#this is not proofread in the slightest and I wrote it on my phone please forgive me

[writerfae]

Ranva remembered dreaming of the girl with the crown of thorns when she was little.

It had always frightened her, the way the girl would scream and cry and pin her to the ground, raising the dagger high to sink it right into Ranva’s heart.

She used to wake up in tears, running to find shelter in the bed of her parents. Her mother used to run her hand through her dark locks and sooth her back to sleep.

She remembered asking her mother who the girl was, but she didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know, dear. But she cannot harm you, so don’t be afraid. The nightmare will pass eventually, just you wait.”

And she was right, it did.

Ranva almost forgot about it, until one day Henry crawled into her bed, frightened by a nightmare about a girl with a crown of thorns.

She had soothed him back to sleep like her mother once did for her, telling him the same calming words.

It took some nights, but eventually the nightmare passed for Henry, too. Still, this time the girl with the crown of thorns didn’t leave her mind that easily.

She kept wondering who she was and why she kept haunting the dreams of her family.

Maybe that was why one day, when she sat in her chair with Aiden sleeping close to her heart and exhaustion from worrying about her baby made her fall asleep as well, she dreamed of the girl again.

This time, the dream was different from what she remembered and what her eldest son had told her.

She wasn’t the one standing face to face with the girl, she was watching from the distance as the girl fought with someone else.

It was a young man and he seemed awfully familiar, though she couldn’t quite explain how or why.

Knowing how that dream would end, Ranva ran towards them to try and stop the girl from harming him.

As she got closer she got a better look on the boy that the girl was fighting with and it almost made her stop dead in her tracks.

He looked almost like Milan. Almost. But something about him was different.

Ranva could tell that it wasn’t her husband who was currently fighting for his life there, yet the boy felt strangely familiar and she felt the desperate need to help, to save him.

The girl now had him pinned down to the floor and a panicked scream escaped Ranva’s throat as she saw her raise the dagger high up into the air.

Its blade flashed in the light and much to her surprise the dagger, too, was familiar to her.

Pushing the realization aside she lunged forward to throw herself between the two.

Why she did it, she couldn’t tell, all she felt was the urge to save the boy.

But it was in vain, for she slid right through the two as if they were made out of mist.

Staving off a hard fall, Ranva rolled to the side. She tried standing up again, but somehow she couldn’t move.

Around her, time seemed to have slowed down.

Not too far away, the boy turned his head to face Ranva and their eyes met. He smiled slightly, mouthing something she couldn’t understand.

His outstretched hand twitched like he tried reaching for her and Ranva’s eyes filled with tears as she watched helplessly how the dagger sank down into his chest and the boy went still within seconds.

His eyes were still staring at Ranva, unblinking, and she had to look away.

Her eyes wandered to the dagger and the pair of hands still clasped around its beautifully adorned handle and even higher up to the face of the girl who had just committed the horrible crime in front of her.

A cold fist closed itself around Ranva’s heart. Because the person that held the bloodied knife wasn’t the girl with the crown of thorns anymore.

It was Ranva’s mother.

Ranva awoke with a gasp, her cheeks wet with tears.

Aiden was awake, too, crying and wiggling around as if he just had a bad dream himself.

Quickly brushing away her tears she started to sooth the baby, trying to calm both of them down. She held her little son close, pressing a kiss to his head.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Nothing to worry about.

Later, when her husband and sons were already asleep, Ranva sat down in front of their bed and pulled out a little chest from under it.

Careful not to wake Milan or Aiden, she opened the pretty lid, revealing a bunch of letters and items from a life she had long left behind.

Reaching into the chest, her fingers felt for something hidden away at the very bottom of it.

Something that hadn’t left her mind all day.

She finally found what she was looking for, pulling out an object wrapped in a dark red cloth.

Taking a deep breath, she unwrapped it, revealing an adorned bronze dagger.

It was the exact same dagger from her dream. Runa’s dagger.

Ranva gasped.

Maybe this wasn’t just a dream after all.

Maybe it was a warning.

*

Make it known to the world, I finally got my lazy ass up to write something

story masterpost

tag list: @andifthestarsweretodie @bloodlessheirbyjacques @bluehourskyeli @charleeyy @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @gr3y-heron @justafrogandherumbrella @jessica-writes22 @ladywithalamp @magic-is-something-we-create @marrowwife @myhusbandsasemni @my-cursed-prince @phantasticdomains @rhikasa @saltysupercomputer @sleepy-night-child @soupopoireau @thegirlwithnonickname @thewalkingnerd @vampywriter @vsnotresponding @writing-is-a-martial-art (if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!)

[schoenpepper]

Hi teh needing some all time comfort so can I request for Trey, Jade and Floyd where their S/O got injured? Like sprained their ankle or something. Or broke their toe nail from taekwando because they had a miscalculation kick🙂

(Totally did not happen to me haha)

It Hurts, Doesn't It?

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, trey's is suggestive kyahhh idk what i wrote for him

A/N: Sige beh para sayo <3 HAHAHAHAAHAHA unahin ko req mo kasi kawawa ka naman pagbibigyan na kita. My phone died and it ain't charging on any cable so I'm gonna cry haha goodnight good morning good afterevening

Masterlist

Trey's hands are warm and gentle, massaging your ankle with practiced motions. "You uh, do this often?" you wince when he rolls it a bit too much to the left.

"Too much. Children are clumsy."

"I'm not a child."

He shoots you an unimpressed look over the top of his glasses, his fingers slowly pressing on the spots that make you hiss and thrash under his touch. "Stay still or it won't get any better."

"Okay," you pout, "big brother."

There's something dangerous in his honey dipped eyes that makes you attempt to pull back, but there's just no escaping him when he gently tugs on your leg and makes you lose your balance. "You aren't my sibling," he whispers, "and I am not your brother." You get it, you really do. You nod your head and try to pull back again, but suddenly, his lips are on your skin, pressing light kisses over the painful parts.

"What are you—?!"

"I wouldn't do this for my siblings," Trey's kisses slowly continue to climb up your leg, "so don't call me that again."

Floyd thinks the situation is funny, so he pokes and prods at the reddened skin on your ankle while laughing. "Shrimpy, how'd you manage to do that? Did you trip over yourself?" You know better than to regale him of your sad tale, so you purse your lips and pull your leg away from his restless hands.

"Floyd, it hurts. Cut it out please."

He frowns and leans in closer. You lean back against the bench, trying not to move your foot too quickly when he's closing in the distance without leaving you any chance to breathe. "But you promised to spend today with me. You can't back out on your promises."

You shake your head. "Nothing I can do, Floydie. I can't play with you when I can barely even walk."

"You can't walk, shrimpy?" you're suddenly hoisted up into his arms, "I'll carry ya'."

"Floyd! Put me down, please!"

He shakes his head and runs off, forcing you to wrap your arms around him for support.

"Nah, don't feel like it. Let's go play in Azul's office!"

Jade regards your ankle with his typical smile that betrays nothing of his true thoughts, slowly rubbing the area in a rhythm that almost lulls you to sleep. His gloves are tucked on your lap, his hat sloping down on your head almost covering your eyes. "Still," he speaks in a soft, low tone, "it is rather impressive you could injure yourself in such a situation."

Translation: That was dumb. How the fuck did you get hurt like that?

You give him a sheepish smile, pulling up the brim of the hat so that your view of his pretty face, all tense with the slightest tinge of worry, is unimpeded. "Thank you for helping, Jade."

"Of course. It's not as if I'm doing it for free."

Well, you should have expected it already. Octavinelle's brand of benevolence is often expensive. Your hands subconsciously fiddle with the satin of his gloves. "Of course, what do you want?"

His smile turns a little more genuine.

"And I could ask anything of you?"

You grimace. "Within reason."

"Then perhaps," his tone is a bit breathier when he gets closer to you, "a kiss for your knight in shining armor?"

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @fsh1 @lemon-koii

[shotorozu]

I have so many cute, fluffy requests but lemme drop this one! I’d love to request head cannons of Bakugo, Shinsou, Kirishima, and Mirio being dared to lay on their crush’s lap. Y/N is chilling on the couch on her phone, unaware of this. So these bois fulfill the dare and of course Y/N is surprised but she always liked them and doesn’t think she’ll have an opportunity like this again, so what does she do? Place her phone down and gently rubs their head with one hand and cheek with the other with a tender smile and even calling them cute.

laying on their crush’s lap

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, togata mirio

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, but a f! reader, quirk’s not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff

note(s) : i want to apologize for not uploading yesterday! i was quite hoarded with school work, but just so you know— i do see your requests :)) i also wrote this at 3am by the way so.. no proofread rn but i will later!

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

ugh— first of all

bakugou is not one for dares. he thinks dares are quite useless, and irrelevant

however, it was either him; bakugou katsuki, being labeled a chicken or

laying his head down on Y/N— his crush. it doesn’t seem so bad to be honest

but.. the problem is that no one excluding the bakusquad has an idea of his feelings towards you

little did he know, you also harbor feelings towards him.

his pride.. can’t be hurt from something like this. nah, that’d be embarrassing

so he decides to go through with the dare.

after dinner, and briefly before he goes to sleep—

he enters the ground floor, and walks past the common room, where the bakusquad was just chilling at

you’re sitting beside them, just chilling on your phone— while listening to their antics

the bakusquad’s just staring at him, with a knowing look adorning their expressions

bakugou blinks, and he can sigh irritatedly— as he walks towards the couch, standing in front of you

carmine eyes practically glaring at you, waiting for you to notice his intense stare locked on you

with the bakusquad staring in anticipation, waiting for something to happen

you eventually notice (i mean, how could you not?) and you can only tilt your head “what’s up with you??” you question him with a light hearted tone

he doesn’t say much, only sighing before immediately dropping down and settling his head on your lap

you immediately grow flustered, suddenly aware of how soft his ash blond hair is (despite it’s rather.. spiky appearance)

the bakusquad’s just like “HOLY SHIT- he actually did it!” and it’s suddenly.. a lot more chaotic. 

the blond shifts his position momentarily, red eyes staring up at you as they scan your expression for any sign of rejection

taking in your sheepish expression, and the fact that you gave him nothing but a rather.. contagious smile, he takes that as a good sign 

but he’s surprised when you set down your phone, and attaching one hand onto his head- petting luscious blond pieces of hair

he blinks- genuinely pleased by this action and the bakusquad goes beserk

“is that good enough for you, dumbasses?” he asks switching back to his usual self, and they don’t give him much of an answer- only sending him cheeky looks.

when it’s time to go back to your rooms, bakugou suddenly breaks the silence.

“based off your reaction, i could say you like me back.” bakugou says it in such a soft tone, which is very out of character

you can only nod, and before you guys part ways, bakugou grabs the courage to grab your face and kiss you love the pining

hitoshi shinsou

it was definitely kaminari that asked him to do this, i mean.. when was it not-

recently joining the hero course in his second year, finally after working hard for his spot in the class- he became classmates with you

the person he’s been crushing on for the last year or so.

again, hitoshi’s pretty chill when it comes to dares and class games, but he’s not someone that would indulge in them regularly.

but kaminari, being quite the social butterfly he is, waltzed over to the recent addition to their class

and asked him to lay his head on your lap. since he was having his suspicions of shinsou having a crush.

shinsou’s thinking like.. “damn, he definitely knows. i mean, he’s probably the only person that knows.”

thing is, he’s probably the least bold out of all of these characters. 

like.. he kinda wants to do it because it’s you but he’s also considering your feelings

oh boy.. if only you knew.

and he doesn’t want to embarrass you either. so he's just having a heart time just finding the perfect moment. 

scanning the hallway of any people, he pads right across it as he enters the common room

he’s surprised to see you chilling on the couch.

you squeak out a small noise startled by the sudden appearance of another person, but they immediately calm down realizing it’s shinsou

“didn’t expect to see you there,” you laugh, and he could only chuckle at your reaction, as he stand next to the couch 

his stomach is practically swarming with butterflies, but he replies anyway “you’re not staying in your room?”

“i didn’t realize how late it was,” you smile, “what’re you doing down here?”

“just getting a glass of water,” shinsou replies simply, silently trying his best to calm down his racing heart, shifting to stand infront of you 

it’s silent for a few seconds, and it feels like forever. but shinsou concludes that he might as well do it now. 

there's no one here to question his actions anyway.

dropping down, he pushes his head onto your lap- which surprises you because you never expected hitoshi shinsou; your crush 

to just.. suddenly settle his head on your lap. 

you’re flustered, but you love how the peaceful look on his usually tired out face.

placing your hand on his head, fingers weaving through purple locks- you allow a moment to pass by 

breaking the silence, you speak “how cute,” 

shinsou raises an eyebrow at your comment, and stands right up- walking away from the cut short moment. 

“where are you going?” you ask, since how could he just do that and walk away so casually?? 

“getting water, like i said.” the corner of his lips turn up slightly. “i’ll see you later. maybe we could do this more.”

you don’t reply- and shinsou could only laugh at the way you owlishly blink “now who’s the cute one now?” he pokes fun at your bewildered- yet cute expression, and it’s not long before he disappears into the hallway 

the next day, kaminari experiences such a field day when he finds out he did it. he could tell by the sheepish look on your face.

kirishima eijirou

who’s the one that dared him? it was mina and kaminari

similar to bakugou, the bakusquad’s the only one that has a slight idea of your crush, and that includes bakugou 

to his dismay

so they dared kirishima to do this because it might just give you guys a head start. and they also wanted to see kiri’s reaction.

at first, kirishima was pretty reluctant regarding this dare, because.. how tf is he gonna do this??

is it unmanly to just.. walk up to you and plop his head right down onto your lap? 

what if he tarnished what y’all have? he wouldn’t say it’s a relationship yet, but your relationship’s at a pretty good place right now. 

it was bakugou that convinced him to do the dare because “just do it, idiot. it might do you something good for once.” 

he only said this because he wanted them to shut up ngl

so if his bestie- bakugou is telling him to a dare then.. it’s probably a sign to do it. 

shaking off the nervousness, kirishima walks off to find you- because the sooner the better, right?

you’re just doing your own thing, as you chill with mina on the couch. seeing the red head- mina sends a quick expression that practically tells him to go for it

kirishima gulps, nervously- and he enters the area, you’re suddenly aware of his presence. 

“oh, hi kiri!” you greet him casually, and he waves back at you, butterflies tickling his stomach. 

no need to feel nervous eijirou, just.. do it.

breathing in, he immediately kneels down on the floor right infront of you

you’re startled when you suddenly feel weight on your lap, and you’re visibly flustered seeing your own crush resting his head on your lap

mina’s making train noises right now, but she’s trying hard to not make a huge deal out of it (but how could she not, really? she’s tired of seeing both of her friends pinning over each other.)

“sorry, Y/N” kirishima apologizes, yet he doesn't see the slightest hint of discomfort. 

you laugh, smoothing your head over his head, his face practically rivals his dyed hair. “if you wanted to lay your head on my lap, you could’ve said so, cutie.”

wait.. so does that mean you like him too? 

mina couldn’t contain herself, as seeing the heavens as y’all interact. rip 

togata mirio

shy? that’s so funny. 

is that a thing with mirio togata? this is the same man that fought class 1-A butt ass naked. 

there’s no shame detected in his bloodstream. more like.. he just knows how to hide it well.

nejire dared him to lay his head on your lap, because she wanted the both of you to just “get together already!!” 

and she also wanted to see your reaction.

tamaki’s just like “uh.. won’t Y/N spontaneously combust though?” 

mirio legit has no shame, this guy is the sole definition of ‘where’s my hug at?’

would not care about the location because a dare is a dare. the next time he sees you sitting outside of school hours

he’s sitting on that lap. end of the discussion.

you’re sitting on the couch of the dorm’s common room, and you’re just waiting for a text from nejire and tamaki 

(since you and mirio aren’t classmates with tamaki and nejire, you guys try to meet up with each other as much as y’all can.)

mirio walks into the common room, and he’s glad to see you just sitting there. 

now would be a good time!

calling your name out cheerfully, he approaches you-”Y/N, hi!” he grins as he approaches you, nothing seems off. 

“hi mirio- wait,” your greeting is cut off short when he sets his head on your lap, humming immediately as he savors the pleasant feeling. 

“w-what’re you doing?” 

“laying on your lap! it’s pretty comfortable here. have i told you that yet?” 

you shake your head, experiencing a loss of words. 

he can only grin, eyes shimmering with joy- absolutely loving the expression on your face. 

“you’re too cute, mirio. if you asked me out right now, i wouldn't be too mad at the idea.”

blinking up at you, he asks “well? will you?” 

“of course.” 

nejire and tamaki’s watching the scene from outside, and tamaki had to restrain nejire from squealing too hard. 

thanks nejire :))

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading! 

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing. 

do not steal my work :))

[lemony-snickers]

listen you don't have to take it in this direction but I cannot stop thinking about the choose your own adventure style seven minutes in heaven fics from my childhood, so I would love to please request a soft drabble from "gets shoved into a closet and is a little too close for comfort" if you wouldn't mind. welcome back to tumblr. ily.

hello, my dear friend. <3

i will be honest, the thought of creating an actual CYO fic gives me a headache because... how does one come up with all the different possibilities? i can barely keep one plot thread straight, let alone half a dozen.

that said, i hope you will enjoy this mini version of a CYO (or at least my interpretation thereof). thanks for trusting me with your request, as always. <3

warning: not proofread in the slightest. wrote this on my phone between house projects.

send me a soft prompt and i’ll write a drabble

(also, shout out to @wind-becomes-lightning's fic private tutoring, which has some of the best closet kissing my little heart can handle. pls read it if you haven't, it's great.)

As you walked down the hallway, you noticed two familiar ANBU masks making their way toward you. Not at all an unfamiliar sight in the Hokage Tower, but you still felt lucky to find two of your friends together when you had the afternoon off.

You waved, ready to ask them if they'd like to accompany you for dinner later in the day when suddenly they attacked.

"What the fu--"

You didn't have a chance to complete your thought before your traitorous friends had plastered a seal over your mouth and caught you in an arm lock.

Then, all too suddenly, you were thrust into a dark room and the door slammed shut quickly behind you.

You collided with something firm, but yielding, in a tangle of limbs, your world pitched sideways and upside down as you attempted to make sense of your surroundings.

It was pitch-dark, but from the smell of floor cleaner and the sound of a metal bucket skittering across the floor, as well as the sense that wherever you were was quite small, you deduced that your supposed friends had, for some reason, shoved you into a utility closet.

Son of a bitch, you tried to say, before remembering the seal one of them had plastered over your mouth.

You reached up and ripped the paper from your lips, letting out a strangled sound of annoyance as you did so.

"Very funny, you assholes! Now let me out."

You waited for a response from beyond the door, only to startle when one came from directly next to your ear instead.

"I think they've put a silencing seal on the door, too."

You screamed, leaping up as you suddenly realized the firm, but yielding thing you'd landed on was another person's lap. You scrambled hastily to your feet, kicking buckets and tumbling what you thought was likely a mop as you made your way to standing.

"Sorry," the voice said, "I didn't mean to startle you."

You swallowed because you knew that voice and suddenly everything became much clearer.

"It's fine," you assured your companion, as you inched your way in the direction of where you thought the door was.

When you felt the knob, you gave it a futile jiggle.

"It's sealed shut."

"Yes, I'm now realizing that," you said.

Your face felt hot and clammy as sweat beaded across the back of your neck.

Murder. Murder was the only option. When you got out of this closet, you were going to--

"I take it you didn't put them up to this, then."

You swallowed, mouth suddenly incredibly dry. "N-no, I did not."

Fuck.

Of course everyone in your circle knew about your feelings for the person they'd unceremoniously shoved you into a closet with. Everyone except for the person currently shoved into the closet with you, at least.

"How long have you been in here?" you asked.

The rustling of fabric made you think they shrugged. "A while. At first, I tried to break the door down and call for help, but eventually I just decided to wait it out."

You hummed, wondering how long your friends would leave you in here. The prospect of spending time with your favorite person would normally have been enticing, but given the circumstances...

"Why do you think they shoved us in here?"

You hoped your, "I have no idea," sounded convincing enough. Because you definitely did have an idea, but you weren't about to admit it.

You sighed, resigning yourself to spending at least some amount of time in this closet and deciding you might as well make yourself comfortable. You felt around in the dark, hoping to locate a box or bucket to sit on when your hand found its way into your invisible companion's hair.

"Ahh, s-sorry!" you exclaimed, fingers trembling as you snatched them away from the soft strands.

Your answer was a chuckle followed by, "It's fine. Here."

Warm hands found yours in the darkness and you hoped they couldn't feel how clammy your palms had become. Gently, they guided your hands to what felt like a cardboard box.

When they let go, your heart sank just a fraction.

"Thanks," you said, settling yourself onto the makeshift seat.

Awkward silence reigned for far too long, but you couldn't think of anything to say to fill it.

Because somehow, "Sorry my friends shoved you into this closet with me in the hopes I would finally confess my feelings," didn't seem like a great conversation starter.

"Lovely day we're having."

You were sure they meant it as a teasing distraction, but you decided to play along, a contented smile stretching your mouth.

"Oh, I don't know. A little overcast for my tastes."

The closet filled with laughter and your heart fluttered at the sound.

"So what brings you to the Hokage Tower today? I thought you were off."

You turned toward the sound of their voice. "How did you know that?"

They cleared their throat and stammered a little, "I was just looking at the roster this morning, that's all."

Their explanation didn't sound entirely convincing, but you decided maybe it was the strange circumstances that made them sound so unsure.

"I was hoping to pick up a few extra missions in the coming weeks and wanted to get on the roster early." You snorted, "So much for that plan."

You heard your companion hum and in the restricted confines of the closet, you could almost feel the vibration of it. You took a long, slow breath that stuttered a little on the exhale, trying to calm your racing heart.

Maybe your friends had been complete assholes shoving you into a closet, but... it's not like you were getting anywhere without their intervention. You'd spent years pining, falling hopelessly and increasingly in love without so much as a whisper to the object of your affections...

"I think I know why they shoved us in here like this."

You turned toward the voice in the dark. "Oh yeah? And why's that?"

There was a subtle rustling of fabric again, and something that sounded like maybe they were scratching the back of their neck bashfully.

"I..." they started.

You turned toward them fully, knees bumping together.

"You... what?" you prodded, heart impossibly (and probably needlessly) hopeful.

Silence. And then they must have turned to face you better because suddenly it wasn't just your knees touching; their legs slotted between yours, thighs sliding against one another as they leaned close enough you could feel the warmth of their breath.

“I think,” they started, “maybe they’ve figured out how I feel about you.”

Your breath hitched a moment and then you scoffed. “How you feel about me?” Laughter bubbled in your chest. It wasn’t possible. Was it? Maybe you heard them wrong. Right?

No, you thought, you hadn’t. Then maybe…

“I think you’ve got that backward,” you said in a rush, before your brain had the good sense to intervene on behalf of logic.

You heard a sharp intake of breath followed by strange silence, and then a somewhat disbelieving, “Oh.”

Your fingers dig into your legs, clenching the fabric of your clothes.

There, you’d said it. There was no taking it back. You’d been so afraid of rejection for so long you imagined you’d regret putting words to your feelings; that you’d confess and immediately want to take it back.

Instead, you felt light. Free.

“You know that game kids sometimes play? Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

You felt your heart pound in your chest, your breaths come faster, as they leaned closer, one hand finding yours clenched in your lap.

“Y-yeah.”

The warmth of their laugh hugged over your face. “Good.”

They we’re so close now you could almost taste them. You leaned forward, anticipation building a fire in your chest.

Your noses brushed against one another and then…

Oh, their lips were so soft and warm you wanted to cry. The hand not tangling with your own found it’s way to your neck and you sighed, lips pulling into a smile even as you continued kissing.

You could stay like this forever, you could—

“Gotcha!” A chorus of voices sang in unison.

Sudden light burst across your vision and the two of you pulled away, shielding your eyes against the blinding brightness of the hallway mingled with the flash of a camera.

You blinked, taking a few seconds to realize your supposed friends were standing in the now open doorway, shit-eating grins on their faces and a camera in one hand, a quickly developing Polaroid being gently waved through the air in another.

“You assholes!”

You scrambled to your feet, venom in your veins as you prepared to lurch at them.

But a gentle hand wound its way around your wrist and you paused. Your friends grinned wider, holding the photo out to you.

You took it, admiring the happy smiles on both the faces captured in the picture, blushing when you realized how intimate the moment was.

“I—” You started.

“Thanks for the photo.” You turned to look at the person holding your hand and watched as they reached out to push the closet door closed again. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

You relished the scandalized looks on your friends faces, wiggling your fingers in a coy wave as you were once again enveloped in darkness.

“Where were we?” The question sent shivers down your spine, their mouth close to the shell of your ear.

“Right about here, I think,” you said, pulling them in for a heated kiss.

Maybe spending your day off in a utility closet wasn’t so bad after all. Especially now that you had a photo to commemorate your first kiss with the person you’d waited so long for.

[bruhstories]

Sticky, Saccharine & Sinful

Summary: Professor Jaeger asks his assistant to come over and grade some papers. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, protected sex, fingering, oral sex (female & male receiving), spanking, daddy kink, bossy Zeke, bratty Reader, tying up, bit of an age gap but no underage shit (we don’t do that here) Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: Huehuehue guess who finally wrote a daddy kink smut? Also I have looped Cherry Cola by Kuwada the entire time i wrote, proofread and formatted this bitch, I think it works with the atmosphere

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to help me grade some papers later today." Professor Jaeger pushed his glasses with his index finger as he looked up from his book.

"You got it, boss!" You nodded as you entered the staff lounge room at Stohess Uni, two cups in your hands.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Zeke?" The man sighed. “Or at least call me professor.”

"But I'm your assistant, you're my superior, that makes you my boss, boss." Sarcasm dripping down your tongue as you placed his coffee down the table. "All black, two cubes of sugar."

"Thank you. And yes, technically I am your boss, but you're, what, six years younger than me?"

"Seven and a half." You pouted.

You've been working at Stohess University for a little over a year now as Zeke Jaeger's assistant. He was the best philosophy teacher, as well as head of the department, and you nailed your internship interview, aspiring to be like him one day. He even taught you Ethics during your masters, and currently you were doing your PhD research under his coordination. The man was a genius in his field, and you didn't dare disappoint him, but your personalities always clashed. He was calm and collected, you were bubbly and all over the place. He was nice and polite, you were sarcastic and rude. Zeke knew you'd make a horrible teacher for children, but undergraduate students would adore you.

"How can you drink hot coffee in this heat wave?" You asked him as you fanned someone's epistemology essay to cool yourself off.

"It's actually been proven that warm drinks hydrate better than cold ones during summertime." He inhaled the scent of freshly brewed coffee before taking the essay out of your hand.

"Whatever you say, boss." You shrugged and gulped on your iced tea, a few glistening amber drops dripping from the corners of your mouth, down your chin and your neck. "Ah, shit." You wiped the tea with the back of your hand, not catching Zeke watching you curiously. "Why did the AC have to break down today of all days?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and immersed himself back into his book. "Oh, I hope you don't mind coming to my place to grade the papers? I don't think you'll be able to focus in this heat. Besides, I want to take a look at your latest PhD chapter." Jaeger told you absentmindedly, eyes glued to the pages in front of him.

"Sure thing–"

"Don't say it."

"Boss."

"Jesus Christ..."

You adored pissing your ex-professor off, but deep down, Zeke couldn't deny the fact that he loved the authority he had over you. You were a very alluring woman, after all, and any sane man would kill to be as close to you as he was, let alone boss you around like he did. And he had the strong feeling you acted like a brat around him on purpose. You took your leave after downing the rest of your beverage, going to the library to borrow some books for your own research.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You rang the intercom and waited for Zeke to let you inside the building, dragging your feet down the hallway, tired from carrying so much shit with you – laptop, books, essays, papers, pens and highlighters – you were a walking, talking stationery shop and one could only wonder how someone with such a petite frame was so strong. Zeke waited in the doorway and took some of your things, relieving the weight as you sighed.

"Coffee?" He guided you to his kitchen.

"Water, please." You plopped on a chair and unbuttoned the first three heart-shaped buttons of your lilac shirt, tiny beads of sweat bundled up at your collarbone.

"You sure? I'll be keeping you up all night." Jaeger laughed. He was obviously talking about the papers, but to you, the sentence had a different innuendo — not that you minded, you had your fair share of sinful fantasies with the older man. Come to think of it, you were wondering why he was single. Zeke was undoubtedly an attractive man, he could have any woman he wanted. Yet you’ve never seen him on a date, never seen a picture of a woman when you accidentally glanced at his phone, never heard him talk about a significant other.

"Hey, mind if I smoke?" You asked, noticing the ashtray on his table.

"Not at all, I'll join you." He sat opposite you, mug of coffee in his hand. You pulled out a pack of pink cigarettes from your backpack and placed one between your lips, pocketing your jeans for a lighter. His hand extended over the table, lighter in his hand, and you slightly bent your head forward, eyes glued to his. You inhaled the smoke, not breaking eye contact, and exhaled with a sigh. Something about Zeke lighting up your cigarette made your little cunt tingle.

"Thanks, boss." The corners of your lips turned into a barely visible smirk. You really, really liked to tick him off.

"Don't mention it." He told you before lighting his own cigarette. What, no comeback? No objection? "How's your paper going?"

"It's... going." You shrugged.

"You haven't written anything in your last chapter, have you?"

"No, I have," you half-whined, "it's just that I can't find my words. I think I encountered writer's block."

"'S alright, we'll figure something out." Zeke pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and dropped it on the table.

"Wow, no shit you need help, that's a lot of papers." You twirled the cigarette between your fingers before taking one final puff and crushing it in the glass ashtray.

"Told you." He picked his resting cigarette back from the ashtray. "You can do the first years."

"I'd rather do something else." You whispered to yourself, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, boss. First years, got it." Your manicured fingers pulled the stack of papers closer to you. The exams were already annotated according to subject and year and you took everything you needed before shoving them back to Zeke.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You were bored out of your mind, fiddling with the red pen in your hand and tapping your fingers on the table with no particular rhythm. It was already dark outside and you barely finished a quarter of your stack while Zeke was halfway through his.

"Could you please stop that?" He asked you without even bothering to look at you.

"Why?"

"It's annoying."

With a groan you rolled your eyes and stopped tapping your fingers, instead opting to fidget your leg, bouncing it up and down under the table. The wooden furniture shook at the movement and Zeke sighed, putting the pen down.

"I understand you're bored, but if you want to be a professor, this is part of the job description."

"I know, I know, but, like, can we take a break? Please? We've been at it for two and a half hours now and I'm just so bored." You looked at him with puppy eyes and a pout on your plump lips.

"Ugh, fine. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Got any board games?"

"Only a pack of playing cards." Zeke shrugged.

"Perfect! Literally anything is better than this. I mean look at what this kid wrote: the ship of Theseus ARE a thought experiment. Can you believe it? How can a nineteen-year-old not know proper grammar?"

"Careful, Y/N," he chuckled, "you made a pretty embarrassing error during your masters, too."

"Nooo, don't bring that up!" You got up and walked to the freezer, scanning the contents.

"Why not? It's funny."

"Yeah, for you." You rolled your eyes. "But I still proved my worth." You triumphantly told him, tongue playfully poking out of your mouth from behind the freezer door. Ugh, you were so cute, made to be ravaged. Your eyes settled on the single raspberry popsicle and you picked it up, closing back the door. "Can I have this?" Oh, he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Of course."

With Zeke's approval, you unwrapped the plastic, revealing the rose-tinted dessert, swirling your tongue around its tip. You were a sight for sore eyes, (not so) innocently licking at the popsicle, your gaze on him and his growing bulge. He didn't even bother hiding it, instead relaxing in the chair and drinking you in. It was no mistake that Zeke invited you over, and you weren't stupid enough to believe it was a mistake.

"Do you... want some?" You trailed off as the once cold dessert began melting from your hot lips.

"If you'd be so kind." He patted his lap and you accepted the invitation. His bulge was comfortably uncomfortable against your ass, and you put the popsicle onto his lips, one arm draped around his shoulder. Zeke's tongue moved languidly around the sweet snack and you leaned in, your own tongue licking both the dessert and his lips. It was sticky and saccharine and sinful, and your poor pussy couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you wanna fuck me, daddy?" You naively asked him. He wasn't surprised in the slightest by the name, already suspecting you had daddy issues, in fact counting on it.

"I very much do." His hands were already roaming your body. The popsicle was almost gone, and you deepthroated the last bit, taking the little stick out of your mouth with a pop. Finally, he crushed his lips onto yours and you could tell he had experience. You dropped the stick on the tiled floor, twisting your body to better straddle him. Zeke unbuttoned your shirt as you slowly began grinding your hips against his bulge, earning a groan from him. "Ugh, you bad girl." He threw his head back as you loosened the tie around his neck.

"Are you going to punish me?" You slowly, too slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"What’s the point of a punishment if you’re going to enjoy it?" He mused, unclasping your bra. You had goosebumps all over your skin and Zeke took one of your nipples in his hot mouth, a hand pinching your other one. You whimpered at the slight stinging sensation

"Does it m-matter if I enjoy it?" His touch became rougher, almost animalistic.

"Of course," he stopped sucking your swollen, oversensitive nipple, "otherwise you won't learn your lesson." You got up and turned around, your back against him, taking your jeans and underwear off, bending down and exposing your cunt to him. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N." Zeke shook his head, removing his own trousers.

"Allow me." You tucked your fingers behind the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down as you kneeled in front of him. His throbbing cock tapped your face after finally being unleashed from its textile cage.

"I suspected you were big, but this? This is too good." You sneered at his member, mesmerised by its size.

"Just shut up and suck it." Zeke pretty much commanded you and you wet your lips, pressing your tongue against the velvety tip. You worked your way around his shaft, enjoying this more than you should've. You pulled back, a string of saliva and precum attached to your lips as you looked up at him.

"Am I doing good, daddy?"

"So good." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head back. You eagerly sucked and slurped until he got bored of your mouth around his cock. Zeke pulled you up, spun you around and bent you over the table. He brought your wrists together and tied them up behind your back with his tie before taking a step back and admiring the view. Ass up, face down, just like he loved it. His foot pushed yours to the side, spreading your legs for him before he gave you a good slap over your ass cheeks. You shot up with a moan but his hand forced you back down against the table.

"I think I know exactly how to punish you." Zeke announced, two fingers spreading your folds as his tongue dove inside of you, lapping at your wet cunt.

"Oh, God!" You groaned in pleasure. No man has ever eaten you out like he did. Most guys did it as a chore. Zeke? He was enjoying every single bit of it, passionately fingering you, his tongue moving in ways you didn't think were possible. "Ah, fuck– so good! Daddy, please! I'm coming!"

The way he venomously laughed told you that no, you were not going to come any time soon. Just as you were about to let loose, Zeke stopped, removing his fingers, another slap on your ass. Tears pooled at your Y/E/C eyes, frustration written all over your face. "No, no, no!"

"I told you, Y/N, you're a bad, bad girl." He bent over and whispered in your ear, his cock pressing against your entrance, his hand in your hair.

"Oh, pleaseee, I need to come! Will you let me come?"

"Hm, it depends." Jaeger straightened his back, hands resting on your hips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, yes, daddy, I did! I promise I'll be good!" You tried to turn around to look at him, oblivious to what he was doing behind your back, cheeks crimson, droplets of sweat on your forehead.

"Convincing enough." He shrugged and you heard the condom snap against his cock.  Unexpectedly and without any warning, the man thrusted into your wet cunt and you, again, shot up, but he pinned you back. "Stay fucking put, you little whore." Zeke demanded and you tried, you really tried, but your body had a mind of its own. "I see you refuse to learn."

"No, no, please!" You slammed your face onto the table, squishing your cheek in the process, desperate and helpless.

"That's better." He concluded, sarcasm dripping down his tongue as he rammed his cock deeper into you. The silken walls clenched around his hard member, and he grunted, no other woman pleasing him like your tight pussy did. "You like it when I take you from behind, you filthy slut?"

"Yes– oh my God, YES!" You bucked your hips against his for more pressure and pain.

"What would my students think if they saw you getting fucked like this on their papers?"

"Ah– I don't c-care!"

"What would the headmaster say if she knew you fuck your superior and- ugh- coordinator?" Jaeger thrusted harder and faster.

"Please, Zeke-"

His hand found its way to your neck, tightly squeezing it.

"Wrong name, Y/N."

"Shit, daddy!"

"That's right, I'm your fucking daddy and hell will freeze before someone else fucking touches you!"

"Fuc-k, fuuuck!" You both howled and panted as you climaxed, your entire bodies quivering. Zeke pulled out of you, carefully removing the rubber from his cock and giving you another slap on your perky ass cheeks. You stood up, arms still tied around your back, turned on your heels and pecked him on his cheek, giggling like a schoolgirl, marvelled by the fact that he chose you over anyone else.

"You know what, Y/N? Now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go." He promised.

"I'm all yours, boss."

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The Last Goodbye (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: The second goodbye of two friends doesn’t hurt any less. The first goodbye of two lovers does hurt even more. The issue is he doesn’t want to leave, and she doesn’t want him to leave either. But will they admit it to each other? Or will they pretend that it’s okay and that he must to follow his dreams even though it hurts them both as hell.

Words: 2944

Rating: PG

Warning: a lot of heartache / memory of death / loss

Authors notes: Dear anon, thank you so much for the request. I really hope you will enjoy this. I’m not particularly happy how I wrote Tatum’s POV, but I just couldn’t think of anything else even after multiple times rereading this. Sorry if this is not what you expected.

A/N 2: Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve, I really want to improve my writing and make it even better. Also sorry for all the mistakes in my writing I hope at least it readable (couldn’t ask my husband to proofread)

Tatum stood outside Claire’s door listening to the person on another side of the phone call he just received. His heart thumped rapidly, while the words finally sank in, echoing in his head with persistent consistency. He never thought that these words, the words he wanted to hear for months now will become a burden and he will need to deal with the consequences of his earlier rush decision. The one he made even before he saw Claire... before his old, buried feelings resurfaced with a new-founded strength... before their first kiss and the last... and before he knew that she is in danger not only from some paparazzi, but in actual danger and all he could think of now was that he needed to protect her at all cost. Not to run to another part of the planet like a coward far away from her, but to stay by her side like a man.

Distantly, he could still hear Winston speaking. Heard him vaguely, describing the opportunity he will get with the transfer, but all he could think was Claire and the taste of her lips. The unforgettable taste of the peach lemonade on a summer's day. And all he could wish for was to stay only to keep her safe.

“...Are you taking me off Claire’s security detail?” Tatum finally managed to squeeze through the overexcited chattering of Winston. “No, sir. That’s... I mean...,” tried to say Tatum, but Winston interrupted him every time when he tried to say more than a couple of words. God... thought Tatum closing his eyes in irritation. This guy speaks even faster than Claire, and I thought she is a chatty one. The small momentary smile appeared on his face before quickly disappearing, when he thought of the girl he didn't want to say goodbye to... The memory of their last goodbye flashes in front of his eyes, drowning out the chatter for a while.

He steps closer to her. Her hands in his, his head bent down and he presses his lips just to the corner of her's, lingering there for a moment longer. And he knows that it’s goodbye. Wanting to be brave enough and kiss her fully. But knowing that if he would do that they both would pay the price and he wasn’t brave enough to risk her happiness. He used it all just to come here... he risked it all just to see her for the last time. So instead he hugs her firmly as if he knows that he will never come back..

The red lilies still in his hand waiting to be laid on his mother’s grave. The white roses placed on the grave of Claire’s dad. And his hands wrapped tightly around her waist, watching at two graves next to them. Two lives that were lost and he has no illusions that this will be any different. Her face is buried in the crook of his neck, feeling how she crumbled in his arms, and her body shook with tears. Wishing to be brave enough to stay. Wishing to keep the promise, he never made.

“That’s great. Thank you,” said Tatum absentmindedly pulled back from the memory, knowing that there is no point to argue. Hoping that Claire will be able to change their mind, if she will want him to stay... that’s it... thought Tatum, if she would want him to stay. 

He sighed, pressing his forehead to the wooden door before softly tapping at it and entering her bedroom with a heavy heart, feeling as if it would break in half from a single sight of Claire. So instead he lowers his gaze at the floor, not able to meet hers, knowing that she would see straight through his stoic facade in a matter of seconds.

“Come to say goodbye?” said Claire, and he could hear the hurt and pain in her voice, that she desperately tried to hide, but it was so evident in her eyes that he couldn’t miss it, when he looked up.

“How did you...?” asked Tatum, the shock clearly written on his face, while his heart skipped a beat.

“If you don't want me to hear your private phone calls, don’t take them right outside,” Claire said, averting his piercing gaze.

“It wasn’t private. I had no idea Winston was planning a reassignment for me,” confessed Tatum. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t a truth, at least not the whole one. He should have told her before, should have confessed how desperately, the first two weeks, he wanted to go back. He hated it here at first, but then... but then that damn almost a kiss, the slightest press of her lips to the corner of his, after he walked her back to the State Dinner at Dionne’s Estate, and he knew that he was a goner. And he also knew that the look of pain, and loss, and fear would have broken him. The fear he saw before, five years ago. The fear of losing him as she did her father... the same as he did his mom.

“Do you think someone found out about us?” The question breaks through his thoughts making him snap to reality.

“As far as I’m aware, no one knows,” said he, musing if that is why they were sending him away, but quickly shaking this thought off. She doesn’t know about the reassignment request, reminds he himself. And he knows despite everything that he deserved the promotion. The issue is... he doesn’t want it anymore. The silence hangs between them, after he finally speaks, confessing that he requested it a month ago, and it hurt as hell, when he looked into her eyes, the moment after confession.

“Are you that unhappy as my head of security?” asked Claire, the hurt in her eyes deepens even more, making them look like pools of dark chocolate with shots of aged intoxicating whiskey.

“I’m not unhappy, Claire. I filed that request back when I was first assigned here, back when all I could think about was returning to the military career I’d worked so hard for.” sighed Tatum, wondering when was the exact moment when his dreams have changed, when the young boy finally grew up leaving behind his dream. Wondering when he realised that this is exactly the place where he wants to be. His eyes meeting Claire’s looking how realisation downs on her and her eyes softens, becoming a tiny shade lighter than they were before, but her words aren’t what he expected to hear and they are a complete opposite from what he wanted to say.

“And this is your chance to do that. To follow in your mom’s footsteps...,” she murmured stepping closer to him. Her eyes locked with his, mesmerising him, captivating, and he wants to scream... to tell her that this is not what he wants... not what he wishes for. At least not anymore... not after he walked into her life again. Not after she stormed into his, attacking him with the damn crown, making him pin her to the ground losing himself into her deep chocolate eyes. But he cannot say a word. His head bends slightly giving her a nod, as if admitting the lie she just said. Not a lie... but the truth, that just stopped to be it, unbeknown to her.

And instead of refuting her words, he just confirms what she feared. “They’re offering me a promotion. A big one. I didn’t expect it.”

“I guess people just don’t say ‘no’ to that sorta thing, huh?” she said. Her voice slightly cracked, but she smiled anyway even though he could catch the glimpses of glistening tears welling at the corners of her eyes, while she looked to the ground. Making him feel all the pain and all the loss she felt.

“Just a month ago this news would’ve meant everything to me. But now...”

“Now?” asked Claire. Her eyes met his, and he could swear that he could hear how her breath hitched from the intensity of his gaze and from the hope he wasn’t ready to give her.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” after a moment of silence admitted Tatum, knowing that here was no way he could hide it from her.

He could feel how his heart ached looking at Claire across the room, too far away and not too far enough to miss how her body stiffened. Knowing that she wanted to cross the room and to kiss him hard... fiercely. The same way he wanted to kiss her.

His gaze dropping to her mouth, noting how her teeth dig into her bottom lip, not missing the slightest shake in its curve, but in the midst of this, missing the most important message her eyes send him... that just like him not wanting to leave her, she didn’t want him to leave either. Both restraining themselves from saying what they really wanted.

“You should go. I want you to go,” whispered Claire in a barely audible whisper, and he could swear that he felt how his heart broke and the sound of shattering pieces deafened him with pain. She wants him to go, he thought. His fists clenching, and despite how badly it hurted he still forced himself to smile softly and to ask her the next question, as no matter what, he still cares for her deeply.

“What about you?”

“The rest of the security team will keep me safe,” she shrugged, stepping a bit closer, slowly closing the distance between them.

“CoCo...,” he muttered, also taking a step in her direction, their gazes locked, not able to look away, while he continued to speak. “I hate the thought of letting you down,” he tries again, hoping that she will ask him to stay, that she wants him to stay. Hurting so much, that he misses another glimpse of pain flashing in her eyes covered by determination just a split second later.

“You’ll only let me down if you abandon your dream career for me,” said Claire, taking another step closer.

“So... you’re saying I should go?” whispered he, another step closer to her.

“Yes. You should be keeping thousands of people safe, not just one... me,” whispered Claire. Her eyes stinging with tears, but she blinked them away. Her gaze holds his, while he finally takes a deep breath and nods, as if admitting defeat.

“Then this really is goodbye,” said Tatum, taking the last step closer to her. His heart thumping loudly, and his fingertips brushing against hers.

“Right now?” blurted Claire, and he could feel how her hands started to shake against his, just slightly, but enough for him to feel it.

“The reassignment is effective immediately. Winston’s already sent someone to cover my shift,” admitted Tatum, the pain aching in him. And he would want to look away, but he cannot force himself to do that. His eyes locked with hers, feeling enchanted by her, mesmerised. Feeling that he cannot resist her anymore... needing to kiss her for the last time.

Their hearts heavy, taking that last tiny step toward each other. Trying not to imagine anyone else standing guard outside Claire’s door... not wanting to imagine anyone else.

Feeling how his breath hitches, when Claire put her hands on his shoulder, drawing him into a kiss. He doesn’t resist, his arms circling her tightly as if holding for the dear life, not wanting to let her go.

And he kisses her softly despite the firmness of his grip. His lips flutter against Claire’s, and he pauses, raising a hand to stroke her cheek, the three little words ready to leave his lips, but he pushes them back, knowing that they would hurt them both even more.

“Just... don’t forget me,” said Claire. Her voice came rough and raw... and desperate. And he fears that she will ask him something else he cannot give her or promise, but she doesn't.

“Never did, never will,” whispered Tatum against her lips. His voice like a gentle caresses to her shredded soul... like a soft whisper of meadows on a windy day. His way to say I love you, when the words are failing him.

And he kisses her with all the passion of a man who knows he’ll never see her again. His tongue sliding against hers, trying to memorise every single thing about her. Her taste, her scent, her touch. Kissing her fierce and sloppy, hard and rough. The way it would hurt and bruise her soft lips. The way it will make her remember him and never forget. The selfish kiss of a man who dies. The last kiss of the man who lives. And he could feel the taste of salt blossoming across their tongues, the mix of his and hers. Not able to tell for certain which of them shed the first tear.

Claire’s arms wrap around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, while he squeezes her lower back desperately, pressing her body as close as possible.

Finally, he pulls away, trailing his hands along her sides as he reluctantly releases her. Trying to memorise her every curve. To remember her every dip. His heart aching knowing that this is goodbye. Not knowing if he would ever come back or will he be brought in a metal casket with honours... but it isn’t a death he is afraid of... oh no... the fear that he has... the one that he desperately tried to push back from the moment he got off his phone call was the fear that something will happen with her and he wouldn’t be here to protect her. The same way as he wasn’t there during her first attack near the lake.

Finally Tatum takes a step back. His stoic expression belying the sadness Claire sees in his eyes. The sadness and fear, but in the midst of this she still misses the most important message in his eyes: he doesn’t want to leave her...

“Well... I guess I should be going. Paperwork to file and all that,” finally said Tatum with a sigh, reluctantly walking to the door, when he turns to her for the last time, watching how the last drop of tear falling from her eyelashes.

“Yeah. I’ll... see you around,” finally whispered Claire.

He opens his mouth to respond... wanting to tell her that it's unlikely, but he closes it before resolutely walking out of her room without another glance... knowing that if he will look back, he may never leave. His heart aching, and his pulse thumping loudly.

And he does not look back as the sight of her standing like that is achingly familiar and he knows that the single look at her will hurt as nothing else did. He saw her like that, all these five years ago. Him walking away, while she stood at his mother’s grave, looking at him with the teary smile, watching him to walk away from her life as he was doing now. Hoping against the hope that he will be lucky again. Her hands wrapped around her waist, wishing it didn't hurt so much this time. But it did hurt the hell even more.

The next day, it didn’t hurt any less. His every movement was followed by the memory of her tears and the pain he saw in her eyes the second before turning to leave her bedroom. So opposite of the picture of her hidden in the depth of his duffel bag, the one that will accompany him wherever he will be sent. The chocolate eyes with the wrinkles of laugh around them and the teasing smile forever captured on the white paper, so opposite from tears and pain in her eyes that will be ached in his memory.

He numbly took his duffel bag checking his carefully hidden treasure before walking to meet with his commanding officer in Dean’s office. His thoughts solely on Claire, while he listened to his orders. The tears in her eyes and the shake in her fingers. The way she looked at him. And the way she kissed him, while he kissed her in return. The soft caresses of their lips before turning into inferno.

He hoped, while on his way to Vancross's private airport, that when the reality will settle down it will hurt a little bit less and that he will be okay... that she will be okay. But it still hurt the same. And he knew that no matter how long time will pass it still will hurt the same, no less… probably even more.

His heart thumping loudly, singing a sad melody, while the image of her following his every move throughout the airport. Her eyes, the colour of the warm coffee and childhood memories. Her soft lips, that always taste like a peach lemonade on a hot summer day. Her smile, the one that warms him every time, whenever it reaches her eyes. And her voice, the telltale melody of her emotions storming inside of her. The one way of telling how she really feels. And the one that he can hear even now calling for him, with the notes of panic and hope colouring it.

His steps falter just slightly, while he walks to the gate, reliving the events of the past month. Their first meeting and their goodbye... their first kiss and their last... their scandal and their escape. And the way she didn’t wanted him to get hurt, same way as he would do anything to keep her safe.

He shakes his head, when he hears her again calling for him in desperation, piercing through his fogged mind, reaching out for him. And he is almost sure that he hears things, until he hears his name called for a third time.

“Tatum wait!” He hears, and he stops dead, slowly turning to face Claire.

Tagging: @choices-bound​​​​ @jamespotterthefirst​​​​ @mercury84choices​​​​ @k2624​​​​ @thefrenchiemama​ @choicesreal​​​​ @starrystarrytrouble​​​​ @boneandfur​​​​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​​​​ @sophxwithers​​​​ @ramseysrookiex​ @suitfer

[staarshines]

Broken: Chapter 2 || A.H.

Warnings: spoilers for s9e5 (but this is an og case i wrote up), getting tortured physically (stabbing, punching), blood, blood loss, bloodstains, mental torture, extreme feelings of guilt, being duct taped down in a chair, mentions of knives, mentions of other victims

WC: 2.8k

You try to tell the team you know where the unsub is, but Hotch blows you off. Angry, you go to the location where the unsub is holding a hostage to prove yourself, but you forget about the consequences of facing a murderer alone.

[A/N]: lmfao i’m sorry for all the cliffhangers guys also i’ve proofread this like 10 times there’s no mistake in the plot/description (*cough* wedding band *cough*)

The sound of radio chatter, police cars, and the rustling of trees in the wind is overwhelming, but Aaron Hotchner is in his own world. 

How could I just have let her go? No, I didn’t let her go, I told her to go. This is my fault. She’s going through who knows what right now because of me. If I had only listened…

“Hotch? Are you okay?” He snaps out of his guilty thoughts, looking at Emily.

“What did you find?” he asks, ignoring her question. They had been here hours; J.J., Reid, and Morgan had left to the P.D. to see if they could find any other clues. She understands that he’s dodging her question and doesn’t push.

“CSI found some fibers in the shaft, but we have to run them through forensics.”

“Call J.J. and tell her to tell forensics that an agent’s life depends on this sample. They need to rush it.”

“On it.” He swallows and looks around, disappointed when he checks his watch. 3:47. The sun would set in another couple of hours, and you would be subjected to continual torture through while they tried to figure out where you were. Nobody was sleeping tonight; not until they found you.

“Hotch, this isn’t your fault,” Rossi starts, approaching him. The younger man shakes his head. 

“I thought we agreed not to profile each other.” 

Rossi sighs. “We’ll find her. She’s a smart girl; she knows how to stay alive,” he tries to reassure. It doesn’t work, not in the slightest.

“Yeah, but for how long? I’m the reason she’s in his hands. If I had went with her, sent someone with her, hell, if I had even told her not to go, she’d be here, safe.” With me. 

A sharp jab to your left shoulder wakes you up, gasping for air. Your eyes fall to your left, where a knife is sticking out of your flesh. Your torso is bound to the back of a chair with duct tape, your feet taped to the chair legs and hands to the armrests. You try moving the chair with your body weight, but the chair is bolted. 

Eyesight blurring, you try to get a feel for where you are and notice that you’re in a room full of bloodstains and tables of torture equipment. This must have been where Giles held his other victims. Victims. The word makes your jaw clench. You wouldn’t be one of his. You couldn’t be.

“Good afternoon,” he says in a singsongy voice, entering the room. Your shoulders tense up at the sight of him. 

“Where am I?” You ask, not returning his greeting. He picks up a knife and inspects it, the silence killing you. “Twenty-Six Oh-One Noble Drive?” He freezes for a split second, and you know you have him. That was the second address on that piece of paper. The team had him now. But where had you dropped it? Was it still on you? Did Reid see it back at the P.D.? You furrow your brows as you try to remember, and then it comes to you. 

You left it in the SUV. 

Now, the question was who had driven the car back. Anyone from your team would notice it and find the second address, but the police would just bag it as evidence. Connor turns around, a smug smile on his face. You can tell from his rigid posture and clenched jaw that he’s not relaxed, although he’s trying to control his body language to look like it. 

“Mind games now? Is that what they teach you at the F.B.I.?” You roll your eyes, ignoring the knife in his hand. 

“It’s called behavioral analysis, genius.” He smiles and approaches you, caressing your cheek with the cold metal. 

You don’t even flinch.

“And behavioral analysis is supposed to catch killers while saving the agents?” He lets out a low chuckle. “That didn’t seem to work for you. Or Agent Hotchner, for that matter.” You bite your tongue. Hotch? Was he okay? What did this idiot mean?

“Hotch? Please, he stares into the face of death every day and wins.” He shakes his head.

“Well, today was an exception.” Today. That means you haven’t been out for long. What time was it?

“An exception?” you question, starting to worry.

“He’s dead.” You laugh for the first time since the team had taken this case.

“Aaron Hotchner? Dead? You really didn’t do your homework, did you?” you ask him, trying to control your laughter.

“If Aaron isn’t dead, then whose is this?” He holds up a silver wedding band and your bottom lip parts ever so slightly, breathing quickening. That looked exactly like Aaron’s. It had to be his; he would still wear it after Haley’s death, idly fiddling around with it when he was in deep thought. He never thought anyone noticed, but you did. 

“How the hell did you get your hands on that?”

“And what about this?” Ignoring your question, he walks behind you and comes back with a laptop. He opens it and clicks the play button on a video of J.J.

“Ma’am, ma’am! How invested would you say the team is in this case? Six bodies have already been discovered and the killer hasn’t been caught. Rumor is he has one of your agents,” one of the reporters calls out. She freezes for the slightest second, and you can see the fire in her eyes. 

“We had one of our own taken from us today, so I’d say we’re very invested,” she nearly yells in disbelief, eyebrows scrunched. “No further questions.” Taken from us? Fuck, did she mean you or Hotch?

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish?” You ask him, trying to sway the subject away from Hotch. The team thought the entire thing was physical torture. This is something else. He wouldn’t waste precious time telling you Hotch was dead.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be asking questions, sweetheart.”

“And I don’t think you’re in the position to be holding me hostage as the F.B.I. and Tallahassee’s entire police department look for me,” you mock. He just shakes his head, rolling up his sleeves. 

“Aaron Hotchner is dead, and it’s all your fault.” You raise an eyebrow, but your gut is twisting. Hang on, you don’t even know if he’s dead or not. But you saw the ring and watched the video. He’s gone, because of you. 

No, he’s not. 

You start to overthink, resisting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut.

“I want proof, Giles,” you snap. “I want cold, hard evidence that he’s not alive.” He shrugs. “If you say so yourself.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. You frown, trying to figure out what he was doing.

“Tallahassee’s anonymous tip hotline.” A woman answers. Well, she had no idea what she was in for.

“I’d like to speak with Jennifer Jareau, the B.A.U.’s communications liaison.” She hesitates.

“May I ask who this is?” 

“Jennifer Jareau, or this agent dies,” he answers, looking at you. You hear her call J.J. over and she’s there in seconds. You can only imagine the team’s condition right now. 

J.J. would be trying to calm everyone down. Morgan would be on the verge of snapping. Reid would’ve lost himself in the evidence. Emily would be panicking on the inside. Rossi would be trying to push the possible outcomes out of his head focusing on the profile, nothing else. Hotch— You swallow thickly.

“Hello? Who is this?” He puts the phone to your mouth. 

“J.J.?” you whisper.

“Oh my God. Where the hell are you?” You ignore her question.

“Where’s Hotch?” you ask in a panic.

“Um, he— he’s not here right now. Why?” Her hesitation is enough for you. 

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“What do you mean? I need you to tell me where you are. Hotch is—” He ends the call, slipping the phone back in his pocket.

“Is that enough for you?” You don’t answer, not being able to comprehend that he was actually gone. He leans into your ear and whispers, “You loved him, and now he’s dead. Not to mention it’s all your fault.” He withdraws, leaving the room. A single tear falls down your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Aaron.”

Hotch nearly slams open the door to the conference room, Prentiss and Rossi on his heels.

“We came as fast as we could. What did you find?” 

“Giles called us,” Morgan starts.

“And we weren’t here,” Rossi mutters, clenching his jaw. “Play the tape.” J.J. side-eyes Spencer and Morgan. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Emily’s voice rises a pitch.

“The tape is… confusing at first.”

“Play it.” J.J. sighs, pressing the play button. Your dry, panicked voice comes through the speakers. Hotch inhales and closes his eyes, hoping, praying that he wouldn’t have to listen to you be tortured. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding until the tape was over.

“Wait, does she think Hotch is dead?” Prentiss asks, not understanding. Morgan shakes his head. Hotch bites his lip and opens his eyes.

“J.J. didn’t say anything that pointed to that.” 

“But Emily is right,” Reid interjects.

“What’s this supposed to mean, then?” Emily inquires, resting her weight on the wall.

“The unsub is telling us something we didn’t know about him before; that he mentally tortures his victims before he does so physically. In her case, it’s getting her to think that, well, you’re dead,” Reid answers, looking at Hotch. Hotch purses his lips.

“She mistook your confusion for hesitation,” Hotch concludes, looking at J.J. She frowns.

“But she’s a profiler; she doesn’t slip up like that. Plus, she knows us, which makes differentiating our emotions a lot easier.”

“We don’t know what her physical or mental state is,” Rossi adds. “A couple hits to the head and she wouldn’t be able to think or profile like she normally does.”

“J.J., this isn’t your fault,” Emily tells her. She nods with a forced smile but doesn’t believe it.

“But why would that hurt her any more than it would hurt her to think anyone else on the team was dead? Was it just easier to fabricate mine?” The tension in the room returns, and Hotch looks around. “What?” The truth was, he knew why. She had a liking for him, but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t hopeful thinking getting to him.

“Hotch, she…” J.J. doesn’t know how to continue.

“She has the hots for you,” Morgan finishes. 

“She’s… She’s liked you for a while. The so called flirting didn’t go unnoticed, especially in a room full of profilers,” Emily’s voice strains.

“It wasn’t really flirting, it was more making sure you were alright. That’s her love language. It’s funny because our love language is what we were deprived of in our childhood. She’d do your paperwork when you had to take care of Jack, make sure you were eating, sleeping, checked in on you frequently after Haley, drove you back and forth after Foyet… Hotch, it’s all there,” Reid explains gently. Hotch sighs unsure of what to do for once.

“We need to go back over the evidence. There has to be some indication of where Giles went, even if he doesn’t have any paper trail. Get Garcia to go over everything again.” The team nods solemnly and files out, leaving Hotch and Rossi. Rossi puts his hand on the Hotch’s shoulder.

“Your ‘flirting’ didn’t go unnoticed either.”

Another blow to the chest leaves you gasping for air, your vision blurring. The three stab wounds in your thighs aren’t assisting your efforts to keep yourself awake.

“Is that all you’ve got?” You ask him, tiredly cocking your head to the side. You had vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t give him the fear that he needed to get off and dispose of you.

“Oh no darling, I’m just getting started.” Another punch to the face and you hear your jaw pop out of place before you feel it do so, inhaling shakily. Pain blooms from various different points on your body. It had to have been hours. Where the hell was the team?

“My team—” One more to the stomach and you groan, nearly blacking out. 

“You and your pretty little team. They’ve already lost their supervisor. How well do you think they’re faring right now?” You take in raggedy breaths, trying to keep your eyes open.

“They won’t leave you standing,” you spit out. He grins and yanks your hair back, your vision going black. The last thing you hear is:

“They need to find me first.”

Sixteen hours. That’s how long you had been gone. How long you’d been subjected to endless torture. 

How long everyone on the team had tried to keep the thoughts of you being tortured out of their heads. 

How long Hotch had tried to hold his emotions in. But he was barely doing so, knowing that it was a game of chance about whether or not he would ever get to tell you that he loved you.

“This isn’t working,” Morgan groans, throwing a file on the table. The entire P.D. was deserted except for the B.A.U. “It’s three A.M., and where are we? Nowhere. We have nothing.” He gets up from the table, putting his hands on his head in defeat. Everyone was exhausted, but nobody was willing to go to the hotel and sleep. The team wouldn’t be able to survive without your bubbly laughter, cocky remarks, and sharp mind; everyone knew that. 

“Have we been over everything?” Garcia asks through the computer in a sleepy voice.

“Everything. Every shred of evidence that we have from this case,” J.J. sighs in disappointment, holding her head in her hands. Hotch absentmindedly fiddles with his wedding band.

“You guys need to sleep. Wake up fresh tomorrow, well, today, and work the case,” Garcia starts, but Emily cuts her off.

“We all know nobody’s sleeping until we find her.” The team nods and sighs in agreement. J.J. furrows her brows, eyes falling on Reid.

“He’s been standing still there for a full ten minutes just staring at the board. Is he okay?”

“More importantly, is his CPU dead?” Prentiss asks, smirking.

“Let the genius work his brain. He’ll come up with something sooner or later,” Derek murmurs, still pissed off at the lack of leads.

“I got it!” Spencer yells, startling the entire team. Hotch snaps out of it and Rossi nearly jumps out of his seat.

“That timing was impeccable, kid,” Rossi admits, massaging his temples. The entire team shares a laugh, barring Hotch and Reid, while Reid looks around, confused. Shaking his head and realizing he missed whatever it was they were laughing about, he begins to unravel his genius.

“Hotch, where’s that piece of paper she was talking about in the morning?” Hotch shakes his head, trying to remember.

“Um, I don’t know, I think she took it with her.” Reid nearly runs from the glass whiteboard to the evidence boxes, rummaging around in them. Morgan and Prentiss join him, knowing exactly what he was looking for. 

“Reid, what are you getting at?” Derek asks, looking through the boxes for that piece of paper. 

“I didn’t get to read it, but there was another address on the back of the paper.” The entire team goes silent for a moment, then “organized chaos”, as you had once memorably described the team’s dynamic as, ensues.

“Rossi, you’re coming with me. Reid and J.J., and Morgan and Prentiss. Have Garcia send the addresses to the GPSes. We’re going in soft without SWAT or the P.D. Comms on, and there’s no need to use sirens. Vests are in the trunks. Let’s go!” Hotch yells at the team, grabbing a set of keys and sprinting out the door, Rossi in pursuit.

“I found the paper! Garcia, Twenty-Six Oh-One Noble Drive!” Prentiss shouts, pulling it out of the plastic bag and reading off of it. 

“Done, done, and done. That’s a five minute drive from here.”

“Oh, I love you so much babygirl.” Garcia smirks at Morgan’s remark.

“Go save our girl.” The transmission ends, and everyone is out of the P.D. in less than thirty seconds. Hotch’s heart is beating so hard that it’s the only thing he can hear. 

Were they just in time, or were they too late?

Masterlist

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