#when she finds him for a split second she has to think he’s dead

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

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#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines

[nerdpoe]

Danny and Dani and Dan get Alfreded in three fell swoops

So like, sad time, but Alfred dies while Bruce is doing his world tour. He never survived long enough to see Bruce become Batman. Died alone in the Manor, after a particularly nasty fall and a broken neck.

But that was unacceptable.

Master Bruce, insufferable boy, could not lose another paternal figure in his life. Also the Manor was still a mess, and Bruce would need someone to make sure he didn't accidentally poison himself.

So he hid his corpse on the Manor grounds, and got to work.

And he was so glad he stayed; sure, it had taken a bit to stop glowing, but really the floating thing was amazingly helpful in reaching the chandelier, and after Master Bruce had returned he had gotten so many grandchildren.

Fast forward; Danny defeated Pariah Dark, he is Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms, Dan is attempting reformation and is technically a Prince by relation, and Dani is attempting to be Dan's parole officer and is definitely a Princess 100% she never forgets that no sir.

And Danny gets approached by some of the Observants, and they tell him that there is a very powerful ghost in Gotham, one that fully and completely blends in with humans and really needs to come to the Infinite Realms to complete his paperwork. But whenever they show up, this ghost thinks that they're there to force him to stay in the Infinite Realms.

And he kicks their asses.

Brutally.

For a bit he had a tiny kid ghost with him kicking their asses as well, but the kid randomly disappeared one day.

The Observants very clearly outline that this ghost is not Gotham herself, although the tax-evading criminal has been seen having tea with her.

Danny has no desire to deal with this; he just graduated high school and needs to focus on what college he's going to choose, so if Dan or Dani want to throw hands with some weird Gotham Ghost then by all means. Fuck taxes anyways, what did the Zone even take for taxation, what-?

So Danny splits his time college hunting and trying to find out how tax laws work in the Ghost Zone.

Dani goes to the old man first, and Alfred promptly sits her down and gives her cookies and hot chocolate, treats her like the kid she's never been treated like between Vlad and all of the Zone focusing on the Princess thing, and she feels at home for the second time in her half-life.

Dani gets a call from a nervous Observant, and promptly tells him she isn't going back either so nyah.

Dan goes to pick her up, and Alfred asks him if he is quite alright, he looks rather tense, and that if it is a fight he wants then the Justice League could probably use a new member, after all Alfred knows an upstanding young man when he sees one, and clearly Dan just needs a chance to prove to himself that he can be good.

Just like another young man Alfred knows.

Dan gets a call from a nervous Observant, and tells them that he's a little busy stopping an alien invasion, and is a tentative member of the Justice League now so he doesn't have time for their bullshit.

Also fuck taxes.

Finally, Danny has no choice.

He goes to drag this random old man and his little sister back to the Zone himself.

Alfred takes one look at him and slowly slides a flier for Gotham University across the kitchen island.

"Your younger sister speaks well of you," the dead butler says, eyes beaming, "and I believe that, given what she has said, you qualify for one of the Wayne Educational Grants for a full ride, so to speak."

Alfred never gets dragged into the Ghost Zone, although eventually he does learn that they weren't trying to drag him into the Land of the dead but were just trying to get him to do paperwork.

He never goes.

Bruce, however, is very fucking confused as to where these strange kids came from.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #story idea #little too specific to be a general prompt #just an idea

[dark-and-kawaii]

꧁༺ 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 ༻꧂

Astarion loses sight of you in a fight, he fears the worse has happened to you. He finds you and manages to bring you back to shadowheart for healing, only to discover he has more to protect than just you…

Angst - Hurt - Comfort - Pregnancy

(Click For Part Two)

You were fearless. He watched as you swung your dagger effortlessly, piercing into the necks of their enemies.

He wondered how you still managed to look elegant even when covered in the blood of fallen warriors.

His gaze never left you for too long, making sure you were safe, while he stealthed around the makeshift arena, racking up his own share of kills. How glorious this was! There was so much blood splattering all around them and with his love at his side it truly couldn’t get any better.

Astarion’s eyes couldn’t be everywhere though, and at some point, he lost sight of you. The last person to recognize him for what he’s worth, the one person he truly couldn’t afford to lose.

His head darted across the battlefield, desperately trying to find you. His panic plunged into sheer dread as fear overcame him. It was happening all over again, he’d seen this before… Alone.. No, please, he couldn’t let this be his fate.

He hadn’t felt fear this whole day; why should he? He was free of Cazador, had you- A subtle manic laugh drew from his throat, he’d never be free of fear, instead of fearing for himself or what his old master would do to him he now feared what would happen to you when in danger.

His red eyes turned a dark shade of black. The expression of a crazy man etched onto Astarion’s face. No, he wouldn’t let fear consume him, no more! He’d finally be the protector! Overcome with fury he went on a rampage. Cutting through the battlefield, slaughtering anyone and everyone in his way, determined to find you. He raced over to where he last saw you, faster than a blue dragon's lightning splits through the air in a storm.

Was he truly going to be the reason you passed on to the next life. Was his fate to destroy everything he held near and dear to his heart? He nearly killed you before with his own fangs and now, no! He wasn’t the cause of that, was he? He hadn’t ever tasted human blood before, but if he was stronger it wouldn’t have happened! If he would’ve ascended he would’ve been able to stop this, however he’s still just a spawn… How could you have fought for his love, a fool who couldn’t even protect you. A fool who was going to be the reason you die.

“FIND HER” He roared at the top of his lungs. “FIND TAV!”

The group of companions didn’t dare hesitate and instantly started searching the grounds, Gale being the second most worried.

Astarion was about to collapse to his knees before hearing Gale's voice, “I’ve found her!” in the distance. It filled him with more apprehension. All he could think is, ’what if she’s dead’.

Staggering up the hill where Gale’s voice had come from, Astarion can see a figure laying in the dirt next to the wizard, “No! You can’t die dammit! Get up!!” he rushed out his words, dismay evident in his tone as he knelt next to you.

“She is unconscious, but alive. There’s hope.” Gale replied.

Astarion let out a shaky breath of relief.

“We must get her back to camp,” Astarion demanded. “She needs Shadowheart, she’s the only one who can fix this!” His voice cracked despite his efforts to mask it.

“I agree.” Gale, mere inches from grabbing you to lift you in his arms until the pale elf stopped him, “Don’t touch her!- I- I will carry her.” Trying to compose himself he lifted you bridal style.

Astarion never left your side during Shadowhearts attempts to heal you. Time never bothered him, not after his 200 years of torment, he waited as “patiently” as he could.

“Honestly, how long does it take! You could at least give me some good news!”

Shadowheart continued to focus on you best she could, everyone including the gods were used to Astarions fits at this point. Gale on the other hand not so much, he could hear Astarion all the way in his own tent which caused the wizard to scrunch his nose. Eventually, leading him to where you were being treated, “Astarion, why don’t you join me in some wine. I’ve got quite the choices, besides… It might be best if we give her some space.”

Astarion scowled, “You expect me to leave her side to join you in some cheap wine? Really? I didn’t think you could get anymore annoying, Gale.”

“It’s done. She’ll be fine after some more rest.” Shadowheart stood from your side and wipes the blood off her hands. She’s been traveling with you and these two men for far too long, toning out their bickering was a skill of hers at this point.

Turning to face you, if his heart could beat he knows it would’ve dropped in his chest this very moment… “Leave us-“ kneeling down next to your bedroll, his eyes fixed on your bandaged wound, “please.”

“I was able to save her,” -Shadowheart bent down towards Astarion- “and the child, but it took most of my energy and resources… Don’t ask for me again for a while. Keep them both safe.”

He was quiet, his eyes wide after the news he was just told.

“Ahhh,” Shadowheart’s voice was surprised, “she didn’t tell you yet? Hmm or perhaps she hadn’t known yet? Curious.”

Astarion could only stare at his love, “A-are you for certain?”

Gale interjected, “I doubt her magic would deceive her, congratulations.”

Dark bruises and cuts decorated your once perfect skin. A deep purple shade surrounded your right puffy eye. His eyes traveled further down your body, stopping at your stomach.

He caressed your still flat stomach, causing you to wince and awake. Retreating his hand, he awaited for your eyes to open and look up at him.

A-Astarion?” You spoke with a small smile carved on your lips.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.” He struggled out, trying his best not to crumble.

You were both silent, hands entwined with one another thankful that you both can spend another day alive in the presence of another.

He was the first to break the silence, “thank you.”

You were so weak, but you wanted to know why he was thanking you out of the blue, “For what?” Your voice barely heard.

“For this,” his hand stretching out to rest on your abdomen, “for giving me purpose again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, not knowing what he was talking about until it finally hit you. Your arm wavered as you lifted it to place your hand atop of his on your belly. A gentle smile forming on your lips as you stared into his vermilion eyes.

When your breath became labored indicating you had fallen asleep again, Astarion’s attention was back at your torso where the bandage was slowly being stained by your blood. This moment of relief turned to anger again as he lashed out, slapping a metal canister of water out the tent with force. The absolute intrigued him at first, more power meant being stronger to protect you, but now… He was beyond ever considering it again. The cultist not only almost killed you, but the child growing from within you!

“How dare they…” He seethed, “How dare they harm her and my child!”

Astarion was pacing around angrily, how could he have allowed this to happen? He started to blame himself.

“Astarion-“ You spoke up, attempting to calm him down.

“I’ll show them, my love-“ he cut you off, “that nobody is allowed to touch what is mine.” He growled.

His eyes darkened again: “I’ll make them pay.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #tav #Gale #astarion x you

[leclercstarrs]

protecter, daryl dixon.

summary: in which your daughter gets curious about you and daryl’s relationship after he continues to protect the two of you!

warnings: obviously reader has a kid, fem!reader, and this is not yet proof read!

notes: requested by anon, hope this finds you well bby!

The prison is gone. The governor destroyed it and everything in it’s path, leaving it for the dead to make their new home. Now, the group is separated, everyone off with their own smaller group, hoping to reunite and find each other again.

You, fortunately, got split off with your daughter, who you never would’ve left, and Daryl. The three of you are somewhere in the forest, surrounding a small fire, eating scraps of the rabbit the man killed.

“Here, want some more?” You offer your daughter some more of your share of the rabbit meat, making sure she’s not going hungry for the night. “No, she can have some of mine.” Daryl insists, gently pushing your hand back down, instead offering the little girl some of his share. “I’m full.” Your daughter rejects the offer, brushing her hands off on her pants, “Ya sure?” He asks again. She nods in response.

“Okay, let’s go to sleep.” You move towards your daughter and give her your sweater, leaving you in a tank top. It’s a cold night, but she’s your priority at the moment, so you help her put on the clothing. “Night, mommy.” She mumbles, pausing for a second and patting the wood chips and dirt down, then lying down. “Goodnight, Daryl.” The girl adds. You glance at him, admiring his smile at your daughter.

Your daughter sits up, scanning her surroundings. It’s still dark out, she couldn’t sleep. “Mommy.” She whispers, attempting to wake you up. Your currently sleeping next to Daryl, his arms wrapped around your waist, soft snores escaping from his lips. “Mommy.” The young girl shakes you again. “What’s wrong?” Daryl shoots up when he hears your daughter’s voice, immediately grabbing his crossbow that’s next to him, turning back to face her. “I couldn’t sleep.” She says. “Oh.” Daryl places the weapon back down, carefully shuffling around to sit next to the girl, deciding to let you get some more rest.

“What’s keeping ya up?” He asks your daughter, receiving a shrug in response. “

Are you scared?” Daryl tries a different approach to his question.

She shrugs.

“Okay.” He pauses, starting to feel awkward in the silence, deciding to pick a small flower out of the ground and twirl it around in his hands. “So, you’re dating my mom?” She blurts out. Daryl’s eyes widen slightly, causing him to drop the flower, turning to face her. “What?” He replies. “I’m not stupid.” The girl pauses, “I know you like her.” She continues, teasing the older man about your relationship with him. He gets flustered, slightly blushing, “None of your business, it’s personal, adult stuff.” He scoffs, earning a laugh from her. “It became my business. You’re always protecting us, which is nice. I like you, I think you’re good for my mom. But..” She sighs, “If you ever do anything to hurt her, you won’t see the next day.” She threatens the man. Daryl shakes his head, not taking your daughter seriously, but still responding with an honest answer, “I’d never hurt her.”

#sorry i lit cannot write about having kids 😭 this might suck #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd x y/n #twd x you #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd

[moonstruckme]

hayy!! so tonight i went to a small little show that my friend was doing with his band, and me and the bassist made crazy eye contact while he sang the lyrics “good, i’m proud of you” to me. (i’m dead) ANYWAYY it made me think, this is kinda out there but maybe a james potter band au?? like he’s a drummer or bassist and you keep making crazy eye contact and the tension is THICK.. (maybe even some groupie activity later??) IDKK i’d love to see youre interpretation 😋 or even just to chat about it!!! i love you’re work sm

That sounds so fun babe! Thanks for sharing omg <3

cw: bar

rockstar!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

As much as you like Marlene, you’d sort of thought her band was going to be shitty. And in your defense, most of the ones who play this venue, where the crowd is typically too drunk to care what sound fills the space and it only costs a few quid to get in, are pretty amateurish. They’ll play their one or two original songs, then fill the rest of their time with covers, trying all the while to figure out how to work the stage and engage the crowd. 

These guys definitely don’t seem like amateurs. 

Marlene had said they were just starting out, but you don’t believe it. She, as you expected, is incredible. She embodies this fierce, uncaring kind of cool, fingers sliding up and down the neck of her electric guitar with skill you didn’t know she had. The guys in the band aren’t half bad either. The singer has a voice that seems always on the edge of a scream, and he and Marlene play off each other’s energy, him occasionally leaning the mic her way to belt something together. The bassist seems a bit aloof, long fingers moving with an almost lazy dexterity, which seems to be driving the people clustered at the edge of the stage even madder than they might be if he paid them any attention. And the drummer…

Perhaps you’re partial to the drummer because he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be cool at all. There’s something completely uninhibited about him that lights something in your chest and sends a buzz of excitement through the room, like you’re all feeding off his energy. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. Sweat shines brilliantly on his dusky skin and drips off the ends of curly brown hair that’s just long enough to flop into his eyes. Someone threw him a headband earlier in the show seemingly to help prevent this, so now he’s got it pushed back, curls protruding his head and bouncing as he bobs enthusiastically to the beat. A smile splits his face as he launches into a brief solo, and coincidentally your stomach erupts in butterflies at precisely the same time. 

You’re thinking of trying to jostle your way up to the barricade when the drummer’s eyes take another skim of the crowd, and this time they catch on you. Your heart stutters. A tall figure moves in front of you, obscuring your view of the stage, and when they pass the drummer’s still looking at you. And holy shit. This is eye contact. You’re not totally sure how well he can see you what with the lighting in here, but it feels like his eyes are looking right into yours and saying Hello, nice to meet you. 

A few seconds more and he has to tear his attention away as they go back into the chorus, but your eyes keep finding each other’s. It feels more intimate than it probably should, with several meters of distance between you and the crowded, raucous atmosphere, but you can’t help the giddy lightness that accumulates in your chest over the course of the set. 

During what the singer says will be their last song, his gaze flicks to you with something different in it. It’s not something you can place, but in the next second it’s gone, and all his attention is on his drum solo. You cheer with the rest of the audience as drumsticks fly, almost too quick to see, over the drums and cymbals, and you’re so caught up it takes you a second too long to realize one of them actually is flying. 

Your hands flinch up in front of you just in time, protecting your face and fumbling the drumstick nearly to the ground before you catch it. You look back towards the drummer, and his eyes have flared with alarm. 

“Sorry,” he shouts over the screeching of guitars, earning a glare from the singer a second before all sound cuts out. 

Marlene takes the mic, announcing that they’re done performing for the night but will be available to receive free drinks until closing. The band starts to pack up and leave the stage. 

The crowd splits in two, one half migrating towards the bar and the other towards the exits. You’re not quite sure where to go. You want to meet up with Marlene, maybe give her the drumstick to pass along to her bandmate and thank her for inviting you before you head home, but you’re not bold enough to venture backstage. You cast a glance toward the bar, twirling the wooden stick absentmindedly between your fingers. Maybe you can find a seat to wait for her? 

“You’re not bad at that.” 

You turn, and the drummer from the band is standing behind you. 

“Oh.” You glance down at the drumstick in your hand, feeling a bit silly as you hold it out. “Thanks. Here you go.” 

“Thank you.” His eyes are even better close up. He’s put on glasses, magnifying the warm brown of his irises and the thick, dark lashes that nearly brush his lenses when he blinks. “You looked like you’d be a better catcher.” 

You laugh. “Not sure what would make you think that.” 

“Well, you did manage it in the end.” He smiles. It’s charming with a touch of roguishness, and you get the impression he’s someone accustomed to being forgiven. “Sorry for almost hitting you in the face.” 

You shrug, suddenly unsure what you usually do with your hands. “It happens,” you say. “I don’t take it personally when musicians lose their instruments in my direction.” 

“Oh, well I wasn’t trying to lob it at your head, but tossing it your way wasn’t an accident.” 

Something funny happens in your gut. “It wasn’t?” 

His grin spreads and he shakes his head. “I figured it was my best shot at getting a chance to meet you.” 

Your face heats. You hope you’re not smiling as big as it feels like you are. “You could’ve just asked Marlene,” you say. “No need to throw things.” 

He laughs, a warm and hearty sound. “I’ll have to refine my methods,” he replies. “I’m James.” 

You tell him your name in turn, and he gets this look on his face like it’s the best thing he’s heard all night. 

“Do you wanna join us at the bar for free drinks?” he asks, taking out the headband and ruffling his hair so his curls bounce onto his forehead. It’s more than a little distracting. “I’m sure Marls would love for you to stay.” 

“I…” You glance towards the bar. “I’m pretty sure the free drinks are just for people in the band, no?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” He waves you off, taking your hand and leading you towards the bar. “You won’t be paying regardless. Just tell me what you like.”

#rockstar!james potter #rockstar!james potter x reader #james potter au #marauders au #marauders rockstar au #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #marauders #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #marauders era #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[jasmines-library]

Hi. Um... i have been craving angst

👀 and my angsty mind has been making up... scenarios, but like would love them typed out so i can read 💀 i live your work, p.s. <3

anyways, would like to ask for something along these lines:

reader is a batsibling

is kidnapped

fam cant find her for a few days and is panicked

they find her somewhere, blindfolded and tied up, on the ground and caked in blood

they get her some med stuff and whatever

and they're like how did this happen so they somehow get cctv or duke uses his powers or something and finds out that they've been beaten for info

and they get like really angry and all that jazz

:D rest up to you!

would be great if you did it 🥺

but i understand if it's too much

love youuuu 💖/platonic ehe

okay, i will excuse myself from your asks now. byeee

Loaded Silence

hello hello! Thanks for requesting. This was super angsty, but as you put I crave it too... ❤️

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture (not very graphic), fear, medical scenes.

Word Count: 1.5k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

It had happened unexpectedly. You were there one second and gone the next. In a blink of an eye. Nothing more nothing less. That was all it took for you to slip away. Damian could have sworn he was only gone for a minute. To stretch his legs and grab something to eat. But that was all it took for them to sneak in. Quiet as a mouse they crept in, splitting through the open window at the back of the room. Leaving it open had been a careless mistake, but who was to think that you would have been taken in the safety of your own home? 

They grabbed you roughly from behind. A set of rough hands pinning you to the sofa, clamped tightly over your mouth as another worked to tie a heavy bandage around your eyes. You had squirmed feebly trying to gain some leverage. Your training desperately tried to kick in but at that moment, you were not a vigilante. You were Y/N Wayne: A citizen, child to the wealthiest man in Gotham and utterly fucked. 

You had no choice after that than to allow them to drag you downtown, you had kicked and cried blindly, desperate for one of your brothers to chase after you. But whoever was gripping you tight enough to bruise was clearly experienced and you knew that they stood no chance so unexpectedly. 

When they tossed you down on the ground, you thought it would offer some relief. The room was dank, dusty and smelt of water rot and mould. This was the part where they would send a ransom note to Bruce and he and your brothers would come charging in sooner or later. But you had never been more wrong. 

“We know who you are, Wayne.” A voice spoke. Feminine but not soft spoken. Threatening. “Or would you prefer Raven?”

Your stomach dropped as bile burned the back of your throat. You knew you could fight now, but you were defenceless weaponless with your hands and feet bound together. 

“The fuck do you want?” You spat, though the effect of the venom in your words was lost for you looked so helpless. 

“Bold of you to speak to me that way, given your predicament.” The woman chuckled, prodding you with her foot. “You’re here as a sort of…payment.”  She mused. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“What?” 

“My husband.” She started, moving away from you. You could hear her pacing around the room but you  could only conjure up images in your mind. “Leader of the greatest crime suricate in Gotham. And now, he’s dead. Rotting in some coffin in the ground, thanks to your father.” 

She moved closer again. Her heels clattered against the floor. 

“He took away the only thing that ever mattered to me!” She gripped your wrist, lifting you up off the floor and leaning into your face. “So now, I’m going to take away one of his toys until someone tells me how to get him out! His precious little girl. Oh how I can’t wait to see the look on all of their faces when they see you. That is of course…after we have a little fun.”

~

There was still no sign of you. And it felt as if they had searched every inch of the city. The high and the low but still nothing. No one had slept much in the three days you had been missing. Their nights were either spent searching for you on patrol or laying awake staring blankly at the ceiling as their minds conjured up the worst. None of them said it outloud but the possibility that you were dead loomed over them. But no one ever said anything. They just continued to search in silence. It seemed like Babs and Tim hadn’t torn their eyes away from the screens since Damian came barging into the room three days ago, doubled over and panting as he revealed the news. The only time they ever moved was to head to the bathroom or to make another mug of lukewarm coffee. 

The rest of the family were out on patrol. That was what they were calling it anyway. Really they were looking for you. And still there had been no sign until Dick stumbled upon a window. It was low down to his feet covered by concrete as though the building had just sunk into the concrete. And when he tried to peer inside, it seemed to be covered by something on the inside. 

It could have been nothing.

But Dick was desperate. 

He called over the other vigilantes with a signal on his com. They all came tricking over towards him silently through the city. Some bubbling with hope and anticipation, but all dreading the worst. 

Moving around the back of the house, Dick pushed open the door. 

~

You had never been more scared in your entire life. Everything ached, burned or stung. From what you could feel there didn’t seem to be a single inch of your skin that wasn’t covered in blood. It clung sticky to your skin, cracking every time you managed to bring yourself to shift against the floor.

She had continued her onslaught for hours, trying to force answers that she knew you would never be able to give her from your chapped lips. She would leave every once in a while, returning silently to catch you off guard with another round of pain. You couldn’t see her: the blindfold still remained firmly around your eyes, so you had to anticipate when she would return as you cowered against the back wall in a pool of your own blood. You were unsure how long it had been since she tossed you into the room. Without the relief of sunlight, your woozy mind had lost track of time. 

And then a pair of hands gripped your shoulders. And you screamed, trying to recoil away from them. You didn’t make it far. Your body was too weak.

“No! No please! No more!” You begged, tears dribbling down your cheeks to mingle among the dirt and blood. “I already told you I-I don’t know anything! Please!”

“Woah, woah.” It was Dick’s voice that broke through to you, though they had all called out to you. It was him who had reached out to you in the first place, hesitant that the smallest touch would break you. As soon as they were met with resistance they knew you were here. And they fought as fast as they could to get to you. Praying that they wouldn’t find you as you had. Sprawled out across the floor in a pool of your own blood as you struggled to breathe. “It’s us.”

“We’re here, Kid.” Jason leaned forwards to remove the blindfold from your eyes as Dick tried to support you in his arms. You squiremed weakly, still untrusting. But the minute the blindfold was off and you had finished adjusting to the onslaught of light. You broke.

You collapsed into Dicks arms, sobbing and shaking. He cupped the back of your head with his hands and held you, giving Jason and Duke a nervous glance. Your blood had already begun to stain the front of his suit as you whimpered in his arms, clinging to him tightly. 

When he tried to shift you, you let out a sob and clung to him tighter. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had hurt you or because you were scared he was going to leave you. Probably both.

“Y/N?” Jason whispered, moving to crouch by your side. “ We’re here now. We’re going to get you home okay? Can you tell us what happened?”

You shook your head and buried your face into Dicks chest trying to block out the pain.

Eyes turned to Duke who watched you with sad eyes. They observed as he surveyed the room, taking in the horrors that the light revealed. And he couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out of his lips. 

He paled at what he saw. Winced at the way your face contorted with pain as the woman towered over you, tossing you about the room like a ragdoll and slashing you with various tools as she screamed at you. He saw how she would catch you off guard by sneaking up on you in the dark as some cruel game to satisfy her sick amusement. He felt sick. 

In the time it took for him to see the echo of your agonies, Dick had managed to coax enough for him to stand so they could bring you out of the room and get you urgently to medical attention. 

The two looked at him expectantly. And once he had managed to stutter out what he had seen, Jason was tensely clenching his jaw and fists. 

Someone was going to bleed tonight. He was going to make sure of that.

Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

#batfam x reader #batfam x injured reader #batfam x sister reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x sister reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x sister reader #red hood #red hood x reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin #robin x reader #duke thomas #the signal #duke thomas x reader #dc #dc x reader #dc fanfic #batfam fanfic

[cultofdixon]

You do what you can

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Grimes’s Sister!Reader • This group desperately needs a home, and you need help. There’s only so much the archer and leader can do • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Excessive Nausea & Vomiting / Malnutrition

Requested by: Anon

NEXT

Hyperemesis Gravidarum, or severe vomitting is what Hershel said. It’s excessive nausea and vomiting that results in being unable to eat and drink because you can’t keep anything down.

Of course I had it.

Finding out I was pregnant in the prison, during the good times was of course bittersweet. Daryl, my partner, was worried about losing me like Lori but reassured that everything would be fine. Then the illness came through and he thought I had it with how intense my morning sickness was.

But Hershel reassured us and well scared us about a lot of the reactions that come with not being able to keep anything down.

“Please, what can I do?”

“Some just have this, Daryl. I’ll keep an eye on her. You gotta help the others”

While Daryl helped get medicine for those suffering the prison illness, he managed to find IV bags of fluids and that helped keep me hydrated when I couldn’t even take a sip of water without my throat burning.

Then well…a lot happened after that

Days have passed and again, a lot has happened. The prison collapsed, the group splitting, Beth’s disappearance, The Claimers,…Terminus, and now the group found themselves in the forest after barley escaping that hell they claimed as a “sanctuary for all” but it wasn’t.

After the small reunion, the group started to walk to…somewhere that wasn’t there. Eventually finding the chapel and the priest that almost lost his life if they didn’t arrive.

Before she even stepped foot into the small chapel, Y/N gripped Daryl’s arm indicating she needed to throw up again and step away to do so. Least she’s trying to inform him instead of disappearing for a few minutes to vomit in the woods. Not a pretty sight or…a pleasant sound.

Rick noticed the two coming in last as Y/N pulls away from Daryl to sit in a pew before ultimately laying down in it. He frowns trying to think of what he could do, she is his sister after all.

“How she doing?” He asks the second the archer approached him after checking on her once more.

“We better have a plan soon” Daryl frowns crossing his arms. “Doubt we’ll run into another hospital but the IV shit helped. Gotta find something like it”

“Or try to get her to drink. Just. Shit, I don’t know what else to do. Lori never had this shit”

The archer was sort of lost in his own mind, trying to plan something out that could help his partner. But every end is a dead one.

“I’m gonna keep watch, holler if?”

“Yeah, go ahead” Rick frowns watching Daryl go back to the pew Y/N was currently laid in, informing her of where he’ll be before stepping out of the chapel and Carol following behind him.

A few hours passed and Y/N jolted awake from an anxious thought only to feel the jacket draped over her which belonged to her brother. She eventually brought herself to sit up and put the jacket on entirely feeling the dryness of her hands, especially after not being able to have nutrients.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Michonne brought herself to sit with Y/N as she instantly rests her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Rick is taking watch and Daryl still isn’t back yet, just thought—-“

“He’s looking for Beth”

“How do you—?”

“Gut feeling…” Y/N frowns bringing her hands onto her small bump, feeling the anxiety bubble up inside her. “Michonne?”

“Yes?”

“…I…I’m afraid of losing my baby” She did her best to keep the tears from coming even if her body fought her against it and worsened her headache by bringing on the tears. “or of them losing—-“

“We will find the help you need. To keep you both alive and well”

But the worse kept coming, and we kept losing.

Bob was the first because of a bite. Then it was Beth at the hospital because of a cop with a trigger finger. Then Tyreese from blood loss because of an amputation caused by a bite. Sasha lost a partner and her brother, Maggie lost the last of her family. The two were on edge, Daryl felt like he failed, and the group was slowly weakening the more they continued on this blind path given the real news about Eugene came out. So no more hope for a cure. It will always be survival for those living through the apocalypse.

Maggie grew extra attached to Y/N given her state and the group can’t take another loss if it happened. Every time Y/N had to throw up or take a breather while the others kept walking, besides Daryl, Maggie was always there glued to her side which included Glenn glued to hers.

“Rick” Maggie called out for him with a bit of venom in her voice as he gave her a concerned look while handing Judith to Carol. “We need a break”

“It’s barely midday, we have to keep walking”

“Y/N can’t keep walking any longer. She needs a break” Maggie frowns pulling him to look directly at Y/N who was struggling to keep herself up even with Daryl’s help.

“Alright…Alright!” Rick nods directing people into the tree line, out of the road, to set up camp for the rest of the day and night.

Abraham took care of checking their surroundings as Sasha retraced their steps making sure they weren’t followed by anything or anyone. Carol got Noah and Glenn to help her set a few trigger lines for those who want to sleep. As much as Daryl wanted to help secure their surroundings, he felt as if he’d leave Y/N, that she’d decline. She’s already doing so but he thought he’d accelerate the process the moment he leaves.

“Can yea try for me?” Daryl frowns giving the last of his water to his partner as she nods, accepting his help with drinking from his canteen. He noticed a bit of a skin reaction on her neck from scratching the dryness as it was the same on her left arm. “Try not to scratch anymore…”

“Hard not to…” Y/N frowns leaning against the tree as Daryl sets his canteen down with his stuff bringing himself to sit against the tree. Gesturing with his eyes for her to lay her head in his lap. “We’ll find something…right, Dar?”

“I promise yea, sunshine” Daryl reassures brushing the hair out of her face watching Maggie approach them draping the blanket Rosita gave her to give Y/N over her body. The poor girl had already fallen asleep after being still long enough. “We’ll find somewhere right?”

“If we have to take it from somebody, then yeah. We’ll find somewhere” Maggie reassures him with a smile but hell, he knew she was anxious about her state.

The night was rough.

While she was exhausted more than the others because of being pregnant and having to be a part of less than 3% of pregnant individuals with hyperemesis gravidarum, she couldn’t control her anxiety jerks that would wake her. Freaking out Daryl every time and him waking resulted in Rick and Maggie waking given they stuck close to the two. Then the almost every hour to vomit. It’s gotten bad that Y/N started to dry heave and that would wake the rest sleeping. But every complain resulted in either her partner glaring at them or her brother snapping.

“My head hurts…” Y/N whispers to herself as the group started walking again the next day, this time she was with Carol while Daryl searched around for anything to have a longer stay in. Away from staying outside.

“Is that it?” Carol’s worry came out of her tone as she brought her arm around Y/N’s waist when she noticed her sway slightly. “You’ve got the last of the water…not like it was enough…we need a miracle or something”

“Kids first…Jude needs it. Carl needs it—-“

“You and your baby do too” Her tone shifted to strict immediately. She remembered how Y/N sacrificed a lot of her things in the past to keep everyone else afloat and she wasn’t about to let her do it again when it comes to her health.

It felt like fate or a foreshadow given after that conversation, everyone surrounded a cluster of water bottles in the middle of the road about an hour later.

“Someone has to test it” Eugene went to grab one and it was immediately smacked out of his hands by Abraham. “What!”

“It could be a trap” Rosita scoffs at him. “You think we’d give a pregnant woman poisoned water”

“Not like I can keep it down” Y/N whispers as she stares at the cluster before flinching to the touch of water. Water?

The storm that Rick expected to come days later, decided to come sooner and thank Mother Nature for that. Few started to empty to bottles and fill it with rain water as it was the next best thing, then those who’ve lost so much took the “peaceful” moment to take it all in.

As Y/N looks up at the rainfall feeling the heat expel her body for a moment and a sudden wave of uncertainty take her. But before she could even be audible about such, her body had enough.

“Y/N!” Maggie yells the second her body hit the floor as Daryl instantly dropped to her aid checking her person for any injury.

But it was just her body shutting down and that thought triggered Daryl.

“I saw a barn a few yards inward. We gotta—-“

Rick didn’t hesitate another moment as he quickly picked up his sister in his arms while Daryl led the way to the temporary shelter he found.

After another rough night and sort of rude morning, Daryl protectively held Y/N close to his person the second she woke around the time this Aaron guy was discovered.

“Hey…hey” Daryl fought back tears watching her wake as she didn’t say anything but rest her head against his chest in a sense of reassurance. “You’re gonna be okay, okay? Please” his voice cracked trying to say more.

“Our community can protect her, your daughter.” Aaron tried to sell this unknown community as he glances to the situation happening behind Rick and directed toward that. “Can save her from dying—-“

Watch your words.

Rick instantly grabbed his collar forcing the man against the nearest wall glaring into his soul. “She ain’t dying and how do I know you wouldn’t kill her in this place?”

“B-Because we won’t! You don’t have to trust us right away b-b-but we have an infirmary. A-A surgeon that knows his stuff”

If his sister wasn’t in this condition, he wouldn’t have give in so easily. Not like he wouldn’t watch this total stranger like a hawk when checking her person.

Which led them to giving about five percent of their trust to this stranger and following him with his partner to Alexandria, the community he talked about. A few residents that helped with the infirmary tried taking Y/N on a gurney but her family was close to killing a few people for trying to touch her without warning. Soon Daryl along with Maggie followed the few that pulled Y/N away on the gurney they brought out after Aaron’s partner Erin radio’d in.

“If you keep glaring, it won’t let me work faster” Peter states, getting the IV into Y/N’s arm after he asked Maggie to help her out of her clothes and into a new change of clothes enough to show some of the skin lesions she had so he could take care of them.

“Don’t do anythin’ without informing” Daryl glares keeping close to Y/N’s bedside on the other side. Peter looks at him with a blank expression, tensing a bit every now and then.

“She’ll stay here until she’s hydrated enough, or least til your group gets placement.” He states hanging the bag after taping the IV on her arm. “Y’all said she’s pregnant?”

For an anxious reason, Daryl gave Maggie a worried expression thinking…yeah…when Peter was simply asking to confirm it or not.

“Yeah, she’s pregnant. Why?” Maggie frowns watching Peter’s every move as he stepped away to one of the storage closets for equipment they have and or get from runs.

“We don’t have an ultrasound machine. Just tests and one of these things I forgot the name of” Peter held a device that could detect the heartbeat of a fetus, as for checking the conditions they’d have to go full old school for that and he’d need to find a book in their library, if they have one on pregnancy. But for now they have this.

Right before Peter even moved the blanket to lift her shirt to put the wand on, Y/N flinched pulling herself away given she woke once more in the middle of all that. Daryl frowns, relieved though, as he brushes back her hair catching her worried expression.

“He’s gonna check on the peanut, Y/N. Just let’em. I won’t let him do anythin’ else” Daryl reassures as Y/N nods slowly letting the man work but kept her eyes on him while he turned the device on and guided the wand to the right spot.

Heartbeat

A surprisingly healthy heartbeat

“That’s good. Strong” Peter states pulling the wand away before fixing the blanket over her and putting the device away. “I’ll come back in an hour or two to give her more fluids. Want me to tell your leader you’ll be in here?” He asks Maggie given the two watched Daryl drop to his knees hugging Y/N tightly her in her laid out state.

“Please.” Maggie gave a small smile letting the man leave before bringing herself to the other side of her bed resting her hand on her leg. “We’ll make this place work. To keep you both safe”

The two held onto one another and Maggie kept an eye on them for Rick before leaving to give them a minute. She kept close to the infirmary in case either of the two needed anything as she watches Rick practically run his way over to her with a worried look.

“She’s going to be okay. They both are” Maggie smiles watching the tension leave Rick’s shoulders for a moment as he instantly went for a hug with his friend.

When they parted, before the retired sheriff went in to check on his sister himself…the remaining Greene stopped him.

“Yeah?”

“We need to make this place work, Rick”

“I know…but—-“

“You can be cautious. We all are gonna be a while…but we all need this to work. For us, your kids, for them. We need this place for us”

“You do what you can for your family, and I’ll always protect mine”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[papercorgiworld]

You're uninvited

Draco Malfoy x Potter!reader

When tensions between your brother and Draco rise, your friend advises you to go talk to Draco since he'll listen to you. However, some meddling by Mattheo and Theodore complicates things.

For this story Iris (a cameo by @amongemeraldclouds ) will be your friend and Enzo's girlfriend.

For the darling who requested this, I hope you like it. I find that it misses something, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's the lack of brother sister interaction, I don't know. I did my best. Also shittiest tittle ever, but zero inspiration. I had struggles with this one. Anyways Happy readings!

“Fifty points from Slytherin because you went crying to Mcgonagall, I’ll get you for this Potter!” Draco snarled as he walked past your brother, you frown as you approached them. Draco raises his eyebrows as he passes you as well. “What did you do?” You snap at your brother as his eyes still follow Draco’s figure. He ignores you and Hermoine frowns. “He looked seriously pissed off.” Harry shrugs. “What can he do-“ Ron raises his eyebrows at his friend. “He can break your nose again.” Your brother can see the horror in your eyes at Ron’s suggestion. “Don’t worry, (y/n). Most of the time he’s all bark, no bite.”

You walk with your brother and his friends in the direction of the great hall. Once there you spot your friend, Iris, waving at you from the Slytherin table and you make your way over to her. “Your brother lost us 50 house points.” She complains and you sit down next to her. “I know.” You sigh. “In how much trouble is he?” You question sheepishly and her eyes quietly move opposite of her to where her boyfriend is sitting. Enzo smiles, not really bothered by the loss of points. “I think we can all get over the 50 points lost, but Draco getting a week detention… yeah he’s definitely out for revenge.” Your eyes widen at Enzo. “A week’s detention?” Enzo and Iris both nod and you lose your appetite, remembering how bad Harry looked after Draco broke his nose. Iris’s brown eyes carefully watch you as you stare at your plate. Knowing that you’re probably worried about another fight she offers some advice. “Why don’t you talk to Draco and explain that your brother is just an idiot, I’m sure he’ll listen to reason… at least if it’s coming from you.” Enzo looks at Iris through his laches, knowing very well what his girlfriend is hinting at. “Yeah, he’ll definitely listen to you.” He tries to sound serious, but you notice a hint of mischief in his tone and frown. Iris narrows her eyes at her boyfriend for being obvious and for a moment you think about asking what’s going on, but you decide against it and just nod. “You guys are probably right. I can just talk to him and encourage a peaceful solution to the endless tension between the two.” 

Blaise takes a seat at the Slytherin table and his eyes immediately land on you. “Come on, Potter, sitting at the slytherin table after what your brother pulled, he lost us fifty points, you’re ballsy sitting here!” You know he’s only joking, but you notice the whole slytherin table looking at you and feel yourself get smaller. “Back off Blaise, you’ve probably lost Slytherin more points.” Iris snares at Blaise and he laughs. “Excuse me! I don’t lose us points. You must mistake me for your himbo boyfriend over here.” Enzo goes from smiling to dead serious in a split second, turning to Blaise. “Are you calling me stupid?” Blaise rolls eyes. “Yesterday you said a mandrake was a fruit.” Lorenzo narrows his eyes at Blaise. “In my defence she was sitting next to me and you can’t expect me to listen to Sprout when… you know, I was focussed on other things…” Enzo points at his girlfriend, blaming her for being distracted during class. You can’t help but smile, happy that for now everyone has forgotten about Harry. With the tension at the table gone your mind wonders what you’ll say to Draco to convince him to make peace or at least not get into another fight with your brother.

***

After class you spot Draco gathering his books while scowling at Mattheo who’s clearly trying to be funny. When Mattheo spots you he smirks and quickly leaves the classroom, you slowly approach Draco who’s still focused on organising his notes. You start fidgeting with your fingers as you notice everyone’s left and it’s just you and a very frustrated Draco who can’t seem to find a certain page. Just when your courage to talk to him sinks you spot a piece of parchment laying on the floor and reach for it. “Is this what you’re looking for?” Surprised, Draco circles around to you and frowns at your presence. You immediately notice how hesitant he is towards you. “I just saw it on the floor and I thought it might be yours.” You try to sound casual, but since the two of you rarely talk your words sound forced and awkward. “Thanks.” Draco whispers curtly and snatches the paper from your hands. When you don’t turn around to leave he watches you with a questioning look. 

After a bizarre moment of silence, he raises an eyebrow and turns back around to gather his notes. Sorry, Harry, but I’m doing this for you. “My brother’s an idiot.” The blond slytherin turns back to you. “He never thinks about the consequences of his actions.” Draco snorts at your words. “I don’t think he thinks at all.” You narrow your eyes at Draco. Don’t push it Malfoy, he is still my idiot brother. You look down and Draco notices that was not the best approach. You were different from Harry, but he was still your brother. “I heard Blaise gave you a hard time during lunch.” Draco tries to change the subject as he stuffs his notes into his bag. You nod and smile at him. “He was only joking, I know that.” Draco and you move towards the door. “I told everyone to leave you alone, I know you’re not a moron like you brother. Are you sure you’re family?” You chuckle at his question. “Yes, I’m sure Malfoy.” Your smile and he slows down his step, adoring your beauty, before his eyes lock with yours. There’s this soft moment between you two and you notice how Draco’s cheeks heat up, making him look away and walk a little faster than you in an attempt to hide his flustered face. 

“You don’t need to call me Malfoy, just because he does.” You're surprised by the gentle tone of Draco’s voice and a sweet smile tugs on your lips. “I know, but it’s not like you and I are friends or anything.” He stops and suddenly the two of you are standing way closer than either of you had intended. “Yeah, that’s probably why I hate him so much.” You frown, not really following and a soft chuckle rolls over Draco’s lips. “Your brother I mean… I like to think that if it wasn’t for him- maybe, I don’t know- maybe we would be friends or something.” Draco’s confession has you flustered and you press your lips into a line while avoiding his gaze at all costs. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Draco who suddenly even feels brave enough to take one step closer to you, leaving barely any space between the two of you as you stand there in an empty hallway. “Tomorrow before the Ravenclaw party, there’s a little pre-drink at the astronomy tower, rather exclusive, but Enzo and Iris will be there… You should come.” Your shiny eyes meet Draco’s as you nod. “I would like that.”

***

Unfortunately, the sweet moment between you two is mocked by Draco’s friends. “I bet that girl is willing to do all kinds of stuff now.” Theodore snorts at Draco’s confused face and Mattheo grins like a maniac. When Theodore notices that Draco’s getting rather annoyed he explains himself. “She’s worried about you hurting her brother, that’s why she’s suddenly being nice to you.” Draco’s eyes go emotionless at Theo’s suggestion and Mattheo licks his lips, mind still filled with dirty thoughts. “Enjoy it while it lasts, it should be fun. Pretty girl trying to gain your favour. I wouldn’t waste that opportunity.” Draco wrinkles his nose in disgust with his friends. “Keep your filth to yourself, Riddle.” With those words a furious Draco leaves the common room passing Iris and Enzo who immediately judge Theodore and Mattheo for whatever they had done this time. 

Draco spots you walking alone in the courtyard on your way to your friends. When you notice him walking in your direction, you smile and slow down so he can catch up with you. “Hi-” You’re immediately cut off. “You’re uninvited.” Draco snaps at you with a scowl on his face. That’s all you get, because he immediately turns away. Your smile falls when you watch him walk away. His anger makes you take a step back, but even regardless of his anger, you are really disappointed that you couldn’t go tonight. You looked forward to spending time with him, because you liked him. It was your most guarded secret, you liked him a lot and now you couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken. Maybe your brother and his friends were right, maybe he really was just a horrible person and all those nice things he had done over the years were just a bizarre way of mockery. You stood still in the middle of the courtyard, feeling like a fool.

However, Draco was about to feel like an even bigger fool, because when he returned to the slytherin common room he overheard Enzo and Iris lecturing Mattheo and Theo. “I can’t believe you guys would say something like that.” Iris says, shaking her head at Mattheo and Theodore. Lorenzo lets himself fall on the sofa, grinning. “Really, you can’t believe that dumb and dumber ruined or little plan, because I’m not surprised.” Iris sighs and Mattheo and Theo frown. “Draco and (y/n) have been crushing on each other for years.” Enzo explains and both slytherin boys look shocked. Iris stares at them for a moment not believing that they hadn’t noticed the obvious signs, before her boyfriend tugs her hand urging her to stop stressing and join him. “Iris and I have been looking for an excuse to get them to talk again, hang out more, so this seemed the ideal opportunity.” Softly stroking Iris her black hair to make her relax, Enzo explains their plan and Draco’s eyelids fall close as he curses himself. She had a crush on me?! After all those years of Harry ruining my chances, I know fuck it up myself.

Holding his friends equally responsible for his screw up, Draco hexes Theodore and Mattheo, leading to total chaos in the slytherin common room. 

Lorenzo and Blaise take Mattheo to the astronomy tower to cool down and Theodore pours himself a glass of firewhiskey as his dead eyes watch Draco hold an ice pack against his jaw. “Does it hurt?” Iris asks and Draco nods. Theodore snorts. “Good.” Draco grits his teeth, glaring at Theodore and Iris scowls at Theo, who decides to keep quiet and take a sip from his drink. “Iris, you need to help me fix this with (y/n), please.” Draco begs with heartbroken eyes and a bruised jaw.

The weekend ended up being miserable for everyone. Draco even decided to skip the party, knowing that you wouldn’t talk to him at all; there really was no reason for him to be there. Feeling heartbroken and not in the mood to talk to anyone you hide in your room as well.

***

As instructed by Iris you wait for Draco in the hallway after potions class. “Again, Enz? 20 points.” Blaise sighs and Enzo raises his hands in defence. “I got distracted.” Mattheo sighs. “You spent every night with your girl, how can you not focus for one hour? I mean Theo doesn’t get distracted by staring at Ella.” Lorenzo frowns at Mattheo’s argument. “Theo always skips class.” 

You hear the sound of bickering between the guys ebb away into the distance and it makes you wonder what’s keeping Draco. He hadn’t left the classroom, so your eyes peek through the open door as you lean against the wall opposite of it. To your horror you spot Harry and Draco talking and instantly your heartbeat quickens. You push yourself off of the wall and take a step closer, studying the two as they talk. Draco seems unusually calm and Harry just nods a lot, when your brother’s eyes accidently land on you he gives you a soft smile and for some reason you immediately return it without knowing what it’s about. 

The next moment the both of them part and you take a step back, acting like you had just been obviously staring at them. “See you later, sis.” Is all Harry says and with confused eyes you watch his back. “Your brother and I made peace… for now at least.” Draco pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up at him. After a second you look down, remembering how he had snapped at you the other day and uninvited you for no reason. “Good.” You nod and force a smile. An awkward cough from Draco, before he puffs his chest a bit announces his apology. “About the other day, how I snapped at you- it was wrong. I- Theo and Matt, they said- No, it doesn’t even matter. I should’ve known better and shouldn’t have uninvited you. I guess, I just want to say I’m really sorry.” Now your forced smile turns genuine and your eyes light up. A soft laugh escapes Draco as he sees you smile at him with sweet eyes. “What did they say to get you so upset?” You ask and Draco snorts, remembering his own stupid overreaction. “Stupid things, I should’ve known better. I guess my insecurities got the better of me.” 

You press your lips together and nod understandingly at his honest confession. “I’m glad we’re good again.” You tell him as your eyes lock with his and Draco can’t help but drown in your eyes, as he nods once in agreement. “I was… wondering-” Draco takes a deep breath as he searches for his courage to finish his sentence. “if, maybe you want to go to Madam Puttifoot with me?” A soft laugh rolls off your lips. “Puddifoot’s?” You question not believing you heard him right, the blond slytherin nods and you can’t hide the giddy smile on your face. You feel yourself blush madly. Puddifoot was a place for couples so it was obvious to you that Draco malfoy had just asked you on a date. With a flustered face you meet his eyes. “I would love that.” You whisper, afraid that if you said it any louder your excitement would be embarrassingly obvious. 

***

“Malfoy?” Ginny asks you for the 10th time and you sigh. “Yes, I’m going out with Draco Malfoy.” Her eyebrows knit together. “Malfoy?!” You groan and push her onto your bed as you walk past her to get your cutest jacket and finish your outfit. You check yourself out in the mirror and Luna speaks up. “I don’t think he's that bad.” Ginny frowns and even you don’t understand why she’s sticking up for him. When she sees Ginny’s judgy eyes, she explains herself. “I think blonds should support each other.” You laugh at her logic and turn around showing off your outfit. “What do you guys think?” Luna smiles. “Absolutely perfect.” Ginny crosses her arms. “Too pretty for a guy like him, but okay if you like him I’ll support you.” You laugh at her reluctance to say those last words. 

***

The date was perfect, you had enjoyed every second with Draco. The awkward walk to Hogsmeade when you were both still nervous. The first order at Madam Puttifoot’s when you finally relax and opened up more to each other. That last order had you feeling you had been friends since forever. The most magical moment, however, was when you left the cute cafe and Draco reached for your hand, gently holding it in his own hand. You meet his eyes and simultaneously you both lean closer towards each other, shoulders bumping as you walk together. Suddenly, your mind can’t help but wonder back to what got him so upset. “What did Riddle and Nott say?” Your question has Draco frowning and he bites his lip for a second as he struggles to confess. “They had me convinced that you were only being nice because you were worried about your brother, that you didn’t actually like me.” He says it in one breath and immediately looks away. You stop walking and Draco stops as well. Still looking away he squeezes your hand as he fears that you’re mad at him for thinking like that. He fears your hand will slip away and he’ll never hold it again. You take a step closer to him and he finally looks at you, meeting your soft eyes. “Don’t ever think something like that again, Draco, because I really really like you.” Your voice is just above a whisper and Draco feels himself fall in love with you even more. 

When you lean in, lips getting dangerously close, Draco feels himself heat up and almost freaks out, but manages to pull himself together at the last second and meets your lips with more passion than you had expected. When the kiss ends you stay close to each other, smiling like love struck fools before Draco leans in for another even more intense kiss. However, your kiss is cut short when you hear someone call for you. “Ey! Ey!” You turn your head to see Harry, followed by Hermoine and Ron. As soon as you look at him his anger seems to subside and turn into something uncomfortable. “You… can do… what you… want… to do, but not where I can see it.” Draco’s first reaction is to get annoyed and grit his teeth. Then you better look away Potter. But when a soft giggle escapes you Draco relaxes. “Fine, we’ll just go back to the castle.” You look up at Draco, whose voice is calm but still has a frustrated tone to it. “G-Good.” Harry answers hesitantly. Hand in hand you and Draco walk away and Harry hears you laugh as Draco whispers something. Hermoine and Ron join Harry as he watches you. “Are sure it’s such a good idea to leave them alone.” Hermoine wonders out loud. “Why?” Harry asks, oblivious, and turns around to his friends. Ron gives him one obvious glance with raised eyebrows. “Because you know what people who are in love do when they're alone.” Panic fills Harry’s eyes as he sees Draco sling his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to him.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #papercorgiworldwritings

[ddejavvu]

So I had long hair for the last two year and recently cut it too a 90s lob type thing and I was wondering if you could write one were Jake and reader have eniemes type shit and of course reader has long hair and one day Jake comes to the bar and sees this back of this girl he knows is beautiful she has short hair and he walks up too you and start to filrt with you and you turn around he just star struck on how beautiful you look

If there's one thing you can be sure Jake Seresin will tease you about, it's your hair. You've had it long for years now, and he won't let anyone forget that he was the one to give you your, quite frankly infuriating, callsign; Rapunzel.

Living in close contact with Hangman had meant that a lot of your hair wound up all over his things, stuck to his shirt, woven into his socks after a wash, somehow lining the inside of his own helmet. So he'd donned you Rapunzel as a tease, and it had stuck, much to your dismay.

Now, though, you know you'll never escape the name even though you've chopped off the hair. It had simply been a pain serving with long hair, you'd had trouble tucking it into your helmet every day and the regulation buns never stayed in tact for an entire day. So off the hair went, onto the floor of a salon and swept away into the garbage.

Good Riddance.

"You want a new drink for your new look?" Penny grins, leaning against the bar to stare you down. You won't lie, you see exactly why Maverick is so enamored by her.

"No, thanks. Just the usual," You tuck a stray, very short strand of hair behind your ears, marveling at the feeling of the ends tickling your jaw. It's going to take some getting used to, at the very least.

"Anyone know yet?" She hands you your usual order, and you sip it while shaking your head.

"Nah. Not unless you count the Admiral, I had to stop by his office today."

"Well, it looks adorable. I'm sure they'll all like it." She smiles, patting you on the shoulder as someone calls for her from behind. She leaves you to go attend to them, and you check your phone absentmindedly, careful to keep it off of the bar.

Perhaps if you'd been paying closer attention to your surroundings, you would have registered the heavy steps of Hangman's boots that you hear all day. He stomps around like an elephant, but you don't hear him approach you from behind until he's speaking.

"Well, you must be a new face around here. I'd remember such gorgeous hair."

He's behind you, and your spine stiffens at his voice. His familiar drawl ties your stomach into knots, and you don't know how to stop him before he's doubling down.

"Now, look at that! Your face is just as- ah!" He stops dead in his tracks, eyes switching from sleazy to stunned in a split second when he finally gets a glimpse of you.

"Oh, Hangman," You grumble, "Can't you flirt with someone else?"

"You're- What happened to- I didn't know it was you!" He insists, "I- you cut your hair? Like- like all of it? Just- gone?"

"No," You antagonize him, "It's in my pockets. Yes it's gone, idiot!"

His eyes widen slightly at your admission, like he'd truly believed you'd just put on a wig for the night. But he makes no move to leave, a deep breath slowly fanning out from his nose.

For the first time in your life, you're seeing Hangman speechless. He's staring at you, almost studying you in the way that his wide eyes rake over your features. You're suddenly freaked by the prolonged attention he's never given you before, and you squirm in place.

"Go find someone else to schmooze." You wave a dismissive hand at him, and it seems to break his trance. He still doesn't jump at the opportunity to prowl the bar some more; instead he jumps at the seat beside you.

"I'm alright. 'Think I'll sit tonight out." He informs you, grunting as he settles on the barstool. He pats a quick hand on the par, "Penny, anyone paying the tab tonight?"

"Not unless Y/N puts her phone on the bar," Penny eyes your device with narrowed eyes, and you stuff it into your pocket quickly.

"Damn. Tough luck," He side-eyes you with a grin, "Just a beer, then, please."

No matter how unbearably cocky he is, he's always polite to Penny, and you're sure she appreciates it. That's why she doesn't gripe at his failed flirting attempt with you, merely sending you a knowing glance as she hands him the bottle. What she knows, you're afraid to find out.

"So, just felt like having a lighter cut?" Hangman hums, adam's apple bobbing as he takes a swig of beer.

"Yeah. Tired of stuffing it into my helmet, or having to fix it during an exercise." You shrug, "I'll get used to it."

"I could, too. Looks real nice, honey." He winks, hiding his smirk with another sip of booze. You turn away, schooling your lips into a neutral expression.

"Seems like I should come up with a new name for you, now that you can't really let down your hair." Jake muses, reaching up to tug at a strand by your ear. You swat him away, muscling a grin off of your lips.

"Bob's taken," You snap, "You've done enough, 'already hate Rapunzel as it is."

"Oh, bitch all you want," Jake scoffs, nudging you with his shoulder that you wish were less broad so that you didn't have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your mouth from falling open, "I know you like it when I call you a princess."

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

[randomfandomblabdom]

I really need to vent about how much I like Cal and Merrin's dynamic in Jedi: Survivor cause they've quickly become probably my favorite canon pairing in the franchise.

I absolutely love that this relationship is built on the basis of friendship, respect, and a genuine mutual understanding of each other. From gameplay comments and conversations, Cal is very clearly so enamored with Merrin and literally everything about her. I know it's become a bit of a joke how clearly into her he is but he just thinks she's the most incredible being in the entire galaxy and it's honestly the sweetest thing. The writers could have very easily made his connection to Merrin a weakness or had it where it made his struggle with the darkness harder but I adore that they allowed him to be completely smitten with her and presented it as a strength. It's refreshing not only in Star Wars but in media in general, at least in my opinion. Love being presented as a positive asset is something so deeply missing in media nowadays - especially romantic love. Far too often in this day and age, love is presented as a weakness or something that will only bring you down, so I respect the fuck out of this writing.

Oops, this got really, really long so I'm putting the rest under a cut. It's kind of spitfire, so I apologize if it feels random.

I love how their first kiss is Merrin basically making a split-second decision where she realizes she doesn't want to die without kissing him at least once even if it runs the risk of making things awkward should they survive. Is it cliche as fuck? Absolutely, but it works so well in this instance. Cal being so dumbfounded, gawking at her like a fish, trying to process what the hell just happened that BD has to remind him they're literally about to die is the best thing too.

I appreciate that Cal is so obviously hesitant about giving into any sort of romantic feelings for Merrin because, of course, he would be due to his upbringing. He's pushing so hard against it to the point that he's even completely reluctant to so much as discuss it with Bode when they're on the Lucrehulk. Personally, I don't think Cal is oblivious to their potential feelings for each other. I've never been a huge fan of treating Cal as completely naive. He still might be a bit emotionally stunted, sure but he's lived 10 years outside of the Jedi Order at this point. I think he's hesitant to talk about it because first of all, it's really none of Bode's business but also, if he talks about it, he has to admit it, and if he admits it, that makes it real, and if it's real... well fuck, now he has to do something about it either way which is exactly what he's trying to avoid. I think he's trying to stay as neutral about it as he can until he gets to a point in the story/his arc where he decides he actually wants or feels ready to make a decision. Bode almost gets it out of him too before they're interrupted. The progression of Bode's questioning during that mission is something I actually find really interesting but that's a different topic.

Many people have pointed this out but Cal smiling so brightly while Merrin is clearly freaking the fuck out of Bode is just the cutest thing. Not only because he finds such humor in her scaring the shit out of people for fun when he of all people knows it's a running joke but he also goes along with the joke any chance he gets. He does this even when she's not around. People will be freaked out by her and he still plays along and it's not even like, "Yeah, I know, she's fucking scary bro," it's more like, "Yeah, I know, she can wake the dead, isn't it amazing how scary she is!" Someone else already pointed this out in another post but that feels almost more intimate than any kiss they share. His attraction to her encompasses all sides of her including those that many people find incredibly terrifying and I find that so endearing, he wouldn't ask her to change for anything. He's the only person who genuinely isn't freaked out by her in the slightest but not only that, he finds that side of her to be so incredible. Also, Cal being so blase with Bode about his obvious attraction to Merrin a mission prior and then having the most blatant sexual tension with her in front of Bode in the next scene is peak comedy, I don't care what anybody says. Like, Cal, honey, you just spent the entire previous mission trying to convince Bode (and yourself) there's nothing there and/or you're not pursuing it, so you're not doing yourself any favors by looking at her like that, standing that close to her, and speaking to her with the cadence of a lover bro.

I love that the second Cal walks onto the Mantis after killing Rayvis, she instantaneously picks up on the fact that something's wrong. Literally instantaneously. You can see her face drop the moment she sees him. She just knows something happened. Her ability to read him insanely well is something that is introduced very early on in the game, most noticeably in the campfire scene, and it stays consistent over the course of the story. The following conversation they have is honestly one of the best moments between them in the entire game. It's this type of conversation I've been wanting to see with a Jedi and their potential lover since Revenge of the Sith. He is so open with her even in a somewhat roundabout way about his genuine fear of losing himself and while the conversation is not explicitly about their relationship, the implication is still there and she 100% picks up on it, especially since he wonders aloud why Santari didn't see the change in Dagan before it was too late. Instead of shaming him for his reservations or calling it ridiculous or anything else she could have said at this moment, she instead decides to possibly help curb those fears and give him some comfort regarding it. She goes on to basically tell him in so few words she knows what she's signing up for and is willing to cross those bridges with him if they come. It's a great difference between Cal and Dagan. Though it's never outright stated that Dagan and Santari were in love, I feel like it's... pretty heavily implied, or at least he was definitely in love with her (was I the only one who read it that way??) but whereas Dagan demands that Santari talk him away from the darkness and seems to almost expect her to, Merrin herself plainly offers to do it with no prodding on Cal's part. It doesn't seem to be a burden Cal wanted to put on her, not something he was inherently expecting of her but she willingly offers, it is her choice, she wants to carry that burden with him. While she does seem maybe slightly annoyed by his hesitancy regarding their relationship to each other, she is also so incredibly patient with him while he's stewing over what he wants to do. It's beautiful. As a side note, "A shared dream is not so easy to wake from," is such an amazing line. Seriously, I want merch with that quote on it.

I liked that going through with the relationship was Cal's choice in the end. Merrin didn't push it, she didn't pressure it. She let him bring it up and come to her when he was ready and if that meant potentially being rejected by a man she very clearly adores, so be it, and I have no doubt she would've respected that choice if that's what he'd wanted. I know a lot of people seem to think he only makes this decision due to Bode's questions earlier but it really seems to be a combination of multiple things that lead to this. Bode picking his brain definitely got him thinking about it, maybe more than he wanted to, but I do think the other big part of Cal being willing to go forward with it at this moment is his confrontation with Dagan that, while an illusion, did cause him to come to grips with his own mortality in a way. "How does it feel knowing you're about to die. That your life meant nothing." As Cal says, Dagan uses an extremely powerful force hallucination based on fear here, so while losing himself to the darkness might scare him, his life being completely meaningless is what he seems to fear the most. Cal's journey throughout Survivor encompasses many things but one of them revolves around feeling aimless and finding a purpose, preferably outside of being a hired weapon that will surely and slowly consume him. It's what everyone consistently tells him: find a home, settle down, embrace happiness because it's fleeting, the path you're on is not healthy and will consume you otherwise...etc. His decision here to give in to his romantic attraction to Merrin is a culmination of all of these interactions and conversations he's had throughout the story, how they've influenced his line of thinking, and him coming to his own conclusions regarding what he personally wants and at this moment, when things are finally, calm and everyone is in a good place with a plan going forward, he personally decides there's no point in living up to the expectations of the Jedi when the Order doesn't exist anymore and wants to see where this could go.

I love the fact that when Merrin witnesses Cal's darkness in the ISB, it's made abundantly clear that she's just as afraid of losing him as he most likely is of losing her. I do think a major reason why she was able to talk him down at the moment is that he fundamentally understands what it feels like to lose everything and everyone, your entire livelihood. That is what they first bonded over and it's something that keeps them bonded in the saddest, yet most profound way and he would never want to add himself to the list of people she's lost. She's also doing exactly what she said she would. In an instance where again, she reads him like a fucking book, she can tell just from his responses on the intercom that he's losing himself and is guiding him back. She immediately went to rescue him as she says. No question, no argument, nothing, she simply does it. She made him a promise and she kept it and in that moment, he promises that she won't lose him, he won't allow it. This is a fundamental difference between Anakin and Padme's dynamic and Cal and Merrin's. While Anakin's love for Padme quite famously ends up extremely selfish in an "I would lose myself to ensure you're not ripped away from me" type of way, Cal and Merrin's dynamic is leaning towards a more selfless, "I won't allow myself to be lost because I can't let that happen for your sake," type of way and god damn it, I love it.

There are several interactions they have in gameplay that I'm lowkey peeved weren't included in cutscenes and one of them is when Cal returns to the Mantis after all but demolishing the ISB, they have this really short but great interaction where Merrin says that if he ever feels that way again, he needs to tell her. She doesn't even ask him to do it, she all but demands it, "If you feel that way again, you will tell me." She's demanding communication from him regarding the darkness and he doesn't fight this demand at all. He agrees to respect this request and I fucking love that from both of them. I will genuinely be kinda upset if we don't get a moment like that in the next game.

I like how their kiss after they've successfully navigated the abyss is kind of their first kiss inverted but instead of "omg we might die, I need to kiss you" it's more "holy shit, we survived, I need to kiss you," but instead of Merrin initiating, now it's Cal. I'm probably reading too much into that but whatever, it's cute.

This isn't about any one part in particular but I do love that it looks like the headcanon so many people had regarding Merrin most likely being quite physically affectionate is turning out to be true.

...I think that's enough for now lol I might add on some things later

Apologies for any typos and thanks for indulging my rambling if you got this far.

#star wars #jedi survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #cal kestis #nightsister merrin #merrical #calmerrin #cal x merrin #dagan gera #santari khri #bode akuna #mine

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Freud Said We Should Fuck [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left and Right (@shakespearesdaughters) Center (@hotchs-big-hands)

Prompt: When Aaron makes a Freudian slip on the jet, he and the reader get flushed, and later, once the case is finished, the reader finds him in his office on a lonely Saturday and teases him about it. Aka, when the reader and Hotch do something in his office other than paperwork. 

Pairing: Aaron x fem BAU-reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: Fluff/angst/smut 

Word Count: 9.9K 

A/N: Hi loves! First off, this story is 18+, minors DNI. Please respect this boundary. I’m finally back writing again and I’m so happy about it. However, I feel like it’s going to take me a bit to get back into the swing of things. I had a lot of my AU written and then I just thought it was moving too slow. So I’ve put that on hold for a bit and gone back to what I love smut. I don’t think the sex here is the best I’ve ever written, but I still like it. This idea came about because @silk-spun and I were chatting about Aaron and office sex and I couldn’t stop thinking about it - so naturally I wrote it. Please have a look at the notes before reading as there are some things that some plot points that some readers might want to avoid. I hope you like this and if you do, likes, comments, and replies are appreciated! Content Warnings under the cut. I hope you are having a good week. Love Levi - ❤️

Content Warnings: There are two unsubs mentioned in this fic: The one most talked about is a family annihilator [There are mentions of wives and children being killed, depiction of dead bodies, description of a bloody room,  mention of suicide via gun (unsub)] The second unsub kills at random [There are mentions of poisoning, falling to one’s death and drowning (the body is briefly described)] Mention of past trauma and abuse [Hotch] and the mention of an absent father. There is also sex: touching over the clothes, sex in a semi-public setting [Hotch’s office] fellatio, p in v (unprotected] Very slight dom vibes from the reader and Hotch and the slightest mention of a size kink. If I missed any, please let me know. 

List with all stories 

_y/n_ = your name

_c/t_ = coffee or tea (whichever you prefer) 

_u/sf/d_ = up/straight forward/down (depending on height). 

_s/l_ = short or long 

_kl/s/m_ = knee length/short/mini (pick your favorite skirt length)

_y/f/c/s_ = your favorite color and style (bra)

_y/f/t/f_= your favorite type of food

The team sat in the jet as they moved toward Evansville Indiana. The skilled agents were bantering ideas off of each other, as they normally did. This unsub was very blatant with their modus operandi. As Aaron had debriefed in the conference room an hour earlier with the team and Garcia, he said, “The unsub we’re dealing with allegedly has three distinct personalities. Although I would be hesitant to diagnose anyone with a split personality disorder or DID. Many people with this condition are stigmatized due to the negative stereotypes associated with that name. If our unsub does have this condition, then we work from there. But with what we know now, this might just be a part of the ritual and pattern. The police are adamant that it’s a suspect from a mental hospital, but be wary of this. J.J. I want you to cut this off at the bud as soon as we get to the station. The media liaison nodded and replied, “You got it Hotch. I’ll clear that up and make sure they haven’t come up with any nicknames either. That always gets the press in a stir.” Aaron nodded. There wasn’t time for that kind of coverage right now. The team needed to jump in immediately once they touched down. This unsub had a swift turnaround time, killing in heinous and various ways almost every other night. His signature was that at the body of each victim, the unsub left a note from either the Id, the Ego, or the Superego, and by how killing his victims, the unsub had ‘cured them,’ and how the cure had worked. The killer's notes were reminiscent of Freud’s case notes, detailed and a bit deranged. The methods of death had been drowning, poisoning, being drowned, and most recently a fatal fall from a high cliff on a popular walking trail. _y/n_ had cringed at the sight of the drowned victim’s bloated body. It was blue and purple from its extended time in the water. The poisoned victim didn’t look any better. As was usual with BAU cases, the victims had suffered significantly before their deaths. _y/n_ had asked the group as a whole once the note element came out, “Is this guy serious? I mean, Freud is more infamous than famous at this point. His clients were all wealthy Swiss members of society, and he was ridiculed later in life for changing his theories all the time. I mean, how many Fruedians are still honestly out there?” Spencer happily replied, “In terms of clinical, licensed therapists? I’d say very few. Probably around 0.5 percent at this point. But that doesn’t mean that psychoanalysis isn’t still used in a good deal of therapeutic systems. I mean ‘Talk Therapy’ is the norm in most EBT therapy systems. So although Freud and Heidegger might have faded to obscurity, their theories remain.” Hotch had nodded and said stoically, “Wheels up in thirty. We can continue this discussion on the plane. If the unsub sticks to his pattern. They might have a new victim already.” 

Thus the team, plus Penelope were on the plane like normal. Once the jet hit cruising altitude, the team seemed to relax a bit They all fell into their usual clusters, and Hotch observed them. _y/n_, Rossi, and Spencer were continuing the psychological aspect of the case with _y/n_, while Em, Derek, and Garcia talked about the victimology and methods of the murders. Lastly, JJ was writing up a short press brief for the police and the public. Aaron knew we could never be thankful enough for the work that JJ did for the team. She covered their backs more than he could ever imagine. It was hard enough doing the job they did, but having JJ backing them up meant they weren’t smeared in the press even more. Hotch made his way to her. He sat on the seat next to hers and looked over her work. The blond woman handed him a notebook page with her statement from the police force. She said, “This is what I’ve got so far. If you have any more legal or profiler things you’d like me to add, just note them in the margins.” The woman handed him a blue ballpoint pen, and Hotch did his best to look carefully and thoroughly over the short blurb. He added a few police procedural things, but otherwise, it looked good. Aaron pushed the paper back on the small table and said, “Looks good J. I just added a few notes. Let me know when you have the one for the public done, and look it over too.” JJ looked up at him as he stood and said, “You got it Hotch. And I’ll make those corrections after I’m done with this.” Aaron then moved to Em, Morgan, and Garcia. They were looking at a map both on the seat and on Penelope's computer. Derek and Em were pinpointing the sites of the victim's body on the physical map while Garcia did the same on her laptop. The trio was trying to make a geographic profile and also see if the sites were linked to a road, river, or some natural feature. All three victims had been found in parks or locations adjacent to parks. As Hotch looked over the map, Emily said, “Given the natural locations of the dump sites and how well-versed the unsub seems to be with local and national parks in the area, this person may be a game warden or resource officer or something like that. Those positions are often isolating and not well-paid. Maybe the unsub has emotions tied to their work. That they’re not achieving enough, or making enough of an impact?” Hotch nodded at the logic of her statement and said to Garcia, “Once you’ve done that work, Garcia, look up the databases for Park Service workers and Game Wardens and make a preliminary risk. Target those who work in the parks where the victims were found and those that have been having problems at work or have had problems at work in the last two months.” Garcia loved getting directions from Aaron. She always thought that his brain was close to hers, except that he was just the quiet version of her. She smiled and said, “Aye, aye captain. Coming right up.” Aaron gave Garcia a small smile and said, “Thanks Penelope.” 

Aaron got up again. Before he moved to the last group, he was going to get a cup of coffee for himself _c/t_  for _y/n_. It was their ritual on the plane now. When they were in the office, _y/n_ got him coffee from the breakroom, and when they were on the jet, he got her drink. Aaron’s and _y/n_ relationship had moved from a strong friendship to a light romance, to, in the last six months, a much more heated and sexual affair. Of course, neither of them could say, and much less do anything while they were at work but show small gestures of affection for the other. Aaron and _y/n_ were both professional and could easily keep their relationship work-coded. That didn’t however, mean that Hotch didn’t think about the things they did off the clock. The sound of _y/n_’s bright laugh had his mind reeling back to last weekend. It had been a lazy Saturday morning at his place. She had mentioned getting a snack from the coffee shop down the street before going on a walk in the park or going to get a new book for Jack, who was currently at Haley’s. Aaron had sleepily said something like, “I think you’re enough of a snack as it is, _y/n_” as he rolled onto his back.

There was a moment of silence before _y/n_ started softly laughing. Hotch moved his eyes to her. He expected her to stop laughing after a minute, but his gaze only had her laughing more loudly. She was nearly in stitches as her mirth overflowed. Hotch, not quite sure what had caused her to be so joyful,  poked her side and said, “Alright, I give up. What’s so funny? Is my breath bad or something?” Even as Hotch asked, he couldn’t stop himself from starting to laugh too. This was something unique with _y/n_. She allowed him to open up emotionally in ways that he rarely even had. After _y/n_ had caught her breath she said, “Is that your attempt at dirty talk Hotch? If so you need to take a course.” Aaron scoffed at that and said teasingly, “I’ll make you eat those words _y/n_.” As he finished that sentence, he leaned over her and kissed her. He started lightly but became more intense as _y/n_ ran her tongue over his bottom lip. Soon enough, he was undoing the buttons of her night shift and moving his mouth lazily downward with _y/n_ saying his name breathily every time he nipped her skin lightly with his mouth. His breath was hot on the cool expanse of her body. Aaron realized as he started to make the encounter more intimate and relished in how her body responded to his.

Hotch knew that apart from being with _y/n_, he was about as closed off as human could be, and he knew it. His past as a child had inherently shown him that weakness meant pain and suffering and as hard as he had tried to grow out of that, he still had some of those mental barriers up, and they often rose when he was in situations that dealt with lots of emotions. Often he found himself unable to reciprocate. That was part of the reason that he assumed that he was so good at being a prosecutor and a profiler. People’s emotions, whether they be the unsub’s or the victim’s didn’t cause him to bluster, or lose sight of the bigger picture. He was sympathetic to the victims and listened to them with sincerity, but their pain often didn’t affect him the way it did _y/n_. This was the reason that after he spoke to the various victims, he would direct them over to _y/n_ to talk further. So they could cry unabashedly and have someone to hold them tight as they did so. Often Aaron would catch her eyes as they made the silent trade-off. There was always a silent conversation that happened in these looks. It was Aaron saying, ‘Thank you,’ and _y/n_ responded, ‘I got you.’ With time Aaron had slowly started dropping those barriers with _y/n_. She made him feel more human. More intact with his emotions such as joy and the ability to do the unexpected. Things and emotions which he had hidden inside himself a long time ago. The first time that Aaron had been very open to _y/n_ was the first time that he realized that he might have deeper feelings for _y/n_ than respect or camaraderie. 

It had been a difficult case. One of the worst. The unsub had been a family annihilator. The man, Mr. Platheville, was targeting young families with only one child. The madman had killed two mothers and their children leaving the fathers to watch in horror and live with the site of the massacre they had witnessed. The first man they had found was shell-shocked and unable to move. An ambulance and mental health experts had been called for him. The next man had been so angry that Hotch and Derek had to hold the man back from hitting and punching himself or the wall or anyone within striking distance. _y/n_ had watched on with apprehension, trying to calm the man down with her words. Although those two cases had been horrible, it was nothing compared to the last. The unsub had called and said where he was and that he had another family hostage. There were audible screams on the other side of the phone. Mr. Plathville had said, “Come quickly. Please. I can’t stop myself anymore.” At first, the team felt like this was a good step. A great step even. The man was giving himself up and asking for help. However, as the tapped line was about to be disconnected, a child’s voice cut in. It sounded scared and small as it said, “Daddy? What’s wrong with Mommy?” That had the whole team freeze. The realization that Plathville had his own family captive now had the team feel like the floor was dropping out from under them -- everyone’s stomach sinking into knots. Hotch dropped the phone first and softly said, “Everyone, move, now.” After a second, he found his voice and said loudly, authoritatively, “Move. Now.” Aaron started running to the van, and he watched as his team followed him to both his car and the other SUV. _y/n_ and Rossi piled into Hotch’s car and hurriedly buckled as Hotch hit the gas pedal. The rubber tires squealed and burned on the concrete. _y/n_ had snatched the passenger seat in the front. Hotch’s jaw was set in a tight grimace as he sped down the road. His driving was close to erratic. It wasn’t something _y/n_ had seen in him before. _y/n_’s eyes found Rossi’s in the review mirror. The older man also looked a bit concerned as well. Gently, _y/n_ placed a hand on Aaron’s upper arm. She could feel the muscle tight under his sleeve as his hands gripped the wheel. At her touch, Hotch’s eyes briefly left the road and met hers. Whatever expression she had on her face was enough to slow his driving speed. For him to pay closer attention to the road. 

Hotch was making her nervous. He didn’t seem like himself, but she didn’t say anything. There would be time for that later. The vans came to a raging halt outside the address that Plathville had disclosed. The house seemed quiet. Eerily so. Derek and Hotch approached the door softly. Derek breached the door and the team rushed inside. The front foyer was dark and there was no sound reverberating around the open area. The team fanned out in the ranch-style house. Derek and Spencer moved to the left side of the house toward the kitchen and guest bedroom. Rossi and Emily took the upstairs, and Hotch and _y/n_ moved left toward the living room and master bedroom. The other families had been found in the living room, and _y/n_ braced herself for a similar scene. Hotch’s shoulders tensed as he moved into the entryway of the living room. It meant that this family was already dead too. _y/n_ felt a part of her break inside, but she pulled the pieces back together for the team. For those who had passed. Both agents stepped into the room. The fact that the walls, carpet, and sofa were cream-colored only highlighted the dark splatters marring the walls, couch, and carpet which was soaked with a dark stain. _y/n_ pointed to the light switch and mouthed, “Should I turn it on?” Hotch nodded his head no and inclined this head toward the bedroom door, indicating that Mr. Plathville might still be in the bedroom. It was the only space they hadn’t breached. If Plathville was still in the house either alive or dead, it was in that room. As the calls of Spencer and Emily echoed through the house stating, “Clear,”  a small sound came from behind the closed door. Both agents' eyes snapped to the door, and they moved forward. Once they got to the door. Aaron held out a hand to stop her. He shook his head no. He leaned forward and whispered, “Go look at the bodies. And then stop the rest of the team from entering the living room.” _y/n_ met his dark eyes. They seemed to go on forever. He had the look he had before when the child had spoken on the phone. The same look he had had in the car. _y/n_ desperately wanted to know what was going on in his head, but again, now wasn’t the time. _y/n_ nodded and moved back from the door. She moved to the two bodies on the floor but continued to watch as Aaron opened the door, stepped inside, and said, “Mr. Plathville. Don’t do this. Do you think this is the ending your wife and daughter would have wanted for you?” Hotch closed the door behind him, leaving the room in semi-darkness. Hotch could hear soft movement from the other side of the door. It was _y/n_ and it sounded like she was crying. Aaron pushed aside the soft sounds and focused only on Plathville. The cold metal weapon the unsub was holding in his dominant hand wasn’t pointed in any direction, but it could be in an instant. Hotch didn’t want _y/n_ in the room. Because Aaron knew family annihilators, he knew them because he lived with one of them as a child. As an adult, once he learned the proper terms for killers and sadists, he realized that if he hadn’t taken the brunt of what his father doled out, his own father might have been a Plathville as well. Aaron didn’t want _y/n_ to see what might happen. He didn’t want her to see this. Hotch put up his hands and said, “Put down the gun Mr. Plathville. You’ve been a coward with how you’ve treated others because they didn’t do what you liked. Don’t be a coward now, at the end. Face what you’ve done and prove that you’re actually a man.” 

The unsub, eyes dark and glazed looked like he was about to set the gun on the bed. Aaron hoped that was what he was doing, but he didn’t trust the man either. Just as the gun seemed to be safe, Plathville turned the weapon on himself. Outside the closed door, _y/n_ heard a very loud bang. A deafening sound. At this point, _y/n was standing by the hallway with Derek. Em, and Rossi. She was doing her best to keep the three other agents at bay. When the BAU team heard the gunshot, they all rushed back into the room. Derek drew his sidearm as they all did and breached the door. _y/n_’s heart pounded in her chest because she had left him alone. Alone with an unsub who they knew had a gun; and if Aaron was dead, she would never be able to forgive herself. Not for all time. As the team rushed into the room. Hotch’s strong profile stood out against the window. His nose and jawline were distinct against the streetlight that seeped light into the room through the casement window. Aaron seemed frozen on the spot and the still and bloodied body of Mr. Plathville was slumped on the bed. _y/n_ moved forward and avoided her gaze from the new body. She took Aaron’s arm and pulled him out of the room. Not just the room but the house as well. She sensed that he needed the space away from the darkness emanating from the home. The graveyard. 

When they were at the side of the house opposite the bedroom, _y/n_ stopped. She looked down at his shoes, they had blood splatters on the toe. She looked _u/sf/d_ at him. His face was also splattered with blood. _y/n_ reached over, pulling the cuff of her white sleeve over her palm; she started wiping away the viscous red fluid from his sharp facial features. _y/n_ reflected for a moment on how attractive Aaron really was, with his stoicism and strong jaw, and how terrible a time it was for such thoughts to surface. _y/n_ pushed them away as Hotch seemed to come to himself, as she moved her hand to the other side of his face. The blood smears here were larger. There was other matter that _y/n_ would rather not speculate on. Aaron’s left hand raised and pushed her own dirtied sleeve away from his face. Hotch seemed to take a small breath, and he looked like a child who had been caught doing something wrong. _y/n_ wondered if it was his showing emotion out in the open that he perceived as being bad. She looked back at him before he seemingly crumpled into _y/n_’s arms. Low sobs reverberated on her shoulder. Tears staining _y/n_’s already soiled shirt. _y/n_ was grateful the police cruisers were on the other side of the house. Parked on the gravel drive. _y/n_knew that they would have to move soon or else the team would come looking for them. She was sure Hotch would not want to be found in such a compromised state.

_y/n_ didn’t know what else to say than, “I’m sorry Hotch. I know it’s sick and fucked up, but at least there’s no one else he can hurt. Not even himself.” And it was true. It burned _y/n_ that Mr. Plathville would face no consequences for his crimes of passion, but when an unsub took the end into their own hands, there was a certain finality to the matter. There would be fewer interviews and less press. There wouldn’t be a trial or the need for written testimony from everyone involved. It felt like a twisted prize for a game no one had asked to play. After a moment, Aaron replied softly, “It’s not that. Or it is that and some other stuff. I don’t know why I’m like this. I’m sorry.” _y/n_ frowned and pulled away a bit. Hotch looked at her with eyes asking, begging for her to stay. She took his right hand which was hanging limply at his side and said, “Let’s just walk down the drive and back. It will give you a moment to compose yourself. Get your thoughts in order. “Aaron seemed to hesitate and said, “But the police… the team, they might.” _y/n_ cut him off gently saying, “They can wait. The cops have plenty of people to interview and material to bag and tag. They can wait while we take a five-minute walk. 

_y/n_ found that walking got people talking. Particularly if the people were not wanting to open up. The movement and change of scenery seemed to give whomever she was walking with a breather and a chance to let out some thoughts if they wanted. If they didn’t, then at least they’d both gotten some fresh air. This technique had worked with Morgan, JJ, and Em. I had not worked with Spencer, but Spencer spoke so freely all the time that if he had something he didn’t want to share, then he didn’t want to share, and she understood that. This was the first time she was trying this method on Aaron. As they made it halfway up the drive, and not so much to her shock, Hotch let out a sigh and said, “It was Jack’s birthday yesterday…” _y/n_ looked over to him briefly. His eyes were on the ground, Glued to it. She knew that wasn’t the whole issue, but _y/n_ replied, “I’m sorry you had to miss that for this mess.”

They kept walking. and Aaron let out another breath and continued, “When I see people like Plathville, I see my father. I see a bit of myself in him as well.” _y/n_ furrowed her brow and turned to look at him, walking backward, matching his pace. She didn’t know a lot about Hotch’s father apart from the fact that he was dead and had hurt Aaron very badly. Perhaps she could see a correlation there between the unsub and Hotchner Sr., but she couldn’t see how Hotch was at all like either man. She asked for clarity saying, “What do you mean? I don’t see how you’re like either of those monsters. You’re tied to your father by blood, but he’s gone.” Aaron looked at her and then back down the dark path they were on. A lone streetlamp shone at the end of the road. They reached it and turned back before Aaron said, “It’s a pattern. They were both absent fathers. They both lashed out at things and people. And look at me. I hardly see Jack. It feels like once in a blue moon. And I might not be lashing out at people because my job takes out that stress. But look at me in the office, I’m still anal about things. I just see these patterns. I don’t want to fail as a father, and I feel like I am.” And there it was. There was the crux of his emotions and _y/n_ ached for his pain, for his fear, even if it seemed unfounded to her. It certainly wasn’t unfounded to him, and she’d never say that. As they moved back toward the house. _y/n_ was wording and rewording her response again and again in her head; she couldn’t quite seem to come up with the perfect response. It all sounded too close to “I love you and other people love you too, can’t you see that?” She felt the hairs picked up on the back of her neck and she looked over to Aaron. He was staring at her, Asking for some kind of reply. They were near the house again and she stopped, and he stopped too. Now _y/n_ gave a sigh, her breath making a little cloud in front of her face. She finally replied, “Aaron, I don’t know what this is going to sound like to you, but here it is. I think you’re tired. I haven’t seen you sleep in three days straight because this case is so close to you. It’s close because it involves a group of people who can’t protect themselves, or their children. And I think in some ways after Haley filed, you think that you can’t protect her or Jack either. But Aaron, you’ve handled everything there with as much grace and compassion as you could. You did what Haley wanted and you still try and look after them. And maybe you don’t see Jack as often as you like, but you try. I hear you call him at night when the team’s away. And the stories you tell about when he spends the weekends over make it sound like you don’t just shower him with gifts or love bomb him. You’re trying to have a relationship with him. And I never hear you badmouth Haley, ever, which means your son can know that not all relationships work out but there can still be a kind of love and respect. A lot of kids don’t get that.” _y/n_ took a breath and she saw in his eyes that he was coming more to himself, as she finished stating, “And about you being like your father, yeah, genes are passed down, but I don’t believe that people are born bad. I think something bad happens to them and you either continue the cycle or break it. And you’re far too kind of a person, even if you don’t show it, to keep doing what you’re father did. You’d never do those things to another person. You’re not him Hotch. You never will be.”

_y/n_ looked at him to see what his reaction to her words would be. Aaron looked like he might cry again, but was holding back those emotions. She hoped she hadn’t overstepped some emotional or professional line, but she didn’t have time to ask as Hotch stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. His warm body enveloped her in the cold night. His breath fanned the _s/l_ hair at the nape of her neck. He whispered, “Thank you for that, _y/n_. I needed to hear that.” When Aaron pulled back, he was himself again. He nodded and motioned his head toward the house. As he attempted to move forward, _y/n_ grabbed his coat sleeve, and he looked at her confused. _y/n_ said, “Wipe the left side of your face Hotch. It’s still bloody.” Aaron rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. They both started walking back to the house, and he wiped off his face. As they walked back, there was an understanding that something deeper had happened between them. As Aaron moved past the cruisers with red and blue lights still flashing,  he raised the caution tape for _y/n_, and as she stepped under it. Aaron looked at her and felt a warmth seep through him. It bit through the cold outside, and he didn’t mind it. 

Aaron pulled his mind out of the haze that was focused on the sounds that _y/n_ had made last Saturday morning. Her moans and whimpers rang in his ears for a second longer. He was thankfully snapped back to the interior of the jet as a bit of turbulence rocked the aircraft. Aaron cleared his throat and moved to the coffee maker. He made himself a cup of black coffee first. He shot a prayer up to any possible deity up there that his body and mind had not synced enough for him to be aroused by his mind's inappropriate wandering. Having to hide an erection wasn’t his idea of a fun time. It had happened once or twice before and he had to rush to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face and neck. When Hotch’s cup was done, he moved another clean styrofoam cup under the dispenser and started making _y/n_’s _t/c_. He stifled a yawn. He had spent much of the last two days working on field reports and revising the FBI’s security training. It was woefully behind the times. He had coordinated with Penelope and as helpful as Garcia was in terms of the technological aspects of cyber security, the lingo and Pen’s energy had worn him out a bit. The Keurig beeped, indicating _y/n_’s drink was done. He doctored the beverage as she liked. Aaron half blamed his wandering mind on his lack of sleep and the case. Spencer’s clear voice cut through all the others and he was talking about the more interesting sexual elements of Freud’s theories including the more lurid Oedipus and Xena complexes. Reid was going on about how the notes from the unsub seemed to really dive into those theories even though there was no sexual aspect to the case yet. Hotch grabbed _y/n_’s cup and moved back to the final group he had not spoken with yet. 

He sat next to _y/n_ and handed her her cup. _y/n_ looked at Hotch and gave him a small smile before taking a sip of her drink. _y/n_ had a random thought, as she mulled over the bizarre nature of the case. She said aloud, “What do you think Freud would think about people using his theories like this? I mean he was odd and problematic, but not that odd.” Aaron had his eyes closed, and he replied without even thinking said, “I think Freud would say we should fuck.” _y/n_ nearly spat out her drink. The liquid burned her throat as it went down. Hotch caught his mistake and flushed, quickly amending his statement saying, “I mean if Freud were still here, he would probably think the unsub would want to have intercourse with his victims. It could either be latent sexual attraction or transference of sexual desire for an authority figure like a parent or teacher. An attraction that shouldn’t be acted out.” Hotch could feel his ears burning, and he hid his face by taking a long drink of his coffee. The dark liquid burned his mouth but this pain was better than having to face to look of utter shock of his friends. Thankfully the awkwardness only lasted a second longer as Spencer picked up on his hurried line of thinking saying, “You could be right. This unsub might be impotent and killing as a means of sexual release. Or they could be killing as a displacement tactic for unwanted feelings.” Reid jumped into that conversation with a fervor and _y/n_ added her thoughts in too along with taking some notes on the comments Spence made.

Although Spencer didn’t choose to comment on what Hotch had said, when the Unit Chief looked over at Rossi, his friend had an eyebrow raised and an expression that said, “Really, Aaron?” Hotch closed his eyes, sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyelids as if saying, “I’m tired. Alright?” When Aaron opened his eyes again, Rossi just gave a little shrug as if saying, “Hey. I have three ex-wives. I’m not one to judge.” The older man ever so slightly looked over to _y/n_ and gave a small smile. The team knew that Hotch was seeing _y/n_. They were all too perceptive not to tell. But what he had just said was more personal than the team needed to know. At least not yet. Aaron liked keeping his private life private, and he would have to apologize to _y/n_ for putting their personal business out there like that. He was just thankful that he had made that slip of the tongue in front of Spencer and Dave and not Morgan and Garcia. There would be no end to the gossip if that had been the case. Aaron sat back in his seat and did his best to put back on the Unit Chief facade. One great thing was that he was able to compartmentalize his emotions and what had just happened was just a blunder. He fell easily back into the conversation and made himself useful to the team. 

The case was a wild one with the team being kept on their feet, as the unsub devolved into crazier and more complex kills. Thankfully the unsub, one Kathy Kittery got sloppy as her mind crumbled under the weight of her own brain. Thus, only one other victim was lost, the others, though traumatized would make it through the ordeal. Ms. Kittery was a therapist who had had her license revoked after having an affair with a client. Once she had taken that blow, she had moved to a second career that had always interested her. Being a Ranger in a State Park. However, as it turned out, the mental isolation did not help with her already troubled state and she had slipped into acting on her delusions, thus the need for the team to come in the first place. After the unsub had been arrested, the team, as normal, was assured that she wouldn’t be seeing freedom for a good long while. On the jet home, Aaron’s sexual comment was almost forgotten by everyone, including himself, but _y/n_ remembered and as she closed her eyes to sleep on the short flight back, her brain played out certain scenarios that she also wouldn’t want to be voiced in front of the others. When the jet touched down, the team disembarked and _y/n_ asked Aaron as they walked back to the main office, “So, what are you doing tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Saturday and she hoped that they could spend the day together or with Jack if he was staying over at Hotch’s that weekend. It felt like a while since they had had a good day to themselves. Work had piled up, and she longed for just a few solid hours with Aaron. Hotch, however, didn’t seem to pick up on her tone as he was tired. He replied in a monotone, “Probably filling out paperwork in the office I’m behind on like three cases worth and this makes a fourth.” _y/n_ pouted slightly. She knew she was being silly, but sometimes Aaron needed a break for his own good, and an idea started brewing in the back of her mind. If she had the nerve to do even half of what her head was cooking up, she would have done something she had been imagining for a long time. Longer than was appropriate probably. For the moment she just said, “Mhm. Sounds productive.” Hotch scoffed as they both entered the sliding glass door. Even he knew his life, and particularly weekends sounded miserable sometimes. After all, he was the one that put him through them. 

The next afternoon, _y/n_ pulled up to the Quantico field office. She parked her car next to Aaron’s and set her employee parking pass on the dash so it could be seen by security.  _y/n_ chuckled remembering the one time that Derek had forgotten his pass and had his Corvette towed on a Saturday. Her athletic friend had been so flustered, saying, “Oh come on! I work at the freaking FBI you’d think there would be some camera’s in this lot and they’d know I work here!” _y/n_ had laughed, patted his shoulder, and offered him a ride to the impound lot to pick up his flashy car. As _y/n_ moved through the mostly empty lot she smiled. Not that she expected there to be a lot of people at the office on a Saturday afternoon, but it boded well for what she had in mind. As entered the office and was waived through security quickly, she hadn’t brought her gun or anything important with her. She entered the bullpen and looked up at Hotch’s office. His lights were on and she could see him looking at something on his desk. It was most likely a field report. The bullpen was empty and most of the lamps on the desks were off. One or two burned brightly in the soft space. One or two of the agents must have forgotten to turn them off in the rush to get home on Friday. She turned off the lamps as she texted Aaron, “Hey, you at the office?” She looked up at his office window and his head turned to the side. Clearly, he had just received her message. His left hand raised and a second later her phone beeped. Hotch had sent back a simple “Yes.” He was never one to be overly elaborate over text. If he was forced to type more than one full paragraph he would just give up and call instead. _y/n_ always chalked it up to his hands being too big for the small phone screen. He probably made a lot of accidental typos with his thumbs and had to go back and correct them which seemed like a thing that would annoy him to no end, even if he did have autocorrect on his phone. _y/n_ took a breath as she looked at Aaron again. He was back to his paper. _y/n_ had jokingly said she would do this if the spirit led her, but somehow seemed like the dirty things she was picturing in her head were driving her up the stairs and not ‘the spirit.’ Outside Hotch’s door, she knocked once and then turned the knob. She stepped into the dimly lit room and closed the door behind her. She softly said, “Hey Hotch, how are the papers going?” Aaron looked up from his desk. He did a bit of a double take as his eyes flicked to his phone and then back to her. His eyes held a hint of surprise, warmth, and general confusion as he said, “_y/n_. What are you doing here? Do you need something?” _y/n_ couldn’t help but flush already. Hotch was just too cute sometimes; especially when he wasn’t trying.

_y/n_ smiled at him and took a seat across from him at his desk. _y/n_ sighed and said, “I was just bored I guess. I had nothing better to do, so why not give you a hand with your paperwork? Maybe I can get you out of here earlier than five p.m. on a Saturday?” Aaron raised a brow. He highly doubted that that was _y/n_’s only reason for being here, but he wouldn’t question her. Instead, he picked up a case file, and set it in front of her saying, “Suit yourself, love.” _y/n_ flushed again and pulled one of Aaron’s ballpoint pens out of the cup he kept a stash in. _y/n_ wondered how many pens he dried up per year, but wasn’t in the mood for calculus problems right now. Instead, she opened the file and started working on the first page. She had to take it for at least ten minutes before she made a move. _y/n_ assumed if she outright said, “Hey wanna have sex in your office there would be two simultaneous outcomes. The first was that she would no longer be Aaron Hotchner’s partner and that she would be a former FBI Behavioral Analyst. Neither of which sounded very appealing. So she took her time. 

When Aaron seemed absorbed in his work again, she slipped off her shoe and moved her foot across the space between her side of the desk and his. It was a bit of a reach, but she managed to brush Aaron’s ankle and the inside of his trouser leg. That did it and Aaron’s eyes snapped to hers. They were dark, hiding emotions that he often kept at bay. He cleared his throat and said, “_y/n_, really?” You chuckled and said, “Sorry. I just like to see you flustered.” _y/n_ pulled her leg back and Aaron watched as she flushed but returned to her papers. _y/n_ knew he liked it when she was a tease sometimes and that was her plan for this potentially risky act she was trying to have with Hotch. After another ten minutes, _y/n_ repeated the same action, except this time she moved her foot higher up his leg She applied gentle pressure to the inside of his leg. His grey trousers were cool under her foot as they moved up past the knee and onto his inner thigh. Her dark stockings were the only barrier between her skin and the fabric of his pants. _y/n_ looked up at him and he let out a soft breath as if his brain hadn’t caught up with his body yet. When the two entities of mind of body did collide his brows furrowed trying to reconcile the pleasure coursing through his body and the fact that this shouldn’t be happening in his office.

Before he could make any protestation, _y/n_ cut him off saying, “So, ‘Freud said we should fuck’ did he?” This reminder of his slip of the tongue gagged Aaron momentarily. It gave _y/n_ enough time to shift lower in her chair and slip her foot high enough to press over his crotch. Aaron let out a little grunt at the contact. _y/n_ continued to run her foot over his zipper, up and down in a rhythmic pattern. _y/n_ smiled as his eyes grew hazy with desire. A look she’d seen on him often, just not in his office. Never in his office. But she had dreamed about it plenty. She’d woken soaked on occasions with the notion of Aaron having her in his office, blinds drawn tight as they made love in the enclosed space. Aaron stuttered trying to make a coherent sentence, but his cock slowly hardening in his pants was not helping him at all. _y/n_ could feel it under her foot and continued to tease him saying, “You know you really shouldn’t make comments about our sex lives in front of a team of profilers. I think you owe me an apology?” _y/n_ pulled her foot away and Aaron groaned at the loss of contact, but suddenly his mind was more clear. Half of Aaron’s brain cursed _y/n_ for knowing just the right way to turn him on. The other half was already imagining her splayed out on his desk as he ate her out, or pounded into her so hard that the desk left marks on her hips. Those thoughts alone had his member twitch against his belt and fly. To consumed in his thoughts, Aaron slipped off his own left shoe, and perhaps more gently than _y/n_ had, he moved his foot up her leg and to her cunt. _y/n_ opened her legs for him slightly pushing her _kl/s/m_ length skirt up a bit. Even wearing socks, Aaron could tell that _y/n_ was wet. The moan she made as he just brushed over her sex and him realize that he couldn’t wait. That he needed her, now. Hotch took away his foot and reveled in the needy noise _y/n_ also made at the lack of contact. Hotch moved quickly to his door, locking it from the inside before closing the shades to the office. His movements were hasty, jerky even. _y/n_ watched him, knowing the sexual tension must have built up since the last time they had been intimate. 

_y/n_ wasn’t sure what Aaron had in mind but she did have to ask, “There aren’t any hidden cameras in here, right?” Hotch chuckled, the sound was throaty, and he replied, “Not that I know of. And if they are, then at least we’ll both be fired.” _y/n_ laughed at this and took his hand; she led him back to his office chair. _y/n_ appreciated that he had a sense of humor in these moments that were new to him. _y/n_ knew that she pushed him to do things he hadn’t before both in and out of the bedroom, but he never complained and the bulge in his pants told her that he was already looking forward to what she was about to do for him. Aaron looked up at her a bit amazed at the things she could make him do. Never in his life had he thought he would be able to act out his fantasy. _y/n_ leaned down and kissed him softly at first and then with more hunger and ferocity. Aaron reciprocated in turn. As their lips looked in a passionate heated kiss, _y/n_ moved her hands to the belt that kept his trousers in place over his trim hips. It wasn’t as hard as _y/n_ had imagined taking off his belt without looking. The cool metal of the clasp heated against your skin. You moved to his pant’s button and zipper next. _y/n_ didn’t want to wait around anymore and once his grey briefs and thick arousal were freed, _y/n_ started palming his erection with a steady hand. Once her hand started stroking him, Aaron let out a gasp. He opened his mouth enough for her to slip her tongue into his mouth. He breathed in her throat and had her make a small contented noise as she explored the well-known concaves of his mouth. _y/n_ would never consider herself a sex expert, but when it came to new positions or scenarios with intimacy and Hotch, she often found it helpful if she took the lead. Warming him up to the idea. Making him feel comfortable and safe before they kept doing whatever it was they were trying. Oftentimes Aaron would jump on board and take the reigns, which she adored. She loved it when he told her what to do, how to lie. Everything. It was one of Aaron’s most attractive traits.

_y/n_ pulled her mouth away from his and wrapped her hand around his cock, more steadily pumping his length. Aaron said her name as he started moving his hips to meet her pace. His body responded to her touch. _y/n_ smiled at him and moved away for a moment, pushing his chair back enough for her to kneel under his desk. Aaron pushed his hips up and let _y/n_ pull his pants down, exposing his cock to the cold air. Hotch took a few steadying breaths. He knew what was to come, _y/n_ gave some of the best head that he had ever had and the anticipation of her lips on her member had him panting already. He said, “Can you not kneel all the way down like that, love? I want to touch you while you’re dining me?” _y/n_ smiled, relishing the fact that he was already taking a small amount of control of the situation. She nodded and said, “Of course Aaron, anything you ask.” With his request in mind, _y/n_ got up on her knees. It was helpful because she needed the reach to be able to lean over and take his tip in her mouth. She swirled her tongue over the top and slit, sucking at it like some rare candy. Hotch groaned as she moved her head down his length slightly. _y/n_  took in his width and length with surprising ease. He was always surprised by her ability to take him. It only made her more attractive to him. As his head swam with pleasure and endorphins, he moved his own body forward and down a little. His head almost rested on her shoulder as he moved his long arm to feel between her legs and upper thighs. He slid his hand down and over between her skirt. As he started rubbing her clothed sex, _y/n_ moaned over his cock. She took a second before she kept moving her head further down him. Her mouth and tongue doing things to him that almost made him see stars. His left hand kept massaging her wet, clothed folds while his right pushed up her shift and kneaded her breasts in turn over her _y/f/c/a/s_ bra. Aaron could feel her nipples grow rigid under her bra and he moved his hand under the intimate article of clothing that covered her chest. He squeezed her right breast and squeezed her nipple. As _y/n_ started moving her head up and down his whole length, Aaron matched her pace with his hand on her clit, pushing and pulling sensations out of her. It turned out Hotch was so aroused, so excited that he kept moving his hand faster over her sex and clit, and _y/n_ kept up her own pace. Aaron panted and tipped his head back as he released some precome and she moved off him sucking it off of him. As she moved to take him in her mouth again, Aaron stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. _y/n_’s mind and body were also hazy with desire. Her entrance ached to be filled by Hotch more fully. His hand was amazing, but nothing beat him seating himself in her fully and then fucking her to the heavens. 

Aaron could see this desire in her. A desire for him alone. Aaron pulled her onto shaky feet. He stood as well. He kissed her again, the beginning of stubble running over her chin and jaw. He pushed his pants and briefs fully off his legs and undid the side zipper of her skirt. He let it fall onto the beige carpet. He pulled back from her mouth and slipped his hands at the elastic of her stockings. He was too impatient to pull them down gingerly. Instead, he used just a bit of his strength to rip them down the center seam. _y/n_ let out an exhalation of breath. She knew it was going to get good now. Not that it hadn’t been good before, but she knew that it could get even better than his thumb and middle finger rubbing against her sex and clit. Aaron looked at her panties and noticed how they matched her bra. He murmured, “You had this all planned, didn’t you, you little devil?” _y/n_ gave him a wink and said, “Maybe just a little. You mad about it?” Hotch let out a little throaty growl and slipped his fingers under the band of her underwear. When they were on the floor, he moved to the desk. He pushed his files to the side along with the batch that _y/n_ had been working so diligently on a few minutes ago. He might desperately want to bend her over his desk, but he wasn’t so stupid to waste three good hours of work by having his files fly all over the place while he fucked _y/n_.

Once the forms were safely on the other side of the desk, Aaron grabbed her hips, turned her body 180 degrees, and then pressed her upper body flush to the hard dark wood of his desk. Hotch had unbuttoned her shirt and her skin felt cool against Hotch’s desk. She anticipated Aaron’s next move as he moved behind her slowly. Hotch pumped his throbbing length once or twice to ready himself. Another bead of precum moved to his tip and he wet his member with it. Even if he was ready and _y/n_ was ready, some of her wetness was even dripping down her thigh, Hotch was going to tease her still, as she had teased him. Aaron moved right next to her and slid his cock up and down her entrance, slightly pressing at the space that was begging for him. Aaron used his left hand to stroke over her weeping sex and _y/n_ moaned saying, “A-aron. Please. Please fuck me. Oh god.” Aaron looked at his length now coated in his and _y/n_’s excitement. It didn’t take more than her words for him to press himself into her fully with a measured thrust. _y/n_ let her out a breath and Hotch could feel her body press into the side of the desk. Aaron pulled out and pressed in again. _y/n_ let out a whimper and there was a slight squelching sound and he began to move in and out of her more quickly. Aaron's thick cock filled her fully and Hotch watched as he pushed in and out of her building his speed. The veins of his length ribbed her insides and _y/n_ almost let her feet go from under her, the desk and Aaron holding up her weight as he kept pressing into her with a relentless pace. _y/n_ could feel him fill her fully, pressing his whole member deep inside her. Aaron knew just how to move his hips to hit her sweet spot and she was panting and babbling in under a minute. Aaron moved one hand to her mouth whispering, “Shhh, now. We wouldn’t want to get caught, now would we?” _y/n_ wanted to protest and say, ‘You know no one is out there, Hotch,’ but her head was so full of lust, desire, and longing to let go. Aaron’s movements had her desire building and she knew Aaron could feel it too. Hotch picked up the pace, rapidly thrusting into her. He moved his left hand to her clit and let go of her mouth so she could let out a litany of sounds. As he kept his fast pace and circled her clit, her body pushed roughly against his desk with every thrust, she whimpered, “I...I’m gonna come, Aaron.” Hotch smiled and leaned down so his chest was flush with her back. His hand on her outer erogenous zone moved quickly and _y/n_’s walls fluttered and then contracted against his cock. _y/n_ cried out and let go of everything, letting the pure bliss of her orgasm overcome her. The sounds of her release had Aaron climax as well. He groaned as he pushed into her a few more times as he let his spent his ejaculation into her. Their shared sounds of pleasure filled the room and Aaron considered how this was better than he could have ever imagined. _y/n_ though spent, felt the same way. 

Hotch took a moment to catch his breath and after a minute he let out a contented sigh. He pulled out of _y/n_ gently. As _y/n_ similarly let out a hum of happiness. She loved the way he was so gentle with her at the end of their intimate encounters. Aaron helped her stand and led her to the couch at the side of the room. Neither exactly felt like saying anything in the soft afterglow of their shared experience. Aaron had her sit on the couch and pulled moved back to his desk. He opened the left drawer and pulled out a pocket square that he rarely wore. He found the linen handkerchiefs too formal and stuffy. And as someone who came off as formal and stuffy already, he didn’t need a fashion accessory to add to the impression. But now, the fabric would come in handy. Aaron walked back to the couch with the confidence of a man who had performed very well. _y/n_ would have laughed at his cockiness if he wasn’t so damn good at sex. The first they had done it, she was so tight that it would have hurt if he hadn’t helped prep her very well. Now he fit her perfectly and he knew it.

She smiled lazily at him as he knelt down and gently cleaned her up. He loved her, but if his or her release started staging his furniture, it might lead to awkward conversations later. When he was done cleaning her body, he wiped himself. He raised his head and said, “Was that everything you wanted darling? You did very well by the way. You felt so good for me. I hope I was the same for you?” _y/n_ beamed and said, “It was everything I wanted and more. Thanks for indulging me. Aar. But I do think you should get out of this office. Being cramped up in here isn’t good for you mentally, sexually, or physically. So what do you say we get out of here and get an early dinner and watch a Christmas movie at my place, huh?” Aaron chuckled and folded the soiled handkerchief to the clean side facing out. He put it in his pocket and smoothed down his now very crumpled shirt. He grabbed his pants and underwear along with _y/n_’s skirt and panties. He tossed them over to her and they both changed. As Aaron zipped up his pants, he said, “Sounds like I good plan. These papers can wait till Monday morning.” Somehow _y/n_ always seemed to know what he needed, and he wasn’t going to fight her on it now. Not after what they’d just done. As _y/n_ put her clothes back on, he paced his briefcase and packed _y/n_’s ripped tights inside with his other work. He wouldn’t just throw those away in the trash by the door. As he did this, _y/n_ moved behind him and gave him a hug saying softly, “You know I really liked those tights, so I expect a replacement stat, mister.” Hotch chuckled and said, “You got it, _y/n_, but you know I couldn’t help myself. Not when you tease me like that.” There was a shared laughter as Aaron turned off his lamp, grabbed his and _y/n_’s bag, and opened the door for both of them. He locked the door to his office behind him and trailed _y/n_. He had suddenly grown an appetite and asked, “So, what type of food are you feeling.” _y/n_ thought about it as they descended the stairs. She took his hand and said, “How about _y/f/t/f_?” Aaron smiled and said, “Sounds great!” _y/n_ rested her head against Aaorn’s shoulder and contemplated how lucky she was for him, and for Freudian slips.

______________________________________________________________

Tag list: @geminitapestry @tgskitten @criminalskies

Want to be added to the tag list? Please see this post, CM Tag List (linked)

#criminal minds #fanfiction #cm #aaron hotcher #ssa aaron hotchner #reader insert #hotch x y/n #hotch x reader #aaron x reader #hotch smut #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #reader one shot #spicy hotch #read the tags #spencer reid #angst #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #i dont know how i feel about this #im getting back into the flow of writing #sorry if this isn't my best work #office shmex #criminal minds x reader

[starberry-cupcake]

Things were happening too much. Gideon "Griddle" Nav, Chapter 30

I'm gonna have to split these up because there's so much going on.

previously, in gideon the ninth:

this happened

currently, having finished chapter 34:

well, I am exhausted and I'm just reading this

"gideon can't catch a break" should be the subtitle of this book

we literally can't finish a world-shattering disaster, we're onto the next one

the skeletons can't clean the blood fast enough

so, palmolive has a plan

palmolive's plans are like my cousin playing d&d, he talks as if the plan is bulletproof but then you hear him and it's some looney tunes shit

they work more frequently than not, which is infuriating but also moves things along

I feel like I'm constantly arguing with this guy in my head

palmolive's plan is to use the mind reading thingy harrow leveled up when they won against the first boss to show her mentally how dulcinea's key was so that they can break in that door

there are 2546 things that could go wrong with this, but he says he's super sure

he's not, in fact, super sure, but it works

camilla, my qp wife, has the poker face of the century

they look at the room and find some stuff, pins in a board, necromancer notes, the fact that the skeletons aren't constructs, you know, the usual

oh and that teacher and the other dudes are all super dead

which, we all kinda knew that

the fact that the old man didn't have a heart attack at this point is prove enough he doesn't have a beating heart to begin with

I'm gonna say, I love learning book lore and understanding how things work in said lore, but this book is making me feel terribly dumb

I don't know if it's a language barrier, the fact that Gideon doesn't understand the stuff herself and she's the narrator or what, but I feel so dumb sometimes reading their explanations

the gist of it, I believe, is that they don't know what's powering them to do what they do...or who

they can't really delve into it because a fire alarm goes off

I haven't blamed dulcinea for things yet but you know how I feel about her, they check on her and she's still alive, so she's still a threat in my book

they fix the alarm but they can't really delve into it because the Second has murdered Teacher (he wasn't alive but he kind of was, you know how it is) and ratted them out to the Emperor

but Teacher says "one of them" can't come back, which makes me think this isn't as simple as they think it is

the second is a goner btw

they were a goner the moment they thought they could take on Camilla The Everything, love of my life

but they can't really delve into it because mayonnaise uncle and duracell bunny nephew tell them the third have opened up abigail's body

they can't really delve into that either because palmolive figures out that abigail had a key inside her body and the third have gone through the door it opened

the third is like when you have a dog that's constantly making noise and then, for 10 straight minutes you don't hear them, so you just know they've done something bad

so gideon, harrowbean, palmolive, my qp wife, mayonnaise uncle and duracell bunny nephew all go to confront the third

yandere simulator twin is bloody and cryptic in the middle of the room

I could go on a tangent and talk about the madwoman archetype in victorian literature and how she's a representation of the 'lucia' archetype (no relation to me), dulcinea of the 'ophelia' and maybe regina george twin could be a closeted 'jane'

I'm not going to, though, you're welcome for that

so regina george twin is crying in a corner (gideon is emotionally doing the same, probably) and chad is dead on the ground

get wrecked, asshole

well, he's not dead-dead, nobody in this book is ever dead-dead, this is the hotel california of space

yandere twin has absorbed chad's ghost like piccolo and kami sama in dragon ball (rip akira toriyama)

she says she's figured it all out and the whole test was so a necro would soul-fuse with a cav, one flesh one blood one end one bed, I forgot how the oath went

I don't think she's figured it out because we're not ending this book yet

palmolive also doesn't think so

very important note: there's writing on the wall (literal and metaphorical) again saying "you lied to us" and it's the same writing that was featured before and we still don't know what that's about

so the eighth goes berserk and mayonnaise uncle wants to fight yandere twin for slurping chad's soul

duracell bunny nephew goes like "I'm not sure about this" and that was the moment I knew he was toast

I have already established I feel dumb reading the explanations but, for what I can understand, what the eighth does is that the necro detaches the soul of the cav and makes him astral project elsewhere for a time but there's always a tether to bring him back, if that is broken or he drifts too far he can't come back but other things could go into his body instead, or something like that

which is what happens

I thought that the recent dead had, because gideon says there were six people in him, and we've got 6 dead (protozoa, the unknown corpse, the 2 teens and the bride and groom), but idk

all this happens after yandere twin fights using chad's moves and some magic body jelly

this is body horror territory, there are tongues coming out of orifices that should not have tongues and goo flying all over the place

the eighth is dead at the end of it, yandere twin and her inner chad are gone and regina george twin is crying because she wanted to be the one absorbed, which I guess makes sense considering she was training with swords

you know, I had my suspicions that maybe she wasn't a necro after all, but harrow distracted me when she said she must have been a good one

so now we're down to: gideon, harrowbean, palmolive, my wife, regina george twin, yandere twin w/inner chad and dulcinea my mortal enemy

and whoever it is that's coming in after the second contacted whatever number there was in the space phone tree

also, protozoa was one of the two bodies that were cooked earlier on, we still don't know who the second is

there's more we don't know than what we do know

see you on the next one, if you're not yet tired of me

#luly reacts to tlt #tlt #gideon the ninth #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth spoilers #long post

[strawberryspence]

this is PLATONIC. love can be platonic. and that’s what this is. if i see anything non-platonic stobin tagged in my rbs, i will delete this.

this is inspired of that quote from dolly alderton, “nearly everything i’ve known about love i’ve learned in my long time friendships with women.” i said the word love so many times, it’s not real anymore.

anw, happy stobin month. their friendship means so much to me. so here’s something sappy.🍦

-

“What is love?” El asks him, with that bright eye curiosity that makes her— that makes her the best of them all in more ways than one.

Steve blinks at her, dropping the whisk he’s holding and thinks.

What is love?

It’s easy.

Steve smiles to himself as he thinks of a time where he would have floundered for an answer, searched for it in the empty corners of his heart and home, in the unblinking red light on the voice machine; waiting for something, anything.

Nearly everything Steve Harrington knows about love he has learned from Robin Buckley.

First, Steve learns how to fall in love with the most unlikely person in the crowd. Robin was, and will always be a better person than him. From her, he learns how to fall in love, admit it, and accept the fact that it won’t always get reciprocated. That’s okay, because in exchange of that rejection, would be something better than he could ever imagine.

Love is a friend. A real friend.

Second, Steve learns that love— is love. It isn’t something meant to be put into a box, it isn’t just one thing. It’s not just girls for boys, or boys for girls. It’s for everyone, it’s for anything your heart wants.

And when he finally came to the realization that he didn’t fit that box too, Robin held him for hours. Assured him that it’s okay, that if that’s who he is, she will still love him because of it, never despite it.

Love is being true to yourself. It’s freedom while being held by your person.

Third, Steve learns that love can be quiet. It’s not always hiding under the covers as your parents fight from across the room, it’s not loud pounding music as the love of your life tells you that you’re bullshit.

It can be found in quiet afternoons, while reading a book with your best friend. It can be found in quiet evenings, as you both try to paint in silence. It was sitting, in a field behind a stolen RV, making molotovs in silence, both terrified they’d be dead tomorrow. It can be found in the middle of the night, after a terrifying, too real nightmare, just bundled together holding each other's hand.

Love is quiet. It’s peaceful and content, even when its hard.

Fourth, Steve learns that love— the real one— doesn’t have an expiration date. He once thought that it’s always been like that, that for him it’s always been meant to be like that. There is an end date. That one day day everyone he loves will realize what he truly is… bullshit. Like when his parents started to learn that he was too much, and too little of what they want and needed, they started leaving more often or when Nancy realized she deserved someone better, it’s over.

Maybe, he’s still waiting for the day when Robin finally realizes that she’s so much better than him, that she could find someone better, that Steve can’t really be her platonic soulmate. Because soulmates— God— they’re two halves of one whole. But how could he ever live up to that? He doesn’t think he could ever, not when Robin’s got all the good parts when they were split into half.

But there’s an unspoken trust. A tiny voice in Steve’s head that tells him, above all the noise and self loathing, a voice that sounds so similar to Robin’s says, “Robin won’t do that to you. Not ever.”

He holds onto that voice, clutches at it with shaking hands.

Love is… Love is there. And you will pray, and hope, and beg that it never leaves. But love is also trust, so you hold on with that blind faith.

Fifth, Steve learns that the best love— it’s in the in betweens.

Love is when Steve’s having the worst migraine, so Robin cleans the store for him instead. It’s when his best friend got him a brownie, because she thought he’d like it. It’s when his bestfriend brushed his hair after a rough night, even if it’s drenched in sweat and tears. It’s the scar in his thumb from when the vodka bottle broke as they made molotovs. It’s when she finally snaps and locks him and Eddie in the pantry so they can talk about their feelings. It’s her weirdly proud smile when she opens the pantry, and they’re making out like their lives depended on it.

It’s popcorn stuck in between the couch from movie nights. It’s paint stains in his favorite blue jeans from the one night they painted his room. It’s the chip on the plate when they were eating and she chipped it from laughing so hard. It’s that old post note on the fridge that says, “Got you milk, Dingus!” that he never removed.

Steve Harrington has learned of love from everyone. From Dustin, to Max, to Eddie, to the rest of the kids. Even Hopper and Joyce, from Nancy and Jonathan. In some ways, he’s learned from his parents too.

It’s all different.

But in his core. In his truest core, in his deepest soul.

It’s all from Robin Buckley.

El is still looking at him, with a fond smile, like she can see the montage playing in his head. You know what? Maybe she does see it.

“What is love?” Steve repeats her question.

El hums, nodding.

“Love is a U.S.S Butterscotch Sundae.”

El giggles at his answer as Steve winks at her.

Steve turns to the open window above the sink. There’s laughter coming from the yard, where the kids are playing in the pool. Eddie’s reading Nancy a book, as Jonathan and Argyle lounge around.

Steve meets Robin’s eyes, and she smiles at him, raises a hand to wave at him.

Steve waves back at love personified.

(In Steve’s room, there’s an old recipe book. Given to him by his Grandmother, it’s filled with different recipes, some 50 years older than him, some newer. There’s a piece of paper tucked in between the pages, with a blue and white border and a little sailor hat. It’s stained from use and dirt. It’s not old, it’s not new, it’s from two summers ago. It’s a handwritten recipe with a note at the bottom.

Harrington,

I wrote this down because you kept forgetting the freaking recipe for the USS butterscotch sundae. Keep it with you, you dingus.

Buckley.)

#THIS IS PLATONIC #MY PLATONIC SOULMATES #stobin rants #platonic stobin #stobin my favorite platonic soulmates #stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #they get to be happy and alive #daeheadcanons

[altf4d3lete]

Wednesday series takes itsef far more seriously than the movies. Murder is a serious thing in the story. Here we won't find a poor girl cooked inside a cake and get a "C'est la vie!" joke. While W herself is proud of having of mutilated Dalton, seeing it as a rightful retribution, it's clear that she despises senseless murder, or killing for pleasure. EG when Enid tells her she's sorry for Xavier, W answers, without regrets, that he was a liar and a murderer, implying he deserved to be jailed.

BUT she accepts murder as a mean to protect others or themselves. When Enid and W see eachother again after the battle, for what W knows, if E is alive that means she killed Tyler. W saw what a Hyde is capable to do, and doesn't know that the Sheriff shot his own son, so the only conclusion she can reach is that if Enid survived then Tyler is dead, or so mauled that he's dying. So, Enid killed somebody, yet Wednesday reciprocates the hug. The emotional climax of the show was never about Tyler, it was for Wednesday to open completely to the girl who constantly offered her friendship without losing hope. And Tyler's final battle wasn't in the story for him, but to make Enid shine. The writers willingly wrote that.

If they really wanted to depict Tyler as a victim, I'm sure they would have been perfectly capable to write him as a victim, not as a willing participant.

EXACTLY ‼️‼️‼️ THIS RIGHT HERE.

First paragraph: this! Wednesday is shown to be morally strong in this show, in her own weird sense. She doesn’t like people who murder innocents, she doesn’t think people should be in pain if they don’t deserve it. She actively goes out of her way to be nice (as she can be) to Enid and Eugene. She only messes with people once they mess with her. If she was the way that Weylers see her as, she wouldn’t have bothered with the piranhas. She just straight up would have finished the job and killed dalton and probably killed Eugene’s bullies as well. She doesn’t like murder unless it’s justified in her eyes. And there doesn’t seem to be a lot that justifies it. Even when she found out Tyler was the Hyde, she wasn’t going to kill him. And that says a lot about her character I think. It’s also weird that people think that she’d forgive him because he was forced to do those things while she was under the impression that Xavier was the Hyde (and forced to do things) and didn’t care. Straight up threw him in jail 0 qualms about it.

Second paragraph: I already talked a little about the first half so I’ll focus on the second! this entire thing is so true. Her arc was with ENID, not Tyler, and I think that says a lot about the direction the writers want to take the show. It was never about her opening up romantically, it was never about her being shipped with Tyler or finding love. It was about her and ENID, and it always will be about the two of them, whether they end up romantic or not. It was purposefully set up that way, and the writers have already said that they’re the center of the show. Whether Wednesday ends up with Enid, someone else, or alone, no one will ever be as important to her as Enid is and that is just *chefs kiss*.

Paragraph 3: if they wanted to depict Tyler as a victim, they would have made it WAY more clear that the Hyde is a split personality or that they really have no control over their actions. Iirc, there was even talk of a Hyde who offed their master, so it’s not looking good for Tyler. It’s looking more like he has SOME sense of Will if he really tried to fight it, but he gave into the murdering and enjoyed it rather than showcased himself as an actual good guy. He didn’t look all that sad to be killing Wednesday in episode 8. By that point he would have remembered the things he did/had control over himself and he tried to kill his dad, too. Crazy that people still think he’s good. He’s a tragic villain, but he’s still that: a villain

#wenclair #wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #netflix #tyler galpin #wlw #lgbtq #wednesday x enid #enid x wednesday

[mixelation]

wait here's a different way the end of the chunin exams in iwa could go

team 4 still does the same stuff: iwa grabs kushina, kushina yeets tori away. tori runs off to get itachi and deidara; the team then splits up to grab both kushina and ibiki. rn i'm thinking tori-deidara go for ibiki. tori wants to go to kushina but itachi is like "no, you're the ONLY one who can do the transportation jutsu for our mission" so the compromise is he goes after kushina. deidara ends up with tori because she needs extra muscle more, even though deidara would be better at FINDING kushina bc he knows iwa better. instead he just sort of points itachi in a direction.

tori by herself can do the transportation jutsu but it will be rougher when executed solo. she deems ibiki's physical condition too poor to risk it. they get him on a bird and fly out.

okay, so, my original idea was itachi finds a half-conscious kushina and gets her out of the village on foot. this is an insane feat he accomplishes with "massive genjutsu means no one notices for a hot second" no jutsu. iwa eventually realizes they've lost their very impotant hostage, which means they are screwed. they decide to blow up the problem to hide evidence (this will look BAD for them but no evidence means they can claim team 4 started it, which is less bad PR than what they actually did getting out). team 4 gets a fight, kushina recovers quickly enough itachi is like what the fuck, ma'am, and they flee into the night safe and sound.

i think i will keep this as ""canon"" bc it lets team 4 have thier moments. but here's a fun little alt au ending feat. minato:

okay, so, in the minato one shot we see kushina summon chains that aren't attached to her body. so i was thinking it'd be cute if minato had a necklace or bracelet made from one of her chains. it's also a ~kushina's health~ indicator: the chain with break/evaporate if she runs low on chakra (which would ONLY happen in a dire situation), or she can undo it herself if she needs to summon him. remember, her jinchuriki seal has a hiraishin integrated into it, so minato can go to her whenever he wants. minato spends a lot of time fiddle with his chain and sighing wistfully when she's out of the village.

then one day, the chain breaks. minato doesn't even think about it; he's by her side 0.2 seconds later. and then.... fuck it i just wrote it lol

****

Kushina was slumped over Uchiha Itachi’s shoulders. Itachi retaliated the second he felt a presence behind him. Minato dispelled all three layers of the genjutsu, knocked the short sword out of his hand, picked up his wife, and shoved Itachi away.  

His goal was to get Itachi away from him for long enough to orient himself. If he’d bothered to watch him, he’d get to watch Itachi’s reaction to being pushed around like a child: confusion mixed with a little bit of terror.

Sagged over in his arms, Kushina’s eyes were unfocused and her face was clammy with a cold sweat. He’d never seen her like this before. 

“M’nato?” she slurred, and Minato felt a wave of relief at the sound of her voice. “Feel like shit.”

If she was talking, she was going to be okay. Minato shifted her, pulling her into a princess carry. Kushina’s head rolled against his chest, and Minato felt a stab of worry. Kushina was a live, but what the fuck had they done to her?

“Hokage-sama?” Itachi asked, voice wary. He had not moved to retrieve his sword. He didn’t need it; all five Iwa-nin in the room were already dead. Minato must have crashed his rescue attempt. 

“You have permission to approach,” Minato told him. “What happened?”

Itachi gave him the succintest of summaries: Kushina and Tori had been intercepted while attempting to retrieve Morino Ibiki. Kushina had gotten Tori out, and Tori had gone for back-up. Itachi had then found Kushina here, in an underground detention facility. Tori reported Kushina as having chakra-poisoning. It was unclear if Iwa suspected them of their own betrayal of their agreement, or if their attack had unrelated motives. Minato thought the latter: there was only one known chakra toxin that could poison someone enough to take out someone like Kushina, and it was extremely difficult to synthesize. This had been planned. 

Minato felt a flash of rage. All that posturing about how he was the dangerous one, how he was the one who might unjustly destroy Iwa’s security, and this is what they did? 

“Okay,” Minato said, very carefully keeping his voice level. “I’ll handle it.”

“Sir?” Itachi replied. “Handle which part?”

“Hold this,” Minato said, and handed him a kunai. 

Minato teleported Kushina back to Konoha and left her with a medic. “Fuck ‘em up, dawling,” she told him, patting a random part of his face. Then he stopped briefly at home to grab weapons. Then, approximately three minutes after he’d left him, he went back to Itachi. 

Itachi, for once in his life, seemed to be at a loss for words. 

“Do you know how to get out of here?” Minato asked. 

Itachi led him down a hallway, up some stairs, and then down another hallway, passing zoned out Iwa-nin after Iwa-nin staring at the walls or passed out on the floor in the wake of Itachi’s genjutsu. Minato paused a couple times to draw Hiraishin markers, just in case. Itachi waited for him without comment. 

“Do you know which way the Tsuchikage’s office is?” Minato asked once they were on the ground floor and he could see sunlight through a window. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“I believe it’s towards the mountains,” Itachi said, “although he might be overseeing events related to the exam.”

Minato hummed.

“What would you like me to do?” Itachi asked when they reached the front doors of the building.

“Go find your team, please,” Minato told him. “Keep that kunai on you.”

Minato tossed a kunai out the door, and then he was off. 

Iwa was prettier than Minato thought it would be. Red mountains towered above them, and the sky felt closer and more open than it did anywhere in Fire Country. Most of the buildings were grand old things, tall and narrow and brushing up against each other with pointed roofs. The roofs were steep; not convenient for ninja travel. The ninja here all went underground when they wanted to be quick and avoid civilians. 

The narrow streets were crowded, people all herded together as they spilled out of the stadium. This didn’t particularly bother Minato; most of them were civilians who didn’t even notice him pass by, one kunai throw after the other. 

The administration building, when he found it, was carved into the mountainside. This was a really impressive use of earth ninjutsu, he would admit. 

There was a sign that said the building was closed to the public today, due to the chunin exams. Minato painted another hiraishin marker under it. 

Lucky me, he thought as his hand moved in quick, practiced strokes. He usually tried very hard not to kill civilians. 

No one expected him, despite the audacity of kidnapping his wife. 

“Excuse me,” he said to the kunoichi at the front desk. “Where is the Tsuchikage’s office?”

“He’s not taking visitors today,” she started, voice sharp and annoyed. Her eyes met his. Confusion flashed across her face. Minato smiled, charming. Confusion drained into horror. 

“That’s a shame,” Minato replied, and then she was dead. 

The building was fully staffed. Chunin exams took a lot of extra hours from admin behind the scenes, and ninja missions never stopped. Minato picked people off, one by one, as he moved through the building. The Kage’s office was usually at the top, right? They didn’t have intel on Iwa, but that’s where everyone else’s were… 

He was quick enough no one had realized what was happening and mounted a counter until he was on floor six. He wasn’t really sure if it was people trying to leave or fight back, but either way they all ended up dead. The entire hallway was sticky with blood, his sandals making that annoying squelching noise as he walked. 

I guess this is why no one ever invites me to their villages, Minato thought. Hiruzen had visited both Suna and Kiri for Chunin Exams. Minato always got a polite note suggesting he send a representative. He was kind of jealous, actually. Minato liked travel and meeting new people. All they had to do was not kidnap his wife and he’d be happy to play nice and not leave hiraishin markers places. 

Oonoki was seated behind his desk, a wall of Iwa ANBU in front of him. Cute. Minato dispatched them in the span of an inhale of breath.

“Hi,” Minato said, standing in front of Oonoki’s desk. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Namikaze Minato, Hokage of Konoha.”

To his credit, Oonoki did not cower. He did not bother with a useless attack. He met Minato’s eyes, gaze steely. 

“Killing me would be an act of war,” Oonoki said grimly. 

Minato raised his eyebrows. “Sure,” he agreed. He leaned forward, letting just a little bit of killing intent out to punctuate his words. ”And so would attacking and kidnapping my wife.”

Oonoki stayed silent. Minato reeled himself back in. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Minato said, uncapping another bottle of ink. He went to work drawing a Hiraishin marker on the Tsuchikage’s desk. “I am going to go get my shinobi. I’m going to kill whoever I want along the way. Then I will leave, and we won’t have to talk about this ever again.”

Minato leaned forward, grasping Oonoki’s chin in his hand. It was scratchy with the scraggly hairs of an old man’s thinning beard. Oonoki did nothing to resist him tilting his head back, pride keeping his gaze hard. 

“And you,” Minato continued, pressing his brush to the man’s forehead to draw one last marker, “will do nothing. No declaration of war. No retaliation on Konoha or Fire Country. Got it?”

He pulled his hand back, letting Oonki go. He pocketed the brush. The wet ink of the hiraishin marker glimmered on the old man’s face, a new permanent fixture to his skin. 

“Do you understand?” Minato reiterated. “Say it.”

There was a long silence, stretching on and on between them. Minato kept eye contact, smile pleasant. 

“I understand,” Oonoki said. 

“Excellent,” MInato replied. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

He teleported to the marker he’d given Itachi. 

Team 4 was currently in Ibiki’s holding cell, having an argument. There was an incredible amount of blood everywhere, considering there was only one dead Iwa-nin in there with them. Ibiki himself was sat against the wall, emaciated with two black eyes. New scars decorated his scalp. He watched Team 4 with what was either exhaustion or intense judgment. Horrific evidence of torture aside, his expression perked up when he noticed Minato. 

“No, I can’t do the jutsu solo if you want him to not get brain damage,” Tori was saying, jabbing her finger aggressively into Itachi’s chest. “Either summon the Hokage back or–”

“Hey,” Minato interrupted, and Tori basically jumped out of her skin. 

“Jesus FUCK–”

“I’ll take him back,” Minato announced, and ninety seconds later, Ibiki was in his prepared hospital room and Minato was back in the holding cell. 

“Um,” Tori said. 

“What the fuck?” Deidara said. 

“Oh wow,” Minato said, having noticed the blood splattered on one wall had been painted into words: Can you find them all? with a hiraishin marker below. “Tori, this is mean.”

Funny. But mean. 

The look Tori gave him was vaguely affronted. 

“What’s our exit plan?” Itachi asked. “Are we also teleporting?”

Minato spun a kunai around his finger casually. “I can take you home first,” he said. “But thought I’d walk.”

#reborn au #my writing

[raineandsky]

#110

tw: implied violence

For the first three seconds, the villain is absolutely certain the hero is dead.

He’s just returning from a dart across the city and isn't even 100 metres from the little front door when he spots the hero. Who on god’s green earth has left a hero on the floor, out in the open? The villains are meant to be trained better than this. They’re practically begging for attention, and on their literal doorstep. Someone’s getting a good talking to about this.

The villain approaches tentatively, leaning down to hold a hand in front of the hero’s mouth. Okay, so they’re alive. He’s not sure if that makes the situation better or worse.

He pushes the hero over slightly to try and see what on earth got them here—and whether the villain needs to worry about any split-second, lifesaving decisions—and earn an incoherent groan in response. He almost drops the hero in surprise; alive, clearly, and somewhat conscious.

“[Hero]?” The villain can’t say why that’s his first port of call. The hero’s barely awake, let alone in any state to reply. He carefully brushes the hero’s hair out of their face; he’s not sure why. “I’m gonna try to get you inside, alright?”

Another halfhearted noise. The villain punches the code into the door, shoves it open, and, as gently as no strength and an ingrained sense of apathy will allow, drags the hero into the bright white of the villains’ hideout.

No one’s around, thankfully; he’s not about to take the flak for someone else’s mistake. He dumps the hero on the floor half-gently, abandoning them there momentarily to grab a first aid kit. Villains come back in pieces more often than not—they’ve learnt to keep ways to fix themselves within arm’s reach.

The villain hurries back, kit in his arms, dropping it and himself to the ground without a care next to the hero. He’s opened the bag and shoved his hand into it before he realises he didn’t hear the door shut behind them.

His gaze snaps up to the doorway. A figure is stood there, her foot holding the door open, her eyes roaming curiously. “Hm,” she says brightly, “nice little hideout you have here.”

The villain’s on his feet immediately. He has to be—it’s not like he can deal with the hero with a stranger wandering about. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger’s gaze finally falls on him, part intrigued, part humoured. “Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t know me,” she says wistfully. “It’s been so long since I was in the field.”

The villain’s been in said field longer than most. He squints in an effort to place this random person acting like she belongs here, his hand against the sharp bump in his coat like a comfort. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

A bright smile, like the sun is invading this room and trying to blind everyone in it. “I’m [Superhero].”

The villain’s dagger is in his hand before he can even think about it. The superhero takes a half-step inside and lets the door shut behind her.

“Got your attention, didn’t it?” She nods her head to the hero on the ground. “I know you villains love your heroes… weak.”

The villain tightens his grip to stop the blade from shaking in his hand. The superhero looks mildly amused by his apprehension, as if she belongs here, as if she always has. She hums a laugh, turning her gaze onto the hero still laying on the floor. “Consider this my résumé.”

The villain’s gaze flits to the hero as well. They haven’t moved. Time is short. “You want in with us?”

The superhero positively beams like he’s solved an age-old puzzle. “I’m sure a bunch like you could find some use in an authority like me.”

The villain has to believe her. He tucks his knife back into his belt and kneels down to the hero. “Dramatic change in career path.”

“Who’s to say this wasn’t always the plan?” The superhero watches as the villain unravels bandages from a well-used roll. “You wouldn’t take me in as a novice, so I’ve made myself valuable. Wouldn’t you say so?”

A superhero genuinely being on their side is undeniably, colossally valuable. The villain carefully wraps the larger of the hero’s wounds in the dressing. Wounds the superhero has inflicted, for what? Personal gain? To prove something? Where’s the line in what she wants?

The hero makes some incoherent noise of discomfort from the floor. A smile teases at the corner of the superhero’s mouth, like this is right, like this is exactly what she wants.

The villain’s attention is so focused on keeping his hands gentle against the hero’s pain that he takes a second too long to realise the superhero is inviting herself further inside. 

“What—” is halfway through coming out.“Might as well meet my future coworkers, huh?” She laughs again, like this situation is highly amusing. Like she holds the cards and she knows it. The villain hates it, but she does. “I bet they’ll love me. Everyone always does.”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #todays the dayyyyyyy #made a post asking for beta readers!!! im so so so scared!!!!! #like i know i share my writing with yall but this is different somehow #ive poured almost 3 years of my life into this book. my heart. my soul. i was a girl when i started writing it #its been fun but its a relief that this part is over