled his eyes at that, giving you a small laugh. The two of you were both equally uninterested, romantically, in each other. But you did get along quite well, so being ‘forced’ into hanging out with each other outside of filming wasn’t bad; you’d probably hang out outside of filming anyway 

“No worries, we still on for running lines later tonight?” He asked. 

You thought for a moment, before nodding. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, help me flag down the waiter, I want to get one last drink in before I go.” 

-----

About twenty minutes later you found yourself waiting out in the private courtyard of the restaurant. You were doing your best to calm your nerves, this being the first opportunity you had to try and process what Aaron had told you. You should’ve seen it coming, if the stalker was so obsessed with you, he must’ve noticed Aaron in your life at some point. But you had been so careful. 

Then the other obvious thing hit you. His team knew. You were wondering how the team had taken the news when you saw the black SUV come into view. Aaron quickly stopped the car in front of you and before you could move to open the passenger door yourself, he was out of his seat in a flash, coming over to where you were standing. 

For a moment you were both silent. You felt tiny under his unrelenting gaze, his eyes scanning your entire being as he ensured himself you were okay. 

Without thinking, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, ensnaring his arms tight to his side. As soon you realized what you did, you were internally kicking yourself, moving to loosen your arms nearly as fast as you had put them there.

“Aaron I-” 

Before you could finish your attempted apology, Aaron had pulled his arms from under yours and repositioned them around you, pulling you tightly against him. Your head naturally fit perfectly under his and you took in a deep breath, letting his scent surround you. It was cliche, but you both were thinking about how perfectly your bodies melded against each other.  

You felt his hand rest gently on the back of your head, gently stroking down your hair in a steady rhythm. “I got you.” He whispered, so quiet you nearly didn’t hear it. 

You pulled your head back so you could look up at him. “I’m scared.” You said, admitting it aloud for the first time.  

Aaron was staring hard down at you, his face soft. “I know,” he started, moving a piece of hair away from your face, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?” 

You nodded at that, missing his warmth when he started to pull away from you. He kept a protective hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the passenger seat. He opened the door and helped you in, gently shutting the door behind you. As soon as your door was shut he wasted no time in getting in the driver's seat, starting the car up again. With a quick check to make sure your seatbelt clicked was in, Aaron peeled out of the parking lot. 

A few floors above the courtyard, in one of the private hotel rooms, a curtain was angrily thrown shut. 

-----

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @averyhotchner @kimmy-k-k @uwu-sebastianstan

a/n- if youve asked to be on the taglist and dont see urself, please send another message! im really bad about putting people on my tag document lol, even if ive like responded in tumblr!!

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 5)

Chapter summary: Aaron and the rest of the BAU finally make an arrest on their case, and you spend the weekend at Aaron’s.

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms

prev. chapter || masterlist || read on ao3

I had a few, got drunk on you, and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

- Harry Styles, “Medicine”

 ~~~~~~~

The investigation was slow going, and every day when you got off the metro to get to your internship, you would see the undercover van that you knew had BAU members cramped inside, sitting and waiting for somebody, anybody , to slip up and say something incriminating. 

  It was weird being at work knowing that it was bugged, but it did wonders for your productivity. Whenever Chris or another one of your friends at the office started to ask you about your personal life, you were able to deflect it with a quick “Sorry, I’m in the zone right now, and I’ve really got to focus!” Usually, you had no problem sharing, but you really didn’t want the FBI to have audio evidence of your retelling of you double fisting vodka Sprites the night before until you passed out in your bathtub. 

  You also hadn’t seen Aaron since that first night together, which was almost a week ago now. The two of you had been texting back and forth pretty consistently, but you quickly found that there was a variable that wasn’t there two years ago - Jack.

You should have realized that, of course , Jack would be living with Aaron now, but it never crossed your mind. Jack used to live with Haley, and Aaron rarely brought him up to you. Now that Jack lived with Aaron, it made things a little more complicated. It also meant that you couldn’t just show up at Aaron’s doorstep whenever you were feeling lonely, or vice versa. After a long and awkward phone call, Aaron and you had both agreed that it was best that Jack just didn’t meet you, just in case he got attached.

  “For now, at least,” Aaron had added at the end, and holy shit, you did not have the time to unpack whatever the fuck that meant.

  Especially not with Chris throwing a crumpled piece of paper at you like the two of you were in middle school and passing notes.

  You held up the ball of paper with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously? You have the desk across from me, you could have just said my name.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asked you, pointedly ignoring your question. “Nina just got the Catan expansion pack and she wants us all to come over.”

  You pursed your lips as you thought about the offer. You did love game nights with your friends, but it was Friday night and you were still holding out on the possibility of Aaron maybe being free and inviting you over. It was almost pitiful how touch starved you were after just a few days of not being with Aaron.

  “I’m not sure whether or not I’m busy tonight,” you admitted, maybe speaking a little too loudly in the direction of the listening devices, just in case Aaron was listening in. 

  Chris gave you a knowing smirk. “Oh, are you waiting to hear from your secret lover?”

  “Okay, don’t use the word ‘lover’ again,” you groaned. “And what makes you think that it was anything more than a one night stand?”

  “Because when you’re not actively texting, you’ve been checking your phone every 20 minutes.”

  Your face turned red as you sunk into your seat, trying and failing to hide yourself. Maybe if you willed it hard enough, the ground would open up and swallow you whole, just to save you from the embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were checking your phone so often, but you also didn’t doubt it. 

  “Fine,” you grumbled, deciding that coming clean to your friends was going to be much easier than having to deal with them bringing it up at every moment possible. Besides, you didn’t have to give them all the details. “I will tell everybody all about him, but later . Not now.”

  Chris smirked as he leaned back in his chair, obviously proud of himself. You turned back to your work, mindlessly doing edits as you came up with a cover story in your head.

  Ran into an old friend, you could say. We got drinks, and then one thing led to another. That could work, except you came to the realization that you didn’t have any photos of Aaron, which would be suspicious if he was an old friend. You would have to look him up, which you were sure would just lead to a slew of FBI ID photos and news articles, which would mean that they’d just do some major googling of their own. You had avoided looking up Aaron, maybe in fear of what fucked up cases he had been involved in, but your friends would not hesitate.

  You could come up with something so ridiculous that they would just laugh about it. Yeah, I got a sugar daddy and he made me sign a nondisclosure agreement, sorry! You giggled to yourself just thinking about it. Aaron would probably be mortified at the thought. Although, he did wear a Rolex, so you guessed that anything was possible.

  “Holy shit, Y/N,” Chris mumbled, and you just gave a lazy hum as a reply, not really paying attention. “The FBI is here.”

  Your head snapped up at that . You whipped your head around so that you could face the entrance, and sure enough, the entire BAU team was walking in like they owned the place, with Aaron in the lead. They all had their FBI vests on, a sight which was way more attractive than it should have been. JJ and Reid stayed at the entrance to make sure nobody got out.

  “Everybody, please stay calm,” JJ called out, putting her hands up non threateningly. “Everything is okay, but we need you all to stay sitting exactly where you are.”

  A commotion came from the conference room and against your better judgment, you turned your head to watch what was going on. It wasn’t just one person getting arrested, it was every partner. You watched as Aaron spun Julian DuPont around by the wrist and pushed his face down on the conference table and oh, the FBI vest was nothing compared to watching Aaron arrest somebody.

  If anybody asked you if you got turned on during an FBI raid, you would vehemently deny it, but watching Aaron take out his handcuffs made your mind flash back to all those times you were in that same position, cuffed and bent over, completely at Aaron’s mercy. 

  Just as quickly as they came in, the BAU made their arrests and made their way back out. As Aaron passed your desk, his eyes met yours for a brief second and the corner of his mouth quirked up smugly. It was so subtle and quick that even you barely caught it, but you knew that look.

  At least you weren’t the only one in this situation with your mind in the gutter.

  Once the rest of the BAU was out of the building, JJ and Reid started the process of getting everybody else out of the office so that CSI could come in and finish looking around. When you passed by them, both agents greeted you with a warm smile, like the three of you were old friends.

  “Y/N, we’re going to need to get your statement before you go home,” Reid told you as you walked by, and you just nodded in confirmation.

  Once you got outside, you were immediately greeted by some agent named Anderson. He needed to get your statement on the work you did with the team, and you quickly gave him the PG version of the story. Your mind, however, was more focused on finding Aaron, who you knew had to be somewhere in the crowd. God, how long did it take to write down a simple statement?

  “I’ll take it from here, Anderson. Thank you.” 

  Aaron’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you spun around to look at him. You brought your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Nice arrest, although I’m surprised. Mr. DuPont doesn’t even drive himself to work, I can’t imagine him waiting out to kill somebody.”

  “That’s because he hired hitmen,” Aaron explained. “The victims were all bribing judges to get their cases dismissed, and all of those dismissed cases looked really bad for his prosecuting record.”

  You shrugged, placing your hands on his hips. “Probably not as bad as prison, though.”

  That actually got a laugh out of Aaron, but he quickly composed himself as another agent walked past the two of you. “Yeah, he’s not going to be practicing law ever again.” 

  You opened your mouth to say something - maybe to invite him over? You weren’t totally sure - when one of the CSI’s came over to ask Aaron something.

  Aaron waved him off, telling him that he would be there in a moment, before turning back to you. “My house will be empty all weekend,” he whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. “Pack a bag, come over.”

  Before you could even answer him, Aaron had already taken off. You made your way towards the metro so that you could run home before heading to Aaron’s. You had to fight the smile that was growing on your face when Aaron mentioned packing a bag. Not only was it an unspoken promise of a weekend full of sex, it also meant that he was planning on making room for you to keep some of your stuff at his house. The two of you were quickly falling back into your old routines, and it was weirdly comforting.

  When you got to your house, you made a split second decision to change out of your work clothes into a more casual outfit, although it didn’t matter much what you were wearing. It’s not like it was going to stay on for very long. As you packed your bag, you ordered an Uber, knowing it would get you to Aaron’s place faster than the metro. 

  Sure, you were a little impatient, but it had been so long since you had spent the night at Aaron’s place. It always intrigued you how different it was at his house than it was at yours. You were just staying in a shoebox apartment while you were in college - something liveable and temporary until after you graduated and got a job where you could put actual roots down. Your decor was fairly minimum, an assortment of knick-knacks and photos of your friends.

  Aaron’s place was different. It was a certifiable, adult house with framed art and random decorative bowls scattered around. All of his kitchenware was a part of a matching set and his living room looked like all the pieces were picked out by an interior designer. In a weird way, being at Aaron’s house gave you a glimpse of the life you could have in just a few years. Sometimes, it was easy to imagine that you were a part of his world.

  You couldn’t think like that, though. Especially not when he greeted you at his door with an eager kiss, pulling you in so that you were pressed against him.

  “I’m going to use this entire weekend,” Aaron mumbled against your lips in between kisses. His hands slid up your sides, pulling your shirt off almost immediately. “To thoroughly and completely ruin you, until you can only say my name.” 

  Your fingers tangled in his hair as you smiled into the kiss, your fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips, which only encouraged him to deepen the kiss.

  The two of you stumbled towards Aaron’s bedroom, only detaching your lips when absolutely necessary and leaving a trail of clothes behind you. You needed to be naked, to feel your bare skin pressed against his. His hands were impossibly everywhere all at once - running up your thighs, cupping your breasts, and gripping your hips so hard that it was bound to leave bruises. Your body burned everywhere he touched and soon all you could think about was him and how badly you wanted him to touch you where it mattered.

  Once you got to his bedroom, Aaron pressed you against the wall. You tried to grind against him, but he moved one of his hands onto your hips so that he could hold you in place. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sucking just enough to make your back arch. “You have no idea how often I thought of you this week. How hard it was to listen to you and not think about how you sound when you’re begging for me. How badly I needed you.”

  Your nail scratched down his back lightly, just enough to elicit a soft hiss from him. “Desperation is unbecoming on you, Aaron,” you teased, knowing that would get a reaction out of him.

  It worked. One of his hands stayed on your hip, pressing you firmly against the wall, while his other hand tangled itself in your hair, pulling your head back so that your face was lifted up towards him. He kept you at an arm's distance as his eyes raked your body up and down hungrily.

  “I’m desperate?” he said scornfully. “Coming from the girl who is so needy that she couldn’t stay away from her phone for more than a few minutes, just waiting for me to want you. I could have called you at any time, and you would have dropped everything just to let me use you, isn’t that right? You’d let me do anything to you, just like the filthy slut you are.”

  You visibility gulped at his statement but you nodded obediently, which earned you a sharp tug of your hair.

  “Yes, Aaron, fuck ,” you gasped out. “I would have let you do anything at any time, just please…”

  Aaron gave you a predatory grin as the hand on your hip slowly made its way up your stomach until it cupped your right breast, thumbing lightly over your nipple. It wasn’t enough to get any real pleasure, but it made you moan all the same.

   “You did such a good job this week,” he murmured, looking at you almost worshipfully like he wanted to commit you to memory.  “I was going to give you whatever you wanted tonight. But maybe that would make me too desperate .”

  You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. “I- I-” you stuttered out. You couldn’t think straight.

  “I- I-,” Aaron mocked. “I thought you were a lot more intelligent than that. Come on, Y/N, whatever you want. Use your words. Unless pleasure’s turned you into a stupid whore.” He punctuated the last word with a light spank to your clit, which made you cry out and your legs instinctively try to close.

  “I want you to use your mouth,” you begged, arching your back in a pitiful attempt to create some form of contact. Your shoulders pressed against the wall was the only thing keeping you upright.

  “Where?” he asked all too casually.

  Your breathing was still shaky at best, but you forced yourself to make eye contact with Aaron. He looked back at you expectantly, waiting patiently for your answer.

  You slowly raised your hand to point to your left breast, which so far had been woefully ignored. “Here,” you said hesitantly, not sure whether or not he was going to tease you. While Aaron always gave you what you asked for eventually, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you beg for it first.

  To his credit, however, Aaron immediately bent down and attached his mouth to your nipple, his teeth gently scraping over the sensitive flesh. His eyes never left yours, he wanted to watch your reaction. 

  Feeling more confident, you cupped the sides of his face and pulled him off you, and the sound it made was obscene. “I want you to eat me out,” you whispered, blushing as you said it. “I want to feel myself cum on your face, please .”

  Aaron smirked as he slid down to his knees, kissing all the way down your stomach. “Good girl, you asked so nicely,” he mumbled against your skin and it sent shivers up your spine. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him a perfect few of your pussy, slick with your arousal. “Look at you, dripping down your thighs before I’ve even started. Desperation is unbecoming on you, Y/N,” he mocked. He was using your words against you, and you didn’t even care. You just wanted him to do something, anything.

  Aaron ran a finger through your folds, ghosting over your clit. You hips bucked, desperate for more contact, but his finger was already gone. “Look at me,” he ordered, and as soon as you did, you were greeted with the image of Aaron admiring the wetness that was covering his finger. Then he stuck the finger in his mouth, smirking as he did, and you moaned out at the sight. “You taste so good, Y/N.”

  “Please, Aaron, I need you to- oh! ” you begged, but you were cut off by Aaron licking a strip up your center, still avoiding your clit.

  His hands came around and grabbed onto your ass as he got to work, lapping through your folds. You tangled your hands in his hair, rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more . His tongue teased at your clit, humming every once in a while in a way that sent vibrations throughout you. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into you curling them in just the right spot.

  As Aaron’s fingers pumped in and out of you, his lips focused solely on your clit. He flicked it once with his tongue before sucking, relishing in the way you moaned out his name. You tightened your grip in Aaron’s hair as your first orgasm hit you, your whole body shaking and a string of expletives leaving your mouth. But that didn’t stop Aaron.

  He added a third finger and replaced his mouth with his thumb on your clit. “You’re going to give me another one,” he practically growled. “And then I’m going to fuck you until you’re a whining mess. This is what you asked for isn’t it?”

  When you didn’t answer right away, he turned his head to the side and bit down on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, causing you to cry out. He sucked on that same spot for a little before dragging his tongue over the newly formed bruise.

  “Yes, I want that, Aaron,” you cried out. “I want you .”

  He reattached his lips to your folds with newfound vigor, making tight circles around your clit. His free hand snaked up your sides to your breast, pinching and twisting at your nipple. You continued to beg, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. All you knew was that you were so full of want , want for your second orgasm, and want for Aaron.

  Aaron fucked you with his fingers with ease, as if he had all the time in the world. You ground down on him again, chasing your orgasm the best you could. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure, but you needed more. You opened your eyes, only to be met with Aaron’s blown pupils, eyes full of desire. You could almost feel his smirk as he wrapped his lips around your clit and pulled .

  The heel of your foot dug into his back as you cried out, your second orgasm twice as intense as your first one. Aaron’s fingers kept pumping into you lazily, and even your panting couldn’t cover the filthy sounds it was making. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs.

  Aaron slowly removed his fingers from you and lightly swiped them over your clit once more as he stood up, which almost made you completely lose your balance, a sob tearing from your mouth.

  He held his glistening fingers in front of your mouth and you opened obediently, moaning as you tasted yourself on him. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, making sure to clean every trace of you off him.

  Aaron removed his fingers from your mouth. “Do you have one more in you?” he asked, and it was softer than you were used to. “It’s okay if you don’t. We have all weekend.”

  “I need your dick in me,” you said in lieu of an answer. “Please, please fuck me.”

  Aaron pulled you to his bed and you all but collapsed onto your back, your legs still shaking from your back to back orgasms. Aaron crawled on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, all the way from your stomach to your mouth.

  “You’re so beautiful when you come for me,” he whispered, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. All of his movements were gentle, bordering on caring. “Yelling out my name so that everybody can hear that you’re mine .”

  He pressed into you slowly, his first few thrusts shallow, and you could see that it was taking all of his willpower to keep teasing you like this. You dragged your nails down his back, not caring if it left marks on him.

  “Aaron,” you whimpered, bucking your hips to try and get more movement. “Please fuck me. I need more.”

  Aaron was always good at giving you what you wanted.

  His hips snapped into you harshly, and you had to attach your lips to his shoulder to keep from screaming out. Aaron thrusted into you hard and fast, wanting to feel every inch of you. He stretched you in all the best ways and your back arched off the bed. You were holding on to Aaron like a lifeline, and all he could do was grunt out your name over and over, repeating it like a prayer. 

  Your third orgasm came fast, spreading through your body like a wildfire, and you could feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the overstimulation. Aaron’s thrusts became more desperate and harsher as he felt you squeeze around him. He dropped his head to your shoulder, his breathing ragged and you could tell that he was so close-

  “Cum for me… Fill me up,” you purred into Aaron’s ear, and that’s all it took for him to finish, holding himself deep inside you as his warmth filled you. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breath. You brought your head up to kiss Aaron, slowly and deliberately and filled with… something . You couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

  Aaron pulled out of you slowly and flopped onto the bed next to you, but he reached over and held your hand. The two of you laid like that for several moments, giving yourselves time to come back down to reality. Finally, Aaron rolled on his side to check on you. You admired the flush on his body, especially as it rose to his cheeks and made him look like he was practically glowing.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hand. “Can I do anything?” 

  You turned your head to smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze, before sitting up. Aaron was always so careful about aftercare, which you were immensely appreciative of. “Oh, I’m fine, I’m just going to go to the bathroom. A UTI might ruin the mood,” you joked.

  When you returned, Aaron was already in a pair of pajama pants and sitting in bed. He had also laid out one of his shirts for you, which caused your stomach to do flips. Despite the fact that you actually did pack pajamas, you chose to wear his shirt. You could feel his eyes watching your every movement as you made your way back into bed, leaning back against the headboard.

  Aaron placed an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him, catching his lips in another kiss, this one soft and sensual. You placed your hand on his bare chest as the kiss deepened, and Aaron’s fingers ghosting over your skin sent shivers down your spine.

  “So,” you murmured against his lips. “What are your plans for me this weekend?” It was partially a joke, but you wanted to be as prepared as possible for just how sore you were going to be on Monday after an entire three days of being thoroughly wrecked by Aaron.

  Aaron’s lips curved up into a smile as he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, letting his lips linger for just a second too long. “Hm, we can play it by ear. Although, I was thinking Indian for dinner tomorrow night?”

  You were too old to get butterflies, but there was something so soft and so sincere in his reply that it made your stomach do flips. Aaron yawned, probably not even giving a second thought to his reply, and pulled you in closer to him. 

  “Yeah,” you conceded, closing your eyes. “Indian sounds good.” You could deal with the butterflies later.

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

it took me forever to decide where to go with this chapter and i was literally getting fed up editing it 😭 i’ve been so busy with all the chaos goin on in my life rn too so yeah writing’s been feeling delayed over all but i decided to just finalize this one for rn and uhhh sorry if it seems funky or shortttt

//Chapter 3: Vanished

The next day, Trevor went back to Sterling Lake Park, after spending the night at Wade’s. He agreed to meet up with him there later, walking around the park with his earbuds in. As he threw himself down on his usual bench, he settled on listening to his usual playlist of his favorite songs. He scrolled through nosedivr once again, taking a photo of the lake. It was foggy, and the thick air sat atop the water. He liked when it was like that. A sturdy drumbeat thumped in his ears, making him feel whole. He paused it briefly, just to change it to a different song that was even louder, but with the lack of music he could now hear the crunch of gravel not too far away. He thought he told Wade to come later on? He looked up from his phone, pulling out an earbud. It was the guy from yesterday.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Amanda?” He asked, glancing around.

“Uhh she’s.. not here today. I kinda came to see if you were here. I wanna get to know more people at this park if I’m gonna hang ‘round here more I guess.”

“But she doesn’t like me?”

“She don’t gotta know.”

“Well aren’t you Boyfriend of the Year.”

“Oh uh, we aren’t dating yet.”

“Thought she was your girl though.”

“She is, she is. But it’s nothing serious. Not yet. And I don’t know what happened between you guys but you don’t seem that bad, so if I wanna talk to you that’s more of a her problem than me.”

“Huh.”

Today Michael wore an eCola shirt, which was obviously made to resemble their old logo, with blue jeans. He had on a pair of red sneakers this time to match the color of the shirt. They looked slightly newer, compared to the pair he wore yesterday. He dressed nice for such a basic style. Trevor on the other hand, threw on an old, frayed Love Fist t-shirt, and messy jeans. He wore a different pair of boots, some kind of knockoff of a popular name brand. A pair of purple lensed circular glasses sat on his head, the nose pieces caught in his hair.

“So.. uh. Mind if I sit there?”

“Not like I own the bench or anything, go right ahead.”

He cautiously sat next to Trevor, hands in his lap. Trevor started one of his other playlists up again, settling on a mix of Paramore and Green Day. He left an earbud out, just so he wouldn’t be completely rude. He mindlessly scrolled, occasionally looking back at the lake or casting a sideways glance at Michael, who was looking at him funny. Sighing, he paused his music, putting his earbuds away.

“What.”

“I.. nothin’ man. I just, I dunno. What is the point of coming here?”

“It’s a public fuckin’ park man.”

“I know, but you said that you don’t even really like the people here, so what’s the point?”

“There is no ‘point’ to it. I just like time to myself is all. These guys don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. They only start trouble when they see fit.”

“Ah… I see? What were you listening to by the way?”

Trevor stifled a groan, not really wanting to talk to the guy when he had time to freely plot his scheme.

“Pop punk shit. Ever heard of it?”

“Uh, no? I thought punk wasn’t supposed to be popular. Or fit in. Or whatever.”

“That’s merely the ideology, which I do follow, dear Michael. I just like the sound I guess. You know Paramore?”

“Not really. I don’t listen to that stuff much.”

“Then what the fuck do you listen to?”

“Not sure if it has a genre per say, but I like that song Radioactive goin’ around? Songs that sound like that I guess.”

“You like Imagine Dragons?”

“That’s what they’re called?”

Trevor could only stare at him. Was this guy living under a rock?

“Uh.. yeah. Y’know what- never mind, what else do you listen to?”

“80s music?”

No wonder this guy was unaware of who’s popular now.

“Amanda’s been trying to get me into groups like the 1975. I actually kinda like them.”

Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did.”

“They’re not that bad to be honest. She likes that weird alternative shit.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, there is a name for that genre. Indie rock. Can’t stand the stuff.”

“How come?”

“You know, you ask a lotta fuckin’ questions.”

“I’m just tryna understand this shit here. I ain’t in the loop of all these trends.”

“Well, for your information I just find the style to be too slow and whiny for my taste. I like fast, upbeat, wild stuff.”

“Any recommendations then? I wanna impress Amanda by at least knowing one artist off that nosedivr thing she goes on.”

He raised a brow, not really wanting to share anything else knowing he would just repeat it back to her, but he shrugged and continued.

“Alright. Besides pop punk, I like experimental songs. Underground groups. Crystal Castles are my favorite.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Right.”

“If you want more indie rock shit though, I suggest listening to I don’t know, the Arctic Monkeys? That seems more like her taste.”

“These bands have such weird names.”

“I think bands have always been like that.”

“Hey wait a sec, I thought you didn’t like that stuff? How do you know the name of one of those groups?”

“Ugh… I guess I might as well say it if you’re gonna get with her, but we were friends at some point. She introduced me to those bands, but even then I didn’t really like it. We had a stupid falling out I’d rather not get into.”

“Oh.. sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. Shit happens. You definitely seem like her type though, no wonder she got with you.”

“What’s her type?”

“Heh. As if I’d tell you.” He scoffed.

“C’mon man, please?”

“Nope.”

Michael frowned, slumping in his seat.

“Fine. Whatever. Not like I need to know.”

“You could at least pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do, bro.”

He sat arms crossed, turning a smidge away from Trevor. This was his opportunity to listen to his tunes again, but before he could Michael spoke up.

“Can I… can I listen to whatever you’re listening to?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna hear what you’re into.”

Trevor shot him a puzzled look.

“Uh.. okay.”

Wiping off an earbud, he handed one to Michael. He already had one in.

“Pick your poison cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“Just a nickname I give people.” He shrugged.

Michael settled on his experimental music, actually nodding along to the sound. They were closer than a minute ago, and it made Trevor uncomfortable for whatever reason. Maybe because he was never in such close proximity to strangers, but the other part of him didn’t care that much. Michael’s eyes were closed, smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah! Reminds me of synth stuff from the 80s, just more modern I guess.”

He smiled back at Michael, appreciating the fact there was someone else who liked the music he liked. The two listened to a couple different playlists he had, up until the moment Wade arrived at the park.

“Trevor! Hey!”

“Woah. Who’s your friend?”

“Hm?” He pulled out the single earbud, turning his head around. Wade had clown makeup on, making Trevor jump in his seat.

“Fucks sake. Hey Wade.”

“Ooh who’s this?”

He wasn’t sure if Wade freaked him out or not, seeing as the guy not only had matted locs, but many facial piercings as well. And the clown shit. He stood up to introduce them to one another.

“Wade, this is Michael. Michael, Wade.”

The way Michael looked at him was like a kid seeing a zoo animal for the first time. He looked bewildered, but not disgusted.

“Hi. What’s with the..?” He wavered a hand in Wade’s direction.

“Oh! It’s jus’ clown face. Not tryna scare ya or nothin’!”

“Uh huh… man. How have I never been around these parts? You guys are real different.”

“You got that right, Mike.”

“Seems like I’ve been missin’ out. I hangout with some dudes who would hate this place if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll have to meet ‘em sometime.” Trevor chuckled.

“They’re real cool guys. Didn’t expect our paths to cross, but anything’s possible in this fuckin’ city.”

“Oh yeah. Land of opportunities, for all types of wackjobs.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A hand tapped Trevor on the shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, Trevor, but are we still gonna talk about the Merryweather thingy-”

“Wade! Shut it-”

“What Merryweather thing?”

“Nothing, nothing. Not important.” He said, gritting his teeth, glare strong on Wade.

“Okay..”

“But you said we’d talk about it over icecream!”

“Later, Wade. Not right now.”

“Fiiine. Can we still get icecream though?”

“Sure. Promise. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay! Bye Trevor, bye stranger!”

Michael lifted a hand to haphazardly to wave goodbye.

“What was that about?”

“I told ya man, nothin’. Just going over some plans we’re making.”

“Is it about that special event being held there?”

“How you know about that?”

“Mandy told me.”

“Mandy… yeah. Figures as much.”

“She got an invite, and wants me to go as her plus one. I don’t know if I really wanna go though, I’m still pretty unfamiliar with all this.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Seriously, what is your beef with those guys?”

“I told you, they start shit when they want. Taught ‘em a lesson and that was it. Nearly got me banned from this place, but it was kinda worth the looks on their faces.”

“You are.. quite peculiar y’know. Anyway, you mind showing more of that music? I was honestly gettin’ a kick outta it.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He sat back down next to Michael, handing him the same earbud as before. He clicked on one of his favorite Crystal Castles songs, Vanished. As they were listening, Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hey wait a minute.. I think I’ve heard this before.”

“You have? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“No, I mean yeah I haven’t, but that’s not it. The lyrics. Vocals. I’ve heard them in a different song.”

“Oh.”

“Lemme think, lemme think, ah… I got it! Pass me your phone real quick.”

His fingers typed in the song title fast, pressing play right away. It was an indie rock song, much to Trevor’s dismay. But something stopped him from complaining, seeing how Michael’s face lit up.

“Yeah! This is it, Sex City by Van She. Y’know, I honestly think that’s neat.”

“What is?”

“The fact that a song you like, samples a song I like! Who would’ve guessed?” He said, eyes sparkling. Trevor didn’t notice how bright they were until now. The eye contact, along with the lack of space between them, made him feel stuffy again. He averted his eyes back to his phone, trying to loosen up a bit. As the song played, he savored in the sound, shocking himself a bit. The rock sound was there, but had an 80s sort of feel to it. The song finished before he knew it.

“So.. What’d ya think?”

“You know my thoughts on indie shit. Wasn’t for me, sorry.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you liked it.”

“Nope. Prefer Vanished.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I honestly think they’re both really good. You think that too, I can feel it.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

He switched the song over to that Grimes song he listened to yesterday, the two of them sitting silently. It was a pleasant afternoon they shared. Suddenly Michael’s phone went off, and he yanked the earbud out.

“Ah shit. I gotta take this. Mandy.”

“Gotcha.”

Trevor grabbed the other earbud, putting it back in. He saw Michael wave his free hand around, looking close to hurling his phone right into the lake. Trevor assumed he must’ve been shouting as well, from the way other people were looking at him. Hanging up not much later, he returned to the bench, as Trevor put his earbuds away.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

“So.. how’d it go?”

“She’s finally not mad at me anymore, but demanded I go take her shopping now. I swear, she’s gonna clear out my bank account or something.”

“How? You guys aren’t even dating.”

“I know, but I just can’t say no to her.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look, I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, but I really gotta go before she goes back to being pissed at me. See ya around?”

“I’ll be here man.”

Michael stood up, storming away. Seemed like he had a short temper, huh? He wondered to himself how long he was gonna stick around, seeing how Amanda’s dating history was… an extensive list. He thought back to last night, when he had seen that post of them, remembering the fact that no guy stayed for longer than a week. It almost made him bummed, seeing as he only had Ron and Wade for friends. Lester too, but that was on rare occasion. Shit. The plans. What time was it?

“Ah, fuck me.” He muttered. How did he let the day go by so quick?

He shot a text to Wade, telling him to grab Ron and meet at some icecream place. He did promise Wade after all.

Ron ended up meeting them there a little bit later, apologizing profusely before Trevor told him to just sit down and shut up. He did just that, almost apologizing once more.

“Now, let’s get down to business. Who do we know that would help us sneak into that club to cause sheer utter mayhem?”

Ron raised his hand excitedly.

“I could get Floyd maybe-”

“Definite fuckin’ no. He would have a heart attack the minute he set foot in there.”

This was getting nowhere. He tossed his head back to look up at the sky. As he did, he saw a couple walking out of the icecream place.

“Oh fucking hell.”

Was this guy following him or something? He snapped his head forward, trying to be a little more hidden.

“What? Trevor what is it?”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down Ron!”

He made all three of them lower their heads as the couple walked away, peeking over his shoulder to make sure they were gone. As he did, he could’ve sworn he saw Michael looking back at him. The both of them turned away as quick as possible from the split second of eye contact.

“Trevor?” Ron repeated.

“It was nothing. Just thought I saw someone.”

“Ain’t that the Michael fella I met today?”

“Nope. Don’t think it is.”

“Are ya sure-”

“Pretty fucking positive. Now, back on topic.”

The next hour or so still went nowhere. Wade had gone through two servings of icecream, and Ron started to get restless. Trevor was just bored.

“Ughhh there has to be something we can do!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Trevor. We’ll find someone, soon. There’s enough time isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but I’m not waitin’ til the last possible fuckin’ second to get a guy to help us out here.”

“But we still have time.”

“If you fuckin’ say so Ron.”

The three of them called it a night, as Trevor tossed around the idea of possibly getting Michael involved in his head. On one hand he wanted to out of spite just to make Amanda and the other hipsters mad, and on the other he didn’t want to screw up whatever new friendship he had started with Michael. Ron did say they had time to find someone soon. They weren’t exactly in a rush, but he still wanted to make sure their plan was concrete. They all went back to Wade’s, Trevor deciding to take a walk along the beach. He threw on the same playlist from earlier, watching the sunset. As he walked, he didn’t pay much mind to where he was going, bumping into someone.

“Ah fuck, watch where you’re going-”

“Shit, sorry man-”

As they spun around from the collision, he realized exactly who he had run into.

“Trevor?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck? Are you following me or something?”

“Huh?”

“This is the third time I’ve seen you today. What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, it’s a public fuckin’ beach man.” He said, mocking the comment Trevor had made earlier.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Hey, I’m just tellin’ you how it is. I didn’t purposely search for you, hell I didn’t even know you lived this way.”

“I do. So make like a tree and fuck off.” He said bitterly.

“Woah, chill the fuck out. What’s your deal? I thought we were cool man.”

“I don’t like being followed.”

“I just told you I wasn’t!”

“It doesn’t exactly seem like it. You just so happen to look for me this morning, and just happen to go to the same icecream place I went, and then I find you here? I mean Jesus-”

“I’m telling you, it’s all purely coincidence.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuckin’ hell man..” He mumbled.

“Y’know, you’re as fuckin’ stubborn as Amanda is. I already told you-”

Trevor balled his fists, before jabbing a finger into Michael’s chest.

“Don’t fucking compare me to her.”

Michael threw his hands up defensively, not realizing he touched a nerve.

“Woah woah, easy dude. I didn’t think it was that bad between you guys.”

He exhaled loudly, unclenching his hands.

“It wasn’t. Isn’t. Just.. don’t compare me to her.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard himself.

“Look, I think you’re cool and all but you can’t flip out on me like that. I mean we are just getting to know each other y’know. I can’t have you wanting to bite my head off like that if I just so happen to keep running into you. I really am just trying to navigate the area better, so forgive me if I came off as some sorta fuckin’ stalker. Amanda went home and I had nothing better to do so I chose to walk over this way.”

“Hmph. Fine. Whatever.”

“So we good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, since we’re already here why don’t we just hangout or something?���

Trevor folded his arms, trying to look like he didn’t want to spend another minute with him. It didn’t really work though, because he actually did want to talk to him more.

“If you insist.”

“Alrighty.”

The two of them started to head in the direction of the boardwalk, neither one speaking yet. After finding a bench to sit on as the sun sunk below the horizon, the silence was still there. This sort of thing was bizarre for both of them in different ways. Michael never really frequented these parts of LS, and Trevor never really hit it off with any kind of stranger. Ron and Wade were exceptions if anything, and he had known Lester for a while now. Yet there was something about this guy that didn’t make him feel like he was spending time with a stranger, even though he knew jack shit about him. He might as well try to make small talk.

“So I-”

“So uhh-”

They spoke over each other while trying to start up a conversation, making things feel a little more awkward.

“Shit sorry, you go first.”

“Nah nah you go.”

“Um. Okay. So.. tell me about yourself? We haven’t really talked about much besides music.”

“Yeah.. right. What do ya wanna know?”

“I just asked you to tell me about yourself, so it’s your job to decide what to say.”

Michael gave him a sardonic smile in response to that, partly because he wasn’t sure what to bring up about himself. It seemed like they were gonna be here a while if they wanted to say the most basic shit you say when getting to know someone.

“Well, I ain’t that interesting if you really need to know. I’m guessing you already know about my whole ‘affinity for the 80s’ thing, like the culture n shit that came from it. Real sick stuff.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah. Anyway, if you really want to know plain shit about me though, I will tell ya that my favorite color’s blue.”

Trevor snickered at that.

“Pfft, seriously? We’re talking favorite colors now?”

“Hey man, you said you wanted to know more about me.”

“Uh yeah, but that’s so fuckin’ silly.”

“Maybe it is, but what about you? You got one?”

“Favorite color? You kiddin’?”

“I’m waiting..”

“Uh huh… I’ll give. Always liked the color red I guess. Like, in variety. Not picky about something as childish as that.”

“What’s childish about that?”

“Cuz only kids exchange that whole ‘oh what’s your favorite color?’ thing. It’s like if I were to ask you what your favorite dinosaur is.”

“Hmm.. I’d probably say a T-Rex.”

“Oh now you’re just pulling my dick. And no, I’m not telling you what mine is just because you did.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you though. That was all you.”

“Mm… shut it.”

“You got one though?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Ah ah, I didn’t ask which one, I asked if you had one.”

“Well I don’t, so knock it off.”

“That’s fair. I won’t push.”

They grew silent for the second time that night, before Trevor mumbled something under his breath.

“It’s a pterodactyl..”

“What was that?”

He forced a breath through his nose, acting annoyed.

“It’s a fuckin’ pterodactyl. That’s mine. Okay?”

“Hah, okay. Any reason why?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation about getting to know each other man.”

“Ugh, I know that.” He said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“I think it’s cool that they could fly and shit. I like flying.”

“You like flying?”

“Loved it.”

“Wait, you tellin’ me you fly? Like, planes and shit?”

Trevor winced at the words, regretting what he just said.

“I did.. at some point. Air Force shit. They said I was one of the best they’d seen in a while but I.. left. Sort of.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t exactly leave on my own accord. More or less got kicked out.”

“How come-”

“I don’t like talking about it. I know we’re opening up or whatever the fuck but that.. that’s still too soon for me to want to bring up. Especially to someone I barely know.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He said, even though it really wasn’t. It’s not like Michael knew though, he really wasn’t trying to prod in a bad way.

It was almost pitch black by the time their conversation got to that point, only distant streetlight and the nearby pier lighting up their surroundings. The whole mood had shifted, and both of them decided to just break it off there.

“Hey uh, I’ll probably see you tomorrow man. If I’m with Amanda I think I’ll just send a wave or something your way.”

“Got it. See ya.”

“Bye.”

Trevor stayed put, watching Michael leave as he turned down a random one way street. This guy was tripping him out and he couldn’t pin point why. It was getting late though, and walked off himself back to Wade’s. He’ll save that vexed question for another night.

//ahhhhhh i rlly did not know what i wanted to do with this….,,., sorry if this wasn’t as good as the first two !! i alrdy know i repeated a bunch of stuff in there and i feel like it got kinda sloppy so again, soz (including typos or whtevr)

but uhhhh anyway yeah i cut it off here bc i wanted to continue some of this shit in the next chapter ig lol,, more stuff to come soon god willing