#the reason is because whenever i save the file and go to take a break or something and come back to finish/continue it

[kissorkill16]

A Psychopath's Son: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: In a deep state of mental psychosis, an asylum patient named Theodore Peterson grows attached to his doctor, Nicholas Roth.

(P.S., for @ghostly-writers !)

(P.P.S., swapped version here!)

👇

Nicky was just 18 when he started working at the Missouri mental hospital.

He took this job because he wanted to be able to help people with mental problems and save them from hurting themselves or other people.

His father had a bad mental health issue, where he always screamed and threw stuff at people whenever he had a mental episode, his episodes ended up killing himself and his mother.

So that's another reason why he wanted to help these nutcases, to save them from doing something to their loved ones.

Even though he was young, he's actually helped a lot of the patients make a full recovery and make it out of the hospital.

One afternoon, Nicky was just eating lunch in the break room, and his boss came up to him. "Nick, do you have a moment?", he asked. Nicky was just finishing up his sandwich.

"I'm not busy, what's up?", he asked.

"You've been assigned a new patient.", said the boss.

Nicky raised his eyebrows, "Already? Damn. Not even a week passed and I'm already getting assigned a new patient.", he said, almost sounding impressed.

The boss handed him a couple of papers. "This is his file.", he said, then he walked out of the break room. Nicky took a look at the file.

Theodore Masters Peterson.

Age 54

Gender: Male.

Nicky went to Cell 514, where Theodore was being held in. He unlocked the door and stepped in, and he was greeted by a large, pale man with messy reddish brown hair and mustache.

This must be Theodore.

The patient looked up at Nicky, and Nicky could see his dark eye bags.

"Hello, Theodore.", said Nicky. "My name is Nicholas Roth, but you can call me Nicky. I'm here, because I've been assigned as your doctor."

The patient smiled, and it almost looked like he was mocking him. That smile looked so wicked. "You won't last a day.", he said in a deep, gravely voice. "All of the doctors assigned to me have ended up going insane themselves. What makes you think you'll have a different result?"

Nicky stepped forward to his patient, a determined look on his face. "Because I've dealt with people more mentally unstable than you, Ted. I'm sure whatever you throw at me, I'll be able to handle it."

Ted raised his eyebrows, "You look a lot younger up close.", he said. "How old are you, young man?"

Nicky backed away from him a little bit, feeling a little scared, but not scared enough to go tell his boss to assign this weirdo to someone else. "That's none of your business, Ted.", he said, almost stuttering.

He gently took Ted by the arm and pulled him off the bed, then he took out a pair of handcuffs and put them around his wrists behind his back. "Let's go to the office.", he said.

Nicky sighed as he pulled out something else from his coat.

A syringe filled with a dark blue liquid.

"Unfortunately, I'm required to do this so patients don't get fussy.", he said to his patient. But Ted just smiled at him.

"Oh don't worry about it, Nicky.", he said.

Nicky hesitated for a moment, then he slowly dug the needle into Ted's arm.

Nicky held Ted as he fell a bit limp on his side, half carrying him to the therapy office.

As they sat across from each other in the office, Nicky took notes as Ted began telling his story.

"My wife died in a car accident a few years ago. She was with child, and the impact of the crash killed her and my child.", he said, looking down at his lap. "After that, I started trying to take random children around my neighborhood, and...that's why I'm here."

Nicky couldn't help but feel a little bit bad for the poor man.

This patient had lost his family, so he tried to replace it to fill that empty space in his heart,...in his own horrible way.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ted.", he said.

Then out of nowhere, Ted started crying and burying his face in his hands.

"I'm all alone! I'm all alone!", he kept screaming.

Nicky threw his pad and pen down next to him and walked over to Ted. "Mr. Peterson, calm down.", he said. He wrapped his arms around him, "It's alright, sir. You're not alone, at least not right now. Please calm down, Ted."

Miraculously, Ted did calm down.

He relaxed in Nicky's arms, and Nicky was about to let go, but then Ted wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

Nicky smiled, happy that he was able to calm him down. But then he said something that completely surprised Nicky.

"My son."

Nicky's eyes widened, completely shocked.

"Did he just call me his son?", he thought.

He wanted to tell him that he wasn't his son, that he was just stuck in a delusion.

But he didn't want to make him angry, so he just stayed silent.

After a while, he gently pried the arms away from his waist. "I think we're making some great progress.", he said. "I'm proud of you, Ted."

Ted smiled, "Thank you, Nicholas."

During the following month, Ted and Nicky started seeing each other more often. They spoke to each other more, and Nicky was sure he was getting better.

He still felt kind of weird whenever Ted called him his son, but he didn't want to upset his patient, so he just let him call him whatever he wanted.

Then at one of their sessions, he accidentally let slip the history of his parents. How his father killed his mother and then himself.

When Nicky said that, he slapped his head over his mouth. Ted stared at him for a moment, then he nodded and looked down at his lap.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Nicholas.", he said. "Looks like you and I have something in common."

Nicky looked at his patient, completely confused.

"We both lost our families, and we're both trying to fill that space.", he said. "You with your patients, and me with you. You're so young, so trusting, and that's what I love about you Nicholas."

Nicky clenched his fists, feeling a little afraid. "What do you mean by that, Ted?", he asked.

"You have a child's heart and soul.", said the patient. "I must have you. I don't want you to be my doctor, I want you to be my son."

Nicky felt his heart beat faster and faster with every word that came out of Ted's mouth. He quickly stood up, "I think we're done here.", he said. But just as he was about to leave, Ted grabbed his arm, squeezing it so hard he was sure it was going to leave a bruise.

"Ted, let me go.", Nicky said, his voice trembling, but not like he was about to cry.

"Don't leave me, Nicholas.", said Ted, "I don't want to be alone again. I won't let you leave me.", he went from desperate speaking to angry growling.

"I said let go of me!"

Nicky finally managed to pull his arm free from Ted's grip.

He rubbed his arm, not looking at his patient. "Look, Ted. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice.", he said. "Just please keep your hands to yourself for the foreseeable future. I don't want to put handcuffs on you every therapy session."

Ted had his fists clenched, he looked down at his lap to hide his menacing face. "Of course, Nicky. I apologize."

Nicky left the office, still rubbing his arm. He made a mental note to talk to his boss about assigning Ted a new doctor.

After a week or so, Nicky didn't see much of Ted. What's weird was that he felt a little relieved, and a little upset.

He knew Ted was in a deep delusion that he was his son, and he knew he tried to hurt him their last therapy session, but he couldn't help but miss Ted a little bit.

He thought about him a little bit as he ate his dinner.

Then he nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard the alarm sound through the entire building. He ran out of the break room, and saw that every single member of the staff was in a panic.

"What happened?! What's going on?!", he asked.

One of the nurses answered, "One of the patients made a jailbreak!", she said. "Cell number 514 was found empty this evening."

Nicky's eyes widened in shock.

That was Ted's cell number.

Still panicked, he ran to cell 514 and searched all around the room, making sure that Ted was missing.

He clutched the sides of his head, feeling the world begin to spin.

"Oh God!", he whispered. "Oh God, oh no, oh no!"

Just then, he felt two big, strong arms wrap around his arms and waist, then he felt himself being hoisted over someone's shoulder. Immediately, Nicky began panicking and flailing.

"PUT ME DOWN!", he screamed, "LET ME GO! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! ANYBODY!"

Then he felt something sharp prick his neck. His eyes widened, then everything around him went dark.

When he woke up, his head felt heavy. Too heavy to sit up, he just turned his head around, and his eyes widened in fear when he realized he was strapped down to a bed.

He started struggling and trying to get out of the straps, but to no avail.

"Hello?!", he called out. "Someone help me! Please! Anybody! I'm trapped!"

Just then, he saw a light come from the top of a set of stairs. Someone walked through the door, down the stairs, and straight to the bed Nicky was strapped down to.

"Good morning, darling."

It was Ted.

Nicky's patient.

Once again, Nicky started struggling again. "Theodore, get me out of this!", he said. Ted shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I can't do that.", he said. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

Ted's eyes turned darker, and he grabbed Nicky's cheeks and made him turn to look at him.

"Don't speak to me like that, young man. I am your father, and you will treat me with respect."

Nicky felt his eyes fill with tears. Ted let go of his face and wiped the tears that fell down his cheeks away. "Don't cry, honey. Daddy won't hurt you, I just want you to behave."

Nicky looked away from him, moving his face away from Ted's gentle hand. "Please let me go.", he whimpered.

Ted gave Nicky a gentle kiss on his forehead, "I'm sorry, dear. I can't do that. You might try to run from me or hurt yourself. I don't want that.", he said. His words only made Nicky cry more.

Ted continued wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes.

"Don't cry, love.", he said. "As soon as I'm sure you're adjusted enough to the rules, I'll consider letting you go."

Nicky nodded, admitting defeat.

After a few months, Nicky started getting adjusted to Ted's little delusion, feeling it as his only way to make sure Ted wouldn't hurt him.

But soon, he started drowning in his head and started genuinely believing that he was Ted's son. Every strand of his sanity slowly slipped away.

Ted eventually did unstrap him from the bed, but didn't let him out of the room.

He only let him out whenever he wanted to spend some quality time with his son, and when he did, he heavily sedated him so he'd be too weak to try and escape.

One night, Nicky was playing with a couple of toy cars, and then he heard Ted come into the room. Then he felt a kiss on his forehead.

"It's time for bed, dear.", said Ted, "You go over to the bed, I'll strap you down in a minute."

Nicky slowly stood up, and Ted gently took his hands and held him against his chest.

"Yes, daddy.", said Nicky, sounding almost emotionless.

[bullet-prooflove]

Covert Affairs: Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: G. Callen)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds @thiashazzywriting @whateversomethingbruh

You’ve been with Sabatino almost two years when your relationship gets thrust into the spotlight. It’s a litany of stolen moments whenever he arrives back in LA. Whirlwind dinner dates and nights spent ruining you in the sheets of his hotel room. You hit your favourite brunch spots, ranking them with detailed notes you keep on your phone for the next time he’s in town. He gives you a tour of Hollywood, the places he used to haunt back in the day when he was playing with his band. You catch a couple of shows over pitchers of beer in a dive bar or two.

“Do you ever think about doing it again?” You ask him as you watch the band from a spot near the bar. Your back comes to rest against his chest, his arm looped around your waist, holding you close.

“Maybe one day, when I finally put down some roots.” He murmurs into your ear as he nuzzles the curve of your throat. “I miss making music.”

He fucks you in the bathroom of the bar, the pulse of the music vibrating through the walls as he goes down on you to a God-awful rendition of ‘Killer Queen’. Whenever you hear that song in the aftermath, you think of that night. His mouth on you, tongue thrust deep inside when you come for him just as Freddy hits the high note.

Sam’s away in Somalia when Nell and Eric identify a problem. Someone has been downloading classified data from the NCIS server and selling it on the black market. An investigation is opened into everyone who was working at a computer terminal during the download, and you happen to be one of them. You’d stayed late to catch up on the after-action reports after losing a bet to Callen at the shooting rage.

It’s ridiculous that a tickle in your nose just as you’re about to pull the trigger is the reason your whole life blows up.

Part of the investigation includes cloning the personal phones of the people under suspicion so they can deep dive into their lives. You make it relatively easy, leaving yours in the top drawer of your desk when you hit the gym with Kensi. Nobody really believes it’s you, you’ve been with them six years. You’ve shed blood, cried tears, saved their lives, fought their battles. For Nell and Eric, it’s simply a process of elimination, that is until they find a wealth of incriminating data.

Calls from multiple international sources they can’t verify.

An encrypted message app, hidden under the calculator icon.

A secret cache of files that are password protected.

It’s all high-level security, something you don’t need on your personal device, almost NSA level shit. Even with their tech savvy it would take hours to break into the phone and they don’t have that kind of time because you’ve just received a text from a burner cell telling you to meet at The Majestic Hotel, Room 216, later this evening.

You must be meeting the buyer.

They can’t take the risk of that information falling into the wrong hands, so it becomes an op with you as the target. It’s hastily put together, there’s no time to run prior surveillance because it’s going down just as they pull up to the hotel. They catch a glimpse of you stepping into the room before the door closes quietly behind you.

Callen, Deeks and Kensi take up residence just outside the door, allowing a few minutes for the exchange to take place before they use the keycard to gain entry.

When they burst into the room guns drawn, it’s not what anyone expected.

The first thing they see is Sabatino. He’s in a state of undress. His white button up shirt hangs open, revealing his bare chest including that messy scar etched into his flesh. There’s lipstick marks trailing down the hollow of his throat, staining his skin. It’s fire engine red, the shade you were wearing. He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender, his body shielding you from what he perceives to be a threat.

For Callen it's an echo back to that day in Afghanistan, the one when Sabatino put himself between you and the bullet that would have ended your life.

When you step out from behind him, you’re in a similar state of disarray. Your lipstick is smeared across your mouth, your hands tugging the fabric of the black wrap dress around your body covering up the lingerie that you’re wearing.

You’re both arrested and taken to separate interrogation rooms in the Boatshed. You’re silent in the face of the accusation but Sabatino, he will not stop talking. He’s pissed on your behalf, that your team won’t give you the benefit of the doubt, that you’re being treated like a criminal. Him, he’s used to this shit, but you deserve better.

You don’t blame them for suspecting you, you know how it looks. You’d be doing the same thing in their shoes; in fact, you have.

They sweat you for a while, leave you spinning your wheels. It’s standard procedure in a case like this, let the suspect get in their own head, make them eager to talk. You know what’ll happen in that time, they’ll find evidence of your relationship with Sabatino. It’s not that that bothers you, it’s the intimate items you’d brought with you to the hotel room sitting in your overnight bag. The one that someone is now going to have to search through. It’s humiliating.

It's Callen that comes to interrogate you, you didn’t expect anything different, he is your superior after all. You know that your conversation is about to get a lot more personal because Callen has to consider the possibility that Sabatino’s been using you for intel, he wouldn’t be doing his due diligence if he didn’t.

“Your relationship with Sabatino, take me through it.”

So, you do, from that first kiss in the car to the last time he was in town. As you detail your relationship, things start to make sense to Callen, pieces he hasn’t put together until now. Sabatino’s reaction back in Afghanistan when you were taken, the fact he’d undertaken the prisoner walk instead of a member of your team. He had known that bullet was coming, that the Taliban couldn’t afford to let you go. He’d been prepared to die for you that day.

Callen thinks about earlier in the hotel room, Sabatino’s first instinct had been to get between you and whatever was coming through that door. He understands that urge, it’s reactive and primal, like a wolf protecting his mate.

There’s other things he’s noticed. Sabatino’s smile when you’re around, it brighter, more genuine. The look he gives you, there’s always a warmth in it despite the fact he’s being a smartass. The last time they’d arrested him, he’d been reserved but this time he’s irate and Callen knows that it comes from a place of love. That he’s infuriated on your behalf.

At the end of your story, you give him the passwords for your phone. Everything you need to prove the existence of your relationship resides on that device.

“See for yourself.” You tell him and he does.

Those files you’d encrypted?

Selfies.

The two of you eating ice cream on the boulevard, the sun setting in the background. Sabatino kissing your cheek as you smile into the camera at a bar in Hollywood. Him playing a guitar on the couch in your living room, a book of chords laid out in front of him. There’s more of them, documenting your relationship over the past two years. For anyone else these would be normal Instagram images but for someone who’s a covert agent they’re a death sentence.

The hidden chat app?

It’s full of voice notes filled with private, intimate things that no one else should ever be privy to.

When I look up at the sky tonight it reminds me of Afghanistan, the first night I spent with you.

You looked too beautiful to wake up this morning, I’m sorry I had to leave.

The sun’s just rising here, and all I can think about is how I wish I was waking up next to you.

The international calls?

Callen realises it’s Sabatino checking in, letting you know he’s still alive.

By all accounts he’s looking at a couple in love, one that’s been forced to keep their relationship a secret due the nature of Sabatino’s career. Callen’s worked for the CIA; he knows the risks. He also knows that this man would set the entire world on fire if anything happened to you.

“Come for a drink tonight.” Callen suggests when it’s all said and done. “I wanna get to know Sabatino a little better, you know, just in case he ends up joining the family.”

You roll your eyes as you stand in the main room of the Boatshed, gathering the few personal items that had been transported with you.

“Our very fucked up little family.” You retort.

“Neither less he’s important to you, so he’s important to us too.” Callen tells you.

You can hear the sincerity in voice. Callen doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, not to you. You’ve been lied to too many times in the past before you’d transferred to LA. Your old partner back San Diego had been corrupt, it had been a severe blow to your psyche. You’d been transferred to LA because you were deemed a problem child. Callen got that, he’d understood it. He’d made you a deal.

“If you’re upfront with me, I’ll be upfront with you, it’s a two-way street.”  

That’s the way the two of you operated and it had worked consistently over the past six years.

“Even after all of this.” You say gesturing at the monitors that oversee the interrogation rooms.

You’re talking about the fact that you’ve spent two years hiding your life with a man, he has a kinda love/hate relationship with. Out of everyone you work with Callen has the most trust issues, this should be a problem for him, but the thing is, it’s not. He understands it on both levels. You’re protecting the man you love, and Sabatino, he’s protecting you too.

“Especially after all of this.” He says firmly before he places his palms on the surface of the wooden table and tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “Look I’m not going to pretend I understand what you see in the guy, but he cares about you, hell he almost died for you, and I can’t fault him for that. Trust me I want to, but I can’t.”

There’s an edge of humour to his voice because his interactions with Sabatino have always fluctuated between irritation and respect. The man is an excellent operative, and the problem is he knows it. You find yourself smiling despite yourself, your fingertips tapping lightly on the table.

“Alright.” You agree because this how you step into the light, how the two of you move forward into the future. “But the drinks are on you guys tonight.”

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[marie-swriting]

We're Gonna Get Outta Here

Masterlist

Summary : You're working for W.I.C.K.E.D but you can't take it anymore when your best friend dies during the Maze Trial. With Thomas' help, you give information to the Right Arm and try to get out of the facility together.

Warnings : character's deaths (reader included), guns and gunfire, mention of violent interrogation, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2.7k

French version on Wattpad

French version on Tumblr

In front of the computer, you’re completing your daily tasks : observing Maze A, testing the subjects and writing down the results of today’s experiences. You comply like a robot. You know if you think too much, you’ll realise all the pain you’re inflicting. So you try to keep an emotional distance with the Maze Trials, with the subjects, with your friends. However, some days are harder than others, especially when, first thing in the morning, you get a file with the word “death” written on it. Sometimes you see those deaths live, other times they happen when your work is already over. When you’ve started your day, you didn’t know another person had failed the trial. Anxious, you open the file and read ‘Subject A25 : Nicolas’. Tears form in your eyes in an instant. You close the folder and pretend you need to use the bathroom. You try to sob in silence but if someone listens carefully, they can hear your pain. You’re short of breath everytime you think back to this paper. This paper telling you about the death of your best friend since you were ten. He’s not the first to die but his death is your last straw. You wish you could scream all your despair, but you can’t. You can’t feel anything while working ; for W.I.C.K.E.D, you’re here to find a cure, not to do feelings. Sacrifices need to be made. You can’t forget it. Janson won’t let you. Your tears are stronger when suddenly someone knocks on the door. You stop sobbing, fearing you’ll be discovered. When you hear Thomas’ voice, you open to him. He stays in front of you for a few seconds before daring to talk.

“I read the file. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I’m sick of it, Thomas.” you say, angry, “I can’t watch them die anymore. I can’t watch my friends die anymore. I want it to stop ! I know we’re doing it for a good cause, but do we really need to sacrifice all these human lives for a potential cure ? It is not fair.”

“I know.”

“I want to get them out of there. I want us to get them out of there and leave with them, far away from W.I.C.K.E.D. I won’t be able to take another death, Thomas. I… I can’t.” you pronounce with a broken voice.

Ignoring what to say, Thomas takes you in his arms. He hopes he’ll reassure you but he knows in this kind of situation, it’d be an utopia. You’re doomed to see horrors in the hope to save humanity. Nothing he could do or say would help you to get better. He knows it because he tries everyday to reassure himself, in vain.

“We should go.” you resume, breaking your embrace, “Janson is gonna wonder where we are.”

“You’ll be okay ?”

“Will they ?” you retort, eyes full of pain.

Thomas stays silent, knowing he can’t answer your question honestly. You give him one last look, leave the bathroom and go back to your job. Thomas takes a few minutes before going back as well, a neutral expression on his face. As for you, you use your computer as if a few instants before you weren’t overwhelmed by your emotions. You both act like they taught you.

The next few days, you grieve in silence. Thomas stays by your side even though he feels useless. However, he doesn’t realise it but he helps you to not sink because you tell yourself that despite everything, you still have Thomas. You’re not entirely lost. You still have a reason to go on.

During the night, you both leave your respective dormitory, meeting each other in an isolated room in the W.I.C.K.E.D facility, like you always do whenever one of you is feeling down. You don’t do anything special there. You just cuddle, trying to forget the pain of the world and yours. It’s not successful but you’re there for each other. That night, Thomas breaks the silence with important information.

“I know how we can help them.”

“What do you mean ?”

“You remember Doctor Mary ?” he asks and you nod, “She left W.I.C.K.E.D because she didn’t agree with their experiences anymore. She works for the Right Arm now.”

“The Right Arm, the resistance ?” you want to make sure, looking at him.

“Yeah. I think she could delay some of their plans with the information she had but now, she doesn’t have access to it anymore. If we can communicate with her, we can help them. We’ll give the Right Arm everything they’ll need before leaving.” Thomas states, determined.

“How can we find her ? The Right Arm must be untraceable.”

“I started researching when we learned of Nicolas' death. I think I’m about to find them. It’ll be dangerous but we can get our friends out of these mazes. What do you say ?”

“I’m with you.” you accept, without an ounce of hesitation, “I want to bring down W.I.C.K.E.D.”

You look into each other’s eyes, courage taking possession of your body. You have a plan and you’ll make sure you’ll put it into action as soon as possible. Sacrifices have been going on for too long.

When Thomas has finally found the Right Arm, he lets you know. During the night, you both get in one of the rare rooms where there is a radio to communicate with the outside and start the call. You’re happy to be so close and yet scared that the Right Arm might not trust you.

“Hello ? I’m Thomas, I work for W.I.C.K.E.D and I got information for you.” he starts the conversation without an answer, “Mary ? Are you there ? It’s me Thomas. I can help you.”

You stay silenced for a few moments. Thomas is about to cut the communication off when he hears a feminine voice.

“Thomas ? I’d never thought I’d hear from you. Are you safe ? Are you alone ?”

“Y/N is with me. We want to give you all the information you’ll need to bring down W.I.C.K.E.D. We don’t want to see our friends die anymore.”

“We want it to stop. No one deserves to be in those mazes. We want to save them.” you add with teary eyes.

“Very well. I’m going to talk with the other members of the Right Arm. I’ll call you back tomorrow around the same time to organise ourselves. Keep a low profile.”

“Thanks Mary.”

When the call is over, Thomas puts the radio aside and turns to you. Even though you have to wait for the Right Arm’s approval, you both can’t help but smile. You have Mary’s support. You’ll be able to get out of here.

“Thanks Thomas.” you say, “You’ve given me hope again. I never thought it’d be possible.”

“We’ll do everything to help them. We’ll do it.”

When the Right Arm accepts to collaborate with you, you and Thomas start gathering important data and communicate with them once a week. You and Thomas give only a few to let them get ready without alerting Doctor Paige or worse Janson.

One night, while you’re getting ready to sleep, Teresa takes you aside, with a compassionate smile on her face.

“I heard about Nicolas. I’m sorry.” she states genuinely, “but we can’t forget why we’re doing all of this. We must find a cure. The Flare is becoming deadlier every day.”

“I know,” you answer without any emotion, “I’m going to bed, I’m tired.”

Teresa puts her hand on your arm, showing you her support. You smile slightly at her before going to your bed. Your friend’s words have upset you. You know Teresa doesn’t act meanly. She told you her story with her mom, you know why she desperately wants to find a cure. But for you, it doesn’t justify the fact that people act as if all these deaths didn’t represent anything. They represent something for you : your cowardice, your impotence, your pain, but above all, your privilege to have escaped the Trials.

When Thomas and you started working for the Right Arm, you had thought of letting Teresa know but your doubts had held you back. Your conversation with your friend proved to you, you did the right thing. Teresa wouldn’t have agreed with your actions, no matter if you’re friends. For her, W.I.C.K.E.D is really good.

Two months passed, Thomas and you have succeeded to forward information without being noticed. The nights where W.I.C.K.E.D have to handle some crisis, you give more details, allowing the Right Arm to perfect their attack plan. You’re still at the facility, waiting for the perfect moment to run away.

One night, Thomas gives the week’s data before joining you in you and Thomas' shared room. Besides being your safe place, it has also become the place where you wait for the other before debriefing.

When Thomas comes into the room, he sits next to you on the ground. You take each other in your arms and stay silent at first, allowing Thomas to release the fear of being found. When his breath is calmer, he draws your attention.

“Next week, we’re leaving this place. I talked about it with Mary and if we give every known place of their facilities and labs, they’ll have enough to bring down W.I.C.K.E.D so we’ll be able to clear off. You’ll take care of forwarding everything and I’ll take care of making sure we have a way out. They’ll be able to save our friends from the Mazes and take us away from this organisation. Everything is settled.”

“Thomas, it’s risky.” you retort, anxious, “We’re lucky we haven’t gotten caught yet. It’d be too much in one go.”

“We have one week to plan everything correctly. I already have some idea of how we can do it. Don’t worry, we’re gonna get outta here.” he assures you, making you think a little more.

“I trust you, Thomas.”

The following week, your plan is ready. It’s still risky but it can work. You've kept an even lower profile to not give Janson any reason to be suspicious. You do exactly what is asked, without showing any rebellious sign.

When the plan has started, you get every file you need to send, it takes longer than usual. Your stress is at its peak while you’re looking at the downloading line. You can’t stop watching around, afraid to be discovered. For Thomas, he’s on his way toward the control centre. He needs to be sure you both will be able to get out of the facility once you're done. He needs to fight some of the guards on the way, he barely handles them. While he’s doing everything to open the doors, the last data is finally transferred to the Right Arm. You sigh in relief and leave the room. You’re careful on your way to the place Thomas told you to go to. When he’s done with everything for your escape, he hears the walkie-talkie of one of the guards he’s knocked down.

“Need backup. One subject out of the dormitory. Information transferred outside. Janson knows about it. Over.”

Panic takes possession of Thomas’ body, he leaves the room running. He doesn’t try to be discreet, he just wants to find you. You both can’t waste another second, it’s now or never to leave. While he’s looking for you, he finds Teresa around a corner.

“Thomas ? What are you doing here ?” she questions.

“I could ask you the same thing.” he answers, trying to hide his stress.

“I’m working with Doctor Paige after my day. Everything alright ? You should be in your dormitory.”

“I… I need to find Y/N.” Thomas admits, not wanting to waste even more time, “Look, we’re getting outta here tonight but she got caught. Help me find her. If you want to follow us or not, that’s up to you but help me. We just want to leave this place. We don’t want all this blood on our hands anymore.”

“Thomas, I don’t-”

“You’re gonna help me or not ?!” he cuts her off, impatiently.

Teresa doesn’t have the time to answer him that guards are already grabbing Thomas and pushing him backward. He tries to fight them while Teresa is watching the scene, shocked. Thomas is being dragged by force in one of the parts of the facility he knows all too well. They’re going to erase his memory and put him in the maze. He can’t let that happen. He needs to fight. He needs to at least make sure you’re safe. The guards tighten their grip on the teenager, preventing him from moving. When they arrive in the room, they tie him down on a stretcher before ejecting him a product, making him fall asleep instantly. Thomas is changed while he gets more injections, Janson looking at everything they're doing to him. As for you, you’re being interrogated violently. They want to know where the Right Arm is hiding. You stay silent at every punch. You try to recover from an umpteenth hit when you quickly hear a walkie-talkie. One of the guards takes you by the arm and forces you to walk. You don’t look where you’re going, too exhausted. Nothing has importance anymore. You got caught. You won’t be able to escape. You’ll be put on high surveillance or you’ll be sent into the Maze. You only hope Thomas was luckier than you. When you arrive in the room with the guards, they throw you on the ground. You don’t move until you hear Janson’s voice.

“I have to admit you could have gotten away with it. We had doubts there had been leaks but nothing was certain. You knew how to hide your betrayal. But it wasn’t enough. You have been careless today which is why we found you both.”

“Both ?” you ask, hoping you didn’t hear correctly.

“I know very well you weren’t acting on your own, Y/N. Say hello to Thomas. He’s just over there.” he smiles, showing you something behind him.

“Thomas ? Let him go !” you scream, trying to stand up but the guards stop you. “It was my idea ! It wasn’t his fault ! Let him go !”

Your gaze is fixed on Thomas who is trapped in some kind of vertical basin being filled with water. He’s hitting the glass while Janson gets closer to you with a machiavellian smile.

“You were two in on it. You’re going to pay for the consequences of your selfishness.”

“Our selfishness ? What a joke.”

“You tried to fail experience to find a cure that could save humanity for some friends. I think we can say it’s not very charitable.”

“Let him go, please.” you repeat, desperate.

“Oh no ! You’re going to watch his lung being filled with water.” he states, holding your face, forcing you to look at the scene.

Thomas' body is almost fully under water. His head is only above it, allowing him to scream as loud as he can, but the wall lower his voice.

“You're a monster.” you spat

“A man of science, I prefer.”

Thomas keeps screaming, begging them to let you go, but his efforts are vain. The process is almost over and Janson would have never accepted, too proud to have stopped W.I.C.K.E.D’s two traitors.

“Tell me what I can do. If you leave him alone, I’ll do everything you’ll tell me.” you propose.

“Very well. So be a good girl and never speak again.”

When he’s done talking, Janson quickly takes out a weapon and shots you. You don’t have the time to react that your body is already hitting on the ground. Thomas yells louder, even if he’s on the verge of drowning. His tears are getting lost in the basin while he’s watching your blood spreading out on the floor. He keeps hitting the wall, drawing Janson’s attention. He looks at him with a devilish smile. Thomas shows every ounce of anger and frustration until the water in his lungs makes him lose consciousness. Janson sighs happily before ordering someone to get rid of your body and to transfer Thomas into Maze A where his Trial is about to begin.

Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[leonandclairebsaa]

sorry for my english, use the traslator

sorry for my english, use the traslator

Since I started this tumblr years ago, you know my preference for the Cleon ship ( For some reason it's called Leon and Claire BSAA ) From time to time I get messages from rude people from the AEON Fandom (Everyone in the fandom doesn't get into the description because I know a few and they're wonderful people you can talk to. normal). I've been accepting for many years what Capcom says about the AEON relationship, which is the canon of the saga... and I think it's great. But my preference will always be the Cleon. Of all the saga relationships, the interaction between the two seems to me to be the healthiest and most credible: They're friends, they move on to something else in some areas like books, they fight, there are moments of tension... but they've never stopped worrying about each other and on Death Island you see that kind of concern for each other again. I don't need big gestures like Leon and Helena's scene in the 6th when Helena asks if she loves Ada and he's alone staring at her in silence because it must be hard to be in love with someone you only know brings you pain. (which I stress is Leon's passing away from talking to Helena about her feelings for meeting her for a day or two). But it looks like the AEON fandom if you need them. If you enjoy a relationship where Ada's been lying to Leon for years pretending that she's dead while he keeps stealing viruses and selling them to the best bidder, I think it's perfect, if you enjoy a relationship in which Ada steals a plague in front of Leon in Damnation and you only have to finish what they left out for my perfect (and then steals the plague and gets them to withdraw the international arrest warrant I had for the plague obtained). That on the 6th there was an opportunity after an opportunity for them to say how they felt (God Leon left his back to protect her from Simmons and there could have been something said... SOMETHING, because they were literally attached to each other and not the bullshit line that lets her fall asleep for a moment.) And then she walks away again without clearing up anything and telling her that monkey, I imagine you're confused about what's going on... I think it's great. I think it's something we don't discuss. That then there are people in the saga who don't like what they see in AEON is completely respectable because we have another mindset. I don't like it because it's a manipulation relationship between the two sides, it's a toxic relationship that in real life wouldn't be maintained anywhere, because I doubt that if AEON fans get something like this to happen to them every two years, and when they get what they want to leave and leave you devastated, I think more than You can't take that shit, even though there are people who like it from what I see... And I think the Files of 6 make it very clear: It's a complicated relationship.

_____________________________________________________

FILE:

Leon and Ada Ada Wong is a spy whose activities are always carried out outside the scope of action. Not much is known about her, not even verified whether Ada Wong is her real name or an alias. Ada met Leon Kennedy during the 1998 Raccoon City incident. Leon was still a rookie cop desperate to escape the nightmare that was taking place in the city and Ada was in Raccoon City to carry out a mission for a rival Umbrella Corporation company. The circumstances brought them together and at no time revealed their activities to Leon, Ada used him to carry out his task. The life-and-death struggle they had to face united them and Ada even saved Leon's life. Unfortunately, their paths separated before fleeing the city, but those feelings have always remained in their hearts. His paths have crossed again on several occasions, Leon already as an agent of the United States government and Ada as a spy. Ada has no qualms about using Leon whenever it suits her, but Leon resists breaking up with her. They're not considered enemies, but you don't know for sure how they feel about each other. The adjective that best sums up their relationship is undoubtedly "complicated". ____________________________________________________

What do I like about the Cleon? Easy. Leon smiles and feels comfortable with Claire... comfortable and quiet. It's the first time I've seen him fight a team that knew he wouldn't betray him.

You're kidding Jill, you're concerned about what's going on with Claire, you agree with Chris. And it's the only time we haven't seen him stuck to a bottle, drunk and bitter. But making jokes and enjoying fighting with people who have the same mentality as him. And that's the kind of relationship I like.

That I'd love the Cleon to be hot? Of course I'd love to. I love seeing them together. but since Infinite Darkness we've had a really bad time and Death Island has just given us crumbs and already, everyone who's seen the movie says: The Cleon is the most abused fandom in the world of video games. But I still don't get discouraged, I love it and I always love it even though Leon and Claire put them together (Claire is not a nun, she was in love with Neil until he betrayed her, another thing he has in common with Leon: loving people who then leave them lying down) ... I'il keep sending them forever because I love them together. Then, my dear anonymous, you delete the OR so it doesn't answer you and send me links. Enjoy your AEON and leave me alone with my Cleon. It's not my fault Capcom's changing things with Leon and Ada and this one didn't lend his ship at the end of the fourth. León was finally respected. Go complain to Capcom and let everyone enjoy their ship.

[thatonelesbianfander]

Found/Chosen Family C!Thomas & Creativitwins Headcanons!

I’ve been thinking about found family C!Thomas and Creativitwins a lot recently, so here’s some headcanons I have of them!

Headcanons under cutoff!

The three have weekly movie nights where they will sit in the living room, get snacks, put on a movie, and watch a movie together during the weekends

The twins absolutely love it when Gavin comes over, and they even have a DnD session they play together that Thomas DMs for them

Even though Thomas is not a fighter, he will still fight anyone who dares to insult the twins (The twins will also join in on the fighting and they will usually end up having to be broken up by one of the other sides)

One time Thomas and Remus had an argument about Thomas not understanding their autism that well and when Remus came back to try to set things right with Thomas they found Thomas passed out at the dining room table with a bunch of notes from hours of research about autism

Roman loves making little crafts and giving them to Thomas which Thomas ends up displaying on a special shelf just for Roman’s crafts

Thomas always makes sure to have an extra pair of headphones on him at all times when out in public with the twins in case Remus’s breaks

Whenever Remus self harms, Thomas will help them clean up the wounds (Thomas knows he can’t really talk Remus out of it, so all he tries to do is be as supportive as he can for them)

Thomas will sit and listen to the twins rant about their passions for hours on end

The three love to play video games together and are pretty competitive with each other

Roman and Remus love to play Animal Crossing together and both have hours worth of save files

Roman and Thomas love collecting little trinkets together on every trip they take, and love comparing and trading trinkets together

Thomas is the only people Roman ever really feels comfortable being vulnerable with and being able to talk to without the fear of being judged

Roman loves acting with Thomas and Remus and will even make her own little plays to put on with them

Thomas can never go one minute without one or both of the twins near him at all times (Even during the night when Thomas is sleeping, at least one of the twins are asleep next to him in the morning)

Thomas’s fridge is absolutely covered in drawings that the twins made for him and then when one drawing is replaced with another, the previous drawing usually ends up on a wall

The only time the three ever went to a rage room together they were kicked out because the twins caused a bunch of property damage by destroying the things they weren’t supposed to

The three love doing escape rooms together and constantly try to beat their previous time with a better one

The twins love gifting random things to Thomas but the things they gift him are wildly different (Roman gifts like a crow, Remus gifts like a cat)

Thomas loves giving the twins little nicknames

Thomas always helps bandage the twins up after their duels

Thomas likes to cook different meals for the twins from time to time (The twins are one of the only reasons why Thomas learned to cook)

Whenever the three take a trip to Disney Remus always forces the three of them to ride the Haunted Mansion together (Roman and Thomas always come out of it freaked out at the end)

One time during movie night, the three watched a movie that ended up being really sad and they ended up sobbing together for a good hour before passing out on the couch together

The three love having little picnics together in the local park during the summer

Roman and Remus love having Thomas read them a bedtime story

The twins get really clingy to Thomas whenever they’re upset or tired which leads to Thomas having at least one of the twins clinging onto him when he’s getting ready for bed

The twins love showing off their drawings in their sketchbooks to Thomas who loves seeing all of them (Thomas has an entire shelf filled with Remus and Roman’s old sketchbooks)

The three love to binge watch cartoons together while eating their meals

Remus loves hanging out in dark spaces and Thomas likes to construct little pillow forts for them to hang out in

Roman and Thomas have a lot of shared interests and can have conversations that span multiple hours just talking about their different hyperfixations and interests

[vanillaxmochi]

[MMD] Rose Spade Earrings [DOWNLOAD]

Hi, my name is Dee (alias Vanilla Mochi) and I like abusing Metasquoia 4's Text to Mesh function whenever I can

I was not going to put these up for download. On top of me just making these for personal reasons, I'm a verified Dumb Stupid Idiot™ who can't read context clues and/or subtext to save my life. If a creator doesn't explicitly state what I am and am not allowed to do with their assets, I will be stuck in a limbo of indecisiveness until I make up my mind or hunt around for a clear answer. And if いつものほん had a clear answer, I could not find it. I've seen others use flowers made by いつものほん on public downloads before, so I am going to assume this is okay and I'm not breaking any rules. Don't be surprised if I do take these down

I'm a very firm believer that everyone should have a hands-on hobby. Things like crocheting, sewing, making soaps or little sculptors out of clay. Stuff like that. My Government Assigned Hands-On Hobby is making jewelry, and earrings have been my bread and butter lately. Mostly because both spools of chain I bought don't like me, and I can't separate them easily to make necklaces or bracelets. I made a set of earrings based on Ace and Deuce from Twisted Wonderland for funsies, and I ended up making a sister set with just the Spade face. I wanted to make a matching set with the Heart face, but for whatever reason the pack I bought online only had one Red Heart while the rest where black??? And I only got 6 Hearts to begin with out of a (supposed) pack of 40 charms. Anger about that aside, I'm actually quite proud of my work and I decided to recreate the earrings in MMD. I might go back into Meta and make matching sets with the other 3 card faces, but for now it's just the Spade

Fair warning, these are heavy. Like, 1,180kb heavy. Absolutely not for the feint of heart

Rules may be subject to change without notice. Please refer to the online terms before downloading this part and before every use, but also read the Read Me given in the file for any rules that may be specific to that part. In cases were the online terms directly crash with the rules written in the Read Me, the online terms will always take precedence

Failure to adhere to these rules will result in suspension of distribution with no chance of redistribution. For any further inquiries, feel free to contact me

Created using Metasquoia 4, textures created using BeFunky. Rose model borrowed from いつものほん. SPH's borrowed from OE

Password Hint: Found in the Read Me

DOWNLOAD

Model: TDA, Vanilla Mochi Pose: Yamimori MME: ミーフォ茜, そぼろ

[koreposion]

Horror was always the type to never let bloodlust consume him. It's the reason why his LV never impacted him as much as it did the others. He was supposed to be levelheaded in a stressful situation, the one to piece things back together.

How was he supposed to do that in another version of his AU. He walked ahead of the others down the dark hallways of the lab. Parts missing and wallas torn for scavenging any functioning equipment. This must have been a punishment of some kind, he couldn't stand the cold interior of the halls.

The others were speaking, they were, he just could hear them. His reality was cracking with each step he took down the hall. To waste energy on a conversation only being had to lighten the mold was pointless. Trying to find himself was pointless, what use did he have? Nightmare had refered to this version of him as "Axe" how fun.

Soon he spotted red, a iconic red of his own eye light. He dropped to all fours and sprinted down the hall. Hoping to complete the mission quickly so they all could leave. Cross yelled a warning, he didn't listen, it didn't matter as long as the job was done.

He tackled himself onto the ground and kicked away the alternates weapon. In which he started talking,

"Now I'm really going crazy, there is no way I'm here? Losing my mind wasn't enough but now I have to see things appear in thin air." Axe spoke, his voice low and gravely, it scratched at Horror's ears like nails, "What are you supposed to torment me? What about myself don't I already know, you're just as pathetic as I am. Anyone can see that you don't want to be here."

Horror didn't respond, moving to just tie Axe up.

"Oh this is rich, I'm now too good for myself. What? Did you forget that you're a liar and a hypocrite? Are we forgetting that we leave people to rot even if we could save them? We're pathetic, what would this solve. You don't matter to anyone, and you never will." Axe was just as wordy as Horror was whenever he was frustrated. The same went for Horror's temper for being insulted. What right did this other version have to torment the both of them.

They don't need this, it's not healthy.

Horror doesn't want this, he starts crying and Axe takes the chance to shove Horror off of him. It was clear that Axe was very aware of not actually being delusional, at least in the hallucination way.

"Stars you are so weak! A few words and that's what it takes for you to cry? So the murder didn't do it, the hunger didn't do it, the loss of sleep?!" Axe flipped and stood up, watching as the rest of the team filed in. He laughed, "Oh so we're making friends now?! You going to tell them how pointless living is and how depressing you find life? To let them watch you rot because you're selfish?"

Dust saw Horror crying and went to comfort him before Cross stopped him. He pushed Dust and Killer back and took a step away himself. Horror's tears had turned a inky purple, and ran down his face like blood.

"This isn't good-" Cross spoke as he watched Nightmare's magic manifest in Horror in a way he hadn't seen before.

Crunch. Horror had slammed Axe's head into the ground, breaking off bone from the hole in his skull. He then ate the pieces, feeling them cut up his mouth as he swallowed it. Blood trickled out of his mouth, a deep royal purple.

Crack- a noise of bone being broken as Axe forcefully ripped bone from Horror's skull. He tossed it away, tearing at Horror's clothing and ribs. The pain didn't stop either of them from fighting like rabid dogs.

Axe tried to flip Horror off of him, but Horror pinned him down. His red eyelight turning a soft lilac color as he repeatedly slammed Axe's head into the dirty white floors of the lab. Noises of struggle, the splatter of blood and crying filled the dark corridor.

Horror sunk his teeth into his alternates neck. Tearing bone from his spine and eating it without chewing. His body was made for eating monsters, Axe remained alive as Horror went back for more with the goal of ridding himself from this horrid reflection.

Choosing to completely devour his face, starting from the skull wound to his eye and mouth. Leaving an empty hold where the face should be. The rest of the body crumbled into dust and Horror had gained a LVL, he hugged himself as he sobbed.

The LV he gained burning purple into him instead of red. His wound healed itself with purple thread and his eye remained purple. The pain barely registered to him, and sat there cradling himself. He scrathed at his rips, where his stomach would be if it formed. He was still so hungry and he didn't know why.

This wasn't good.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Dating Carlisle Cullen would include

- Being a medical student and having a chance at shadowing dr. Cullen brought out the ambitious, cutthroat side of her.

- Once she won the competition, she spent hours making sure she looks meticulous in order to start off her first day right.

- Staring in disbelief once she catches her first glimpse of Carlisle, finding herself off guard with his youthful look.

- Hand shaking nervously as he offers his to shake.

- Being mortified when she forgets her name and he’s the one having to correct her.

- Carlisle didn’t expect to find his med student so flustered, but he quite liked the way her heart skipped a beat or two during their introduction.

- Following him around and showering him with questions not just because of a thirst for knowledge, but also because his voice felt like the angel’s song straight from the heavens.

- Having a mini freak-out during lunch break once she finds a supply closet to hide in.

- “I’m impressed. Your first day went really well.”

“Because I didn’t kill anyone?” She’d chuckle, getting a chuckle in return which she found to be the greatest reward of all.

“Among other reasons, yes.”

- Thinking she’s doing fine and getting used to Carlisle when in fact she’s beet red whenever he looks at her and feeling palpitations every time he smiles.

- He smiles quite often. Often enough to ask her if she had a checkup recently. Often enough for Carlisle to believe she developed an arrhythmia. 

- Misspelling her own name on her second week because Carlisle was watching her.

- Carlisle noticing.

“I didn’t realize that’s how your name is spelled.”

Furrowing her brows, she looks up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Pointing at the signature, he watches her cheeks turn a shade darker as he hears the rush of blood to her face.

- Carlisle inviting her to lunch in week three.

- Their lunches become a routine, with Carlisle insisting on paying for hers.

“You can repay me by saving lives with what I teach you.”

- Joking about the “apple a day keeps the doctor away” whenever he sees you eating an apple.

- Borrowing his Littmann stethoscope as hers is a cheaper, med student kind.

- ”What is this?” Her eyes widen as she opens her birthday gift.

“Though you deserved one of your own”, he’d smile as she realized it’s a Littmann in her favorite color.

“How’d you know?”

“I might have looked at your personnel file.”

“THEY KNOW MY FAVORITE COLOR?!”

- Carlisle getting slightly panicked once he realizes what she meant and being tongue tied in front of her.

- Being invited for Christmas at Carlisle’s after he found out she’s not able to go home. 

- Realizing how odd his family is and genuinely beginning to wonder what kind of an eye mutation can give so many people golden eyes with no actual family ties.

- As she’s leaving, finding herself with Carlisle under the mistletoe and sharing a first kiss that lasted far longer than she expected.

- That was their first kiss, but not last. 

- Once it’s time for graduation, Carlisle ensures his hospital is a contender for her job prospects. 

- Treating Bella when she’s brought in before Carlisle arrives.

- Believing Bella when she overhears her taking to Edward.

- Confronting Carlisle and he lies to her, leading to a breakup. 

- It takes a few months for Carlisle to give in and fess up, further angering her for the times he’s deceived her before.

- Being taken to a prom as a chaperone and slow dancing. 

“This could be our song.” She smiles, resting her head on his chest.

“We can do better than Soulja boy.”

- Having a hard time with Carlisle’s decidion to leave Forks, more so once she was told she can’t follow them. 

- Commiserating with Bella, but remaining firm with Charlie on her opinion to get her a proper therapist.

- Taking a very cold approach with Carlisle once he returns to Forks.

- Being turned before the battle with Victoria’s newborn army after nearly dying after a car accident.

- Struggling with thirst, but enjoying other aspects of vampirism. Mainly the fact she no longer felt inferior to Carlisle. 

- Delivering Bella’s baby.

- Realizing she is a living lie detector. Using it against the Volturi in the clearing. 

- “There was a time where I didn’t believe this was possible.”

Wrapping an arm around her, Carlisle raised his brow. “What?”

“To be this happy.”

Smiling, he nods. “You made it possible.”

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to a Demigod MC 

So, I've gotten some interest to do a Brothers follow-up to a previous request of mine (Undateables React to a Cute, Badass MC), however, I've thus far refused to write one. Honestly, this HC actually plays on a trope I personally dislike and had it not been a request I would have never done it to start with. I just can't see any reasonable way a non-magic human can beat a bunch of demons, I just can't, and that hinders my imagination quite a bit. …But someone who’s not so human? That I can get behind. Fair warning, I grew up with the Percy Jackson series so that’s going to paint quite a bit of how I see modern demigods. Ready for things to get super-ultra fanfic-y for a bit?

Intro:

The day to kidnap bring the exchange students to the Devildom has finally come and the demons have all gathered in the Council Room to open their portal to the human world. Really, things started without a hitch - the portal opened with and their future student dropped down out of it and landed on the floor… before they suddenly leapt up, pulled out a weapon, and lunged at them!

… This isn’t your normal human, it is?

Lucifer

Oh Devil, this couldn’t have been any farther than what they wanted… They were looking for a human and they managed to pull out a halfling! A divine halfling no less!! Why wasn’t this in their file?!

Look, Lucifer might not be on good terms with his father, but even he knows he had it better than any children of the pagan gods… The levels of petty vindictiveness that run through that bunch are literally the stuff of legends...

After he and Barbatos were able to restrain the MC before they hurt themselves or anyone else, Diavolo explained everything to them and gave them a pardon for attacking the Demon Prince on sight… After they identified themselves and their parentage, Lucifer knew they were in for some shit…

He and Diavolo had to iron out an apology letter to their godly parent for days just to keep from saying anything that could accidentally cause a second Troy or worse... It was a mess...

But on the bright side, the “human” came pre-prepared for fighting monsters and demons, which honestly took a bit of a load off his shoulders. That’s less responsibility for Mammon - and in his experience, the less responsibility Mammon has, the better things usually turn out.

… Though their ability to actually hold their own in a fight did make things complicated sometimes - like whenever he was their perceived opponent... 

He wasn’t expecting to have to manage a being that was actually capable of meeting him toe-to-toe on the battlefield and it did hinder his intimidation factor to some degree…It was hard to be threatening to someone who’s likely faced worse than you could ever offer.

In the end it probably worked out for the best, as a live exchange student is better for Diavolo than a dead one - but man did it get on his nerves until they made their pact together… Be scared of him, dammit!

Mammon

The first time he tried to threaten the human, they straight up pulled out a weapon and looked like they were ready to whip his ass!! Didn’t they know he wasn’t being serious?? 😫

He really didn’t know why he had to be on babysitting duty, anymore... This huma-er demigod could handle themselves just fine!

When he first ditched them with Levi, he later found out they managed to cleanly toss his brother over their head and make a break for it all by themselves! And Levi’s no pushover either!!

Later, he saw them getting ambushed on their way back from school and they soundly knocked out about five demons before he even caught up to them… and he’s, like, fast and stuff… 

Their strength is kind of unreal at times, but he could tell they were still far from a mindless killing machine. They were more or less a normal person, they had wants and dreams like anybody else, but they just happened to be a long stronger than the average mortals around them. 🤷‍♀️

After he eventually got to know them and a bit about how their life worked, he felt a little bad for them... Who wants to be hunted down just for being born?

After learning about their struggles, Mammon ended up resolving to help keep them safe (even if a part of him knew they didn’t need him that much).

I mean, if the whole world’s against you, then you can use all the help you can get... right?

Leviathan 

Levi found out exactly one thing about them within the first two minutes of meeting them… their reflexes were killer.

After Mammon ditched them on Day One, he tried to drag the human to his room to tell them his genius plan but they broke out of his grip and threw him flat on his back like was just second nature! 

He was stuck on the ground for a full minute, trying to process what just happened, while they ran off into the House all alone…

Did he just get tossed around… by a human?? Was he really that pathetic!?!

Finding out later that they were actually half-god certainly helped out his self-esteem because, man, if he had lost so easily to a human of all things... He might have just never left his room again…

Levi pretty much kept his distance from them until they finally made a pact together and then he discovered that the MC wasn’t so scary after all. If he’s being honest, being in the same house as a demigod was actually kind of cool...! 

Like, it was almost exactly the plot of the show: “Wait, I Thought I Was the Son of a Pagan God So What Am I Doing in a Christian Hell??” but their MC seemed to know a lot more about fighting than the protagonist of that show ever did…

Plus, because he never had to worry about their safety, he had even more excuse to never leave his room. Win-win!

Satan

A demigod, eh…? He had done plenty of research into human world mythologies in his spare time, frankly he thought the old gods had died out - but it seems they were still up and kicking… and making babies for whatever reason? Horny bastards...

Satan's original interest in the MC was purely academic. It’s not everyday that you get to meet someone of such a unique heritage and he fully intended to learn if all the legends about their greatness were true… and well...

He could say that the MC was certainly different than how he pictured humans being. He’d never met very many before, but from what he could gather they were a weak race that really got by on wit and persistence… However, nothing about the MC was weak.

Their aptitude for combat was surprisingly sharp, both in skill and reflexes. He had once blown up at them in anger and not only did they dodge his swipes but they got in a good few hits themselves with a nearby lamp… He never once thought a mortal could give him a black-eye but, somehow, they pulled it off. 🤷‍♀️

Combine their physical skill with what magical gifts were granted to them by their godly-half and they were a force to be reckoned with… Even Solomon seemed to hesitate and think more about his actions around them (which is saying something for a sorcerer of his strength).

It’d be fair to say a part of him grew to respect the MC long before they ever made their pact and that respect only grew afterwards. If he had to be bound to any master, human or otherwise, he’d rather it be one that he could right about consider an equal not only as a friend, but in strength as well.

Asmodeus 

A demigod…? Oooo, he hadn’t come across one of those since he bedded Aeneas all those centuries ago… Such a gorgeous man, got all his looks from his mother~! 🤭

Asmo was probably the most interested in their godly heritage, but it felt like he was treating them like a zoo exhibit for a while… Something pretty and new to look at, but not exactly someone he wanted to know personally...

He openly and readily admitted that watching their little demigod in action got him hot and bothered (or well, more hot and bothered than usual ) but it didn’t take him to see they weren’t interested at the time…

He decided that he just had to have a pact with them after they saved him from Henry 1.0! It was before he noticed the giant snake and he was lurching back to strike, but the human swept in to knock him out of the way. They probably could have made mince meat of the creature themselves if Levi weren’t begging for them to spare his former pet...

Post-pact Asmo treated them with a lot more respect… but also still fanboyed over their fighting skills hardcore. 

Like, their body had to be fit to keep up with all those monsters, right?? What was their training routine? Could he watch?? Oh please say he can watch!! He just can’t get enough of that fighter’s physique…! 😍

Beelzebub 

So… the human isn’t a human but only part human? And the other part is a god? Does that make them any sturdier than normal humans…? Call him curious…

Beel was probably one of the few brothers who was legitimately weary of the MC from the beginning… He can get a certain feel for a person pretty quickly and something about them just felt…frankly, kind of dangerous.

But they also intrigued him a little… Beel’s used to being one of the strongest demons in any room he walks into (not a boast, just a fact) so for him to get that feel from a mortal was pretty impressive. A part of him just wanted to test them… you know?

So. He did. He asked them to help him train his martial arts one day and even with his awareness, he was not expecting the results that he got.

The MC was strong. Very strong. They were not only able to keep up with him and dodge his blows, but they were able to predict his moves and counterattack in kind. They didn’t even need to tell him that they had actually been fighting for their life for years, he could tell. They had a skill you don’t get from practice matches...

After that point, the two would go to each other to train and keep their skills sharp… but also just to spar for fun. Their fighting styles made a pretty good match and they bonded pretty damn quick because of it. 

If anime tells us anything, when you find a good fight buddy, you stick with them. Even if one’s part god and the other is a demon. 🤷‍♀️ 

Belphegor 

A demigod is still human enough to hate, sorry MC. Not that he knew about their godly heritage at first…

Really, he should have been a little more suspicious of how easily they seemed to take to life in the Devildom... Weren’t demons supposed to scare humans? Why did they seem so comfortable down here...?

His confirmation only came when he tried to enact the final part of “Use the MC to Escape the Attic!” plan and take their life to seal the deal… but oh boy, was he outclassed real quick… 

The MC had already socked him in the jaw by the time he got his full demon form out and then they threw him across the room by the tail… the TAIL!! And it hurt like a bitch, too!! Even during the full blown fight that followed, he could tell they were holding back and it pissed him off something fierce...!

Why was the MC so strong?!? Humans weren’t supposed to be strong!!!

His brothers heard all the commotion and the Lilith confrontation ended up happening up in the attic between a somewhat beat-up Belphie and a barely-scratched MC. Had Beel not come to his defense on instinct, it might have turned out worse for him in all honesty… Something about that human just wasn’t right…

He only found out about their god-half after everything settled down and he promised not to try killing them again (not that anyone thought he could...) and that put some things into perspective. So the Lastborn Ruler of Hell isn’t as strong as one mortal demigod…? Ouch. Okay, fine then... Whatever...

He does think it’s too bad he missed them beating the crap out of the rest of his brothers, though (minus Beel)... That would have been fun to see. 😔

So I tried to keep this one God-parent neutral, but I’ve upgraded this to its own series! Check it out if you’re interested! 😊

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes

[btsxmalereaders]

☆ Even in zero gravity, I would still fall for you!

♡ pairing — bang chan x male reader

> genre — fluff | f2l

> word count — 4.3k I don't know how this happened

> summary — chan realises he likes you by not being able to use pickup lines on you

> a/n — i saw a tiktok where chan says he's gonna use a pickup line on felix and my love-deprived self ended up writing this lol i hope you all like it

| 05282021

| Please keep making more whosfan accounts and keep streaming WOLFGANG on the correct platforms!

"Hey, how you doin'?" Chan casually says as he enters the kitchen, trying not to grin and start giggling right away. He even places his hands over the table and tilts his head a little in an attempt to look confident. Felix takes his attention away from the food he is cooking and turns on his feet to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Good?" He answers with an air of suspicion. "Why?"

Chan finally lets out a small giggle, "Oh nothing, I was just thinking that... I am not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together."

And Felix thinks it's a creative pickup line, funny even, but what ends up making him laugh is the way his best friend bends over to start laughing louder and the way his cheeks turn reddish at the embarrassment he's probably feeling.

"That was a good one, I must say," He chuckles. "Not as great as the Optimus Fine one, though. Even if it made you laugh for ten minutes after you said it."

And Chan can only laugh harder at the remembrance, placing his hands over his slightly aching abdomen and gasp for air when he can't handle it anymore. Felix giggles as well and denies with his head, going back to stir what's on the pot.

"Stays keep getting creative when it comes to flirting with you," He speaks again as the laughter finally dies down. "They probably think you might use it on someone you like, and you're here almost crying because you use them on us."

Chan hums, "Well, I don't really like anyone right now."

Felix turns off the stove and makes a -dramatic- pause, turning again to face Chan as he gets closer and squints his eyes. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Chan laughs. "Why would I lie?"

"I don't know, but I don't buy it. Maybe it's the love songs you have as drafts in your laptop."

"Ah, that doesn't mean I'm in love," He explains and takes a seat in front of him, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "That's why they're still drafts, though. They don't convey the feeling of being in love because I am not in love, you know?"

"Good point, but it still doesn't convince me."

"Why?" He asks again with a chuckle, a little embarrassed by the sudden interest in his - nonexistent - love life. "You know our activities barely give us time for ourselves, so it's almost impossible to have a relationship with someone. At least a formal one."

"You can still like someone and not be with them." Felix shrugs. "So spill it. Who is it?"

And Chan knows he's just messing around with him, but he can't help but feel flustered. "No one! I think so." He almost says it in a whisper; however, Felix doesn't comment on it.

"I still want to listen to those drafts," He stands up and smiles. "Why don't you show me?"

This was not the way Chan expected the conversation to go, so he hesitates a bit about his friend's request. Well, it wasn't unusual anyway, at least Changbin had heard a couple and also helped in the composition of the songs, so having someone else hear them wouldn't hurt. He might even listen to ideas on his part to improve them.

"Okay, I can do that. Next week Y/N will come to the studio and work on something, why don't you pop-up at some point and I can show you?"

Felix nods, "Sounds good! Y/N asked for help for his new album?"

"Yeah, he wants me to listen to some tracks he has been working on." He casually comments, taking his phone from his pocket and leading his attention to the device, so now Felix can't see the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Hm, I haven't seen him in a while. Why hasn't he come to the dorm lately? We should invite him."

"He has been busy with his album, that's why. If you think I leave late from the studio, that's nothing compared to him, he truly spends an ungodly amount of time there."

"So you see him often?" Felix asks with sudden interest, now being aware of how Chan's ears are tinted pink.

"You could say that, yeah. He also spends time on my studio whenever he has the chance. And vice-versa." He shrugs, not finding it odd. You two were really good friends, so it was a normal thing for you to do. "Why?"

"Nothing, I was just curious." He mischievously laughs. "So, next week, you said?"

After a quick glance at the time on your phone, you decide to stand up and stretch your body. It's been a long time since you started working, and you still have a lot to do; and on top of it all, the progress you've made tonight doesn't totally convince you, and that just meant you'd be spending more time in the studio.

As you take your phone again to read your notes, a notification pops up on the top. You weren't supposed to meet up with Chan until later, but in the new message you just received, he tells you that he's free from working on his stuff and you could go earlier if you wanted.

You decide to go; after all, it was nearly impossible for you to concentrate again, and you truly needed to know what does he think about the tracks you sent him a few days ago to finally make an advance. So you grab your laptop after making sure you've saved the changes and the cup of half-drunk coffee, walking out to the long hall and taking the elevator to an upper floor.

The soles of your shoes are dragged across the floor all the way to the studio's door, where you softly knock a couple of times before remembering you already know the password to enter. Your fingers press the buttons, entering code you know by heart at this point, and the door quickly unlocks, making Chan to look your way and greet you with a smile.

"Hey, how have you been?" He sweetly says, seeing you entering the room and placing your belongings on top of the big desk in front of you and taking a seat on the couch behind him.

"Busy. And tired." You murmur and let out a sigh. Chan immediately plays a song at a low volume and takes seat next to you.

"You're still struggling with the track you told me about?"

You nod as an answer and pout, "I am desperate. It's like, no matter how many times I rewrite the lyrics or change the beats, it still doesn't convince me at all and I hate it."

"I get it," He sighs. "But don't worry about it, I'm here to help you out."

And Chan isn't someone who breaks his promises, so the following hours are spent listening to your music, carefully reading everything you've written so far, listening to your ideas and giving you advice.

In between work, he tells you every other joke to make you laugh and feel at least a bit less stressed; and it works wonderfully since he has a long list of dad jokes that take you off guard, plus his laughter is contagious, so not laughing with him is impossible.

It's no surprise that his advice and opinions are so accurate to the point of clearing your mind and helping you out of your creative block. Chan has always been hard-working and so good with words that every time you engage him in conversations, you feel more relaxed and less burdened. No matter what situation you had a problem with, Chan would always help you find the best solution for it. Maybe that's why you admire him so much, maybe it was one of the many reasons why you didn't hesitate for a second to go to him and find security in his presence and words... Maybe it was one of the thousands of reasons why you had romantic feelings towards him...

"Is it better now?" His voice takes you out of your thoughts. He's sweetly smiling at you; he probably realized you got lost on the way his lips were moving as he told you his thoughts on the recent draft of your song.

"Yeah, yes, honestly, you've helped me so much. I don't know what I'd do without you." You smile and go for a quick hug, taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair. Your fingers sliding between his soft and messy curls and making him fondly smile in the process. "You're my hero. I mean it."

Chan chuckles and can't keep his eyes off you as you type something on your laptop and hum. He recalls the conversation he had last week with Felix, and that ambiguous feeling settling on his chest makes him wonder if, after all, his friend was right. He doesn't remember when was the last time he felt the urge to hold someone in between his arms and dearly appreciate, and he wants to know why he smiles and feels his stomach tickling when he sees you.

Maybe it's because you spend a lot of time with him, a voice inside his head says. But he doesn't feel this way with any other friend.

Maybe it's because you have known him for a long time and you just appreciate him a lot, the voice tries again. Maybe. He finally gives in at the last thought. He'd have to figure it out.

His phone buzzes inside the pocket of his jeans and he takes it, knowing for sure it's a message from Felix.

"Felix is arriving in a few minutes." He murmurs, making you take your eyes off the screen. "He wants to listen to some songs I have, is that okay?"

"Of course, it's your studio, silly." You giggle. "I am almost done with this, so if you're gonna be busy I can go back to m-"

"You can stay, if you want to." He quickly adds. "Plus, he says he wants to see you, you know... He misses you." Chan laughs. He wasn't lying, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted you to stay.

"Okay! Sure, I haven't heard from him in a while, either." You nod and keep making changes on the file you have open.

Just as he said, Felix enters the room just a few minutes later, smiling brightly and immediately running to give you a big hug once he sees you.

Soon, the room was filled with laughter and long conversations to catch up on everything around your lives. Felix tells you about the new pastries he baked last week and that he was waiting for you to come around and bake with him, the new video game Jeongin bought and has been playing with Hyunjin, the new songs Changbin and Jisung have been working on and how Seungmin was learning to play piano, playing songs at night for everyone at the dorm.

"And you know? Chan hyung has gotten better at flirting." He laughs as the latter gives him a threatening glare. "He can't stop saying pickup lines whenever he has the chance."

"Ah, really?" You chortle. "You haven't said one in all the time we've been here."

"Well, we've been working, and I've told you many other jokes... Besides, it's not like I come up with them out of nowhere."

"Yes, you do!" Felix says. "You do that all the time, what are you talking about?"

You glance at Chan, who's currently blushing and at the loss of words. Felix, on the other hand, seems to be happy to see what he just provoked. And he'd definitely enjoy every part of it.

"I want to hear one! C'mooon!" You laugh. "Please?"

Chan rolls his eyes and tries to look confident as he would normally do. He clears his throat and thinks of a good pickup line he hasn't used yet.

"Alright," He says and smiles, he even thinks it's gonna start laughing before even opening his mouth, but the very moment he looks into your eyes, it's like he forgot every single word on his vocabulary. "Uhm, are you, no. Did you-? Wait! I forgot what I was gonna say-"

Felix can't help but burst into laughter, and you only look at him, as if you couldn't believe it. Was he nervous or was it because of the fact that Felix was in the same room? Would it have been any different if he weren't there?

You end up laughing at Felix's loud laughter, as well as seeing Chan blushing up to his ears and hiding his face behind his hands, probably also in an attempt to cover the huge grin he now has.

"Wow, that was an epic failure. And I thought you were the biggest flirt on earth." Felix teases him, to which Chan ends up groaning.

He continues talking about other stuff while Chan stops feeling embarrassed, even though he's not able to look in your eyes for the entire time until you have to go back to work.

You close your laptop and stand up, throwing the now empty cup of coffee on the trash bin. After thanking Chan for his help and promising Felix you'd drop by their dorm soon, you walk out of the studio with a smile and feeling your heart beating fast. There was no way you didn't have feelings for him.

"Oh my god, so I was right!" Felix says a few seconds after you left. Chan's first instinct is to cover his face again. "Look who got nervous so suddenly."

"Stop, I- I don't even want to talk about it." He murmurs, feeling flustered and avoiding Felix's gaze. He types something on his laptop and presses the play button, hoping that this way, his friend would forget about what just happened and could focus solely on the music.

And Felix doesn't talk about it anymore. The next few minutes are set by the music coming out of the speakers; the room filling with Chan's voice, singing the love songs that probably no one else would listen to. Felix seems to be concentrating on the lyrics, but Chan's thoughts are solely about you. As he listens to the songs, he is aware of how his skin bristles every time his hands accidentally touch you, the times when your eyes connect with his and you give him smiles every time it happens, all those times when his heart would race when he hugged you.... It's as if all those songs that professed a love he said he didn't feel, started to make sense.

He feels overwhelmed. Maybe if he was aware of it before, maybe if he listened to his heart instead of his head, this wouldn't be a big revelation to him.

Chan pauses the music, and before Felix can ask what's going on, he speaks up: "Why- why did I do that?"

"Did... what, exactly?" Felix asks, confused.

"The pickup line thing!" He blurts out. "I mean, I do that all the time, right? Why did I just forget how to even talk?"

Felix giggles, "Well, have you considered it's because when you use those pickup lines on us you just do it for laughing? To joke around with us, and with Y/N it's because... I don't know, you have feelings for him and it gets real? Like you're flirting with him."

Makes sense, he thinks. He remains in silence for a moment, processing everything that just happened and finally connecting the dots.

"Wait, you just had your epiphany?" Felix jokes. "It took you too, too long."

"I can barely fall asleep, how was I supposed to know I was falling in love?"

"Fair enough." He says, comprehensive. "Are you telling him?"

"Should I?" Chan's eyes sparkle, but he still feels confused. Should he even try? It's been so long since he last felt this way about someone, and given the circumstances of his life as an idol, he felt more reluctant to take the next step. Even more, considering he had just taken the first one by accepting his feelings a few minutes ago.

"I was right all this time by you being in love," He says. "And I am also sure that it's mutual. I've seen you two for a while, you know? I am surprised you didn't come the realization way earlier than this."

Chan giggles. "Alright, I get it."

"But it's up to you now, I guess. All I know is that you deserve to be happy, and you deserve good things... And Y/N is a great person. You should give yourself an opportunity on love."

Chan feels chills as he hears those words. Tonight's even have been too much for him to process, so he'll think deeply about it later.

"Okay," He nods. "Thanks, Lix. You've been really helpful."

"I know, what would you do without me?" Felix laughs. "Now let's keep listening to the songs, I am loving all of them."

Fortunately, the help Chan gave you really made it possible for you to finish the songs in no time. You are just now walking out of a meeting with your managers and the people in charge of the release of the album to set the final details, and you quickly send a message to Chan to let him know the news.

In the meantime, you drop by your studio to clean up a little and maybe write down some ideas for new songs that have been in your mind for a while. After a few minutes, you hear a knock on the door, snapping you out of your thoughts and then feeling confused. You weren't expecting anyone to come. So you slowly open the door, and a smile spreads across your face the moment you realize it's Chan.

"Oh, hi!" You greet him with a hug, immediately letting him in afterwards. He shyly gets inside, taking a seat on a chair and placing a bag on the small table behind him. "What brings you here? I thought you were still busy with you guys upcoming album."

"It's okay, Changbin is working on his stuff now at the studio, so I took the chance to come here and celebrate with you!" He grins. "Congratulations on making your first self-produced album!"

He starts clapping, making you smile; he truly was the sweetest person you've ever met.

As soon as he read your message he went to the nearby cafeteria and bought your favorite drink and pastries, claiming that it was a special occasion and should be celebrated.

"For all your hard work and the success of this album!" He makes a toast as he raises his cup of tea.

Soon you find yourselves immersed in a long conversation about everything that went into creating this album; from when you had the first idea for the concept, to those sleepless nights when he helped you without hesitation. Chan was definitely an essential part of this whole process, so to be celebrating with him right now felt right. It was how it should be.

"You know," Chan clears his throat as another song starts playing. "These past days I've had this thought in my head, and after talking it out with Felix... I am certain about it. And I want to tell you about it. I know I have to."

You frown, feeling curiosity, especially since his semblance has changed to be a bit more serious. He still has a small smile that gives you some kind of tranquility, but another part of you can't help but feel nervous as he gets a little bit closer.

"Of course, what is it?"

"So, uhm" He starts. "Some weeks ago, when Felix came to the studio and we were talking with you... Well, the reason he came was because he wanted to listen to some love songs I've worked on. And, after listening to all of them I figured out why I didn’t like them. I was sure I wasn't in love. That's why, to me, they all sounded plain and didn’t convey the feeling of love... But then..."

He makes a pause, catching his breath as he feels more and more nervous. He knows for sure his ears and cheeks are red right now, and it's impossible that you haven't noticed it. His hands slightly shake behind the table, anxiously looking for yours, but refraining from doing it because he doesn't know how this was going to end. You don't want to interrupt him, so you give him his time to clear his head and talk again.

"While listening to those songs, the only thought I had in mind was you." He finally confesses, with his gaze now fixed on his lap. "I guess that for a while I didn’t realise that I started to, uhm, catch feelings for you. And, it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me. I just really wanted to let you know because the thought has been on my mind for so long and I needed to let it out."

For a moment, the only thing that can be heard in the room is your voice coming from the speakers along with a sigh from Chan, who still didn’t dare to look up and face you.

"So... what you're saying is..." You speak up, feeling incredibly shy, trying to process the words addressed to you.

"What I am trying to say is that I am in love with you."

And you swear you could start screaming to the top of your lungs right now, but you try your very best to stay calm and finally grab Chan's hands. With that, he looks at you again.

"Channie," You softly say, looking at him in his precious eyes and dearly smiling. You don't even know where to begin, but a voice inside you begs for you to give him a hug. So you open your arms and embrace him tightly, feeling instant comfort and love. "I am so glad you feel this way too. I love you too."

Chan sighs in relief, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer; his nose pressed against the crook of your neck and closes his eyes, melting between your arms and enjoying every single second of that gesture.

"Wait a minute," You say out of nowhere, so he separates a bit from you and tilts his head. "That's why you couldn't even say a sentence when you tried to say a pickup line?"

You laugh when his expression changes to look ashamed, his lips frowned in a pout and his gaze avoiding your eyes again.

"Try again, I'm sure you're good at this." And Chan's head only comes up with the dozens of lines he has read, but seeing you smiling right in front of him and your arms over his shoulders, he can only think how lucky he is. He can't possibly say anything to you. "Alright, let me try instead."

You hum and recall all the pickup lines you've read and have been told before, "Hm, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll return it."

And you expected Chan to start laughing out loud, instead he starts blushing again and giggling, covering his face as he feels nervous.

"C'mon! Seriously?" You laugh and wait for him to stop being shy.

"You make me nervous, give me time." He excuses himself and laughs some more. "That was a good one, and you know what? You can borrow all the kisses you want, as long as you keep your word and return them."

"See? That's what I'm talking about!"

Chan fondly smiles at you, placing his hand on your head to pet your hair for a moment. You close your eyes as he does it, feeling his soft touch traveling all the way down to your chin. He rests his thumb on your cheek and after a few seconds you decide to open your eyes.

"Can I?" He murmurs as his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips.

"You don't even have to ask."

And just as you give him permission, he breaks the distance between you two. He starts carefully, placing his lips against yours in a tender, chaste way, barely there pressure that makes you exhale through your nose as if you had been holding your breath all along. One of his hands still holds you by the waist, so he takes the opportunity to slide it to your lower back, carefully holding you and sending you shivers to your entire body.

You lean forward barely a few millimeters, but it's enough to feel more pressure over your lips. Chan angles his head and traps your bottom lip, tongue trying to dart out of his mouth to taste more of the sweetness of yours. He, however, contains himself and smiles in between the kiss, instead. He was probably gonna be the death of you.

The deep kiss loses intensity as a minute passes by, so you two end up giving smaller kisses and share smiles, your noses constantly touching in skimo kisses. And you think it's perfect; it's way better than what you one day imagined.

Chan can't miss the chance to make you sit on his lap, so now your head rests over his chest. Your fingers fidgeting the hem of his hoodie and shyly longing to intertwine your hands.

"Hey, Y/N?" He grabs your attention and smiles. "Are you a parking ticket?"

You raise an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Because you've got fine written all over you." He ends up with a muffled laughter.

"Oh no, what did I just get myself into?" You joke around, this time finally making him burst into a louder laughter. "You just declared war on me about pickup lines, you know?"

"Oh, so you got some lines, too? Can't wait to hear all of them, then."

And for the rest of the day you let yourself be held in between the arms of the person you loved the most. Later you'd find the way to flirt with him and make him feel flustered when he least expects it.

[oitommothetease]

Long Story Short (3/3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Modern AU)

Description : 

Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you

Word Count : 2.2k words

Warning : fluff, ex Steve, Bucky Barnes my beloved, Just Bucky being an amazing partner

Bucky Barnes does not do relationships. Well, to put it in better words; Bucky Barnes did not do relationships until he met you. As a marriage counselor, he had advised many couples to just get a divorce, and even though he had saved a lot of marriages, the bad ones always hurt him more. To be the person to witness unhappy couples was not the best profession. But again, to be the person to save a marriage or bring back the lost love made his profession the best in his mind.

He did not have hope for a future relationship. He tried dating, it did not work out, and then he became the man who always left after the night and never stayed over. Not only that, but he thought his life would remain the same, and he would become a miserable 60 years old that hated lovesick teenagers and would die in his bed alone.

Bucky’s life changed when he met you on the flight. You, with your obvious shittier life, changed everything for him that weekend. And that was two years ago.

He fell in love and that changed it all, things just started falling into place perfectly like a domino effect going smoothly. He called you the moment you landed and asked you out. Likewise, he was scared that what happened back in his hometown was some sort of escape for you. Luckily, it wasn’t, you said yes and he was ecstatic. 

The date went splendidly, you talked about everything from your careers to your embarrassing high school moments that still sometimes haunt you at night. He told you about his family and he came clean about what went down with Dot (She wanted a relationship, he didn’t and then he bolted). It scared you, Bucky was so different, you’ve never been with someone who didn’t plan everything out, but it was exciting nonetheless. He assured you that he wanted a relationship with you because and let's be honest, he was already very smitten.

He thought that was the best weekend of his life. You proved him wrong, every day with you was the best day of his life.

“This is technically our third date,” you suggested.

He gasped, dramatically placing his hand on his chest. “This is our first date to me and you’re already trying to get in my pants. Give me some respect, lady.”

You laughed, shoving a hand on his arm playfully, and he held your wrist, bringing your body closer to his. He wrapped his other hand around your waist and leaned down to leave a longing kiss on your lips. “ As much as I would love to stay the night. I wanna do right by you, doll.”

You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, foreheads pressed together, before you jokingly said, “FYI, I have already been in your pants before.”

That was the moment Bucky knew you were the one for him. 

***

Alpine fell in love with Bucky quicker than you could. On the fourth date when Bucky finally let you take him home, Alpine came from her hideout in the kitchen and sat on his feet. Alpine never did that with anyone, your friends had told you that you had the most hostile cat ever. Whenever a new person entered your apartment, Alpine either ignored them or attacked them, but with Bucky, she was affectionate.

For you, it wasn’t one moment that made you realize you were in love. Unlike Bucky, you had a lot of issues to deal with before you could give yourself completely to him.

Bucky never judged you, he gave you the time you needed and never pushed you when he was ready to acknowledge he loved you. 

Of course, the insecurities were also present, you’d have urges to go throw his phone or stalk everyone he follows on Instagram. You told Bucky, hoping he doesn’t call you crazy, but instead he gave you his phone’s password. Yes, now your face could unlock his phone too. He told you he trusted you, and you were it for him so if that’s what you needed to be sure, he would happily oblige and wait for you.

It took you six months to finally acknowledge your love for him.

When you were working on a divorce case, the wife told you that when her husband walked into a room, she didn’t feel anything. You got lost in her story and told her how when your boyfriend, your Bucky was nearby you felt calm, lighter even. She smiled and told you she would like to have a love like that. And your mind just went, ‘Holy shit, I am in love with Bucky’. After wrapping up for the day, you immediately rushed towards Bucky’s office, you couldn’t wait to tell him about your recent discovery.

You sat across from him at his office, anxiously fiddling with your finger. “Bucky, I need to tell you something important.”

He looked up from the file on his table and closed it before giving you all of his attention. He always did that which made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Go ahead, doll. I’m all ears.”

 “I... I need to tell you something important.”

He nodded his head, encouraging you to go ahead.

You exhaled and said, “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Bucky studied your features, concern quickly replaced intrigue. This is it, he thought. You’ve realized that he was a rebound and now you were breaking up with him.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

 “I love you.”

You both said at the same time.

“What?” you queried, standing up from your seat and moving towards his chair.

You settled on his lap, cradling him, one of his hands rested on your thigh and the other on your lower back, holding you still on his legs. “What?” 

“I love you,” you confessed, taking his cheeks in your palms and you gently pressed a kiss on his lips.

“Say that again,” a grin spread across his face, the corner of his lips almost reached his ears.

“I love you,” you said, beaming with adoration in your eyes.

“God, doll. I love you so much.”

***

After dating for a year, you decided to move in together. Every day with you had been the happiest day of Bucky’s life. It had been exactly two years since you met Bucky and he was so head over heels for you that sometimes he couldn’t even voice it. Maybe that is why he had a velvet box in his pocket, so that he could express his love for you without gathering the courage to say it.

Both of you decided that for your second anniversary, you were going to have dinner in your shared apartment that you made home. You planned to order take out with movies followed by lovemaking, whereas Bucky planned to make you his fiancé by the end of the night - which was also followed by intense lovemaking.

While on his way home, he stopped to pick up your favorite flavor of the cake. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly picked it up without checking who it was.

“Hey, pal,” Steve’s voice greeted him, taking him by surprise. Bucky hadn’t talked to his best mate since - well, since he found out what he did to you. Bucky was furious that he hurt you like that and made you doubt yourself. The selfish part of Bucky was thankful, not for hurting you, but for leaving you because Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you. And hopefully, after the proposal, he wouldn’t have to.

“Steve,” Bucky said. A silence lingered where both of them could hear the other breathing, but none of them knew what to say, if anything was even left to say. Both of them broke the silence together at the same time.

“Peggy and I are getting a divorce.”

 “I’m going to propose to Y/N.”

 “You what?” Steve asked.

“No, you what?” Bucky countered.

Steve exhaled through the device connecting two old pals and spoke, “Yeah, we tried, but it just didn’t work out. I don’t even know why I went back after the first time. I lost so much by just doing that.”

Both of them were aware of what he was talking about; you. Steve lost you from falling into old patterns with his ex-wife. Steve regretted it. Peggy’s pregnancy wasn’t planned and when she told him, he tied down the knot for the sake of his future family. It took Steve two months to realize that he loved you and not his wife. He didn’t contact you, you asked him not to. The only reason he invited you to his wife’s baby shower was so that he could win you back. He hoped seeing him would make you want him again, but when you walked in with his best friend’s hand in yours, he didn’t know how to react. He had lost you to Bucky of all people and he hated his mate for this, for taking away the best thing in his life. 

“Are you sure about her?” Steve questioned, hoping to raise some doubts and second thoughts in his best pal’s mind. He knew that was wrong, but he desperately wanted you back. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Bucky answered dreamily and Steve could feel his heart crack.

Steve should have stopped, he shouldn’t have relented but Steve wasn’t a good man like you thought he was. Good men don’t cheat on women, good men aren’t selfish. “It's gonna change everything between us, pal. Is she worth it?”

 “Yes.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate in his answer and hung up the phone instantly. He realized quickly that anything that separated him from you or even tried to was not going to be in his life. Bucky was a possessive man and he would die rather than give up his two best girls, you and Alpine.

***

When Bucky came back, you didn’t expect him to kiss you so feverishly, as if he let you go, he’d lose you. He would never lose you, that you were sure of.

Your anniversary went down as you planned. Eating pizza and talking while the movie became a background noise was peaceful, domestic and everything else you desired. You could spend the rest of your life like this. Just you and him — and Alpine, obviously. 

Bucky was hiding something that much you could feel. You both always knew when something was up with the other. A tiny part of your brain panicked that maybe Bucky was cheating on you. He wasn’t; there were no signs, but your brain always mustered up the worst condition as a defense mechanism.

So, when Bucky got down on one knee with a ring in his hand as you were bringing the cake from the kitchen, tears welled up in your eyes. Bucky gently took the cake from you and placed it on your dining table before getting a hold of your hands in his.

“Doll,” he started, and tears were already starting to stream down your face. “ I love you so much that it physically hurts me sometimes. I never thought I would be fortunate enough to be happy, but God, you make me so happy and I can’t even…”

A lump formed in his throat and he tried again, “I had this whole speech planned and now I can’t even get a sentence out without crying. They make it look so easy in those rom coms.”

You chucked, stifling a sob that was threatening to break out. ” Nothing about us has been conventional. I mean, from the way we met to the way I’m proposing, but that is what I like about us. You are already my home, my family, my everything and I would like you to be my wife too. So, Y/N Y/L/N, would you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me? ” 

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” you beamed, holding his palm tightly, supporting him to stand up. He situated the ring on your finger before claiming your lips in his. He kissed you with so much passion and adoration that you felt that even if the earth swallowed you whole at that moment, you still wouldn’t mind. You’ll be glad because you got the opportunity to know and love a man like Bucky. 

After the very anticipated and passionate lovemaking, you settled your head on Bucky’s chest, limbs tangled together, and his arms wrapped around you, igniting you with warmth and love, so much love.

“Alpine is gonna get mad that I took her man,” you remembered, repeating the words you said all those years ago in a hotel room. You did not know where it was going then but God, you wanted it to go somewhere. Somewhere like this, engaged to him.

Bucky chuckled, reminiscing that night and weekend before pulling you closer, placing a kiss on top of your head and promised, “Alpine is not the love of my life, my future wife, my everything, doll. You are.”

TAGS : @ladydmalfoy​ @niffala​  @vicmc624​ @leyannrae​ @priii​

[yourmcu]

V-Day

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary:

You’re not like most people who enjoys Valentine’s Day. Can a certain redhead change that?

A/n: just a late valentine related imagine for all of u bc I’m incapable of posting this sort of stuff on the exact day. enjoy! (I’m finally using this iconic gif don’t mind me)

Word count: 1,753

Warnings: fluff

The 14th of February is just another normal day for you. You always find Valentine’s Day cheesy, you don’t see the point of celebrating it. That sort of thing isn’t as important as Christmas or Halloween. Not that you're bitter because you're single, you couldn’t care less about that, it just isn’t the occasion for you.

Tony outdone it this year. The compound looks like it was powdered pink and red overnight from all the decorations when you step out of your room. You almost don’t want to know what the main area looks like. Sam and Wanda are probably getting started on breakfast which would consist of everything shaped like hearts.

Your plan for the day is to stay in your room, only coming out for snack and drink refills, simple as that.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s...” you pretty much tone out every v-day greeting that came your way, rolling your eyes playfully as you sit down with everyone, greeting them with the usual good morning. You expect the compound to be deserted by midday since surely all of them have plans with their partners for the rest of the day, which is perfect. For you. And for them, of course, yeah.

Sam and Bucky made their way to you. “So, Y/N, how are you?” Sam greets. You already suspect that they were hyping you up for something. “Food good, coffee good... sleep well?”

You turn to them with a smile on your face. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Well,” Bucky lets out a breathy laugh. “Sam here was just helping me-”

“That is not what’s happening. What he wanted to say was,” the birdman cuts him off. “We both wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, we can’t settle on who, so we’re letting you pick.”

You blink. They have to be joking. Do they not notice your routine during this time of the year? After socializing with the team you’d grab a day’s worth of snack, head back to your room, lock the door and lose your mind on video games until the next day.

Unhealthy, but it's for one day.

“Only if you want to,” Bucky adds hastily.

“Come on, this is a chance of a lifetime!” Sam insists, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to your favorite restaurant.”

“It’s just a friendly date.”

What you fail to notice was Natasha listening to the events happening. Her foot taps against the floor as she discreetly waits for your response, taking coffee sips and bites of food and looking away whenever she looked like she's eavesdropping. No one else is paying attention, everyone has their own conversations.

Inside, she pleads that you’d turn both of them down, just because she’s planning to ask you out herself. They just beat her to it.

“I appreciate the thought but I’m sorry, I have plans,” you shrug. “Why don’t you take each other out instead? Not literally.” You give them another smile and walk out of the room, coffee in hand. 

Sam and Bucky nods indicating they understood. Sam tells his friend that if he had more appeal you’d agree to the date. But they take you up on your advice, already planning a guy’s night.

Natasha almost cheers when she hears the first part, only to spiral when she hears that someone had already asked you beforehand. You're unavailable. She could ask you out any day, but you deserve something extra special. She sees this day as her only chance to confess her feelings for you.

Her eyes trail you as you walk out, turning to Wanda when you were out of sight. “Do you have any idea who asked Y/N out?”

“I don’t,” Wanda replies, a bit distracted. “They’re lucky, I’ve never seen Y/N show interest in anyone since I met her. Anyway, I have to go, Vision and I have a whole day planned...”

Natasha huffs while people slowly file out of the kitchen. As far as she knows, Tony's with Pepper, of course, Wanda and Vision, Steve is probably going to join Sam and Bucky on their night out, and Clint is back at his farm celebrating with his wife.

And you’re with that person, which most likely someone who isn’t on the team otherwise she’d know. She's left by herself to mope.

-

Few hours have passed, maybe three, it’s lunchtime. As you suspected the compound is empty, so you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Boxed mac and cheese is the only thing you knew how to make.

“Y/N?”

You almost drop your stirring spoon at the sudden voice. You feel embarrassed about your choice of outfit, you feel and look like a grizzly bear while she looks stunning, even if it’s just plain workout clothes.

“Hey, Nat.”

“I thought you were... out with someone?” Knowing you, she might’ve misunderstood when you said you ‘had plans’. You look so cozy she would love to hug you on the spot if she isn’t so sweaty.

You let out a curious hum, turning off the stove. “I was?” You giggle. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I didn’t, just, I assumed you’d be,” she mutters and finishes her water bottle. 

You're now grabbing a bowl for the mac and cheese you made. “I mean, Sam and Bucky did ask me if I wanted to but... y’know, if I’m being honest they’re not really my type.” You pause to look at her who was staring back. “Have you eaten? This batch I made is enough for three people, I think.”

Natasha nods at your offer. “They did say it was a friendly date.”

You stop scooping the macaroni and perk your head up with a grin. “So you were listening.”

“Not like I had any choice, I was in the same room.” Quick save.

“Mmhm.” 

Then there's  a minute of comfy silence as you clean the area you made the meal on, putting the pot away and stuff.

“Why don’t you have a date today?”

“What?”

“Anyone would kill to go on a date with you, Nat.” Is what you say in your head. But instead you say, “Well, you know, I didn’t expect you be here too.”

Natasha shrugs and before she could answer you add, “No one’s caught the notorious Black Widow’s attention yet?”

She chuckles at your words, looking up at you. “Who did you think I’d go out with?”

“I dunno, Steve-”

“God, no,” she quickly cuts you off and laugh,  you laugh along but at the same time sigh in relief.

“Crap, I just remembered I have a game to finish,” you hold the bowl of cheese and macaroni and stick two spoons on the side. “I’m cordially inviting you to my room, you are very much welcome, after you change.”

Natasha tells you she’ll see you there in a bit.

-

“Huh. I just noticed you do this every Valentine’s Day,” Natasha notes as she takes everything in. Your PlayStation's on, your trash bin is almost full of snack wrappings, couple of beers tucked at the side of your bed. “Cozy.”

“Why, thank you,” you say sarcastically, picking up a controller and waving a vacant one at her. “Feel free. Or you can just watch me fail at this game.”

Natasha decides to join the game a little later, now she's lost in thought on how someone like you spends such a day like this, or how beautiful you looked as your eyes dart at every direction of the screen and how you sometimes bite your lip when you're that focused in the game.

It's always the little things she likes about you.

Glancing at you one more time before eating a spoonful of mac, she turns back to the TV to watch how you're doing.

But you're witty, kind and easy to get along with, why wouldn’t you have a date - or why wouldn’t you want a date on Valentine’s Day?

If only you knew how she feels, she’d make sure to treat you well. Like you deserve. She’d take you on dates you’d enjoy every time the 14th rolls by. If you don’t like the holiday for some reason she’d find a way-

“NO WAY,” you cover your mouth and bump your head to Natasha’s shoulder in defeat, making her come back from her trance to look at the big red words on the screen, indicating you lost. “I almost had it!”

Natasha leans into your touch and pats your back. “You can try again.”

You groan. “I definitely will but for now, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Great,” she shifts a bit to get comfy, switching to Netflix and choosing whatever’s trending right now. “I’m just curious but, do you like someone?”

You hum in response, sipping on a beer, not completely processing what she said. “I - yeah. I guess so,” you tug the blanket closer and pout at the movie that’s on. You don’t like romance movies. You always prefer an action or a mystery one any day. “Do you?”

Natasha feels her heart ache for a moment. “Yeah. She’s kind and sweet, goofy but can still seriously kick your ass type.” Your eyes land to her hands. You knew fully well Natasha isn’t straight, she admitted and definitely doesn’t act like it. “There’s just something about her that makes me... love her.”

“She sounds great,” you mumble, starting to get lost in your own thoughts. “I guess I just-” you hesitate, just because the woman you're about to describe is the same one sitting next to you. “I feel bad for her that someone like me likes her.”

“Why would you think that?” Natasha chuckles, shaking her head.

You shrug. “She’s amazing. So out of my league, I’d say she’s so close but so far away but that would be really cheesy and ugly,” you laugh. “I don’t know, she deserves way better.”

Natasha hums. “Sometimes I think she needs to her worth, because what she doesn’t know is, she’s very much amazing in her own way.”

Looking up at her from her shoulder, your eyes light up and you don’t know when it happened, but you just found her lips pressed against yours softly.

Even if it was just a short kiss you feel breathless when she pulls away to look at you again.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re just describing each other like idiots right?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha leans in to kiss you again.

---

oh my god I want a hug

[shameless plug] check out my natasha romanoff ambience here

[merakiaes]

In The Heat Of The Moment - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @forgottenword​

Prompts: #3 from the common trope-list. 

Warnings/notes: Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, kids. I’m extremely bad at writing smut so I apologize in advance for the shitty quality😩 I want to stress that my smut requests are CLOSED, this was an only exception because I liked the concept, so please don’t send in smut requests because hey will be deleted. This turned out a lot longer than I planned but oh well. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Thank you <3 NOT PROOFREAD

Wordcount: 7175

Summary: When having a fever and being caught in the rain, you’re bound to be freezing and in need of heat. And what better way to get warmed up than by sharing a bed with your boss? 

You and Aaron Hotchner had never gotten along as well as co-workers should in your line of work. You were great agents, great people, when you were separated. But when you were together… Well, let’s just say that it was never a pretty sight.

You had joined the BAU around the same time and despite only being beginners back then, you were both great at what you did. But putting you together on your first job was everything but a match made in heaven.

You were a bit younger than him and you were used to being criticized by men your entire life, so when working with Hotch turned out to be no different, you became competitive and determined to show your worth to him and your fellow agents.

You could easily just shoot your enemy if you ever felt threatened in the field, but when it came to Hotch, your co-worker, your only line of defense was your quick-witted sarcasm.

In Hotch’s eyes, you behaved like a child from the start and he wanted nothing more than to just have you transferred, but the longer you worked together, the more used to it he got.

He still didn’t like it though, not one bit, but it was bearable back when you’d had Gideon to step in and calmly settle your differences whenever those popped up. Which, let’s be honest, was often.

But now he was gone and Hotch had stepped up to take the leading position, and even though you hadn’t been interested in that position, yourself, you hated that he now had the higher ground and the perfect shot to make your life a living hell just like you had, knowingly, made his.

If you wanted to go to the crime scene, he sent you to question potential witnesses. If you wanted to question potential witnesses, he sent you to the crime scene. If you specifically asked to do something, he made you do the exact opposite and if you specifically asked not to do something, that’s exactly what he forced you to do. And now that he was your superior rather than your equal, you were in no place to argue, no matter how much you wanted to.

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you hated each other; you respected him and he respected you, but you just couldn’t stand each other and the way the two of you always seemed to criticize the other’s capability of getting the job done.

He always underestimated you and condescendingly shook his head at your every move, and you just couldn’t help but run your mouth about how he did everything wrong when you were with him.

It could be amusing to see you bicker, to say the least, but eventually, the team was starting to get tired of the way your disagreements and inability to work together was constantly threatening to ruin the case, so they were more than relieved when, finally, the two of you were beginning to settle down.

When Haley filed for a divorce, you were the only one on the team who didn’t change your entire persona. While the others walked on eggshells around him, always afraid to say the wrong thing and make him snap, you remained your usual big-mouthed, snarky self, never letting him catch a break.

Up until then, you had never been anything other than a major pain in his ass, but under these circumstances, the fact that you didn’t go out of your way to feel sorry for him provided a kind of security for him.

You approached him about it once after a case on which he had shown himself more agitated and reckless than usual, telling him that he could talk to you if he wanted to, but after that, you just left him alone to deal with everything the way he wanted to.

Knowing he had the support but also being given the choice to choose on his own rather than having the support forced upon him was just what he needed and in your own, dysfunctional way, you grew closer because of it.

He started to willingly take you along during cases while he sent the others to deal with other aspects, as opposed to the past where the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with just you, knowing you’d find some way to go against his wishes just to spite him.

He’d always known that you were a great person and an even greater agent and profiler, even though he would never admit it out loud, but it was only after his divorce that he really came to see you in a different light.

However, despite his newfound fondness of you, there were still rules to be followed; ones he, as a leader, could not look past if broken.

One of the most important rules were that you couldn’t get attached or emotionally involved in a case. Being able to remain objective was of the utmost importance in order to not risk jeopardizing the entire investigation and this specifically, you’d never had a problem with.

You felt for the families and victims of course, but you knew that in order to do your job, you had to close yourself off to the grief they were feeling. Struggling with this was more common for the others on the team, but you did alright.

But then there was the rule that emphasized the importance of staying at home or at least in the office if you ever happened to get sick, and the most important rule, at least for you, not to lie or go against your boss’s orders. And you had broken both of them.

It had started out with a light cough and a runny nose; nothing too alarming seeing as it could easily pass for allergies, which just so happened to be the excuse you used when confronted about it.

Eventually the cough disappeared and your nose dried up, leading you to believe that the excuse you had been telling everyone for three days straight could actually be the truth, but then came the fever, out of nowhere in the middle of the night.

You laid awake trembling and sweating through your sheets both at the same time, and yet, you pulled your ass out of bed the next morning and got to work, completely ignoring the fact that you were obviously not well.

And as was only natural, the light fever got worse and brought several other complications with it as you kept pushing yourself in the field. You became short of breath easier and your ears started hurting, bringing back the terrible memories from your childhood back when you’d get the worst ear infections on a frequent basis for years.

But you’d just been invited into a new case, one that took longer than they usually did and one that you just so happened to get attached to, against your better judgement. You kept getting sicker and you tried your hardest to hide it, because you just couldn’t leave your team in those desperate times.

You were also, as you always had been, too stubborn to admit the fact that you needed help and rest, and so you sucked it up and pretended that you were fine, something that seemed to go unnoticed as the others were just as caught up in the job and determined to get to the bottom of the case as you were.

And you did, get to the bottom of it, as you always did. You solved the case, identified and tracked down the unsub and went in for the arrest.

Hotch and Prentiss went around the back and you and Reid went in through the house while Morgan and Rossi stood by the police cars, waiting for Hotch’s orders to come in.

You and Reid were the ones to find the man first, catching him off-guard and holding him at gunpoint until Hotch and Prentiss appeared from the back and handcuffed him.

You were able to complete the arrest and save the hostage before anything could happen to her, and luckily, the state you were in hadn’t affected the case nor your ability to work.

But once everything was safe, you subconsciously let down the façade you had been putting on for the past few days and as you walked out of the house, a sudden wave of dizziness hit you and sent you falling to the ground before you had even reached the cars.

Morgan, having had his eyes on you when you walked out, was the first one to witness it and rushed to your side, alerting your fellow team members. By then, you were knocked out cold from the exhaustion and as the medics at the scene rushed up, they noted aloud that you had a very high fever and had to get to the hospital.

You were rushed there in the ambulance that had originally been for the hostage should she have needed to be treated, and as you laid unconscious, Hotch sat by your side, glaring at you despite the fact that you couldn’t even see it.

Luckily, your carelessness hadn’t come in the way of the case as you hadn’t hit rock bottom until it was all over, but in a worst case scenario it could’ve affected your ability to properly do your job which was exactly why the rules said you couldn’t work when sick.

But despite the fact that everything had worked out, you had gone against the rules by hiding your sickness and working despite it, which was the sole reason of your sudden collapse and also the reason that Hotch was now forced to drive all the way back to Quantico as the doctor hadn’t cleared you for flying with your ear infection, and it was safe to say that he was not happy about it.

“You put the entire team in danger today.” He spoke for the first time since you had sat down in the car, in which you had been seated for the past forty minutes.

Forty, painfully slow minutes of thick and tense silence, both of you just waiting in dread for the argument that was sure to come.

But even then, now that the silence had been broken, you didn’t feel any better.

“I know.” You replied simply from where you sat beside him in the passenger seat.

You stared out the window lazily, slumped in your seat and breathing slowly, each breath fogging up the glass and dimming the view of the darkening sky outside.

Your ears picked up on the sound of crunching leather, no doubt being caused by Hotch’s grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Is that all you have to say?” He asked bitterly. Annoyance was radiating off of him and the tone in his voice only made its existence more evident.

An unintentional sigh of exhaustion left your lips and for the first time, you dared to turn your head to look at him. “What do you want me to do?” You asked. “I made a mistake and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” He wasted no time in answering, not even bothering to look at you, and this time you could see with your own eyes how his grip on the wheel hardened, his knuckles turning white.

You turned your attention back to the window and let out another long breath through your nose, but Hotch was nowhere near finished.

“What if your fever had caused you to black out in the middle of the arrest? You could’ve been ambushed from behind, too weak to fight back, and died. Reid would’ve been on his own, without backup, and could’ve died.”

Once again you turned your head to look at him, your face wiped free of emotion as you stared into his side profile.

“It’s of the utmost importance that we’re always on top of our game. We can not afford to take chances like these. You can’t-“ He sighed, sparing you the briefest of glances. “You can’t lie to me, to us, about the state of your health. By doing so, not only are you endangering yourself, but you’re endangering us all. The team, and the hostages. I won’t be able to look past this, my hands will be tied of it comes down to an evaluation.”

He wanted you to feel guilty and you understood, because you knew that you had been stupid and reckless and that you had behaved inappropriately and done what you just couldn’t do in this line of work. But no matter how deep and thick the guilt settled in the pit of your stomach, you knew his threats of ‘not being able to look past it’ were empty.

After all, he had done the exact same thing on more than one occasion since the divorce; gotten so indulged in the case at hand that he had recklessly and inappropriately broken protocol, because of which he had taken a lot of heat lately.

But still, the string you were still holding on to, the string of getting to keep your job, was short and weak, and the only thing keeping you quiet, something Hotch was taking full advantage of.

He kept scolding you for at least five more minutes, but you weren’t listening to any of it, too distracted by the painful pressure in your ears and completely out of it, barely even able to hang on to reality in your disoriented and feverish state.

The heat in the car was cranked up to the max, and yet you were shivering in your seat, shrinking back into your thin sweater as far as you could in a desperate attempt to preserve your bodily heat.

But no matter how hot your skin was to the touch, you were freezing, and it wasn’t until the weather outside took a complete three-sixty turn, forcing Hotch to put his disapproving scolding on hold in order to concentrate on not driving you into a ditch in the blinding rain, that he took the time to take note of your state.

In any other case you would’ve been all too aware of his eyes on you, but right now, you could barely even stay awake.

The pain in your ears was for the most part gone for the moment, but the fever only seemed to have gotten worse, and it showed in more ways than one. And it was in the way you had barely said a word to him, which was a near never-occurring thing, that Hotch realized that you really weren’t well.

An unsure silence fell as a blanket over the car for a moment as his eyes kept flickering back and forth between the road and you, where you were barely able to keep your own eyes open.

“Are you alright?” He finally questioned and he waited for a long moment for you to answer, and when he got none, he cautiously moved his hand out to touch your knee. “(Y/N).”

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped around to face him at the sound of your name and the feeling of his hand on your leg. “Hm?” You asked in an absent manner, instantly regretting your hasty movements when your head started throbbing.

“Are you alright?” He repeated, eyebrows creasing in worry when you raised your hand to your forehead and closed your eyes.

You took a steady breath, trying to calm your spinning head, before carefully shaking it. “No.”

“Are you ears hurting?”

“My head.” You took another breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the painful jabbing at the side of your head, feeling them sting like they would when you’d spent hours upon hours crying.

Hotch watched from the side as you rubbed your forehead and temples, taking note of how hard you were squeezing your eyes shut and how badly you were shivering. Slowly but surely, he felt the anger he had previously been feeling melting off.

He said nothing else, giving your sullen face a last glance before turning his attention back to the road in front of him. But his hand didn’t move, remaining at your knee where his thumb rubbed soft, absentminded circles as an attempt to offer you some comfort.

For a second it made your heart flutter like never before, but soon enough, you’d forgotten all about it, only being able to focus on how incredibly shitty you were feeling. Not only physically, but mentally too, because Hotch had been right about everything he had said.

You were sweating like crazy, feeling trapped in the car where you couldn’t escape your thoughts and the guilt that was getting bigger by the minute, and you wanted nothing more than to get out and breathe some fresh air.

So when Hotch stopped at a gas station to fill up the tank and get some water and painkillers for your head, you did just that, not even being able to process the fact that the rain was still pouring down until it was too late.

You stood with your back leaned against the car, hugging yourself tightly and shivering even more than before as your clothes were now soaked, but the crisp air felt nice and was a blessing for your aching head.

Hotch came out of the gas station three minutes later and spotted you immediately, wasting no time in breaking into a run in your direction.

“What are you doing?! You’re already sick!” He yelled over the sound of rain harshly colliding into the exterior of the car.

You didn’t have the energy to fight back, simply continuing to rub your forehead. “I’m sorry, it was so stuffed in there, I needed to get out.” You mumbled silently, and he sighed, walking around you to open your car door.

“Get back in the car.” He ordered, and you did as told, allowing him to help you inside and waiting for him to close the door behind you before leaning against it.

He quickly got in in the driver’s seat and wasted no time in starting the car and cranking the heat up the little way further that was possible, throwing the bottle of water and packet of painkillers into the backseat.

“You’re shaking, we need to get you dry and warm.” He said as he fuzzed over you, silently urging you to take off your outer layer and helping you do so.

He drove out of the gas station once you were properly situated again, holding your hands in his in an attempt to warm them up.

You drove for a while longer and soon enough, Hotch took a right and parked the car. But you were half asleep and completely out of it, barely even able to process that he’d left you until the door you were leaning against opened, causing you to fall right into his chest and forcing you awake.

“Here, take this.” He wasted no time in draping you in a thick, scratchy blanket that you’d never seen before.

Nevertheless, you didn’t protest, getting out of the car and staying glued to his side as he walked you in the direction of the hotel you were now apparently parked in front of.

Once you reached the door to the room you guessed he’d fixed you for the night, he unlocked the door, ushered you inside and locked the door behind you.

Out of pure instinct, your hand moved to the light switch right next to the front door, only to discover that the power was out.

You were still dizzy, your skin burning hot but freezing to your core, but you were awake now, and all you wanted was a hot shower, so your second instinct was to head into the bathroom to test the water, and just your luck, the hot water was gone, as well.

Shivering, you turned back to face the entirety of the room, the only light in sight being the light of the moon streaming in through the windows and Hotch’s phone as he used it to find his way around.

“There’s no hot water.” You deadpanned, hugging yourself close and standing still in the middle of the room.

“The power is out and there’s a flood down the road, the woman at the counter said it could take a while for it to return so we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got in the meanwhile and get you out of your wet clothes.” Hotch wasted no time in replying as he busied himself with un-making one of the two beds.

He didn’t even spare you as much as a glance but you watched him for a moment longer, taking in his hurried movements as he ripped the blankets of the bed you presumed would be his, instead placing them on the bed with your name on it.

You knew he could feel your eyes on him, but when he didn’t turn around, you let out a breath through your nose and uncrossed your arms from over your chest, instead beginning to undress yourself.

And let me tell you, that’s not an easy task when you’re shivering like a chihuahua and have an a hundred and three degree fever and the current strength of an infant.

Your arms were heavy, almost too heavy to lift, and your fingers trembled when you began working on the buttons of your shirt. You tried your hardest to see what you were doing but the lack of light in the room made it hard, and the more you strained your eyes, the more intense your headache and dizziness got.

By now, Hotch had finished setting up your bed and turned around to see you struggling, taking a few small steps in your direction.

“Do you need help?” He asked, and you dropped your hands to your sides.

“Yeah.”

He walked up to you and wasted no time in getting to work on your buttons. You watched his face the entire time, even in your feverish daze being able to pick up on how hard he was trying to focus his eyes on his fingers in a respectful manner.

Once the last button came undone, you turned around and allowed him to pull the article of clothing off your body, the snug fabric releasing a creaking sound as it was pulled off your wet skin.

Hotch wordlessly walked over to the desk placed in the room and hung the shirt over the back of a chair, while you went to work on your pants.

Luckily, this piece of clothing only had one button and you managed to get it undone without too much trouble, sitting down on your bed and pulling them off – this part taking a bit more struggle seeing as they were stuck to your skin just like the shirt had been.

But you managed and wasted no time in crawling under the multitude of blankets that Hotch had neatly piled up on the bed, tucking yourself in as tightly as possible and pulling them up to your nose in an attempt to fill the inside of the cocoon with warm air.

It worked to an extent, your skin quickly regaining its previous heat and feeling so hot to the touch that one could’ve easily thought that you were on the verge of burning up.

But it did nothing to warm your core, and no matter how hard you tried keeping the shivers at bay by relaxing your body and keeping your breaths steady, it was to no use.

You laid there in silence for a good moment, becoming unaware of your surroundings once again, including the pair of eyes burning into the side of your face from across the room.

Hotch watched you closely while he followed his own advice and discarded his wet shirt, unbuckling his belt, hanging it on a chair and kicking off his shoes and socks.

Dressed now only in his damp slacks, he moved to grab the bottle of water and painkillers that he’d gotten from the gas station, and continued to the side of your bed, where he crouched down in front of you.

“Take this.” He instructed and you opened your eyes, pushing yourself up with all your might so that you could take the outstretched items from his hand.

You swallowed the pill with two gulps of water and fell right back into bed once he had taken the bottle back, pulling the blankets up to your nose again.

He stood back up to his full height and as a strong shiver went down your spine, the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“I need more heat, this isn’t enough. You’ll have to lay with me.”

Hotch’s face pulled into one of mild surprise at the sound of your unexpected words, and he instantly started protesting. “I don’t think-“

But you interrupted, staring up at him with those angry eyes that he so often found himself at the receiving end of. “I’m freezing my ass off and you’re cold, too. I’m not about to let you sleep without blankets. It’s just until the power and hot water comes back.”

He stared back at you, face ever so stoic. “Fine.” He gave in, and only then did you soften your glare.

You closed your eyes as he began removing his pants, slowly scooting back on the bed to make room for him, and you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief when he lifted the covers and slid in next to you.

Your skin was hot with fever but somehow, his was even hotter, burning you to the touch.

You were still freezing, but as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, you instantly found it easier to relax, your shivering toning down a great deal.

Out of pure instinct, you snuggled further into his chest and you could feel on the stiffness of his body that he was uncomfortable and unsure of how to react in the situation you’d so inconveniently found yourself in.

Opening your eyes as far as your heavy eyelids would let you, you found him to be staring up into the roof. But the second he felt your heavy gaze on him, he turned his head to the side to meet your eyes.

Heat flushed through your entire body and you had been aroused enough times to recognize the feeling.

You knew all of this had started off innocent, a person simply trying to warm up another person as an act of kindness and basic human decency, and you never would’ve had these impure thoughts about him in any other situation, but your body was reacting on its own to the feeling of his skin against yours, and so was his.

Your faces were close to each other, mere inches apart, and before you were able to stop yourself, you leaned in closer and brushed your lips against his.

He retaliated immediately, pulling back and looking down at you with an unreadable expression written all over his face.

He told himself that the fever was making you confused and disoriented, but when you moved back in for a second attempt, this time with a lot more clarity in your eyes and confidence in your movements, he didn’t pull back.

You remained still for the entirety of the kiss, your lips just pressed against each other’s with little to no extended movements. When you came apart again, your breaths were heavy but the sound of your heart beating loudly in your ears was the only thing you could hear.

You stared into each other’s eyes and your eyes momentarily fluttered shut when he brought his hand up and grazed your lower lip with his thumb.

And then his lips were on yours again, and this time you just kept going.

His hands cradled your face and you laid down flat on your back, wrapping your arms around his neck and opening your legs to allow him to move on top of you. You pulled him impossibly close, a surge of sudden energy bursting through your entire body.

He was a gentleman at heart but he didn’t bother asking you if you were sure, knowing better than anyone that you were more than capable of telling him if you weren’t. You were both adults, you knew exactly what you were doing.

You’d had your fair share of rendezvouses throughout your life, but none had left you feeling like this.

Passion, desperation, fervor, urgency, impatience, hunger, eagerness, and every single other synonym that could be used to describe the lustful attraction between two people were currently battling in your body.

But more present than any other feeling was the anger; anger directed at you, fueled by the way you had put yourself and your entire team at risk by lying about the state of your health, and anger directed at him, fueled by the way he had always underestimated you and doubted your abilities.

You were both furious in all ways possible and neither of you had any plans on stopping, his hands already making their way down your body and heading straight for the direction of the place where you needed him the most.

His hands were warm but yours were cold, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they traveled his arms, chest, shoulders and neck.

One of your hands stayed at his neck, tracing light touches over his throat and jaw, while the other one moved down the length of your own body to meet with his where it was hovering above the line of your underwear.

You grabbed a hold of it and pushed his palm flat against the bottom of your stomach, urging him to continue, and he didn’t waste a second, dipping his hand inside the waistband of the thin fabric that was still wet from the rain and resting uncomfortably against your skin.

Breath getting caught in your throat and heart palpitating in your chest, you pushed your head back into the pillow, your eyes falling shut at the pleasurable feeling of his fingers finding your core, your lips coming apart in the process.

Instead, his face bent down and nuzzled the crook of your neck, lips leaving slow kisses behind as he adjusted his hand.

It obviously wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d like though, the wet fabric getting caught on his skin and causing a frustrated sound to escape his throat.

“These need to go.” He mumbled into the skin of your shoulder and you eagerly nodded, completely ignoring the headache that was still going strong.

You raised your hips to allow him access, and he wasted no time in pushing the underwear off your legs, leaving you to shake them off your feet.

They got lost somewhere underneath the numerous blankets but you couldn’t care less, your hands hurrying down to the waistband of his boxers.

He drew in a breath at the feeling of your icy cold fingers, but made no move to stop you, helping you in ridding himself of the only remaining clothing he had on and then moving on to unclasp your bra, carelessly throwing it onto the floor and latching his lips back onto yours.

His hand returned to your heat and just like he had done mere seconds before, you sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers dipped in, running a line up your folds before pushing their way inside.

He hooked his finger down into your entrance to gather some of your wetness, bringing it up all the way along your slit and stopping only when he reached the sensitive bundle of nerves that was just throbbing with need.

That’s when the first moan of many to come left your lips, being muffled into the kiss and your stomach exploding with butterflies.

But just like with any other aspect of your life, you were impatient, so when he pushed a finger inside of you, you broke free of the kiss and shook your head, reaching your hand down to stop him by his wrist.

“No, you’re going too slow.” You panted, pulling his hand away and looking into his darkened eyes. “I need you, now.”

Your voice thinned into a whisper toward the end and you brought your hands back up to his face.

He remained still for a few seconds, just looking at you with his usual stoic expression and pursed lips, but the soon dipped down to meet your face again, brushing his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel it, before pressing down with more force.

What started off as a close-mothed kiss quickly turned into an open-mouthed one, and you moved down on the mattress, raising your legs to wrap them around his waist as he positioned himself at your entrance.

He wasn’t fully erected yet, as was to be expected seeing as you had barely touched him and things had moved so quickly, but the second he was fully sheathed inside of you, that changed in an instant.

The feeling of being filled so perfectly caused your face to screw up in pleasure and he couldn’t help but let a small groan slip past his lips, really showing how long it had been since he last partook in sexual activities.

But he wasn’t the only one who had gone untouched for a long period of time. When you worked a job as stressful and time-consuming as yours, it was hard to find enough spare time to get out and meet any potential lovers, so it was safe to say that it had been just as long for you as it had for him and it didn’t take long for you to let out a moan to match his own.

He wasted no time in starting to move, encouraged to do so by the way your legs tightened around his hips to pull him in deeper.

You clung to him with all your might as he slowly but surely picked up his pace and found a good rhythm, squeezing your eyes shut and being reminded of the fever you still had when feeling the brims of your eyes sting.

Your hands moved to grasp at the back of his head and you pressed your lips against his, baiting a groan from his throat when tightening your grip on the strands of raven hair you held between your fingers.

His movements were confident and his lips moved skillfully from yours to your jaw, down to your neck before settling in the crook of your neck.

One of his hands moved from the mattress to hold on to the headboard of the bed and his toned arm flexing and unflexing right over your face was without a doubt the most attractive sight you’d ever seen.

“Hotch...” You moaned out between thrusts, and he grumbled in return.

“Aaron.” He corrected you darkly, and you drew in a gasp of air at the sound.

“Aaron-” You began repeating, but was quickly cut off by your own moan and after that, no more words were spoken.

The heavy breaths he released in the crook between your neck and shoulder only added to the already existing dampness on your skin, courtesy of the fever that you had almost forgotten was still there, and it was only now that the heat that had previously been restricted to the outer layer of your skin caught up with the rest of your body and made its way into your core.

The only sounds that could be heard was the heavy rain smattering on the metal ceiling outside your room, mixing in with the pants and low moans and groans escaping your lips, the creaking of the headboard that Hotch was holding on to for dear life, and the slapping of skin on skin.

He didn’t slow down once and not as much as a word was spoken, every emotion and feeling instead being voiced in sounds of pleasure and the occasional kiss when he brought his head up from your neck for air.

You got completely lost in the pleasure and you had no idea how long you went on for, but soon enough, you were beginning to get sore, the pleasure starting to switch into a mild discomfort.

But as if right on cue, the guttural groans muffling into your damp skin became more frequent, and before you knew it, Hotch’s entire body tensed up as he reached his climax and released inside of you.  

But you weren’t quite there yet, never having been able to orgasm just by penetration.

You didn’t know how he was able to do both at the same time, but as he rode out his high, Hotch brought his hand down from the headboard and in between your bodies at the same time, heading right for the throbbing bundle of nerves where he wasted no time in getting to work.

That was the final touch you needed for your stomach to begin to turn. The combination of the way he was hitting the perfect spot over and over again and his thumb showing no mercy was so intense that you reached your high in no time.

You pressed your face into his neck just like he was doing yours, your fingers tugging on his hair so harshly that you probably crossed the line between pleasurable and painful. But he didn’t make note on it, picking up his pace as a string of curses left your lips, blending with your moans and mixing with his name, something he was clearly liking the sound of.

And just as you toppled of the edge, bright flashes flashing on the inside of your eyelids as your entire stomach pulled into a tight knot, the lights in the ceiling of the room flashed as well, the radiator over by the window buzzing to life as the power returned.

Talk about timing.

He kept on pumping into you with sloppy, lazy thrusts as you rode out your high and as soon as he felt you relax around him again, his entire body slumped against yours in a moment of exhaustion.

You laid limp, chest rising and falling in quick pants as you caught your breath. His hand moved up to hold himself upright by the head of the bed and your hands remained at the back of his neck, fingers gently pulling through his hair that was now damp with sweat.

After a moment of silence, he moved off of you, allowing you to properly breathe.

“How’s your head?” He asked.

His voice was strained and it was clear that now that the arousal was gone and everything was over and done with, neither of you had any idea of how to act.

Pulling one of the blankets up to your shoulders and holding it in place over you previously exposed chest, you cleared your throat.

“All good.” You replied breathlessly and just then, reality came crashing back down, an involuntary shiver going down your spine and rocking your entire body as it became aware of the chilliness of the air around you.  

He caught on to this at once and turned his head to look at you with a deadpanned expression. “You’re still shivering, you should go take a warm shower before you go to sleep.”

His words brought a small snort from your lips. “I’m not shivering, I’m trembling. There’s a difference.” You answered, raising an eyebrow. “But I won’t say no to a shower.” You sighed, and as you wasted no time in beginning to get out of the bed, Hotch averted his eyes to the roof to give you some privacy.

The cold air hit you like a train when you removed the blankets from your body, your shivers becoming worse now with the layer of drying sweat on your skin.

It wasn’t until you stood up that the fever came crashing down on you with full force again, a spell of hot dizziness taking over you. You had to hold on to the wall beside the bed to regain your composure and once you did, you began walking, only then realizing how sore you really were.

As quickly as your quivering legs would take you, you walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light in the ceiling before heading straight for the shower.

As you turned on the faucet this time, you were pleased to discovered that the hot water had returned along with the power, and you closed your eyes in satisfaction even when the water had yet to touch any other part of your body than your fingers.

You remained standing there for a moment, holding yourself upright by the sink while waiting for the water to reach the perfect temperature.

You then brought your hand back to yourself and turned back around as you let the water run behind you.

Hotch was still in your bed, now having moved into a sitting position and absentmindedly fiddling with the watch on his wrist, seeming to be deep in thought.

And you were a profiler. You could tell with no struggle at all what was bothering him; guilt, most likely directed toward Haley as he had just been with another woman for the first time since the divorce.

The fact made you feel all kinds of feelings, and you slowly walked back to the doorway, on which you leaned as you continued watching him from a distance.

“I’m still really cold, you know.” You commented lamely, hoping that he’d take the hint on what you were trying to say.

His head slowly turned in your direction, his eyes tired and lips pulled into a straight line. His eyes wandered your still naked form for the briefest of second, but he quickly caught himself and averted them to yours.

“I thought you said you weren’t cold anymore.” He answered in a monotone voice, and you raised your eyebrows in return.

“Did I? I don’t think I did.” You played, absentmindedly tapping your fingers against the wooden doorframe.

He stared at you for a second, not seeming to care about you in the slightest anymore. But tthe way his lips then pulled into a small smile when looking at you showed you that he did, in fact, catch on to your intent.

And when he wordlessly got out of bed and started walking in your direction, leading you into the shower with a featherlight touch to the small of your back, you knew for a fact that the moment of passion you had just shared had been much more than just an act executed in the heat of the moment.

But if you thought that you were off the hook regarding your irresponsible behavior during the case just because you now happened to have your boss wrapped around your finger, you had another thing coming.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​ @rousethemouse​

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

[cheelduh]

How to tie up a cute boy

(Highschool Au)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Parts: 1  2  3

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Scaramouche abuse, no Signora slander this time, shit humour.

Synopsis: "Why are you doing homework?" Childe groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

Note: Unedited yet again besties. Tysm for reading :) I got Childe after losing him to mf MONA, istg it was the most stressful moment of my life.

The clock ticks with its pendulum, ridiculing you as it holds the time. The gentle whirring of the air conditioning in the background serves as the icing on the cake to your pent up aggression.

You try not to glare at your phone too much after receiving a text from Childe that told you not to worry, that his dad picked him up and that he was in the comfort of his home, letting the flu blow over.

It took a lot of convincing from his part earlier that morning to get you to go back and actually attend the rest of your classes, making sure to check up on him every break plus the additional "bathroom breaks" you usually never take while in class.

"I can't let you get in trouble for me." He murmured with a small smile that pumped your blood a little faster than usual. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry your pretty little head."

You do exactly that.

You don't even know why you're so worried. He's sick, not dying. Not to mention, you aren't even his girlfriend let alone his friend to care so much. 

Your intrusive thoughts don't waste any time. You latch onto the one thought that takes over. He's probably dead. Lying in his bed in a heap of pillows, passing peacefully while his parents are in the other room. He's dead.

Okay, he's not dead. You intrusive thoughts sure do one hell of a job. He'll be fine, and in no time he'll go back to being a reckless distraction in your life that you need to surpass. Just another obstacle to add onto the list of things life has thrown at you.

But for an obstacle, he sure is kind of cute.

You refrain from bashing your head on the desk. School isn't really a preferred environment on your list of top ten places to shrivel up and die.

Speaking of death and all that is evil, why is Childe always on your mind? He takes up every nook and cranny of your day, constantly, and truth be told it's starting to boil your piss.

Every time you close your eyes you see his smug smile, and hear his stupid laugh. He's an annoying little prick who gets a rise out of exasperating you. Yet here you are, terrified by the warmth that blossoms in your heart when you so much as hear his name.

The final bell rings at long last, conveniently before you bite your tongue to avoid screaming, and not another second is wasted once you launch yourself out the door. You dodge through the crowd of students in the hall that are buzzing in excitement from it being a Friday afternoon, and you would be too if you weren't so damn hung up over a ginger with a battlekink.

Locker in view, you make a beeline and spend the next two minutes fumbling with the lock in your hands.

"Woah there cutie," Lisa speaks up playfully. "At this rate you'll break the poor lock with your bare hands."

For a moment you're surprised at her sudden appearance, but then remember that it's normal for her to worm her way anywhere.

"It's just—this lock is being dumb okay? It has no reason being a pain in my ass but it wakes up every day and chooses violence." You hiss through your teeth, a sharp metallic ring invading your ears when you lose it and jostle the combination lock against the door of your locker.

Lisa winces, but smiles teasingly nonetheless. "Want me to give it a try?"

"Please."

Lisa has the door open at record speed.

"I love you Lisa." You confess wholeheartedly, gripping at your chest. "I love you so much—"

"Yeah yeah," She waves you off with a grin. "Now hurry up and go save your boyfriend from the common flu. Archons knows he won't make the night."

You flush at the word "boyfriend" and don't give much thought to the insinuation that lies within the rest of her sentence.

Sliding your skateboard under an arm, you spin on your heel just to bump straight into Scaramouche, who's won the scowl of the century on his face. He's the last person you want to see right now, but apparently the universe wants to have a pissing match with you.

"Give this homework to that idiot Ginger." He shoves a stack of papers into you. "Tell him that once he's done circling the drain, I'm gonna kick his ass." He then leans in, murderous glint in his eyes. "And if you ever touch me again I'll take a shit in your cereal. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

You shiver at the thought of him squatting on your Cheerios, hands becoming clammy as you try and justify yourself. "It was an accident."

Your pitiful excuse earns you nothing from the navy haired boy. "It'll be an accident when I murder your entire family, three generations over."

"Hi Mona!" You wave excitedly over his shoulder at the body of students that are totally not Mona. With elation he fails to conceal, Scaramouche turns to look at the speed of light.

You take the chance to make your escape—not before waving to Lisa, chuckling to yourself. He's down bad.

With great expertise you file your way through the flock of students chattering near the entrance. , you confidently place your skateboard down on the sidewalk, ready to—

Wait—where does he live again?

You sigh heavily, ignoring the sadness as you thank the universe internally for pulling the reigns on your disastrous plan. Checking up on Childe at his house? With his family present? Making a complete fool out of yourself? What are you thinking? The possibilities are horrendous. He probably doesn't even think of you like that, he just likes a challenge and you pose as one.

You turn away to make a run for it in the direction of your home, all the while ignoring the nagging worry in your chest for Childe. He's probably fine anyways, you don't need to check up on him, and if you did he'd likely find a way to spin it and tease you relentlessly.

Although somehow, the thought of being teased by him isn't as dreadful as you'd like it to be.

Suddenly, an idea graces you, one that guarantees your misery by sating your obligation to check up on Childe. A litany of curses escape your mouth. Genius really, the amount of ways you can think of doing something that'll end in your demise.

"Adeptus Xiao." You whisper apprehensively, already regretting your decision. "Adeptus Xiao." Glancing around your surroundings, you barely notice the shadow that looms over you at your backside.

"What do you want mortal?" Unbeknownst to you, he strikes out of nowhere, making you jump back several meters. You manage to muffle a surprised shriek.

Xiao is Venti's -6 ft boyfriend, the vicious epitome of an eboy. He has a scaled tattoo covering up the majority of an arm, a few piercing holes in his ears, all matched up with a disinterested look. Somehow, he always appears out of nowhere if you call out his name. It's sort of disturbing in a way.

His amber eyes pierce through you, forcing a shudder of fear and dread to lace your blood, almost as if he can sense you shittalking him in your head.

With shaky hands, you ask, "Can you tell me where—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear me ou—"

"No."

"Please?"

He refuses to at least pretend to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Why?" You frown, stomping your foot on the ground childishly.

"Because." He retorts with a lack of interest, but doesn't further explain his point. English teachers must love this kid.

"Okay," You say slowly, casually inspecting his form as you come up with an idea, briefly remembering Lumine mentioning it to you. "How about I give you my share on almond tofu Tuesday."

The lack of interest on his face wavers slightly. Bingo.

"What do you want mortal?" Xiao mutters gruffly, arms crossed, face morphing into subtle annoyance.

You wrack your brain for a proper answer. You can't just outright ask him or it'll seem like you have a thing for Childe, which you unfortunately do, but you'd like to keep a semblance of integrity. Ah yes, the homework!

"I gotta deliver these to Childe." You outstretch the pile of worksheets in your hands. "Except I don't know where he lives. Can you tell me?"

Xiao's eyes glint with danger. "Did you summon me for the trivial task of giving you an address?"

You nod furiously.

"Do humans have no shame?" Its rhetorical. Expressionlessly, he closes his eyes with intent focus, doing what you assume to be locating Childe's exact location.

He blinks an eye open, reaches a hand out. "Give me your phone." Palm waiting.

You hand it over to him almost desperately.

One glance at your bubbly phone case and he doesn't even try to hide his distaste. He taps a few times, then hands it back to you almost immediately.

On the screen is maps, and Childe's home is about a fifteen minute walk away.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," He mutters, leaning back against the school gate as the remainder of students walk past the two of you. "Locating demons that need subjugating is but a simple task."

There's a pregnant pause. Demon.

"Childe's a demon?" You gasp, even though you've always had your suspicions. Hence the reason you invest so much in demon-cancelling charms.

"What? No." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, and you note that his irritation grows the more questions you ask. "I had a physics project with him last semester."

That's why the charms don't work.

Your mouth forms an o, in fear that if you keep this conversation going on any longer, he'll snap at you. Especially when your next line of interrogation involves how he's able to appear and disappear into thin air.

It's a magic trick you'll want to master whenever Il Dottore has another conniption fit in the middle of the hallways after Kaeya tells him he looks like he has skid marks.

"Thank you." You say instead, trying to preserve his regard, but by the time you meet his gaze he's already gone with the wind.

—

Childe's home is surprisingly humble, considering the amount of fat stacks of cash he carries around in his fanny pack so care-freely. It's a normal suburban home from what you can tell, a little bigger than normal with a double garage, neatly mowed lawn and a few forgotten decorations from the windblume festival. A series of water guns lay forgotten near the entrance, making their presence known when you stumbled upon them.

It's hard to remain unphased. Especially since such a normal looking home has bred someone as ruthless as Childe.

Maybe it not the home, you think. Maybe it's the way he was raised. You recall a few glimpses of his mother in middle school, but because of your worse for wear memory retention, you can't ballpark her personality type.

As your thoughts wander further down to his parents and early childhood, villain origin story and what not, you're pulled out of your concentration when the door opens. The possible implications of being here are most definitely not in your favor.

Childe's mother is a stunning woman in her mid-forties who sure as hell doesn't show it in that jaw-dropping sapphire dress, topped off with a brilliant smile that makes your knees weak. Like mother like son, you suppose.

With her sudden appearance, strangely enough, you can remember how good her tiramisu bites are.

You take a moment to respond, swallowing thickly, only to stare at her stupidly.

His mother doesn't waste another second before ushering you in, oblivious to your star-struck expression. "Y/N? L/N Y/N? My have you grown. I remember when you were only this tall." She lifts her hand up a little above her waist, the jewels on her fingers dazzling with every movement. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's doing alright, busy with the clinic." You're able to find your words, smiling back at her, able to get somewhat familiar with her warmth. "I hope I'm not intruding. Childe forgot some homework." You say, heaving the short stack up.

"Ajax?" She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he's going by that now. I wonder when this phase will be over. He may act tough but he's such a softie, has the biggest heart."

You, in between concealed emotions and giggles that threaten to leak, try to hide the oncoming grin but it's impossible. "Well he's got you to thank for it."

"You flatter me too much Y/N," She fixes the up do, pinning back the blonde hair that deftly frame her familiar cerulean eyes. "I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Her words make you waver momentarily. The fondness you've refused to share, the drawn out stares in the halls, the lingering touches, you don't want to acknowledge it but it's there. Whatever it is.

"I'm so sorry for cutting this short dear," His mother sighs, grabbing her keys off the counter and placing her wallet in an elegant handbag. "My niece is getting married and we're already late. I told Ajax I'd stay if he didn't feel too well but he said he could handle a headache. That boy, I swear, always tries to power through."

You nod in understanding, but wait a minute. A headache?

Scrunching up your face, eyebrows furrowed, you ask. "Headache?"

She frowns, applying another layer of her rouge lipstick hastily in a nearby mirror. "I know dear, how unfortunate. The school nurse said it's a migraine, and I shouldn't fret much, but a mother can't help but worry. If only he weren't so stubborn, like his father."

As if on cue, a loud honk comes from outside.

"That must be him!" She exclaims, hurriedly sliding in her heels, turning back to look at your awkward figure. "Ajax is in his room, it's the second door to the right upstairs. I've made some lasagna for the kids, you ought to have some as well, I'll be upset if you don't—" Another annoying honk cuts her off, to which she scoffs, shaking a fist. "That old man, I'll strangle him in his sleep. I must be going now, goodbye dear." She reveals a twinkling smile at you one last time, waving a slim hand before picking up her heels and making a run for it.

The door closes with an unceremonious thud, gust of wind in its trail, leaving a bewildered high schooler in its wake.

Snapping out of your haze, overwhelming tides threaten to drown you whole. Being in Childe's home, alone, with him a handful of stair steps and a wall or two away, your cheeks are set ablaze.

Now that his mother's gone, you take a second to really look. There are a few toys littered in front of the TV, home covered in with soft throws and coordinated cushions, a lazy sectional plopped right in the middle. The marks on the furniture with all the stories, the light hued mismatched frames hanging on the walls and on all the table, so many pictures of those that resemble him, his brothers, his sisters, his family. You can almost hear the echoing laughter in the halls, the childish squeals and pitter patter of tiny feet slapping the hardwood floor.

This is where he grew up. This is where he retires to after a long day full of gratifying fistfights. This is where he was raised to be who he is today, ambitious and reckless, with the absurd dream to one day rule the world. This is his home.

It's...like being wrapped in blanket, safe and cozy, surrounded by all the love in the world.

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the outlines of a younger Childe, two missing teeth and eyes full of dreams, hugging the side of his father's shoulder because his small arms can't wrap around them. Not just yet.

You make your way over to the staircase, which has even more frames littered across the wall, one that falls short of hiding the marks of a green crayon—another slice of domesticity you aren't quite accustomed to.

The reality sets in, and you come to a conclusion. This home is definitely not an environment for growing psychopaths, Childe just beats the odds like he beats up kids on the daily.

Your fist hovers over his door as you contemplate abandoning the sheets on a nearby table, but his mother was so sweet and polite, so incredibly hospitable, you wouldn't have the heart to make a run for it.

"I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Three consecutive knocks. If he doesn't answer, you'll leave them at the door.

"Mama," Childe's muffled groans stem from the other side, and oh, you want to revel in the grave undertone of his voice because it's certainly not a common occurrence. "I told you I'm fine. You can go okay? I don't want you to be late, just need to sleep it off."

You blink, lips curling, and then knock again.

"Mama," He whines again, and it has you grinning mischievously. He's a mommy's boy, he has to be. The thought envelopes your heart with a newfound fondness. "Just come in and hurry."

You eagerly take in the room once you slip in, eyes scanning over every little detail, until they zero in on the heap of sheets smack dab on the single bed, a pair of feet dangling off the edge, topped with a comforter thrown over leisurely.

Childe's facing away from you, head dipped in between his shoulders, probably trying to find a position that's more comfortable. He's shivering, sweating at the same time. His mother must've been too preoccupied to notice. This isn't the first time he's used his exceptional bullshitting finesse.

"I can't believe you lied to your mother," You cross your arms, leaning back against the door.

With a jerk, Childe flings into a sitting up position, wide awake and aware of everything that is going on, a stark contrast from nearly seconds ago.

He blinks at you in shock, once, twice, rubs his eyes a bit, relaxes, then leans back, out of it completely. "For a sleep paralysis monster, you sure are kind of cute."

"For and idiot you sure are an idiot." You snort back.

"Wait a minute," He mutters slowly, jaw dropping. "You're actually here?!"

Ignoring his question, you opt to slap the papers on his desk to ignore your clammy palms. "Homework."

"And here I thought you came here all this way to be my personal nurse." He smirks, recovering from his momentary shock fairly swiftly. Doesn't refrain from giving you that shit stain of a bad boy grin, even with a flushed face and concavity under his eyes.

"I can be your personal mortician instead."

"I didn't know you were into role play babe, but I'll take what I can get." He winks, but is punished by a sequence of coughs that earn a wince from you.

"Headache?" You tease after he quiets down, but he remains as cavalier as always.

He sighs, sides of his lips still arched upwards. "My parents barely have any time to themselves, it's so hectic with the kids. What kind of son would I be if I couldn't even give them this?"

He must've threatened Barbara.

"You're," You inhale, briefly letting the silence hang between you two, mulling over what you wish to convey. sweet.

"Irresistible? Hot? Sexy?" He starts casual, arrogant smirk widening.

"Kind of not a complete asshole, is what I was going to say."

"Careful girlie," He narrows his eyes on you, playful lilt in his tone. The comforter is allowed to slip past his shoulders to reveal the goods that lie underneath, the complete naked chest of a post-puberty highschool boy who sprays too much axe. Full pectorals are something to pay for, stringed with smooth muscles that ripple their way over his toned shoulders. "If you keep teasing me like this, I can't promise I'll be the nice guy."

"One more time from the top," You bite back, avoiding staring at him for too long. "Without the congested nose this time."

With great expertise, he weakly throws a pillow at you, and you watch it exceptionally land at your feet, barely grazing the tips of your socks.

"Impressive," You whistle, not impressed.

He pouts, shivers, then is dunking his head back into the welcoming embrace of his plush collection of pillows.

With a sigh, you plop down on his chair, grab a pen and begin calculating derivatives.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't even turn your way, voice muffled.

"Homework," You reply nonchalantly, trying to calm your nerves. "unless you want me to get you something to eat, considering you puked out your gogurt on Barbara's shoes earlier. Congrats by the way, you're hit listed by her fan club."

"Why are you doing homework?" He groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

He really has an IQ below room temperature.

Burying the formidable obligation to clock him in the face on behalf of society, you slowly get up to approach his bed, to which he grins widely in disbelief.

Apprehensively, you climb onto his bed, and he scoots over, excitement as clear as day. His hair's a wild mess from all the shifting, almost makes you want to card a hand through it. Your heart nestles it's way in your throat at the sight of his blazing blue eyes.

You pity him for what you're about to do.

"Relax Childe," You lean over him with confidence you never knew you had to begin with, face hovering inches before his. Your fists strategically grip the comforter on either side of him. "We have all day after all."

Although you attempt to pay no heed to his quivering hand that snakes up to find solace on your hip, you momentarily shiver at the tenderness.

He's eating this up and leaving no crumbs. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his lips tremble when he tries to close in the distance.

Abruptly, you cross both handfuls of sheets over his body, tying them securely in place to keep him docile. He struggles in your grip, eyes snapping open in surprise. "Wuh-What."

"Did you really think you had a chance?" You cross your arms, stepping back to get a good look at your handiwork.

"Honestly?" Childe huffs, struggles some in his restraints. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Typical," You scrunch your nose up, unscrunch, and then exhale. "You stay here and I'll go make you some soup. Well, not that you can really move but you get the idea."

"You're really going to leave me here like this?" He pouts cutely, melting you, and the sick bastard knows of his power.

"Relax," You wave a hand, "I may be evil but I'm not Scaramouche."

Meanwhile, Scaramouche sneezes as he tries to ask Mona out, falling straight on his ass from the kick back, making a complete fool out of himself. Mona doesn't mind though, finds it endearing.

Back at Childe's room, he raises a brow, expectant.

Going through the five stages of grief, you do something you've been wanting to do for a while, succumbing to the immense feeling.

Closing in the distance between you two, you suck in a breath and gently tilt Childe's head to the side. He blinks quickly, not quite expecting your sudden forwardness, about to say something that doesn't matter as soon as you place a tender peck on the side of his cheek.

Time stops, the world coming to a halt completely. A moment made in history, one you won't ever forget, fresh in both your minds from forward on.

And then you stagger away as if you've been stabbed.

"Soup!" You squeak, appalled by the sheer boldness of your actions. "I'll go make soup while you rest."

Childe, frozen, stares at you incredibly confused, and then beams.

Dear Archons, what have you done.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Allurement: Waves

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

The scantily-leaved trees held on to the last of their dying offspring. But the west-winds seemed to be unbothered, trying to tear away those leaves from the branches as the rest, hued in dull to bright shades of nature danced along on the ground.

And a few crushed beneath (Y/N)'s shoes, it would have been a fun activity: crushing dried leaves under her shoes. But she was rushing towards the car waiting for her.

"So quick!" Park Jimin, as sweet and polite as the man could be, was no less a sassy hellion if he required to be. And of all, he loved to sass around her the best. But most of the time, he did have a good reason to.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I woke up late." (Y/N) was quick to apologise, as she passed him a sheepish smile while taking a seat beside him.

"You are lucky that I like you, besides, we can always drive a bit faster, or take the shortcut? So do put on your seatbelt." he smiled at her before the car roared to life and the wheels came to life and the car went off.

It had not been too long since she had begun working under Mr Kim as his secretary, temporary secretary. About three months or so. But the previous autumn, when he had put forth the proposal of giving her the job, it did not feel long ago, while in reality. it had been a year, a whole, complete revolution of the earth around the Sun and there she was, riding with Jimin to her workplace- the Kim Group of Companies' headquarters, where the respected young CEO sat and operated from.

And within a year, nothing seemed to have changed, the water of life seemed to be stagnant. But she could feel the change, deep, greater changes like upheaval in the ocean, the waves, gigantic, monstrous, terrifying. Threatening to drown her. There was so much that had changed.

Park Jimin was a great company and an excellent friend. She had found out soon after the bond of friendship had been established between the two.

Kim Namjoon was an excellent boss and that, her job as his secretary, as reasonably draining, had so much to learn from. She admired Miss Choi for her efficiency, (Y/N) had so much more to learn, both from her job as well as her employer.

And she also discovered, gradually of course, that behind the all too sophisticated, groomed gentleman laid a clumsy gentle giant who would often burn his fingers trying to make himself a cup of coffee, or even trying to pass on hot food and drinks to her. And it was devastatingly endearing.

But most of all, (Y/N) had learnt that her mother was dying. The illness was eating her mother away, chipping away her health and endurance and there was nothing (Y/N) could do about it, nothing could prevent the inevitable. So she made peace with the fact, even though she knew that deep within, she was dreading the day her mother's sunken eyes would close for eternity. But she came to accept the fact that her mother could not be saved. All she could do was to make peace with the tragedy of life, that lied within the shortness of it.

So on the surface, (Y/N)'s life was calm and stable as a lake, yet the giant waves of changing wind terrified her under the same surface.

----

"You have a meeting with the lead investors this morning, the files and reports have been arranged at your desk." she listed off from her phone gifted by the company. It was not the day's schedule, a day in Kim Namjoon's life was nothing if it could not be defined as 'busy', it was the first half of a typical Monday morning in the company.

As soon as she was done, which was rather quickly, she placed a cup of steaming brew in front of her employer- double expresso with two cubes of sugar- just the way he liked it. Mr Kim smiled at her appreciatively. It was one of the many things she liked about him and admired. He never took his employees for granted, he had never failed to let her know that he appreciated her efforts to keep his day running smoothly and sorting things out for him.

"Thank you (Y/N), I hope you had your share of morning booster as well?" she nodded with a faint smile playing on her lips before handing off the files to him as she began to brief him regarding the topics and issues he and the company had been working on.

The projects and the required consumptions and stock- price data. It was not every day that the investors would gather at the conference room, but since a new project at hand was to begin, a meeting with the investors was required.

"Well, the reports look good (Y/N), did Mr Min mail you the required files?"

"Yes, the deal was explained there. He would be presenting along with you, it is regarding the profit margin and how the chances of loss and risk are low this time," she explained, to which he nodded

"Yes, and I require you to be with me in this meeting."

"Of course I will be with you, Sir, I am your secretary."

"No, I mean sit beside me, you won't be standing behind as you have been. And I expect all your focus on the presentation, okay? There is so much you would be learning from this." she gave him an obedient nod with a small smile.

She did not intend to disappoint him at any cost. Mr Kim was her role model, she looked up to him. Given, that she despised the spotlight and the position of CEO was not for her, but she was found herself to be a perfect fit for the position of secretary.  Despite how demanding her job could get, Mr Kim was an excellent boss and mentor. He was at ease, most of the time. At most, she had seen his eyes grow cold and jaws clenched, perhaps only twice, that too if something went seriously downhill. It was a sliver of what might be laying under the controlled and calm persona. He was a human too after all.

She made her way towards her desk as soon as the briefing was over. Mr Kim's office was massive, and he did not wish to waste time on having to ring her to come to his office, thus he had a desk for her arranged in his office itself. It was kind of a mini-open office, her boss and her working under the same roof, no barriers between them, she could approach him anytime she wanted to and he did not need a phone anymore to summon her.

They had settled into a routine like that. She would begin her day by bringing him his much-needed cup of coffee and listing the first half of his morning schedule, then she could begin with her works of arranging files, stacking reports, sending emails, scanning through and replying to the mails, researching on the potential business partners, making and answering phone calls, deciding and listing appointment and other project-related materials those were deemed necessary by Mr Kim.

And all the months of working under him had been able to provide her with a unique perspective of him. There were so many things she would have never been able to discover otherwise, for instance, the fact that he loved crabs- not on his plate- but on his palms as he would gently cradle those tiny creatures whenever he would come across them. He even owned a crab, a pet crab. She would not have known had he not rambled off regarding his love for crabs while he had ordered gourmet food for them when she was required to stay some extra hours, which was a frequent occurrence. The workload could be a bit too much for him to handle, besides, those extra hours consisted far less of work one would expect and more of them talking, she had finally been able to let him enter her comfort zone, she would be damned if she had not. He had been exceptionally generous to her, he was kind and approachable, time and again he had proved it, both as a superior as well as a person.

He was warm, gentle and funny, unintentionally funny. Especially when he would break his glasses more than once a month, it would be a miracle if his AirPods would not be lost within the first week of purchase. And while his constant misplacement of files and other such important documents had managed to make her purse her lips in annoyance more than once. The warm, dimpled sheepish smile had did not allow the annoyance to remain. Because even if he would be exhausted after a day's of overwhelming work, he would not forget to wish her good night before they left the office, because even if she would be a bit late with her coffee, he never threw a fit like one would expect the boss to do. And because despite his busy schedule, he would manage to inquire about her mother's health.

Mr Kim was different. He was everything any woman would crave for and desire. And despite not being the one with shallow indulgence, she had found herself falling for her employer. It did not happen overnight. It was a gradual process, like sleep.

(L/N)(Y/N) was in love with Kim Namjoon, her boss, the heir of the legendary Kim Group of Companies.

And it had been so easy to fall in love with that man. Despite her previous reservations. And she was well-aware that the love would go tragically unreciprocated. They were worlds apart in more than one ways, the social gap, the economic gap, the professional. Everything laid in front of her to see, understand and accept the fact that her love for Kim Namjoon could not bridge the distance between the moon and a mere earthly admirer. To him, she would be many of the faceless women waiting for his attention and thronging around him if he came to know about her newfound feelings. And she did not want that to happen. She did not wish to ruin the sweet, friendly professional bond she had established with him.

And yet, she could not help the bittersweet blooms in her heart every time she would see him smile. Because she knew that sooner or later, he would be having a much warmer smile, eyes shining with love and adoration for a woman who would own his heart. It was impossible for a man like Kim Namjoon to remain single for long, he was the country's most eligible bachelor after all. Or perhaps he already had someone special in his heart, a secret lover perhaps. The mere thought dimmed her mood and often made her shoulders slump.

Of all the massive, daunting waves threatening to crash upon her, her newfound romantic attachment to her employer was the most terrifying one. Because she knew that wave would come crashing down and drown her. And that single wave against all others frightened her the most because it threatened to cause upheaval on the calm surface of her life and become the cause of her ultimate demise.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me later if I missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr

[whump-town]

Ambushed

Warnings: attempt sexual assault and Emily's potty mouth

No Pairings

Summary: A bathroom break goes very, very wrong

It's whumptober so I have to at least try this month to make things awful. Also, this is for @olivinesea, who has been waiting on this fic for months... maybe longer

Hotch’s order had been for Reid to follow him, that it would be the two of them departing tomorrow morning at four a.m. for Charleston, West Virginia. The way Hotch had marched across the catwalk with his file spoke measures about his mood before his clipped tone did. The second Hotch roughly called his name Reid flinched, looking pleadingly to Emily. Knew he was the target and was pleading with her to find some way to save him. With a sigh of resignation, she leans her head into her palm, knows what she’s about to put herself through for the sake of Reid and Hotch.

If Hotch has a problem with her rather blatant insubordination, he doesn’t say anything about it. He comes in and sees her, her go-bag at her feet and two coffees in hand, and raises an eyebrow. Ultimately, he carries on his path towards their SUV. Sharing not a word just a glance that she takes to his equivalent of a motion for her to follow him. She knows his silence to be of low social battery drained by the early morning and fatigue, nothing personal.

Besides four a.m. is way too early to be talking to anyone.

It gives him time to think, to try and not sour this entire trip with his bull in a china shop mood. He’s just unsettled, has this awful feeling in his stomach that he’s grown accustomed to developing whenever they take cases in the mountains. It’s not that he is afraid of them, this isn’t a matter of ghosts or monsters, but there is so much uncertainty every time you enter them. He spent his entire childhood roaming the Appalachian Mountains, knows them by their many dimensions. Chasing squirrels, knee-deep in rotting leaves every fall. The cooling breeze sweeping through pine needles, snakes striking at ankles. The trees swaying to tunes unrecognizable to his ears. Hearing his mother’s voice calling his name, turning to find nothing but shadows. Knowing someone, something, is watching around every turn.

Quantico is about all the Virginia he can handle, the city nestled warmly where the southern Virginians rarely touch it but northern Virginians are everywhere to be seen. The accents not so thick and the city full of tourists-- people from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, etc. Fewer woods to get lost in.

Charleston?

He’s going to be neck-deep in the mountains everywhere he looks.

Emily’s here so that’s bound to make this whole trip more interesting. With her annoying wit and much to be desired charm. It’s like she can feel him thinking about her. With a yawn Emily sits up in her chair, shooting a sleep-stained scowl at him. She rubs her fists into her eyes, attempting to force herself back to awareness. “That coffee went right through me,” she tells him, clearly annoyed. She’s prone to oversharing but, for some reason, with him, it’s so much worse. He assumes it’s just because she knows it exasperates him. Doesn’t anger him but he typically sighs and shakes his head.

Secretly, he likes it. The way she’ll invade his person like no one else has the courage to. Casually laying across the couch and putting her feet in his lap or leaning against him. Talking like they’re lifelong friends and not two people distantly connected for the last twenty years as enemies, tied together by their hatred for one another. Only recently having learned there’s something more, still a nice enough connection that binds them as friends.

She squirms in the seat, bladder a little too full to be comfortable. The darkness outside consumes every indicator of where they are on the road. She can hardly make out the tree lines and aside from yellow precautionary signs aligning them with the turns on the road, there are only thick, choppy clouds of fog. It’s a little after five-thirty so they still have to be in Virginia. “Where the fuck are we?”

He grunts, furrowing his eyebrows at her explosive fuck cutting so harrowingly through the peaceful silence. It’s not an unusual occurrence, he’s used to the way she effortlessly tears through the walls and caverns he builds up around himself. “Strasburg.”

She groans, “really?” She should have made Reid come on this stupid trip. She could still be in her own bed, pressing snooze and rolling back over. Instead, she’s got to pee so freaking bad and she doesn’t know if Hotch is in one of his “no stops” moods or not. He’s such an asshole about making stops when they’re on the road. “I’ve got to take a leak, boss, so… We’re looking at a bathroom stop soon or new detailing on these seats.” She looks down at the worn seats, runs her fingers over the loose seams and torn fabric. “Not that they couldn’t use it.”

He seems more agitated with her oversharing than with having to stop-- looks like a bathroom break in her future.

She stays silent for a few minutes, just watching what she can from outside her window until the next town comes into view. She shoots him a glance, wonders if he’s actually going to stop, and breathes a sigh of relief when he uses the turn signal, pulling them in that direction. There was no way she was going that long without a bathroom break.

Hotch pulls the car into park, frowning when he sees the lack of lights guiding their path to the gas station and even around the side of the building where he knows the bathrooms are bound to be. Leaving them standing in the dark facing the woods. She’s already unbuckling, moving quickly so she can go pee, but he beats her out of the car. Opens his door first and announces, “I’ll go with you.” She frowns, cuts his back a dirty, confused look but doesn’t say anything.

He’s already standing on her side of the car when she gets out, glaring ahead at the empty field and then towards the woods.

“So you do care,” she mumbles, bumping her shoulder against his. “You don’t want me to get eaten by a bear.”

He grunts, still half-distracted by the darkness and the threat it presents.

She’s imagining him fighting a bear. “You know,” she keeps his pace, curiously looking around as they go. “I think you’re a really tough guy,” she says, “but Hotch vs. A Bear just… I’m rooting for you, really, but I’m not stopping to see who wins. No offense. I think you’d put up a good fight but I think, as a general rule of thumb, watching your friends get mauled to death by Pooh does not fall into the typical bonding experiences that strengthen dynamics.” She’s rambling, not in the same way Reid would have. At least with Reid, Hotch would still likely have the semblance of not only control -- the timing to include himself in conversation -- but also a clue about what the in the world they’re even talking about.

She sees him glare at her and so she glares back, “I said no offense!”

“Go to the bathroom, Emily.”

She smiles as she makes her exit, feeling triumphant with herself. She’d seen that little smirk, not a quirk of lips detectable to the naked eye but the way his eyes had flipped up. Looking to the stars, eyes searching up and away from her. A Hotch smirk and the very best kind.

Distracted by the graffiti all over the walls she hears the faint thump of something outside and humorously wonders if it’s a bear. “Hotch v Bear”, round one, and she’s in the damn bathroom.

While she’s washing her hands her stomach growls and she wonders if he’ll end up following her into the gas station too if she goes in for a snack. The man’s a shadow when he’s worried. She’ll probably try to reach for a snack and find him right underfoot mean-mugging the cashier for no apparent reason. A snack though… She’s starving and maybe if she’s feeling feisty enough she’ll start an argument with him until he gets a snack too. It’ll entertain her for a while.

“Hey,” she frowns when she steps out of the bathroom and finds that he’s not there. Not leaning against the wall like she thought he’d be. “Jesus, did that bear really get the--”

A gun cocks in her ear, slow but unmistakable.

“Slowly put your service weapon on the ground and raise your hands.”

She’s frozen in the spot. Eyes glued to their shadows cast out far around them. Drawn out caricatures of them.

“Do it or I’ll kill your friend.”

It wasn’t a bear.

She reaches for her gun, steady and slow movements. Her fingers curl around the metal and she wonders if she’d be able to move fast enough. That there’s a good likelihood if Hotch isn’t within her line of sight that he’s already dead and if she doesn’t do something she will be too. But she can’t risk it.

“Rob!” the man grabs her gun before she’s got it on the ground. Jerks it back from her grasp. To their left, coming around the section of the building facing the woods and completely dark, another man steps out. He’s younger than she is, probably thirty-fiveish, and dressed in work gear. Jeans that have plaster and paint stains and a t-shirt that is stained to the point of no return. “Get the G-man.”

Rob nods, disappearing just as quickly as he’d appeared.

“Listen--” as soon as she can open her mouth the gun taps the back of her head. A sharp warning followed by the order to shut up. No negotiating then.

A grunt turns both their attentions to the side of the building. Hotch stumbles out before Rob. His hands bound in front of him by rope and when he looks up to find her she watches him blink blood out of his eyes. There’s an open wound across his forehead, blunt force trauma split the skin open and now the wound weeps fat crimson tears down his face. His mouth is taped shut, deep grey cutting into his pale mouth. He’s disoriented enough to fall, tripping over his legs as he’s shoved forward.

Rob keeps a gun pointed at his head the whole time but looks to the man behind her. Waiting for the next instruction and as the man gives them she watches Rob react the same she does. Whatever is happening here Rob is an accomplice but he’s not in charge.

“Walk.”

The gun nudges her forward. She bites back her anger, annoyed with this constant nudging business, but her voice is still laced with it. She can play even-tempered but it’s going to take more control than she wants. But she has to play along. Unless she wants to die tonight or, worse, watch Hotch die. “Where?” she asks “Tell me where I’m walking.”

“The woods,” her answer comes, grunted and annoyed. “Now walk.”

Rob pulls Hotch up to his feet (so he’s stronger than he looks, Emily notes) and pushes him forward again. Hotch manages to stay standing this time, bringing his bound hands to his face to swipe at the blood. The glimpse she gets of his blood-stained fingers is what brings her to motion. To be close enough to inspect the wound herself.

“Straight ahead.”

She steps forward, shivering as the wind blows and she’s reminded that despite it being the middle of June it’s likely only sixty degrees out here. Getting out of the car, she hadn’t been planning on being kidnapped. If she had maybe she would have grabbed her jacket. Her fault, she supposes lack of forethought on her part.

As she steps into his gait, the two of them shoulder to shoulder but not close enough that she thinks Rob or the other man will say anything she glances over at him. A look she means to use to articulate her worry and to ask if he’s forming a plan on how to get them out of this. She’s met with his blood-stained eyes. He doesn’t know how they’re getting out of this. It hits her hard, unforgivingly.

If he’d set his shoulders and sent that haggard, worn look she’d understand he thought they were up against fools not even worth the exertion of escaping from. That the bump on his head pissed him off more than hurt him. Something akin to annoyance would mean he already had his plan, she should wait for the cue. Here, in the place she’s searching for his tactile brilliance, is trauma. He’s locking it down behind walls as quickly as he can but she still sees it. Trapped, they’re trapped and he’s blanking on what to do.

Well, maybe he gets a little leeway. He did get hit in the head.

So, fine, she’ll do it herself.

Can you fight? Dave said it was creepy, the conversations they passed through glances, and now she’s hoping creepy is enough to keep them alive.

He looks back, one glance over his shoulder, and gives a sharp nod.

Good.

Next comes the part she’s not really sure how works. The part where she never actually says anything at all, they just move together. Concisely at the same time. She moves for the unknown man and Hotch knows to go for Rob. Both trusting that the other can handle their target. She can hear Hotch take Rob off his feet at the same time her body smacks into the unknown man. The air is taken from her body, leaving her to pause for a dangerous second as her body fights to get it back. His elbow swings sharply into her cheek, smacking dancing lights behind her eyelids.

She’s trained for this kind of stuff. This shouldn’t be so hard.

It’s a bit of a panic, throwing her hands down. Just punching down blindly and hoping the blows land.

There’s a gunshot-- it takes her too long to recognize the sound. Her ears ring and her body aches. The wrangling limbs, the man underneath her, stops as they all identify who it is overcoming as the largest threat.

It’s Rob, blood-flecked across his face.

Hotch’s blood splattered across his face.

Emily screams, disembodied as she throws herself towards Rob but she’s stopped, grabbed by the hair, forced back down through the leaves, and sticks. The leverage pins her to the man’s chest, both pulled upright. All she can do is stumble back. She’s immobilized by the forearm he presses against her windpipe. “I oughta kill you,” he growls, smacking the gun against her temple. Not enough to draw blood but it cracks, makes the area of her scalp throb. “Stupid fucking bitch,” he pulls her tighter, ignores her fingers scratching at his skin as he cuts off her ability to breathe. “Both of you. I should have just killed both of you in that damn bathroom. Started with the G-man and I could have had hours, until day-light, with you trapped in that bathroom.”

He eases his hold on her not out of preservation of life but in his realization that he’s angry with himself for being so reckless. He and Rob had never had problems before. One woman wasn’t all that hard to control and after seeing Hotch and Emily walking so close, bumping together they thought it could be fun. Force him to watch and see if that makes this any more fun. To see him bargain for her life or sit there lifeless in his resignation that he could do nothing.

But Hotch was stronger than he looked.

“No!” her voice is scratchy from the pressure had against her throat. Combined with her desperation it cracks, pops like roaring embers in a hearty fire. “Stop! You’re killing him! Get off of him!”

Rob has Hotch pinned to the ground, his hands around his throat.

The other man holds Emily still, prevents her from being able to pull herself away. This isn’t how he’d intended for this to go but, he has to admit, this is fairly interesting as well. He’d expected it to be G-man that was forced to break. A big strong guy like him doesn’t take losing well. Feeling Emily shiver and cry in his arms is nice. Her desperation hums in his veins, arousing him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He doesn’t want to lose that just yet.

“Get off of him, Rob.”

Hotch’s arms are still bound, all Rob had to do was push him over. It was over in a flash, leaving Hotch face down in the dirt one second and watching the trees above him fade out as Rob pushed down harder against his windpipe, his fingers digging into his neck. He couldn’t move. Unable to do anything more than turn and twist his hips, his arms pressed into his groin where Rob had immobilized them the second he threw his hips over Hotch’s.

Rob doesn’t let go, not immediately. He pushes down a little harder, wants to feel the snap of the other man’s neck but his name is called again. This time, not the light order the first had been. Rob doesn’t release Hotch and with an annoyed huff, the other man raises a gun. Emily cries out again, stunned by the gun right by her head, and flinches falls with a crash to the floor when the trigger is pulled. Her head a roaring buzz, trying to swivel its way off her neck. No matter how hard she pressed down on her ears she feels the throbs of pain as if her head was swelling. The world pulsing.

Rob’s dead.

She looks up and she’s looking right into his eyes. Shocked and open, not expecting the betrayal of his partner.

“Hey beautiful,” the other man crouches down beside her. Takes advantage of her confusion, of her shock. Her friend dead. Knowing she’ll follow soon after. “You never told me your name, you know. I’m Mark.” He strokes her hair back from her face, pushes her down to the ground.

Fighting is futile.

She had a chance with Hotch. Their odds nearly even, two against two. Even tied up and bleeding, they’re a threat that can’t be replicated and certainly not by an Unsub. Not one who takes women from gas station bathrooms in the ugly hours of the morning. Not ones dumb enough to take federal officers.

But it’s over.

It’s over and Hotch is dead.

“Don’t cry,” Mark whispers against her throat. He wipes her tears away with the back of his finger, shaking his head and mockingly comforting her. “But,” he holds her head, tenderly cupped in his palm. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

Emily turns her head from Mark’s hand, finds herself looking at Hotch. His still body, head turned away from her. This is how it ends. Hotch dead and she’s powerless. She’s left his turned cheek, even he can’t bear to see. So she looks to the scar under his ear from New York, the hearing he lost and never fully recovered. A scab from shaving this morning. His hairline, the greys that were popping up around his temples and ear. Still sparse enough that he doesn’t look aged by them. And the blood. The wound Rob inflicted on him in their initial meeting. It doesn’t bleed now, it hadn’t been agitated in their fight. Color had started to creep into its edges, bruising to further demonstrate its anger in having been disturbed so violently.

Now he’s just dead.

She tries not to make a sound when Mark gets her pants undone, tries to make out unaffected. His hand cups at her hip, cold fingers curled around her. There’s a certain level of invisibility she’d felt on the other side of the yellow tape. After years of having used her body to get things, to win Ian Doyle’s trust and eventually his secrets, she’d thought herself too clever for this. Got too comfortable, perhaps. Surrounded by the likes of Hotch and Dave and Spencer and Derek. How many times had she stripped down to just an undershirt, leaned in too close over one of their shoulders just because she felt comfortable? Knew they wouldn’t hurt her.

But she’s losing.

After all the ways she’d won, all the ways she’d found victories in men’s selfish desires, and now she’s laying in the woods. She’s losing.

She’s going to die too.

But she doesn’t.

She jerks, unprepared for the sudden sharp pain across her temples. Her hands coming up to protect her ringing ears and not expecting the dead weight of Mark over top her. She writhes away, feels something hot and wet landing on her breast, sliding down her ribs. Sticks and rocks push against her shoulders but she fights with a terrified panic, crying in her blinding fear. Her fist connects hard with an audible crack of bone against bone and everything stops.

She pushes herself up and back, the back of her hand swiping through blood and sweat across her face. Leaves give beneath her, too slick with dew to hold properly as she moves backward. Sticks dig into her skin. Rocks turn over as she kicks them. Until she’s got an actual picture of what’s happening. Until her brain can work over details.

Mark is on his chest. His head split open, a terrifying weeping wound. Shot.

“Hotch?” she’s removed. Only partially aware of things as she takes them in. Of Mark’s death. Of the damp ground beneath her. Of the chill in the air. Of her own pounding heart. Of Hotch laid out on his back, eyelashes fluttering but open. Gasping sounds -- from her and from Hotch. His chest rising quickly with his shallow breathes.

Her knees scream smart pain as rocks and twigs dig into her flesh, deadened leaves chilled by the night’s air seeping through the material of her pants. She doesn’t even realize she’s moving, it’s automatic. It’s uncontrolled. “Hotch?” she touches his cold skin, taps at his cheek an indistinct beat she hopes will raise him from whatever unconscious solace he’s found. He breathes, shallow but audibly as his body tries to work again.

She touches his throat, grazes her fingers against miserable, chilled skin. He’s alive. Despite all the odds. Despite what she’d seen. Alive.

She cries as she leans forward, pressing their temples together. Cheek to cheek, their cold skin warm against one another. “I thought you were dead,” she sobs, fully allowing herself now to break. To feel the terror and isolation she’d felt thinking he was gone. Killed right in front of her. “You fucking bastard,” she holds onto his clothes, feels his hand come up and his fingers fumble to grasp her. To feel her alive and well. “I thought you were dead.”

He lets out a huff of breath, as close to relived laughter as he can manage. “Me too.”

She pulls back just enough to look down at his face, his pale lips twitching up and the blood caked across the side of his face. “I’m never going on a road trip with you again,” she says.

He nods, breathlessly whispering, “fair.”

She shivers, the breeze picking up. “Can you walk?” They can’t be that far from the car. She’s already pushing her hands into his pants pockets before he can answer, in search of the keys. Distracted to the point that she misses when he shakes his head. When he admits things are a little worse than what she thinks. “What do you mean--” and she looks down, his left hand shakily lifting off his abdomen.

“Shit!” she pushes his hand back over the wound. The first thing that comes to mind is to ignore the problem but that’s not very rational. “Why couldn’t it have been a bear?” That seems like it really beats watching him bleed out in the woods. She lowers her head, turns away from him for a second. She can’t lose her cool. He just saved her and now she has to return the favor. At this point, she refuses to go home without him.

Her earlier remark about bonding has aged like milk.

Something cold nudges her hand just faintly grazes her fingers. Despite everything they’ve been through in the last hour she still flinches, tries to move her hand away from what she suspects is a spider. There are sticks poking her back and ass but she’ll be damned if she’s going to become a jungle gym for a spider to crawl all over. Except she looks down and finds fingers, Hotch’s right hand pushing at her fingers.

It’s candy. Slowly, trying to find her courage and work through her panic, she lifts her palm back up. Looks at the stark contrast of his white mint on the decaying leaves.

She laughs.

They say nothing and yet they share an entire conversation. All glances, his pain pinching at the corners of his eyes, fatigue weighing him down quickly, and her slight humor over his grandpa candy. The mint is crushed, it hadn’t survived their rough journey well. “Are you trying to tell me my breath stinks?” she asks, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow to dare him. A playful sort of smirk on her lips as she declares, “Because I swear to God, I’ll punch you in the balls, Hotch.”

He smirks and as he opens his mouth a branch cracks, a flashlight shines right into their eyes.

“Hands up!”

Emily raises her hand to cover her eyes, wincing. “We’re -- We’re federal agents!” The flashlight lowers just a bit, enough so that she can see it’s a man standing before her.

“Your buddy hurt?” he asks.

Emily looks down, Hotch is already looking back at her. He’s shivering now and she knows whatever is about to happen is all on her. “Shot,” she answers. “Some guys they… they ambushed us? Dragged us out here.”

The man nods, “can he walk?”

She looks back down, Hotch’s eyes sinking shut, fighting to stay open. “I -- I don’t know? Maybe?” No. No, but she’ll drag his ass out of here if she has to.

“Alright,” the man steps forward, and Emily tenses. “I ain’t gonna hurt you little lady but you ain’t getting that big fella up without some help.”

Hotch remembers very little of what happens next. Standing seems to pull all of the blood from his body, at least there isn’t any in his head. Everything is confusing, a strange man is on his left and Emily on his right. He wakes up in a truck bed, rocking back and forth. His head in Emily’s lap and the cold wind grabbing at the blanket pulled under his chin. “We’re almost there, Hotch. Just hold on.” But she sounds like she’s underwater. Far away.

And then everything is still.

“And that’s how I saved us.”

He follows the sound of the voice over to his right, to Emily. She’s sitting up in bed, legs curled underneath her. There’s a chunk of gauze taped to her temple but she’s not wearing a hospital gown. She looks good, nearly restored to the Emily Prentiss he’s used to seeing around the office. The others are gathered around her, Dave smirking at what must have been a rather grandiose retelling of what happened.

“Technically,” he rasps, “I saved you first.”

Emily’s face betrays the first thing she feels hearing him. He’s been laying there for four days, unresponsive. He’d been on a ventilator the first two days. Throat nearly swollen shut from Rob’s attack, bruised badly. But now his eyes are open and he’s challenging her, picking a fight having been awake a whole minute. She's weirdly thrilled to see him glaring at her, too high and too exhausted to hide it.

“Are we really going to start keeping score?” she asks.

His eyes burn, they’re too heavy to keep open. He lets them slide shut, smirking still. A moment passes, maybe longer, and he feels a hand take his. Plastic sitting uncomfortably against his palm. It takes him a moment, the drugs trying so hard to pull him back under. It’s the mint he’d given her.

She doesn’t smile now, they share no knowing glances.

He hums, closing his hand around the mint.

“Considers us even,” she whispers.

He manages to crack his eyes open just a sliver, voice is completely gone but she just barely make out what he says: “not a chance.”