#look how far i went for fear of losing you

[wanderingblindly]

October Birds from Oscar's POV for the celebratory prompt fills if you're up for it 🥰

Congrats on hitting your blog milestones!!!

Hello lovely!!! I saw that you specified a cute scene, so I went with something... kind of cute? Cute in the sense that we get to see Oscar Thinking About Lando :) This is the "you've got grease on your nose" scene from chapter 4, aka the resolution from Lando running away in chapter 3. Hope u enjoy!!! Celebratory prompt list here!

October Birds Ch 4: Oscar's Version

He tries not to regret it.

If he looks at it objectively, there's nothing to regret. Lando's an adult, he can't force him to say anything he doesn't want to – there's not some looming threat between them, extortion. There's an imbalance, maybe, in the sense that Lando has nowhere to go and Oscar has nothing to lose, but there's not much to be done about that.

And he would never hold that over Lando, the fact that they're living in his home.

But still, he has to try to keep the ugly feelings down: the second guessing, the nagging belief that maybe he'd finally stepped on a floorboard too far past squeaking – that it snapped under his curious weight. He ignores the fear that maybe Lando won't open back up to him one of these days, and that would have to be fine.

It's not like he could have him forever, anyways.

As he goes through his routine – the parts familiar in his hands, easy enough to let his mind wander – Oscar drifts back to the night before.

To the way Lando spat their silly New Year's resolution back at him, filled with teeth but lacking venom.

He didn't really want to hurt Oscar, not really. He could see it in his eyes – so endlessly expressive, crystal clear looking glass leading to his heart; Lando was scared. Terrified. He was cowering like he could sense an impending storm, rolling dark and heavy over the horizon.

But Lando wasn't afraid of him.

And yet he lashed out, like the thing he was truly afraid of wasn't there to bear the brunt.

Oscar hums to himself as he turns it over in his mind, thoughts drifting aimlessly to the way Lando sucked on his lower lip as he tried to regain control of himself, how the thin skin around his eyes went pink when he cries angry, frustrated tears.

He's like stained glass in all of his colors, the broken pieces slotted together. In the way he glows in the sun, refracting rays from its journey east to west.

Oscar snaps back to attention as something shakes in front of him – eyes immediately registering Feast's pastry box. And on the other end of it, looking at him with an outstretched hand – distanced – is Lando.

His chest relaxes, having grown unexpectedly tight.

Lando looks like a kid before him, pouting a little – something put-on. Oscar would reckon he's nervous, maybe something more. Something he hasn't earned the right to know yet.

"Bad time?" Lando asks, voice a step too high, like he's trying to come off as relaxed.

Oscar smiles at him, smiles a bit more when Lando's shoulders ease. "For pastries?"

"And me."

It's unexpectedly honest. "And you."

He throws the ball back in his court anyways, not sure where they stand – what Lando needs from him. Maybe what he needs from Lando. There's a pause, not that Oscar minds; he could stare at Lando forever, something about his face – his micro-expressions, eyes constantly shifting – that's endlessly fascinating.

"Is that a yes?"

"Never a bad time." For you, Oscar bites his tongue. It's selfish to add, selfish to put that sort of expectation on Lando – someone who's heart already seem to bear the weight of something Oscar may never truly know.

Lando looks at his face more closely, and Oscar knows he can see him flush. He's long-since accepted it. "You've got a bit of, um. On your nose, you –"

"Here?" Oscar's heart sings when Lando rolls his eyes, scoffing at his antics; it's relief, relief and something a bit more selfish, a bit closer to his ribs. He continues spreading the grease around his nose, "C'mon, Lando. Where? Here?"

"You're like a frickin' kid, mate."

Lando's never touched him first.

He wonders if it would mean anything if he did.

He'd like it to, maybe. If he lets himself stand true to their resolution, honesty.

[claraoswalds]

The Girl Who Died // Hell Bent

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

only took me a decade to figure out the doctor was trying to stop clara from dying by saving ashildr

[displayheartcode]

sorry to be back on my series 9 of dw madness. it will happen again.

[lost-romantique]

The Evolution of Blitzø’s Character Growth- Stolitz (Season 2.5)

Blitz starts off "When I See Him" not wanting to think about the complexities of his and Stolas' relationship, so he decides to focus on the one thing he does know: sex.

In "When I See Him" Stolas and Blitz are meant to be never on the same page, even going as far as to have Blitz only sing-talk as opposed to Stolas' Disney-esque style of singing.

He goes out of his way, excitedly looking forward to the sex they'll have afterwards. He's only thinking about the sex.

Full Moon happens and Blitz is hurt and betrayed, as he genuinely has no idea how to process the confession.

Beginning of Apology Tour Blitz attempts to win Stolas back, only for it to end horribly as he self-sabotages the fuck out of everything he has, refusing to let go of the mask he wears.

Later on...

Blitz is heartbroken to hear Stolas sing, and his admission, "I don't think you meant to hurt me because I don't think it meant a thing at all" destroys him.

He tries to make it right with Stolas (who is drunk), apologizes to him, lets go of the mask he wears, only to end up ultimately giving up and letting Stolas go in the end.

A month passes and Blitz has essentially given up on life, driving his business to the freaking ground...

One thing is for sure, he feels a lot of regret for what happened with Stolas, and has essentially given up on being with him.

A lot of shit happens to Blitz in Ghostfuckers as the trauma that he's kept buried for fifteen years is forcefully pried open with a wrench.

Only for Millie to be the one to save Blitz in the end...

Episode ends with major character development for Blitz as his mask falls off, and he promises to butt out of the M&M relationship, and as he subtly admits and acknowledges his feelings for Stolas....

What's beautiful about the Stolitz Duet in Mastermind is that it perfectly shows Blitzø’s character growth...

How Blitz went from initially thinking only about sex in regards to his relationship with Stolas....

How Blitz was never once was on the same page with Stolas in their first duet together...

Only to now be able to perfectly harmonize with Stolas in regards to their deep feelings for one another...

Stolas admitting that he sees Blitz as his shining light that taught him to be his own person...

To Blitz admitting that he sees Stolas as the key to his heart that he's kept locked up for years...

For them to finally sing in perfect harmony as they admit their genuine undying love for each other.

And when the fear of losing Stolas permanently, hits Blitz like a motherfucking truck...

He's finally... finally able to let go of his mask around Stolas as he does what he can to comfort him after he lost everything.

Showing the small bits of romantic intimacy that he couldn't reciprocate back in Apology Tour.

Blitzø Buckzo, you make me fucking sick... how dare you be this fucking soft and cute and tender and loving. This man is fully aware that Stolas is still angry at him, but he doesn't care, he's just happy to have his birb back.

[grandline-fics]

Unconscious Protector

DESCRIPTION: When you suddenly lose consciousness 

WARNINGS: Descriptions of fainting and sleep walking

CHARACTERS: Sabo, Killer, Marco | Luffy, Zoro | Law, Sanji, Ace

WORDS: 2,247

A/N: Here's another part for this prompt that you guys voted for my belated birthday and 2k follower milestone event. I'll probably do another one of these with other characters at some stage but I hope you all enjoy this version with these characters.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SABO

When Sabo needed a sparring partner there was no-one he sought out more than you. You both made it gruelling and challenging but also fun in equal measure. Your sparring sessions could last as long as you both could stand or until someone else came along in need of either of you for a meeting or a mission. Some people would have called your long bouts impressive which he’d agree with. But when they��d call it excessive, Sabo would disagree. Because of the busy schedules you both had and missions now taking you both longer and further away from the base it meant the sparring was really the only opportunity he had to make spending time with you plausible without fearing a rejection had he just asked you out like a normal person.  

Sabo walked through the base, his eyes searching and bright as he looked for you. He slid to a halt and whipped his head to the side when he finally spotted you out of the corner of his eye. Excited he turned towards you and called out your name, grinning when you immediately turned and beamed when you smiled at him in greeting. When he approached, his grin hardened and he closed the distance, throwing his arm out which you managed to block with your forearm. Obviously he wasn’t going at full strength or speed and neither were you. At this point it could be compared to two normal people saying ‘hello’ but then again, you and Sabo’s relationship never could be defined as normal. 

You never could say no to Sabo and his requests to train. It was how you could selfishly have alone time with him. Most of the time the sparring sessions were more fun than gruelling and you didn’t realise you’d been training until you felt the effects the next day. Now had you used your brain a little more instead of thinking about your crush on the Chief of Staff you should have declined this sparring session because you were already exhausted having just returned from a mission. You should have just done the smart thing and said 'maybe tomorrow’ or even 'maybe later’ instead you all but raced him to the training room. Now you were truly suffering for you lack of thought. Attacks you could have avoided with ease took greater focus than normal. You were still holding your own but now you could feel the extra weight on your limbs and noticed the sting in your eyes. The exhaustion was mounting but you still couldn’t bring yourself to stop sparring.    

Sabo caught your wrist when your threw a very obvious attack at him. Quickly he spun to knock you to the floor but his confident smirk feel into a horrified expression as your body went slack and eyes fell closed, unconscious before you’d even hit the floor. Frightened for a moment he’d went too far even though he knew you’d both fought each other with more ferocity in the past, Sabo quickly checked you over, desperate to make sure he hadn’t actually hurt you. When he was assure by his own observation that you’d just fallen asleep he finally let out the breath he’d been holding and slowly lay down to settle beside you on the training mats. He wasn’t going to count this as a win in the long running and very balanced tally of wins and loses between your spars.

Instead he tucked a hand behind his head and closed his eyes. If anyone came by they’d just think the two of you were both relaxing together. Sabo also used the time to let his own body unwind, realising that maybe he was putting his own body under too much strain too, it would’t have been good if he fainted in the middle of training too. Silently he was grateful no one was around to see this and was able to enjoy spending the chance to rest peacefully alongside you. Now Sabo began to think of other ways he could spend time with you. 

KILLER

The Victoria Punk was always loud and energetic. On days when the crew were navigating fierce storms and engaged in explosive battles, it followed the same code as it did when things were peaceful and fun; the louder the better. For two days straight you and the rest of the Kid Pirates sailed through one of the worst storms you’d encountered in a long while, yelling out to each other and shouting acknowledgement to Kid and Killer as you hurried through the rain and crashing lightning and rolling thunder that you’d heard their orders. Then came the explosions of canons and gun fire when a Marine ship appeared through the darkness and heavy veil of rain, launching their attack when they thought your crew’s attention was distracted by the weather but they soon learned the chaos was what you all thrived on and met the challenge with wide grins and drawn weapons. 

The Marines engaged with you were relentless, you’d give them that much but ultimately they were overconfident and their weaknesses could be exploited by you and the others with ease. When the storm died, so did the fight, the Kid Pirates the victors over both encounters and your cheers filled the air as the night skies cleared. Now that the waters were calmed the only thing on all of your minds now was the thought of an all out celebration. With everyone’s duties completed, you all cleared room on the deck and dragged out the barrels and bottles of booze and anything that was or could loosely resemble something to sit on. As the ship’s doctor you had to tend to those hurt-with thankfully just minor injuries- from both the storm and fight and were last to find somewhere to sit. You grabbed your drink and scanned the area already loud and infectiously in good spirits. Your gaze zeroed in on a spot and you closed the distance, sitting down on the deck and settling your back against Killer’s leg. 

Beneath his mask, Killer briefly glanced to see who was using him as an improvised support and couldn’t help but tense slightly to see it was you. You and Killer had a casual back and forth with each other. A flirty comment here, an affectionate touch there. Never anything heated, usually just the brush of fingers against the other when helping out in the ship’s duties or a brief placing of a hand on the other when either of you needed to get by in the usually bustling and hectic hallways and deck. Killer usually favoured his hand on your lower back and you favoured your hand on his upper arm. For you to settle against him shouldn’t have been a surprise or anything new by comparison but still Killer couldn’t help but be aware of your presence. Even while you were talking away to Wire and he joked with Killer it was hard to fully ignore how effortlessly comfortable it was.

Further into the night, you shifted slightly to get more comfortable, lounging back instead of just sitting, and lay your head back while you continued the conversations. The second you adjusted though, Killer’s hand instinctively settled against the back of your head; keeping you in your comfortable position and began to absently play with your hair. Kid faltered mid-sentence with his second-in command to glance briefly down to see you had already all but melted into Killer’s touch, your eyes growing heavier as you tried to focus on your conversation. Unfortunately in a matter of seconds you were out like a light and your nearly empty mug dropped with a dull thunk which caught Killer’s attention your way. 

Across the deck two other crew members burst out into loud laughter at their own conversation causing you you stir slightly. Swiftly Killer grabbed an empty bottle and threw it at their feet with precision that ensured they wouldn’t get hurt but definitely caught their attention. Nervously they looked towards their vice-captain who rose a finger to his mask in a clear signal to shush. Effectively everyone on board lowered their voices to a more respectable level which for anyone else would still be pretty loud but so long as you continued to sleep soundly, your unintentional guard dog of the night was content.

MARCO

Everything was calm on the Moby Dick as it usually was. As an Emperor’s ship as noticeable as his, practically everyone with any sense in their skulls left Whitebeard well enough alone. Night watches were merely a formality and mostly to keep an eye out in case a freak storm hit or another Emperor felt inclined to cause trouble out of boredom. Marco used the quiet of night to go over his medical stock and see to any last minute tasks that he couldn’t get to when the ship was rowdy in the day. In the middle of writing his list of what medicines and ingredients he needed to replenish, Marco stifled a small yawn. 

Not wanting to stop and leave the remainder of his duty for another night he decided instead to pause and go to the ship’s kitchen. As much as he tried to avoid drinking coffee after a certain time of the day he knew the caffeine would help. When he stepped out onto the deck he heard a yelp from above and lazily glanced up to see one of the younger and newer additions to the crew peer out over the top of the crow’s nest. They let out a shaky sigh of relief to see it was just Marco staring up at them blankly. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost-yoi.”

“I did!” The crewmate hissed, casting a nervous glance out onto the large ship’s deck. Marco tilted his head curiously and looked around the darkened deck. The moon was completely shrouded in cloud so the lack of light and chill in the air could be eerie to some, easy to let the mind play tricks on itself at this hour especially when alone. The pirate in the Crow’s Nest could feel Marco’s skepticism and bristled defensively. “I know what I saw! You have the powers of a mythical creature, you can't tell me ghosts don’t exist!”

“Didn’t say they didn’t” Marco chuckled with a lazy shrug. He’d seen enough strange and crazy things on these seas to encourage an open mind even after all of these years. Still though, a ghost on the ship was a new one. Holding back a yawn, Marco stretched his arms out and smiled calmly. “I’ll take a look around. If you see the ghost, just call okay?”

Without waiting for the response, Marco continued towards the kitchen, pausing by the door when he heard a faint creak against the floorboards. Slowly Marco looked behind him and around the corner seeing there was no-one there. Letting out a small chuckle, he shook his head and pressed inside only to suppress the curse in his throat and hold back the urge to jump in shock when the outline of a person was standing in the corner of kitchen. Flicking on the light Marco let out a small breath to see that it was you. “You’re playing the long game waiting in here and trying to scare someone-yoi.“ He teased lightly only to become concerned when you didn’t respond. Instead you remained in the corner. “Hey, you okay?”

Marco approached slowly and only saw now that you were asleep, eyes heavy lidded as you stared emptily at the wall. Now he saw you were sleep walking. Knowing better than to wake you, Marco approached carefully and gently set his hand against your wrist, lightly coaxing you to turn.

“Time for bed.” He instructed softly, smiling when you seemed to react enough to his words. Slowly you walked towards the door and Marco could see now why your movements could have been mistaken for a ghost on board. Marco’s smile twitched when you made the wrong turn after leaving the kitchen, needing him to softly redirect you with another subtle touch which thankfully set you on the right route. “There we go.”

For the entirety of the confusing, winding and slow paced journey you took through the ship Marco remained your vigilant protector. In your sleep induced state you seemed determined to veer in every wrong direction, even getting close to walking straight into one of the canons and potentially hurting yourself which you would have had Marco not been there to stop you. Finally he managed to help you into your sleeping quarters and assisted you into your bed, your body relaxing instantly. Exhausted Marco rubbed his eyes and headed straight for his own bed, managing to catch a couple hours sleep before the sun rose. 

As expected you had no memory of your sleepwalking adventure but approached him at breakfast with a bright smile. “Wanna hear what I dreamt about last night?”

“This should be good.” Marco grinned, unable to be in a low mood when you smiled at him like that.

“Dreamt I was lost in a maze.” You began. “No matter which way I went I just couldn’t get out. Next thing I knew, you were there and rescued me. Guess I can always count on you to help me out.” At that Marco’s smile grew. 

“Always.”

——————————————-

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[oldsoul007]

hope you like scary movies, cus you’re in one

a/n: I may or may not saw an edit…

ghostface!nicholas x reader

It was a quiet night in woodsboro , like it always is. I was a nanny for a little boy so I could get through college. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and I glanced at the screen. Unknown Caller. I pressed declined but it repeatedly kept calling. Then the landline they had started ringing. I hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Hello?" I said, my voice cautious.

"Hello, y/n," a distorted voice replied. It sent a chill down my spine. "Do you like scary movies?"

I recognized the voice immediately. It was Ghostface, the infamous killer that terrorize my dad in 1996. But something felt off. There was a familiarity in the tone, beneath the distortion.

"Who is this? You’re not funny” Y/n asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Guess," the voice taunted. "Or maybe I'll just have to come find you."

My heart raced, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew this person. She thought about Nicholas and how he always played pranks on her. Could it be him?

"Alright, Nicholas," I said, calling his bluff. "Cut it out. I know it's you."

There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice changed, becoming softer and unmistakably Nicholas.

"You got me," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I couldn't resist. I've been watching too many horror movies lately."

I let out a relieved laugh. "You really had me going there for a second. But seriously, you need to stop watching those movies."

Nicholas chuckled. "I know, I know. But hey, it got you to pick up the phone, didn't it?"

I shook my head, smiling. "Yeah, it did. But next time, maybe just send a text?"

"Deal," Nicholas agreed, his tone warm. As I hung up, I couldn't help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for Nicholas. Even when he was being mischievous, he had a way of making me smile.

I had been feeling uneasy for days. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It started with strange noises outside my window at night and escalated to finding eerie notes left in places only I would notice. The notes were signed by "Ghostface," and they sent chills down my spine.

One evening, as I was walking home from work, I heard footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace, but the footsteps matched mine, growing closer with each step. I turned a corner and ducked into an alley, hoping to lose my pursuer. But as I looked back, I saw the unmistakable mask of Ghostface looming in the shadows.

My heart raced as I tried to find a way out. Suddenly, Ghostface lunged at me, pinning her against the wall. "Why are you doing this?" I cried, her voice trembling with fear.

The masked figure was silent for a moment before reaching up to remove the mask. To my shock, it was Nicholas, my boyfriend, standing there with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Nicholas? What the hell?" My fear quickly turned to anger. "You scared me half to death!"

Nicholas looked genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean to frighten you that much. I thought it would be a fun Halloween prank. I guess I went too far."

My anger softened slightly as I saw the remorse in his eyes. "You think?" I said, still shaken. "You could have just told me you wanted to scare me a little, not make me think I was being stalked by a killer."

Nicholas sighed. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I just wanted to do something different, but I realize now it was a terrible idea. Can you forgive me?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "Just promise me you'll never do something like this again."

"I promise," Nicholas said, pulling me into a hug. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

As we walked home together, I couldn't help but feel relieved that the nightmare was over. But I also realized that Nicholas had a lot to learn about what constituted a "fun" prank.

“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with ghostface” “babe it’s Halloween losen up!” He said as we walked hand in hand.

I had always felt a chill in the air around Halloween, but this year, it was different. I had my boyfriend, nicholas. He was charming, funny, and had a smile that could light up the darkest night. Everyone loved him. But there was something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

One evening, me and nick decided to attend the town's annual Halloween party. The old mansion where the party was held was decked out in spooky decorations, with cobwebs, eerie lighting, and ghostly figures lurking in the corners. Everyone was in costume, and I had chosen to go as a ____.

As I mingled with friends, I couldn't help but notice that Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. I asked around, but no one seemed to know where he was. Just as I was about to give up, I was walking by the stairs when I heard someone yelling.

I try not to be nosey but go up the stairs anyone. Maybe nick was up here anyway. I walked through the house looking in the rooms finding nothing. When I open the door i see some kid in a ghost face costume hop out the window. “What the fuck” I say under my breath. I pull out my phone to text him. No service?

I heard commotion downstairs so I ran down to see what’s happening. Everyone was gone from the house. I heard a floorboard squeak behind me.

It was Ghostface, and my heart raced. The figure moved silently through the room, its eyes fixed on me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as Ghostface approached, stopping just inches away from me.

"Y/n," a familiar voice whispered from behind the mask. My eyes widened in shock as Ghostface removed the mask to reveal Nicholas's face. He smiled, but it wasn't the warm, friendly smile I was used to. It was cold and sinister.

"I've been watching you," Nicholas said, his voice low and menacing. "You have no idea who I really am."

I took a step back, my mind racing. The pieces started to fall into place—the strange disappearances, the eerie feeling I got around him, the way he always seemed to know too much. I realized with a sinking feeling that my new boyfriend was none other than the real Ghostface.

Before I could react, Nicholas lunged at me, but I was quick. I grabbed a nearby candlestick and swung it at him, knocking him off balance. I ran through the mansion, my heart pounding in my chest, desperately searching for a way out.

As I reached the front door, I could hear Nicholas's footsteps behind me. I flung the door open and ran into the night, vowing never to trust anyone so easily again. But before I could even get out of the door he grabbed my arm pulling me back in. I try fighting him off but he grabs both of my wrist. “I’m not gonna hurt you y/n!” “Why, why did you do this?!” I yell looking him in the eyes. “What even is a motive?”

[kennarose1108]

Clingy (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

At the beginning of your relationship, Miguel was distant from you as you expected him to be. He didn't want to get close to you because he didn't want to feel the need to depend on you. He lost so much and he was afraid if he got close to you he'd lose you too. But as time went on he grew more attached to you. You were so kind and beautiful he just couldn't get enough of you.

But as he got more attached his fear of losing you grew and it got more clingy towards you, afraid if he let you go you'd somehow die on him. He didn't want to smother you of course and he kept his distance when he realized he was doing too much but you honestly didn't mind his clinginess. It always reminded you of how far you came with him and you felt loved.

Nights were the worst for Miguel though, he always clung to you when you both went to bed and if he woke up and you weren't in his arms he'd always check the bed and every time you were there. He'd reach his hand out to touch the fabric and your body was always there to meet with his hand. Then he'd pull you closer to him and he'd fall back asleep. He was afraid in the night someone would take you away from him, it was one of his worst fears.

Because of his anxieties, you tried not to get out of bed at night. If you needed to use the bathroom you'd try to be quiet to not wake him and freak him out. And you always succeeded. But tonight was different. You woke up and felt your throat was abnormally dry. You couldn't fall back asleep with your throat like this, it just wasn't possible. So you quietly got out of bed and headed to the kitchen.

As you were in the kitchen Miguel woke up. He felt you weren't in his arms anymore and he reached out to touch you… But you weren't there. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and continued to search for you, but still nothing. Then his eyes shot open and he noticed the empty spot next to him and the panic set in. He sat up and called for you, "Y/N?!" He yelled. His anxieties were telling him the worst, he was afraid someone kidnapped you or even killed you.

He hopped out of bed and pushed through the bedroom door, "Y/N?!?" He yelled again. You jumped as the impact of the door hitting the wall scared you. His body psychically untensed when he saw you in the kitchen with a glass of water in your hand. "Miguel? Honey, what's wrong?" You ask as you set the glass on the counter with a concerned look on your face. His body was visibly shaking and his breathing was hard. You walked over to Miguel and gently brushed your hand against his cheek. "I'm okay… I was just getting some water… I'm still here with you, don't worry." You say while resting your hand against his chest. You felt his heart beating fast and you frowned. "Go back to bed Miguel… I'll be there in a moment, okay?" You say with a reassuring smile. Miguel nodded and slowly walked back into the room.

You walked back to your glass and drank down the liquid. When you finished you placed the glass into the sink and walked back into the room. When you walked in Miguel was sitting up in bed and looking down at the bed in sadness. Your heart broke at the sight of him looking so defeated. You walked over to Miguel and ran your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch and sighed. You crawled into his lap and straddled his hips. You pulled him into a hug and he wraps his arms tightly around your body. He rested his face into the crook of your neck and you rubbed your fingernails gently along his scalp and his back.

"I'm sorry…" Miguel mumbled. "You have nothing to be sorry for… It's okay to be afraid." You say while placing a kiss on his head. "Yeah but… I feel like I'm smothering you…" Miguel murmurs. "Miguel. Look at me." You say while pulling away and cupping his cheeks. He looked into your eyes and you noticed the tears in them, you frown even more. "You're not smothering me. I love being close to you and I understand why you're afraid. Nothing that you have done has ever bothered me." You say with a reassuring smile. Your words seemed to relax Miguel. He nodded and he blinked away the tears in his eyes. "Okay… Now, let's go back to sleep hm?" You say before placing a kiss on his nose.

As you were about to crawl to your side of the bed Miguel stopped you. One of the hands that were on your waist traveled up and cupped one of your cheeks. He then leaned in and kissed your lips and you returned the kiss with a smile. The kiss was gentle and full of love… Just full of love, nothing else. He pulled away and smiled at you. You smiled back before crawling to your side of the bed. You went under the covers and laid down, Miguel doing the same. He pulled you close to his body and held you tight and you returned the favor by wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He sighed in relaxation and he felt comfortable and content with you.

"Te amo más que a nada mi amor…" Miguel whispered in your ear as you drifted off into sleep.

[trulyumai]

belittling the reign

synopsis: the people began to doubt Geta, and in return, so did members of the senate. The emperor began to act wildly, his temper just a reach away. It all came crashing down when a man of the senate brought the empress up and how she would fall with the emperor.

pairing: Emperor geta / empress! reader

Warnings: Violence, anger, choking, death. Protectiveness/Possessive.

The room was dim, save for the flicker of torchlight dancing across the stone walls. Geta sat at the long table, his goblet half-full, eyes fixed on the dull gleam of his dagger. He had been deep in thought, tired from the endless political maneuvering of the Senate, when the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his silence.

The door creaked open, and a figure entered—Marcus, a senator known for his sharp tongue and sharper ambitions. Geta didn’t look up as the man approached, choosing instead to swirl the dark wine in his cup.

“Geta,” Marcus began, his voice oozing with false politeness. “I trust you’re well this evening.”

Geta grunted in response, not bothering to hide his disdain. He knew this man all too well—his visits were never without some form of scheming. Marcus circled the room slowly, his fingers tracing the edge of the table as he moved closer.

“You know, it’s funny,” Marcus continued, his tone casual, though laced with something more sinister. “There’s been a lot of talk in the streets lately. The citizens are starting to wonder how much longer Rome will have to bear the burden of a violent ruler.” The man let out a chuckle, it reverberated through the room and Geta swore his fingers shook with an emitting anger.

The emperor’s eyes flicked upward for the first time, meeting Marcus’s gaze with a steely intensity. The senator smiled, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned against the table, arms crossed.

“They say,” Marcus went on, “that there will soon be a new emperor. A man who leads not with blood, but with wisdom. One who doesn’t lose himself to rage every time a senator dares to speak out. The people... they’re excited, Geta. They’re waiting for the day Rome is free of your wrath… Maybe Caracalla would be a better fit?”

Geta’s grip tightened on the goblet, the muscles in his arm tensing as he fought to contain his growing anger. “You tread on dangerous ground, Marcus,” he warned, his voice low and cold.

Breath in. Breath out. Remember your wife, the sweet laugh, those little dimples that littered your face when he told a good story.

But Marcus was undeterred. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and smug as he whispered, “Perhaps you’re the one who should be careful. People don’t fear you anymore, Geta. They’re waiting for your death. And when it comes, oh how they’ll cheer. Finally, a ruler worthy of the Empire will take your place.”

A dark laugh escaped Marcus’s lips, but it was quickly cut off by Geta’s sudden movement. In a flash, the emperor had risen from his seat, standing tall over the senator. Marcus stiffened, but continued, confidence seemed to block the mans rational fears. “What will your pretty little wife do when you’re gone, I wonder? Maybe she’ll find solace in someone with real power.”

That was the last mistake.

Geta’s fury ignited like a wildfire, burning through every shred of control he had left. Before Marcus could react, Geta’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the man’s throat. The senator’s eyes widened in shock as he gasped for breath, his hands clawing uselessly at Geta’s iron grip.

“You dare threaten my wife?” Geta growled, his voice trembling with rage. His face was twisted in a snarl, the veins in his neck bulging as he squeezed tighter. “You think you can speak to me of death? Speak to me of weakness?” He spat the words with venom, his grip tightening as Marcus’s face turned pale, then purple.

The senator’s eyes bulged, and his mouth opened and closed in silent pleas for mercy, but Geta’s rage was far beyond words now. He lifted Marcus off the ground, the senator’s feet dangling as he struggled weakly. The torchlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls as Geta’s expression darkened with each passing second.

“You thought you could replace me? With my own brother?!” Geta whispered, leaning in close to the dying man’s ear. “There will be no one else, dear Marcus.  I am Rome, hm? I. Am. Rome.”

Marcus’s body jerked one last time, and then he went still. Geta held him there for a moment longer, the senator’s lifeless eyes staring into nothingness, before finally letting the body fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Geta’s ragged breathing. He stood over Marcus’s corpse, his chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of his rage. Slowly, he lowered his hand, twisting and turning the jeweled rings around his fingers while wiping the sweat from his brow. His gaze dropped to the dead man at his feet, his heart still pounding in his chest, though calmer now.

A twisted calm, one born of violence.

“Threatening my liege. My Wife,” Geta muttered to himself, stepping over Marcus’s body as he made his way toward the door. “They will all burn before I leave the throne.”

-

The hallways were dimly lit, the flickering flames of the torches casting long, distorted shadows along the stone walls. Geta’s breathing was still ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears as he moved through the empty corridors. His hands, still tingling with the memory of squeezing the life out of Marcus, twitched at his sides. Sweat clung to his brow, slicking his skin and making his tunic stick to his chest.

He could feel the weight of what he had done. The senator’s limp body, the satisfaction that had come when his struggles ceased. It was a different kind of battle—one where no soldier could see him, and no one could speak of it.

Yet, the thrill of victory felt different this time. It wasn’t the fight he was used to. He wasn’t on the battlefield, brandishing his sword, earning the respect of his men. This victory had been personal, quiet... but more satisfying than he could have imagined. Marcus had been wrong—there would be no new ruler. Not while Geta breathed.

He thought of the senators who whispered behind closed doors, plotting to strip him of his power. He thought of the citizens who questioned his rule, who had dared to entertain the idea of another emperor, a more peaceful one. And now he thought of those who might still move against him. They had made one fatal error—they underestimated his resolve, his willingness to do whatever was necessary to protect what was his. He had been lenient for too long.

His footsteps echoed in the silence as he neared the door to his chambers. The weight of his actions, the violence he was still capable of, burned beneath his skin, but as he pushed open the heavy wooden door, the tension seemed to soften.

There, lying in the massive bed, was his wife—your form draped in blankets, the soft rise and fall of your chest showing the example of a  peaceful slumber. You were so..  completely unaware of what he had just done, unaware of the thoughts that now consumed him.

Geta stood in the doorway for a moment, simply watching. His wife had been the one constant in his life, the anchor to his rage. You had calmed him when no one else could. 

His breath still came in short bursts, his chest tight with the remnants of his fury. Slowly, he approached the bed, his legs heavy beneath him as if the weight of the world had finally caught up with him. He collapsed beside you, the bed creaking under his weight. He was slick with sweat, the heat of the earlier confrontation still radiating from his body. He exhaled deeply, his muscles sagging as he sunk into the mattress.

His wife stirred slightly, your hand brushing against his arm as she mumbled something incoherent in sleep. Your touch was soft, gentle—so unlike the violence that had consumed him only moments before. For a moment, Geta considered waking you, telling just what had transpired, but no. You didn’t need to know about the bloodshed, the threat to their life. You didn’t need to carry the burden of his thoughts.

But in the stillness of the night, with his wife sleeping so peacefully beside him, his mind churned with plans. He would not be overthrown. He would not be replaced by anyone who dared to dream of ruling Rome in his stead. Geta would seek out the usurpers, one by one. He would find every senator, every noble, every conspirator who dared question his rule, and he would deal with them the same way he dealt with Marcus. There would be no mercy.

His wife shifted again, pressing closer to him, your hand now resting on his chest, and for a brief moment, the thoughts of violence faded. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her warmth, the way your perfect body curved against his.

But even as his breath steadied and exhaustion began to pull him into sleep, one thought remained clear in his mind: no one would threaten his reign. No one would ever threaten you again.

And when the time came to deal with the rest of them, Geta knew, deep down, he would not hesitate. Rome was his. And he would destroy anyone who thought otherwise.

[pinkisthenewangst]

°`🍨: Kei Tsukishima + First Years x GN! Reader

°`🍨: Being a bet hurt so damn much

You knew boys were dumb with their stupid puberty that makes them go crazy. You knew from the beginning that first year high school will probably feel and also end like middle school all over again but you still felt disappointed. Disappointed to actually believe that it will not happen again and to fell for a tall, handsome and surprisingly intelligent boy until someone tries to attack his ego. You should have known that suddenly getting friends and being confessed to was too perfect for your boring and lonely life.

Realizing that was when you stand beside the clubroom door of the volleyball team. Silently listening to the boys, who talked while changing to their sport outfits. You didn't want to eavesdrop but when you heard your name, you couldn't stop listening. Clutching the straps of your bag in your hand. Biting on your trembling lips while blinking away your tears. Placing the fabric of Tsukishimas Jacket to your mouth so you wouldn't accidentally let out a sob. Doing all of this just to hear that everything was a lie. Being friends with you out of pity. Your relationship only being a bet. It hurt so damn much. "Oi Tsukishima ! How does the lover boy feel to almost reach the third month of your relationship ~?", you heard Tanaka's booming voice through the door. Then it was silent for a short moment until the tall one answered: "Made me realize that relationships robbing me from my precious time and I can't wait to be free, but seeing your faces when you lose is actually worth it". Ouch. Being a bet wasn't something new to you and he knew it. He was the one that told you about it in middle school and now he does the same. You heard more chaotic screaming and laughing, not really able to believe that all the first year knew about it and also the second years you saw as reliable senpais. You then also heard Kageyama talk: "I'm not good with people like her, it feels suffocating to even just stand beside her." Then Hinata continued: "At least she isn't boring!". It hurt so damn much. Not able to listen anymore, you slowly walk down the stairs. Walking past the third years that greeted you happily but you only gave them a nod and a small bow before you started to sprint so they couldn't see the tears in your eyes. You knew boys were stupid but you were also dumb for thinking it would get better. You wished the world would just swallow you whole to stop your suffering.

It felt weird. Eating alone after having finally some people to talk to about hobbies and homework. It also felt rude to just run and ignore them when they tried to talk to you. But you were so hurt and unable to trust them anymore. Not knowing what was a lie, a bet or the truth made your heart crumble in your chest. Seeing them look confused also fed the guilt in your stomach. You should be a better friend. Less boring, less annoying and more how they wanted you to be but this was not possible. Changing took a lot of energy that you didn't have. All the joy you felt until this tragic day, left you completely. Only an empty feeling remained. Looking at Tsukishima from far away didn't make your heart beat faster anymore, it only brought tear to your eyes. Seeing the chaotic duo of Hinata and Kageyama only made it hard to speak without your voice cracking. Feeling the hand of Yamaguchi on your shoulder when he tried to give you something back, made you tense and stiff. Walking through the school made you fear that everyone knew how stupid you were to fall for this bet and how they would start to laugh at your suffering. It took Nishinoya by surprise when you jumped out of your skin when he greeted you at the entrance of the school and how fast you ended your conversation when it sometimes went on until he needed to run to his class. Ah they suddenly started to feel it. The empty place since you weren't there anymore. It even bugged Tsukishima more when he didn't get any answers from you after he messaged you. It also started to hurt. Made his heart sting seeing you not looking at him anymore. His fist shook beside him seeing you smile at Sugawara but something like sadness took over his feelings when your face dropped to a neutral expression when the third year disappeared. Something wasn't right but he didn't know how to fix it. In the first time of his life, he felt heartbroken and unable to decide what to do. How unfortunate that everyone around you and him were just so stupid and dumb.

°`🍨: Tadaaaa ~ Another one but it's not really Tsukishima focused but it also is 🤔

°`🍨: REQUESTS ARE OPEN until 25th of Aug.

[ohbabydollie]

Imagine Schlatt being super horny for his heavily pregnant wife after they’d haven’t had sex for awhile…

😮‍💨😮‍💨 this ask made me feel things

You always feared pregnancy.

You didn’t mean to it’s just that the idea of being pregnant, all the things that could go wrong, etc. Not to mention the fear of your husband losing attraction for you, but it seemed the opposite for Schlatt.

Instead of feeling no attraction after you got pregnant, during the first few months he went feral. He was all over you 24/7, using it as an excuse to not use condoms at all, whenever you seemed emotional he would give you head and say something about you “needing to relief stress” and more.

Schlatt used any excuse he could come up with so he could to be on and inside you.

It eventually calmed down when you had been around 26 weeks pregnant. Sex that would happen daily had become 3-4 times a week, most of the time schlatt just eating you out or fingering you before leaving to jerk off.

You assumed that his attraction for you was fading, when in reality that was far from the truth.

Schlatt’s attraction to you has only grown since you’ve gotten more pregnant. From seeing you smile and hold his hand at an ultrasound to seeing your tits grow heavier over time.

It honestly scares Schlatt how much he wants you. He doesn’t want to exert you, especially with how tired you’ve been these days, so he’s stuck to cold showers and on really difficult days, jerking off. It’s hard to resist you, especially when he’s eating you out or fingering you and feeling your warmth wrapped around his fingers, tightening up around them as you finish.

He finds you borderline impossible to resist. Especially now, when you’re in a cute sundress you bought a few weeks ago.

It shows your tits and belly off just right, but Schlatt can resist.

When you put down a bowl of fruit and jambo goes running to steal a blueberry, he knocks over your bowl.

“Jambo!” you scold picking up the cat before handing him to Schlatt.

He watches, grabbing the cat as you accidentally push your boobs up against each other causing the neckline to deepen and show more than you intended before returning to normal once you handed jambo over to Schlatt.

Schlatt can resist.

“i gotta go clean up the fruit he dropped” you complain walking over to the kitchen, bending over and picking up the few pieces that fell out.

fuck, your ass looks great

fuck, the soft pout you have on your face

jambo soon jumps off the couch and goes meowing at you, almost apologetically. You coo at him lovingly, picking him up like a baby once the fruit is cleaned up.

fuck

Schlatt’s imagination is going wild, already imagining you with a second and third child. He can’t fucking hold back.

he can’t resist

It’s mere seconds before he’s taking you to the bedroom. Schlatt is placing you down on the bed and hiking your dress up.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been wantin’ to fuck ya” he says taking off your underwear and quickly taking out his cock.

He wastes no time slipping into you, letting out a groan, “fuckkk, doll, you don’t know how much i missed your sweet little pussy”

Those words along the familiar feeling of him inside you, in what feels like forever, has you throwing you head back in pleasure. Your lips parting to let out moans as he thrusts in and out of you harshly, not bothering to hold back.

“fuck. never. gonna. stay. away. from. this. pretty. pussy. again!” Schlatt growled between thrusts

“fuck! c-calm down!” you moan out, holding onto his broad shoulders “i‘m sensitive!” you whine as Schlatt pays no mind to your words, instead rubbing your clit.

“great, then i can feel ya cummin’ ‘round my cock faster”

[impish-baby]

A few glimpses into 'both arms cradle you now' reader's childhood in no particular order

"Why do birds suddenly appear evertime you are near.." The wet tears running down your cheeks are gently brushed away, whatever nightmare plaguing your sleep seems so far away now that your dad is here. "Just like me, they long to be close to you.." Damien hoists you into his arms, still humming that familiar lullaby as he carries you to the kitchen.

"Why do stars fall from the sky every time you walk by.." You're set on top of the counter, Damien ruffling your hair softly before walking over to the fridge to fetch a carton of milk. "Just like me.. they long to be.. close to you.." The warm glow of the stove makes the quiet night more cozy, the shadows along the walls retreating as well as any lingering fear.

You can feel you eyes start to droop, a small yawn leaving your lips making the man chuckle fondly. "One sec, ok? Daddy has some angel milk for you so you don't have anymore bad dreams, then we'll get you tucked back into bed."

-

"Do you want to hold him, sweetie?" Not really, but a nudge to your shoulder has you taking a reluctant step forward anyway. You're not sure how to feel about him, he's your dad's but not your mom's.

Mary scoots over a little so you can climb up on the hospital bed next to her, a tired but kind smile on her face. "Here, it's ok, you just need to make sure you're supporting his head.." She helps guide your arms into the right position, placing the tiny buddle into them, a pair of equally tiny disgruntled blue eyes soon staring up at you.

When you were first told that your stepmom was pregnant, you tried really really hard to just be happy for them. You promise. The sinking dread never went away though, no matter how much you berated yourself for feeling that way.

Babies are a blessing, but the announcement only cemented the fact that the world as you knew it was ending. Your dad isn't just your dad anymore. Even then, he hasn't acted like one to you in a while. Maybe you were just denying the inevitable.

"Ohh, I think he likes you.." Mary's head rests on your shoulder suddenly, distracting you from your sullen thoughts. "See? You're a natural with little ones!"

"He's glaring at me.."

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as she sits up. "No, he's just getting used to the world, darling. He loves you, he knows he has the best older sibling he could ask for."

-

"What's even the point?" You're both supposed to be sleeping even though it isn't a school night, Aunt Lisa is strict when it comes to things like that. What she doesn't know won't hurt her though.

"Because they look cool," Avery shrugs, carful of the fact you're currently snuggled under one of his arms. "And you get bragging points for catching them." You still don't get it, they're the same thing just a different color. "You've watched me play for like an hour, and now you're bored?"

"You were actually doing stuff before.." You huff, "You've been going around in a circle for fifteen minutes."

You scoff at his comment, now filled with spite to actually beat the game. You've barely moved an inch before the battle music plays, a black and purple pumpkaboo greeting you. "Oh, um..

"I

Well, excuse me," Avery sniffs playfully, "You play since I'm not entertaining enough." The console is handed over to you, the older boy simply holding you closer. "I bet you lose the first match you try."

"Huh?" Avery sighs, quickly pouting when he looks back at the screen. "Seriously? Damm, you're lucky." He pokes your cheek, "You catch it for me and I'll buy you some fries tomorrow."

-

"You're so annoying!"

With how hard you hit the ground, you know you're going to bruise. You weren't even talking, you just wanted to hang out with them.

"Seriously, who even wanted you to come over? I sure didn't!" No matter what you do, Lizzie doesn't like you. Doesn't matter if you're as friendly as can be or give her some space, you're always doing something wrong. "You're wasting good air, you know?"

"M' sorry, didn't mean to bother you." You won't cry, you're too old for that. "Liz-"

"You didn't mean to? Yeah, right!" Lizzie scoffs, kicking dirt into your face. Dust immediately stings your eyes. "You're a pest! No wonder everyone calls you bug, you're clingy like a tick, a parasite."

Your feeble attempt to rub the dirt away isn't really helping, you can barely hold your eyes open enough to look up at her. Miles isn't going to do anything to help either, silently supporting his sister.

"No wonder your dad left you! And your mom, she must be insufferable if you're her kid-"

You don't know when you managed to get up on your feet or when you grabbed a handful of Lizzie's hair. On the bright side, it makes her shut up.

"Hey!"

Your dad emerges from the house, miles trailing behind him. Of course.

"What has gotten into you?" You've let the older girl go at this point, she wasn't even crying until he came outside.

"Ow, dad.." Lizzie hides behind Damien, flashing you a smirk. "I wasn't even doing anything and they decided to be mean.."

Any inking of doubt you had evaporates in an instant. You don't have a dad anymore, you haven't in years.

"God.." He crosses his arms, the stern look would have made you wince if you weren't already shaking. "Don't even try to give me any excuses, Miles told me what happened. You can wait out here for your mom to pick you up since you can't behave yourself. I thought you knew better."

-

"Can you at least try to eat half, please?"

Your plate sits almost entirely untouched, having just been picked at over the course of dinner. Your mom's worried frown won't leave her face. "You're still a growing kid, I don't like how many meals you've tried to skip."

"I'm not hungry." You really aren't, there's always a nauseous feeling in your gut these days. "I'll eat a snack later, don't worry, mom."

"Baby.." She pinches the bridge of her nose and you feel a pang of guilt for how stressed she must be. "Please? For mommy? Or at least talk to me about what's going on.. i- it hurts seeing you so sad all the time."

What are you supposed to say to that?

Against your will, there's tears starting to drip down your cheeks. You don't think you've ever seen the women move so fast, her chair clattering to the floor in her rush to go to your side. "Oh, my baby.."

"I- I'm sorry.." For what you don't know, maybe the fact that she's stuck with you. "I- I'm so sorry, mom-"

"Oh, hush.." You're too big for her to carry, you both know, but she still scoops you into her arms. "There's nothing in the world you need to apologize to me for."

You sniffle, tucking your head under her chin. "I- I don't want to see dad anymore.. or.. or hear about him or-"

"Shhh.." She runs a hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you, "you don't have to, alright? We'll figure it out. If that's what you want, you won't ever have to see him again."

(a/n: some ramblings while I start writing the second part to the series..reader will continue to go through it)

[kiwriteswords]

hotchhotchhotch! it's like you write him extra hot - like sriracha hot - bc he's sososo perfect in your writing! can i request the "saying "i love you" for the first time" with shy!reader?

Hi!! Thank you so much!!! This one turned out to be a little longer than a drabble! Hope you like it!!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Summary: In the high-stakes world of the BAU, you and Aaron Hotchner have shared a quiet, unspoken connection that began as something casual, a way to find comfort amid the chaos. But when a routine case leaves you critically injured, Hotch is forced to confront the depth of his feelings. As he anxiously waits by your side, fearing the worst, Hotch realizes that losing you would break him in ways he never expected.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Technically safe for work, but hints at an intimate relationship.

TW: Canon typical violence, hints at intimacy, angst

The Fear of Falling

You didn’t expect to get shot.

You were trained for it, prepared to face the worst every day, but no one really expects it. You were in the thick of it, chasing down a suspect with Hotch, when it all went wrong. One minute, you had your eyes on him, and the next, pain exploded through your side.

The world blurred around you as you hit the ground, blood seeping into your clothes, your hands, the dirt beneath you. Voices came through muffled, far-off. It wasn’t until Hotch’s voice cut through the haze that reality started to set back in.

The bullet tore through your side, the pain immediate and searing, but in the chaos of the moment, you didn’t have time to process it. Everything around you was a blur—Hotch’s voice barking orders into his radio, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the sound of footsteps pounding the ground around you.

But one thing was clear: Hotch never left your side.

That had always been his way—quiet, steady, dependable. From the beginning, when whatever this was between you had started, Hotch had been there. It hadn’t been some whirlwind romance, no grand gestures or confessions of love. Instead, it was late nights spent together after a long day in the field, where the lines between work and something more blurred. You’d sit close on the jet, your knees brushing under the table as you discussed case files, or spend hours in quiet conversation that had nothing to do with the cases you worked on but everything to do with understanding each other.

The "fling"—as you had quietly labeled it in your head—started as something small, something easy to dismiss. It had begun in the most unexpected way, during a night at a bar after a tough case. The team had gone home, but you and Hotch had stayed, finding some kind of strange comfort in the shared silence over a couple of drinks. It had been weeks of tension, the unspoken attraction between you simmering beneath the surface, and that night, it finally broke. A lingering glance. A brush of fingers. Then, without thinking, you had leaned in, and so had he.

It was never meant to be serious. Neither of you had said as much, but the understanding was there. Hotch had his demons, and you had yours. He was your superior. The weight of those unspoken boundaries hung between you, even as you’d find yourself alone together, the rest of the world falling away for brief moments. Kisses stolen in the shadows of hotel rooms when the team wasn’t looking. Conversations that lasted too long, with gazes that lingered just a bit more than they should have.

You had agreed to keep things casual. Nothing more than companionship in the midst of the chaos of your lives. Neither of you had the space for something deeper, something permanent. Or at least, that’s what you told yourselves. But as the months went on, the way Hotch looked at you began to shift. You noticed the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way he checked on you after a particularly rough case, or how he lingered at your side just a little longer than necessary.

And somewhere along the way, you had begun to care about him more than you should have. You tried to push it down, to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. But the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to pretend--the more painful it became to pretend. The quiet moments, the subtle touches, the way he said your name—it all added up to something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

“Stay with me.” He was beside you, his hands pressing against your wound, voice stern but shaking. His brows furrowed, eyes fixed on your injury, but his jaw clenched with something much deeper than concern. You could see it, even in your pain-addled state.

“I’m—” You tried to speak, but it was hard to get the words out. You were used to being quiet, used to keeping your thoughts to yourself. That never seemed to be a problem when you were with Hotch. Silence had become a part of the strange rhythm you had with him, this unspoken understanding between two people who couldn’t find the right words but always seemed to know.

Now, though, you felt the need to fill that silence, to say something, anything.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “you’re going to be okay.”

The grip of his hands tightened, and in a rare moment, his walls seemed to crack. He wasn’t just your boss here. He wasn’t the stern, unflinching leader of the BAU. He was Aaron—someone who had been carrying something for a while, someone who hadn’t yet spoken all the things he needed to say. Someone you cared about more than you ever let on.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wincing as a fresh wave of pain surged through you. You weren’t sure why you apologized—maybe for being hurt, maybe for all the times you’d kept quiet when you wanted to say more, or maybe for all the times you felt like you were asking too much of him, even when you hadn’t asked for anything at all.

“Why would you apologize?” His voice was tight, but there was a gentleness in it that you’d rarely heard. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do.”

Hotch rode with you in the ambulance, his hand gripping yours, his jaw clenched tight as he stared down at you, concern and fear etched into every hard line of his face. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the way he was barely keeping it together for your sake. Aaron Hotchner was always the one in control, always the one to keep a level head when everything else was falling apart. But right now, it felt like that control was slipping.

As the paramedics worked on you, you could hear the urgency in their voices. The blood loss, the need to stabilize you—it was all happening too fast for you to grasp. The only constant was Hotch’s presence, his voice grounding you, telling you to hold on.

By the time you reached the hospital, the world was fading in and out. The last thing you saw before you were wheeled into surgery was Hotch standing there, his eyes locked on yours, as if he was afraid to let you go.

Hours passed. Hotch didn’t move from the waiting room.

The sterile hospital air seemed suffocating, the hum of fluorescent lights above adding to the unbearable stillness. Time felt warped—minutes dragged into hours, each second stretching endlessly as he waited. His mind was stuck on one thing: you.

Reid was the first to arrive, his face pale as he walked into the waiting room. He wasn’t good with hospitals, and Hotch knew it. His hands fidgeted with the strap of his bag as he approached. “Hotch,” he said softly, “how is she?”

Hotch didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes fixed on the swinging doors down the hall, the ones that led to the surgical ward. “She’s still in there.”

Reid sat down beside him, the silence between them heavy. Hotch could feel the younger man glancing at him occasionally, probably wanting to say more, but holding back. Reid wasn’t someone who pushed when others needed space. But even his quiet presence wasn’t enough to pierce the fog of worry clouding Hotch’s mind. After a few minutes, Reid left, muttering something about needing to call Garcia for an update.

Hotch barely registered it.

Morgan came next, his energy a stark contrast to the stillness that had settled over the room. He strode in, his expression serious but determined. “How’s she doing, man?”

Hotch shook his head, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “They haven’t told me anything yet.”

Morgan sat across from him, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “She’s tough. She’s gonna pull through.”

Hotch nodded, but the movement felt mechanical. Empty. His mind was spinning with worst-case scenarios, a constant replay of the moment you went down. The blood. The way your body crumpled. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the memory. He could still feel the warmth of your blood on his hands as he tried to stop the bleeding.

“She’ll make it,” Morgan added quietly, his voice softer now. He was trying to comfort Hotch, trying to be there in the way he always was for the team. But Hotch didn’t have it in him to respond. He barely acknowledged the weight of Morgan’s words before he stood abruptly, pacing to the window.

He stared outside, seeing nothing but the reflection of the waiting room. His reflection. And behind it, Morgan, looking at him with quiet concern. But Morgan didn’t say anything else. After a few minutes, he got up, clapped Hotch on the shoulder, and left, probably to update the rest of the team.

Rossi arrived last. The older man walked in with the calm, steady air that he always carried, but even he couldn’t mask the worry etched into his features. He had been doing this job longer than any of them, and Hotch knew he had seen more than his share of teammates in the hospital. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“How’re you holding up?” Rossi asked, standing beside Hotch by the window.

Hotch didn’t answer right away. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers clenched into tight fists. He stared out at the city below, his jaw working as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I’m fine,” he finally muttered, his voice tight.

Rossi didn’t buy it, of course. “You’re not fine, Aaron. None of us are when someone we care about is lying on an operating table.”

Hotch flinched at that. Care. The word hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. He knew what Rossi was implying—what everyone had probably suspected for a while now. But this wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now.

“I should’ve been faster,” Hotch muttered, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

Rossi shook his head. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. So does she.”

Hotch clenched his fists tighter, the anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “She’s in there because of me. If I’d been quicker, more careful...”

“She’s in there because it’s the job. You did everything you could.” Rossi’s voice was firm, but it didn’t soothe the guilt gnawing at Hotch’s insides.

The silence stretched between them, and Rossi eventually gave him a small nod before heading out. He knew better than to push Hotch when he was like this. And Hotch knew that, deep down, Rossi was right. But that didn’t change the fact that you were in surgery, and he was standing here, helpless.

The minutes dragged on. He glanced at the clock. Then at the doors. His mind was racing—picturing every possible outcome, every scenario, from best to worst. He had never felt more useless in his life. Out in the field, he knew what to do. There was always a plan, always a course of action. But here? Here, he was just waiting.

And Hotch wasn’t someone who did well with waiting.

He leaned against the window, his hand rubbing his face as exhaustion tugged at him. The pressure in his chest was unbearable. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not after everything you’d been through together—every quiet moment, every glance that spoke louder than words. He had never said it, never admitted how deeply he cared for you. Not to you, not to himself. But now... now he didn’t have a choice.

He loved you.

And if he lost you, he wasn’t sure how he would put himself back together again.

He paced the waiting room some more, his hands running through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to lose it. But the image of you lying there, bleeding, the sound of your voice barely above a whisper, haunted him. He could still feel your hand slipping from his grasp as they took you into the operating room.

“Hotch,” Emily said softly, placing a hand on his arm to stop him mid-pace. “She’s strong. She’s going to make it.”

He nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak. What could he say? That he wasn’t strong enough for this? That, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was falling apart?

When he finally sat down, it was with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this unhinged, this terrified of losing someone.--Not since Haley.

But you weren’t Haley. You were different.

Haley had been the love of his life—the mother of his child, the person who had seen him through some of his darkest moments. But his love for her had been rooted in something that had bloomed long before the BAU took over his life, before the job hardened him, before the tragedies that followed had changed him. Haley had seen him as a younger man, unburdened by the weight of the world. And even after everything, she had always held a place in his heart.

But you... you were different.

You had become a part of his life without him even realizing it, quietly slipping into the spaces Haley had left behind. At first, he had resisted it. After Haley, he had sworn that he wouldn’t let himself feel that deeply for someone again. The loss had been too great, too painful. He had told himself that he didn’t have time for it, that he didn’t deserve it. His job demanded too much, and he had already paid the price once.

But then there had been you.

Your presence had been subtle, almost imperceptible at first. There were the late-night debriefs after a long case, the quiet conversations in the jet, the moments of silence that somehow felt more comfortable than words. You never pushed, never demanded more than he was willing to give. You didn’t need to. You just were—steady, present, a constant in his life that had become more and more important without him even realizing it.

And now, sitting here, waiting for news on whether you’d pull through, he knew there was no going back. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t push away what had been building between you.

Because somewhere along the way, you had become more than just another colleague, more than just another person he cared about. He wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe it was during a quiet evening when you had shared a rare laugh, or maybe it was when you had listened to him without judgment after a particularly brutal case. Or maybe it had been a thousand little moments that had piled up until he couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny it now.

He was in love with you.

It wasn’t something he had planned, or something he had even wanted at first. But it had crept up on him, slowly and surely, until the thought of losing you terrified him more than he had ever been willing to admit.

He had tried to keep his distance, to keep things professional. After all, what business did a man like him have getting involved with someone like you? He was too old, too broken. You deserved someone who wasn’t carrying the kind of baggage he did. But every time he was near you, every time you smiled or laughed, or even just sat quietly with him in comfortable silence, it chipped away at the walls he had so carefully built.

And if something happened to you—if he lost you now—he wasn’t sure he could survive it.

It had been so easy to fall for you. Too easy.

Now, he was terrified that he’d never get the chance to tell you.

When you finally woke up, groggy from the anesthesia, the first thing you noticed was the stiffness in your side. The second was the sound of steady breathing beside you.

Turning your head slowly, you saw him. Hotch was sitting in the chair next to your bed, looking far more disheveled than you’d ever seen him. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable. He hadn’t left.

“Hotch?” you murmured, your voice weak, but the relief of seeing him made your heart ache.

His head snapped up, and the relief that washed over his face was palpable. He stood immediately, leaning over you, his hand resting gently on your arm. “You’re awake,” he said softly, and you could hear the unspoken worry in his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admitted, trying to give him a small smile, though the heaviness in your chest made it hard. You had been lucky, but the fact that it had come to this—lying in a hospital bed after being shot—felt like a wake-up call.

The bubbling of feelings in your chest out-ached the pain from the bullet. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t pretend that your feelings for him didn’t run deeper than you ever intended. And you couldn’t ask him to risk his heart again, not after everything he had been through.

“I think...” you started, your throat dry, “I think we should stop whatever this is.”

Hotch blinked, the words seeming to hit him like a physical blow. “What?” he asked, his voice low, like he hadn’t quite heard you correctly.

“I just—” You paused, unsure of how to explain the storm of emotions inside you. “I’ve caught feelings, Hotch. And I don’t think that’s fair. Not to you, not to me. It’s... too much.”

His face hardened, but not in anger. It was the mask he wore when he was trying to keep himself in check, to not let his emotions spill out.

“I don’t want to make things harder for you,” you continued, your heart aching with each word. “I don’t want to ask for more than you can give. I know you’ve already been through enough.”

“You think you’re asking too much of me?” His voice was quiet but firm, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “You’re the one who just got shot, and you think you’re the problem here?”

You tried to sit up, but the pain made you wince, and he was immediately by your side, his hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, the tears threatening to spill over now. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did, and now I don’t know what to do because I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, suffocating. You expected him to walk away, to tell you that this was why he had always kept his distance, why he hadn’t let things get too deep. But instead, he surprised you.

“I love you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, his words hanging in the air between you. You weren’t sure you had heard him right.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while,” he continued, his voice rough, as if it hurt him to admit it. “I just... I didn’t think I could ask that of you. I’m not... I’m not the man I used to be, and I thought you deserved more than someone like me. Someone who’s been through what I have.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re everything to me, Hotch. I don’t care about the rest.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand reached for yours, his grip firm but gentle, and the weight of everything unsaid between you seemed to settle. 

“You scared the hell out of me today,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And I realized I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.”

The tears came then, and you didn’t try to stop them. You had been holding back for so long, afraid of what it would mean to let yourself feel this way, to let yourself fall for him. But now, it didn’t matter. He was here. You were both here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “And neither are you.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[fluffylord]

Look how far I went, for fear of losing you.

[wwooyology]

Just Friends | L.HS

「prompt」 : unrequited love 「pairing」 : heeseung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 0.8k

「synopsis」 : you have had a crush on heeseung for as long as you could remember, but you never told him for the fear of rejection. however, when a rumor goes around that you like him, you have no choice but to lie to keep the peace of your friendship.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : none that I can think of besides that heeseung doesn't like the reader any more than friends

「notes」 : here's another short one, though I'm not entirely happy with it I think I got the emotions and feelings across. I hope you all enjoy nonetheless!!

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

As soon as Heeseung caught wind that you may or may not have a crush on him, he started to avoid you like the plague. You’d ask if he could hang out after class, and he’d tell you he was busy. You’d try to sit with him at lunch only to have him tell you he was done, and he’d walk away. You tried to partner with him during a class project like you usually do, but he was quick to tell you that he already had a partner, not giving you another second.

At first, you just brushed it off, but as time went on, you started to worry that something was wrong. Worried, the next day, you went searching for Heeseung’s friend, Jeongin, to try and figure out what was going on.

“Hey Jeongin, do you have a minute?” You asked the blonde as he shut his locker, looking over at you.

“What’s up, y/n?” 

Looking around, you let out a short breath of air. "Is something wrong with Heeseung?” you asked, almost scared to find out the answer. "Like, is he upset with me?”

“Oh.” Jeongin let out a short, nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. However, the action only made you more uneasy.

“What do you mean oh?” You shifted on your feet as you looked up at him, “did something happen?”

“You could say that…” He trailed on before letting out a sigh, “Word around is that you have a crush on him, and I guess he just doesn’t know how to take it.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. How did he figure out that you had a crush on him? You never told anyone but your best friend and no one else because you knew he didn’t feel the same. So you kept it to yourself so as not to ruin the friendship that you shared.

But it seems like that was all out the window now.

You quietly nodded before bidding Jeongin a goodbye when he left for class. It felt like all of the eyes in the world were on you right now as you tried to think of a way to get out of this situation without losing one of your closest friends.

The only thing that came to mind was to talk to Heeseung about it and lie your ass off. Fake it till you make it, as they always say.

–

Later that day, you managed to grab Heeseung away before he could run from you, pulling him into an empty classroom and turning to look at him.

“What is this y/n? I have to get to practice.” He groaned, reaching for the door, but you were quick to block his path.

“No. Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” You pouted slightly, hiding the hurt in your eyes.

Heeseung looked at you for a moment before letting out a sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose. Turning away from you, he looked out the windows, and you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy by his actions.

The room was silent for a few moments before he turned back around to face you. "You know that I love you just as a friend, right?” 

A pain shot through your heart at his words, as if a knife had just shoved through your chest. Even though you thought that you were prepared for the pain, you weren’t, very far from ready. You had to fight back the tears that were threatening to brim on your waterline. Inhaling deeply, you nodded your head with a small smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that. I love you just the same and wouldn’t want anything more.” You smiled through the pain as he let out a relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank god, because some of the guys were telling me that you had a crush on me.” He chuckled as he made his way towards you, “would have made things so awkward if that were the case; so glad it’s not, though.”

“Oh yeah. Totally awkward.” You faked a laugh as he swung his arm around your shoulder as you faced the classroom door.

“C’mon, I gotta get to practice, and I need my favorite water girl there.” He chuckled, opening the door and pulling you out with him.

All you could do was laugh and follow along with him despite the crushing pain that you felt in your chest. You wanted to just go home and sob into your pillows for hours on end and devour an unhealthy amount of ice cream. But you couldn’t do that without raising some suspicion, so you just did as you normally would.

Even if it would continue to hurt you, you would never tell him your true feelings just so you could keep him close to you.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[princesseilish]

BLOOD MOON .3

Vampire!Paige x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, stalking, obsession

Synopsis: paige's obsession with you is starting to crack, will you let her bite you?

chapter three, the end of the blade

Paige had been alone for a long time.

She had learned how to keep people at arm’s length, how to blend in, how to disappear before anyone got too close.

She had spent years perfecting the act of control, of restraint, of inhuman patience.

And now, standing here, with Y/N’s eyes locked onto hers—expectant, searching—

She felt all of it slipping through her fingers.

Y/N wasn’t just curious anymore.

She was determined.

Paige could see it in the sharpness of her gaze, in the way she didn’t move, in the way her pulse—steady and strong—didn’t spike in fear.

Y/N wasn’t afraid of her.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

Paige took a slow breath, feeling the air shift, feeling the night press in around them. “You should stop asking questions.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Because I don’t have the strength to lie to you anymore.

Because if you look any closer, you’ll see everything.

Because once you know the truth, I won’t be able to let you go.

Paige clenched her jaw, forcing a smirk. “Because I’m a very boring person.”

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You stalked me two nights ago, vanished into thin air, and now you’re standing outside my building like it’s just another Tuesday. You don’t get to call yourself boring.”

Paige’s stomach twisted.

She should leave.

She needed to leave.

But then Y/N tilted her head again—her signature move, the one that meant she was figuring something out—and before Paige could even prepare for it, she said,

“You don’t blink a lot.”

Paige stilled.

Her blood ran cold.

Y/N’s lips pressed together, her gaze flickering over Paige’s face, like she was putting the pieces together. “And you never check your phone. You don’t fidget, and you always disappear right before sunrise.”

Paige forced a laugh, but it was thin, fraying at the edges. “You think I’m a vampire or something?”

It was meant to be a joke. A way to turn the conversation, to make Y/N roll her eyes and drop it entirely.

But Y/N didn’t laugh.

She just stared.

And then, so quietly that it nearly knocked the breath from Paige’s lungs—

“I don’t know what I think yet.”

Yet.

Paige’s pulse—fake as it was—pounded against her ribs.

She needed to stop this before it went too far. Before Y/N saw past the cracks in her carefully built mask.

But then—

A flicker of movement.

Something fast.

Something deadly.

Paige barely had time to react before a presence appeared behind Y/N, smooth and silent as a shadow.

Azzi.

Y/N hadn’t noticed yet, hadn’t even sensed the shift in the air, but Paige had.

And her stomach dropped.

Azzi wasn’t supposed to be here.

She wasn’t supposed to know.

But she was standing there now, just a few feet behind Y/N, expression unreadable, her eyes locked onto Paige’s with something that made Paige’s breath catch.

Warning.

Paige’s hands curled into fists.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “Paige?”

Paige’s jaw tightened.

Azzi hadn’t made a sound. Hadn’t even breathed.

And yet—

Y/N had felt something.

Paige had never been more certain that she was going to lose her in the worst possible way.

Because Y/N wasn’t just close to the truth anymore.

She was standing on the edge of it.

And Azzi?

Azzi was here to make sure she never stepped over that line.

Paige had been in fights before.

She had faced creatures far older, far stronger than herself. She had battled in wars humans never knew existed, had seen blood paint the streets long before civilization built itself around the graves of those who had fallen.

She had survived.

But standing here, caught between the weight of Y/N’s gaze and the silent warning in Azzi’s, she felt something she rarely ever did.

Powerless.

Azzi hadn’t spoken a word, but Paige could hear what she was saying.

What the fuck are you doing?

She knows too much.

Fix it.

Y/N, oblivious to the silent tension crackling between them, shifted slightly. Paige could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off of her, could smell her—

And she realized, too late, that she had taken a step closer.

That was all it took.

Azzi moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Not towards Y/N, but in front of her, placing herself between them like a shield, like a silent threat.

Y/N frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift, and took a step back, her gaze flickering between them. “…What’s going on?”

Paige’s stomach dropped.

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “You should go home, Y/N.”

It was the first thing she had said, her voice smooth but sharp, carrying the weight of something unspoken.

Something dangerous.

Y/N hesitated.

And Paige saw it—the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her jacket, the way her breathing changed.

She wasn’t just curious anymore.

She was uneasy.

Not quite afraid, but closer than ever.

And it killed Paige.

Because Y/N had never looked at her like that before.

She had never been nervous in Paige’s presence.

But now?

Now, with Azzi standing between them, with tension thick enough to suffocate, she was finally seeing it.

Finally realizing that something wasn’t right.

Paige swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay even. “Azzi’s right. Go home.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed deeper. “No.”

Paige winced.

Of course she wouldn’t.

Of course she would stand her ground, because Y/N wasn’t the type to back away from something that didn’t make sense. She was too smart, too stubborn, and Paige had spent too much time watching her, knowing how her mind worked, knowing that pushing her away like this was only going to make her fight harder to understand.

“Y/N.” Paige took a slow breath, voice softer, more desperate. “Please.”

Y/N froze.

Because Paige never begged.

Never sounded like that.

Like she was breaking.

Like she was standing at the edge of something irreversible.

Paige watched as something flickered in Y/N’s eyes—uncertainty, hesitation, maybe even fear—but before she could say anything else—

Azzi moved again.

This time, it was too close.

Just enough to tip the balance.

And Y/N—who had spent her life studying human behavior, studying every micro-expression, every unconscious shift in movement—noticed.

Paige felt the moment it happened.

The moment Y/N’s entire perception of them cracked.

Because Y/N took half a step back, eyes flickering between them, realizing something wasn’t right, sensing that Azzi had moved in a way no human should.

Then—slowly, carefully—

“What are you?”

Paige’s heart stopped.

Azzi went completely still.

And in that moment—under the flickering streetlight, with the cold pressing in, with Y/N looking at them like she was finally seeing the truth—

Paige knew.

She had lost.

Because there was no taking this back.

No pretending Y/N hadn’t noticed.

No undoing the way she had just looked at them, like she was seeing monsters where people had once stood.

For the first time in her existence, Paige felt something worse than hunger.

She felt true, absolute fear.

Not for herself.

For Y/N.

Because now that she knew—

She wasn’t safe anymore.

Paige had imagined this moment before.

Not like this, not with Y/N standing in front of her, wide-eyed and frozen in the dim glow of the streetlight. But she had thought about it—what it would mean for Y/N to know, for her to look at Paige and see her for what she really was.

She had imagined it in nightmares where Y/N screamed and ran.

She had imagined it in daydreams where Y/N whispered, I don’t care.

But she hadn’t imagined this.

The silence.

The way Y/N’s fingers twitched at her sides, gripping the edges of her jacket, grounding herself in the weight of what she had just said.

The way Azzi didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, waiting for Paige to handle it—waiting to see if she would.

And Paige—Paige wasn’t sure she could.

Y/N had asked the question, had taken the first step past the point of no return, and now Paige was standing at the edge of the cliff with her, staring down at the inevitable fall.

Lie.

Deny it.

Turn away before it’s too late.

But then Y/N shivered, just slightly, her breath coming out in a slow, visible exhale in the cold night air—

And Paige was so aware of the fact that her own didn’t.

Her hands clenched at her sides.

Azzi still hadn’t spoken.

That was a warning in itself.

Paige needed to be careful.

She needed to choose her words precisely.

She swallowed, voice quiet. “What do you think we are?”

Y/N’s gaze flickered over her face, analyzing, dissecting, reading her the way she always did.

Paige wished, for once, that she was harder to understand.

Y/N tilted her head slightly—Paige’s fatal tell.

Then, slowly, carefully—

“Not human.”

Paige flinched.

She hadn’t expected it to hurt, but it did.

Y/N had never looked at her like this before.

Like she was trying to make sense of her.

Like she was looking at something she shouldn’t be able to comprehend.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Azzi shifted slightly, her body still angled between them, ready to step in if Paige did something stupid.

But Paige wasn’t sure what the right move was anymore.

Her mind was scrambling, running through the possibilities.

If she denied it, Y/N wouldn’t let it go.

If she confirmed it—

That was dangerous.

That was the kind of mistake people died for.

Y/N exhaled slowly. “Paige.”

Her name sounded different now.

Like it was balancing on the edge of something fragile.

And Paige—against her better judgment, against every instinct screaming at her to stop this before it went too far—

Took a step forward.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Not in fear.

In realization.

Because Paige had moved too smoothly, too fast, too unnatural.

And she knew.

Paige could see it in her eyes, in the way her fingers curled slightly, like she had just confirmed something in her own head.

Paige should have stopped.

But she couldn’t.

Because there was something in Y/N’s expression, something Paige wasn’t expecting—

Curiosity.

Not fear.

Not disgust.

Just—understanding.

Like she had already figured it out before she even asked.

And that was worse.

Because now Paige couldn’t take it back.

Couldn’t erase the way Y/N was seeing her now.

Paige swallowed hard. “You should be scared of me.”

Y/N didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Then—softly, honestly—

“I don’t think I am.”

Paige felt that.

Deep in her chest, deep in the space where her heart should have been beating.

And just as she was about to say something—anything—

Azzi moved.

Quick. Sharp. Dangerous.

“Go home, Y/N.”

Not a suggestion.

A command.

Paige winced.

Y/N’s expression flickered—something dark, something uncertain—before her lips pressed together.

And then—without another word—she turned and walked away.

Paige didn’t breathe until she disappeared into her building.

Then—

Azzi turned on her.

The silence between them was heavy, suffocating, pressing down like a weight Paige could barely hold up.

Azzi’s voice was calm, steady, but deadly.

“She knows, Paige.”

Paige knew.

And worse—

So did Y/N.

Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

She could still hear Y/N’s footsteps fading, the soft rustle of fabric, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat as she disappeared behind her apartment door.

She was gone.

But the damage was already done.

Azzi turned to her, slow and deliberate, the way only someone with time could move.

Paige wasn’t sure if she had ever seen her this angry before.

“She knows,” Azzi said again, like she was testing the weight of the words, seeing how they felt rolling off her tongue. “Do you get that, Paige? It’s over.”

Paige exhaled sharply, trying to shove down the panic rising in her throat. “She doesn’t know—”

“Don’t,” Azzi snapped.

Paige flinched.

Azzi’s voice had never had that edge with her before.

Not like this.

Not like she was barely holding back something dangerous.

“You think she’s just going to drop it?” Azzi continued, stepping forward, forcing Paige back against the streetlight’s cold glow. “She’s smart, Paige. Too smart. She’s already put it together, and you just stood there and let her.”

Paige clenched her jaw, trying to keep her breathing steady, even though she didn’t need to breathe. “She didn’t run.”

Azzi froze.

And for a moment, something flashed in her expression—something almost like…

Fear.

“That’s the problem,” Azzi muttered, running a hand over her face.

Paige didn’t respond.

Because she already knew.

Y/N should have run.

She should have turned away and never looked back.

But she hadn’t.

And now, that meant something dangerous.

Azzi shook her head. “You have to end this.”

Paige stiffened. “What?”

“You have to,” Azzi repeated, voice quieter now, but heavier. “Before someone else finds out.”

Paige’s stomach dropped.

Because she knew exactly what Azzi meant.

This wasn’t just about them anymore.

This was about the others.

The ones who wouldn’t hesitate.

The ones who would see Y/N as a loose end, as a threat, as prey.

Paige’s throat felt tight. “She’s not in danger—”

“Yes, she is,” Azzi cut in, voice sharp. “Because you made her important.”

Paige swallowed hard, but it didn’t help the sinking feeling in her chest.

“I’ll handle it,” she murmured.

Azzi didn’t look convinced.

But she didn’t argue.

She just gave Paige one last unreadable glance, then turned and disappeared into the night.

Paige stood there for a long time, staring at the empty street.

At Y/N’s building.

At the single, dimly lit window on the third floor.

She didn’t move until the light went out.

And even then, she still couldn’t convince herself to walk away.

Because she knew the truth.

She wasn’t going to let Y/N go.

Even if it destroyed them both.