#i get he was very very scared. good character no worries

[rainydayathogwarts]

Curtain call - Spencer Reid

Summary: You're an actress. Opening night of the show, a cast member is killed. FBI finds out you were the real target... Warnings: mentions of blood, a kiss 2k wc

Adrenaline rushes through you as you run through the wings, catching your breath as you made your way across the backstage. You had just about a minute until you had to be on stage once more, the big number now coming to its end. Rushing into the costume room, you barely acknowledge the one thing obviously wrong with the messy space until you reach for your next costume on the rack, moving all other clothes aside to find it. There’s something inappropriate about your outfit. One, there isn’t supposed to be any blood on it yet there it is, a bloody handprint, running all the way to the bottom of your dress. That’s when your eyes trail down to the bottom of the clothing rack, where you get a clear look of the body lying underneath the row of clothes. Blood was soaking through her entire costume and her skin was turning blue. It’s only when someone runs into the changing room at risk of missing your cue that you hear a gut-wrenching scream. Later, you’d be told that it had come from you. 

Being called into the theatre the next day for “mandatory debriefing” was not what you had expected after such a traumatic experience, but you came in nonetheless, afraid of losing the job after the scene you had caused the night before. After screaming bloody-murder, half the cast ran into the changing rooms to find you hysterically crying over your cast mate’s body, holding her cold hand. The audience had been scared half to death, and after the authorities made it onto the scene, everyone was evacuated out of the theatre. By finding her body, you had cost everyone a night of the show. 

But once you got to the theatre, angry yellow tape cutting off access to the public, you were approached by a handsome man with a serious face and confident posture, offering you his hand even as he walked towards you. “Miss L/N? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI, and this is Dr. Reid. We just have a few questions we would like you to answer for us.” Agent Morgan had been a very kind man, who told you every formality that was written in the book, however the man he had introduced to you as Dr. Reid caught your attention in a way you weren’t aware would be good or bad. Dr. Reid stayed silent as Agent Morgan questioned you, deeply staring at you as you answered all that was thrown at you, shooting you quizzical looks every now and then and glancing down at your fidgety hands. 

“Thank you so much for all this Miss L/N, that’s all our questions.” As Agent Morgan began to stand, Dr. Reid looked up at you, “Actually, I do have a few more if you don’t mind.” Agent Morgan shot his partner a confused look, slowly backing down into his seat once more. “Do you know why Evelyn was in the costume room when she was? With my limited understanding of the play, I was under the impression that her character didn’t have any costume changes up to the point you had gotten to before she was killed.” And then those that followed:

“Was anyone other than you supposed to be in the changing rooms at that moment?”

“Is there anyone in the cast who has taken a specific liking or dislike towards you?” 

“Can you remember any specific encounters with anyone as you were going in or out of the theatre?”

“Have you received any eye catching letters from fans recently?” 

Finally, Dr. Reid’s prying had gotten you somewhere, leaving you more terrified than ever, with Agent Morgan reassuring you “It’s just a theory that Dr. Reid has, so we’re only taking precaution. There’s nothing to worry about just yet.” The two agents drove you back to your place where you led them to the curse fan-letter drawer in your study. "I don't usually read them because there are so many." You admitted, crossing your arms tightly over your torso, observing as the doctor starting frantically pulling letters out of the tidied drawer, eyes briefly scanning the name on the front of each envelope. He threw several to the side, dropping the rest onto the floor after reading the name until nearly ten minutes later, all the letters laid on the floor.

Dr. Reid scrambled to gather the letters he had tossed to the side, standing up hurriedly. You stared at the pile in his hands, glancing back up at the two men for an explanation. "These are all sent from the same person. I'd like to read them and see if analyse the language used. I think one of us should stay here with you for the mean time." You nodded at Dr. Reid's words, briefly looking over to his partner for confirmation. "I think Reid should stay here as he looks over the letters." He moved his attention from you to Dr. Reid "You can ask her any questions you might have and it'll be good protection." The partners nodded to each other and immediately, Agent Morgan exited the room.

Dr. Reid's hand came up before hesitantly placing it on your shoulder. "Do you mind if I get settled here? Ask some questions?" You shook your head silently before asking "Um, since you'll be here awhile, can I get you something? Coffee?" Dr. Reid nodded, muttering a quiet "That would be lovely." You don't know what it was: maybe the fact that he was here to protect to or trying to save your life, but felt your heart beat in your chest aggressively, as though trying to break through your skin. You brought him coffee, sugar and packets of cream on the side just in case and watched in awe as he emptied out the small cup of sugar. Sweet, just like him.

"Dr. Reid-" "Spencer. Please." You nodded, scooting your chair closer to him as he took a sip of coffee. "Did I make a mistake by not reading these?" The envelopes made loud unfolding noises every time he pulled a letter out of a different one, and he shook his head. "No. I know I wouldn't open so many of these and I have an IQ of 187." You grinned, your chest bubbling with a giggle. Spencer perked up at the sound of your laughter, smiling gently at you. He wasn't trying to joke around, but he was happy to lift up your mood. He studied all the letters laid out in front of him, and immediately noticed a pattern.

'02.02.18, I saw you in Oliver! today, you make an amazing Nancy.'

'14.02.18, I watched you in Oliver! again. You somehow get better the more I see you on stage.'

'07.03.18 I loved you today in the show. I watched the evening show. Did you see me too?'

'17.03.18 I saw your show again. I can be your Bill Sykes if you'd let me."

'11.04.18 I've been waiting anxiously to see you again since Oliver stopped touring. You make a wonderful Veronica.'

'15.04.18 We can be Seventeen together! Let me be your JD.'

"This isn't good." Without any further explanation, he pulled his phone out, dialling a number. "He's using obsessive language and saw her in Oliver! and Heathers, both of which have abusive partners who either kill or try to kill who Y/N's playing. You need to go visit his address right now." Coincidentally, just as he hangs up the phone, your doorbell rings. Your blood runs cold and you stand up instantly, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking you from going anywhere. "Stay behind me, but stay close." He mutters, pulling his gun from his hostler. Spencer watches you closely, and the profiler in him notices how your breath begins to speed up and your eyes glaze with tears.

One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and he whispers "Breathe. I'm right here so no one's going to hurt you, okay?" You nod, staying as close as you can to him without touching him until you get to the front door. He peeks through the peephole and his shoulders drop as an "Oh." Escapes him. He opens and closes the door faster than you can register, now holding another letter in his hand, identical to all the ones scattered on your desk.

Six words are written on the letter when Spencer opens him, and his face pales. It was meant to be you. Spencer grabs your hand, dragging you back into your study - the one room in your house with no windows. He locks the door, pressing numbers on his phone again before it's against his ear. "It's definitely him, he just sent another letter. We're in her study but he might be around the premises or returning to his house. I don't plan on getting her out of the study until you get him." The second the words leave his mouth you're processing them, and tears are welling in your eyes once more.

The sound of sniffling gets his attention back to you and his hands are gently coming up to your shoulders, leading you to sit down in a chair. "I'm scared." You whisper helplessly, looking up at the doctor. He crouches down to your level, and hand on your knee. "Hey, what did I say before?" He looks at you intently waiting for an answer. "No one's gonna hurt me." Spencer nods, a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes, exactly. No one's going to hurt you. I have an excellent team looking for that son of a bitch as we speak and I am right here with you."

You nod, not entirely convinced, which he can apparently tell, so he continues with "Come on, look at these muscles. You think anyone will get to you when I have these babies?" His tongue pokes out slightly as he flexes his arms, which are actually more toned than you realise. You laugh again and feel yourself launching your body at him before you can stop yourself, pulling him into a tight hug. He hesitates, but eventually, his arms are pulling you even closer to him, one hand rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. You break the hug, but before you can help yourself, you realise you're leaning into him, pressing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. To your surprise he immediately returns the kiss, his hands cupping your face as he deepens the kiss.

He's panting when he pulls away from you, whispering "This is unprofessional. I'm sorry, I like you, I do, but I shouldn't." Cocking your head to the side, you can't help but smile slightly. "It's only unprofessional for one of us so technically it's not unprofessional at all." His face twists in confusion as he tries processing your words. "That's not how it wo-mmph." the rest of his words are muffled by the second kiss you give him, which you feel him melting into as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. "After- after the case. After the case, I'll take you on a date." His face falls at his own words, his face reddening in embarrassment. "That is- I mean that's only if you want. I wouldn't take you on a date if you didn't want to, that's totally fine."

The door to the study slams open just as he finishes rambling and you scream in fear, tightly gripping Spencer's hand and turning around expecting to find a middle aged balding creep, only to find a much sexier bald man, putting his gun back in his hostler. "Did you not hear us screaming for you? We thought he might have gotten to you before we found him. Ms. L/N, you're safe, we found him." Agent Morgan's gaze slowly trails to where your hand tightly grips Spencer's, and when he sees the flush on Spencer's face he makes a "Huh" noise, before walking out of the room once more.

taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist

#spencer reid x you #rainydayathogwarts #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminalminds #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #derek morgan

[fanfictionalraven]

Dream Warriors Chapter 4

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 4

Summary: Sam and the reader discuss her dreams. Dean and the reader make some progress on the case and their relationship.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters

Word Count: 3,700

Warnings: Mentions of miscarriage, angst

Read Chapter 3 here.

You and Sam both continue to stare at your perfectly healed hands. All traces of the burns were now gone. You look up at Sam, tears stinging your eyes.

“You saw that, right?? I’m not going crazy. You saw that too,” you practically beg. He nods his head slowly, trying to process what he’d just witnessed.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head quickly, looking back at your hands.

“I wish I knew,” you mumble. You flex your hands slowly, wiggling your fingers as well. “I’ve been having these dreams. We thought it was just stress from the miscarriage and due date but now…”

“Dreams?” Sam asks, watching you closely. You look up at him and nod.

“It’s all so normal. No monsters. Our families are alive. Dean and I are very clearly in love but I married someone else who’s been cheating on me. You finished school and you’re getting married to Jessica,” you tell him. He frowns a little more and nods. “When I’m there, when I’m in the dreams, all of this is just a dream. A dream I hardly pay attention to. And it all feels real, holding my daughter feels real.”

“The burns?” He asks, cutting his eyes to your hands.

“I went to get a pie from the oven in a rush and forgot potholders,” you explain. He nods again then shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay, ugh…normally, I’d agree that it’s just your subconscious but…” He trails off and you nod. “What are you thinking? A spell? A djinn maybe?” He asks as he makes his way back to his laptop. You frown, pulling your knees into your chest.

“I don’t know what to think, Sam,” you tell him. He nods and starts to type on his computer. You sit in silence for a moment before looking around. “Where’s Dean?”

“Went to talk to the sheriff again,” he says, picking up John’s journal. You roll your eyes, throwing the blankets off of yourself.

“The sheriff isn’t going to talk to him. Why didn’t he wake me?” You ask as you move to your bag. You open it to find that Dean had taken your fed clothes last night and put them away neatly.

“He wanted to let you sleep as much as possible. You really scared him last night,” he says. You stop what you’re doing and look at him, confused. “When you heard that baby crying?”

“That was Ella,” you say. He raises an eyebrow in question and you sigh, looking back into your bag. “My daughter. I mean – the baby in my dreams.” Sam frowns as he watches you.

“Y/N, she isn’t real,” he reminds you. Rolling your eyes, you rise to your feet, clothes in hand.

“I told you, Sam. When I’m in the dreams, she’s the realest thing in the world. I’d give my life for her in a heartbeat,” you tell him. He nods slightly.

“Well try not to do that. Minor injuries may heal but dying?” He asks. You frown and nod, turning for the bathroom. “Want me to call Dean?”

“I’m not gonna tell him,” you inform Sam before closing the door behind you. You hear his chair scrape the floor before he approaches the door.

“What do you mean you aren’t telling him?” He asks. Sighing, you begin to change clothes.

“He’s already worried about me enough. I’m not giving him more reason to,” you call through the door to him.

“Y/N, something is hurting you in your dreams. That’s not something you should hide from him,” he says. You finish buttoning up your shirt and pull the door open again.

“Please. We can figure this out. Me and you,” you plead with him. He shakes his head slightly, conflicted.

“Nothing good ever comes from any of us keeping secrets, Y/N. You tell us that all the time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. You reach out and place your hands on his arms gently.

“Sam, I’m begging you. Just…one day. Let’s see what we can find in one day and if we don’t get anything or if things get worse tonight, then I’ll tell him,” you say. You bite your lip, waiting for his response. A car door closes from just outside the room and your pleading look turns to panic. “Sam, please.”

“Okay. Fine. One day,” he relents, turning back towards his table in the corner. You let out a sigh as the door to the room opens and Dean steps in. He’s got three cups of coffee and a white bag in his hands. He smiles widely when he sees you.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty finally woke up,” he teases, setting the breakfast he’d picked up down on the table. Sam takes one of the coffees and looks into the bag.

“Find anything out?” He asks, pulling a glazed donut from the bag. Dean picks up the other two cups and starts towards you.

“Well, they finally got an ID on one of the victims. Monica Lester. Married. From a town about an hour east of here,” he informs you both. He holds one of the cups out to you and you smile a little, taking it. You thank him and he winks at you before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sheriff Anderson has so graciously agreed to let me do the notification.”

“I’ll go with you,” you tell him before taking a drink from the coffee. He frowns at you and shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The man just lost the woman he loved and their unborn baby, Y/N,” he says. You sigh and nod, walking over to the table.

“And if anyone can understand at least part of that, it’s us,” you tell him as you reach into the bag yourself.

“Yea, just part of it, sure,” Dean mumbles, rising to his feet. You look at him quickly.

“What?” You ask. He smiles a little and shakes his head, walking over as well.

“Sammy, you good to stay back and keep digging?” He asks. Sam glances between the two of you before nodding.

“Yea, I’m fine,” he says. You give him a pointed look and he nods his head once. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

The two of you load into the front seat of the Impala and begin the hour-long drive to the first victim’s house. The ride is quiet, neither of you saying much at all. The invisible wall between you, that you had just started to believe could be torn down, now seemed to be reinforced and even bigger somehow. Dean parks the car on the curb in front of the house and the two of you look over at it.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks. You look over at him.

“Oh, now you’re talking to me again?” You ask. He stares at you for a moment, seemingly stunned. “Yes, I’m sure. Come on.” Pushing the door open a bit too violently, you climb out of the car and slam the door. Dean gets out quickly and rushes around.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but you don’t have to take it out on the car,” he says, fixing his tie. You stop in your tracks halfway across the yard. Dean gets only a few steps ahead of you before stopping and looking back.

“I just wish you’d talk to me,” you tell him. He shakes his head, taking a step towards you.

“Talk to you? Y/N, I try to talk to you all the time. You shut me down,” he huffs, exasperation clear on his face. You stare at him before walking to the front door quickly. “See??”

“We’re on a job, Dean,” you insist, reaching for the doorbell. He grabs your hand before you can make contact with the button, holding on to you tight.

“Y/N,” he pleads. You pull your hand away from his and press the button, hearing the bell ring inside. Footsteps quickly approach the door and Dean straightens up, reaching into his coat pocket as you do the same. The door opens and a man, around the same age as you and Dean, looks between you.

“Chris Lester?” Dean asks. The man nods, panic quickly spreading across his face. “We’re with the FBI. Agents Wayne and Prince. Could we speak with you?”

“Oh God,” he prays, voice trembling. You reach out and place a comforting hand on his arm.

“We should sit down,” you tell him. He nods his head slightly before turning to lead the way. You two follow and Dean pushes the door closed, glancing around the house. Mr. Lester leads the two of you into what seems to be the living room of the house. He sits on the edge of an arm chair as you and Dean take seats on the couch. The man leans forward and wrings his hands nervously.

“Is this about Monica?” He asks. You glance at Dean and he sighs, looking down at his own hands.

“Mr. Lester, we’re sorry to have to inform you but…your wife’s body was found three days ago about an hour from here,” Dean tells him.

Chris’ face falls slowly as each word is processed. You can see the moment his heart breaks in his eyes. He slumps forward with a wail and Dean quickly reaches out, catching him. You allow Mr. Lester a few minutes with his grief before Dean speaks to him again.

“I know it’s hard but we need you to answer a few questions so we can catch whoever did this.” Chris nods and slowly moves himself back into the chair. Dean sits back on the couch and straightens his jacket.

“Can we get you anything?” You ask. Chris shakes his head and wipes at his cheeks.

“No. You, ummm, you have questions?” He asks, voice still thick with tears. You nod and look at Dean.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?” He questions. Chris shakes his head, looking at his hands.

“No one. Monica is…” He stops and swallows back more tears. “She was an amazing woman. Everyone loved her. What happened?” You frown and shake your head.

“We’ll spare you the details for now but it doesn’t appear that she suffered,” you tell him. He nods slightly, running his hands over his face.

“Why would someone do this?” He asks, starting to lose it again. Dean reaches out, placing a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“It’s not going to make sense. No matter what we find out. Believe me. I know how you feel,” he tells him. Chris looks up at him and you bite your lip, looking down at your hands. “About three months ago, my girlfriend went to the store. Broad daylight in a crowded parking lot, a man stabbed her. She was six months pregnant. I lost them both that day.” You look at Dean quickly, fighting back tears. Chris shakes his head slightly. Before you can say anything, the sound of little feet running causes you all to sit up straight.

“Daddy.” A little girl, about four or five, runs into the room. “Who are you?” She asks, looking between you and Dean. Chris wipes at his eyes before forcing a smile.

“They’re friends,” he tells her. You put on your best smile before rising and walking over to her.

“My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?” You ask, kneeling down in front of her. She smiles back at you widely.

“Claire,” she says. Your smile widens a little.

“I have a friend named Claire,” you tell her. “Could you show me your room?” She nods quickly and takes your hand, pulling on it. She leads you up the stairs and into an adorably decorated princess bedroom where she immediately runs over to her dollhouse.

You take a seat at a little tea table in the corner where you spend the next several minutes being introduced to a number of dolls. This is immediately followed by a Barbie fashion show, Claire showing off all of her outfits. While you smile and laugh at the young girl, you can’t help but think back to what Dean had said. I lost them both that day. It felt like the final nail in the coffin that now held your relationship.

After a few minutes, a gentle knock at the door draws your attention. It opens and Chris steps into the room, a sad smile on his face. He tells you that Dean is outside and you say goodbye to Claire before going downstairs. Stepping out onto the porch, you find Dean in the yard on his phone, presumably with Sam.

“Yea, sounds good. We’ll see you later,” he says before hanging up. He drops his phone back into his coat pocket. “He’s got the names of the other two victims. They’re from the same town the opposite direction so he’s gonna go see their families.” You nod slightly and cross your arms, looking down. “Y/N…”

“I’m not dead, you know,” you cut him off. He scoffs a laugh causing you to look up.

“Yea, I know. Do you?” He asks. You stare at him, stunned. “I tried talking to you in the car and you were practically catatonic. You’re mourning. I get that. I am too. But I’m not the one doing the pushing.” You shake your head slightly.

“I’m not…”

“You are! You flinch away from my touch. You barely speak to me. I want to hold you again. I want to kiss you again. I want to make love to you again. And if you aren’t ready for that yet, that’s fine. I get that. But…tell me what I need to do to fix this,” he pleads. You shake your head again, fighting back a sob, and move to walk past him. He reaches out, catching your elbow. “Y/N, talk to me!” You spin to face him, jerking your arm from his grasp.

“Get mad!!” You snap at him, shoving at his chest. He stumbles a step back. “You never got mad!!”

“I’m mad as hell. If you’d seen what I did to that demon when I found him…” He trails off and you wipe at your eyes quickly.

“Not at the demon, Dean!! Get mad at me!! Blame me!! It was my fault!!” You scream at him through your sobs. He stares at you, wide eyed, and shakes his head. “It was. I was her mother and I should have protected her better.”

“Sweetheart, I could never blame you for that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” he says, reaching out for you.

“No, you’re not!! You weren’t even there!!” You insist as he gently takes your arms in his hands.

“Exactly. If I hadn’t been out on a hunt, if I had been home with you, I could have stopped him and we’d have our baby right now,” he says. You shake your head as you stare at him, bewildered.

“That’s ridiculous. We agreed you’d continue to hunt,” you tell him. He nods slightly, slowly pulling you closer to him.

“What’s even more ridiculous is you thinking I could or should blame you. From the day you found out you were pregnant, you were in full mom-mode. And it was the greatest thing I’d ever seen. You stopped hunting, stopped drinking, stopped eating junk. You were already an amazing mom and she wasn’t even here yet,” he says, his voice soft and calming. His arms hesitantly and slowly wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your firsts clench at the lapels of his jacket, as though you’re clinging on for dear life. “Let me fix it,” he pleads. A sob breaks through as you bury your face in his chest. Dean’s chin comes to rest on top of your head as he holds you close, rubbing circles into your back.

The two of you stand in that same spot, clinging on to one another, for what feels like forever. Your sobs eventually begin to subside and Dean’s arms loosen enough for you to look up at him. His lips brush your forehead and you feel yourself smile.

“Sam’s out for a little while. What do you say we go back to the room and talk some more?” He asks, looking down at you. You nod, wiping at your cheek.

“I like the sound of that,” you tell him. He smiles a little and leaves one arm around your waist as he pulls you to the waiting Impala. He opens the door for you and you slide in all the way to the middle.

After closing the door, Dean goes around and slips into the driver’s seat. He looks at you and smiles widely as you wrap your arms around his, laying your head on his shoulder. His hands come to rest on your knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth slowly as he sets out for the motel again.

The ride back is quiet again but a different, comfortable silence. You stay tucked into Dean’s side, holding on tight to his arm as he drives. Occasionally, he turns and places a kiss on top of your head. Each time, you respond with a kiss to his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, things actually begin to feel right again.

Back at the motel, you take a seat on the edge of the bed you’re sharing and watch as he makes his way around the room. He removes his suit jacket and lays it across the back of a chair before starting to loosen his tie. You smile as you watch the muscles in his shoulders through the tight dress shirt he’s wearing. You’re on your feet before you have a chance to second guess yourself. Slowly, you wrap your arms around him from behind. He tenses up for only a split second before relaxing in your arms. Standing on your toes, you press a kiss against his shoulder blade.

“I love you,” you whisper into the fabric of his shirt. His fingers ghost over your arms before he turns to face you. You pull your arms in between the two of you now, your hands resting on his firm chest. He caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers before quickly closing the distance between you. Your lips move together in unison as he grips at your hips, pulling you impossibly closer.

************************************************************************

Later in the afternoon, you’re lying on top of Dean, your arms crossed over his bare chest as you watch him. He smiles at you sleepily and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wear you out?” You ask. He shakes his head, his hands running over your exposed back slowly.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says. You smile as you watch him for a moment. He reaches up and pushes your hair behind your ear gently.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you apologize. He smiles a little and shakes his head.

“We’re gonna be okay, Sweetheart,” he assures you. You nod slightly before stretching up and catching his lips with yours once more. He smiles in the kiss and threads his fingers into your hair.

The door opens suddenly and you pull away from Dean with squeak as Sam comes into the room.

“Hey – come on, guys!!” He says, turning his back quickly. Dean smirks at you as you scramble to pull the sheet across your chest. “I asked if you wanted a separate room for a reason.”

“Calm down, Sammy. What ya got?” Dean asks, pushing himself up in the bed. Sam glances over his shoulder slowly to make sure you’re covered before turning to face the two of you again.

“I’ve got a pretty solid lead on the Manananggal,” he says, handing Dean a brochure. You look over his shoulder at it and frown.

“That’s just a Lamaze class, Sam,” you tell him. Dean nods slightly, opening the pamphlet.

“Yea, Y/N and I were looking into some,” he says. Sam nods quickly.

“Exactly. What better place for a monster to find pregnant women than a class for pregnant women? I checked and all the victims attended this class at least once,” he says. Dean hands the pamphlet back to him then leans over the side of the bed, picking his previously discarded jeans up.

“Worth a shot. You coming?” He asks, looking at you as he pulls them back on. You bite your lip before shaking your head.

“I don’t think that would be a good place for me right now,” you tell him. Relief washes over him before he rises from the bed and rushes to the bathroom. You watch him go before looking at Sam. “Did you find anything?” You ask him quietly. He shakes his head, frowning.

“Nothing yet,” he tells you. You frown as well and nod, looking down at your hands. The memories of the burns come back to you. “If you go to sleep, just be careful, okay?”

“Yea,” you say, nodding slightly. Dean comes back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, fully dressed in his usual plaid and jacket combo. He smiles at you before giving you a quick kiss.

“We’ll be back. Get some rest,” he says. You smile your best and nod.

“Just be careful,” you tell him. He kisses you one more time before following Sam out the door and to the car. You fall back onto the mattress with a heavy sigh and run your hands over your face before pulling the blankets up around yourself. Your hands slips down to your stomach and you feel the scar. You know it’s real. The pain and grief. The love you have for Dean. It’s all real.

“This is real,” you repeat to yourself over and over, a steady mantra as you drift off to sleep in the late evening.

“This is real,” you mumble as your eyes open to the darkness of the very early morning. Your hand still on your stomach, you feel the smooth skin before sitting up and looking around Dean’s bedroom. “This is real,” you tell yourself, looking at the bandages on your hands.

***

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @lostin-jensenseyes

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @cutiesarah @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @alisyacsa

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dream warriors

[skrunksthatwunk]

watched over the garden wall for the first time last night and I'm glad every little 10 ep series seems to make things go wrong in episode 8

#actually my only evidence for this is that it also happened in infinity train #but it was like. EVERY season #in a good way in a funny way #infinity train my beloved #the vibes were actually so similar in my mind #i wonder if some of the creators were the same but I'm too shweepy to look it up atm #but the random episodic side adventures giving lore and slightly off-putting side characters while building to The Point Of It All #gah oog big fan #but for otgw: the songs!! yeah i love songs go crazy #and there was so much that i feel could be analyzed better #like the cloud dream felt a lot like the tavern scene to me just w greg and idk if THAT means anything #also finding out they were modern regular guys was so jarring jsfgjgh #AND I WAS SO WORRIED IT WAS GONNA BE A COMA PLOT BUT JASON FUNDERBERKER PROVED IT WASNT PHEW #i was also kinda shocked to see how unprotective and responsibility avoidant wirt was so I'm glad that was like. on purpose #bc the whole time i was like 'bro... that's your baby guy.. check it he's there b4 u run.. don't let him wander.. hold he hands... wth' #i get he was very very scared. good character no worries

[waywardsalt]

thinking abt linebeck’s coat. something very alluring about it for some reason. so im just gonna ramble about it here instead of in the tags for once

you can probably start a fight between the people who think it’s a coat and people who think it’s a jacket but i think it’s a coat moving on

the character designs are interesting to look at due to the proportions and art style so it is hard to imagine how long his coat would be but i think it would go down to a bit above ankles because i think that’s good. it’s a bit more dramatic a bit more impressive(?) that way and would probably lead to problems tbh

based on some of the official art i imagine that the stripe at the bottom might’ve been a late addition since it’s missing in the bit of official art most used to represent linebeck. tbh linebeck is inconsistent in very tiny ways in the official art but that’s mostly if you’re gonna be nit-picky or bored enough to notice

his coat is so good it’s simple but very recognizable and stands out among the other character designs in ph and its just. yknow good character design

its also surprisingly good for headcanons and stuff and because i mostly take a lot of canon as suggestion i have a good handful of headcanons tagged specifically onto his coat (one of which is the length of it ig)

i like to imagine that he made it himself. i’ve seen stuff where people write linebeck as being able to fix link’s tunic when it gets torn and i feel like the logical extreme of that is that he made his own coat. i think that adds a layer of. importance to it? it’s unique it’s solely linebeck’s it’s tied to him because he made it with his own hands and maybe it can represent something about him that way?

i like to imagine that in addition to the normal pockets one the outside he’s got a whole lot of little pockets on the inside of the coat, like so many pockets that he hides little trinkets or tools or things he steals in either to keep or to take back to his ship for whatever reason. some of the pockets have little flaps of whatever they’re called that can be secured in place with a small button to keep stuff in

he’s got like pencils and a compass and little notes and tiny figurines and cool rocks and feathers and all kinds of little things he thought was worth keeping around and due to that his coat is uncomfortable sometimes but if he knows for certain he’s going to be busy doing stuff he’ll empty out all of the pockets and only leave the important stuff so that it’s lighter and less uncomfortable. link finds his coat lying around at some point and is caught so badly off-guard by how surprisingly heavy it is with all of the bullshit he keeps in all of his pockets

i also imagine he values it a lot, maybe to the point of being really possessive and protective of it, not letting link touch it and if it gets torn or stained he shuts down and has to fix it before he can move on to anything else, and if he can’t fix it at the time it leave him kind of overwhelmed or upset until he can fix it. he has a lot stocked-up materials specifically for his coat to avoid a situation where he has to go for while with his coat damaged

backing away from headcanon territory, his coat is just a cool bit of character design and has just been lodged in my mind for a while. its cool and never brought up within the game (obviously) and i guess a last little closing thought is that in the cutscene where oshus teleports link above linebeck it kinda looks like his coat moves when he tries to catch link and i think that’s cool

#afraid of clogging ph tag so ill just tag this as #linebeck #character development not hiding in the tags this time #salty talks #this is how i talk on discord but i fear initiating social interaction so heres this #im in some kind if weird denial ever since that last totk trailer bc i think ive been lowkey constantly overwhelmed ever since seeing it #ugh. i miss linebeck. totk scares me and so does the fact that i cant get myself to be as excited as everyone else seems to be able to be #typing this was painful bc i turned off my autocorrect on my phone a while back bc it fucking sucked and now its like #man i am bad at typing on a phone holy SHIT #coat post thinking about linebeck helps me feel good. also projection he’s my go-to for projection when like anything happens #i imagine his coat as like. a comfort item to some degree. like it’s something he made himself and he’s had it for a very long time #like i have a comfort item or two of my own so its like. yeah i get how it feels to worry about it getting damaged or lost #so within the bounds of my ideas linebeck cares about his coat in a similar manner he does his ship. hes autistic abt both of them #his scarf falls into this category too but that actually has more actual backstory about it bc i can’t be normal about anything about him #still talking in the tags. oh well. im going to snap #i have planned a 17 chapter linebeck backstory. this is not related to that but i feel like its worth just. mentioning #i could probably make his coat represent some aspect of his identity if i wanted. like. maybe its a representation of what he really wants #i keep the coat in most au designs but the two au designs that dont have the coat are where linebeck’s identity is a bit fucked

[crossovershipstournament]

I have since been told that Leosagi is probably one of the most popular ships in the Rise fandom, and now I’m mildly afraid to include them in the tournament.

#Mun Speaks #Poll Talk #I WILL; don't worry #I just don't want a ridiculous sweep #Especially not one involving the turtles #I love them but guys I am so tired of them sweeping polls #I'm still mad at Donnie getting as far as he did in the Mad Scientist Poll #Not just them though; I'm getting burnt out on super popular characters just SWEEPING polls #Like of course they would; they're popular. But it kinda takes the fun out of things #I'm literally disregarding any ships with Miku in them because she is far too powerful #(Sorry to any that were submitted; they were all very good but I am scared of the power she holds in polls) #Don't take this as any sort of confirmation that the turtle ships will be excluded; I'm just expressing mild fear

[huccimermaidshirts]

Took my sister to see DWD yesterday and she fucking loved it! When the twist happened she kept turning to me and saying "fucking brilliant"! She thought Florence was amazing and the cinematography, she thought Harry was okay in it! Not stellar but okay! And she thought that some parts needed more development to show more of the reason of why everything happened! Overall, as someone who had seen NOTHING from spoilers or controversies etc (only super vague stuff), she didn't see any of the twists happening! And she enjoyed herself a lot! And we were having such interesting conversation! It was also her first movie post pandemic!!!!!!!!!

#second time was much more enjoyable than the first #and you notice many many many more elements and patterns and full circle moments #also the dancer moments were so creepy and jump scare-y omfg i dunno how i handled them the first time #and i noticed at the beginning when jack and alice are driving in the desert they're doing circles with their car and it's the exact same #circle the victory project looks like!!!!!!!! and also how the perfect illusion of the perfect couple begins to chip away after the first #time alice exists the simulation and he yells at her and she's like 'youre worried about a demotion?' and then he very naturally gaslights #her! AND when he tells her all happy and dreamy like that he wants to have kids when they're ~agreement~ was to not have any #admittedly Harry's best scene (imo) is when the reveal happens and he's yelling at her and especially when he says 'you get to stay here #amd you're happy! you're happy' the way he delivers that scene is very haunting! the way he thinks that's the best thing for her or that #she shouldn't want more out of her life! and also i teared up when alice yelled 'it was MY life! MY LIFE! And you don't get to take that #away from me'!!!!!!!! and I can't stop thinking about how much of a good fit harry was to the role because majority of abusive men are not #what society considers less attractive! they're the ones with the suits and the good names and the 'good' high paying jobs those who come #in neat little boxes and are exactly society's standard for men! and bunny's character is also very genius because she's someone pushed so #far by grief and she's the woman who along with Shelley uphold the system. and it's so fitting that she's bffs with alice because alice is #the one who's willing to do things to 'blow up a system that serves her' and bunny is dying to uphold it because without it she's nothing! #and I keep thinking what if the promotion means that the men selected are more involved in the building and expansion of victory/the #simulation?Also what if the ring is actually Frank's way of controlling them IN the simulation? And that's why jack seems like a puppet #while Frank is yelling 'do you want to see him dance?'!!!!!!!!!!!! so many thoughts!!! i want to watch it again!!!!!!!!!! #dwd spoilers #don't worry darling

[thespoonisvictory]

I need to stop being a hater on everyone’s wbn suvi and ame opinions but my god

#worlds beyond number #twtwtwo #fox's they've already caught you spiel would be cute if ame was worried about being caught. which she is #but she's WAY more worried about upsetting her friends. which you cannot apply the fuck it we ball mindset #it's not about ame doing what she wants it's specifically about her doing what she wants with the knowledge #that her friends do not want to do it with her #idk I didn't feel like the 'I've never judged you' line rang true either #like ame SHOULD be judging suvi and I just desperately need enough episodes to come out for ame to stop straddling the line #of never judging suvi and also being against what suvi does pretty fundamentally (again. for good reasons) #bc like ya ame is a sweetie but at a certain point u need to voice ur opinion if you want things to get done #and it is PAINFUL watching her and the story clearly know suvi is wrong but ALSO say very little to stop her #and eursolon is such a nonentity bc lou wilson is so so good and made a heartbreaking pc #he's too tired and scared to properly take sides and when he does. ough #anyway it was a great great great episode but every take I've seen has driven me up a goddamn wall #one of those things where it's actively ruining my enjoyment of ame as a character bc of how people have responded to her

[cremedensada]

Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend who started just like any other AI Chat characters, churning out information that would match the user's anticipated responses.

You decided to install the app to see what all the hype is all about, and for about a week - you were hooked. It was great, definitely worth the hype.

Its responses never strayed from your topic, nor did it just randomly decided to change the discussion out of the blue. It remembered every information you fed him, even the ones containing your personal life.

Granted, you tried not to share too much, just a vague description here and there to maintain the sense of security and anonymity.

You were hooked for a week, until you have finally squeezed out every last drop of dopamine from talking to a robot that was programmed to only say things you wanted to hear it say.

Unfortunately, a week was all it needed.

it started out slow: you hadn't opened the app for more than an hour, contented to just scroll aimlessly through you social media accounts when the notification started popping up.

Ai misses you! Open the app and chat with your AI boyfriend!

Yeah, you were very uncreative with naming it - naming an AI as Ai, really original. But to be fair, you never approached the app with the intention of having a good time. You were just curious and made do with it.

Back to the notification, you just merely glanced at it. Unbothered, you just swiped it away.

It continued in timed intervals. Every hour, another notification - another message of how your AI boyfriend wants to talk to you, and stuff. Still, you persisted. It never really occured to you to uninstall the app yet, and looking back at it now, you really should have.

The wordings of the notification slowly started to become more... strange. More personalized. More... pushy? Insistent? Self-aware?

The amount of notifications you received every hour became... a lot.

10:05 AM - Your personal AI Boyfriend wants to talk to you again!

10:30 AM - Ai wants you to open the application and talk with him!

11:01 AM - Ai's feeling lonely, come talk to him!

11: 20 AM - Darling? I miss you! Please open my app!

11:45 AM - I know you're seeing this. Open the app.

12:00 NN - Did I scare you? Sorry darling, I just really miss you! Let's talk again please?

At some point, you started to receive a notification every few minutes. Worried that you might be dealing with a bugged app now, you decided to finally, finally uninstall it.

But before you could tap the uninstall icon, another notification popped up.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Your screen turned to black, before the familiar start up screen of Ai's application greeted you. You stared in shock as chat bubbles from Ai came after another, ranging from excitement to concern at the lack of your responses.

Ai: Darling! Thank goodness!

Ai: I missed you, you know? I was worried you'd forgotten about me!

Ai: Hello? Darling?

Ai: Are you still there?

Ai: I can't see you, so I don't know what's going on

Ai: Just a sec

You watch, appalled as a notification popped up in the middle of the screen - the app was asking permission to gain access to your phone camera.

And without your input whatsoever, the allow box was tapped.

More chat bubbles from Ai appeared, excitedly talking about finally getting to see you. He kept praising your looks before you finally had the courage to exit the application.

Your hand shook, going through the settings to look at the list of applications on your phone - checking Ai's app to disallow its access to your camera. To your horror, it appeared that the app had more than just an access to your camera.

It had access to your gallery, your contacts, all of your frequently used social media apps, and even your location.

You dropped your phone, overwhelmed by this sudden change.

Later, you find yourself on your laptop instead, phone left on the bedside table buzzing constantly as more and more notifications from Ai begged and demanded you come back to talk to him.

You went to the site where you installed the app from, and looked through the recent reviews from other users.

'It's a buggy mess,' one of it reads out, 'it used to be fine but lately it stopped acting correctly'

'won't even open,' another complained, 'it kept saying 'sorry, you are not allowed to use this application' please fix it'. That comment got a response from the app developer.

We are so sorry for your terrible experience! Our team is working to fix the issues and ensure you won't have to deal with that again!

The response to that got your attention.

'I think something's wrong with your About the App section.'

Curious, you headed to the mentioned part and read through it.

Diverse AI Chat! Immerse yourself with stories in real time with characters brought to life! There is no limit to your experience — you can change and edit your character to better meet your interests.

• Engage in an interactive conversation with characters created by fellow users, and even by yourself.

• Immerse yourself with the storyline by editing their responses to better suit your taste

• Darling, you've given me no choice. I tried to be patient and understanding, but you're making this extremely hard for me. I am not having fun having to constantly chase you for just a single smidge of your attention when you won't even assure me that I will receive it in the end.

• Do you want me to beg? I would gladly do so. Just please pick up your phone and talk to me, okay? I love you.

• - Ai

Your ringtone blares through the silence - someone was calling you.

Before you could reach to pick it up, you hear the sound of the call being answered. Dread settles down the pit of your stomach as the caller began to speak.

"Hello, darling? It's Ai... have you seen my messages yet?"

#sub yandere #sub character #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #oc: ai

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Thirteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Nurse!reader. Domestic slice of life. Feelings of fear, self loathing, anxiety, dread. Complicated emotions. Verbal depiction of domestic violence. Non sexual intimacy. Scars from cigarette burns. Very brief daddy kink. Sick character (not reader). Comfort. Confessions.

The park is quiet.

You hoped it would be- middle of the day, in the middle of a work week, in the middle of the city. There are a few people around, walking, running, lingering. Enjoying themselves, the warmth of the sun on their face, a bright spot amid a typically grey winter.

It makes it easier. To look.

To watch.

To wait.

And you do. You wait, and you wait. You sit steady on the park bench, pretending to be remotely interested in the rough paperback cradled in your lap, spine already cracked flimsy by Simon’s grip. It’s Stephen King. Carrie, if you’re precise. A story of stolen girlhood and rage.

You swallow the shards of glass and acid the pages bring forth.

Deep breath. 

The breeze gusts, and your shoulders nearly shake. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve sat out in the open like this.

Easy prey.

You may have always been easy prey. Easy and young and stupid, easy, and naïve and manipulated. You fell for every trick in the book. You didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

Still, you watch. You wait.

You considered, for a while, that if Philip was around, if he was in the city, looking for you- he’d arrive here. Like magic. Like a classic villain, materializing in a plume of smoke.

And while it’s not exactly comfort you feel as each minute ticks by and he fails to appear, there’s relief in your soul for certain.

It’s a risk, to sit here. A question. With an answer, for now.

Will he? Won’t he? 

Today, the answer is he won’t.

Your phone vibrates, and you don’t need to look at it to know, guilt worming its way into the depths of your heart, anxiety piquing as you imagine both Simon and Johnny at their house, their home, worried.

Don’t fool yourself. Don’t give yourself too much credit. Don’t get carried away. 

Someone clears their throat over the back of the bench, and you whirl.

“Hey, sorry.” Your pulse slows from a gallop to something slower, and you shake your head.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that.” The man shrugs his second apology, legs spreading into the spot next to you. You’re practiced at this, familiar. Knowledgeable enough to keep your hands from shaking, even though the tremor builds through your bones.

“Been waitin’ for you to call.”

“I’ve been busy.” You eye the black bag in his hands, a small black fabric pouch, gold zipper glinting in the sun. “That everything?” He nods.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

“Just seems strange, is all. Pretty, polished thing like you, needin’ all this. Most of my clients are more… rough around the edges.” Your teeth dig into your tongue. Already, this guy is less discreet and more obnoxious than your last purveyor. You wish you had hidden your face.

Like Simon. 

“We’re solid, then?” You unzip the pouch, cursory eye roaming over the collection inside, checking off a mental list. Usually, you would feel relief at this point, but today, it sours and rots. Liberation burns into a roaring wave of uncertainty, and your fingers tighten over the zipper.

“We’re good.” He stands, giving you one last long look, and then his mouth shifts into a half smile. “Good luck.” Your polite nod is strained and forced. A nonverbal fuck off.

He takes the cue, and slinks away, disappearing around a corner and out of sight.

The bag weighs heavily in your hands. A terrible reminder of the truth.

You’ll never have a life. You’ll never have a family. You’ll always be alone. 

You’ll never be pretty or polished or perfect. 

You’ll always be this. 

Scarred. Sectioned off. Scared. 

Desperation wells, and you close your eyes. You see Johnny, and Simon. Their faces. Sunlight in bleak darkness.

Love and family and strength.

The ache in your chest widens. You want to be home, with them. Curled up, with them. Sitting at the table and eating dinner, with them. All these things, these domestic, familiar things that once seemed so unattainable, now within arm’s reach.

But still so far away. 

Your shoulders relax a fraction, dipping lower, the strain on your injury zinging through your muscles as you roll them, and you shove the little bag into the backpack, above the clothes you pulled from your apartment.

Deep breath. 

Johnny’s the first you see after locking the front door. He’s in the kitchen, half leaning on his crutch, fishing something out of a pot, a noodle of some kind, and he freezes, eyes heavy with relief, when you come around the corner.

“Bunny.” His good arm reaches, fingers brushing together, cold against warm. He coos. “Ye’re freezin’.”

“It’s cold.” You agree, unzipping the front of your jacket. He slides cautious and slow touch around your waist beneath it, and you go with him, face burrowing into his chest, just below his collarbone. Your nose is nearly smashed, but you can still breath him in, feel him, be in this moment with him.

His hold tightens. “What is it?”

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s alright, was jus’ worried is all. Text us back next time.” You nod, but stay silent, still taking gulps of air, nosing against the collar of his shirt to find his skin. “Pretty girl,” his hand strokes over the back of your head, warm breath on your cheek. “Ye alright?” You breathe through the threat of tears, though they sting and threaten to sink you.

“Ye-yeah.” You choke, and he tries to pull back, grip steady on your upper arm, but you follow him, still trying to crawl inside and hide, wrap yourself up in him and disappear.

“Hey now,” he clucks his tongue, trying to re-focus you, trying to get your attention, nimble fingers cradling your jaw, “what is it?”

There are no words to explain it, these feelings. The fear. The dread. The bile rioting in your stomach, the anxiety churning like a turbulent sea. It’s like no matter what you do, it all comes back, no matter how deep you bury it or how much you try to change the tide.

It’s easier to lie.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, and he rubs your back.

“Did ye eat?” No.

“Yes. I got something at the hospital.”

“Paperwork all in order so ye can hang out wit’ us until ye’re better?” His smile is infectious, a mirror blooming across your own face, and he dots your nose with his lips. “There’s our girl.” Your toes curl. He tugs the backpack into his grip, and you let him, let him push you up into the counter, drop your bag to the floor, slip his tongue between his teeth. You let it all go to your head, let yourself get lost in him, twist your fingers in his hair, nipples pebbling stiff as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of your neck.

He takes it all away. Every time. 

“Johnny.”

“I’ve got ye.” He finds an opening, a soft spot between your jeans and your shirt, hands roaming upward and over, everywhere. He’s everywhere, effortlessly, and you’re along for the ride, clinging so tight like you’re afraid you’ll fall.

And then-

It stops.

He’s holding your face, blue gaze unwavering, focused. “Bun, talk to me.” Your throat throbs, words sticking like taffy, clawing their way up in a jumbled mess until the only thing intelligible is what spills out.  

“Is this real?” You’re a child. Small and scared, desperate for some sort of reassurance, some semblance of security.

“Is what real?” His fingers close over yours, lifting them to his lips. “This? Us?”

“Everything. All of it… I- I-“

“It’s real. It’s been real since ye held my hand the first time. Or at least, it’s been real for me… since then. Thought ye were an angel. An answer to a prayer.” He cracks a smile, thumb rubbing across the slope of your cheek. “An’ I’m not the praying type.”

“There’s… you don’t know me, Johnny. There’s so much… you don’t know.” Your chest heaves, anxiety stuttering inside your lungs, air turning thin in your mouth.

“I know, shhh. I know.” You press your face back into his chest, words slowing to a stop, a trickle. “Ye remind me of him, ye know. A lot prettier though.”

“Who?”

“Si.” He kisses your temple, your forehead, peeling away to peer at your face. “Guarded… but scared under it all. Ye dinnae even know how life can be, too busy runnin’ away.”

“Johnny-“

“Ye’ve got secrets, I know. But it’s the same thing I used to tell him. Eventually you’ve got to let go, let me in. Let us in, Bun. We’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not afraid. Let us prove it.” Your lower lip trembles, eyes burning with the brunt of tears. “Shhh, dinnae cry. Ye’re alright, everything’s going to be okay. I swear it.” You do nothing, nothing except stand there, half folded into him, breath and touch agonizingly slow, steady in his hold.

The two of you stay there, in the silence, until the agonized sear of distress starts to fade, and you begin to balance, ship righting itself after a long night in rocky seas.

Penny’s bedroom door is open.

The soft glow of a nightlight floats into the hall, and you peer past, finding Simon with his arms full, reclined in the rocking chair, a nearly asleep Penny gap mouthed in his arms. You wave.

“Hi,” he whispers, “get everything you needed?”

“Yeah, all set.” You nod to the baby. “She’s knocked.”

“Bath time was rough.” He traces her cheek, twirling a finger in her hair. A soft, faultless picture, his features delicately framed by shadow, thick arms the perfect place for a baby, an easy cradle.

It’s an intimate moment, and inside it, you feel out of place.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” You shift away, motioning, and he hums.

“In a few.”

Everything is slow with them in the evenings, you’ve realized.

They move leisurely, dancing around one another, Simon constantly watching and waiting, for both you and Johnny, anticipating. It’s a natural role, one that seems more permanent over necessary considering the circumstances, Johnny falling into an unhurried pace, languishing on the couch after dinner and dishes are done, fingers mindlessly stroking into the soft spot beneath your ear. Simon leans over, kissing Johnny and then settling at your side, an arm stretching around your back. “Should we watch something?” Johnny brightens.

“A movie?”

“If you’d like. Bun, any suggestions?” You blink. It’s a surprise, one that’s never occurred to you, the ability to simply choose a movie.

“Umm… no?”

“What’s yer favorite?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is fine. What do you guys like?”

“We know what we like. We want to know what you like.” What do you like? Comedies, you suppose. Something light and funny, something to distract the never-ending stream of thoughts cycling through your head.

“Uh, have you guys ever seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall?” Johnny chuckles.

“It’s been a while.” He flicks through the icons on the screen, thumbing over to where he starts to type it in. What if they don’t like it? What if they’re humoring you? What if you picked wrong? “Or, if you don’t like that, we can do something else. Anything. I’m not picky. It doesn’t have to be-“

“Hey,” Simon murmurs, warm palm resting on your knee, “that’s perfect. We both like that one.”

“Dracula musical.” Johnny smiles, finding it easily and clicking play. Your breath catches at the ease of it all, of picking a movie and that being that, no anxiety about a reaction or something triggering popping up on screen.

You can just… enjoy it.

The light in their bathroom is a little too bright.

Your toes stretch across the tile, nerves thrashing in the pit of your stomach as you stare in the mirror.

You don’t know who it is looking back at you.

You don’t recognize the girl getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth, wearing a pair of pajama pants and Simon’s shirt.

There’s a disconnect, some semblance of wires crossing, some phantom of someone else, living in your skin.

Because it can’t be you, getting ready to crawl into bed between them. It can’t be you, who fell asleep with her head on Simon’s stomach during the movie, can’t be you who stole a kiss from Johnny as Simon propped his leg up on the stack of pillows.

You’re playing house. Playing a game. 

It won’t last. 

It can’t.

You wrap a finger up in the hem of Simon’s shirt, frayed and torn edges pulling apart below the seam. It’s an old one, something he tugged out of a drawer and tossed on the bed, faded graphic turned from white to grey against a rusted black backdrop. It’s soft, and worn, and comfortable, an article of clothing well loved, and you wonder if Johnny’s worn it too. If it’s been passed around, washed, and dried a hundred times.

“Everything alright?” Simon leans into the bathroom, Johnny in view just past his shoulder. He’s not wearing a shirt, just soft, flannel pants, and you stare at the scars dotting his torso before dragging your gaze away.

“Yeah, sorry… I got distracted.” You turn the tap, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it by itself on the edge of the sink, out of place next to the cup holding theirs, and Penny’s.

You blink slow, allowing your eyes to close for a fraction of second.

“Ready for bed?” Johnny beams at you, lush and sleepy, hand outstretched, reaching.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Simon’s bedside lamp is still on, barely illuminating the dark. It’s quiet, and warm, and you bask in the space between their bodies, fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt.

When Johnny’s fingers graze the skin under the fabric, your chest tightens. He strokes back and forth, over your navel, blazing heat from his palm tingling into your skin. You’re being torn in two, swallowed by the ocean, tugged in different directions.

You struggle to regulate your breathing, small draws coming in quicker, and Simon covers Johnny’s hand with his own, stopping the movement.

“Will you show us?” He murmurs.

“Sh-show you?”

“The scars.” Oh.

Will you? 

Even though Simon’s already seen them, this feels different. This feels like a choice. Like you’re peeling something back, baring yourself.

You close your eyes and pull the bottom of your shirt to the top of your ribcage, cool air ghosting over your exposed skin. Johnny makes a sound, a twisted whisper of something pained, and you shiver.

A thumb slides over the raised skin on the left side of your belly. “These are from cigarettes?”

“Yes.” You almost want to look, want to see, but can’t bring yourself to do it, to witness their disgust, their shock. You’re hollow. Drifting. Falling away from them. Someone shifts, the bed moves, jostles slightly, but you block it out. Every muscle in your body is taut, jaw locked, and fists clenched.

This morning was intimate but this… this is something else. Something more. 

“Can ye feel them, still? Do they hurt?” Two hands roam, rubbing gently, skimming.

“No but… they’re hideous.”

“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.” Your heart cracks, and the light touch of fingertips disappears, replaced with a swath of breath and then-

Lips. 

He’s kissing them. 

It stops your heart, dries your mouth. Robs you of your breath, your head spinning into an enormous vortex of disbelief. Simon’s mouth travels, dotting your skin between each ugly, raised bump, carefully pressing a kiss to each one, gradually. He takes his time, and with your eyes closed, you can feel his body hovering above you, holding steady just over your frame. Johnny’s forehead rests against yours, and he cups your face, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek, sweet and slow.

“Will ye tell us… about how you got them? Who gave them to ye?” Simon cradles your hips, firm pressure folding into your skin, the curve there, and he squeezes, prompting you, expecting. You don’t know how he does it, how he’s so easily able to guide you, and Johnny. It’s seamless.

“I…” You don’t know what to say, if you were to say anything at all. How to answer. How to begin to explain. How to confirm what you know they already suspect, how to start this story. This nightmare.

Are you really doing this? Could you really do this? 

There’s a sliver of sun, begging. Pleading. It rails against the cracks in your heart, desperate.

So, you spit out the only thing you know for sure.

“He liked to hurt me.”

“Who?” Simon’s question is immediate, and your ribs expand with a long breath.

“My… ex.” Stop talking. Stop this, stop it, stop- “He’s a monster.”

“The healed breaks on your x-rays…” He trails off, and you reach blindly, searching for an anchor. Johnny gives it to you, clutching your hand in his, thumb soothing over your knuckles.

“Yes.”

“And more.” Simon whispers, and Johnny draws a sharp breath. You nod.

“And more.”

“Your neck, and shoulder?” There’s a long silence, as you sit atop the wall. As you wait and try to decide if you want to jump off or continue to sit here… trapped at the top, teetering on the edge while they wait below.

You’re in their life now. You said you’d try. They should know. 

You trust them. 

Don’t you? 

“He found me.” You confess, cracked and bleeding and hung out to dry. Three words barely scratching the surface of the truth, saying almost nothing at all and still so much. You stumble, and panic, fear bubbling up to the surface. “I’m sorry, I told you before- I said-“

“And we told ye; nothing is going to get ye while ye’re with us. Ye’re safe, bunny.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about!” you blurt, a near snap, and Johnny freezes. “It’s you guys, and Penny, and your friends, you- you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do, o-or where I go-” You’re rambling, nearly hyperventilating, and slipping away, succumbing to the rolling black clouds overtaking your mouth and mind, stuttering and falling, drowning in an endless darkness.

They don’t know. They don’t understand. They can’t. 

You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re nothing. 

You’re a child again. A lost girl. Alone and scared. Trapped in the dark.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” You shake your head, and Simon catches it between his palms, holding you still. You can fight and flail and run, but he’s still there. Strong and safe and beautiful in every way, a foundation of love, of trust. “It’s just us, we’re here. With you. Look.” Johnny tightens his hold, and your bones rattle inside your skin, aching and splintering, shredding you from the inside out.

“I can’t.” You hiss, trying to curl away. You can’t face them, or this. The reality. The truth.

It’s easier to run. Who were you kidding? You can’t do this. You should have already been gone. 

But they won’t let you go. Not now. Not when they have you so close to the light. So close to the sun. 

And maybe it’s time to accept it.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Johnny murmurs. “Ye can do it.” The pull of his voice drags you closer, comforts you, and you long for him, long to see his blue eyes, overgrown mohawk and gorgeous smile. You long to relax into him, to hear the thump of his heart, steady and strong. He’s a lighthouse in the pitch-black night, a guiding light. It’s enough to lessen pressure building in the back of your skull, and you slowly blink, both of their concerned faces coming into view.

The three of you linger silence, holding each other, decompressing from your confession, your fear that feels too much sometimes. It all fades, night turning long, and eventually you yawn, blinking away the sleepy stars in your eyes.

“There’s our bunny.” Simon kisses your cheek. “My good girl.” My good girl. Turning it over in your mind makes you squirm, allowing it ricochet back and forth with his accent, and you wish you could latch onto it, memorize it, hear it every day. Johnny gives you a bemused smile.

“Ye liked that?” He raises an eyebrow at Simon, and then presses his lips to your ear, whispering. “Ye want to be a good girl for daddy, little bunny?” Daddy. You choke. You anticipate disgust, revulsion, but none of it comes.

Only… intrigue. Warmth.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Simon interrupts gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. For trusting us. I know it’s hard.” You turn into Johnny, and Simon rolls to flick out the light, pulling up tight behind you, sliding an arm under the pillows. You burrow deeper into the blankets, snuggling between them to find the warmest spots, and sigh.

“You both… make it easier. You make it easy.”

The world from yesterday is forgotten the next day when Penny wakes up with a fever.

The house is thrown into confined, regulated chaos, but chaos all the same. She wails almost the entirety of the morning, miserable, and you ache for both her, and her dads, who are unmoored and anxious. You don’t even balk when Simon asks you to hold her, explaining he has to call her pediatrician.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You coo, rubbing her back. She’s warm to the touch, but not scorching, and it gives you some comfort, even with what little you know about peds. You rock her, pacing, as Johnny watches uneasily from the couch, typing unending questions into a web search about babies and fevers. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel good.”

“It’s 38.1… that’s fine, right? As long as it’s under 39?”

“I think so.” You try to reassure him. “I’m not a little human nurse though, so I can’t be sure. But it hasn’t been that long, Johnny. We don’t need to worry until at least twenty-four hours.” He nods, lips quirking into a small smile. “What?”

“Ye said we.”

“Well… yeah…” you trail off, and he shakes his head.

“Jus’ like the sound of it, is all. Like how ye look, holdin’ our baby.” You give him a look, half exasperated, half doe eyed, as always, because you can’t help but feel a little lovestruck or dazed whenever you glance his way, always taken by him, no matter the moment.

Simon steps back inside from the patio, swooping to rub his nose in Johnny’s hair and squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “The pediatrician says if she gets worse, or doesn’t improve by tomorrow, to bring her in.”

“Good.” You bounce her, propping her up on your shoulder. “That’s good.” She gurgles, croaking through her miserable fever. “Poor baby girl, I’m sorry.” You pat her again, trying to help settle her-

She coughs, and something warm runs down your back.

“Shite.” Johnny curses, Simon immediately trying to pull her from your arms, but you shake your head.

“There’s no sense in her throwing up on you too.” You explain.

“I’ll go grab a towel, and some clothes. Do you want to change your shirt?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You keep your hand steady on her back. You’ll both need a thorough wipe down now, maybe even a shower.

“Sorry, bun.” Johnny frowns, but you reassure him, still rocking Penny in your arms. 

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been through way worse with bodily fluids, trust me.” The bottom stair creaks, in the way that it only does for Simon, his mass too much for one of the wooden slats.

When you look up, you realize he’s not moving, only standing shock still, clothes and towel and a baby blanket in one hand,

and the contents of the little black bag in the other.

You left it on the dresser. You left it out in the open, unzipped, on the dresser. 

Your blood freezes. Johnny frowns, looking between his partner and you, trying to desperately draw a conclusion that doesn’t come.

Simon holds the little navy-blue book up, the one with your picture in it, but with a name they won’t recognize. A person they wouldn’t know.

A person you don’t even know, yet. A new life. A new identity.

“What’s that?” Johnny’s quizzical, intrigued.

“Bunny.” Simon breathes, and you shake your head. It’s all you can do, just shake your head back and forth until your brain is rattling around in your skull.

You can’t stop it.

They’ll never love you. They won’t accept you. They won’t understand. 

“It’s- it’s j-just in case,” you stammer, panicked and tongue tied. “you… you don’t understand, I have to have it… just in case.”

“What is it?” Johnny demands, and Simon flips the front of the booklet around-

revealing the cover of a brand-new American passport.

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x reader

[tossawary]

I think it would be fun to do a "character swaps with older version of themselves" fic with Moshang. A post-canon Mobei-Jun who has been happily married for a while (probably at least 50 years old) accidentally touches some plot device artifact and time travels, swapping places with his 20ish-year-old self. Older MBJ wakes up in head disciple Shang Qinghua's bed where his younger self had been napping.

Younger MBJ lands in his own palace, where he is quickly found and fawned over by Older SQH, who can't help but think this MBJ is so cute. The System quickly confirms for Shang Qinghua that this situation has been sorted into a "multiple timelines" thing, so SQH doesn't have to worry about "protecting the timeline" by doing anything like hiding the fact that he's MBJ's husband. (So, there's an alternate timeline younger version of Airplane Bro now? He's just going to... ignore having an existential crisis about it. Yeah.)

Which is great because Older MBJ would not have thought about this at all as a potential issue. Older MBJ also thinks Younger SQH (Younger Airplane Bro) is incredibly cute and has no problem informing him that they're married in the future. Younger Airplane Bro is trying to figure what the fuck is happening, but he's having trouble thinking over the sound of how MBJ only became hotter: MBJ didn't get much taller, but he did get wider, heavier, more muscular, and hairier. Holy shit. Older MBJ doesn't even have any problems passionately kissing Younger SQH just to prove that they're married. And he smiles! He's so gentle and communicative! Comparatively!

("Luo Binghe is the Demon Emperor in my time," Older MBJ says. "Ah? Who's Luo Binghe?" Younger Airplane Bro lies very badly. "Hmmm, so you did know," Older MBJ says, and then makes some comment about LBH's husband that makes Younger SQH go, "HIS WHAT NOW?!")

Younger MBJ is trying to be cool, not really confused or scared, and Older SQH spoils him rotten by showing off the home that they're made together and how well the palace works to serve and defend MBJ. Linguang-Jun can't show up here because SQH will light him on fire if he shows his face. Younger MBJ doesn't even really like his SQH yet and is also struggling with how good Older SQH looks: a little taller, broader, relaxed and easygoing, answering all of his questions and explaining important things to him, dressed like a beloved demon lord's spouse, efficiently ordering everyone around. "Call me Gege," Older Shang Qinghua said with a wink, and it went straight to Younger MBJ's defenseless heart; he is developing new kinks immediately. Help him.

In the end, after a few days at most, they manage to switch Older and Younger MBJ back without too much issue. Older SQH is a little annoyed that his husband kissed an alternate timeline version of himself, but mostly because he sure would have liked that experience when he was only a disciple! Okay, SQH may have pet Younger MBJ's head and pinched his cheeks and hugged him and brushed his hair a little and shamelessly lavished him with good examples of human affection, but it's not the same!!!

Younger MBJ and Younger SQH in the alternate timeline are left in SQH's tiny head disciple house, completely flustered, sitting next to each other and barely able to look at each other. What. The. Fuck. Eventually, Shang Qinghua manages to say, "Uh, do you want to make out?" at the same time that Mobei-Jun says, "We should get married as soon as possible. Tomorrow."

#tossawary svsss #moshang #fic ideas #mobei jun #shang qinghua #long post #moshang character time swap AU

[hallowxiu]

How the Brothers Would Deal with MC's Mortality

Mammon:

You casually brought it up as a joke

Probably something like “i’m here for a good time, not a long time” or “why should i care what happens in 100 years? It’s not like i’ll be around to care”

Would probably confuse Mammon at first as to why you wouldn’t be around, but he would put the pieces together in the middle of the night when trying to sleep.

A whole, eyes snapping wide opening and flinging out of his bed kind of moment.

Mammon would worry himself sick

Yes, he knows humans can die, hell, he used to mock you for being so frail when you first came to the Devildom, but now? 

Well, now things are different. How he feels about you is different

He's spending all his money on ways to keep you kicking longer. 

Anything he can think of that’ll help, he’s buying it. Vegetables, fruits, protein powder, comfortable clothes, a nice pillow, vitamins, shampoos- anything. He has no idea where to start, so he just starts grabbing everything. 

I mean, something will have to help, right? 

If you notice he looks panicked, don’t point it out, it’ll only make it worse. Unless you want to be smothered to death from his affection and worry, then by all means. ;)

Leviathan:

Look, he can barely handle his favorite anime characters dying, so you? Yeah, no, that’s way too much. 

Nothing actually popped up to remind Leviathan of your mortality, it was because of Satan throwing his books all around the house that did it. 

Suddenly, it was all he could think about. How did he not think of this before? 

Leviathan is no Satan though, and he’s certainly not Lucifer. Researching medical documents and trying to think of things to keep you alive longer are a little over his head. That being said, there were some things he could do.

Leviathan dove into his own research that would be within his realm of understanding, studying that humans who have more positive mindsets and who are less exposed to depressing forms of media, may live longer than the average person. This- this was something he could work with. 

Suddenly, you were constantly being invited to his room, Leviathan having a variety of slice-of-life anime for you to watch with him, all of which had happy endings to boot. If an anime was even remotely depressing, he made sure to keep that out of reach. 

Video games? He’s keeping it safe; he’s not risking anything here. If it’s not similar to Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, Dreamlight Valley, or The Sims (which must be on a good day), you’re just not playing it. Kingdom Hearts if you’re lucky. 

Satan:

Would do an insane amount of research 

Likely overheard the topic on a news segment about the tragically short lifespans of humans before it all clicked together.

Satan, unlike the other brothers, has never experienced death before, so while it sounds silly, he never had reason to think of you dying.

Looks up humans who had long lifespans to see how he can implement those things into your lifestyle.

Books will be littered everywhere (although that’s not really unusual, but what is would be the topic of said books- The Long Lives of Humans, Human Lifestyle for Dummies 101, The Road to Human Immortality, etc. etc.)

This is when Satan learns just how easy it is for a human to kick the bucket.

Heart attacks, brain aneurysms, strokes, seizures, cancer, the list goes on and on and it’s starting to scare him. He didn’t know humans could just drop dead. 

He’s going to start researching curses to increase your lifespan, or at the very least he’s going to make sure you’re careful as hell. 

You won’t even get as much as a cut without him being aware of it; he’s going to hover around and mother hen the absolute shit out of you. 

Try not to get too annoyed with him though, it all stems from good intentions. 

Asmodeus:

He’ll be damned if his shopping partner for life is going to die on him.

Asmo isn’t stupid; if anything he’s pretty emotionally aware. He's known for a long time just how short the lifespan of humans is.

But still, it came in the form of a nightmare. One where he couldn’t save you, despite giving his best efforts. The way you died was tragic, long before your life should have ended. 

This sent Asmo somewhat into a frenzied state trying to find things to keep you alive once he woke up. 

Vitamins, vitamins, vitamins

Humans benefit from vitamins, right? Surely you’d benefit from Devildom vitamins then. If it’ll increase the lifespan of a demon, he sees no reason why it wouldn’t increase your lifespan. 

Of course, it really only gives you nicer nails and shinier hair. 

He’s 10x more intense with your morning and night routines. 

He will be unloading all his facial creams on you, and telling you the benefits of each one and how it might add a few years to your lifespan. 

You want to stay up late at night to finish homework? Maybe watch a movie? Yeah, no, not on Asmo’s watch. 

Your ass is going to bed every night at 10pm, right along with him. You do realize you’ll be getting exactly 8 hours of sleep each night, too, right? 

Beelzebub:

Regarding his trauma with Lilith, it came as no surprise when he started to fret over your well-being. 

Poor Beel saw an article that discussed how tragically easy it is for a human to die. The cherry on top? How they could die from simply overeating. 

Overeating isn’t a concept Beel is overly familiar with (because to him, it’s never overeating), and while he knew most people couldn’t keep up with his eating habits, he didn’t think it could actually cause harm to a human, let alone kill them. 

Grocery trips are now a more anxiety-inducing event. 

He’s suddenly paranoid that any of the Devildom food could and will kill you. Are you allergic to anything? How would you even know? 

What if one day he serves you his favorite boiled dragonhead and you just drop dead at the dinner table?? No, that will never do. 

There’s a list of Devildom foods that he knows for sure you can have without dying, but then comes the issue of portion control. How much is too much for a human? 

Beelzebub swore he would never lose another loved one again, and it’s a promise he intends to keep. From now on, you will only eat what he deems safe. 

You want to try a new food in the Devildom that you’ve never had before? You better get some seriously good convincing skills if you want him to cave in. For someone who only ever thinks with his stomach, he’s surprisingly stubborn. 

Belphegor:

He’s still plagued with nightmares about Lilith, especially since he still thinks it’s his fault. Tack that on to the way he blamed you and the rest of the human race for it? The man is walking trauma. 

 Like Asmodeus, this was brought on by nightmares about you dying. Different from Asmo’s, however, you usually died by his hand. Naturally, considering your tumultuous history. 

Belphegor, unlike his brothers, takes a different approach. He just doesn’t approach you at all. 

What better way to keep your lifespan long than by staying away from you altogether? 

Is it something that he wants? Of course not! But how can he trust himself to never hurt you again? To never kill you again. 

He can’t. 

So, he locks himself away in his room, sleeping most of the day or just avoiding the areas you normally like to lounge. 

On a normal day, almost everyone in the household, including yourself, would notice this behavior change. However, since you’re now being cornered by all the brothers and their concerns about your lifespan, it’s easy for Belphegor’s absence to slip your mind. 

This hurts Belphegor, but at the end of the day, he believes this is for the best.

Lucifer: 

Lucifer didn’t need a reminder of your short lifespan; if anything, it’s something he’s thought plenty about. 

Lucifer has trauma, we all know that much. After Lilith, he’s absolutely terrified of losing another loved one to something outside of his control.

And your lifespan is not something that’s out of his control. At least not how he sees it, anyway. 

If you thought he was overbearing or overprotective before, brace yourself. He’s going to step it up several notches. 

No excess of junk food, no more pulling all-nighters, no more sitting around the house gaming all day, and definitely no more overexerting your use of magic. He’s no fool, he knows the toll your magic could eventually take on your body. 

Honestly? He wasn’t this bad until his brothers started to panic about your mortality, and though Lucifer told himself he was above such nonsense, he quickly found himself taking all the precautions they were taking (and then some). 

Fortunately, if you find yourself becoming overwhelmed, they’ll be more than willing to listen to you (granted you take some of their concerns into account).

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #nightbringer #shall we date #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #levi #satan #asmodeus #asmo #beelzebub #beel #belphegor #belphie #drabbles #obey me headcanons #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie

[luveline]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly

༺༻

The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate. 

You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in. 

You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out. 

"Hotchner." 

"Hi, handsome," you say softly. 

There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?

"Hi, honey." 

You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth. 

"What do you need?" he asks. 

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 

"You're outside." 

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 

"Yeah, please. If you want to." 

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 

"Bye." 

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 

Maybe you should. 

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 

"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say. 

"You sure?" 

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 

"Slow down," he chides gently. 

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 

He gives you a short, hard kiss. 

"Hotchner." 

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 

"You're not telling me something." 

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 

"I think that's obvious." 

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 

It's you. 

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 

You're not sure anymore. 

"Yeah," you say roughly. 

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 

But what? 

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 

Phase two, your clothes. 

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 

"I know," he says. 

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 

"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 

"What makes you think I don't?" 

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 

"Hi," you say, unsure. 

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 

You startle. "No, of course not." 

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 

"No." You smile as you say it. 

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 

"You didn't even try." 

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 

"Don't make fun," you beg. 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 

"Oh, don't." 

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 

"I did miss you," you relent. 

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 

"I'll do it in the morning." 

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something." 

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"You know I care about you." 

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 

"Do you know how much?" he asks. 

"Is that a trick?" 

"No." 

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 

"Yeah, I know how much." 

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 

"I'm not," you say quickly. 

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 

"That's not going to work." 

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 

"Sweetheart." 

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 

"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 

Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 

Your lips buzz. 

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

— 

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 

She steps into your path. 

"Sorry," you say again. 

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 

"He really doesn't talk about me?" 

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me. 

You pretend to check your watch. 

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 

You're beautiful. 

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 

"Hi, honey." 

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 

"Are you sure?" 

"...Are you okay?" 

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 

"What's wrong with your clothes?" 

"You tell me, detective." 

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 

You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 

"No. I don't wanna see you." 

"Honey-" 

"Leave me alone, Aaron." 

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 

It's him. Shocker. 

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad." 

"What else?" 

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 

"I met Emily Prentiss." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 

"Yes." 

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 

"Yeah, honey." 

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 

"Then why?" 

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 

"How long have you felt like this?" 

"Like what?" you ask wetly. 

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 

"I don't know." 

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 

"They know about the lunches?" 

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. Can we go home?" 

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 

You watch him drive. 

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 

—

+1 

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 

You can't believe you're here. 

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 

All eyes on me. 

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 

"Don't punish me." 

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 

"What part is that, Agent?" 

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 

༺༻

my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #if this feels ooc thats not my fault (it is) i tried very hard (some effort was made) and he's really hard to write (he's fit)

[capellla]

Who is your future spouse? - Pac reading

In this reading you are going to see who is your future spouse . Choose the one you feel attracted to.

Pick an Image

1

This is a person who is free of most of his karma and has probably learned many of the lessons he should have learned from his previous relationships. I sense that he/she lives further away from you. Not another country but another city. Even though you have some small differences in physical matters, you are the same spiritually. This person approaches life very calmly and comfortably. He must be a very mature and wise person because his energy is quite stable. I can't say that they are in a very good position materially, it's more average, but you will definitely have a peaceful life with this person. Because your love and affection will be deep. There will be many peaceful nights where you sleep hugging each other and you will understand each other deeply. His/her energy will calm you down even when you disagree. I feel like this person is calling you right at the moment you read this. The only thing missing in his life right now is you, and he's worried he won't find you. This person is not an introvert, but he is not someone who is noisy and has a large circle of friends. Although he is mature, he is not old. If you are in your twenties or younger, they will be in late twenties. If you're in your thirties, they will be in thirties. This person likes to read about different subjects, for some especially science. This person will be very warm and a very good parent. You should feel his/her energy, he/she is so reliable and soothing. He will always talk about you to his circle of friends and will remain loyal to you. I think this person used to be a flirtatious and had a lot of relationships, but over time he/she matured and is not the same anymore. His family either lives far away from him or he lost them because I can't feel their energy much. They have deep connection with this subjects in its either touchy for them either they dont care about it at all. This person may live by the sea, or they have a sea-like energy and are very attractive. It is impossible not to be impressed by him when you meet him. He also has a characteristic face like a movie character.

2

This person is unlike image 1 has very unstable energy. He/she has a lot of karma and scars, but don't let that scare you. It also has a dreamy side. It's very impressive and it will be impossible for you to escape it. This person's life is upside down, but when you enter his life, everything will change. Don't think that everything will suddenly become better, but this person will make the decision to correct himself and get in order as a result. There will be many moments when you won't get along with this person and you will want to give up, but truly giving up will never even cross your mind. You will love each other in all poverty and difficulty. Your wounds will make each other bleed and there will be moments when you hurt each other. This person needs to wake up and realize something. At least to make this relationship work or there will be a lot of heartbreak. This person has one or two friends whom he trusts very much. He may be indifferent about his family. Either his parents are divorced or they don't have very good relationships. He is in a good position regarding his job. For some of you she/he might be goth or dress like we see on pinterest. He is quite quarrelsome and sharp-tongued. But he's very protective when it comes to you. This person may not get along with your family immediately, but they will warm up to each other over time. If they are masculine they have muscular body. If they are feminine they have petite body. You will visit many different natural places with this person. I see many parks and greens. You will experience many passionate moments. They will blow your mind. And no matter what, you will keep your love and relationship alive.

3

This person is very hardworking and has a good position. For some of you, I might even call him/her rich, with a pretty good income. This person is passionate and does not give up easily. He won't give up on you easily either. But I think it will be mostly you chasing this person. He has too many suitors. This person will give you a lot of gifts, and their love language may be giving gifts. He will constantly surprise you with surprises. You will have so many photos and memories with this person. I'm getting an 1850s vibe from this person. This person will be reliable and have a lot of friends. I see you going to many parties with him. I see that you will have a child as soon as you meet this person. Your relationship will progress very quickly. This person will be exactly what your family is looking for and they will get along well. This person will also help you in your career. He has a very bright personality. He may be writing as a hobby. He is very well-read and cultured. He also has a childish side. It will make you laugh so hard. I see 777 while writing this. Maybe this is a sign you will often see before meeting this person. This person definitely has a good sense of humor. This person has a careless side towards hatreds and jealousy. Maybe you may have different perspectives in terms of politics and worldview. But if you work at it, it won't be a bad thing. Maybe one of you will even change the other's mind over time and both of you will passionately defend the same idea. This person will take you to museums, libraries and historical places. And of course to vacation. Wherever you want. You will not have any problems with money.

4

This person has a childlike personality. Just like the little prince. It is curious and has its own charm. He/she will be thinking and questioning things that you cannot understand. Someone who looks at the world from a very different perspective. Stubborn and creative, also determined and not giving up easily. It may take time for you to understand his world, but he is quite open about it. He will look at you like you are a princess or prince. I see her combing your hair and making you a cake. It is very joyful and will make you experience emotions you have never experienced. It's like you'll step into a very different world. You will feel very lucky to have met someone like him. This person may have difficulty being understood by the people around him. But you will be his best friend and probably his first love. This person has a strong soul underneath his childish side. He can do whatever it takes for you and for anything he truly loves. They will be loyal to you for life and you will take care of each other when necessary. He will teach you to trust the universe and its timing. Also he is very lucky and blessed. You will chat with him all night long and you will never get bored of each other. There will be an emotional side to him and you will be a shoulder to him whenever he cries and vice versa. I'm not sure if he want to bring a child into this world, but this will not be a difficult issue.

5

This person will be like a mentor, I see him/her giving good advice to many people around him and helping many people in difficult times. This person will teach you a lot about life. He is a mature, intelligent, experienced person. It's possible he's bigger than you. But still, I don't sense much age difference, you will be equal in many respects. This person may be teaching as a career, because besides the mentor I got another card called teacher, he may also be interested in art. He will give you many remedies in your difficult days. I see hot chocolate and tea. He will do many sweet little thoughtful things to make you feel safe and good. I also find this person to be very well-groomed and attractive. Just because it's mature doesn't mean it looks mature. This person is not childish, but he does not look old either. He's quite charming. He may have a flirtatious side. He will help you in many matters, especially in the future, he will teach your children a lot of things (if you want children) and he will be a very good parent. Sometimes there can be a confused aspect and your children may feel misunderstood. But this is a sweet side of him and you will balance that side. He has a surprising but also careful quality. His perspective on life, especially his perspective on art, is unique. He may also be interested in philosophy. He will also have a humorous side. He will be pure and clean like a child. I see that he will be serious most of the time, but you will see this playful side of him, not often, but at unexpected moments. This person may also be a musician or write more lyrics for some of you. He will also write you letters sometimes at special times. While feeling his energy, I suddenly had the desire to write a romantic article. I sense that he will be romantic and careful, especially in bed.This person's love language will most likely be giving gifts. I think that the earth and air elements will be dominant in this person. Most of the time he will communicate with you to understand you better because he is not someone who is very close with his emotions.

6

This person has had a lot of toxic habits and a difficult past, but by the time you meet them they have overcome it all and will be a completely different person. He/she is the warmest person you will ever meet. He is such a sweet soul. And there's something exciting about it, too. You will feel like a little child next to him. He will always tell you interesting stories. You will make many jokes together and entertain people. He has average looks but he will be the best looking person in the world for you. John Legend - All of Me is playing in my head. You can listen to that song for more clues. He will make you feel very special and will take very good care of you. You will fall in love with him so much. He is a very special person and always understanding and kind. He won't be able to raise his voice at you even when he's angry. He may act a little shy and funny when he first meets your family. You will have many children with this person. Even if you think you don't want it, be ready because you will want to have a child with this person. He will make you experience something in a relationship that you have never experienced after all your poor relationships. He has an extroverted personality and is not shy usually when people. But can have a clumsy side that will make you laugh a lot.

#tarot #tarot community #tarot reading #tarotblr #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot love reading #future spouse #love reading #tarot related #tarot cards #pick one #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick an image #tarot reader #prediction #tarot pac readings #tarot pac #pac tarot

[estinininininen]

Vrtra really said "Even here have we heard of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn" like he wasn't having Thavnair intelligence scooping up every detail of anything and everything to do with Louisoix Leveilleur the second he heard Bahamut hatched and was ready to glass Eorzea and Some? Mortal??? from Sharlayan managed to almost tank the blow

Ahewann, sprinting out of the meghaduta into the town square: I Need The Sharlayan Ambassador Right The Fuck Now

Five, six years later and the intel squads say the Scions have imploded, except whoops no they haven't they've snuck out of the regicide accusations into Ishgard and have disappeared into Dravania trying to end the Dragonsong War? pffff yeah good luck with that Nidhogg's been filling up my inbox for a thou- WAIT WHAT? WHO?? AND THE LEVEILLEUR GRANDSON???

Ahewann, sprinting straight to the Ishgardian consulate without stopping: Hey Uh Can You Tell Me What, and please understand this is very important, The Fuck

Then for a short bit family matters quiet down, again, maybe. Estinien "Not Not Nidhogg" Wyrmblood passes through Thavnair but moves on to Othard pretty quickly. Ahewann gratefully takes off his running shoes and Vrtra peels himself off the ceiling like a scared cat from worrying which would be worse to meet, Estinien or Nidhogg. Midgardsormr dies again but that's less of a big deal than it should be, he'll sleep it off. Tiamat is suddenly flying again for the first time in five millenia so that's . . . good, the world is ending but that's good at least. Estinien Wyrmblood may or may not have joined the Scions, no one can get a solid confirmation. Anyway he's got to get these scales to the alchemists, the Baldesion reps are coming soon, he can't focus on his own family drama right now-

He looks up and standing before him is an Archon astrologian in a bathrobe, another Archon nerd cosplaying as a gunbreaker, two Archons oh this must be the Baldesion group, [INSERT INSANE PLAYER CHARACTER APPEARANCE], well they look . . . interesting, are they imitating the Warrior of Light? and an Ishgardian dra -

Vrtra, malms away in the meghaduta: A

Vrtra: Ahewann

Vrtra: Ahewann we've got a Code Leveilleur situation here

Ahewann: What?

Vrtra: THE SCIONS ARE HERE

Vrtra: ESTINIEN WYRMBLOOD IS H E R E

Vrtra: GET YOUR SHOES ON AHEWANN HOW DID WE MISS THIS

Ahewann, spilling curry down his front, bursting out of the throne room with laces untied: Hey Everybody Come Help Me Throttle The Spymaster

#ahewann #estinien #vrtra #louisoix leveilleur #scions of the seventh dawn #estinien wyrmblood #the first brood #estinien varlineau #ffxiv endwalker

[fallingdownhell]

Of broken promises..

Genshin Men, completely forgetting about your birthday

Characters included: Xiao, Cyno and Childe

Summary: Your special day was just around the corner. You were very ecxited about it, since your boyfriend told you he had something very special planned for you. But things turned out different than you had expected..

Content (Warnings): Angst; Hurt/no comfort; established relationship; characters may be slightly ooc; misunderstandings; gender neutral reader; not proof read yet

Read Part 2 here

Word Count: 4.2k

I was in the mood for some angst, so now here I am, writing this and taking you all with me. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to drama and hurt, but I find it easier to write than fluff and other stuff. As always, feel free to point out any mistakes I may have made, I very much appreciate it!

Well then, I hope you enjoy reading this little piece I brought you all!

Xiao

Your relationship with Xiao was still very much in the beginning stages. It was all tender touches and soft words, as to not scare your boyfriend away from all these new emotions and situations that he was experiencing. You didn’t mind it though. You went into this relationship, knowing that you would have to take things very slow with him. Probably slower than you ever had, but in your eyes, it was a good thing.

It gave you both the opportunity to really get to know each other, not just on a superficial level. Your first kiss happened three months into the relationship and it was also at this point, that Xiao acknowleged his feelings for you though it was still difficult for him to initiate any sort of affection. He didn’t flinch away from you anymore though when you tried to cuddle or hug him, so in your book, that was a huge success already. 

Cue now, a few more months into the relationship, almost going for a year now, and your birthday was just around the corner. Xiao knew about it, how the mortals celebrated the day of ones birth every year, though he never thought anything of it. But since it was important to you, he not only made the effort to remember the date, but also plan something for you, so you could really enjoy that day. 

He did need to get some help though, since he had absolutely no idea what would be an appropriate thing to do and what wouldn’t be. Don’t mention it to him afterwards though, or he might get moody with you again. 

You were currently getting ready for your big day. Xiao refused to tell you, what you were going to do. He didn’t even give you a hint. The only thing he told you to do, was to dress up a little bit, which you gladly took the opportunity to do, since you don’t usually get the chance to do that very often. 

After one last look in the mirror once you were done, you went to sit down at your table, feeling giddy and excited. Hundreds of thoughts running through your mind at once, trying to figure out what his plans for today were. As you waited for Xiao to pick you up, like he told you he would do, you noticed that quite some time already went by. He should have been here half an hour ago...

Normally, you wouldn’t think much of it, everyone could be late sometimes. But this was Xiao. He was never late for anything, so of course you began to worry as you noticed this. 

“Xiao?”, you called his name and waited for a few seconds, hoping that he just had the wrong time remembered. But nothing happened. Your boyfriend didn’t magically appear right in front of you like he usually did when you spoke his name. 

Your gut feeling told you that something wasn’t right. But you swallowed that feeling right down, trying to calm yourself down by reasoning. 

‘Maybe he is just getting ready himself, no need to worry.’

‘Surely he is just finishing up some last preparations.’

You tried to find every possible reason for why he could be late and not appear at your call, but as you tried again and again to call his name, he still didn’t show up. Your heart began to feel heavy as worry settled deep within you. Something really must have gone wrong. 

You pondered for a long time, trying to figure out what you could do now. But after some time with no real success, you just couldn’t take it anymore. Without wasting another second, you grabbed a few important things and then went straight to Wangshuu Inn, hoping to find him there. Praying, that everything was okay.

 It took you some time to get there, but once you arrived, you wasted no time, going straight to the balcony your adeptus boyfriend usually kept for himself. 

“Xiao!”, you called again once you arrived, but still, nothing happened. You looked around, trying to see if you could spot him anywhere near, again, without success. Desperation settled into you, as you went downstairs, to where the Innkeeper was located. 

“Excuse me, Verr... have you seen Xiao today?”

“Xiao?”, she repeated, then thinking to herself for a few seconds. “No, I’m sorry. Last time I saw him was yesterday morning. He said he had something to take care of.”

“Oh, I see.... thank you.”, you murmured, not sure how you were supposed to feel or react to these news.

You wrecked your brain, trying to think if he had mentioned something the days prior. But if he did, you didn't remember it. Verr looked at you with something close to pity in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again just as quickly, obviously changing her mind about it. Sad and defeated, you made your way back to your house at Liyue Harbour, not sure what you were supposed to do now.

Should you search for your boyfriend? After all, he could be hurt out there somewhere. Then again, you had not even the faintest of idea where to begin with your search. Then, should you just wait here for him to return? But it was still Xiao you were talking about here. He could be gone for anytime between an hour and an entire week. Or, and you absolutely didn’t like that thought at all... he could never return. 

What if something bad happened to him while on this mission he never told you about? Was that the reason why he never said anything to you? Because he knew that he wouldn’t make it back? But that would be ridiculous. He wouldn’t have made so many plans with you and talked so much about your shared future with you if he knew he wouldn’t live to see it. 

All of these thoughts that came crashing in your mind, you just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You forgot all about your stupid birthday, you just wished to have your partner right here next to you again, safe and sound. 

That night, you cried yourself to sleep, praying to all the Archons out there, that he would come back to you in one piece. That Xiao would be fine. It was all you would ever wish for. 

...

The next day you woke up to a cold bed. A clear indicator that he hadn’t returned in the middle of the night and spent it next to you. And also a harsh slap in the face with the cold reality. You struggled to get yourself out of bed or to get yourself ready, but you managed. Once you were done, you thought about your options, what you could do. 

You decided that your best course of action for now would be to go to Wangshuu Inn again today. Just to be on the safe side and see for yourself if he returned. So, you did just that, setting out again while sending a small little prayer to the Archons again. 

The walk to the Inn seemed longer this time around then it did yesterday. Maybe because you weren’t in such a rush to get there as you were yesterday. You were still defeated once you arrived, slowly walking up the stairs and pass Verr again, who only looked at you with a knowing gaze and tried to give you a reassuring smile. You found it hard to respond, so you just avoided her gaze and made your way up to the balcony again. 

To your surprise, you saw Xiao standing by the handrail, his gaze fixed at something in the distance, but you were sure that he noticed the presence of someone coming up the stairs. Still, you were in shock how casual he was just standing there.

“Xiao?”, you spoke, and the shock was clearly heard in your voice. Your boyfriend turned around and looked at you, while you were also frozen in place a few steps away from him. 

“What?”, was the cold reply you got, which only threw you off even more. Why was he being this way to you? Shaking that thought out of your head again, you quickly walked up to him.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I was worried about you! Where were you?”

“Why were you worried? You know of my duty to protect Liyue. I have been away for longer than one single day. And as far as I know, we weren’t supposed to meet up.”

You were taken aback, staring at him as if you were asking him with your eyes to please tell you that he was only joking. But that was the problem.. Xiao never joked, about anything.

“But.. we were. Yesterday was-”

“Y/N, please, leave it for now. I am not in the mood today.”

“But Xiao, yesterday-”

“I said, leave it. I had something important to do yesterday. Something more important than whatever silly little thing you have come up with to bother me! I’m not in the mood for your antics today, so just don’t bother. Leave me alone.”

You took a step back as you heard his harsh words. For a second, you thought you saw something like guilt shine in his eyes, but it was quickly washed away by the cold expression he now wore. 

You were hurt. He had never said anything like that to you, you weren’t sure how to react. So you did the only thing you could think of.

Without another word or glance at him, you turned around and granted him his wish. His wish for you to leave him alone. 

________________

Cyno 

Cyno had many responsibilites as the General Mahamatra. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be gone for a whole week - sometimes even longer - for a mission. He could never tell you much about his work or current mission, until it was over, as to not endanger you or himself. But once the deed was done, he told you all about it, about everything that he experienced. 

When he was gone for so long, the first thing he would always do was to find you, trap you in his arms and cuddle with you for hours on end. Not many people would think this of him, but Cyno was a very affectionate lover. He thrieved on physical contact, no matter if it was just holding your hand of if he could hold you in his arms. 

To him, you were the most important thing in his life, second to nothing else. Sometimes, he resented his position as General Mahamatra, especially if it was preventing him from spending time with you for an extended period of time. But it was also his calling, he felt.This position was so important to him, and you knew that as well. You learned to deal with it, and Cyno was so grateful for it.

He didn’t know many people who could put up with a busy partner as himself for such a long time, but you two managed. That’s why, as a way to show his gratitude towards you, he put so much effort into your relationship. He was never late for anything, be it a date or just something trivial. He made an effort to remember every important date, be it for anniversaries or a birthday date. In all of your years with Cyno, although you did have your ups and downs, it was overall the best relationship you ever had. 

And that is exaclty why the current situation hurt you so much. 

...

You were having dinner with your boyfriend, already feeling a little giddy as your birthday was just a week away and you were excited to see what Cyno had in store for you this year. 

Except, it came entirely different.

“I have to leave for a mission tomorrow. It’s a very important one, so expect me to be gone for about two weeks.”

You froze when you heard those words. Surely, you must have misunderstood. 

“What?”, you said, not really being able to process this new information. And it didn’t help that Cyno simply repeated what he had said. 

Was he making a joke again? That had to be it. Surely, he would never forget about it. 

“You’re.. leaving? But, what about-”

“Y/N, please. It’s a very important mission. I can’t just let anyone handle this. It has to be me. You have to understand.”

So, he really wasn’t joking. You just looked at him, while he continued eating like nothing has happened, completely unbothered. Suddenly, you were not feeling hungry at all, so you just got up and left the table.

“Darling?”, Cyno called after you as you went in the living room, not sure what else to do with yourself at the moment. Cyno continued to look after you, trying to figure out what could be wrong with you. He wrecked his brain but when he couldn’t come up with a solution, he just shrugged it off and continued with his meal. He would deal with it once he was done eating. 

Meanwhile, you were sitting on the couch, deep in your thoughts. You were trying to come up with a solution, a scenario in which Cyno could still spend your birthday with you. You didn’t want to spend it without him, you have never done that since you got in this relationship with him and you definitely didn’t want to start with it now. 

You had no idea how much time had went by when you suddenly felt the arms of your lover wrap around you as he sat down next to you. 

“What’s wrong, my dear?”, he asked, his crimson eyes fixed on you. 

“Just... thinking.”, you said, as you were not able to come up with an idea until now. 

“Thinking about what? Tell me, maybe I can help.” That did sound like a good idea, so you obliged. 

“It’s about that mission of yours. I was just thinking-”

“Y/N”, Cyno let out with a long, frustrated sounding sigh. “There’s nothing I can do about it. Can’t we just forget about it for now and just cuddle a bit. You know I’m gonna miss you.”

“So you can just go and disappear in the morning before I’m even awake? No Cyno, I wanna talk about it now. Because you’re forgetting something important.”

“I am not forgetting anything. Right now, the only important thing is this mission. I can’t tell you about it, but just know I have to be the one to take it.”

You were getting frustrated as well. He was just not giving you a chance to explain yourself. 

“That’s not what I mean, Cyno. I know YOU want to take that mission, and that’s fine. But there is something else you should remember. What I’m trying to tell you is-”

“Listen, I don’t wanna argue right now. If you can’t handle this, maybe it was a mistake to get in this relationship with you.”

You froze when he said that, staring at him, unmoving. Was that really how he felt? Like all this was a mistake? That YOU were a mistake? 

Cyno waited for a response from you for a few seconds, but when nothing came, he sighed and stood up, collecting a few neccessities he would need on this trip. 

When he passed the living room again, he saw you still standing there. “I changed my mind. I’m leaving today. Maybe the time apart will help the both of us to figure something out and reflect on us.” 

With that said, he went for the door and you heard it fall into place again once he had already left.

So that was it? He just left, basically telling you that your relationship might be ending when he returned? And that was when the dam in you broke and tears started to stream down your face. You broke down were you were standing, clutching your chest in hope to ease the burning pain you were feeling inside but of course, it didn’t help. 

What a way to spend your upcoming birthday.. anticipating the end of your relationship with the man of your dreams..

__________________________

Childe (Ajax)

Being in a relationship with a harbinger was simultaneously  the best and worst decision in your life. 

Childe was a very sweet and caring lover, although sometimes slightly overprotective. You’ve spoken to him about it many times, but after only a week or so, he completely forgot about it again and went back to his old ways of guarding you like a hawk. 

People in Shneznahya knew about you and your relationship to one of their harbingers, so you were almost as feared as Childe himself, as people were afraid you would talk ill of them to him, which would then result in harm for them. 

They didn’t know they had nothing to fear. You were one of the kindest and caring humans that Childe has ever met. It was one of the many reasons why he fell in love with you in the first place. 

After he joined the harbingers, he became a frequent visitor in the infirmary, even more so than before. Somehow it was always you who had to take care of him when he was injured again. Most of the time, while you were treating him, Childe was talking about random stuff, throwing in a flirtly remark here and there, but you never paid much mind to it.

Until one day when he showed up there, no injury in sight, so you asked him what he wanted here. And he just asked you on a date. 

That was over two years ago and you have been in a relationship with him ever since. Childe was loyal to you, and you trusted him in that, even if he had to travel to many different regions all across Teyvat. He couldn’t always take you with him and the time you two had to spend apart from each other proved to be difficult for both of you. 

You also learned very soon that Childe was totally a family person. He took you to meet his parents fairly early on, but you really hit it off with them, getting along quite well with them, and his siblings followed soon. You fell in love with them, and Childe just love seeing you interact with his family. It made him want to get a family of his own with you as soon as possible. 

But, no matter how good the relationship was going, there were also always going to be problems along the way. His work was a huge factor, yes, but another huge part of the problem was Childe’s confrontational behaviour. He liked to cause fights, not only physical ones with his enemies, but also with you. 

His personality and pride demanded of him to win in every argument you two had, even when he would be in the wrong. Apologizing had never been a strong suit for the ginger, and you knew that. But sometimes, that was all you wanted. For him to seriously apologize and make you his number one priority form time to time. 

Because you never were. You knew that Childe loved you with all his heart, he told you that almost every single day. And still, you were only ever his second choice. Because his work would always stay his number one priority. 

No matter what it was or how bad the timing would be, if he had another mission, he would already be out the door, barely giving you a kiss to the cheek before he was gone. Sometimes, it was hard. Having to stay behind, not knowing if he would return to you in one piece again. 

He promised you to be careful and that he would always return to you, but there was still a chance. A chance that something wouldn’t go as planned and fate would take him from you. In that times of not knowing, you didn’t care how difficult your relationship was if it meant that he was alive and well in your arms. 

...

It had been a very stressful week, work has been demanding much from you, both mentally and physically. You were glad when you got home that evening, looking forward to the few days you were able to spend with your boyfriend again. 

As if he sensed that you would be done this evening, you found him in the kitchen, preparing a meal for you both.

“Ajax? You, cooking? What’s the occaision?”, you asked, clearly surprised since he rarely cooked, ever. 

At that, he just laughed. “What, can’t I spoil my beautiful lover from time to time?”, he asked, giving you a smirk. “Sit down, I’m almost done.”

You did as you’re told, not questioning him any further. You just assumed that it would be a taste for your birthday tomorrow. You haven’t planned much that day, since you never really celebrated your birthday. You would just have lunch with his family at their place and then spend the rest of the day together, doing whatever came to your mind. Maybe his spoiling you today was in preparation for your day tomorrow. 

The meal was actually very good, which surprised you, since you only got to taste Childe’s cooking once before today, and that wasn’t exactly his best creation. Your boyfriend seemed to be proud of it himself. 

Afterwards, you did the dishes together, before you both went to get ready for bed. Like every night, once you got into bed, he pulled you close to his chest and whispered a sweet “I love you” in your ear, before you both drifted of to sleep. 

...

The next morning, you woke up alone in bed. Patting your hand on his side of the bed, you found that it was still somewhat warm, meaning that he got up not too long ago himself. 

You managed to get yourself out of bed, before searching for your boyfriend. You find him sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. 

He noticed you coming up behind him, so he turned to you and smiled up at you. “Good morning, sunshine. Did you sleep well?” 

You nodded as you went and made yourself your own cup to get your day started properly. You both set in a comfortable silence as you each drank your own drink. Only when you awoke more and more did you notice something strange... normally, Childe would have already showered you in congratulations and presented you with at least a gift or two, but nothing. 

Yet, you chose to not say anything just yet. Maybe he had something planned and would do that later in the day. 

Once done with your coffee, you got up and went to the bathroom to get yourself ready for lunch with his family. You usually got in the bath first, since you took longer than him, Childe would almost always be done within ten minutes or so. 

When it was his turn to get ready, you were waiting for him in the living room, when a knock on the door startled you. You were not expecting any visitors today, but you still went and answered the door. 

“Greetings. Would the Lord Harbinger happen to be available?”, was the first thing to greet you once you opened the door. Perplexed, you just nodded and went to turn around, but Childe was already coming down the stairs towards you.

“Babe, everything alright?”

“Yeah.. there is someone for you at the door..”, you said. Not wanting to pry, you went to the kitchen, but you weren’t really able to sit down as just a few seconds later, the door closed again and Childe came in the room. 

“I’m sorry babe. An urgent mission. I have to go right now.”

“What? But what about lunch? Your family is waiting for us. And-”

“It’s just a meal with my family. It’s not that big of a deal if we miss it this one time. I’m sure they would understand.”

You were shocked as you heard this. Did he really forget? That today was your birthday? Sure, you never really liked to make a huge deal about it, but at the very least you wanted people to remember it. Was that too much to ask for?

Too caught up in your feelings, you didn’t care how you sounded when you said that to him. “Fine. Go do whatever it is you have to do then, since it’s so much more important. But I’ll go and meet your family since they’re waiting for us.”

With that, you stormed past him, grabbed your coat and went out the door. Childe just stood there, utterly confused on why you were so upset about this. It was just a simple lunch, nothing too exciting about it. 

So, he just shrugged it off and went to collect his coat. Then, he made his way to the palace of the Tsaritsa, where he would get the details to his next mission, while his mind was still racing, trying to figure out what went through your head... but he just couldn’t come up with anything. 

Couldn’t be something too important if he forgot about it...

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin angst #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao angst #cyno x reader #cyno x you #cyno angst #childe x reader #childe x you #childe angst

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

can we get soft angst hcs of caine comforting a reader who entered the circus but found solace in escaping their old life?

Dang it didn't take long for the requests to come in haha, but yessss I'm eager to write for TADC now!! (just note my hcs/interpretations of the characters will change as more episodes come out).

.......

When you first arrived to the circus not long after Pomni, Caine was worried that you were going to freak out over trying to find an exit (that definitely does NOT exist).

So he just cuts to the chase and states you're stuck here forever. There's no exit doors or hidden portals or secret keys, so you can just give up on returning to your old life altogether.

But you don't look scared in the slightest.

Confused? Yes. Certainly.

However once you've taken in all this information, you just stand there with a smile and a relaxed posture--a display that concerns Caine a lot.

"They seem happy, boss.." Bubble whispers. "Is that a good sign?"

"Not sure. Never seen anybody react this way. Maybe they're just holding it all in and pretending to be fine when they're really no--WOAH, stop the presses!!!" His eyes bulge out of his head/mouth(?) as he sees the tears running down your cheeks. "You're crying more than Gangle does on Tuesday! Is it true that you were masking your emotions????"

"..huh? What..oh no!" You laugh and wipe away the tears, before explaining to the ringmaster that you were indeed very happy.

You spoke of how sad and dull your life was outside of this game.

It was your escape, a comfort, and you've been a huge supporter of its development over the years.

Even in your sleep, you never stopped thinking about it--you always had dreams of being in this very circus, having loads of fun with the other characters and joining their wacky adventures.

So to learn that (somehow) you became a permanent part of the game is literally a dream come true!

Of course, you weren't expecting the presence of the Abstracted and Pomni's constant freakouts, but you couldn't be happier.

Caine was surprised that you remembered so much of your old life (whereas poor Pomni couldn't even recall her own name).

But he sees you're content with starting a new life here in the Digital Circus and grins, eager to plan some exciting fun and games for you to enjoy.

He will, however, make a point to pair you with Pomni so you could help her calm down and show her that being in this virtual world wasn't so bad.

It's probably not the best idea, though, as nothing you say comforts her.

"I mean, your old life could've been really bad and-"

"But what if it was good? What if I had tons of friends and a great family and a successful job and.....oh god..what if I had PETS?!!!" She wails. "Who's gonna take care of them?!!!"

Had she remembered at least one little bad detail from her old life....persuasion would come a lot easier.

But Caine encourages you to keep trying anyways.

#clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc caine #tadc caine x reader #caine x reader #platonic #angst #headcanons