#but she's the key to cracking the whole case

[leiascully]

Rewatching Pilot and realizing how red Karen Swenson's hair is and something something Karen-Billy-Theresa/Scully-Mulder-Samantha parallels. It's not a fully formed thought. But there's something.

#the x-files #yes i know they end up married #tell me that samantha isn't the great love of mulder's life before scully #no one ever said the man was modeling or modeled healthy relationships #at first glance they look like a naive victim a pawn/perpetrator and the heir to a crime who learned too much and couldn't be tolerated #but they're really all victims #the adults around them are the perpetrators #as if anyone would have believed theresa if she'd revealed what she suspected #and then scully with the same marks as karen (almost) #billy woken from his long sleep to a world in which he's both a bad guy and an innocent (oh hello mulder-style baggage) #and theresa spirited away from her conspirator parents in order to protect her #damn after 30 years i'm still seeing something new #oh AND #karen seems like a silent victim #but she's the key to cracking the whole case #meanwhile scully is supposed to be a spy/mole and ends up as mulder's greatest ally #and karen sees billy for who he is - she knows him

[sunnyskiesscareme]

My Heart’s Racing, and it isn’t the Exercise

Luke Hughes x reader

Summary: Luke Hughes has a gym crush, and his brother wants a sister in law

Warnings: there’s a reference to like… dropping a weight on his head to induce memory loss, you’ll understand if you read it 😭 other than that, nothing!! (Unless u include Luke embarrassing himself but that’s just cuz he’s a cutie patootie)

Notes: I’m so sorry I’ve barely posted!! Uni is kicking my ass. Still, I appreciate all the support on my previous fics!! Y’all are so kind!! Also, a lil reference to the readers job as a hairdresser

Luke was sure that if y/n wasn’t here, he’d cry.

He had explicitly told his brother that he needed to be at the gym within 10am-11:30am, and no later. He hadn’t told him why, exactly, but he thought he made himself pretty clear anyhow. It wasn’t like Jack to be late to anything, but Jack had expressed that he believed you couldn’t be late to the gym in the first place. To him, it was a personal pleasure. Luke would have agreed if it weren’t for the girl with the strict schedule, who went everyday, at the same time, with no exceptions.

He couldn’t explain that to Jack without the certainty of him telling the whole Devil’s team about his little crush, and suddenly the chirping would go beyond anything he’d ever live down. So instead, when Jack would roll his eyes at his brother with a comment about being uptight, Luke would bite back with a reminder that Jack had assigned certain coats to certain hooks in the entrance way. Surely, Luke was not the uptight one in that apartment.

Jack had only hurried things up when his brother threatened to leave without him, jingling his keys and walking to the door with exaggerated stomps. Still, they had only left the house at 10:41, and for reasons unbeknownst to Jack, Luke had refused to switch to the gym nearest their building. It was 10:53 when they got there, and Luke ignored his brothers scolds for his crooked parking job, rushing to check who was at the girl’s favourite machine. It was then that Luke realized he had never learned her name. Had she ever even had a full conversation with him?

She was there, in all of her beauty, but Luke didn’t crack a smile. Instead, he walked over to the chest press for his warmup as if he had never seen her. His sudden stop-and-stare session did not go unnoticed by his brother, who not so subtly squinted his eyes in her direction, trying to find what had his little brother so dazed. His eyes flickered to the dejected look on his face, back to the girl, and then to the foot that Luke was subconsciously tapping. A knowing grin grew on Jack's face before he wiped it off with the back of his hand, wringing his wrist out in an act of preparation for his dead-lift warmup. He halted when he began to pass by Luke, stomping his foot on the ground exaggeratingly as he turned to his brother.

"Luke, Luke," Jack said, bending down to reach ear level with him. "You see that girl over there? The one on the, uh, the walking thingy?"

"The elliptical." Luke corrected, a little bit too fast. He’d learned the name of the machine a while ago, just in case he needed it one day.

"Yeah, whatever. She's real pretty, huh?"

Luke's eyes met Jack's so fast it hurt, and he blinked a couple of times to make the room stop spinning. His knuckles turned white at the grip he had on the bars of the machine, despite having paused the lifting to speak to his brother. "What- why?"

"I think I’m gonna ask her out."

"No!" Luke yelped, and those in the gym who weren't wearing headphones or struggling to breathe with the intensity of their workout glanced over at him curiously. His cheeks burned bright red, and Jack had to repress a smirk. "She’s," he shook his head, "She's not even your type."

“What? Of course she is. You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“She’s-!” Luke started, chest puffed up and eyes wide as he went to defend the girl. That was, until the smile on his brothers face looked a little bit too evil to be classified as adoring, and Luke squinted his eyes at him. “What are you trying to do here?”

Jack let out a girlish giggle and gave him a smack to his knee. “I think you think she’s pretty!”

“Shut up!” He wacked his brother right back.

“I think you’ve beaten me to her!”

“Jack, stop.” Luke begged, gripping his brothers wrist strongly enough for Jack to wince, his eyes wide as saucers.

Jack snickered, wringing out his wrist. He glanced back at the girl, whose machine beeped as she finished her cool down. “C’mon! She’s done. Go talk to her!”

“What? No!” Luke refused, his voice much quieter and harsher than his brothers. “No, she’s leaving anyway.”

Jack glanced at the girl again, who had finally stepped off of the machine and stood in front of a window. Her silhouette was black as she tipped her head towards the ceiling to chug down some water. He looked back at Luke. “I don’t think so… looks like she’s just having a drink before her next workout.”

“No.” Luke shook his head, certainty in his movements. “It’s 11:30. This is when she leaves.”

Luke seemed to have not realized the weight his words held before he said them, and quickly made himself busy with his machine before Jack’s head jerked foreword, his jaw dropped far enough that if he had dared to look, Luke would be able to count all of his teeth.

“Woah, woah, wait a minute!” He said, stepping in front of his little brother so that he had no casual excuse for avoiding his gaze. “Is this why you’ve been whining every day about when we get here?”

Luke cringed, ending his first rep early to stick an earbud in his ear. “I’m working out. Can’t hear ya.”

“Oh my god!” Jack gaped, yanking the earbud back out. “This is why I have to go to a gym 15 minutes away from my apartment- that has a gym in the building?”

“It’s only 10, don’t be such a baby.” Luke groaned, seeing no point in trying to hide his little secret any longer.

“Oh my god. Luke, I’m being serious right now, if you don’t go talk to her- I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

Luke’s eyes worriedly flicked back to where she stood before, but let out a breath when she wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t know wether it was of relief or disappointment, but he forced himself not to dwell on the weird feeling in his chest. “She’s… She’s gone anyways.”

Jacks head whipped to the window and then back to his brother so fast that Luke was surprised he wasn’t in pain. He quickly promised himself he’d give him pain if he looked at him like that any longer- his brows slightly furrowed, eyes more pitiful than annoyed. Jack let out a soft huff. “Next time then.”

---

Jack was ready before Luke was the next morning, bouncing on the balls of his feet on the mat in front of the door. Luke walked sluggishly, something he hadn’t done since he had first seen her. He was sure this would be the last day at her gym- certain he’d be too humiliated to return.

“Could you wipe that look off your face, please?” Luke asked, annoyed.

His grin only grew, flashing his recently fixed straight white teeth. “Why would I? Todays the day- Lukey Boy is getting a girlfriend!”

Luke rolled his eyes.

The 10 minute car ride was mostly silent. To Jack, it had felt like the longest ride he’d ever taken, even with all of the complaints he’d given about the length of the drive in the past. This was most certainly the worst of them all. To Luke, it had been the shortest. He’d listed multiple plans for certain scenarios in his head, noting that if he really needed to, there were weights near the elliptical she used that he could drop on his head if he needed to forget he’d ever seen her. Maybe his brother would feel bad enough to never bring it up again. He planned to run a few fast miles on a treadmill beforehand, so that he could build up some adrenaline, and blame his red face on the exercise.

Jack walked in with a pep in his step, only stopping when his brother suddenly grabbed his wrist. His face was white and his eyes wide, and Jack had never seen him so scared to talk to a girl before. “She’s gonna think I’m a creep.”

“No she won’t! Just… don’t be a creep, and you’ll be fine.”

Luke releases his brothers wrist to run a stressed hand down his face. “I hate you.”

“Luke, it’s gonna be fine, I’m telling you.” Jack tried to reason. He sent him a funny smile, “Plus, you’re in the NHL. what girl would say no to that?”

Luke didn’t laugh, and Jack licked his lip awkwardly. “Buddy, just do it. There’s no use comforting you now- she hasn’t even rejected you yet!”

“Yet!”

“No!” Jack gripped Luke’s shoulders tightly. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Now go. Now. It’s time.”

Luke almost tripped, his feet too nervous to react to the push his brother gave him. He prayed that it was too bright outside to see the reflection in the window her machine overlooked, and that she didn’t see any of that. He stood awkwardly a safe distance away from her, looking back at his brother who gave him a not-so-subtle thumbs up.

She was changing the song coming through her headphones when she felt the presence of someone next to her. She turned, startled when someone was actually there. He was tall, but had a young, sweet face. His hair was long enough for him to have to push behind his ear and she could imagine him hating it. Most people with curly or wavy hair did, she had learned from work, but his was her favourite texture to cut and work with. She’d recognized him well. He seemed to have a similar schedule to her, and she had used him as proof to her friends that she wasn’t uptight. He was too handsome to look at, she had decided one day. She couldn’t afford a gym crush, not when she was doing so well with her gym streak. It would complicate things. She flicked an earbud out, giving him a friendly, but curious smile.

“Hi.” He said, the word breathy.

“Hi.” She said back with a slight chuckle. “Did you need something?”

“Oh! Sorry, uh,” she didn’t notice Jack watching them, cringing at the way his brother stuttered. “I was wondering… if I could use that machine.”

She blinked at him, eyes flickering to the 3 other ellipticals lining the large window, still and unused. She nodded anyway. “Uh, yeah! Sure!” She said, stepping off and beside the guy, who looked much taller from the new angle. “Are, are the other ones not working?”

“Uh-“

“Nope!” She jumped at the loud voice behind her, looking right in time for her to miss how Jack stepped on the machines cord, unplugging it. He smacked his hand on the buttons exaggeratedly, proving to her that it wouldn’t turn on.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’ve been hogging the only working one, haven’t I?”

“No, no! You’re okay. Uh, I just, um-“

“My brother thinks you’re pretty!” Jack blurted out, cutting off his stuttering.

Luke looked mortified, shoulders curling in on himself. Y/n reddened, her lips unintentionally curling up into a giddy smile. “Oh! Thank you!” She let out a nervous chuckle. “Um, you’re his brother?”

“I’m so sorry.” He said instead of answering, and she hoped he didn’t look so sick because his brother lied.

“Don’t be! I’m,” she let out another nervous chuckle, “I’m very flattered.”

“You should let him buy you a smoothie from the drink bar.” Jack suggested, grinning wildly. Y/n felt brave under his enthusiasm.

“Jack!” Luke pleaded, fists balled up.

“He doesn’t have to pay.” She said, and she smiled awkwardly at their intense gazes. “Uh, I mean… are you thirsty?”

“You want to get a smoothie with me?”

“Well, sure! Only if you tell me your name though.” She giggled

He looked at her, his gaping lips turning up into a smile. “Luke.”

Luke had never loved his brother more. He hadn’t listened as he came up with some excuse for leaving the two of them alone. Something about already having water or having to get his workout in while he could, Luke assumed. He didn’t really care. He had imagined a million ways his day could go, and he had somehow lived the one he didn’t think would ever happen. He smiled at her, panicking when she began to reach for the pack she had around her waist. “I’ll pay!”

She looked back up at him. “Wow! A cute boy calls me pretty and buys me a smoothie in one day? This isn’t what I imagined would happen when I walked into the gym today.” She giggled, walking with him.

“Yeah… neither did I.”

#sunnyspouts #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke Hughes x fem!reader #nhl x reader #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #nhl imagine #nhl players

[bradshawssugarbaby]

God, Your Mama and Me (Jake Seresin x Reader)

A/N: told y'all I listened to country music and it inspired me. Inspired by and quotes God, Your Mama and Me by Florida Georgia Line. I'm not religious but that song gets me all heart-eye emoji every time.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader (I'm 99% sure I kept reader GN the whole time with no mentions of appearance)

content/warnings: reference to God via the song (the line is "no one's ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me"), Jake being adorable and trying his best to be romantic but he's more awkward than he wants to be bc he doesn't do PDA, brief references to potential character death (I promise no one dies)

word count: 1.6k

Jake took you by the hand, running playfully through the sand. Coronado Beach was where he’d taken you for your first date. It was where you’d met, where you spent every free weekend, where you’d meet with his friends at The Hard Deck for drinks on Friday nights and where you’d sit and watch the planes taking off from North Island as you waited for him to come home, not knowing what each day would bring but hoping and praying he’d come home to you safe and sound every time. 

For the last three years, Coronado was an integral part of your life. It was where you’d held Jake’s 35th birthday party, a spontaneous beach gathering complete with a cooler of chilled beers and a portable speaker belting out country tunes. Despite the groans from others, the music had a magical effect on the usually reserved Jake, prompting him to join in with spirited, off-key singing every time. 

It was where you and Jake had shared your first kiss, where he’d first told you he loved you - a sentence he admitted he never thought he’d say to anyone, swearing up and down he’d lead the bachelor life until he either died or retired, whichever came first. He’d always claim it was because he just “wasn’t the settlin’ type”, but his friends always saw right through it. 

“He’s just scared,” Bradley had assured you one day over a beer while Jake tossed darts effortless at the board a few feet out of earshot. 

Reading the puzzled look on your face, Natasha hummed playfully as she sipped her drink before raising an eyebrow at you. 

“He doesn’t want to settle down because he’s scared,” She and Bradley nodded in unison. 

“Yeah, doesn’t wanna leave behind a war widow kinda thing,” Bradley shrugs, “You’d think it’d be me who feels that way considering my dad died when I was literally a toddler, but no, apparently it’s Blondie who’s got the commitment issues.”

The first time Jake referred to you as his girl, the usually chatty Bradley had been rendered speechless, mouth agape while Natasha had choked and sputtered on her beer as she looked wide eyed at Bradley and back at Jake. Jake shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but everyone, even you, knew it was uncharacteristic of him. 

The following weekend after stunning his Navy buddies, he’d been called away to the first mission since you’d started dating. You weren’t expecting it, but you got a heartfelt, emotional goodbye from Jake, one that was genuine and raw, a side of him you’d never seen before. He’d hugged you tightly and kissed you slow and sweet, making it last, permanent on your mind in case he didn’t make it back. As he promised you he’d return, you could hear his normally velvety smooth Southern drawl crack as his voice caught in his throat. 

When he came home a few weeks later, you’d greeted him with a warm embrace, and he held you tighter than he ever had before, his first true public display of affection towards you. Bradley and Natasha could be heard whispering, while Bob simply looked on smiling, knowing how in love Jake really was, watching as it mirrored Bob’s own relationship with his girlfriend. 

“Jake, where are you taking me?” 

You laughed as you snapped back to the present, raising an eyebrow at him as he continued to lead you across the sand. His cargo shorts were hugging his hips perfectly, golden-tanned skin from the California sun illuminated in the light of the setting sun. His green eyes were full of a child-like excitement, his signature grin plastered on his face, looking like it couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried.

“Just trust me, ok? You trust me, don’t ya, Sugar?”

“Alright, alright, I trust you.”

“Atta girl, c’mon, almost there.”

You shook your head and shot him a playful eyeroll as he continued to guide you along the shore. Your mind flashed back to when you and Jake had first slept together - instead of the playful arrogance, overwhelming confidence and cocky egotistical attitude he gave off around his friends, he was the opposite when it came to loving you. He was gentle, caring, passionate and considerate. He checked in with you, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it. He was selfless in the way he loved you - making sure you were taken care of in all aspects before he was, and if for whatever reason, his climax came before yours, he made a point to bring you to yours by whatever means necessary. 

When Jake asked you to move in with him, the look on your face was one of pure shock and disbelief, you were sure you were dreaming it. Your wide-eyed gaze and raised eyebrows were enough to make Jake laugh, shaking his head at you.

“Now that’s not how I thought you’d react, babe.”

“I’m sorry…I just…can you say it again?”

“Ask you again?”

“Yeah, please?”

“Ok, Sugar, you’re losin’ it, but sure, I want you to move in with me, that sound alright to ya? We both complain we don’t see each other enough, and well, I just feel like it’s time we do somethin’ ‘bout it, right?”

You nodded your head and simply threw your arms around him, letting Jake embrace you tightly as he kissed your cheek. He had his friends help you pack and by the end of that week, you were moved in with him, sharing the little house on base together. His Cowboys jersey hanging in the closet next to your Commanders one - your teams were bitter rivals, and Bradley, who had come from Virginia, your home state, was beyond shocked to see Jake allowing you to wear a Commanders jersey to their Sunday night football watch parties. Bradley, forced to wear a jersey for another team, pouted at Jake.

“How come when I wear my Commanders jersey, I get told to fuck off and stay outside?”

“You don’t look cute in Washington’s colours, Bradshaw,” Jake replied matter of factly as he kissed you on the cheek, leaving Bradley to pout once again.

Jake stopped in front of you, turning his body to face you, bringing you back to reality for another moment. His unwavering grin still on his face, smiling at you as if you were the only sight around him for miles. Your heart melted when he looked at you - it always did - the love he had for you was always evident on his face, his gaze full of admiration and affection for you.

Your eyes widened as Jake went down on one knee in front of you. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sandy coast echoing softly around you. The odd passerby gawking as they went for their stroll in the dusky glow of the beach as the sun began to set on Coronado. Jake beamed up at you from where he stood on bended knee, his eyes matching the seafoam that was pooling around you, inching closer and closer to where you stood. 

“Darlin’, remember that date I took ya on, where you made me dance with ya on the beach, after I swore I never would? That song you made me dance to, the one by Florida Georgia Line?”

“I remember,” you said, gazing at him with tear soaked eyes.

“Sugar, you know I’m not good at this kinda stuff - it’s more Bradley’s thing, being all sentimental and shit, but I’m gonna try my damnest, ok? You know how that song goes, “Baby you know my love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty, now until the day I die, unconditionally,”

Jake’s cheeks blushed a soft pink as he tried his best to carry the tune, serenading you by the oceanside, “then it’s like, “You know I’m always gonna be here for ya, no one’s ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me”? Guess that’s what I’m tryin’ to say here, no one on this earth is gonna be able to love you, or anyone else more than I do. I’m sure of it. I didn’t even think it was possible for me to love you as much as I do, but Baby, do I ever love you.”

“Jake,” you started, feeling yourself becoming breathless with excitement as he spoke.

“Babygirl, will you do me the greatest honor ever, and become Mrs. Seresin? I never thought I’d ever marry anyone, but I’d be a fool to not marry you, darlin’.” 

Speechless, you nodded your head quickly, unable to make any sound other than an excited squeal of delight as he slipped the ring onto your finger. As Jake stood upright, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a loving embrace, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

From behind you, you could hear familiar voices cheering - you broke the kiss and turned to see Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Natasha and Bob standing there, all beaming at you. Bradley wiped a single tear from his eye in his usual dramatic fashion, while Bob gave a proud thumbs up to Jake. A congratulatory smile formed on Natasha’s features, while Javy, Mickey and Reuben all applauded you both. You were overcome with emotion as you shared this moment with Jake and your friends. 

“You all knew?”

“Of course we knew, Jake can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Natasha grinned, shrugging her shoulders.

“I get to be best man, right?” Bradley grinned as he clapped his hand onto Jake’s shoulder in a congratulatory substitute for a hug. 

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin fic #hangman #top gun: maverick fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin x gn!reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fluff #lt. jake seresin x reader #lt. jake seresin x you #lt. jake seresin

[daceydeath]

[3:45am] - Comfort

Pairing: Chan x reader Word Count: 0.7k Genre: Smut 🔞 fluff Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, cock warming

Your phone ringing woke you up making you groggily answer pressing it to your ear.

"Baby?" Chan's voice was so soft but you could still hear it clearly crack.

"Channie? What's going on?" you mumbled blinking the sleep from your eyes.

"Need you, can I come over?" he pleaded.

"Of course you have a key you don't even need to ask" you soothed trying to keep him calm while you heard him leaving the studio "Do you want me to stay on the phone?".

"No I'll see you in a little bit" he sniffed making your heart wrench in your chest. He always had a bad habit of over working himself and this was likely no different but it broke you when he was so low. Putting the lamps in your room on you padded out to the lounge to wait, at this time of night it wouldn't take him long to get to your apartment, so you wasted time by putting the kettle on to boil and getting mugs out if he wanted hot chocolate. You heard the door open and his keys jingle against the silence of the night, then you heard a sniff and you rushed to him.

"Channie, It's going to be alright" you whispered as his tear streaked face appeared before you, pulling him into a tight hug you just stood together in the loungeroom holding each other for a while.

"Can we go to bed baby, I'm so tired I can't think" he almost sobbed into your neck.

"Course we can come on" you led him to your room and turned the lights off as he stripped down to his boxers climbing in beside you and holding you to his chest. Your thought he would be able to sleep once he was comfortable and holding you but that wasn't the case even after minutes were passing by.

"Baby?" he whimpered softly waiting to see if you were asleep his whole body tense.

"Tell me what you need Channie" you cooed kissing his cheek gently as he shifted around in the bed beside you.

"I can't turn my brain off" he was so desperately tired and stressed that he was verging on tears "I need to stop my thoughts".

"I've got you Channie, I'll take care of you" you whispered pressing you lips to his in a long languid kiss allowing him to stop you if he wanted but instead he whined against you lips. You moved to straddle him while keeping your lips connected running your fingers through his hair and down his chest to try to relax him slightly making him groan softly as you continued your movements for a few minutes, your lips and tongues still moving together in sync. You could feel his cock twitch through the layers of underwear separating you so you pressed yourself against him letting him feel your warmth on him.

"You look after me too well baby" he sighed softly getting slightly groggy as you kept him distracted from his thoughts.

"Do you want me to ride you, or do you want me to just lay on you Channie? You whispered against his lips.

"Just inside, please, need your warmth" he mumbled his eyes closed you moved off of him and pulled his boxers off before removing your own underwear. You moved to straddle him again only for him to stop you and lay you down instead moving so he was laying between your thighs with he head tucked into the crook of your neck his soft breath almost tickling the skin there as he slowly moved his hips enough to line his member up with your waiting hole and sliding in slowly sighing blissfully as he bottomed out inside you.

"I love you" you whispered your walls stretching to accommodate him.

"I love you more, thank you baby" she slurred sleepily his eyes closing and his breathing evening out as he finally passed out. You knew in the morning his would probably thank you and tell you how amazing a partner he thought you were letting him use you like this, but really there was nowhere you would rather be than being held tightly by him as he got the rest he deserved.

a/n: Thank you for reading you beautiful human. As always your comments, reblogs and likes feed my need to write more and I adore you for that xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay89, @damnyouficc, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @bakedlilgoonie, @krishastumblernow, @mrsseals16, @fawnpeaks, @leeknowinggg, @uno7, @tanzen-ist-gold

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids timestamps #skz timestamps #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #18+ content #18+ minors dni

[starhvney]

𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: garroth, laurance, travis, dante, zane, katelyn, & nana

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: what i think they'd be like on a roadtrip!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slice of life

𝐂𝐖: none!

𝐀/𝐍: i miss going on roadtrips i haven't been on one in so long

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

☆ calls shotgun immediately and insists it’s his spot for the rest of the trip (oldest sibling syndrome)

☆ always buys something at every rest stop, whether it’s an icee, chips, or some stupid trinket

☆ bought a key chain one time that flashed the words “bad boy” on it because he thought it was so funny. he was devastated when it stopped working one day

☆ likes being the gps guy because sometimes he’ll find a cool place to stop and check out on the way (to make the most of the trip, of course)

☆ talks about town lore when you pass through somewhere interesting

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

☆ he has the best road trip playlist and made sure to plan out how long it was depending on how far you’re traveling

☆ honestly he’s probably the one driving for most of the trip if not all of it, he finds driving relaxing and also doesn’t trust other people to drive safely

☆ likes to play fun talking games like never have i ever or would you rather, or just talking about life

☆ will play the license plate game or i spy to stay alert

☆ if he’s not talking he’s really enjoying the playlist

☆ if the road trip is super long he’ll agree to switch out of driving for a bit to take a nap

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒

☆ is really invested in the license plate game

☆ he’s always cracking jokes and is definitely the type of guy to look in other people’s windows on the road and guess their life story

☆ gets invested when a car sticks with yours for a long time and gets dramatic when they finally split away

☆ plays multiplayer games on his phone with whoever wants to play or sends memes to the group chat (you guys are literally in the same car)

☆ will suddenly start discussing conspiracy theories or will tell ghost stories about the towns you pass through

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄 

☆ he’s either talking the whole time or passed tf out no in between

☆ says “i could go for some fast fast food right now” literally anytime you guys pass a fast food restaurant

☆ also cracks jokes and will add on to travis’s guesses on the lives of oblivious travelers

☆ makes really exaggerated and out of place guesses because he thinks it’s funny

☆ it’ll be a grandma driving in her old chrysler and he goes “how much you wanna bet she’s got a pound of weed in her trunk”

☆ like man what the hell are you talking about

𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐄

☆ irritated if people are talking too much (dante and travis)

☆ puts on noise canceling headphones and only tunes back in if food or a rest stop is involved (he’s busy listening to my little pony infection au lore/j)

☆ has a pillow, blanket, and hoodie on at all times for maximum comfort

☆ another sleeper. surprisingly doesn’t mind if you use him as a pillow or ask to share his blanket, he’s really comfy with all those layers on

☆ will lightly shove you away if you start moving too much, though

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐍

☆ pretty chill the whole time as usual

☆ sits in the very back and mostly will watch the scenery

☆ she brings a book or watches a movie, and doesn’t mind sharing her headphones with you to watch it together 

☆ unless you’re traveling in a car with tv screens installed, then she has a small travel case with a ton of burned cds (if you know you know) and everyone can join in

☆ if she gets tired of socializing with everyone she puts in some earbuds and takes a nap

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀

☆ packs a whole bag of snacks and homemade sweets for everyone

☆ checks pretty often if anyone wants to take a break at a rest stop and stretch their legs (she’s pretty jittery and doesn’t want to be the only one constantly asking to stop the car)

☆ also participates in the license plate game, but also likes to play the slug bug and yellow car game

☆ made the mistake of slug bugging katelyn and got punched back in the arm

☆ gets really addicted to cute cat games on her phone and accidentally spends a bunch of money on passes

☆ she brings some sort of craft or sketchbook for the trip. you notice she’s been quiet for a while before looking over and seeing she’s already crocheted half of a scarf and a hat

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

#aphmau mystreet #mystreet x reader #aphmau #garroth ro'meave #mystreet garroth #mystreet travis #mystreet katelyn #mystreet kawaii chan #mystreet nana #mystreet laurance #mystreet zane #zane ro'meave #mystreet dante

[radioactiveparker]

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart - Sub!Eddie Munson X Dom!Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary - Eddie surprises you with a birthday present after a bad day

Warnings - Sub!Eddie / Dom!Reader / Strong Language / Bondage / Oral (M & F Receiving) / Face Sitting / Edging / Orgasm Denial / Overstimulation / Multiple Orgasms / Riding / Mommy Kink / Spitting / Dirty Talk / Gagging / Choking / Degradation / Creampie / Breeding Kink

Word Count - 4.8K

A/N - So, it's my birthday!!! 22 whole years of age. I'll be going away for a couple of days, so there'll probably be little activity on here, so I thought I'd leave you all with this parting gift haha. Enjoy x

_____

Today was shit.

There was no simpler way to put it.

It had started wonderfully. You couldn't deny that. Blissfully awoken in the strong arms of your lover, Eddie, with soft morning kisses and breakfast in bed (even if the pancakes were a little on the burnt side). But when the phone rang and you had no other choice but to go into work, your birthday plans had been successfully ruined. You wouldn't have minded if the day had gone smoothly, but it was filled with spilt coffee, raging customers, and an older gentleman who thought he had the privilege of being able smack your ass when you walked by.

Your heart leapt with delight when the final customer left the diner. All that was left to do was to wipe the tables, brush the floors, take out the trash, and lock up. It would have been a lot easier if your colleague hadn't let her drunkard of a boyfriend in the diner after hours. He had slurred a "promise" that he wouldn't get in the way, but he found it all too amusing to try and trip you up as you swept the floors and when it went a little too quiet, you just knew that they were getting touchy-feely in the pantry cupboard. You would have left if you could have, but she had been your lift to work, and therefore, she was your lift home. Thanks to their not-so-clandestine activities, you had gotten home an hour later than you would have liked.

The sun had already begun to set when you'd left the diner and dusk had settled by the time you got home. A birthday sufficiently wasted.

After a day like today, all you wanted was Eddie - just to feel his embrace, smell his musky cigarette scent, for him to listen to you rant about your awful day to get it out of your system. Maybe you could ask him for a massage and a hot bath to ease the stress from your aching muscles. Well, as close to a massage as you could get from Eddie. Because the two of you know how those always end. Yeah, that sounded really good right now.

You gave your colleague a quick thank you, trying not to roll your eyes when her boyfriend leapt on her almost instantly before you could say goodbye. The slam of the car door echoed in the quiet trailer park, and the tires screeched when she drove off immediately. You dragged your feet to the front door of yours and Eddie's trailer. Upon approaching, you noticed that almost all of the lights in the trailer were off, which was odd because you knew that Eddie was going to be home tonight. You fumbled your keys in the door and dumped your bag, shoes, and coat by the entrance. As you took a step, you felt something soft beneath your foot: a rose petal.

You observed then a haphazard trail of rose petals leading from the front door and down the hall. Your heart melted and puddled in your waterline as you followed it. The odd tealight candle meandered alongside the dappled pathway, its dim, honeyed light guiding you into your bedroom. The door had been left open, just a crack, and you could tell that there was more candle light glowing from inside. You opened it slowly and wearily. If you knew Eddie, which you did, you knew he had a particular penchant for jumping out to scare you when you least expected it. That was not the case this time to your relief.

Instead, the appreciative tear in your eyes was sniffed away with a laugh of your own. There on the centre of your bed, Eddie lay.

Stark naked.

Hands behind his head.

With a gift box over his crotch.

He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively before he reached over to his bedside table and dropped the needle on your record player. The powerful blow of a saxophone eased from the speakers as Careless Whisper played. It's a song that Eddie wasn't keen on, mind you, but he knew you had a certain fondness for during certain situations. Situations like this.

"Happy Birthday, Baby."

You stalked over to him, already feeling your underwear dampen. "You did all this for me, handsome?"

"Uh huh, now come and open your present." He spoke all too eagerly.

You climbed onto the bed, rose petals pooling in the divots as you did. You sat yourself just above his knees, straddling his thighs and giving him a very obvious view of your lace panties from your up ridden pencil skirt and the wet patch of your arousal that resided there.

Your eyes moved to the box between your thighs - pretty pink paper with tiny red hearts wrapped neatly around the box. You wouldn't be surprised if he had spent all day trying to wrap it as neatly as he could. He had topped it off with a blushing ribbon tied in a bow. You reached for it, pausing to look him in the eyes. You both had the same look - a look that said you knew exactly where this was going. You took your time pulling the ribbon out of its loops, much to Eddies dismay, and then lifted the lid off the box to reveal what you had been yearning for.

"Oh, Eddie, you shouldn't have."

Eddie's throbbing cock was staring up at you. His tip was flushed and leaking, twitching with anticipation through the hole cut out of the bottom of the box. He had shaved for the special occasion even though you had told him numerous times that you didn't mind him having pubic hair.

"Thought I'd get you something you'd get a lot of use out of."

"I love it." You leaned over to give him a thank you kiss, giggling into his lips.

"You wanna know the best part?" He mumbled against your lips. "It's all yours tonight, whatever you say goes."

"I get to do anything I want to you?"

He nodded confidently.

You bit your lip in thought. You could go slow and romantic, let him make love to you to ebb the tension out of your body, said the angel. Or you could absolutely ruin him, argued the devil. It was something you hadn't got the chance to do yet. Eddie was always very dominant when it came to bedroom activities, not that you minded, but sometimes you wanted to make him crumble - give him a taste of his own medicine. That, and it would be a good way to let out all of your frustrations of the day.

The devil won.

"Oh, your gonna wish you hadn't said that." You teased, trying to keep your assertive composure and not laugh when Eddie's face fell . "Still got them cuffs pretty boy?"

You saw Eddie's Adams apple bob with a not-so subtle gulp, obviously not expecting those taunting words to ooze from those pretty lips of yours. He nodded anyway and informed you that they were still in the shoebox under the bed, along with the other toys, gags and restraints the two of you had collected over the years. You made a show collecting them, flashing him as you climbed off him, swaying your hips as you sauntered around the bed, and keeping your ass high in the air as you bent over to reach under the bed. You stifled a giggle when you heard him groan at the sight.

You clambered back on top of him, sitting higher up on his thighs and removing the box from around his cock. His hands immediately reached for your ass, grabbing a handful of your cheeks while he had the chance. You let them rest there, smiling at him while you unlocked the cuffs. You took his wrists one at a time, probably handling them a little harsher than you should've, but Eddie didn't seem to mind. He obediently allowed you to chain him to the bedpost, to your surprise. Eddie certainly wasn't one for being submissive, and often hated when you bested him at anything. Like when you would play fight and you wound up pinning him beneath you, Eddie would never let you bask in your victory for very long before you were back underneath him - "where you belong" he would say. You were beginning to understand his notion, Eddie looked exceptionally delectable beneath you; brown waves cascading over the plush pillows, matching irises twinkling in the candlelight, his pouty lips looking oh-so kissable.

You decided to appease your craving and firmly plant your lips to his when his wrists were finally in place. You could hear them rattle as he pulled on them, already finding it hard not to touch you. He forced his tongue against yours, toying with it and moaning into you. You suckled on his tongue, deciding then that you wanted to feel it inside of you.

He whined reluctantly as you removed yourself from him. You stood before him at the end of your bed and began unbuttoning your coffee stained shirt. You did it slowly, putting on a show for him as you revealed your dolled up breasts with every button. It was Eddies favourite, deep red lace to match your panties. His cock dripped onto his abdomen at the sight, his mouth practically watering. You pulled the shirt from off your shoulders and leisurely unzipped your skirt to let it pool at your feet. Easing your finger beneath the waistband of your panties, you flicked them teasingly before sliding them down your legs. Eddie groaned once again when he caught sight of your juices glistening in the candlelight. You playfully chucked them at him, landing directly on his chest, just out of reach for him to smell your juices, to taste them lingering on the lace. His head threw back in annoyance and he didn't see you approaching him until your thighs were either side of his head.

Your begging pussy hovered above his pink lips. "You gonna be good for me?"

He nodded eagerly, pulling at the restraints like he had forgotten he was tied up. You smirked down at him, he was so used the gripping your thighs and pulling you down to his tongue. You gradually lowered yourself onto him, feeling his wet muscle instantly delve into your folds as soon as it could reach. You moaned at the sudden sensation and rested your full weight on him - he would only ask you to otherwise. He massaged your clit bounteously and it wasn't long before you were gasping for air between every moan. His strategic tongue lapped every drop that leaked from your aching hole until you were practically grinding on his face, using his nose to rub along your clit as he fucked his tongue in and out of your entrance.

"Fuck, that's so good baby." You cried. "You wanna make me cum?"

He hummed a yes as he kissed through your folds, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He worked double time, wanting you to cum to fulfil his desperate need to taste your release on his tongue. He took to harshly sucking and slurping on your clit until it was raw and swollen. Your hand gripped his hair tight enough to keep him in place and started a fast pace jerking your hips into his mouth. With a final sob, you release yourself onto his tongue. Not a single drop was wasted. He continued to lap you up until you were shuddering and jolting above him.

With shaking legs, you pulled yourself from him, watching him lick the sheen of your slick from his lips. You sat back on his hip, feeling his erection press against your inner thigh before leaning down to give him a kiss.

"Awe, you were such a good boy making me cum." You praised against his lips. "I think you deserve a little something in return."

Moving yourself so you lay between his legs, you trailed a soft hand along his pulsing length. A small yelp tumbled from his lips at the sudden sensation. He was already trying to thrust into your hand before you had even got a proper hold of him yet. His desperation pleased you greatly. His cock was verging on purple when you finally took him in your grasp. The sensitive skin was hot under your touch and he couldn't help but jerk away.

"Don't you want me to touch you, Eddie?"

"NO, I do. Please. It's just-" He hissed when you dragged your hand along him, "It's just so fucking sensitive."

"Bet you've been waiting for me all day, huh? You need me so badly, don't you my poor baby?" You cooed, continuing to stroke his cock.

"Yes, baby. I've been so fucking hard for you all day. I need you to make me cum, please."

"Such a good boy using your manners." You gave him a little squeeze, watching more of his arousal leak from the tip.

You used it to glide your hand up and down his length at a slow pace. Eddie was already whimpering beneath you with every tug, biting his lip and bucking his hips. You alternated your pace between rapid and slow strokes, only slowing when his moans grew louder. He groaned in annoyance every time you did, making his high ebb away before riling it up again. Every now and then you payed particular attention to his tip, running your fingers along his head and kneading his balls, applying pressure to both to extract more of his leaking cum. He was sweating and crying beneath you, twitching when it was too much and thrusting when it wasn't enough. You had to swallow the saliva that was pooling in your mouth.

You sped up your hand movements, only this time when he began moaning loudly, you didn't stop. You wanted him as close to the edge as possible. His moans were louder and longer and his voice was cracking between them.

"Fuck Mommy, I'm gonna cum."

You stopped. Pussy throbbing.

"Mommy?" His cheeks somehow flushed even redder, fearing he had crossed a line by the tone in your voice. "You want Mommy to make you cum?"

He released a breath in relief when you played along. His cock twitched in your hand and he nodded hopefully.

"Don't worry, you'll get to cum. But Mommy isn't finished playing with you yet."

And with that, your hands started again. A sob escaped Eddie's mouth when you let a glob of saliva drip from your lips and onto his tip, the extra lubrication letting your hand glide effortlessly along his extensive length. If you thought he was loud before, you were not prepared for the sounds he made when your lips wrapped around his tip. His already hot cock rejoiced in the warmth of your mouth and he accidentally thrust upwards into your throat. You swallowed him whole, having being trained to take him completely. You bobbed your head up and down, getting through eight successful drags before Eddie's thighs tensed beneath your palms. You paused, keeping him down your throat but not giving him enough to make him cum. You stayed there until his high subsided before moving again.

"Please can I cum, Mommy? I've been so good."

You pulled off him with a harsh pop. "Didn't I say you would get to cum? You've got to be patient baby, or I might just leave you tied up like this for the rest of the night."

"NO! I'm sorry. I'll be patient."

It was so unusual to hear Eddie beg like that, but you were lying if you said you weren't enjoying it. You were finally getting payback for the countless number of times Eddie had teased you, edged you, and made you beg for him.

You wanted him weeping.

You started by ceasing contact all together and climbing higher up on his body so that your aching pussy hovered over his cock. But not touching. You kissed up his body, licking and nipping and leaving deep purple hickeys along your path, tasting the salt on his skin. You payed particular attention to his nipples before trailing up to the sensitive spot below his ear. He was wreathing beneath you, pulling on his chains at your unrushed pace and whimpering in your ear.

"You okay, Eddie?" You took a pause to see if he was aright when you heard him panting unusually hard.

He simply nodded.

"C'mon Baby, use your words. You should know this better than anyone." You teased Eddie the way he normally would you.

"Yes." He breathed, taking deeper breaths now that you had given him the chance to simmer down.

But his cock was still rock hard and throbbing, begging to be sucked deep inside of your pussy. You finally removed your bra, chucking it to the side and grabbing your breasts, playing with your nipples in front of him. Your arousal was leaking onto his cock, letting your folds glide over him with ease when you sat your weight on him. A harsh curse fell from his lips at the sensation, and he repeated it again when you started to grind your bare pussy on his solid shaft.

You had finally had enough teasing yourself and soothed his tender cock with your soft walls. Your hole stretched to accommodate his length, giving you immense pleasure with every inch you sank down on. You eventually got yourself completely seated on him, giving yourself time to adjust and watch the flush spread across Eddie's chest. Your juices dribbled into the smooth skin of his pubic bone and dripped down his balls.

To Eddie's delight, you finally started moving, rolling your hips along his and raising yourself up and down his length. The pair of you were moaning messes, sweat gleaming off the two of you and the sounds of slapping skin echoing in the room. Your hands rested on his chest to motivate some rhythm, toes curling as his cock speared into you. Your pace was building, as fast as you could go for as long as you could.

"Fuck, you're riding me so good baby."

"Keep bouncing on my cock."

"Fuck, just like that."

It was second nature to Eddie to talk like that. It was his dominant side peaking out. But you weren't having any of that. You wrapped your hand around the base of his throat, applying enough pressure to have his eyes roll back and then taking your discarded panties and shoving them in his mouth as a gag.

That certainly shut him up.

You couldn't fight the smirk when he went back to being a whimpering mess beneath you, tasting the arousal you had left on the material that he had so desperately wanted to taste when you had first thrown them at him.

Your nails were unintentionally sinking crescent moons onto his neck as you bounced, thighs and shins burning at the exertion. You were getting tired. Your hips weren't moving fast enough for you to reach your high, despite being pleasured greatly.

"C'mon Eddie, I hope you didn't think I was going to be doing all the work tonight. It is my birthday, after all. If you wanna cum, then your gonna have to start pulling your weight."

His arms moved as if they were going to go for your hips, but instead he let out a frustrated sigh when they didn't move more than two inches. He found it harder to thrust into you without the leverage of your hips, but he still complied like a good boy. You were moaning almost as loud as he was when his hips began buckling up into you, reaching the deepest parts of you that had your eyes rolling back into your skull. He was pounding faster than you ever could riding him, making the warmth pool into your stomach until it was about to boil over.

But he stopped.

"Did I day that you could stop?"

Eddie let out a pathetic muffled excuse from behind your panties that you didn't understand. You ripped the lace from his mouth, staring deep into his watering eyes.

"No, but I was gonna cum. Please let me cum."

"You can cum when I say. And you can stop when I say. Now keep fucking me before I change my mind about letting you cum at all."

He continues thrusting upwards, but his pace wasn't as quick and his rhythm was faltering. If felt amazing of course, but it didn't have the same warmth fermenting deep within you as he had before. 

"Faster."

"But I'm gonna cum." He whined, thrashing his arms in his cuffs. He wanted to push you off, yet at the same time he wanted to stay buried inside of you forever and ever. He was in a catch 22.

"That's so disappointing Eddie. You don't want to disappoint me, do you? No? You want to make me feel good, huh, baby?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll fuck me faster, won't you?"

"Yes, mommy." He choked.

His hips pounded into you so relentlessly it shocked you. You had never had Eddie fuck you so fiercely in you life. Perhaps he was willing his torture to end. Get you to cum so he could cum. The veins along his shaft rubbed along your walls and the tip of his cock jabbed at your cervix. It punched the air out of your lungs and drew you closer and closer to the edge. But as his hips thrusted and pounded, his orgasm was swift approaching. Far too swift to keep it up for much longer.

"Fuck can I cum please?"

The tears in his eyes made you somewhat merciful. He had been on the edge for long enough. You wrap your hand around his throat, feeling his groans vibrate through it.

"You wanna breed me? Shoot your load deep inside me?" You rasped in his ear.

"Yes. Please." his hoarse voice scratched his throat.

"Then cum for me."

The second his words left your lips, his hips were stilling and he dumped his load inside of you. You gasped the the sensation, the heat of his cum spreading inside you and filling you up until your completely full.

"Awww such a good boy for me." You cooed, leaning down to peck his lips.

"Thank you." He took a few more gasps to catch his breath. "Can you uncuff me now?"

"Uncuff you? Oh baby, you didn't think I was finished with you, did you?" You laughed wickedly. "You didn't even get me to cum. How pathetic."

His face dropped. The shameful look in his eyes almost made you feel bad. 

Almost.

"I'm sorry, let me make it up to you. Ride my face again, I wanna taste you again."

"Oh, but it isn't about what you want, is it? No, I do want to ride something, but it's not gonna be your face."

He looks at you confused until you roll your hips again, and he winces at the over stimulation. If you thought Eddie was loud before, you were not ready for the sounds that left his mouth when you began fucking him again. He was practically screaming for you, whether it was for you to stop or keep going, you didn't know. But it didn't matter because you weren't stopping. You rise yourself up again before dropping harshly, hearing the squelch of his release when it tried to leak from your stuffed hole. His cock barely had anytime to go soft before it was perking up again, ignorant to Eddie's reluctancy. You continued the fast pace you had before, but your legs were shaking from pleasure and pain, and you couldn't keep the pace long enough. You were getting frustrated with yourself that you couldn't bring yourself to the edge again. Although you were opposed to the idea, you needed Eddie to fuck you. As much as you wanted to keep up this dominant side of you, you weren't getting yourself anywhere. 

It's like you finally get out of your own head, and Eddie's still as loud as ever. You pause your movements and hop off him, resting your aching legs. His cock is completely solid and burning. The cool air makes him hiss as it twitched and shined with your mixed juices.

"Are you done now?"

"Me? No. You didn't think I was going to leave you like that." Still keeping your façade so Eddie knows your still in charge. 

You stroke his cock and he hisses and twitches away from your touch. "That looks painful. I bet another orgasm will do you some good."

"What? No, please. I can't."

"I'm sorry baby, but it's tough shit."

He's confused when you uncuff him, rubbing his sore wrists. You climb away from him towards the bottom of the bed, bending down in front of him. Face down ass up.

"I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Make me cum on your cock."

He rubs the back of his sweaty neck. "I don't think I can, sweetheart."

"Fine then," you sit yourself back up, " I'll just cuff you again and do it myself."

"No! I'll do it."

So eager to please, you smirk to yourself, getting back into position. He settles himself behind you, resting his hand on your ass and squeezing them like he had before. You squealed when he unexpectedly took a bite of your ass cheek. He chuckled against the skin and gave it a kiss before lining himself up at your entrance. He took a breath to prepare himself, watching his previous release leak from between your folds before plunging himself deep inside you. The two of you moaned in unison. The angle had him somehow pushing deeper into you than before and directing his tip straight to your sweet spot. Eddie was wincing and whimpering behind you, the overstimulation was becoming too much to bare and his thrusts were wavering.

"You call this fucking? C'mon Eddie you can do better than that."

He knows your only playing the part, but he couldn't help but take that comment a little bit to heart, and forces himself to put your pleasure over his pain. As if possessed he pushed your head into the mattress and bends over you to shove his cock as deep as it will go. His hips are moving faster and harsher, fucking you just how you like - finally giving you what you wanted. His hands were gripping your hips hared enough to leave bruises, contrasting against the soft, wet kisses he pressed onto your shoulder. His moans were in your ear and his guttural groans were going straight to your core. You could feel his body shaking above you, trying hard to keep himself up on fatigued legs. But he continued to push himself inside of you, wrapping an arm around your waist to stroke your clit and using the other to grip one of your tits, using it as leverage to pound into you. He rubbed harsh circles on your sensitive nub and pinched and rolled your nipples, wanting so desperately for you to cum so he could to. 

You walls began spasming around him. "Fuck Eddie, I'm gonna cum."

The squeeze around his cock sends him over the edge. The two of your are left moaning and panting as your orgasms wash over you and send you into pure bliss. You take his second load like a champ, his hips still stuttering to keep it deep inside you. You've never had him cum inside you twice before, but now that you've done it, you don't think you could go back.

He pulls out of you swiftly, to your disappointment, and collapses back onto the pillow. He watches from the opposite end of the bed as his cum seeps from your folds and drips onto the bed below as you both catch your breath. If he wasn't so exhausted, the sight alone would have had him hard again.

You manage to catch your breath first, forcing yourself up and walking on trembling legs to the bathroom. You take time to clean yourself up, grabbing a warm washcloth and taking it into the bedroom after a quick stop to the kitchen to get you both a glass of water, blowing out the candles along the way. When you return, Eddie is nearly half asleep, hands resting on his stomach and head lolling to the side. You wake him up with a soft kiss before wiping him down and making him take a sip of water. He thanks you while you reach for a discarded shirt of his and blowing out the rest of the candles. You snuggle up to him in the darkness, the smell of candle smoke reminding you that it was probably late enough for your birthday to be over.

"Fuck baby, where did that come from?"

"Somewhere deep within." You joked, giggling into his chest.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head and the two of you lay in a comfortable silence, allowing sleep to consume you. You forced yourself to peek at the time through bleary eyes before it did.

11:59pm

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

-----

Taglist:

@ali-r3n @mrsmarch64

#happy birthday to me #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #sub!eddie

[mediumgayitalian]

She almost runs over her guitar on her way in the driveway.

For a second, the image is so obscene that she laughs. She’d gotten her hands on a permanent marker, when she was three, scrawled her name across the body with careful hands a tongue stuck out of her mouth in concentration. The N is backwards, and she’d creatively used the soundhole as the O. Hollered for Daddy to come look, to come ruffle her hair and swing her over his shoulders for a job well done.

He’d come to look, alright.

“Well, Helen,” he’d said to his wife, scrubbing a hand over his neck, “damn thing’s hers, now, I suppose.”

He’d always warned her to be careful with it. Scolded her for every sticker she’d slapped on the neck, every painted doodle on the face. Picked it up when she left it sprawled on the couch, placing it gently on the stand. Careful as he was with all her things, with her.

It’s strings-down on the pavement, now, half-crushed under the weight of her patched pink backpack. She takes a half step forward, chipped paint of her purple toenails scratching against the wood of the guitar. She crouches down and touches it, softly, wincing at the twang of the twisted strings.

“What…”

A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention. She looks up just in time to catch the pale blue curtains swish quickly shut over the bow windows, to see the lights flick off.

Mouth dry, she touches her stomach. The swell is barely there — barely noticeable. Barely far along enough to feel the kick.

She wants to scream. She wants to run up to the door and bang on it ‘til Mama swings it open, wants to collapse to her knees and sob and beg for their forgiveness. Wants to tell them about how scared she’s been for months. Wants Mama to grip her hand in her calloused ones, sit her at the kitchen table and get her the exact type of tea that’ll settle her stomach and soothe her heartburn. Wants Daddy to smooth back her hair and press a kiss to the crown of her forehead, squeezing the curve of her shoulder. Wants Wally the cat to hop up onto her lap, mrrping and bumping his head into her sternum.

Instead, she swallows. She swings her backpack over her shoulders, picks her guitar gently off the cracked driveway, and walks straight-backed to her car. The key sticks in the lock, as it always does, and in her increasingly desperate attempts to force it open she twists the damn thing, and the key is sad and thin and bent when she yanks it out and she cries, almost, the tears build and build and build in her eyes, util suddenly she grits her teeth and decides that she will not. She shoves the key back in the lock and twists the other way, bending it back into shape, wrenching open the door and throwing her backpack in, relishing in the thunk as it hits the passenger door. With her guitar she’s gentler, barely, setting it neatly along the backseats and wrenching her hand back as hard as she can to make up for it.

She sits in the drivers seat so hard the whole car shakes. The steering wheel is warm, still, from the heat of her palms on the drive here from Molly’s house, because she’s been overheated lately. For the last four months, to be exact. Overheated and cranky and nauseous and heavy.

“Well,” she whispers, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. She wraps her arms around her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut, biting her tongue as hard as she can. “It’s you and me and sheer fucking will, I guess, kid.”

She rifles through her CDs until she comes across a case with a wood-pattern print and a man with a revolver lounging across it. She pulls out the scratched disc and feeds it carefully into the player, waiting for the deep baritone to rumble through her shit plastic speakers, and listens to the first bar, the second, the third.

But this is for real, so forget about me. Eight more minutes to go.

The light doesn’t come back on. The curtains don’t flick. Her Daddy doesn’t come runnin’ out the door, screaming for her to wait. Mama doesn’t follow out calmly after him. All there is is shadow, shadow, shadow, and the shape her guitar made upside down on the pavement.

She backs out of the driveway where she tripped and fell and lost her first tooth, and drives, and drives, and drives.

———

When she was little, her uncle took her to go see Alien.

He shouldn’t have. It was far too old a movie for a kid her age, and the clerk had told him so. But Noah Solace had a penchant for being stubborn and a chip in his shoulder, so he’d taken her anyway. He should have left when the alien leapt from its nest and definitely when one of the freaky little parasites burst from the guy’s chest, but he didn’t, and Naomi had watched frozen completely in her seat, palms sweating, spine rigid, squirming at the thought of something growing inside her. Of being betrayed by something that lived in the deepest recesses of her body.

The day after she leaves home, she taps her chewed-up fingernail on the sides of the wall-phone by a rest stop. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. The Bell logo is covered partially by someone’s tag, by a curved C and bubble O B A L T. Ironically, the worn Sharpie ink is purple.

617 343 7844. She knows the number by heart. She knows the song of dialling it like she knows Jolene. Bah-duh-duh bah-duhduh duh-bah-duhduh. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three, four. Tap. Tap. Tap.

She sucks her lip into her teeth. Training her eyes on the purple COBALT tag, the obstructed Bell, the rainbow of wads of gum balled up in the corners, she presses the right buttons. Bahduhduh-bahduhduh-duhbahduhduh. Ring. Ring.

What is she doing. What is she doing.

Ring. Ring.

Naomi isn’t one for planning. She’s absent-minded, she knows she is. Flighty and distracted. Head in the clouds, never one to study. A coaster. A drifter. A real one, now.

Ring. Ring.

Hey, Uncle Noah. It’s been years since I’ve seen you. I keep forgetting to respond to your letters. How am I? I’m great! I slept with a god and now I’m nineteen and knocked up and homeless, to boot. Wanna come pick me up?

Ring. Ring.

God, what is she doing. What is she doing.

Ring. Ring. Ri—

“Fuck d’you want?”

Low baritone. Gravelly. Rough, slurring. Sleepy?

“Hello? Can you hear me? Who’s this?”

Hey, Uncle Noah. It’s been years since I’ve seen you. I keep forgetting to —

“Is this one’a them fuckin’ tele — fuck they called — tele…tele…”

— respond to your letters, great, nineteen knocked up —

“Tele…grams? Telefuckin…telemarketers! You one’a them fuckin’ telemarketers?”

— pick me up pick me up pick me up please —

“Swear t’a fuckin’ Jesus — I told you sons of bitches —”

— parasite —

“Ah, fuck you. You call here again I’mma fuckin’ —”

Click.

Riiiiiiinnnnnng.

She stares at her own finger on the receiver, white and bloodless. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

You have disconnected. To reconnect your call, please —

She flings the phone from her hands, against the receiver, against the box, clink, clatter, bounce, tap tap tap tap tap tap against the pavement. Tap. Scritch. Tap tap tap. And flees to her car.

———

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

She blinks back at the yellow little fuel light, humming along to the stereo. She can push it for a while longer, probably. Maybe even to the district line.

What happens if she just drives? If she drives and drives and doesn’t stop. Lets the little light blinkblinkblink at her, keepin’ time with Reba McEntire and her dying husband. That’s the night when the lights went out in Georgia.

She’d have time to pull over, probably. Coast on the speed she was going, cut across to the gravel shoulder. There’s no one else around, anyway. She could recline her seat and cross her arms over her chest and watch the clouds through the dusty top of her windshield. Sleep through the night and wake with the mourning doves’ cooing. Then what? That’s the night that they hung an innocent man.

Walk, probably. On the side of the highway, along the stretch of dying grass and reedy weeds. Guitar on her back and backpack tucked under her arm, strolling under the balmy March sun and sing to the cawing crows, to the rushing cars. Well, don’t sell your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer.

Someone’d pull up next to her, probably. A trucker or a group of hippies. Headed to Oregon, they might say, round glasses covering bloodshot red eyes. Need a ride? ‘Cause the judge in the town’s got bloodstains on his hands.

And she would need a ride. She’d sing for them, maybe. Pluck along to Hey Jude on her out-of-tune guitar and holler with the wind rushing in from the old broken windows. They’d know someone in Cali, of course they would, slip her their card. He’s a manager, he’s looking for some new talent. You’re just what he needs. Well, they hung my brother before I could say.

Right. A knocked-up nobody who’s paying for gas with her last few bills and the four quarters she found in a sticky mess of juice in her cup holder. She’ll go platinum, right up there with the Stones and the Roses. Naomi Solace, part-time mom, full-time country star. The tracks he saw while on his way.

She drifts off the exit to the first gas station she sees. The blink, blink, blink of the light irritates her, now.

The highway town she drifts through looks like a carbon copy of the dozens of others she’s been to in her life. The giant grey rest stop, the 24 hour McDonalds, the three separate Mattress Firms. She skips over the Buccees — the stupid mascot gives her the creeps — and pulls into the first gas station she sees. Dollar twenty a gallon. Jesus.

There’s an old man at the pump across from her. He stares as he pumps his gas. Nausea builds in her stomach, but whether that’s the gross factor or the avocado-sized mass growing inside her, but she doesn’t stick around long enough to find out. She sprints for the little convenience store at top speeds, shoving open the door and ignoring the startled cashier and stumbling into the little bathroom in the back, barely making it to the stained toilets before emptying the contents of her stomach. She can see the half-digested junior bacon cheeseburger she had for lunch. It makes her throw up more. It also makes her mourn the eighty-nine cents she spent on it. Fuck.

She walks back into the convenience store grimacing at the taste of her own mouth. Nobody tells you that mouthwash and water bottles account for approximately eight billion dollars of your pregnancy cost. Of course, Naomi has never asked, but that should be a bigger part of the condom ads.

Or abstinence ads. She’s not sure how helpful a piece of rubber is against godly sperm. Mary seemed to struggle with the ordeal. Godspeed to her — she gets why the Catholics are so bananas for her now. This shit is hard and she handled it like a champ. Good on you, Mother Mary.

“Just these?” the cashier asks hesitantly, poking at the travel mouthwash, the water bottles, the singular packaged pickle, and the tiny jar of strawberry jam. And the plastic spoon she grabs from the hot table.

“And pump number 5. Please.”

“…Twenty-three sixty.”

Gas and water and a snack.

Twenty five dollars.

She has to count out her coins, hyperaware if the cashier’s dirty look. She bites back a comment about how frustrating it must be for them to have to do their job when it’s so busy out, what with one customer. Shame. Because she’s used up her irresponsibility quota for the next few years, she reckons, so she oughtta bite her tongue.

Half her fortune poorer, she walks back out to her car. The gas nozzle is still sticking out if it. She puts it back while holding her breath — do gas fumes kill growing babies? They probably kill growing babies — and shoves open her trunk, digging around. Blanket — no. Forgotten impulse purchases from months ago — no. Umbrella — no. Grad cap — no, and also why.

Finally, she finds what she’s looking for. She climbs onto the hood of the car, digging into her jam pickle, and flips open the paper atlas, turning the many pages until the map of Texas stares out at her, huge and overwhelming.

Twenty-six dollars and forty-nine cents. That’s what she has left. ‘Round twenty bucks for a full tank — that’s what she has left. 400 miles on a full tank. Seven or so hours until she’s out of the state.

“I could leave,” she says aloud.

And go where? New Mexico? Barely. She’s nowhere near LA, she’s nowhere near New York; hell, she’s nowhere near Austin. She’s nowhere near anything. Not even the nearest Amtrak station. She could drive until she runs out of gas, leave her car on the side of the road, and walk — to where? To the desert? To some serial killer’s basement?

To fucking find Apollo again?

“This is ridiculous.”

Slamming the atlas closed, she stomps back into the convenience store.

“There a secondhand store near here?” she demands.

The cashier regards her for a moment. Taking her in, probably, her ratty jeans that she can’t button anymore, her stained pink sweater, the greasy mess of her hair. The jam sticking to the corner of her mouth and the sliver of stomach pushing over the waistband of her pants. Her peeling flip-flops.

“Not here,” they say finally. “Highway town, ma’am. Ain’t got shit but what you can see from the road. You wanna real store, you gotta head ten miles east to Blowshow.”

“There’s a town called Blowshow?” she asks incredulously.

“There’s a town called Sheffield,” replies the cashier, mouth twitching, “which no one calls Joansburg, on account that the mayor was caught with his secretary gumming his green bean behind his desk by the film crew of the local news station coming to talk about a recent policy change. It’s got a main road and a general store, and will most definitely have a secondhand store.”

Naomi nods, rocking back on her heels. “Anybody hirin’?”

“Well, I ain’t been to Blowshow since last Sunday. And even then only to come see my sister. I wasn’t lookin’ at help wanted signs.”

“There’s gotta be somethin’.”

The cashier hums. The busy themself with a stack of cigarette boxes behind the counter, fiddling with a strip of cardboard come loose.

“There’s a diner,” they admit. “Di’s. Worst turnover rate than any place I ever been to.” The glance over at her, eyebrows raised. “Frankly, you won’t last a quarter year.”

Instead of sneering something about bowing out quickly and how they must know lots about finishing early, because that’s gross and also uncalled for, Naomi simply walks out. She gets in her car and starts the engine and turns the radio to thirty, making the warbling over the speakers so warped she might as well be listening to static, and guns it east. Or what she’s pretty sure is east, anyway. It’s fifteen minutes the empty pothole roads give way to something that looks like it’s seen a person in the last forty years. A little house sits nestled in the trees, bikes strewn about the driveway. A few hundred yards down road is a jogger that she gives a wide berth. In minutes, she’s pulling into a proper town — a tiny town, with more trees than people, but a real town with a real purpose. She slows to a crawl, eyeing hand-painted banners and peeling signs until she finds what she’s looking for.

The secondhand shop is small, clustered, and smells like mothballs. A shelf of broken old toys blocks her view of the rest of it and any people that may live inside of it, so she steps aside it, stepping carefully around chipped tile and stacked up boxes, looking for the right section. (The right shelf, really; nothing in this store is big enough to be a section.)

She finds what she’s looking for in a dusty old corner near the very back. Behind a broken typewriter and an ancient fax machine, and more random wires and cables than she can count, is a little portable cassette player. A pair of wiry headphones are wound around the hunk of black plastic, foam ear muffs cracked and peeling, and the worn label on the side reads Isobel. She grabs the clunky old machine carefully, brushing the pads of her fingers over the peeling paper label, and holds it to her chest.

At home she has a proper CD Walkman. It’s pink and pretty and covered all over in shiny foil stickers, and it’s chipped on the side from when she dropped it down the stairs. It skips every sixth song of an album without fail and she has to skip three backwards and two forwards to hear it. She has a collection of CDs to go with it longer than her longest shelf, and they’re arranged by colour and favour.

On another shelf, she finds a series of chipped cassette tapes. She flicks through the selection, frowning, trying to restructure hopes that were set too high and read labels written thirty years ago.

“I’ve got an extra box of them by the counter,” says a voice, making her yelp.

“Christ alive, you could kill somebody,” she snaps.

The man shrugs. He wears the loudest shirt she has ever seen and cutoff shorts that are way too short for someone his age. There are streaks of blue in his white hair, and four sweatbands on his left wrist. Green purple grey yellow. One, two, three, four.

“I’ll take a look.”

She spends another ten minutes in silence. The box, at least, has a little more variety than the shelf, so she picks out what’s worth it. She ends up with a stack the size of her arm.

“I have ten dollars,” she lies, Mama’s lecture about showing your cards ringing in her head. “That cover it?”

“Beautifully,” says the man, shiny gold-tooth smile. His bug-eye spectacles gleam in the yellow light. He holds out his hand. “Ten bucks for the player and tapes.”

Looking him right in the eye, she hands him her last twenty-dollar bill. He glares, when he sees it, muttering something about liars and thieves. Strangely, he looks at her with a little bit of respect when he slams her change down onto the counter.

She walks back out to her car, unwinding the headphones as she does. She’s half-worried the ancient things will disintegrate in her hands, but they manage to stay whole, if a little warped. She slides in behind the wheel and pushes back the seat, settling against the itchy carpet upholstery. With a quick glance out the window to make sure there are no creeps, she pulls up her shirt, bunching it up around her ribs, and lowers the waistband of her jeans. She eyes her belly critically.

There’s definitely a bump. Not much she couldn’t explain away with a particularly filling lunch, but it’s hard and there and constantly kicking at her from inside. Slowly, feeling foolish all the while, she stretches out the headphones until both halves rest on either side of her stomach. She picks out one of the tapes, slides it in the player, and clears her throat.

“Listen, kid,” she says, trying to sound less embarrassed than she feels, “I don’t want some lame baby who doesn’t know that Tina Turner was country first, okay? That’s a — waste of my time.” She clears her throat, hovering over the play button. “I better get some engagement.”

The twangy guitar is loud enough that she can hear it through the headphones. Or maybe they’re just that bad. Either way, Alien Parasite should be able to hear it just fine, amniotic fluid be damned.

“‘Means your true love daddy ain’t comin’ back,” she sings along. She closes her eyes and relaxes against the recliner seat, bare skin tingling. “‘Cause I’m movin’ on, I’ll soon be gone. Mhm, hm hm. So I’m movin’ on.’”

At the crest of the bridge, as the guitar speeds up and beats get harder, there’s a point of pressure right above her navel. Another, a few seconds later, at her pelvis. A third right below her ribs.

“Acrobatic little freak,” she mumbles fondly, smiling at her stretched taught skin.

She adjusts the headphones, adjusts herself, and turns the music up louder.

———

next

#naomi solace i love you #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #naomi solace #will solace #naomi solace & will solace #angst #will solace backstory #should be a tag tbh #pregnancy #teen pregnancy #my writing #fic #longpost #lowkey this is original work. but whatever

[teecupangel]

i know you have so much on your plate rn but i can't stop thinking about Ezio-era Baker!Desmond and the shenanigan layers of ✨intrigue✨ going on with Ezio and Leo thinking he’s Giovani's bastard, and Maria inviting him to the villa on a whim ’cause she thinks her kids (and Leo) like the pastries, and Desmond misinterpreting absolutely everything because that boy is a Wreck™

what comes of it, tho?? is Desmond trying to alter history more than just pre-inventing exotic baked goods? is he already having to dodge assassins around Italy while trying to protect the Auditore family, getting on Giovani's radar and spooking him ’cause he can't figure out what branch he's from? or is Desmond holed up in his bakery trying very hard NOT to change anything ’cause hey he’d already saved the world he’d like to not fuck things up bad enough to have to do it again?

does Giovani catch a glimpse of him at some point (either just in the bakery or while Desmond’s out being assassin-y), and instead of thinking he looks like himself or Ezio (since this would be before Ezio gets the scar), thinks he looks eerily like the statue of Altaïr? as another layer of shenanigan, he could come to Leonardo with the idea of time travel but thinks that Desmond is from the PAST rather than the FUTURE, and Leo spends the whole convo trying not to blurt that he thinks/knows Desmond is GIOVANI'S kid

just. the confusion of this au speaks to me, since it’s ALMOST crack-y but also these fools are canonically FOOLS, and i love the way you blend angst with shenanigans. im also shippy at heart, so would love to see your take on that in this au if you have the time 👀

(thank you for reading, i hope you're doing well! 🧡)

As long as you guys are find that your asks are getting answered a month later, I’m alright with adding more to my plate XD (just to be clear, this is a first-in-first-out basis for both asks and replies/reblogs and I’m only about to clear Oct 13 XD)

The original Desmond becomes a baker in Renaissance Italy and gets mistaken as Giovanni’s illegitimate child idea for those curious.

In this one, Desmond only went as far as stop the Auditores from being arrested by dropping key documents showing Uberto’s treachery to the Medici. He stayed as far away as he could from the Auditores and only dropped off the evidence in Lorenzo’s bedside table one day, slipping into the darkness. Anyone who saw him actually thought he was a monk since he was wearing a monk’s attire (which he burned afterwards). This does lead to Giovanni and the thieves guild looking for him after since he hasn’t done any other Assassin related stuff and was simply living his life as a baker, they’re hitting a dead end. Desmond doesn’t plan to do anything else since he believes that the Auditores would be able to handle it from here and he’s betting on Giovanni finally starting Ezio’s training after learning that the Templars are after his family.

Giovanni’s first glimpse of him is when he checked the bakery from afar since his family seemed to like it so much. He just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t post any danger to his family and maybe even talk to La Volpe into adding it to the thieves’ patrol route just so they would have eyes on the bakery at all time. It’s gotten so popular that the Medici are even thinking of ordering from them so Giovanni figured he should do reconnaissance before it got to that point. When he saw Desmond, he doesn’t see the similarities between them, he saw Desmond looking a lot like the statue of Altaïr and he freaks out. Because, unlike Ezio or Leonardo, he does have an inkling of how powerful Those Who Come Before were. He has seen the Shroud and he has heard the tales of how Altaïr had mastered one of their weapons. And… if the Shroud could heal all and any injuries then… In this case, Giovanni doesn’t think Desmond is a time traveler, he thinks Desmond is Altaïr himself who has gained immortality thanks to the ‘powers’ of Those Who Come Before.

Thank you! I honestly like writing these ideas where it’s crack but not crack enough that it’s a bit confusing XD

#desmond bakes #giovanni has a mental breakdown #leonardo still thinks desmond is giovanni’s love child #la volpe is just waiting for giovanni’s instructions #assassin's creed #desmond miles #giovanni auditore #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

[hollewdz]

Quinn and Jaz: Ch2

Chapter 1

word count: ~2k

_______________________

The street lamps buzzed to life, with some flickers of indignation at being awoken for yet another tedious shift. They waited patiently, as they always did, for one very busy college student- who was particularly late tonight. Just as Quinn turned the corner to enter the sprawling parking lot of her apartment complex, the nearest street lamp gave out, dusting her in the growing shadow of the evening. 

Still cursed, then, she half-joked. Quinn’s eyes burned and her nostrils were iced with the sharp pain of the cold winter air. She was lucky enough that her jacket could cover her mouth a bit, if she tugged at it the right way; but it only did so much when the whole back-half of her was totally drenched with ice water. As she finally approached the stairs to her apartment, her mind briefly wandered to the warm lump of a guy in her pocket. 

She felt lucky, because she’d been able to not think about it too much for the walk home- the bitter cold helped with that. But she knew that the second she got inside she’d have to address reality; And reality, right now, was that she had an entire person, on her person. Just chilling. She shivered hard at the thought, the anxiety fully overpowering any pre-existing chills. 

That feeling from earlier came clawing back, fast. The memory of seeing how her hands dwarfed Jaz, seeing him fit entirely into her glove, how that implied he wouldn’t even be hard for her to hold his entire being in one hand. She felt ill at the implications of it all, and shoved the thoughts away for Quinn-Of-Not-Right-Now to deal with. The walk home had been traumatic enough, even before all of this tiny guy shit happened, she didn’t need to process anything while her body temperature was still below average.

Finally reaching her building and trudging up the stairs to the third story, Quinn fumbled numbly for her keys and shouldered the iced-shut door open with a loud crack! Warmth kissed her cheeks and eyelids, much to her relief. Waddling through the threshold, Quinn hurriedly footed off her ice-filled boots. Not even caring about getting a noise complaint, she slammed the door shut and let both bookbags fall heavily to the floor where she stood.

Numb fingers tried desperately to claw the zipper of her coat open, but failed to get a proper hold on the slick metal tab, wet with snow. She briefly gave up on the tab, opting to undo her old leather belt and tug off her oversized, worn jeans, down to her long underwear. Fingering off her sopping socks and leaving the shedded articles at the entryway, Quinn shuffled the couple of feet to her kitchen and started her electric kettle. Running the tap hot at her sink, she held her hands in the water for some time until it was painful from the heat, reluctantly withdrawing from the temporary comfort.

With now-dried hands, she shakily pinched at the zipper near her chapped lips. A long, fluttering breath entered and slowly exited her lungs- she had to mentally prepare. Maybe the cold actually had gotten to her, and she was truly losing it from exhaustion. In a way, she hoped that was the case, because then she could just sleep it off and go back to normal. 

Oh please, respect yourself, Quinn, she internally chided, The ID, the bag, you literally have that shit defrosting 3 feet away from you. Be a big girl and get this over with.

Quinn laughed in spite of herself at that. 

With a sturdy, deep breath, she unzipped the coat and hastily tugged out the glove into the air in front of her face. A muffled Holy- Watch it!! from the contents told her that her passenger was not only real, but also had survived the oh-so-perilous journey. Slightly guilty at the jostling, but mostly cold and annoyed, she laid the glove down on the counter as gently as she could manage. 

The kettle gave a shy click to show it had done its job, and Quinn happily accepted a distraction for her hands. She readied two mugs; A pretty yellow flowered mug equipped with her favorite sleepy-time tea, and then the second mug- a wide, plain, chipped old thing that she set next to the glove, full of nothing but the hot water.

“Oh, and these might be helpful…” She thought aloud, getting two fluffy dish towels from one of the drawers below. Quinn dropped them quickly next to the glove and mugs.

“So, uh,” She started speaking to the air above the set up, not exactly sure how to interact with some guy she just taxi’d into her home, “I’m gonna go take a shower- and uh, warm up- whatever. I’m leaving for 15 minutes. You have 15 minutes to get yourself into a better state, and also to not be naked.” Wait, is that possible? her face twisted, and she started making hand gestures to no one in particular. “Just make sure you’re not… exposed… when I come back to talk, in fifteen. Eugh. Whatever, bye.”

Throwing her hands up and taking a deep, shaky breath, she spun around and eagerly shed the rest of her clothes on the way to her shower. If hypothermia doesn’t get me, cringe certainly fucking will. My god.

—--

Jaz’s head had never hurt so bad in his entire life- which was actually quite impressive, considering how many hangovers he’d dealt with. Jaz ranked this headache particularly high on his list of awful headaches not just because of the splitting pain between his ears. This headache had come with one tiny side effect, and it was bothering him to no end. 

The constant friction of the too-thick fabric rubbing his bare body was getting to be overwhelming, and going from truly freezing temperatures to a sweltering, inescapable heat was nauseating. I might actually need to buy this bitch new gloves, that’s hilarious. Whatever, she needs a new set anyway, this brand sucks. Commenting on Quinn’s gloves was all Jaz could do to distract himself.He might have been able to lie to himself and say this was all some twisted nightmare if not for how sickeningly real it all was. 

The night prior was a blur. All he knew is that he had a few shots, slept with a few girls and had a good time, like any other night. Like normal. He woke up in one of the girls’ beds around dinnertime and was kicked out before he could even ask what they were cooking. 

They were embarrassed they couldn’t cook for shit. Yeah. I would have just ordered us all whatever if they didn’t go all psycho, kicking me out. Jaz absent-mindedly ran his hands slowly up and down his arms, and shut his eyes. He focused on his breathing, and tried not to feel the heat emanating from the wall beside him. Those bitches just didn’t know I would have covered everything- gotten maids for the cleanup, had my secretary manage any absences. Damn, I should have started the night with that- ‘Everything’s on me tonight!’ Then I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess. 

Between jabs at the group of girls he had partied with, the thoughts of how unendingly vast the world felt from his nest of clothes silently fogged into his head. Flashes of seeing his fingers poke through the stitches of his own scarf, at just the amount of time it took to get a full view of Quinn. Bubbling visuals of the hole in the toe of her boot, only a couple yards from him at the time- big enough for him to walk into, with clearance. The way her shins trailed into her knees, peaking at the height of small buildings. He thought of her face; blurry and dulled, like a billboard you’re just too far away from to make out the smallest lettering. 

He very nearly retched at the thought of it all. He didn’t even realize his fingernails were leaving raw, throbbing circles now, swirling across his biceps. A sharp, thin whine loosed itself from somewhere outside, and all of a sudden Jaz didn’t have time to worry about retching, he may just start blowing chunks right then and there.

The only way he could describe the feeling was like that of the world’s least fun rollercoaster- something close to the Tower of Terror, but in reverse. His insides lagged behind whatever unnatural force was yanking him into the air.

“Holy- WATCH IT!!” He spat, hoping desperately he could be heard through the polyester and fleece. A pause told him he was heard, and he gladly accepted the much slower descent to a floor. 

Damn, who the hell let this roid-rager out around normal people? Doesn’t she know that I’m literally- 

Jaz suddenly became quite aware of how deeply his nails could go into his arms. He flinched and loosed his grip on himself, seeing pinpricks of blood on a few of the impressions his fingernails had left behind. Outside the tent of a glove, Quinn was somewhere far off giving a long spiel about showering or something. 

Showering… ‘something something naked’... Damn, is now really the time for this? Jaz was exhausted, he felt he had enough of women for the next few days. Preparing his usual script, he emerged to politely shoot her down and give her a proper rejection. Quinn, however, had scurried away. Out of sight, to some distant closet all the way on the other side of the kitchen.

Jaz felt strangely about such a massive woman truly scurrying, the way Quinn just had. Maybe she’s not as godzilla as previously thought. But looking around, he had a lot more than that to feel unsettled by than just the girl who uber’d him. 

Everything. All of it was huge.

This apartment was a stadium to Jaz- no, even bigger. A colosseum, made of plywood and layers and layers of landlord-special paint. There was so much to take in- the mural-sized art pieces on the miles-away walls, the countertop longer than a nascar track, the floor, all the way down there. That nauseous feeling came clawing back, pinching Jaz’s throat and behind his nose and cramping his stomach. 

He had to look away. 

Turning eagerly to look at what was right in front of him, he found a steaming ceramic tub was waiting patiently with two thick towels, the size of tennis courts, flung to either side. 

The realization of Quinn’s actual intention now finally dawned on him, “Oh, shower.”

Eager to get out of the stuffy tent-glove, Jaz kicked his way free of the damp, beaded, fleece lining. A cold chill hit him, and he was forced to remember why he was in that glove to begin with.

Jaz had never been shy about his birthday suit- he worked very hard for his toned and fit physique, and was known to half the campus to jump at any chance to put it on display. 

In that moment, though- standing on a countertop, the nearest “floor” being a hundred foot plummet away, and the closest exit truly impossible for him to access or use…

Jaz felt naked. He felt utterly exposed.

It was a new, supremely unpleasant feeling. His hands went back to his biceps, and he quickly recoiled at the sting. His eyes flitted to the scratches and his gaze lingered. Ever so slightly, his shoulders rose and tensed, an almost unnoticeable flicker of weakness breathed through his knees. 

Fuck it, I can clean up if I’m staying the night. Jaz clambered into the mug, steeling himself. He silently begged the near scalding water to burn out the unpleasantness- trying to find a distraction in this new sting.

A nebulous sort of respite tentatively descended upon him.

“Besides, I haven’t even really introduced myself.”

#Quinn and Jaz #My writing #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #macro/micro #giant #g/t community #gt #giantess #minors dni

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

(3) WHAT LOVE DID THEN, LOVE DOES NOW [r.l]

“They wanted each other in the way of flesh wanting to knit itself together over a wound.” — ‘these violent delights’, micah nemerever

pairing. rowan laslow x vampire!reader

warnings. swearing, mention of sex + death, spoilers for wednesday s1

summary. a certain someone approaches you and rowan.

word count. 3k

>pt1, pt2, pt3

iii. 

You completely - and I mean totally, wholly, entirely - underestimated Enid Sinclair’s gossiping capabilities.

The both you had expected her to tell a few people, maybe, just get it out there that, “wow, Rowan and [Name], are, like, totally boning, oh, and he’s a vampire now.”

The whole nonchalant gossiping thing. You’ve seen it happen — aw, Bianca’s dating Xavier, oh, wait, they're over; Davina and Sinclair’s older brother were caught after curfew, that’s nice; one of the fangs knocked out a normie on Outreach Day, go them! 

You didn’t know how out of proportion things could get. You were no expert on gossiping - that was Yoko’s thing. 

Maybe it was because she was younger than you. These days, being older than two centuries felt like you were a fucking senior citizen. 

By next morning, several Fangs had knocked on your door asking about you and Rowan. By pure ‘coincidence’, Rowan would walk by the door, or maybe he’d call you back to ‘bed’, and the inquisitive Fangs in question would gasp, quickly say goodbye, and leave.

In actuality, you and Rowan had practiced this after the first fellow Vampire had come by and asked. By some terrible stroke of luck, Weem’s had permitted Rowan to move out of his dorm with Xavier Thorpe and move into your empty one, as your whole reason for turning him had been to stay together forever.

Ugh. Curse Weems and her disgustingly romantic heart. 

When the two of you arrived in your first period (you in Latin, Rowan in Fencing), you had been bombarded with either questions or whispers (you with questions, Rowan surrounded by whispers, which didn’t really bother him. It was like a regular day of being an outcast freak, except now, instead of laughing behind his back, everyone shied away from his gaze.) 

You reconvened at lunch, hiding in your dorm to take a break from everyone’s unabashed staring. Even on your way to Karnstein Hall, people popped up left and right, scrambling from their place across the room to see you two up close — holding hands, of course, as you had to keep up appearances.

“So,” you said, putting down your dorm keys on your bedside table, “How was your morning?”

“Ugh,” Rowan groaned, flopping down onto his bed across from yours — which was still bare, as he’d moved in just the night before — “don’t even ask. I was okay with the whispers, but by third period Seance I had people coming up to me and asking for details.”

You shrugged off your Nevermore zip-up, throwing it onto your bed. “God, I saw Davina eyeing me from across the greenhouse - I thought I was gonna get sirened into spilling secr—“

A sharp knock rapted at your cherry-wood door, interrupting your ranting. The both of you paused, far too tired to deal with any more questions. 

“[Name], Rowan, I know you’re in there.” A familiar voice said, before knocking once more. Immediately, your expression grew alarmed.

It was Wednesday Addams knocking on your door. 

You inched closer to the door, hand hesitantly grasping around the brass knob. From behind you, Rowan looked like he’d rather die again than open the door.

He had told you about his mother’s painting and her psychic abilities - the reason why he had attempted to kill her - and how he still couldn’t trust her. Despite how Rowan knew that psychic powers weren’t the most reliable, and could even make one go crazy - like his mothers had - he still held the utmost trust in her.

Nonetheless, Rowan obliged when you mouthed to him: “Weems is on her case. Any wrong move and she’ll be done for.”

Twisting the knob slowly, you cracked the door open a few inches. “Hi, Wednesday.” You pasted on a bright smile, all teeth and, on purpose, entirely, noticeably, fake.

“I need to talk to Rowan.” She said shortly, black eyes boring into your own. They were completely devoid of emotion, blank and lifeless. If you ever saw her laying on the floor with the same expression, you’d think she was dead. 

“I’m afraid we’re,” You grinned larger, trying to flush some color into your cheeks, “having some quality couple time.”

She furrowed her brows. You lifted a hand onto her shoulder, “You get it, righ—“

Suddenly, Wednesday’s head flew back, and her body stiffened. Her back was arched, arms flailed at her side. Wednesday looked completely out of it, eyes rolling to the back of her head, breathing scattered like she was heaving.

“Wednesday?” You whispered, hands curling around her thin arms. “Wednesday!” You repeated, shaking her rapidly when she didn’t come out of her stupor. 

She looked like she was about to convulse, but instead her body held still for a moment, until it grew limp and fell into your arms. 

You gaped. Then, you looked down the hall, left and right, feeling your nerves practically burn on fire at the thought that someone had seen. 

Thankfully, nobody was loitering in your wing of Karnstein Hall, but you knew Yoko was going to grab her herbology kit soon for her next class. 

Decisively, you dragged Wednesday’s sagging body into your room. Then, you gently placed her body in the middle of the room, and locked your dorm door. 

“What happened? What the the fuck did you do?!” Rowan said, springing up from his bed. His panic was evident as the pitch of his voice climbed higher and higher, nervously hopping over Wednesday’s body and standing next to you. 

“Why the hell is that your first thought?! I didn’t do anything!” You said defensively, throwing your arms up in the air. 

“Then how come she’s - passed out like that. Is she passed out? Did you kill her or—“ Rowan’s voice was quickly growing staccato, and he was running out of breath. 

“I didn’t kill her! What are you even saying?! We were just talking—“

“If you were just talking then why is she on the floor, in the middle of our goddamn room?!” Rowan shouted, heaving. 

You were sure Rowan was about to pass out, when Wednesday suddenly lifted her upper body off the floor. It looked like when elder vampires sprung from their coffins, unlike the younger generation of vampires that shed the need for coffins and got their energy from social interaction. Changing times, you guessed.

Wednesday turned to the both of you, almost mechanically, and you both froze on the spot. Her gaze pierced the two of you. It was calculating, all knowing; like she knew secrets you did not.

She drew in a thin breath between the teeth that, suddenly, looked as sharp as knives. “That night - in the forest. You died.” Wednesday looked at Rowan, her eyes tracing the bite scar on his neck. 

“But it wasn't the monster that killed you,” Wednesday continued. Her eyes drifted, latching onto you next. “It was [Name]. They followed the scent of blood, found you… and turned you.”

Wednesday’s dull, lifeless eyes grew a miniscule sheen. “Am I correct?” She said, pushing herself up from the wood floors and dusting her black pants off. 

You looked at Rowan. He looked at you. You both continued like that for several moments, all the while Wednesday stood watching and waiting. She seemed to have no qualms at all about waiting, like an idle game character. 

Never mind Wednesday Addams’s mannerisms — how in god’s fucking name did she know that? In utmost detail, nonetheless, even down to how Rowan’s attack made itself known to you. 

“How - did you...“ Rowan broke the silence, fumbling over his words. His hands animatedly expressed his shock. 

You pressed two fingers between your eyes. “Who told you this? Who saw this, and who else knows?”

If there was even the slightest chance that this information leaked… the two of you would be done for. The possibility of a homicidal monster being known to parents would effectively close the school - and for how long, you did not know. 

(Although Nevermore had never been home, it was single-handedly the only place you and Rowan had ever known so comfortably. 

For centuries, you wandered throughout Europe - through Romania and back again, in France, Italy, Denmark, Istanbul when it had still been Constantinople; every country in the North-Eastern hemisphere you traversed, unable to sit still, unable to get comfortable, unable to feel okay, until you crossed into the Americas, into Nevermore. It was not home, but at least it promised something similar. 

After Rowan’s mother’s death - no, even before she had passed, his house wasn’t home. His mother’s psychic abilities had ailed her - not physically, which had killed her - but in the head. Rowan’s mother had not been herself for at least a decade before she passed, and when she did die, it was saying goodbye to a stranger, loving a figure who did not love you back, nonetheless raise you. 

His father, even moreso, was estranged. Rowan’s father had cherished his mother more than anything in the entire world; more than the family business, more than their heaps of wealth, more than Rowan himself. 

When she died, in that large, empty, home, the warm part of his father died with her. 

Despite the way he was treated at school, he preferred Nevermore over his house, because at least he was treated with contempt. In the Laslow family estate, Rowan was not treated with anything at all. In that empty house, Rowan felt like a ghost. No one spoke to each other, no one spoke to him, and his father drowned himself in his work. 

Nevermore was for the fleeing. You and Rowan fit those conditions entirely. It welcomed the fearful, the alone, the outcast. It attempted to make something of a home out of you all, and even if it didn’t fill the gap in you and Rowan, it, at the very least, filled some of it. 

So closing the school could not happen.)

“Nobody told me this. I did not see this matter in the way you think. And no-one else knows, excluding you two, and now me.” 

“You lie,” You said. There was no other way she’d get a hold of such intimate details. 

If possible, Wednesday looked slightly offended at the connotation. “I have not lied for the entirety of this conversation.” 

And lie again. You sucked air in through your teeth, taking short and rapid breaths. What right did she have, knocking on your door and passing out, barging into your business, all knowing and spilling your every secret? 

What did she want? 

Something dawned on you, your eyes widening with each passing second. Passing out? All knowing—

Wednesday looked you both in the eye. Her gaze was as transparent as glass, and it looked as though she was prepared to lay all her cards on the table. 

“I suppose, as I’ve found out your secret, I must tell you mine. A quid pro quo, of sorts.” 

“You did not see it in the way we think,” You thought to yourself, piecing together Wednesday’s vaguely knit puzzle of words. 

Wednesday’s hands clasped together. “I get visions. Of the past, or the future.” 

You and Rowan looked at one another once more. That would explain many things, but you both still regarded the Addams’ daughter with a certain distrust. You did so for reasons you could not quite understand, but perhaps it was her eeriness that held such a discomforting air that made you both need more convincing. 

She turned to Rowan, “On Harvest Day, I saw you die. No more, no less. Before you did so, I did not see you try to kill me. Until now, I did not see [Name] save you.”

Rowan’s eyes thinned. “What else have you seen?” He said, distrustingly. 

Wednesday looked similarly distrusting, which was not surprising, as Rowan had tried to kill her. Nonetheless, she answered. “I witnessed a Jericho civilian’s death by cervical fracture before he died.” 

“These visions… you cannot control them?” You said, interrupting Rowan and Wednesday’s impromptu death-staring contest. 

Wednesday blinked. “Touch seems to be a common factor. But no.”

“Are they all knowing? Fixed?” Rowan scrutinized, an unashamed attempt at sleuthing. 

Wednesday, in her limited ability to show much emotion, seemed pensive. “To claim my visions are omniscient would be superbia. However, their accuracy has not yet failed me.”

You bit the skin on your nails. You could feel a drumming in your head, and you could imagine that was what a thrumming heart was like. 

Everything you asked, Wednesday seemed to answer - or perhaps, counter - completely. She left no room for suspicion, completely devoid of holes in her story. 

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay - fine. Yes, I turned Rowan. I - smelt his blood from the festival, followed the trail, and decided the only way I could save him was to turn him.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, acknowledging. “Smart decision on your part. In terms of eye-witness testimonies to the monster, all victims dead meant no accounts.” Wednesday’s gaze then turned to Rowan, whose previously impugning attitude disappeared. 

“I - didn’t see much.” Rowan began, in a meek voice. “As much as you saw, Wednesday. Maybe even less.”

“It does not particularly have to be what the creature looked like. Anything at all that you may remember,” she said, placing her hands in front of her expectantly.

He grimaced. “It… reminded me of a werewolf.” Rowan started, before quickly shaking his head. “But it wasn’t one. No, it was… violent; out of control.” Rowan bit his lip, thin, pointed fangs nipping at the skin so hard he nearly drew blood. “I remember it staring me down - with those huge, crazed eyes. But it - It looked like it… knew what it was doing. Like they - it, was attacking me intentionally.”

Silence filled the room, and it felt like a cold draft blew in, despite zero openings. The environment grew tense, and you looked at Rowan. If possible, he looked paler than before, a certain despair settling into the lines of his soft face. 

A heavy guilt weighed on your shoulders. Of course he wouldn’t want to talk about the monster that almost killed him. In what world would one happily talk about their near-murderer? 

Breaking the silence, Wednesday hummed. “Intelligence, rather than animalistic instinct. Interesting.” 

“I - think it’s best if you go now, Wednesday.” You said, looking at Rowan’s blank stare. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and he looked elsewhere. Far away from the now, melting in his memories. 

Wednesday blinked, and looked as if she wanted to say much more, but settled with a curt nod, and exited your dorm room. Before she left, she said, “Try not to let this conversation of ours leave the room. I have reason to believe the monster may very well kill all who know about it.”

After Wednesday left, it was just the two of you in the room. The awkward silence suffocated you both, like a noose constricting around your neck. Any words you wished to say died on your lips, their ghosts coming out as mere sighs. 

“I’m sorry.” You said finally, turning away from Rowan, who now lay still on his bed. He looked akin to a corpse in a casket during an open funeral viewing. 

“What for?” Rowan droned dully, eyes trained on the popcorn ceiling above you. You knew he wasn’t really listening, and he wasn’t really answering. His mind was so far between from his body, his subconscious answering for him. 

“We didn’t have to tell her. We didn’t have to answer. I didn’t mean to force you.”

Rowan didn’t answer, at least not for a long moment. Your simultaneous breathing was all that could be heard; in and out, in and out.

Finally, Rowan let out a breath of air that was tattered, ragged and tired. He sounded worn out; aching. “We had to tell her. She already knew.” He tried to catch his fleeting breath, “And you didn’t force me. I chose to tell her what I saw. What tried to kill me.”

“I’m sorry,” You said, turning to face him. Rowan’s body had turned to face the wall, on his side with his legs pulled up to his chest. “for everything.”

“It’s not your fault.” Rowan whispered, almost inaudibly. 

You inched closer, until you were at the edge of his bed. You kneeled beside him, and in the softest voice you could muster: “I’m sorry for turning you. This - being what I am - isn’t anything good at all. It - isn’t what you’re supposed to be.”

“I’m - it wasn’t my choice to make; I — I turned you into something you’re not. Something terrible.”

Rowan rolled over, meeting you face to face. His light brown eyes glistened with small, shining tears, brows furrowed. “You - saved me. I’m not human anymore but I’m — I’m still alive.” His eyes coursed over your melancholic face, “That’s more than anyone else could do.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a broken toy. The guilt of turning a human into something they should never be, twisted your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You felt sick, icky for playing God with someone’s life, for playing God with Rowan’s fundamental being. “I should’ve never—“

“If you never turned me, I’d be dead, alright?” Rowan said gruffly, pushing himself upright from the mattress. He wiped furiously at his wet eyes, “It doesn’t matter if I was human, or not. I would’ve been dead. Gone. Okay? Stop -“ He pressed his shaking hands together, “stop saying you’re sorry.” 

Your lips opened and parted, your throat deathly dry. Words you couldn’t muster clawed at your esophagus, rendering you silent. 

Turning Rowan had been, what you felt, like the greatest sin in your entire, long, lifespan. You thought - that deep down, Rowan hated you for it.

“I’m sorry.” You looked him in the eye, weak on the floor. You could only ever imagine repenting for turning him. It was a taboo act - one you knew saved him, for certain, but had ruined him. 

You had been born ruined; born without the ability to be saved. There was no reason to condemn Rowan like so; to take away the humanity you so desperately wanted. 

Rowan’s eyes crinkled, a sad smile tightening on his lips. He knew he couldn’t change your mind, no matter how much he wanted to. “Don’t be.” 

#rowan laslow x reader #calum ross #wednesday #calum ross x reader #rowan laslow

[sleeplesssmoll]

Headcanon: Vertin goes to Madam Z and Tooth Fairy for advice.

Vertin notices Sotheby's gotten a bit taller.

She's growing up.

Eventually, she and any other younger arcanists she recruits are going to start asking questions.

The Foundation doesn't have growth and development as part of the curriculum since it's deemed unnecessary. The only reason she was taught is because Madam Z and Tooth Fairy took it upon herself to educate her after she started asking those very same questions. Madam Z usually lent her a book on the topic and Tooth Fairy clarified anything she was confused about.

Vertin decides to go to them for advice and prepare herself for the inevitable.

Luckily, Tooth Fairy also happened to be in Madam Z's office making the whole embarrassing process one step shorter.

At first Madam Z is alarmed by Vertin's grave expression. However, when the Timekeeper reveals the reason behind her visit she cracks a smile.

Madam Z tried to match Vertin's seriousness but seeing Vertin diligently jotting down notes as they spoke was a sight to see. If only she was that studious in class.

Tooth Fairy doesn't bother hiding her amusement but she offers to answer the children's questions for Vertin if she'd like.

Vertin appreciates the offer but states it might be embarrassing for her arcanists to bring up to a stranger. She wants to at least try answering them first. She wants to make them as comfortable as possible, the same way Madam Z and Tooth Fairy did for her.

Tooth Fairy and Madam Z are taken off guard by the sudden praise. Madam Z recovers and reminds Vertin they're still here for her. She can ask them anything.

The flood gates open.

"What should I do if someone breaks their heart? Should I set a curfew? I want them to have freedom but I don't want them to get hurt—"

Tooth Fairy and Madam Z share a glance.

Madam Z simply states, "Communication is key."

Vertin seems satisfied with this answer.

Madam had Z kept the books all these years just in case Vertin or some other child had more questions. She let's Vertin take them and warns her to not let them get turned into mud. Vertin smirks and promises to be careful. She thanks them both and heads out the door.

Madam Z watches her back retreat down the hall for a moment before closing the door. "I haven't seen Vertin this stressed in a long time."

Tooth Fairy touches her pouch of baby teeth. "Vertin...she's gotten taller again hasn't she?"

Madam Z smiles softly, "Just a bit."

Update: Fixed some typos

#reverse1999 #reverse1999 HC #vertin #tooth fairy #madam z #these are more like drabbles at this point #its all fun and games until Sonetto starts asking her questions too #the kids ask druvis the adult #she tells them to ask Vertin or makes something up like babies come from seeds basked in moonlight and washed in lovers tears

[dw19791967]

That Type of Girl Part 3

Pairing: Dean x reader (Eventual), Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of self-hate.

This is the third fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me!

______________________________

What does one wear to church? I wouldn’t know since I never really went as a kid and as an adult well, once you know who God really is, it can be hard to get past that. 

I decided on a long oversized maroon sweater, black leggings, and boots. I never really was a heels girl. Sure, I could handle a wedge or boots with a chunky heel, but I definitely wasn’t the type to wear six inch heels. I decided to leave my hair in its natural state, but I did twist my bangs together and pinned them back. I can’t braid, no matter how many times I have tried to learn. So twisting two pieces together is my go to, especially to get hair out of my face. I applied my regular makeup routine. I do it for me, not to impress people. I may be overweight and unappealing in other aspects but my makeup is something I am proud of. Years of practice have helped make it easy, and quick.

I walked out of the bathroom ready to go. “Alright boys, let’s do this.”

__________________

When we arrived at the church not a ton people were there. There was a small group gathered. A few women, they seemed to be in their late 20’s and a couple of men who seemed to be around the same age.

“Ok Y/N you ready? Remember, Dean and I will be here if you need us. We are going to try to scope the place out a bit” Sam looked at me. I am glad he was confident in my people skills, cause right now I am not. I do fine talking with people I know and even strangers. But the pressure of trying to force a conversation can be a struggle sometimes. And since Dean didn’t seem too confident in my skills earlier, I have been dreading this. How is it that the man who is supposedly my best friend, doesn’t believe I am capable of doing something I have done a hundred times before. 

“I guess.” I started heading towards the group of people.

__________________

We just arrived back at the motel. Sam sat down next to me “Well we found nothing, we checked all over the place. Nothing suspicious, no sulfur or EMF.” 

“Yeah and all the single chicks were a bust too.” Dean smiled.

Of course he would be worried about chasing tail.

I sighed. “Ok, I talked to a group of people at the church. They mentioned a guy Sarah worked with, his name was Ryan not sure on last name (Sarah was the most recent victim). They also mentioned Sarah had a crush on a dude at the church, Marshall. And last one, she had talked to Rick quite a bit at the church. One of the ladies said Rick has just been in town the last 2 weeks. Something seems off with Rick, but I’m not really sure what.” I looked over the case files again. I always like to make sure I am not missing anything.

“Well since we are at a stand still, I say it’s time to hit the bar. We need a break from researching and thinking.” Dean stood up.

“Maybe you're right, we can take a break and come back to it later.” Sam looked at me. “What do you say Y/N?”

“I think I’m going to stay here, try to figure out what is happening. Something is wrong in this whole equation.” I kept reading the files. I am also not in the mood to see Dean flirt tonight. But I will keep that thought to myself.

“Well party pooper, call if you need us.” Dean patted my shoulder. 

Maybe a break from the boys will do me some good.

I had just changed into a t-shirt and took my makeup off when there was a knock at the door. I figured one of the boys was back and forgot their key.

“I swear you guys can’t survive without me.” I headed for the door.

I cracked the door open. Rick. What the hell is he doing here?

“Hi Y/N, I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I just wanted to check on you and see if you maybe needed anything.” He rubbed the back of his neck. A nervous tick maybe.

“Um, I appreciate that. How did you know I was here?” This is weird for sure.

“Oh my aunt owns this motel, so I checked with her and she said you were here. She also mentioned you had two guys with you. Are you going to let me in?” He smiled at me.

“Uh, I guess.” I grabbed my knife and stuck it in the back of my leggings. A girl can never be too safe.

“So who are the guys here with you, brothers?” Rick made his way into the room.

“No, just friends. They came to be supportive. Can I get you a beer or water?” I had told the group of people at the church I was a cousin of Sarah’s, since she had no family in town it was an easy lie.

“I’ll have a beer, thanks.” I handed him the drink. “So where are your friends?”

“Out, they should be back shortly.” I was getting nervous. Something was not right here. 

“Oh I doubt that Y/N. You know Dean always enjoys working on his night moves.” Rick's eyes flashed black. Next thing I know everything went black.

Oh I am so screwed.

_______________

“Wakey, wakey sunshine. God, I can’t believe how stupid you are for a hunter. Who the hell lets someone they barely know into their hotel room?" Rick poked at me.

We were in an abandoned warehouse. I was cuffed to a chair. This wasn’t exactly how I planned on my night going.

“Well, what can I say? I’m prone to making stupid decisions. So why don’t we just cut the foreplay. What do you want? ” I smiled.

Whack. Damn. I almost had forgotten what it was like to get the shit knocked out of me.

“You know, all of the women I took. There was nothing exciting about them. I mean they wonder why they are single. Maybe it’s because they are so damn boring. But you, I mean besides being overweight and homely, there's a certain spark to you. And once I found out you were a hunter, well you had to be my next victim.” He smoothed my hair out.

“So are you doing this for shits and giggles or is there a bigger agenda you are playing into?” He made his way over to a table and brought back a knife. Great.

“Oh sweet Y/N, of course I am doing this for me. You see, I have played by all the rules and followed the main man's plan. But it’s time for me to shine and this is just the beginning. So whatcha say, are you ready to have some fun?” Rick started to slice into my arm.

Lucky for me, I have a high pain tolerance.

“You see, you were an easy target. Your self esteem is so low. Plus can’t forget your little crush on the elder Winchester. What makes you think he would ever look at you twice?” Rick now started slicing my thighs. “I mean you have a pretty face for sure, but you know Dean prefers his women slim. You will never be that type of girl ya know?”

“Screw you. You don’t know the first thing about me. I mean you do realize anything you say to me, I have either heard or said it to myself a thousand times before? Way to be creative.” I laughed. I have always been stubborn. I’m sure as hell not going to stop now.

“You know, you are really starting to get on my nerves. How about I find a way to shut that pretty mouth up. I doubt the Winchesters would even miss your annoying ass.” Rick punched me in the face.

I spit blood out of my mouth. I hope he gets this over with soon.

Tag List:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

#dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn fanfiction #supernaturalfanfic

[kpop-kitkat]

Attention | Kim Sunwoo

pairing | dom bf!kim sunwoo x sub f!reader

genre/cw | smut(minors istg do not interact or you're blocked), fluff, a bit of crack/humor, explicit language, gamer!sunwoo, established relationship, slight degradation, praise, dirty talk, pull out method, daddy kink, use of whore and slut, pet names, teasing, sunwoo is a whiney dom(omg can you imagine ahh), slight moan kink, aftercare, fluffy end

wc | 2.2k

notes | who doesn't love gamer boy smuts, I mean come on

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧  

Y/n smiled to herself as she got the very much needed text. After waiting a whole day, it was a sight to see.

Sunwoo💕: finishing up practice. home soon baby girl

Y/n: yay, see ya soon

She squealed before tossing her phone onto the couch. In any normal relationship, nobody would be that excited when their lover returned home from a normal day at work. And in Sunwoo’s case, he was an idol, staying a bit later for extra practice for an upcoming comeback. But Y/n and Sunwoo were only three weeks into living together. Who could blame her?

On an impulse of energy, she began cleaning the apartment, every nook and cranny. Coats on the coat rack, dishes in the dishwasher, books in the bookshelf, everything in its place. She didn't even realize how fast she was doing it until she felt sweat, sticky on her forehead. She sighed before collapsing onto the sofa, wanting nothing more than Sunwoo cuddles, and maybe something a bit more. She couldn't help but imagine all the filthy scenarios in her head.

The sound of keys jangling as the front door was unlocked and opened, made her jolt upwards, off of the sofa. She ran over to her boyfriend and jumped, arms and legs around his neck and waist.

 "Whoah, miss me that much baby girl?" Sunwoo smirked, holding her body close to his as he kissed her cheek.

 "I was alone all day," she pouted with her bottom lip stuck out, raising her head up from his shoulder to look up at him.

 He chuckled before kissing her pouty lips. "Sorry. I'll have to make a daily reminder: don't be late or girlfriend gets moody," he teased. 

 "How dare you," she playfully smacked his chest before untangling herself from his grip. "You should wash up, dinner is almost ready."

 "What? You cooked?" Sunwoo's jaw dropped.

 "No stupid, the Uber Eats driver is ten minutes away. Now go," she laughed, shoving him towards the stairs.

He eventually went up to take a shower and change his clothes. When he came back down, Y/n was already enjoying her ramen without him. "Hey, you should've waited for me!" He exclaimed, running to the kitchen island, digging through the brown paper bag, sighing in relief seeing how Y/n left him a bowl. She had actually eaten his food once after the two had gotten into a silly arguement. "Thanks for not eating my food."

 "You're welcome."

Sunwoo chuckled with a shake of his head as he took a seat besides her at the kitchen island. He licked his lips as he took the lid off of his food, twirling his plastic fork in hand. He took a bite and sighed in satisfaction before turning to his girlfriend. "So, what did you do while I was gone?"

 "I cleaned, aren't you proud of me?" She replied, also taking a bite of her food.

 "I did notice the apartment was cleaner when I got back. I'm surprised you did it voluntarily," he explained, earning an elbow to the stomach from her.

 "Well, at least I was productive. I even took a walk and did our laundry," she added.

 "Look at you," he laughed, swallowing his food so he wouldn't choke. He was about to say something when his phone buzzed.

 "Who's that?" Y/n wondered.

 "Chanhee and Changmin. They want to play some Halo in fifteen," he answered. 

 "Can I see?" Y/n tilted her head.

Y/n and Sunwoo were currently building trust in their relationship, so looking at each other's text messages was something they always did. 

Sunwoo nodded and handed his phone over to Y/n. 

(On Sunwoo's phone)

Chanheee: halo in 15?

Q: ya, gotta finish this birthday card for jaehyun. count me in. hbu sunwoo?

Y/n smirked to herself, and Sunwoo understood her plan.

 "No, babe, please let me reply," Sunwoo reached out for his phone, but she leaned over, out of his reach.

 "I promised I'd play with them earlier!" The boy protested. 

 "Whatever," she handed the phone back to its rightful owner, hesitantly. 

Sunwoo(actually Sunwoo): JK y'all, I'll be on in less than fifteen ;)

Y/n pouted. "You don't want to watch a movie or something?"

 "Maybe later babe, I made a promise," he smiled, holding the back of her neck to pull her in for another kiss, a lasting one this time. He pulled away after awhile. "I love you."

 "I love you too," she sighed. "But I want cuddles."

 "You're literally a human koala. You can live without me for two hours. Entertain yourself," he playfully rolled his eyes before ascending the stairs.

She huffed and looked around. "But there's nothing to do," she thought aloud.

~~~~~

Y/n quietly entered the bedroom as Sunwoo was immersed in his games. She decided to scroll aimlessly through TikTok as she lay on their shared bed, attempting to cure her boredom.

 "No no! He's by our base!" Sunwoo shouted, following a loud mashing on the keyboard and loud clicks on the mouse. "I swear I'll kill you if you suicide one more time Chanhee hyung."

Y/n looked up and almost laughed at how Sunwoo was a whole new person in the world of video games.

 "I'm going to kill you!" Sunwoo raged. Y/n guessed Chanhee committed suicide again, I'm game of course.

Y/n was deprived of her boyfriend. Even though he promised it'd be two hours, it was coming up on four. "Baby..." she whined, but Sunwoo couldn't hear through his headphones. She walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, not earning any response other than a shake of shoulders. Unsatisfied, she moved in front of him and put her legs on either side of him, sitting on his lap and leaning her head into his chest.

 "Hold up," Sunwoo moved the headphone mic away from his face. "Baby what are you doing?"

 "Cuddling with you, I'm bored," she answered truthfully.

 "But-" he paused, seeing how the next game had already started. "Fine, just no distractions, okay?"

She nodded. But it didn't mean she wasn't going to distract anyways.

He moved the mic back to his mouth. "Aight, let's go."

Y/n clutched his warm sweatshirt and breathed in his scent, finding it very calming. It smelt like ocean water and new books, two of her favorite smells. And while she was comfortable in her position she was still bored. And not to mention, getting horny from sitting on his lap for some time.

Deciding on causing mischief and a distraction, she began to move, rubbing her clothed heat against his sweatpants. It was painfully slow, but also pleasuring. Sunwoo seemed unfazed by her actions, still shouting at his friends as they played an intense match. But when she began to move faster, causing the friction she wanted, he began to fidget as he played, even stumbling over his words. "Y-yeah it's..." he took a deep breath. "B-by that fountain by the fountain, I-I mean mountain." Y/n smiled. Her plan seemed to be working. Taking it a step further, she leaned over his shoulder and quietly moaned into his ear, silently turning him on.

 "What was that?" Asked Chanhee through the game.

 "Nothing, it's nothing," Sunwoo brushed him off. But oh, it was definitely something.

Y/n smirked to herself. Everything was going according to plan. She grasped Sunwoo's shoulders as she allowed herself more room to move. Back and forth, back and forth, at the perfect pace. And she didn't contain her dirty little noises.

 "Okay Sunwoo, something is making noise on your end," Changmin concluded. 

 "It was the wind," Sunwoo chuckled nervously as he bit back a moan of his own.

"The wind?" Y/n thought to herself. Nonetheless, she played her final card. Moving away from Sunwoo's chest, she reached down to feel him through his sweatpants. She was pleasantly surprised to find him already so hard for her. It turned her on even more. She began stroking his length, causing him to shut his eyes tightly and bite his lips to the point of them bleeding.

 "Guys, Imma head to bed, I'm," he took a deep breath, trying not to moan. "Just tired after today."

 "That's fine. See y'all tomorrow," said Chanhee.

 "See ya," Changmin said before going offline. 

Sunwoo ripped his headphones off and threw them onto the ground beside him before tightly grasping her wrists. "What do you think you're doing, baby girl?"

 "Pleasuring daddy, because I know he wants me to," she said, acting all innocent as her eyes sparkled.

He quickly stood up before sweeping her off of her feet, carrying her to the bed before throwing her onto it. She loved it when he was rough. He climbed on after her and pinned her hands above her head before kissing her roughly. She tugged at his blonde tresses as he held her jaw tightly. He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes. "Such an attention whore, aren't you? Couldn't wait another thirty minutes to have my cock inside you, hmm?"

 "No, I missed you daddy," she whined, feeling herself getting wetter, to the point of it being hot and uncomfortable.

 "Tell me what you need, baby girl," he continued to kiss her, tasting her as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. "Tell me what my pretty little whore needs so bad."

 "I need you... to fuck me," she breathed out, biting his bottom lip.

 "Like always... you fucking whore," he smirked. He began kissing his way down her neck feverishly, as Y/n held his shoulders tightly. He then began to pull his own shirt over his head, revealing his well toned body that never ceased to amaze Y/n. His attention was then on her clothes. "We don't need this, do we?" He hummed, lifting her shirt over her head. "What about this? No, don't need this either," he smirked, tugging down her silk shorts, revealing her completely soaked panties. It was even dripping with her arousal. "Oh baby girl, you're soaked," he pouted as he touched her through the thin fabric, eliciting a loud moan from her. "Do you need my help?"

 "Yes daddy please, I need you," she whined aloud, moving her hands to his abs. 

 He tugged down his sweatpants and underwear in one swift move before turning around to pump himself before turning back to her. He licked his lips before slipping down her panties. "Take it like a good girl, my little slut. You asked for it."

 There was no time for her to verbally respond before the head of Sunwoo's cock invaded her entrance. She gasped, holding onto Sunwoo's shoulders as the pleasure overwhelmed her senses. "Feel good baby girl?"

 "Yes Sunwoo... oh fuck," she whimpered, arching her back as her head fell backwards.

 "Keep moaning my name, lovely," he ordered, beginning to thrust deeper into her, if it was even possible. 

 "Sunwoo!" she screamed, feeling him hit her g-spot repetitively. She then pulled him down to kiss his lips again, savoring his taste. He responded and with one hand, he held the side of her face. The other was keeping her hips in place as he thrusted a bit harshly now.

 "Sunwoo, I'm going to... ahh," she cried.

 "Not yet baby girl, wait for me," he ordered, afterwards letting out a bit of a high pitched moan. And Y/n couldn't explain it, but she loved the sound of it. The way his hair fell messy upon his forehead as his thrusts got sloppy and he became a moaning mess, despite being the dominant one... she just loved it all. She loved knowing she pleasured him as much as he did her.

 "Sunwoo, I can't," she begged, her pussy already becoming sore as he hit her spot. 

 "Alright, come with me," he said, moaning once more as he pulled out, his white hot liquid dripping onto her stomach. She moaned as well, her liquids pouring out onto the sheets. Sunwoo sighed before collapsing beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Great job baby girl," he smiled, kissing all over her face. He then sat up. "Let's get you cleaned up." He left for the bathroom and speedily returned with a rag wet with warm water. Carefully, he wiped his cum from her stomach and tried to wipe some of hers from the sheets as well. He tossed the rag in the dirty laundry basket before slipping on his underwear and sweatpants again, Y/n also putting her clothes back on. He and Y/n moved into their spots in bed and looked at each other. "I love you," he breathed out, moving hair from her face.

 "I love you more," she smiled, snuggling into his chest. 

 At the end of the day, she got what she wanted. Sunwoo cuddles.

#kim sunwoo #sunwoo #tbz #the boyz #tbz sunwoo #the boyz sunwoo #smut #fluff #humor #crack #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo smut #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo ff #tbz x reader #tbz smut #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #the boyz smut #the boyz x reader #the boyz ff #tbz ff #kpop #kpop boy group #kpopidol #kpop boys #kpop smut #kpop fluff

[hotchs-big-hands]

The Slaughterhouse

Part 1|Part 2| Part 3

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader

5.3k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, graphic murder description, injury, gore, blood, fatphobia, extreme angst (with a happy ending), sort-of enemies to lovers, kidnapping, torture, references to SA, derogatory nsfw comments. Oh and I use the word fat because I personally reclaimed it to not rly insult me as it is merely a descriptive word. I do not use it in an insulting way even once in the series.

Please heed the warnings, this series is going to be dark asf. No smut in this series tho.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

Omg dun dun dunnn I wonder what's gonna happen. This chapter is pretty rough so please take care :( I hope you all enjoy tho! Thank you for reading so far!

This was his fault, Aaron Hotchner thought as soon as the line died. Right from the moment he had walked out of the bathroom his chest lurched horribly at the sight of the empty room and he scrambled to grab his phone to send you a text immediately, simultaneously sending one to the group chat as well.

Now he was already pulling his clothes back on as soon as you never acknowledged the messages, frantically struggling with his trousers to get them back up over slightly damp legs and calling you. For every second it rang out the sickening feeling in his stomach began to rise. No response, voicemail. A second call. No response. The team were preparing to gather downstairs as he fumbled with his remaining clothes, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his jacke-

No keys.

You'd taken the car keys from his jacket. He swore under his breath. Hotch swung the jacket over his arm and dashed out the hotel room, barely bothering with locking the door behind him. The stairs were quicker, making it to the foyer in mere seconds. He tried calling again, the line was busy. All hope that perhaps you were talking to one of the others fell through when Prentiss and JJ appeared, the raven haired woman holding her phone to her ear in a panic. She shook her head when they met eyes. No response for her either.

Hotch swallowed thickly as shortly behind the two women appeared Dave, Morgan and Reid.

“No sign of her at all?” Morgan was the first to speak, rushing over. It appeared he was wearing the same trousers, only likely having time to partially begin settling for the evening before he redressed in a new shirt to regroup. Hotch clenched his hand into a tight fist, feeling his anxiety bubble in his gut. His thumb grazed across his knuckles self-soothingly.

“She took the car keys from my jacket. We need Garcia to track the SUV (Y/n)’s in.” He spoke quickly, fumbling with his phone to dial your number again. “Someone call Garcia, please.”

The others shared a look when your first name tumbled from his mouth, but now wasn't the time to point it out to him. This was the first time anyone had heard him call you by your first name, something that none of them had heard him do before, but it would be a lie if they were to say they didn't think he had been struggling not to refer to you as such.

It was a common subject of discussion between the group; when would either of you finally crack and make a move on the other. Watching the two of you tiptoe around each other, Hotch trying to remain professional as though he wasn't on the brink of telling the world “fuck it” and confessing his feelings for you, while you were stuck in a limbo of longing for the man but understandably assuming the man wanted nothing more than a work relationship with you. The whole thing was becoming almost unbearable.

He had to keep trying to call you. He quickly dialled your number again. The attempt was fruitless. Hotch could feel his teeth gritting and his body trembling. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t forgive himself if something had. If only he had been nicer to you, more warm towards you, maybe things would have turned out differently-

“Aaron,” Dave appeared at his side and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Keep trying, but don’t lose yourself.”

The taller of the two of them closed his eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling. With a slight nod, he dialled your number one more time.

This time, you answered.

“S-sir.” He heard your voice, but it was garbled, surrounded by loud people. His nostrils flared.

“Where the hell are you?!” he hissed frantically, all attempts to calm himself down enough to speak long gone. The eyes of his team were upon him in an instant.

“I…I needed to clear my head.”

Bullshit. His heart was pounding.

“Sounds extremely noisy wherever you are to be doing that.” Hotch clenched his free hand into a tight fist at his side. “So I will ask you again, (L/n). Where are you?”

There was hesitation on the other end of the line and he felt the sense of anxiety spike, he could’ve been sick.

“I…” You hesitated. Something was deeply wrong. Mouth dry, Hotch attempted to clear his throat and prompt you to speak, only for you to beat him to it.

“I…I have to go.”

The line cut off, leaving the haunting tone of a dead line to ring in his ear. You were in danger.

“Hotch?” Prentiss queried. He slowly dropped his arm from holding the phone to his ear.

“She’s in danger.”

“What?”

The group stepped closer, the apprehension on their faces quickly paling to horror. Hotch swallowed dryly. His throat burned.

“It sounded as though she was in a bar or a nightclub. But it sounds like someone confronted her. I-” No, NO. Not again. He couldn’t go through another loss again. His eyes were stinging.

“Aaron. Look at me.”

Dave appeared in his line of sight again and Hotch drew in a shaky breath.

“This is my fault.” He mumbled. The older man shook his head.

“No, it really isn’t. But right now isn’t the time for this conversion, we have to find her and bring her back to safety, yes?”

Just as Hotch opened his mouth to speak, Morgan held his phone out for him to look at.

“Got the location of the vehicle she took. There’s a club about ten minutes from here by car.” He said.

“I’ll contact the police department and the SWAT. We’ll head out on your order.” Dave added, eyeing him. Hotch pocketed his phone. Time was ticking, he knew that. He squared his shoulders and held his head a little higher.

“We should head out, then. Be ready in no more than five minutes.”

Please, hang on a little longer for me, he thought to himself.

There was an immediate stench of viscera and death that invaded your nostrils when you regained consciousness and it forced a gag from your throat. The world was bleary, clearing up with every blink until you could make out cracked and dirty plaster on the walls surrounding you. The room was in disrepair, old stalls with rusting bars separating them lined the sides and slowly the realisation of what you were in began to creep up on you.

This was an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.

“Wh..” nausea lurched your stomach; you couldn’t be so sure if you were grateful for not having eaten or drank much of anything that day. Or was it yesterday? You scrunched your eyes shut.

There was a chuckle from just out of your viewing range.

“Aww, my little piggy is finally awake.” The same voice from before. You attempted to move your arms, only to realise handcrafted leather cuffs bound them either side of your head uncomfortably. You were strapped to a table of sorts, you didn’t want to think about who or what else had been on here before you. He chuckled again and you curled your hands into fists.

“Stop hiding.” You spat.

“Mmm, I don’t think you’re in much of a position to make demands, piggy. But, I’ll humour you.”

Heavy footsteps rounded you from the right and the figure appeared before you. You fought to stop your eyes from widening.

Standing in front of you was a young white man, much as your profile had suggested, with a conventionally attractive face and dark blonde locks of hair pushed up to the right side. He was tall, maybe around 6’, and he wore a white sleeveless top underneath a grey-blue boiler suit- which he wore with the top half tied around his waist. It was the same colour as the boiler suits the employees of the handiwork shop wore. He looked… well, normal. And something about that enraged you more than when you encountered bastards like this on the regular. He snickered, your emotions having slipped on to your face. You needed to calm down, people like him revelled in the emotions their victims expressed.

The man stepped closer to you at the foot of the table and gripped onto the sleeves of his boiler suit to tighten the knot they were tied into.

“Like what you see, pig?”

You shrugged.

“Meh, not really.” You said casually. You didn’t enjoy the emotion that flickered in his pale eyes.

“Oh, I’m more than aware. We’ll get into that, but first,” He leaned to the side to grab something, a plastic poncho, and pulled it over his head. “I’m so rude for not introducing myself. My name is James, I really can’t wait to hear what it sounds like when you scream my name tonight.”

So it was night time, the same night perhaps. You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

James raised a brow, but the smirk that etched his face remained.

“Why? Because I kidnapped a federal agent? I enjoy the thrill of it.” He retorted. “Besides, I don’t discriminate against someone’s profession. If you’re a disgusting fucking piggy then I’m gonna kill you either way. Hell, I’d be doing your unit a favour getting rid of a slob like you from it.”

He stepped closer and bent slightly to pull something up from the sides of the table, making you swallow. Stirrups. You reared back your legs futilely, ready to kick at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You warned. The man let out a laugh.

“If you kick me now, I’ll sever the tendons behind your knees.”

You froze, not resisting when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you towards him until your arms were straightened above your head. You made no noise, staring him down when he clamped your ankles into the stirrups. But as he attempted to spread your legs the fabric of your trousers pulled taut, digging into your large thighs and preventing your legs from parting to his liking. The man narrowed his eyes a little, then fumbled in his back pocket and produced a switchblade. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your eyes widened. In your head you could hear Hotch’s words; don’t show any fear. You were certain if he was here now he would be so disappointed in you.

James lowered the blade to the seam running along the crotch of you pants and you flinched.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Are you stupid? I already told you, you have no say in the matter.” he jeered at you. Then he pressed the blade to the seam and pressed in enough to poke through, then sliced along it until he was able to rip a large hole in the fabric.

You scrunched your eyes tightly shut, feeling humiliated with your thighs and panties on full display to the disgusting man. He let out a chilling laugh.

“Aww, would you look at that. Wearing these cute lil frilly panties for your boss, huh?”

Wh-what? You felt your stomach lurch. How would he-

“Don’t look so surprised, I know about your feelings for your boss.” He said.

You pulled at the stirrups, to no avail with the modifications of more handmade leather cuffs being attached to them, until your ankles creaked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You felt nauseous from the look he gave you, his delight only more evident with every passing second.

“Oh? You wanna hear me say it? I know you yearn for that man, want him to fuck you real good, don’t you? It’s such a shame you’re fucking disgusting though.”

You needed to calm down, breathing deeply in through your nose and out of your mouth as best you could.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Bull-fucking-shit! You’re a bad fucking liar, agent (L/n). You seriously think no one sees it? It’s pathetic really, you being desperately in love with your boss and craving even an ounce of praise from him.” He scoffed then, rounding the table to your right side, threatening to leave your eye line. “I bet you’ve been loving sharing a bed with him, haven’t you?”

The next intake of air lodged in your throat and you choked, chest rising and falling rapidly as you coughed and spluttered. He knew?! This whole time, every moment of this case, he had been watching, stalking. God, if he had seen you sharing a bed then that meant he had seen you curled up to Hotch every fucking night. But how? Your room was up a flight of stairs. Your eyes darted around the room, panic really beginning to sink in and James used the moment to pull over a trolley of various tools, each more stomach-churning than the one before it. And then you noticed it; a little red flashing light amidst the other objects. This… this was being recorded.

“Now, what should I use to loosen you up for me, hm?” He changed the subject casually, dragging his hands over his various tools. “Maybe a knife, cut your pussy open wide for me. Maybe force a bat or an ice pick up there.”

Your chest lurched, your body automatically pulling at your bindings. This couldn’t truly happen, right? In your mind his face appeared, those beautiful brown eyes. Oh… you’d really messed up big time, and you wouldn’t even be able to take responsibility for it. This would be nothing but hefty paperwork and a headache for Hotch to deal with. The thought made your throat tighten, burning and painful as you fought back the urge to cry. You wouldn’t give this fucker the satisfaction of seeing you cry, even if it wasn’t out of fear.

The glint of a large blade harshly returned you to reality and your eyes settled on the large, horrifying blade in James’ hand. He half-smirked, showing off the butcher’s knife to you.

“What do we think, hm? This one should do the job perfectly. After all, it’s used for slicing up animals like you.” He said with a voice full of utter glee. You glared back in retaliation, eyes shining in the dim light of the grimy room.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Something glinted in his eye, then before you knew it he slammed the blade down hard into your mid-thigh and there was nothing to stop the throat-tearing scream that forced its way out of you.

The SUV was still parked outside the club when the team arrived, kevlar vests on with the striking white ‘FBI’ letters spread across the chest area. Mutually, it was decided to go in and make it known why they were there, to ask around as rapidly as possible and send everyone home to safety. With a slight nod at each other, the team rushed in.

“FBI! Turn the lights on and switch that music off, now!” Morgan commanded loudly, earning a flurry of surprised gasps and hushed murmurs. The group spread through the room, eyes darting around as they searched the faces around them.

“I know this is very alarming, but we are in need of the whereabouts of two people who were here recently.” Hotch said in a clear, but stern voice. Two photographs were shown around the club, one with your face on it and the other the face of the suspected unsub, a sight that made him swallow thickly. This shouldn’t have ever been something they needed to do.

At first it was tensely quiet with no one moving, every second ticking by loudly in his head.

“Hotch.” JJ motioned behind him and he turned on his heel, now face to face with a young woman. She appeared nervous before him, avoiding eye contact and hesitating to approach. With a deep breath, Hotch forced himself to relax and soften his facial expression to a point where the woman felt comfortable enough to continue stepping forward.

“I… I saw them by the bar, she had a phone call when a guy approached her. He followed her outside.”

“Any discerning details about the man?” he encouraged. The woman tightly closed her eyes for a second as she tried remembering anything else.

“He was wearing a full body suit like- like Michael Myers or some shit, only it was a lighter greyish colour. Hard to tell under the dim lighting at the time though. He had curly blonde hair too like that picture." She spoke so quickly her words tripped over one another, but it was legible enough for Hotch to know instantly that it was their guy. But that meant…

“Did anyone see where they went when they went outside?” JJ said loudly, but there was no answer. No one knew where he had taken you.

Hotch felt his hands trembling a little and his heart pounded in his chest. Fuck, you must be terrified right now- if you were even alive at this point. He had no way of knowing. The group followed behind him as he abruptly rushed outside with Dave hot on his tail.

“Aaron-”

“We need to hurry. Get Garcia on the line to track where his van is.” He cut the older man off, turning to face the others.

“Already on it.” Morgan said, pressing his phone to his ear.

Hotch’s frown deepened.

“On loudspeaker.”

With a nod the dark-skinned man held his phone out and everyone could hear the shrill tone of the line ringing. It was only a couple of rings before Garcia answered.

“Any sign of her?” The usually peppy and witty voice of Garcia came through more serious and edged with worry, it made Hotch’s stomach turn. He cleared his throat.

“This is Hotch. We haven’t, but we know who took her. I need you to search for James Humphrey’s licence plate and track where the vehicle is now.”

There was clacking on the keyboard on Garcia’s end of the line, moments later she spoke again.

“I got the number plate. You’re looking for a FDK-845 licence plate. Um, let me see where it is currently…” Her voice trailed off and was followed by more clacks of her keyboard.

Then she gasped.

“Garcia?” Morgan called out.

“Oh god…”

“Where is the van now, Garcia?” Hotch questioned her in a less than patient way- something he regretted and filed away to apologise for later.

“I-I’m sorry. The location- it’s an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.” The colourful technical analyst barely managed above a whisper. Fuck.

“Send the address. We’re heading there now. Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch offhandedly pointed to JJ and spoke quickly. “Call for an ambulance, get them to come to the same address when you get it.”

“Of course.”

Without another moment, he rushed out and was already climbing back into the SUV he’d arrived in earlier to get going. The team, police and SWAT followed suit and moments later they were off, sirens blaring and flashes of blue and red painting the world around them in an alarming light show. Who knew if you were even alive now or not.

“Aaron, you need to calm yourself.” Dave said from the passenger seat. Hotch scoffed.

“I’m doing fi-”

“-You can lie to yourself about that all you want, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Aaron sighed, keeping his eyes on the road as they raced through the, thankfully, empty streets and began to make it to the outskirts of town.

“I feel as though I pushed her to feel responsible for what happened. I…” He swallowed thickly. “I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming towards her.”

“I know, we’ve all seen it. But we also know why you keep her at arm’s length.”

The younger of the two older men scoffed.

“Dave-”

“-Save your breath on denying it. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah… We- we should stay focused on finding her. Hopefully still alive.” Hotch mumbled. This time, Dave was the one to scoff.

“Of course she will be alive. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

“I know. But you saw what this man did to the others.”

Dave said nothing more, turning his attention to the road ahead. It was quiet for a few minutes, that is until a building came into view. Hotch glanced at the man beside him.

“Tell everyone to turn off their lights and sirens. We don’t want to alert James to our presence.” He said.

The world fell silent and dark not too long after, and the foreboding silhouette of the slaughterhouse loomed larger and larger ahead of them, the pale moon falling behind the decaying structure. They came to a stop outside, quietly climbing out of their vehicles several yards away to lessen the chance of being heard from within the building. Ahead of them all was the van from the handiwork business with the same licence plate Garcia provided. It was quickly determined it was empty when two of the SWAT agents broke the locks of the back doors to the vehicle, finding nothing and thus the operation to head inside the facility began.

Then the most horrific shriek they’d all ever heard echoed out into the night from within the large building and it was as though time stopped altogether, along with Hotch’s heart.

That was you screaming.

“We need to go in now.” Hotch gritted, Everyone nodded, faces a mix of horrified and stony.

With their guns drawn, everyone followed their set out positions, stepping lightly as they entered from different areas of the building. Hotch rounded a corner, Morgan and the police chief tailing him along with some of the other officers. They paused, then rushed into the main room where the two figures were.

“FBI! James Humphrey, put your hands on your head where we can see them!” Hotch yelled, then the scene before him began to sink in. Your ashen face with tears streaking your cheeks, the position you were held in. Then the blood- so, so much blood. James twisted the blade that was sunk into your thigh and made you cry out again. He was grinning.

“Aww damn, you got me,” He said slowly, then turned his attention to the dark haired man without letting go of the knife. “But you have to admit, she looks so nice, all defenceless and covered in blood, don’t you think?”

Hotch stared him down, gun aimed at the blonde’s head with an unwavering stare.

“Shut up and put your hands on your head.”

James raised a brow, as though he had realised something.

“Oh! You’re the one, aren’t you?”

What? Hotch’s brow twitched. But before he could speak you strained at the buckles around your wrists.

“Shut the fuck uP!”

Your words, while full of venom and urgency, were also slurred. You were losing too much blood. James chuckled.

“Let’s open you wide for him, shall we? A nice little surprise for your loved one.”

Tightening his grip on the blade, he yanked it to the side and sliced your thigh open wider than before and caused you to scream in agony.

Hotch didn’t hesitate pulling the trigger. There was a loud bang, then the monster fell to the ground, a perfect hole between his cold eyes finishing him.

He shoved his gun into its holster with shaky hands, barely registering that the others were also in the room with him. He just needed to reach you. His stomach felt cold when he came to stand before you, your wrists and ankles red rimmed from pulling at the straps, but most of all your thigh was pulsing out blood. Crimson everywhere. Your eyes settled on him and they widened as you began to struggle.

“N-no! Don’t look at me!”

He moved fast, unfastening the buckles around your ankles and pressing his knee to your groin, applying as much as his body weight as he could to you. He hated the scream that tore through you.

“(L/n)! Please, keep your eyes on me. Stay with me. I’m going to remove my belt and try to use it to tie a tourniquet, okay?” he said as calmly as he could, maintaining the pressure on your pelvic bone. You screeched, trying to flail away from him. He could feel the bone beneath his knee creaking disturbingly. “(Y/n)!”

This made you pause, and you stared at him.

“S-sir- it h-hurts!”

God, his heart felt like it was splintering.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I need to try and keep the bleeding under control though, okay? Just until the EMTs come in. Will you let me?” He spoke softly to you, then glanced at Morgan, who had checked if the killer was confirmed to be dead. “Morgan, my keys are in my pocket. Grab my jacket from the car.”

“On it.” He said and rushed over to stuff his hand into Hotch’s pocket, fishing for the keys and sprinting out of the room. Keeping his eyes on you, Hotch noticed your own lazily trailing over his face as though you weren’t so aware he was truly in front of you right now.

“I… I always wanted you to like me, sir.”

No. He unbuckled his belt and, while wincing guiltily, he lifted your leg and wrapped the belt around your large thigh, causing you to let out another sound he would not soon forget.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But please save your energy, try not to talk.” He said, voice thick with tears. He turned his head left and right, eyes wide. “Where the hell are the EMTs?! Get them in here now!”

Absently, he was aware some of the others had rushed over to remove the buckles around your wrists, revealing how sore they were. You began to sob, chest heaving as you gazed up at him.

“Sir… I..”

“Shhh, please. (Y/n), I need you to focus on conserving your energy.” He said softly, but you shook your head, scrunching your eyes closed tightly.

“No! I need to- I need to tell you something, Aaron.” You shifted on the table, missing the startled expression on Hotch’s face at the sound of his name. You had never called him that before.

From the other end of the table Hotch could feel the eyes of his agents on him, but he couldn't stop looking at you, fixated on the pain in your eyes. As he opened his mouth to speak, Morgan sprinted back into the room with Hotch’s jacket in his grasp and held it out.

“Hotch, here-” He said quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you. “Think the medics are near. Saw flashing lights coming down the road we took.”

Hotch took hold of his jacket and exhaled.

“Sweetheart, I-I’m sorry but this is gonna hurt.” He fumbled and pressed it into the wound site, causing your back to arch with a shriek. He felt as though he would vomit, knowing that despite him doing this to stop you from bleeding out he was causing you unimaginable pain. A stray tear dripped onto his tie and it was then he realised he was crying.

In his hands, he could already feel your blood soaking right through the stiff fibres of the jacket, so he pressed down even more firmly, trying not to falter when you choked out.

“A-Aaron…” You mumbled, voice weaker than before. He froze. Your eyelids drooped slightly as your lower lip wobbled. “I- you need to know something…”

“(Y/n), please-”

“I don't have much time! I'm so, so cold. Can't feel my legs,” You cut him off desperately. “Just- you need to know I-I’ve always liked you, maybe more than I should. I just… always think about you, maybe we could have been friends in another time.”

It was as though his lungs constricted in his chest and he heaved, gasping out a noise between a cry and whimper. Fuck, fuck! It should never have turned out this way. He wanted to reach out for you, to hold you, wipe those tears and reassure you it was okay and he liked you too. But then your eyelids drooped further, indicating you were about to pass out.

“(Y/n)? Hey, stay with us now!” Prentiss called out to you, shaking your arm slightly. But you didn't respond, staring straight forward. A deep coldness spread through Hotch’s core. No… no, no, no.

“Chest compressions. Derek- start chest compressions!” He shouted, watching the dark skinned man approach quickly to begin pumping his hands roughly but to a beat against your chest. Then he looked at JJ. “Find out where they are-where are the paramedics?!”

The blonde woman appeared startled, more so from the scene unfolding before her. But she nodded and sprinted away. He didn't even know where Dave and Reid were at this point, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to care.

“(Y/n) sweetheart, I need you to wake up. Please open your eyes!”

“Come on, Sugar, can't leave us hanging like this!” Morgan chanted between each chest compression.

Nothing. Hotch could feel his knee locking from the position he held it in, but he did not move. He would not forgive himself for this, the least he could do was injure his knee to keep you alive. You still didn't reawake, body jolting with every deep press of Morgan's hands on your chest.

Finally, he heard the running footsteps and the sound of something metallic being dragged into the building.

“Medics here! Please, allow us access to the patient!” An unfamiliar commanding voice shouted. A flurry of people crossed the space towards the table and immediately took over from Morgan efforts, letting the man step back and take a deep breath. Another had an oxygen mask and bag and placed it over your face, asking for your name.

“Sir, please let me get to her.” Another medic said beside him, but he didn't move. He was frozen.

“Come on, man. You gotta let them help her.” Morgan sounded far off, Hotch couldn't focus on him.

“Sir. I need you to move.” The paramedic was more firm now, then he felt strong arms wrap around his upper body and pulling him back.

“No! She'll bleed out!” Hotch struggled against Morgan's grip to no avail when the both of them stumbled backwards to the far side of the room, letting the medics reach you.

“Stop! You need to calm yourself down, man! They've gotta get her stable enough to take her to the ambulance.” Morgan said, and only then did the frazzled unit chief stop struggling against him. He choked out a sob as they worked around you, manoeuvring you carefully out of the stirrups and onto the gurney. No noise came from you, his stomach tightened. And suddenly, they were rolling the gurney out of the room.

“I'm going with her.”

Hotch began to follow behind the group of paramedics, ignoring the horrified looks around him. Before he could even speak one of them spotted him and met him half way across the yard, eyeing his bloodied appearance.

“Sir…”

“Please. Let me come with her.” He pleaded softly, hands curled up tightly into fists.

“Sir, I don't know if that's a good idea. Our patient keeps going into cardiac arrest, this can be distressing-”

“-And she is my agent. You must let me see her to the hospital.”

Hotch stared at the paramedic firmly, although their face was becoming blurry.

From within the ambulance came the sound of frantic beeps and they gave Hotch one last look, murmured a quick apology and turned away to run over, clambering inside.

All he could do was watch them continue chest compressions on you, then the doors closed and the vehicle pulled away, leaving him standing there. Everything felt distant now, the calls of his name, the sound of several pairs of footsteps, it was murky.

Hotch felt himself heave, double over and with a groan; he vomited onto the dirt yard.

Oh nooooooooo what a mess :3 thank you for reading this far!! And also I'm sorry LMFAO

Taglist:

@southernraven @deludedfruitcake @tgskitten @zaddyhotch @cm-slvts-31 @dins-cyarika @midnghtprentiss @buckxysdoll @jazzimac1967 @louderfortheback @balariie @yeahmaybenoo @viawritesstuff @bau-muffin @littlegirl-bd

#tw emetophobia #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #aaron hotchner x plus-size!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #a writes #a's writing

[randomfoggytiger]

How Scully Taught Mulder to Hug

I've noted once before what a profound effect Scully has on Mulder's emotional journey with healing and grief (see here how One Breath transforms him and his emotional outlet); but there is a key part of that healing process that is just as important.

Fox Mulder is known for his softer side: a masculine man comfortable with feminine displays of affection and empathy. However, even though it was always his nature-- reaching out to Scully often, pulling at her necklace, smoothing her hair, engaging her eye contact-- Mulder never physically comforted someone in their distress or immense grief before Scully.

I broke down his dynamics with his mother (see here) but, in short, he was her caretaker since Samantha's disappearance: tucking her in, speaking calmly and gently to soothe her nerves, and other minute mannerisms that bled into his other human interactions. But there was always an affectionate distance.

It wasn't until Scully that he learned how to sweep a vulnerable, distressed, or grieving person into a comforting hug.

TLDR

Scully is used to exchanging physical affection with her family and friends, and she will usually reach out to Mulder first to change an aspect of their relationship: a hug, a hand grip, letting Mulder sweat over root bear, pining in Season 2, hinting at genes in Season 4, and bringing a cheese plate for recovery fun fun times in Season 5. (It's why she was so shocked in The Little Green Men, Small Potatoes, The Unnatural, and Millennium: she doesn't expect Mulder to make any moves.)

Mulder is, despite being a physically affectionate person, stunned by her abrupt hug in the Pilot, having maintained an emotional distance from others for a long, long time (even from his mother and father-- despite being his mother's emotional and even physical caretaker, the two Mulders were not volubly affectionate.)

The MOST PIVOTAL hug is the follow-up in Irresistible-- Mulder shadows Scully the whole case, but it's she who finally cracks and burrows into his coat, needing comfort. The tenderness they've both cultivated in the aftermath of Duane Barry is kicked up a notch; and there is no going back for Mulder. From now on, he will repeatedly body-shield Scully: from literal danger (in the very next episode Die Hand Die Verletzt) and from very intense fear or grief.

In fact, that part of Mulder has been blown so wide open that he swoops in to greet his father with a hug in Colony, kicking himself when he remembers that the Mulders don't hug.

The first time Mulder reaches out to hug Scully is in Paper Clip while she struggles after her sister's death. It's a full-on, no-holds-barred hug that envelops and fully comforts. This is when The Mulder Hug TM is born; and Mulder will use this for the rest of his life, finally able to comfort and cheer and grieve openly.

Because Scully, his human credential, taught him how.

Housekeeping now firmly aside:

Pictures and In-Depth Analysis Below

The First Hug

In the Pilot, Scully is terrified of malicious looking bumps on her back, knocking on Mulder's door and begging him to figure out if they are nefarious or not; and when he good-naturedly assures her they're just mosquito bites, she whirls around and clings to him.

It's demonstrated multiple times in the series to be second nature to Scully to hug her loved ones (returning her father's bear hug in Beyond the Sea, letting Maggie cling to her in Memento Mori, greeting Bill Scully in Gethsemane, etc.); but the opposite is shown for her new partner.

Mulder is shocked by her hug, frozen in his former gregarious reassurance as he processes what just happened.

Finally, Mulder's face shifts to bewilderment, snapping back his head in confusion-- he hasn't had a real hug in how long... why now?

More warmth seeps in, wonder and concern rising to the top of his conflicted emotions as he asks "You okay?" tenderly, beeping his nose into her hair.

He tries to reassure his new barnacle-to-a-hull clingy partner, awkwardly (and this makes me laugh) patting her on the shoulder as if she were a baby.

When Scully pulls back to collect herself, Mulder dazedly focuses on her, tracking her eyes and blandly noting "You're shaking."

Scully helps herself to his seat with Mulder unfazed and telling her to take her time, poking out an arm so she doesn't ram into the chair. He then sits across from her, studying this new (ab)normal specimen, trying to puzzle her out.

This leads Mulder to share his vulnerability over Samantha's abduction, a quid pro quo if you will. It's not private information since he's already categorized her as an X-File; but the revelation is not his trauma : it's his neck-on-the-chopping-block move he makes, revealing how much he knows about the upper office shenanigans and what they've been doing to stop him ("You're part of that agenda. You know that.") Scully honors this , asking for his trust.

(An aside: this is referenced later in Anasazi when Mulder screams over the phone about her betrayal: "Look, you have my files and my gun. Don't ask me for my trust.")

The Second Hug

There isn't another hug until Irresistible. Although Mulder is far from distant, he only ever goes so far with his physical affection (a hand at his partner's back while walking, sitting as close as humanly possible, dragging her away from dangerous scenarios, etc.), leaving it up to Scully to cross the lines between them (tending to him and camping out in his hotel room in Fire, "I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you" in Tooms, petting his hair in Little Green Men, etc.) Mulder yearns to be closer, but he is the one drawing the lines, another self-protective measure (like talking in riddles, keeping few friends, sleeping on his couch, and running so he never has to stop.)

But their S2 separation and Scully's abduction followed so closely by her near death in Firewalker leaves a space for Scully's increasing vulnerability. Her anxiety and stress continue to heighten as Pfaster's case hits closer and closer home; and, by the end of that disaster, she is a wreck. When Mulder and the police rescue her from her newest kidnapping, Scully vainly tries to hold onto her control until the dam bursts, Mulder's empathetic chin-touch undoing her.

She slowly steps closer, seeking a hiding spot to fall apart in; and Mulder just as slowly scoops her up, facing the middle distance briefly to assess what this moment means for Scully (who strove to be unbreakable after her abduction) before turning his focus back to his partner.

When a cry escapes Scully, Mulder instinctively pets and cradles her head for the first time (to my knowledge), transforming from an empathetic but awkward partner to a fully-fledged comforter.

It's here when he links his ability to convey love through touch with his soothing, calming presence: by holding another person, he can wordlessly offer both. This changes everything for Mulder-- he now engulfs Scully, TLG, his family, even other victims in hugs, unlocking that side of himself that he'd never tapped into before.

Scully worms in closer, too far gone to care about preserving whatever scrap of dignity she has left; and Mulder, who gets it now, swarms her in a tighter hug-- his hand stretched to its fullest and his arms wound in a stronger grip.

Mulder then steps it up a notch: he focuses entirely on her (briefly closing his eyes), trying to empathetically collect all of Scully's pain and fear like a dreamcatcher and shield her from all the negative emotions and traumas and nightmares that will plague her. Despite the torment on his face, Mulder's assurance is measured and strong: "It's alright." Simple, but powerfully reassuring.

The very next episode, Mulder throws himself over Scully to protect her from being shot first in the Die Hand Die Verleztz shower, a first for him and one he doesn't flinch at. Of course, he has always been protective; but there is no uncertainty that sometimes lurked when he'd previously hovered around her like a nervous fly.

And this new unlocking of himself led to his aborted hug in--

Colony

When Mulder arrives at his father's, he runs up to the house and almost misses Bill Mulder in the shadows. He steps over, opening his arms for a hug... and is promptly greeted by Bill Mulder's hand.

I already have a series detailing Mulder's complicated relationships with his family (The Mulder Family In-Depth Series is found on this master list); the importance here is that Mulder is so caught up in his new mindset that he forgot the barriers that existed between himself and his father.

Two theories that don't mean anything really:

#1. Mulder had broken down a huge psychological barrier; and he naturally included his father in this change... which was promptly rejected. His face registers an "ah, of course" expression instead of shock or grief, meaning this is an established habit of his father's. Just because he's changed, Bill Mulder has not (yet. See post here.)

#2. Mulder's father has hugged Mulder before, since it's a go-to greeting from his son in this time of crisis. He was a doting father at one point, so maybe he reverts back to his warmer behavior in exteme times of celebration or trouble? Who knows.

Whatever the case may be, this is the first hug Mulder has ever initiated for comfort (not counting bro-hugs or hello-hugs)... and it was rejected. Mulder being Mulder, though, never gives up.

Paper Clip

Paper Clip is the turn of the tide.

Mulder has learned how to marry his unending empathy and true compassion with his natural way of bonding, physical touch. This is when he gives it all back to Scully, the woman who showed him the way. In a demonstration of "I owe you everything, Scully. And you owe me nothing", Mulder stoops down to listen to Scully's heartrending pain about Melissa Scully's murder, giving her as much courage and hope as he can. When Scully cracks, he leans away briefly to better balance himself-- which makes his partner grab for his hands in a panic (2nd pic)-- before scooping her up into a tight hug, allowing his human credential to cry onto his shoulder.

Scully sweeps her arm around Mulder as well (you can see her hand on Mulder's left shoulder.)

The last piece of Mulder's puzzle comes in Herrenvolk:

Herrenvolk

I've discussed this episode in depth here, but it's important to comb back through with this context in mind.

Mulder's mother is on her deathbed, and he has failed to bring back the one person who could heal her. In tatters, he stumbles through the hospital in shock, relying on Scully to get him to Tena (or Teena) Mulder's room. At her bedside, Mulder crashes. For the first time, Mulder leans into Scully, indirectly asking her for a hug. Scully reads his body language and makes the first decisive move, showing Mulder that his emotions won't be rejected. He then falls apart, sobbing into her shoulder.

The last barrier for Mulder's emotional distance has melted away; and Scully is there to give back the comfort he always gave her.

A Summary and Mini-Analysis on Future Hugs

Finally, this aspect of Mulder's emotional journey has come to a healthy completion: from now on, he and Scully give and receive hugs freely, leaning in for affection and anticipating each others' needs and varying moods.

Season 5, interestingly, is filled mostly with hugs-but-not-hugs moments-- i.e., Scully didn't hug Mulder in the woods, they cuddled for warmth; and Mulder didn't hug Scully in All Souls, they whispered with arms in the police station.

But Scully does hug Mulder after the files burn down, since he is too emotionally hewn to reciprocate. FTF is an addendum to that moment, with Mulder proving to Scully that she does, indeed, mean more to him than his life's work (she is his life.)

Sseason 6 is sparing on hugs, though filled to the brim with romantic overtones (subtle they are not); instead, it gives Mulder two kisses that are not from Scully: Triangle's spy Scully and One Son's manipulative Diana Fowley. It's not until Arcadia that the two agents full-on hug-- multiple ones at that-- which is befitting for a season that practically shoves them together while baiting the audience.

(Note: Sometime around Seasons 6-7 there are the events of Per Manum, featuring very huggy Mulder and Scully. I set this sometime before Two Fathers/One Son; but do as you wish.)

The hugs really pick up significant meaning after the episode tag-team of Milagro and The Unnatural. There is no going back now; but whatever deal they struck in those episodes (whether RST or a new understanding between them) is solidified after Mulder's spiritual experience in Amor Fati.

From then on, hugs become casual side pieces to the main affection: Millennium kisses, unabashed flirting, comfort after maternal suicides, familiar and familial habits and routines, and farewells in hallways and hellos from old friends.

The last hug (as of S8 where my X-Files journey stops) is given by Frohike embracing Mulder on his return.

Mulder arrives at Scully's apartment, glad to see his old friend; but he immediately sticks his arm out to shake hands, an unfortunate shadow of his own traumatized father Bill Mulder. Frohike, fortunately, is having NONE of it, sweeping his friend into a tight, firm hug. Mulder is delighted and touched, zinging out his first quip devoid of bitterness.

Grateful and overwhelmed, Mulder gives his friend a back pat (and many happy Mulder noises) as well, harkening back to his first awkward hug with Scully.

A fitting conclusion to Mulder's hug arc.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #meta #How Scully Taught Mulder to Hug #xf meta #x-files #xfiles #the x files #Mulder #Scully #analysis #mine #Pilot #Irresistible #Colony #Paper Clip #Herrenvolk #S1 #S2 #S3 #S4 #S6 #Frohike #Milagro #The Unnatural #S7 #Millennium #Three Words #S8

[h4rringt0nswife]

What happens in the dark..

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　

Pairing: Eddie Munson x afab reader

Summary: What happens when Eddie the freak Munson becomes friends with the ditsy innocent girl? What happens when he catches this so called saint of a woman, on her bed, with his name rolling sinfully off her tongue?

Warnings: perv!Eddie Munson, fem!reader, Established Friendship, Innocent!reader, secret feelings, Swearing, Voyeurism, brief mentions of weed, Bimbo reader, reader is 18, probably word errors.

Word Count: 1.2k words

A/N: This will be very brief. But anyways enjoy the inside of my mind :D

Maybe it was the way you smiled at him. Bright eyed and sparkly lips- that made him love you. The way you'd stutter every few words when you'd speak too quickly. Or was it was the way your little touches would set his heart aflame?

Maybe it was the way your hips would sway when you walked, your small skirt riding up to expose more of your thigh with each step. The way you would press up against him innocently while intertwined together in your silk white sheets that made him want you more than just friends.

Eddie was prepared to give you any and everything. You were his perfect girl. Beautiful, sweet, and innocent. You were his own personal flower, he's willing to crush you into sheets of a book and take you everywhere with him. But he was afraid you'd crumble in the pages.

And that's what made it all so exciting for him, tip-toeing around you, knowing that in a second he could ruin you. It made his jeans tighten just thinking about it.

But nothing. And I mean nothing could have prepared him to see you like this. Sprawled out over your bed. Shallow breaths, and small sighs. Your sheer bed curtain, that he'd always loved, draped over your tousled sheets making the scene before him all too pure.

Was this a dream?

-

That night started off normally.

He had been thinking about you the whole day at school, considering that you hadn't shown up. That morning in Ms. Odonald's class he glanced over at your regular seat to see that you were missing. That was out of the norm for you; your perfect attendance being there to back him.

She must be sick or something.

He'd convinced himself to shake the unnerving feeling he'd had. He put it in his mind that he'd pop by your house to check in on you, and bring some weed to make you feel better. Since that's what always made him feel better.

Driving down your street in his rattling van he'd noticed that your parents' car wasn't in its usual parking spot. He found that odd, due to the fact that your parents are real home-bodies. But he decided to think nothing of it.

Pulling the keys out of the ignition he made his way over to your window with a single pink camellia flower that he'd picked up prior to his ride there, with an ounce of weed stuffed in his back pocket along with his black bandanna.

He made his way over to your window to find that it was locked. Now this was very unusual for you to do. You had always kept the window unlocked for him because of his frequent unannounced visits. And not only was your window locked, you had also closed your curtains. Nothing was visible inside the room except the orangey glow from your small lamp on your nightstand, he knew your bedroom setup by heart.

No big deal.

He'd just go through the front door. The spare key had always been placed above your door-frame and to his avail, he'd been correct. He pushed the door open and looked around for any trace of your parents. Nothing, except for the open wine bottle on the island in the kitchen. All lights were off except for the dim glow emitting from a crack in your bedroom door.

He slowly crept to your room and decided to be quiet just in case you were sleeping and if you were he didn't want to disturb you. Just as he was two centimeters away from your door he heard hushed sounds. Almost inaudible. And heavy labored breathing.

He stopped in his tracks.

Peering through the small crack, he found you on your bed. Your body was faced away from his vision. But the full sized mirror propped up against your closet door showed everything.

Your fingers plunged in and out of your dripping womb while the other hand worked at your swollen clit. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air making your breasts jiggle from this movement.

This was all so obscene. You were exploring obscure places of your body and he was there...watching. He willed himself to look away, look at anything else. But his eyes stayed fixated on your hands. The way they moved simultaneously on your body.

This was disgusting for him to be there. But his heart and dick ached while he took in your sight for his sore eyes. He was happy it was him to be there watching and not some random wandering weirdo.

He screwed his eyes shut to force himself to look away. His mind screamed at him to leave but his legs didn't move. He felt like a dirty creep.

"Eddie..."

His eyes jolted open at the sound of his name.

His cock swelled as he suppressed a moan with his hand. His knees were jello. Barely able to stand on his own, he lowered his other hand to his crotch. Eddie's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he palmed himself.

Eddie imagined it was you, your small hand palming his clothed manhood. Your pink nails grazing it every so often.

“Oh, Eddie…feel ‘s good.”

Your inconsistent breathy moans sent the boy into frenzy. His jaw went slack as he prayed to god you wouldn’t look into the mirror in front of you. He could be caught any second, and yet he stayed. Like a pervert.

He'd gotten too sucked into the moment, gotten too comfortable. He had stepped back onto one of the creaky wooden boards. He quickly hurried towards the entrance door. Cock throbbing with each step.

"Hello?"

Your faint voice was shaky, and he almost felt bad. But at that moment he just had to get out. Anything to avoid being caught.

As he scurried to his car he had prayed to a god he didn't even think existed. He just prayed he had not been caught, and that nothing would change after this unplanned rendezvous.

-

You hurriedly pulled on your small pink robe and peeked out of your cracked door. Your heart thudded against your chest.

Had you been caught? Was someone in the house?

You checked all the locks before you started just in case your parents decided to cancel their little trip, as they usually did. You tip toed around your living room and kitchen to find nothing.

"Binx?" You called out for your small kitten but there she was. Asleep in her small princess bed. You sighed to yourself and began making your way back to your bedroom.

Your step came to a halt. Beside your bedroom door was a black cloth-like material. You squinted your eyes and the familiar fabric. You'd seen this before, obviously it didn't belong to you because it wasn't in your...taste. But you knew this cloth.

Picking the black bandanna up, you knew who this belonged to. You smelled his scent on it. Your heart raced as you realized,

Eddie had been here.

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