#YOUR PROMPT GAVE ME SO MANY IDEAS L

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Title: Biggest Regret

Character(s): Bruce Wayne, F!Reader, Alfred Pennyworth, and made up character Dean Vansen.

Warnings: NONE

Prompts: in bold, credit @ bookished

Bruce Wayne was reading one of the many magazines that Alfred brought home from the grocery store, when one particular magazine caught his eye.

“Y/N Y/L/N IS ENGAGED! THE LUCKY MAN? DEAN VANSEN.”

Bruce quickly flipped through the pages until he landed on the cover story. “Y/L/N is excited for her engagement, however, they’ve been engaged for over a year. The wedding is to take place this Friday at the First Church of Gotham.” At the bottom of the column, it showed a picture of you smiling next to your soon to be husband.

“I am so thrilled to finally be marrying the love of my life. This has been a long time coming.” -Y/L/N stated in a recent interview.

Bruce closed the magazine and tossed it on to the kitchen table. His chin rested between his thumb and forefinger. How could he have let this happen? It had been three years since he seen you last— he was sure you were still in love with him. What changed?

Three years ago, you were on the cover of magazines with him. You two were the power couple of Gotham. He was the rich billionaire playboy, and you were the sweet, beautiful, book author— you were so different from his past girlfriends.

Alfred walked into the kitchen, “I see you read the article about Miss Y/N. I believe it is time to send a congratulatory bouquet? Or perhaps a card?” The trusted butler asked, and Bruce shook his head.

“No. Better yet, I will take both of those things in person.” Bruce said as he stood up, and tightened his tie.

Alfred chuckled. “Master B, I do not think that is a wise idea. The media will be following her, and if you two are seen together, a scandal story will be written.” He said and Bruce shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s just a card, Alfred.” Bruce said before grabbing his car keys. Before Alfred could protest any further, Bruce was out the door.

Bruce picked up your favorite flowers and a card. As he drove to the five star hotel your husband-to-be owned, he remembered the last words that were shared between the two of you.

You two had just gotten into a fight and you were packing your suitcase. “Y/N, come on, don’t do this.” Bruce said as he tried to grab your arm.

You pulled away, “No! I’m tired of seeing you hang around all of those models! They act as if I don’t exist, and you don’t make me feel like I do either.”

Bruce took a step back, “Woah, wait a minute—” but before he could finish his sentence you cut him off. “Bruce, I am tired of waiting for you. I’m tired of waiting for you to decide if I’m worth having around for the rest of your life.” You say quietly.

“We have been together since we were 18. We’re 25 years old Bruce! That’s seven years of being loyal. Seven years of proving that I am worthy of the Wayne last name. Seven years of showing you that I want you! That I want to marry you, and have children.”

Tears were streaking down your face and you shut the lid to your suitcase. “I’m tired of waiting, Bruce. I waited for you to figure out what you wanted to do after highschool. I waited for you to figure things out with Wayne Enterprise. I am still waiting for you to figure out the Batman thing. When will there be room for us?” You questioned, and Bruce hung his head.

“Please, give me time, and I promise that I will take a break from it all to work on us.” He said, and you shook your head.

“This is the third time you have said it. I can’t believe your empty promises any longer.” You said before carrying the suitcase out of the shared bedroom.

————

Bruce pulled up to the hotel, and the valet offered to take his car. He shrugged them off, “I’ll only be a minute.” He said and he approached the front desk.

“What room is Y/N Y/L/N in?” He asked and the clerk gave him a small smile. “She would be in the honeymoon suite. Are you here for the rehearsal dinner?” She asked and Bruce shook his head.

“No, I will just be a moment. I’m here to congratulate her.” He said.

The clerk gave him the room number and Bruce was nervous the entire elevator ride up. No matter what he told everyone, he still loved you. This whole engagement angered him, and he was genuinely upset. His heart broke when he read the headline; a part of him hoped you would leave here with him tonight.

As the elevator dinged, he got off and clutched the vase of flowers in his hands. One he reached room 312, he knocked. There’s not turning back now.

“Just a minute!” He heard your voice call from the other side of the door. It was just as sweet as he remembered. You opened the door with your phone up to your ear. When you had seen it was Bruce, you pulled the phone away from your ear. “I’m going to have to call you back.” You say before hanging up the phone.

You were more beautiful than the pictures had shown. You were stunning- glowing, and-and happy. “Bruce? What are you doing here?” You questioned.

He was tongue tied, just like he was when he first met you when he was 16 years old. Instead of answering your question, all he could say was: “Every time I see you, it feels like the first time all over again.” He whispered and all you could do was stare at him.

You opened the door allowing him to enter the suite. He came in and sat the vase of roses on the table near the door.

Slowly, you closed the door and leaned against it. “We shouldn’t be in here together, you know that.” you whispered. “Dean could be here any minute, and if the paparazzi found out you were here, there will be a made up scandal created.”

Bruce again, ignored your words, “I can’t live without you, no matter how hard I try.” He said as he approached you slowly.

There was no where for you to go, all you could do was allow him to trap you between his body and the door. “Bruce, I’m getting married tomorrow. He’s a good guy. He loves me, and-and I love him.” You whispered, and Bruce looked down at you.

“I’m sorry for what happened between us, Y/N. Not putting you first, and not asking you to marry me sooner was my biggest mistake.” He admitted, and you shook your head.

“Your biggest mistake was not putting effort into our relationship. I felt like I was on the back burner when it came to Batman, and Wayne Enterprises, and models.” You said, and Bruce shook his head.

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t do this.” He said as he rested his forehead against yours. “You keep putting me in these positions, Bruce. I’ve left two other guys, because you’ve come and expressed how wrong, and sorry you are.” You replied.

Bruce’s nose brushed yours, and you felt his lips brush gently against yours. His dark eyes glanced into yours, “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong.” You whisper against his lips.

His hand rested between your neck and cheek, “Then why does it feel so right?” He had no right to ask that question, but he did. His breath tickled your lips, and a tear rolled down your cheek. “Because I-I can’t stop loving you, no matter the consequences.” You stutter out.

Bruce pressed his lips against yours, and your lips moved against his slowly. The kiss only intensified, and before you knew it, he lifted you up off the floor. Your legs wrapped around your waist, as he pressed you against the door.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, and he groaned into the kiss. “Please. Don’t marry him. Please.” He whispered between kisses, and tears rolled down your cheeks.

You pulled away from him, “I’m sorry… I can’t do this again.”

Bruce looked into your eyes and put you back down to the floor. “I can’t ruin something that is good for me. He wants me, Bruce. He wants kids. He wants marriage. You don’t.” You say before opening the door. Bruce looked around the room, and then back at you. When he seen your gaze was dead set on the floor, he decided it was time to leave. Maybe you were right. Maybe this was good for you. Maybe Dean was the one for you.

“I’ll always love you. You’ll always be my first love, Bruce.” You said, and Bruce slowly stepped out. “I truly regret my past decisions, Y/N. But I love you. I will always love you.” He whispered before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Hot tears rolled down his face as he shakily pulled away from you.

You quickly closed the door and fell to your knees. Were you making the right decision?

Bruce had left, never looking back. His biggest regret would follow him for the rest of his life.

———

This was fast paced, but I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

The Crucible [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@roting) Center (@dudeitiskarev) Right (@moodboard-d)

Prompt: Aaron finds himself alone with a homegrown terrorist group whose leader he put away a year ago. He gets beaten, shot, and dumped in the woods where the reader finds him and attempts to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to get to him. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, gender-neutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns 

Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending] 

Word Count: 14.9K 

Content Warnings: Food is mentioned, alcohol is consumed, there is a hate group [the bad guys], severe beating [glass broken on a body, unwanted touch, forced drinking, punching, hitting, groping (Aaron)], shooting [Aaron], death by gunshot [a bad guy], gore,  mention of past abuse [Aaron], arguing, near death, hospitals, deep concern and coping mechanisms, language. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! It has been a while, but I am back now thanks to the end of the semester. I hope you are all doing very well! As always, I return with a novel of a Hotch story. I’ve had this idea for months now, and I am happy with how it turned out. I do want to encourage you to read the Content Warnings as this is angsty (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see a part two, let me know. I have many fluffy ideas for Aaron too, and those are coming, pinky promise. I am so happy to be writing again and hope to do a lot of it during the summer. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. Special shoutout to @criminalskies for sharing emergency medicine with me for this fic! If I got things wrong, I'm sorry pookie.

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

y/l/n = your last name 

y/a =  your age

Aaron drove down the lonely highway. He’d passed briefly through Shenandoah National Park. The peacefulness of the trees had calmed his mind for the hour that he was in the park, but as he got back onto the main road, the conversation that was bothering him started to edge its way back into his consciousness. Hotch wanted to close his eyes and potentially scream, but he settled for rubbing his hand angrily over his brow and then his eye bags that seemed to get heavier each day. 

Sean had reached out last week saying that he was going to be in New York meeting someone and had asked if his older brother had wanted to get a drink and catch up. To Hotch, this was last-minute planning according to him and his packed schedule. But he’d managed to drag himself out of bed and on the road on Saturday morning. When he got into the city, he and Sean met up at a swanky restaurant that suited Aaron’s taste a bit more than Sean’s. That at least he had to give his little brother credit for. 

In their adult lives, the Hotchner brothers had never seen eye to eye. It had only gotten worse when their mom had passed leaving the last real reason for them to be civil behind. Not that they were outwardly hostile, at least they hadn’t been until this afternoon, just that Aaron carried a lot of guilt and Sean had never seen to be able to step past his anger about what life had thrown at him. Neither could be blamed for their responses. But when Aaron arrived at the restaurant, Sean moved forward and shook his hand, and even gave him a hug with his other hand. Hotch returned the hug, realizing just how many years it had been since Sean and he had seen each other. 

They pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before moving inside and being seated. They both decided to just have a drink. Aaron got a mezcal mule and Sean opted for a margarita on the rocks. They both did a bit of catching up on their first drink, but things started to get rocky when Sean said, “So, I’m seeing someone new. Her name is Jennifer and she’s got three kids from a past relationship. I’m going to visit her and her family over the weekend. If things look good I’m thinking of moving from Nashville. Or I’ll invite her to move down with me.” Hearing this, Hotch took a sharp breath in. Sean had always been impulsive, but this was a lot, even for him. Aaron had hoped that with time, his brother would have grown out of this lifestyle. 

Hotch furrowed his brow and asked, “How long have you known her?” Sean sipped his drink but didn’t love Aaron’s tone. He replied a bit defensively, “A month and a half, but I don’t see why that’s a big deal. I’m just feeling it out, Aaron.” Hotch couldn’t help but scoff and say, “It sounds like a bit more than that.” Aaron’s reply only solidified Sean’s defensive nature, and he replied hotly, “Well what do you mean by that? You don’t even know Jennifer.” Aaron took a steadying breath. He didn’t want to come off as creating a narrative, or not trusting Sean, but Aaron had seen the same thing play out with his brother again and again, and each time Sean got hurt. Hotch looked at Sean and said, “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But what I’m trying to say is that you jump into things. You and I have both seen it before. You say that I don’t know Jennifer well, but from what I’m hearing I don’t know if you know her that well either, and you’re already talking about you or her moving across the country. Does that sound logical or well throughout to you?” 

Sean was already heated. Something about Aaron’s attitude made him feel judged. His older, well-put-together brother always had something to say about his life. Sean set down his empty glass and said, “Well maybe you’d know more about me and my life if you called me sometimes. Or unlocked yourself from the chain connecting you to your desk and came down and saw me sometimes.” Aaron sighed and tried to defend himself even though he knew Sean was right saying, “Sean, I have Jack. And my work doesn’t just let me have off time like yours does. Plane tickets go both ways. And you never answered my question.” 

Aaron pinched the bridge of this nose.  He just once wanted Sean to think through his actions. Sean responded, “You’ve always thought you were better than me. And I think you really stopped caring about me when Mom died. But let’s be honest, you stopped caring when dad passed.” The mention of their family so quickly broke Hotch’s facade of composure and he said, “Don’t bring family into this Sean. You know I don’t talk about that. I care about you and I want you to make good choices.” Sean let out a sharp breath and said, “You don’t talk about it because you refuse to admit how fucked up it left you emotionally, Aaron. At least I can connect with women. And don’t start acting like dad on me now.” Sean’s latest comment landed like a slap on the face to Aaron and he said, “You better not be comparing me to him, Sean. You had better not be doing that right now.” After all the beatings Aaron had taken for his mom and for Sean who always seemed to be getting into trouble during his younger years, the comparison made Aaron feel sick. Before Aaron had a chance to reply or defend himself for making a comment he already regretted, Sean continued, “And I don’t think you're qualified to comment on my relationships or how I’ve hurt people before. Haley dumped you and then died because of you. So I can think of at least one woman who’s been treated worse because of a Hotchner and it wasn’t me.” 

What Sean said made Aaron see red for a second. He stood, towering over Sean who was still sitting. It was one thing to have Sean bring up their parents, it was one thing to call him a workaholic and be emotionally unavailable. He knew these faults already. It didn’t really hurt him to hear them again, but the comment about Haley ate at him like acid on flesh. He had tried. He had tried so hard with Haley. He had loved her. He’d loved her with everything there was in him, and yes, it wasn’t enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. That her brutal death hadn’t torn him open sinew by sinew. Aaron felt his heart pumping in his ears. He was biting his tongue so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth. His fingernails dug into the calloused skin of his palms. If Sean was anyone else but his family, he would hit him. However, after all the abuse Aaron had seen, he made a promise to himself that he would never be violent with his family. It took everything in Hotch to uphold that promise. When Aaron came back to his senses, he realized he was standing. It was a good thing as Aaron grabbed his jacket and moved away from the table. He looked at Sean like he didn’t know him as he said, “Don’t ever call me again,” and walked out the door. 

The first hour of the drive back to Quantico was filled with a silence so oppressive that Aaron felt it weighing him down like an iron vest. The next hour all Aaron could think about was what Sean had said, and how he had responded. It wasn’t a good feeling. The way he’d ended things, but he wasn’t sure what else he would or could have done at such a cruel statement. If Sean could say something like that to him, to his face, then he felt justified with his final words of their conversation, even if Aaron had seen shame slowly creep up Sean’s face as he realized what he’d said. What Aaron ended up feeling for the rest of the hour was grief. Grief not only for missing Haley but for what felt like a death in his and Sean’s relationship. 

Hotch would have liked to drive all the way home, get another stiff drink, take a hot shower, and sleep, but the fact that he had a drink and it was still a long way off from home made that an impossibility. Aaron checked his gas tank. He did need a top-up and he hadn’t seen a station for miles, however, he approached what looked like a small bar nestled in the middle of nowhere. He slowed slightly and looked at the exterior of the old wooden building with a wrap-around porch. The Coors Light and Miller Light neon signs fighting to be seen in the bright daylight gave away that it was a bar and not some old building with a few cars parked outside. Hotch knew he needed a bathroom and this was going to have to do. It would be in and out. He’d grab a beer so he didn’t look like he was just there to relieve himself; even if that was the case. 

Aaron pulled into the parking lot. His hands tapped the wheel restlessly as he picked one of the many empty spaces. Something in his gut felt off, but he blamed it on the argument. As good as he was with dealing with stress, this was different. Hotch dropped his head for a second and tried to get his bearings. When he’d taken a deep breath, he raised his head and unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and swung his feet out onto the gravel of the parking lot. The stones crunched under his tread. Hotch stepped up the three stairs onto the wooden porch. He could tell the building had seen much better days. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was rot in the wooden beams that smelled of pine sap. Hotch opened the door which creaked on rusty hinges, as soon as he stepped into the dim, ill-lit room, Aaron knew that he had made a mistake. There there were five patrons and the bartender scattered around the small space. Three of the big burly men were sitting at the bar, and before they turned around to look at who had entered their space, Hotch could see the symbols of hate on their leather vests The antiquated flag of the South that rested above the bar solidified that this was the hangout for a very particular group of people. If he could, Aaron would have walked right back out the door. Even his more casual slacks and button-down were a far departure from the denim jeans, stained baseball caps, and leather, but it was too late, the men sitting at the bar had turned in their seats and eyed him suspiciously. 

It was too late to turn around now and just walk out the door. It would look strange and there was something inside gnawing of him to investigate this space further. Call the FBI with evidence of the type of activity happening here. Not only that, but his bladder protested as well. He quickly cleared his throat and moved into the space and toward the restroom sign on the far wall. He strode with a false confidence toward the bathroom, the men turned back to their conversation but with lower voices. After Aaron relieved himself, he moved from the poorly lit room that smelled like piss. He rinsed off his hands and realized that there weren’t any paper towels, so he opted to wipe his damp palms and fingers on his pants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. 

Moving back into the bar, Aaron stepped up to the wooden countertop next to one of the men who continued to eye him with distaste. The man behind the bar turned his gaze at the tall, broody man standing in front of him, sizing Aaron up. After an awkward moment, the barkeep asked, “What can I get you?” It was clear from the way everyone was acting that he was not welcome here. At this point, Hotch didn’t want to be here either. After letting out a low breath, Hotch replied steadily, “Just a Budlight.” The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the cups stacked up on the back side of the bar. He moved to the draft beers and filled the glass to the brim, the frothy head spilling just the smallest bit over. The man didn’t bother wiping the side of the glass dry as he added a lime to the rim. As the red-faced man sat the glass down in front of Aaron he said, “That’ll be five dollars.” Hotch nodded and pulled out his wallet. He made sure to keep his FBI ID hidden as he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Aaron’s eye flicked up the flag on the wall, and he regretted giving this place any money. But he’d just drink his beer as fast as he could without it looking conspicuous and then get the hell out of there. He handed the man the cash who grunted and pulled out a slightly wet five-dollar bill from the tip jar. Hotch took a few sips from the drink trying to drain the glass as quickly as possible. There was no chance of taking a picture without it being obvious, but he’d call the FBI as soon as he was back in his car. In fact, as soon as he was out the door.  As he was drinking, one of the men from the tables near the window moved to the bar next to Hotch. 

“Another Coors Steve.” The man who had just ordered was so close to Hotch that he could smell his sweat and very clearly see his hateful tattoo. The fact that the man had that visible in this place only solidified that Aaron would never take this road again. This place seemed more than just a spot for the locals to hang out and chat over a cheap beer. Hotch was halfway through his beer and making good time when the door opened again. Aaron couldn’t help like the rest of the patrons to turn his head slightly at the entryway. Hotch felt his stomach clench as he saw who was walking in the door. All other thoughts left his mind, and his work side kicked in. Aaron knew the man walking in the door well. He’d arrested him one year ago for a litany of hate crimes. The memory of the two young men who had been killed by the man stepping up to the bar with a familiar smile made Aaron’s stomach turn. Roman Invictus LeBrant, formerly Hayden Jude LeBrant before he fell down the alt-right pipeline and joined a hate group was a hard person to forget. 

Roman noticed Aaron too. He was the man who had put him away for a year and two months of hell. Half of his time in prison had been spent in isolation for his protection as he kept picking fights with the inmates. Thanks to the fact that Roman had no spine and didn’t want to spend any time in jail, he had ratted out all of his co-conspirators and so-called ‘friends.’ Due to this, he had gotten off with a lighter sentence. The very sight of Agent Hotchner shot a bolt of rage through him. Roman’s face broke into a malicious smile. This time the tall and sauve FBI agent was on his turf, with his people. He didn’t have all of his friends to back him up. The man moved up to the bar with confidence. Everyone in the room's attitude shifted as their chosen leader entered their space. The man sitting next to Aaron quickly got up and made room for the man. Everyone also stood at the sheer presence of the man that they so revered. He stepped between Aaron and his friend. Roman looked at Steve and then to his left saying, “Steve, Dan. How are you motherfuckers?” The felon was so close to Aaron that he was brushing his thigh. The lack of personal space was meant to disturb Hotch, but it wasn’t working. Aaron had set down his glass, his eyes facing forward with a determined gaze. The fact was, as quickly as Roman had gotten out of prison, he had began his normal campaign of terror again. After that the man had made himself very hard to find, and to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. So Hotch had a responsibility to make sure Roman got put back where he belonged. Unfortunately, Aaron couldn’t just whip you his phone and get the FBI here in an instant, and Roman knew this and was enjoying it. 

The bartender could sense the tension between Hotch and his friend but chose not to speak. Roman looked straight ahead as well saying, “Hotchner.” Aaron replied, “LeBrant” in greeting. Aaron could feel his gut clench with worry. There was little he could do right now. Roman had come in the front door and was well aware that he was alone, so Hotch was left with not much more than his wits. He had his small pistol on his left ankle, but reaching for that would do little good as everyone in the bar was probably armed. Roman finally addressed the bartender saying, “Steve, I’ll take a shot of whiskey and one for my agent friend too.” At the word agent, the whole room's attitude shifted again. It was tense before, but now that they knew a fed was in their midst, the tension turned to simmering anger and fear. 

Aaron knew that there wasn’t much worse than to be in a room full of people like LeBrant who were angry and afraid. Steve let out a chuckle and poured two generous double shots and placed one in front of Aaron and one in front of LeBrant. Aaron wearily looked at the drink and Roman took him with a single swig before turning to Hotch for the first time saying, “Aaron, I don’t think that drink is poisoned as I just had one myself, so drink up. I think you’re going to need it for what’s coming next.” Aaron met Roman’s hateful gaze, raised his shot glass, and said sarcastically, “To your health,” before downing the shot. The dark liquor burned down his throat and he stopped himself from coughing. As Hotch kept his face straight LeBrant asked, “So, have you liked my recent work? I’d think this is a sting operation on the FBI’s part, but you’re looking pretty alone from where you’re sitting right now.” The large man’s words were true as the group of men in the bar had all slowly started surrounding Aaron and cutting off any escape plans he might try and make. 

Aaron was racking his brains for a way out of this situation but the repetition of the question, “Didn’t you like my stunt at that church, Agent? Didn’t it get your blood flowing? It certainly had me, excited.” Hotch cringed at the implication and replied, “I find little to be excited about to send a sixteen-year-old suicide bomber into a church filled with people, mostly women and children.” Roman scoffed and nodded at Steve for a beer bottle. Aaron shifted in his chair slightly which had an impact as everyone, including Steve, pulled guns on him. Everyone, except LeBrant that was. He was the king of his castle and he knew he would be protected no matter what. Roman raised his hands and said, “Easy boys. Take it easy. We don’t want things to get messy, just yet at least.” Hotch swallowed thickly and Roman grabbed the bottle off of the bar, looking at the label before quickly whipping it above his head and over the back of Aaron’s skull. 

The sound and feeling of the ice-cold beer and the shards of glass colliding with Hotch’s head was so intense that it knocked him off his chair. Aaron took in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes as the alcohol streamed down his head and wetted his hair and the collar of his shirt. Closing his eyes didn’t help Aaron much with keeping a handle on the situation as he leaned heavily forward against the bar before being wrenched back by serval hands on his body to the center of the room. 

Aaron stumbled as he was led away from any support. He could hear a few low laughs at his condition but was more worried about what was going to happen next. Hotch opened his eyes to see the floor swimming in front of his eyes. Before he could even get his feet under him, a knee met painfully with his groin. The pain of the glass tearing open his scalp and the feeling of warm blood flowing from his head was surpassed by the acute pain emanating from his nether regions up his body. Aaron grunted with pain and screwed his eyes shut again. The hot, large hands fondling a sensitive area of Hotch’s body had him open his eyes again. 

He wasn’t surprised that it was Roman doing the fondling, thankfully at this point over his clothes. LeBrant spat in Aaron’s face as they made eye contact and Roman’s hand slowed as he said, “How do you like that Hotchner? How does it make you feel?” Aaron’s gaze hardened and he refused to reply to LeBrant’s taunts and demeaning actions. The gruff man gave Aaron’s groin a hard squeeze before stepping back. Hotch had just started to catch his bearings, when he realized he was being supported on either side of his body by two men with the rest of the gang stepping in front of him. His eye caught that his only gun had been taken. Roman, like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the ocean, hoping to get some sort of fearful response. When the man didn’t get one he snarled and pulled out a jack-knife and moved back to Aaron’s face flashing the point of the blade dangerously close to his skin. Still, Hotch didn’t flinch and Roman flicked the knife over Hotch’s cheek drawing fresh blood apart from the red liquid slowly causing Aaron’s vision to be disabled. Hotch naturally pulled back and Roman laughed before saying, “How would you like me to blind you, Aaron? Or cut off one of your ears. Do you think the FBI will still want you after that?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from coughing out in pain as the men holding him tightened their grips on his forearms. 

Roman was happy with his enemy's position, as bloody drool slipped from his mouth and onto the floor of the bar. LeBrant stepped back and stated, “Boys, if you want to have some fun you can. You can blame Agent Hotchner for locking me up for a few years, so why don’t you pay him back in kind? Now, no serious boldly harm, and not too much blood. You’ll have to clean this shit hole up after the mess you make of him, but enjoy for a bit.” Hotch raised his head to look at Roman defiantly, hoping to show that he still wasn’t afraid. Whatever he had planned for him, he still didn’t regret putting him away, and putting him away again. LeBrant met Aaron’s stern brown eyes and sat back at the bar, grabbing another drink like nothing was happening. The man said over his shoulder as the real beating began, “You’re welcome for the whiskey, Hotchner.” 

LeBrant managed to down two more beers while watching and listening with a sick satisfaction to Aaron as he got punched, spat on, had drinks splashed in his face, and forced down his throat. Hotch gaged as another bottle was cast aside and hit the wall with the sound of shattered glass. He was beyond the point of silence as he took blow after blow to his face and torso. Aaron was sure his nose was broken as he took another hit to the face and his nose radiated pain through his nasal bridge and up his skull. He grunted in pain as his ribs got another beating. If pulverizing him to death was the plan, then the men surrounding him were doing a good job at that. However, what these bruisers weren’t very good at, and apparently Roman wasn’t good at noticing either, was that Aaron’s DNA was getting spread everywhere in the room from his saliva on the shattered beer bottles, or his blood dripping on the floor, or his hair which had been harshly pulled to jerk his head up. That was the thing about groups like these, they loved to act tough and strong, but their brains weren’t aways fully used. People like LeBrant could use others as a shield, but no matter what happened, it was going to be hard to get rid of every trace Aaron would leave in the space. 

Hotch’s hold on consciousness was becoming harder, but he managed to notice when the front door opened again. Aaron had hoped it would be someone who was an outsider like him, someone who didn’t belong here. But the normalcy of seeing a man being beaten told Aaron the new man was part of the group. Hotch’s neck hurt as he made eye contact with the man. He had sandy blond hair and clear grey eyes. The look of surprise and innocence quickly left the young man’s face before anger and hatred took over. Aaron dropped his head not sure what was happening but unable to support his own head. Because of this, he didn’t fully understand why the arms that were holding him up suddenly slacked and there was a heavy scuffle of feet as the floor came dangerously close. Before he could reach the ground there was shouting and then a loud popping sound that Aaron realized was a bullet once he felt a searing hot pain tear through his side whipping his body back and to the ground. The pain was worse than anything Aaron had already felt before now. The pain was so bad that he struggled to get oxygen in and his vision went black for a few seconds before he took a huge choking gulp of air in which only blinded him with more pain. 

While Hotch was writhing on the ground trying to get a grasp of what had happened and not blacking out, the older, more seasoned members of Roman’s gang stood for a brief moment of silence, as the men realized what had happened before an uproar started. They dropped their victim and rushed to the newest person in the bar throwing the gun from his hand. Roman stumbled out of his chair, face turning red with rage as he took a breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, “What the fucking hell are you doing Davies? What the mother fucking hell!” Spittle flew from his mouth and Davies, the newest, and youngest recruit to LeBrants' cause swallowed nervously. He hadn’t expected this response. He thought he’d get praise for his actions as he was always told to take bigger steps and take risks for the cause. Greg, one of the senior circles slapped Davies in the face and said, “Roman’s talking to you. Answer him.” Davies stuttered as he said, “That’s the guy that put you away. I thought that I should put him where he belonged. Hanged from a noose or underground. I ain’t got no rope, so I shot the fucker.” Davies was all in and zealous for the group's beliefs and in his case. Roman bowed his head and muttered “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath. 

LeBrant came back to the moment when Aaron let out a soft whimper and placed his hand over his stomach where blood was pooling dangerously fast beneath him and onto the ground. Even in his agonizing state, Aaron knew that the most important thing was to try and stop the flow of blood as much as possible. If it was instinct or training, Hotch couldn’t be sure with the pain he was in. For now, all he could do was try and survive. Roman was thinking the same thing for himself as a multitude of options flashed in front of his mind. He was the leader and he needed to act like one as Davies looked at him like a deer in the headlight while the rest of his men glanced uneasily between Aaron’s hunched-up body on the floor and their leader. 

Roman cleared his throat and took a more secure stance, with his feet apart and chest out. An idea was forming in his mind and he just needed his people to fall in line. Roman looked at Davies first and said, “It’s alright son. You did well shooting the fed. He earned it.” With those words, the men seemed to relax a bit and one knelt down next to Hotch to see the damage. Roman nodded a self-soothing gesture before saying, “Okay. Steve. Get us a trash bag or something to stop the blood so it will be easier to clean. Let’s do that first.” Steve rummaged through his back bar and tossed a roll of saran wrap and tape to Greg. Hank another senior member moved next to Greg and asked Roman, “Are we saving his ass?” LeBrant scoffed and replied, “Funk no. Just don’t want the fucker bleeding all over. Now, wrap him up tight, and don’t make it too comfortable on him either.” Hank snorted back laughter and he pulled Aaron’s torso off the floor roughly. Hotch tried uselessly to stop anyone from removing his hands from the gunshot wound, but he was too weak to put up a fight. His large hands were slick with blood as he tried and failed. Greg took out the plastic wrap and pushed the roll to Hotch’s stomach causing Aaron to groan out in pain. The pair on the floor moved the roll over the agent's wound minimally stopping the flow of blood. Davies watched as Aaron convulsed in pain on the ground. 

The young man had thought he would feel better killing a fed, but what he was seeing was making him want to vomit instead. When the seran wrap was taped tight over Hotch’s blood-soaked shirt Roman instructed, “Greg, Hank, Davies, go take Agent Hotchner into the woods. Far away. I’d recommend the national park. Don’t kill him. Let him bleed out or better yet, let some animal finish him off. Take him in his car and then when you’ve dumped the body torch the car.” Everyone else, we’re cleaning this place, top to bottom. No drop of blood, nothing can be found here.” Everyone nodded and took on their roles quickly. 

Hotch was jerked back to consciousness as he was dragged out the front door. He blearily saw someone open the door to his SUV before he was placed in the back seat. His brain was thinking of trying to run, to call for help, but he was stripped of his phone and hardly had the strength to keep his eyes open. Davies was standing outside the car still not sure what to do exactly, and most certainly not sure how to feel. Roman looked out the window at the man that had the potential to fuck his life over again. He turned to Steve and said, “Go out there and kill Davies. Headshot, make it fast, and don’t let him suffer.” Steve looked up at Roman and said astoundedly, “Roman?” LeBrant turned to Steve and said, “You heard me. The kid’s a liability. I am not going back to that shit fucking hell hole of a prison cell, and Davies seems to be trying to send me there, so go out there and get the job done. Put his body in the truck with Hotchner and tell Greg and Hank when they set the car on fire to leave Davies's body in there.” 

It was with blind adoration that Steve hesitantly grabbed his rifle and stepped outside. The young man was still standing while looking at Aaron’s SUV as Greg and Hank looked at a map to decide where to drop Aaron off to have his last few moments of life. They were arguing about accessibility, getting the car in without being seen, and lugging the agent out into the middle of the surrounding forest. It had to be just right without the chance of anyone catching them but still able for two men to pull off alone. They didn’t trust Davies for shit. He was too green for the whole operation. Not trustworthy in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Aaron had gathered some of his bearings in the back seat. He was unhappy with his supine position in the back. It would be far too easy for him to be taken out quietly and quickly after the SUV had pulled away from the bar. While Aaron was waiting for something to happen, he pressed his left hand to his side tightly, grit his teeth, and used his right to slowly inch himself up to a seated position. He was well aware that this position was causing him to bleed out faster, but at this stage, life didn’t seem too long, and if he was going to go out, he would understand as much as he could as to what was happening around him, and if possible, leave traces for the team to find his body after. 

The thought hurt Hotch as Jack would lose both of his parents. Aaron held himself back from crying, but the idea of his son being alone tore at him just as badly as the hole in his torso did. Aaron did not expect to see what he did. Just as his eyes got high enough to see out the window, the young man who had shot him had his name called from the porch of the establishment. Davies was about five feet from the bar and turned around. He didn’t see the shotgun in Steve’s hand, but Aaron did. There was nothing Hotch could do but close his eyes just before the blood splatter and brain matter painted the tires of his car. Aaron fell back onto the seat, not expecting to see an execution like that. He was too beaten to get back up, but at least he was laying on his side instead of on his back which would afford him a look out the front window so he could see where he was going or try and make mental notes of some landmarks; assuming that he wasn’t going to be blindfolded. From the state of things outside and groups shouting at each other, Hotch didn’t think that those dumping him would do anything more than take him far out and drop him. 

A few moments later the back door was opened again and several men heaved Davies's body onto the floor in the back of the car. Aaron didn’t focus on the body apart from unintentionally seeing what was left of what had been a youthful face. He was unrecognizable now. Hotch closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the ride to come. If he survived long enough he’d think about the man on the floor -- later, much later. Right now he centered his head on Jack, then on the team who were on a case in Ohio. Lastly, he tried his best to listen to Hank and Greg as they got in and revved the engine. 

They were silent as they slowly drove out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel and Aaron’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. It was clear to Aaron that the two men in the front were remaining quiet so Aaron wouldn’t have any more details about them, their plans, or the organization. He and the BAU had taken Roman down once, and they didn’t want to be in that frying pan again. As they hit the main road, Greg, who was driving, stayed just at the speed limit to not attract any attention from passing cars even though there were none on the road. However, as the car started hitting bumps, Aaron couldn’t hold in his pained grunts and whimpers as searing pain shot through him with each unexpected dip or rise in the SUV. It seemed that Aaron’s pained sounds were too much for the men, and they looked at each other and then the downed agent in the rearview mirror before they both started a light conversation that was fully juxtaposed to the gruesome scene around them.  

The men began talking about the weather and then talked about their wives. Aaron could hardly hear the conversation as he tried to keep himself awake. The duration of the car ride took about half an hour, and Aaron noticed one very strange-looking tree that had been struck by lightning and bifurcated down the center almost perfectly. His brain had started to be pulled into so many different directions as his sanity slipped away from the blood loss. His brain wondered how many trees like that got struck annually, and he knew that Spencer would have an answer to that question. The team flashed before his mind when an abrupt halt of the car almost had Hotch fly into the seatbacks in front of him. He managed to not have that happen, and shortly after Greg and Hank were at the left side of the car and both grunted as they pulled Aaron by the legs out of the car. 

Hotch almost hit the muddly path, but the two men held onto his underarms jostling him back to awareness. As strong as these men thought they were, they hadn’t realized just how hard it was to drag a limp body around, and Aaron had no strength to walk on his own feet and no desire to help in his own demise. In fact, if he could make it harder for them, he would. So Aaron coughed and made sure that some of his spit and blood got on the ground. Not only that but he also dug his toes into the earth so his tennis shoes left little trails in the mud. Hotch knew that if he was dealing with a more competent group, they would do something about this now, but Greg and Hank were too busy hauling him along to care at the moment. Greg was significantly taller than Hank and due to this, Aaron’s left side was far lower to the ground making the weight distribution of his toned body uneven. After only ten minutes, once the trio had entered what seemed to be a secluded and wooded part of the forest, the shorter man who was carrying the greater bit of weight grunted out, “Let’s dump him here. I can’t keep doing this and then have to trash a car too.” Greg, who was also tired agreed and they dropped Aaron like a load of bricks and took off as quickly as they could discussing loudly that there was a cliff face nearby and it was unlikely that anyone would find Aaron for days. Hotch moaned slightly and took in the scent of the wet earth near him. He supposed that dying in the forest, in nature, wasn't the worst place to go. It smelled nice and if he could only turn over he’d see the sky and canopy of trees above him once more. As his vision started fading again he realized he might not have that chance. 

Nearby Aaron’s dump site, y/n had been on a four-day long backpacking trip. They’d asked their boss for the Friday and Monday off months ago. y/n had needed a chance to unwind, be alone, and potentially scream into the void. That type of behavior didn’t normally fly in their apartment and they were feeling so much more at peace after their first day of hiking. y/n had found a lovely spot to set up their small one-person tent for the evening. When y/n had gotten up the next morning and looked down the tall rock ravine, they saw the bolts in the wall from previous climbers. They regretted that it had rained the last night making any climbing impossible. y/n considered continuing moving along the twenty-five mile trail they had mapped two months before, but realized that they weren’t with a group and they were already almost halfway through the trail and could finish hiking it in a full day. Because of this, and because y/n had promised to do whatever they felt like on this trip, they decided to stay in that spot for the day. It was a bit off the beaten track which is what they wanted and in all honesty real life had been so stressful recently that just taking a day to sleep, read, and swim in the nearby river sounded like exactly what y/n needed. 

y/n slept in another hour before making a cup of _c/t_. While they sipped their steaming cup, they picked up their most recent book and took a few minutes absorbing the pages of the story making small mental notes about where the plot might go and if some twist was coming in the next chapter. Somehow all the books that y/n read ended up having weird twists that they loved to hate. After getting through their drink and feeling warmed, y/n changed into light hiking attire that could be stripped down for a dip in the lake as long as the water wasn’t too cold or full of bramble from the rain last night. It was a short hike down to the water's edge and it was crisp, but not too cold to for a midday swim. y/n laid a towel down on the rocky shore after getting out of the water and drying off in the warmth of the sun. They dozed on and off as they tanned for a bit. Not that y/n was a vain person, but with the oncoming of summer, having a bit of a tan couldn’t hurt. When y/n was happy with their time by the lake, they moved back toward their tent and supplies which they had put in a bear bag and lifted high above the ground. It was about a thirty minute walk back to the tent when y/n would plan on what to do with the rest of their free day. 

It felt wrong to just waste such a pretty day. When y/n was close to their campsite, they stopped in their tracks abruptly. The sound of voices and heavy footsteps is what made them halt. y/n’s stomach dropped for some reason. If they were on a more well-known trail or popular camping site, y/n would likely greet those on their walk in the opposite direction. But this was different. This area was secluded, off the beaten track. And from the sound of it, it was two men moving slowly nearby. y/n had spent enough time outside camping and backpacking to hear loads of horror stories of those having bad things done to them on the trail. Sure some of them were overembellished, but certainly not all of them, and y/n wasn’t willing to take the risk with their own safety. y/n slinked back into the brush and hoped that the men would stop before catching sight of their tent. y/n took slow soft breaths and waited, all there was to do was wait. Just as the footsteps seemed to be right on them, they stopped. 

y/n couldn’t see the men. They’d stopped just out of sight. As they stopped, y/n realized that something was very, very wrong. The strong breathing of the men had hidden the sounds of another person. Someone who was clearly in pain. Their breathing was raspy like air wasn’t fully supplying their body. There was also a very painful-sounding grunt as the injured party hit the ground. One of the men said, “Fuck, that’s hard work. I don’t believe Roman’s stories now about all his brawls and picking people up in the clanger now.” There was a grunt and another, deeper voice replied, “Shit man, I don’t believe half of his crap, but he’s the boss. He says jump and I jump. Now let’s get back to the car and torch it. The agent here won’t last long.” The first voice agreed and said, “Yeah. I need a shower and another beer. Let’s hope it’s all cleaned up by the time we get back to Steve’s.” 

y/n felt like they couldn’t stand still any longer. The desire to take a deep breath of just look out to see what was happening at the men who were talking pulled at them like an itch. But not all itches should be scratched. Some needed to not be disturbed, and it felt like torture, but y/n held back from moving until the sound of chatter and footsteps were long gone. Even after they were out of audible range, y/n waited. After another few restless minutes, they got up from their hiding position. From the sound of it, someone, perhaps someone unsafe was very injured. Even so, it wasn’t like y/n to leave someone hurt to fend for themself. With caution, y/n moved through the low brush and mud, and after a few paces, they noticed a man lying on his stomach. It didn’t take y/n more than a second to realize that the man on the ground, even if he was some hardened criminal, was unable to fight. Besides this fact, there was the comment about the “Agent not being around long,” so the man might have been on the opposite side of crime. Without hesitation y/n moved next to the prone form in the mud and set down their backpack. The man gave a small sound, perhaps aware that there was someone else near him. y/n looked over the man and noticed the saran wrap around his torso. It was a poor attempt to staunch the flow of blood from a bullet wound. Given how much blood the man had lost, there was no time to lose in getting the man medical help. 

y/n knelt down next to the man and noted the thick blood coating his forehead and brow. y/n patted his shoulder, and he managed to open his eyes. Aaron could see the blurry figure of someone kneeling in front of him. He thought it was a hallucination until they touched his shoulder and tried to say something to him. Understanding the stranger's words was beyond all comprehension to him now. y/n could tell that he didn’t understand or see them well, but at least he was awake. It would be in his best interest to keep him awake. If the man slipped off to sleep, he may never wake again. So with that in mind, and to try and keep him in as calm a mindset as possible, y/n took off their jacket which they had tied around their waist, and placed it on the man’s back. It would do for a bit of padding and something to soak up the excess blood. There was no need to cut this side of the plastic wrap, and why it had been added in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the main goal right now. The main goal was to stabilize the man for long enough until medical help arrived. y/n grit their teeth and said firmly. “I’m going to roll you over onto your back and then run to my tent and grab some supplies while I call 9-1-1 for you, okay.” 

The man didn’t make a sound, but y/n knew that shifting his weight was going to be painful, so they didn’t waste more time. Given the man’s parlor, there was no time to waste. y/n grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip and tried to slowly and carefully roll him onto his back. As soon as y/n pulled their hands away, which were slick with blood, the man groaned in pain as his body settled. He was still awake. y/n cringed to hear him and said, “I’m going to run to my camp, get some supplies, and call in an emergency helicopter. I’ll be back in five minutes max.” y/n swallowed thickly trying not to be sick at the sight of the man. They grabbed his right hand and placed it over the bullet hole. The man’s hand was crusted over with blood, and it was large. His fingernails had dirt caked under them, and y/n imagined that it might be painful when he got washed up with all the hair his arms had on them. y/n snapped back to the moment. It had only been a millisecond, but in moments of high stress,  they always found themselves focusing on the smallest, most insignificant things. They shifted their eyes to the man’s and he seemed to be locked on theirs. y/n nodded their head and said, “Hold your hands here, as hard as possible, okay.” The man nodded slightly, and with that, y/n got up and ran toward their campsite. 

It was in moments like these that y/n hated that they didn’t always carry their cell phone with them when they camped alone, but then again, they hadn’t expected to find themselves in this situation either. y/n was an experienced outdoors person. With friends and family that respected and highlighted being self sufficient and being able to take care of one’s self. In their world being unable to handle any situation was a weakness and therefore y/n had pressed themselves to always be prepared. This included knowing basic first aid and other skills that were more niche to their interest in spending a lot of time outside. Although it had been hard to be a parental figure and having to figure out being self-sufficient from a very young age, the parentification had equipped y/n for moments like these, and for meeting strange men in the woods if it ever came to that. y/n ran as quickly and as carefully as possible. It would be no good to anyone if they slipped and twisted or broke an ankle or wrist before getting back to the man. The image of his bloody and bruised body was seared in their retinas. They hadn’t seen anything this bad, ever, and the questions on what had happened to the man and who he was came faster than y/n could process them. It was all a sickening blur. y/n made it to their camp and almost dove into their tent. They found their phone first which was still on the solar-powered charging brick. y/n checked for a signal and let out a small prayer of thanks that there was a signal. Even though they were pretty far out, a signal was more often present than not. And if there wasn’t, there were always ways to contact emergency services, but it would take longer, and there wasn’t time for longer right now.

         After one ring the emergency operator answered, “9-1-1, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.” The woman on the phone sounded calm, calmer than y/n felt. Their breath had picked up with all the running, and they had to clear their throat before saying, “My name in y/n, _l/n_. I’m at Shenandoah National Park on the east side camped near Ghost View Lake. There’s a man who needs a Medevac as soon as possible. He’s been shot in the torso, and he’s been severely beaten.” There were a few clicks on the other end of the line and the responder asked, “Are you with this man now? Is he still breathing?” y/n nodded, taking in the person’s words before saying, “I’m not with him right now. He was breathing when I left him. I had to run to my tent to call you and get my emergency supplies.” There was more typing and a muffled voice on the other end of the line before the woman came back on saying, “Please get back to the man as quickly as possible. Do you have any medical training?” y/n nodded saying, “Some, but not much. The bullet seems to have gone clean through though, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” As y/n was speaking, they began packing all of the important things to help the hurt man into their large backpack. By the time they had started zipping up the sides, the operator had told y/n to get back to the Hotch and light a flare for the helicopter to see so they could find a spot to land. The woman relayed that it might be twenty minutes or more before help came, and to keep the man awake if possible. As y/n ran back toward Aaron, they were given more specific instructions on what to do once they were back. y/n kept the woman on the line and as soon as they found an open and dry spot close to where they had found Aaron, they pulled out a flare and struck it against the cap of the flare. Once the melting hot red light burst from the tip like the tale of a demon, they set the flare on a smooth rock, far enough away from the wet brush and leaves to not start a forest fire. Once this was done, y/n moved as quickly as possible back to the man.

         Since y/n had been gone, Aaron felt his strength ebb again. Had the person said something to him? The world was dark again and he was beginning to feel numb. But the memory of the feelings of their hands on his, pressing against his stomach reminded him that they had been real, at least for a moment. Hotch also knew that sleep was death, and therefore grit his teeth and pressed against his torso again over his wound. The pain shot through him again, though his time was less intense; he knew this was not a good sign. Just as Aaron felt his hand slipping, he noticed a bright red light in the corner of his vision, and the person who had been with him before returned.

         y/n skidded to a halt in front of the man, falling to their knees saying, “Hey, you’re still with me. Good. You’re doing good. Help is coming, I promise.” y/n placed their hands on either side of his head and the feeling of their fingers on the side of his face had Hotch open his eyes slightly. Just the simple feeling of touch was a comfort, even if he was doomed to bleed out on the forest floor. Hotch pondered how funny small things became huge things when life was about to end. y/n noticed his brown eyes on them and said, “I’m just making sure your head is laying flat. Then I’m going to check your mouth to make sure you’re not going to choke on your own blood.” Aaron tried to nod, but he couldn’t manage it. y/n knelt further forward and helped Aaron open his mouth. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any blockage of his trachea, though his breathing was labored. Where or what that situation was, was beyond y/n, so they moved to the next thing the emergency operator had said to do. 

The woman was still on the phone, but y/n was so hyper-focused on the task in front of them, that they didn’t think to give a report on the man’s condition. While he was trying to see the person in front of him more clearly, y/n started pulling things out of their backpack and setting them on the ground, attempting to not get them muddy or contaminated while still being efficient. Once y/n had pulled out their small knife, their first aid kit, and the clean clothes they had, they rezipped their bag and moved to the man’s feet. y/n spoke loudly, so the man could possibly hear, “I’m going to raise your feet. Keep the blood going to your head as much as possible. y/n grabbed their bag and placed it just to the side of the man’s lower legs. y/n didn’t want to shift the man’s body much, if at all, so they had to have things in place. They took another sturdy breath and lifted his left leg just high enough to move their backpack under his knees. The man groaned and y/n said, “I’m sorry. Sorry,” y/n repeated one more time before moving the other leg next to the first. y/n knew that this would be the least of the man’s pain. y/n placed their hands on the ground and took another stabilizing breath, reminding themselves that they could do this. That they could do anything, that they had had to do everything. y/n tried to picture the man as someone they’d protected in the past. Someone that they would do anything for. This helped y/n in moving forward to the next step. Before doing what needed to be done, y/n looked at the man again, tapping his face. Those big brown eyes met theirs again, half understanding, half sad. y/n said more softly this time. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Try not to bite your tongue. Keep your teeth clenched,” y/n demonstrated, “like this.” y/n they looked a fool, but what else could they do?

         y/n pulled a packaged sanitary wipe from the ground and ripped it open. They rubbed it over their hands thoroughly. When the moisture had evaporated, y/n grabbed their first aid kit and pulled out all of the cotton balls and cotton bandages that were inside. y/n placed them on top of the kit and hoped the no wind would blow the supplies away, there were already scant few as it was. Next, y/n grabbed their knife and opened it with a flick of the wrist. y/n knew that once they made the next move there was no going back until the medics arrived. With a look of determination, y/n shifted forward and carefully slipped the tip of the knife under the plastic wrap covering the man’s front. His shirt protected his skin from the sharp blade from cutting him further, and y/n cut up and out with as much care as possible. The blood made the surface of the saran wrap slippery in y/n’s free hand and the multiple layers were not as easy to cut through. However, after what felt like an eternity and with y/n’s heart beating loudly in their ears, the plastic was freed from his body. y/n quickly closed and locked their blade and pushed the plastic barrier aside along with Hotch’s soiled shirt. Even though the saran wrap hadn’t done much to stop the blood from leaving the man’s body, it’s removal along with the final absorption barrier being pulled aside allowed the blood to ebb up a bit more in a trickle of crimson. Again y/n didn’t have time to look at the deep red pooling up on the man’s stomach. Instead, they grabbed a cotton ball and with as much mental strength as they had, pushed it into the weeping wound. The man’s body jolted in pain, but y/n ignored him and grabbed another piece of cotton and then another, pushing each of the white puffs into the bullet hole. The clean cotton was instantly stained red, and y/n tried to ignore the man’s cries of pain knowing that this was for the best. Keep the blood in the body, get his legs up, keep him awake. That was what the nurse had said and what was what they were going to do. At least to the best of their ability. Another eternity later, the hole was filled. It was still releasing blood but at a slower pace.

y/n grabbed the biggest cotton bandage they had and pressed it on top of the packed wound. y/n placed both hands over this last dam, and pressed down to try and keep the man stable. To keep him alive. It wasn’t until all of this had been accomplished that they managed to look up at his face. The man’s eyes were drooping closed and y/n said, “Hey, hey, stay with me. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” Aaron turned his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look at the person helping him. It was a comfort to be in their presence. He still couldn’t see them so he said in a low voice, “Hotchner.” y/n nodded, assuming it was a last name. They were at a loss for what to say next. Nothing felt right, so they opted for questions, easy ones. Or at least ones that seemed easy for them. “Hi, Mr. Hotchner. Where were you going today? What brought you this way.” 

Aaron, whose brain had been feeling numb for some time, had started getting more blood circulation thanks to his legs being lifted off the ground. He could feel his helper's hands still over his side. Where he was and what was happening felt beyond him again. He didn’t like the feeling at all, but his body was shutting down and he half-mumbled, “I’m going to see my wife. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” y/n, nodded and replied softly, “I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And I know you’ll be happy to see her.” It wasn’t until this point that y/n had thought about him as a person. Not actually as a person, person, but as a man with a life and things outside this very moment of survival. But as they raised one hand and just barely shifted his hair that was caked with blood, off his forehead it became increasingly more difficult to see Mr. Hotchner as anything else than a man who is hurt and probably afraid to die. At the person’s touch, Aaron moved his dominant hand up and this allowed y/n to see that he wasn’t wearing a ring. This fact only came to y/n’s mind because Mr. Hotchner had just said that he was going to see his wife. y/n justified that perhaps the man was just one of many many husbands who didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for some reason, y/n didn’t think that this man would be one of them. Something in their gut just said otherwise. A moment later Hotch said something that would shock y/n even more as he said, “I’m worried about Jack. I can’t go away.” y/n looked up at him and moved their hand back to the now blood-soaked bandage and asked, “Who is Jack Mr. Hotchner?” 

The image of Jack passed in front of Aaron, and he saw himself holding his child, Jack smiling. Maybe it was Christmas time because the lights were twinkling in the background. Then Jack at his first soccer game came to mind, his little legs carrying him toward a ball he was sure to miss. Hotch blinked back tears as he came back to himself. Weakly he said, “My son. Jack is my son. He’s a good kid. Really good. He doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron was thinking about the very real possibility of his son losing both of his parents, but he didn’t vocalize that out loud. y/n furrowed their brow and said “You’re going to be fine Mr. Hotchner. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see your son and your wife again. I know it.” y/n was speaking to themselves now mostly. The trauma of finding someone brutalized in the woods and the possibility that he might die in front of them was finally settling in. y/n had experienced trauma before, but not like this. This was different. Thankfully y/n didn’t have much time to explore this train of thought as the sound of the helicopter approached nearby. y/n bowed their head in thanks for the sound that drowned out their thoughts and didn’t even realize that they had set their head on Aaron’s chest while still keeping their trembling hands on his wound. 

When they arrived, it took the emergency medics a moment to pry y/n off of Aaron as they struggled to let the man they were trying to save go. When y/n realized what was happening, they moved off to the side on unsteady feet and watched the flight paramedics assess and then begin rudimentary efforts to stabilize their patient. y/n watched as a blood transfusion was started and the packing of the bullet wound was made better with medical-grade supplies. These things felt like a blur and as the two-person medical team began moving Aaron onto a stretcher, the sound of police sirens in the distance became audible. y/n realized that the helicopter operator had shared the patient's location and law enforcement was coming to help. This allowed y/n to relax slightly realizing that they were not going to be left alone in the woods once the Medevac was gone. 

Although y/n had felt peace knowing more help was on the way, the questions seemed endless as police arrived and went over the course of the afternoon again. They pointed out everything. Said as much as they could remember and watched as the orange helicopter lifted off and moved Eastward. The last thing they heard from the trauma team at the hospital was, “We have a multisystem failure. Patient is already on a transfusion and Fentanyl…” as they passed by,. y/n’s brain now felt like scrambled eggs and they longed for some respite. Eventually, the police said that y/n would need to come to the station and that they could get a ride in one of the cruisers. Behind y/n’s back, the officers also noticed that y/n should also go to a hospital, and driving there themselves was not a safe idea for them. A few minutes later, y/n tipped their head against the headrest in the backseat of the police car simply letting things happen to them at this point. The officers had assured them that a recovery and crime scene team would gather their belongings from their campsite along with their car. This was all for evidence too, but y/n was too tired to comprehend what was being said to them. 

A few hours later y/n made it out of the room they had been seen in at the hospital. It was very dark outside at this point but the police had easily identified the man they had found, Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. The words ran over y/n like a wave. Anything would bowl them over now, but finding out that they had found a federal agent near death in the woods was astounding. In the hospital, y/n was given a thorough exam and then given some strong sleep medication and some Benzos so that y/n could have a sound night’s rest. The local police station had called the Quantico Field Office to let the Beaure know that Agent Hotchner was in critical condition at the JFK University Medical Center.

 As it turned out the BAU was out on a case at the moment, but the Lead Team Coordinator said they would reach out. Within the hour the hospital and police station knew that a member of the BAU was flying up immediately on their jet and should be there sometime around three in the morning. With this information in mind, the police had asked y/n to stay at least one day in town before going home. The very professional-sounding man, Agent Rossi, who was headed to the hospital had asked them to stay and talk. The police had made the choice easy by booking a cab and a room to get y/n from the hospital to the hotel room they had booked in their name. Thankfully, y/n’s boss, after a few minutes of explaining what had happened, had given them the rest of the week off. y/n knew they would need it. Nothing felt quite real anymore and some more time alone would be good. Before y/n went to call the cab, to get a shower and sleep, they stopped at the receptionist's desk and asked, “Do you know if Aaron Hotchner is in a stable condition?” The nurse asked them how they knew the patient and y/n showed their own medical bracelet and explained that they had found Mr. Hotchner. The man looked at y/n and how tired they appeared, nodded, and replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about the patient” There was a long pause before they added, “However, Mr. Hotchner is still in the ICU.” y/n nodded, wanting more information but also knowing that they had already been told more than was allowed. With that scant information, y/n moved outside and caught their ride. 

The first thing that was surprising to Aaron was the fact that he woke up at all. The feeling of the stiff mattress against his fingers and the crisp sheets covering his body. The sterile scent of antiseptic was the next thing he noticed. He took a few moments to just take in the fact that he had survived the ordeal with Roman. Much of what had happened after the beating in the bar was foggy and beyond his reach. He tried to take a deep breath to center himself but that was a serious error as this triggered parts of his body that weren’t ready to be used that way yet. He let out a cough only exacerbating his pain. The feelings of multiple IVs which he detected now became more apparent and when he opened his eyes, the blurry figure of someone standing came into better focus as the door to his room opened letting in more light from the hallways. As his vision cleared, he could see Dave turn around and greet someone who must have been a doctor. Rossi stepped back a bit, but just knowing Dave was here let Aaron be checked over and taken care of. He didn’t have the energy for much more than being pocked and very lightly prodded before he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

The next time Hotch woke, he was more aware. The room didn’t spin and he could see Dave looking down from his seat near the hospital bed. Aaron didn’t know what to say and just said, “Hey.” At hearing Hotch, Rossi sat forward in his seat and softly replied, “Hey there. Looks like you had a hell of a time with Sean.” Sean hadn’t even crossed Aaron’s mind, but Dave’s attempt at humor while he was feeling like hell was actually funny and Aaron let out a half scoff, half laugh before leaning his head back on the pillow. It wasn’t until he tried to move the blanket to feel more covered that he realized his arm was in a cast. His whole body felt numb, and in that moment, he was grateful for opioids. Rossi moved forward and moved the blanket up and over Aaron’s shoulders. Hotch looked up at Dave and asked, “How bad?” Rossi’s eyes moved toward him, a sure sign that it wasn’t good. After a deep breath, Dave said, “You lost a lot of blood, you’re fighting an infection, concussion, broken arm, and multiple lacerations to your head and body.” Hotch nodded, absorbing the information before saying, “Yeah, Sean really did a job on me.” Rossi could see regret in Aaron’s eyes even though the statement was an attempt at a joke. Dave frowned. Something had happened with Sean and it wasn’t fair to Aaron after being through such a crucible that he should feel bad about anything at the moment. Dave thought about reaching out and patting Hotch on the shoulder, but it was likely Aaron wasn’t looking for touch right now, so he settled with telling his best friend that the team was coming to find LeBrant, who had gone into hiding, and how Jessica would bring Jack down when the doctors said it was okay. Aaron nodded again, thankful that Dave knew him so well. When Rossi had given him some time to just relax and center himself, Aaron asked, “Who was it that found me? Have you seen them?” All Aaron could remember about the person who had saved his life was that they had stayed with him. That their presence, even if he had died, had made him feel safe. 

Rossi replied, “I haven’t seen them yet, though I’ve asked them to meet me here. There are some questions I still have about their report. They should arrive in a few minutes, and that way you can have some time alone if you like. I did read about them, they’re name is y/n y/l/n y/a and they live in Virginia.” Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling dry before saying, “I’d like to see them when they come. If they’re comfortable with it.” Dave nodded and replied, “I’ll ask them when they get here. For now, just try and rest. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll get the nurse.” Aaron nodded and let his eyes slip closed again. He could sense that Dave was keeping things from him, about what he couldn’t tell, but he’d ask in time, for now, he was alive. 

y/n entered the hospital again. This time it felt better. They were going to get some answers, hopefully, or at least some information about Agent Hotchern’s condition. They’d answer more questions about that information. After the last few day or so the thought of Mr. Hotchner hadn’t left their mind. y/n went to the receptionist who paged another party in the hospital and after a few minutes, an older man walked into the hallway. y/n could tell that he was Agent Rossi instantly. His clothing and demeanor gave him away, along with the deep circles under his eyes. y/n turned toward the man and extended their hand toward him. Rossi gave y/n a reassuring smile and as he took their hand said, “Hello. I’m Agent Rossi. You must be y/n y/l/n?” y/n nodded yes and said, “Yes Sir. That’s me.” Dave gave a small laugh at being called sir, and gently led y/n to a seat on the far side of the waiting room. They both took a seat and there was a moment of awkward silence as they both made mental observations about the other. Finally, y/n said, “Agnent Rossi, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about my report, but could you tell me if Mr. Hotchner is alright?” Dave dipped his head and pulled himself together saying, “He’s doing better. He’ll have a hard and long recovery, but he’ll be alright. Hotch has gone through a lot, he’ll make it through this too.” y/n listened thinking about the type of person that can say with confidence after such an ordeal that they would make it though. It seemed like a lot, but Mr. Hotchner was clearly cut from Kevlar. y/n replied, “Thank you for telling me. Now, um, what questions did you have for me? I wrote down some notes to try and jog my memory.” Rossi lifted an eyebrow as y/n pulled a notebook from their mini backpack and flipped to a page that had a neat, color-coded timeline of events. Dave smiled at this before saying, “I would like to look at your notes, but I have some questions of another nature to ask first.”

y/n looked confused about what Rossi had said, and he clarified stating, “I’d just like to know if Aaron said anything to you while you were with him?” y/n let out a breath realizing this was a more personal visit. This was to see how his coworker was, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. y/n felt bad for not having thought of that before now and swallowed, realizing this was going to be another layer they would need to unpack within themselves as well. After this thought had passed, y/n replied softly at first, “We did kind of talk, though I did most of it to keep my mind still.” Rossi nodded encouraging y/n to continue, which they did. “I did ask him where he was going and he said that he was going to see his wife. And that he was sorry for his son. He tried to say more after that but it was all sort of jumbled up.” y/n looked up, fresh emotions welling up in them at the remorse that Mr. Hotchner had shown while he lay dying. There was a glimmer of tears in Dave’s eyes too and y/n moved a hand to his comfortingly and asked. “Agent Rossi?” to check in on him. Dave sniffled and moved a handkerchief under his eyes before squeezing y/n’s hand back replying, “Please, just call me Dave. Aaron’s wife passed a little over a year ago. I, I guess I didn’t know what he would think about, but it would make sense.” 

Hearing Dave’s words, a pang of hurt shot through y/n. Suddenly Aaron’s words made more sense. He said he was going home and being sad about it. Jack’s name popped into their mind and y/n asked hopefully, “His son, Jack. He said he had a son. Is he okay? Is Jack with his mom?” Dave closed his eyes and replied reassuringly, “No. Jack is fine. He’s a sweet and hyper kid.” That thought, of Aaron’s son being there for him, made y/n feel better. It was strange for them, to have such intense and strong feelings for a man they hardly knew, but then again, they had been through a lot together. There were a few more minutes of silence as Dave processed and moved on by asking to look at y/n’s notebook and to ask questions for them. Looking at y/n’s notes and the very detailed recount they had written was precise and smart. Not perhaps like a profiler, but somewhat so. That conversation lasted about a half hour and Rossi could see that y/n was tired and he still needed to broach the topic of them seeing Aaron, so to take something off of their plate he began by saying, “y/n this has been very helpful for me, both as Aaron’s coworker and as his friend. I know you’ll need your own time to process and work through all of this but I might need to contact you again by myself or a member of my team. Would it be okay if I left you my number and I got yours?” y/f felt a hitch in their breath thinking that this might be over. All the adrenaline came to a big crash like a wave on the rocks. But it had to end sometime, at least they thought so, so they nodded yes. The pair traded numbers and then Dave said, “y/n, I know this has been a lot, but I was just with Aaron and he asked if he could speak with you if you’re up to it. If not, he’ll fully understand.” 

At the suggestion, y/n’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not that they hadn’t been thinking about the man twenty-four-seven since they’d first seen him in the woods, but the idea that he would even want to see them felt like a surprise. Curiosity suddenly turned into apprehension and for a second they thought about running out of the room for some wild reason. But y/n came back to earth and knew that perhaps this would be their only time to see the man they’d helped and it would hopefully make things feel more resolved, more final. And they’d have the peace of mind of knowing that he really was alright. So y/n nodded yes and Dave gave them one of his reassuring dad smiles and got up, leading y/n toward Aroon’s room. He flashed his badge when he came across anyone looking at him funnily. At the door to Hotch’s room, Dave knocked and opened the door slightly saying, “I’ve got a visitor for you, Aaron.” There was a muffled response from inside and then Rossi stood back and said, “I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.” y/n swallowed thickly and stepped into the room. 

The space was large enough for a chair or two by the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment that beeped on a cycle of minutes, keeping time. The lights had been dimmed and as y/n’s eyes adjusted, they took a small step closer toward the bed. Mr. Hotchner was all cleaned up from his blood-soaked state and now that he was visible, y/n couldn't help but notice how striking and attractive he was. y/n pushed that thought aside, it wasn’t the time. His dark eyes met theirs, and y/n said awkwardly, “Hello Mr., I mean Agent Hotchner, Sir.” Hotch let out a half laugh and said replied, “It’s alright, you can call me Mr. Hotchner, or just Aaron is okay.” y/n nodded listening to his deep voice. Different than how it had been in the woods. There was life in this version of him, and it made y/n feel better. y/n took another step forward, not sure what to expect. 

Aaron watched y/n move forward. They were young. Younger than a normal person should have to deal with such stress and anxiety. He could see their apprehension even as they stepped close to him. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you have a seat, y/n.” y/n did as he said feeling the authority in his presence even as he was in bed recovering. Of course, he wasn’t directing that toward them, just that that power was there in him. It didn’t surprise y/n that he was someone important in the FBI. y/n sat in the chair closest to Aaron so they could hear him better. y/n wasn’t sure how to act now. They wanted to say they were sorry about his wife. But that was too personal. y/n opted for just asking, “Are you feeling okay?” The words sounded hollow in the face of the pain he had experienced in his life. 

Hotch smiled slightly, seeing the struggle in y/n’s eyes. He was glad to see y/n. To really see them and know who they were given how they had kept him calm and feel safe a day ago. Once y/n was seated he replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time. I wanted to see how you are doing actually.” y/n’s eyes widened slightly. Shone in the darkness of the room. Taken aback they said, “I’m… okay. I always end up being okay in the end.” Hotch nodded, seeing himself in y/n instantly. Another survivor of a difficult life. It was easy to compartmentalize, and he didn’t want that for them. Not this young. So he said again, “I hear you. But how are you, really feeling?” y/n took a deep breath and tried to suppress the emotions before saying in a shaky voice, “Tired, scared and I don’t know why.” Aaron nodded in understanding. He moved his hand toward y/n, not sure what his intentions were with that movement. Hotch replied, “You don’t have to think about it all right now. But don’t let it out with someone at some point it will eat you up. Do you think you can take this?” 

y/n knew that Aaron was asking about just life in general. How overwhelming it could be after something like this. They had dealt with these feelings before, not like this, but close enough for y/n to say, “Yes. I can bounce back.” Hotch knew that response too. The bounce back. He didn’t want to pressure y/n to seek help, he’d be a hypocrite for saying so, but he worried. This person had saved his life and he didn’t want to see them crumble for it. Hotch took a moment and said, “Thank you for being there for me. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Not really thinking he added, “You made me feel safe in that moment. I didn’t know if I was going to feel that again.” There was a long silence after his statement as they both absorbed his words. The quiet was punctuated by y/n’s quiet response of, “You’re welcome. I’m happy I could be that for you, Aaron.” y/n looked over at Hotch and could see there was something there. A bond, a name whisper on the wind, or a star. It was a flicker for just a moment and it was gone, but they had both felt it, some of the overwhelming feelings they both housed within. 

In another moment Aaron said, “I’ll let you go, but I’m sure Dave has given you his number, but tell him to give mine as well. I may not be at my best right now, but if you ever need anything y/n, anything, you can give me a call.” y/n nodded and stood wondering if the last they’d ever see of Aaron Hotchner, and was at least grateful for having crossed paths with him. They brushed their hands over his hand for a moment before smiling, saying “I hope you are well soon, Aaron,” leaving the room. Aaron watched as their figure moved outside and stopped to talk to Dave for a moment then disappeared. 

Rossi entered the room and asked, “Do you feel better now?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Yes. Did you give them my number?” Dave laughed and said, “Sure did, office and cell.” Aaron huffed but then said seriously, “y/n will need protection for a few weeks at least.” Rossi replied, “Already on it. Or Garcia is on it. Knowing her, y/n will be getting flowers and chocolate for life.” Hotch laughed at the truth in that statement and felt better. Yes is sucked, this sucked, and his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and things would get better. Aaron’s mind flickered back to his fight with Sean and he laid back on the bed with a groan. Dave watched and eventually, Hotch said with his eyes still closed, “Would you call Sean for me?” Rossi had Sean’s number in case of emergencies with Aaron, Jack, or Jessica. Rossi had everybody in the team's close family on that list. Dave couldn’t help but say, “Why do I have to call him, if you do will he throw his phone out the window or something?” Hotch scoffed and replied, “Just about, but I need to talk to him.” Rossi understood and took out his phone and dialed Aaron’s younger brother before handing the line over to Aaron. 

Aaron had something planned to say, but Sean beat him to it saying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You don’t deserve it.” Hotch let out a breath and replied as lightly as possible, “You bet I didn’t. But I want to apologize too. I got hot-headed…” Rossi motioned for Aaron to ask if he wanted him to leave the room or not. Aaron nodded his head no, and Dave settled in his chair. As Sean and Aaron spoke, and attempted in their own ways to make amends, Aaron knew that things would get better. There was family, be it Jack, Sean, or the team, and there were people out there willing to help. The image y/n smiling down at him filled him with a strange warmth, and he let the image and feeling linger as Sean went on about his day.

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[bunni-v1]

Hi! For the 500 follower special, can I get L,O,Q and X from the sfw alphabet, for deuce, Lilia and malleus? Thank you <3

🍓I'm powering through the sfw requests, then I'll get nsfw, and then full lists in the same order. I'm so glad so many people requested, I just hope I don't let anyone down with my responses :/

I DROP MALLEUS LORE SPOILERS IN MALLEUS' OPEN PROMPT!!! (NOTHING BIG, BUT ITS MALLEUS LORE)

Deuce

L - Little Ones (how are they around children?): Oh, Deuce LOVES kids. He just thinks they're so cute and sweet and -- ugh, he wishes he had siblings to spoil. Equally, though, he's very nervous around them when he first meets a kid. I mean, they're so little? How are the so tiny and helpless? He just wants to smother them with affection, but he can't cause they might die if he does that.

O - Open (when would they start revealing things about themselves?): Deuce is a pretty open book from the start. He doesn't really have a reason to hide, and if you're his partner, why would he want to hide anything? So, you probably know most things about him before you even start dating, and then he tells you the more embarrassing things later down the line as you get more serious about each other.

Q - Quizzes (how much would they remember about you?): Listen, he's not good with the little things like favorite colors or what your favorite song is. But if you tell him what your favorite flower is, your favorite restaurant? He never forgets it. It goes in the long-term Deuce memory bank, forever categorized as incredibly important, but he has no idea why until he needs the information.

X - Xtra: Deuce is, surprisingly, very good with hair. He used to have to help his mom style hers, so he knows a ton of really cool tricks for styling it. Female, male, non-binary -- doesn't matter, he knows how to style your hair and it's going to feel like a GODSEND to your scalp.

Lilia

L - Little Ones: Lilia's favorite hobby is being a father of three, so it's safe to assume he loves kids. Just everything about them is so darn cute -- their stubby little arms and disproportionate bodies. Oh! He can't get enough. If he could raise a hundred more kids, he absolutely would love to!

O - Open: Lilia, unlike Deuce, is not open at all! He puts on this bright and cheery face so he can hide from his dark and fucked up past. You are the light of his life, his guiding start in the night sky -- he doesn't want you to know how much of a monster he is. It's not until you are WELL SETTLED in your relationship that he tells you about his painful past, the things he's done, and how badly he wishes he could take it all back.

Q - Quizzes: Oh, Lilia knows everything. His memory just seems endless, and no matter if you told him something today or years ago, he would remember it clear as day. Every little detail from the very basics to the intricate ways you go about doing different things, he knows and adores all of them.

X - Xtra: Lilia is very good at gambling -- just hear me out. He's incredibly observant and reads people better than they do themselves. Not only that, he's smart. He can sit down at any gambling game, any kind, even if he's a beginner, and walk away with as much money as he wants. He is a casinos worst nightmare.

Malleus

L - Little Ones: Children make Malleus... nervous. They're very little, and they seem very unaware of things around them, yet they have the confidence and demand of a well-established ruler. It's discomforting. Still, he did help raise (technically) two younger boys, so he does harbor some affection for children, he just has to get used to them for him to really enjoy them.

O - Open: It's not to say that Malleus is NOT open, it's just that he doesn't think to share things about himself. So he seems closed off, but really he's just thinking about gargoyles. He does this... thing, though, where he just... lore drops on you. Out of nowhere, he just "My mother died before I was born, and the love that Lilia gave me was enough to cause me to hatch, therefore, he is the closest thing to a father figure I will ever have." Kay... cool Malleus.

Q - Quizzes: He is so bad at keeping track of time, he will not remember 90% of the things about you. He will, however, remember the most random things. Like he doesn't remember what year you were born, but he knows your favorite character and all their lore. It's because he only cares about the things you care about a lot. If you talk about something frequently, he's going to go out of his way to learn more about it because it matters to you <3

X - Xtra: Malleus has an EXTENSIVE collection of Magic The Gathering Cards (or the test equivalent). He doesn't play the game, he has no idea how it works, but he really likes the collecting part of the whole thing. The art on the cards is pretty, and that was enough to fuel a whole collection.

[wildemaven]

Fun. Fresh. Flavorful.

pairing: dieter bravo x poppy f!reader

word count: 514

content warning: 18+ blog; talk of food, feeling full after eating, smut, licking fingers, barbecue sauce

note: sent @gnpwdrnwhiskey this tiktok because it reminded me of Dieter and she gave me this idea, so big thank you to her for beta’ing and encouraging me to whip this up for Dieter and Poppy.

series masterlist

The lock clicks closed as your body slumps against the wooden front door, your tired legs barely able to hold your satiated body upright. Dieter is already removing his shoes and coat, tossing everything in whichever direction his body happens to stumble to.

“Oh my god! I’m so stuffed!” You groaned, your fingers working at the button of your jeans, immediate relief once it’s undone. Your shoulders drop, relaxing further against the door with less pressure against your full stomach. 

“You’re about ready to be stuffed with something else.” Dieter says as he stalks towards you, now in nothing but his black boxers and socks. 

“You are the wor—“ Dieter cuts you off with a kiss, he still tastes of a distinct smoky-tangy-sweetness. His hands work their way under your shirt, you had been craving this since you both had left for your date a few hours ago, anticipating how your husband would be on you the moment you stepped through the door. 

“I'm about to give you the okayest weinerin’ of your life.” Dieter mumbles against your neck, his lips and tongue working together to cover every bit of exposed skin he can reach. 

“Just the okayest? That’s all you got in you tonight?” A moan races from your lips when he hits the sensitive spot right below your ear. 

“Pops, we were at Chili's, did you see how many ribs I ate— l am too full for anything more. Okayest is gonna have to do.” He’s an easy sell, and you’ll gladly take his okayest any day, because even then the sex is still satisfying. 

Dieter delivers more than okay or even okayest, your body buzzing after the two orgasms he pulled from you with his mouth and fingers. He somehow managed to maneuver you both to bed to continue his ‘weinerin’ as he had called it earlier. 

“Shit! Dieter— right there! Don’t— fuckfuckfuck —stop!” You whine to Dieter as he hovers over you, the blissed out look on his face signals he might be as close as you are. 

“I’m not stoppin’— you’re squeezing me so good, Poppy.” 

Your fingers scratching at his scalp, a few tugs of his hair have him groaning, silently begging for more. his curls damp and— sticky? You pull your hand from his hair, it’s covered in a thick red… sauce. 

“Dieter— babe, there’s barbecue sauce in your hair.” Holding your hand in front of him, your fingers cover the goopy liquid, prompting him to stop mid-thrust to inspect. 

Dieter leans his body onto the forearm that’s resting next to your head. He grabs your wrist to take a closer look. His brows furrow up, confused by your finding, trying to replay the evening and pinpoint how the barbecue sauce got in his hair. 

“Hmm. Barbecue sauce?” And without a second thought, his tongue glides up the length of your fingers, taking as much of the sauce as he can. He wraps his lips around the remaining sauce covered fingers, humming as he sucks on your tangy sweet fingers. “Fucking delicious, Poppy. Okay, where were we?”

[mlmxreader]

Dad | platonic!John Price x m!reader

Anonymous asked: hello, I was hoping you could do a price and m!reader ,with the reader being a young soldier in the 141 who price personally trained so there’s that sort of father son bond , with the prompt "this is the sixth fight I've had to stop you getting into, what's going on?". I kinda have an ideas that the reader keeps getting in fights with the older soldiers cause they don’t think the reader is deserving of being in the 141 but you don’t have to do specifically that. Thank you:)))

summary: Price’s treatment of you does result in some tension between you and the other soldiers. 

tws: swearing, violence, smoking 

Lazily, you stretched as you folded your arms across your chest, eyes feeling heavy as you yawned so harshly that your eyes watered and your jaw ached; Price had gotten you up early, said something about one of your old RAF colleagues coming over to see how you were doing, and now you were shattered. Price was lucky that he was family, if anything; after he had taken it upon himself to train you up when you first joined the army, seeing you all the way through to joining the RAF and then taking you under his wing so that he could train you for the task force before you joined it under his command, it was hard to think of him as anything else.

He was, after all, the one who had trained you, guided you, mentored you, educated you, clothed you, and on many, many, many occasions, fed you and gave you shelter; all the nights you had crashed on his sofa and had woken up in his bed, tucked in with a little note telling you that he was sorry, but he had needed to go sort something with the task force out and he had prepared your breakfast - all you had to do was to cook it. He came to every awards ceremony that you were a part of, cheered and clapped for you so loudly that you could never hear anyone else. He protected you whenever you got into fights with American soldiers, something he knew you were particularly fond of, always irritating them solely because you knew you could - he had to admit, he was pretty proud that you always won the fight, always took his advice to never strike first and to always hit them back twice as hard.

Often, he remembered the old book he had read when he first joined the military, and the one particular line that stuck out to him above all else: “Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.”

Price was family. 

As you started to doze off, though, you heard a few posh accents, and although you didn’t open your eyes, you listened closely.

“He’s only in the one four one because Price thinks he’s so fucking great,” one complained,

“It’s essentially nepotism,” the other huffed. “He’s not worth shit - he’s too young, and doesn’t have the right education, to know what real soldiering is.”

“Yeah,” you spoke up. “It’s almost like not spending my entire life pampered by Mummy and Daddy, living off of their money, has somehow made me weak - that right?”

“I’m so, so sorry, Sergeant (y/l/n),” the second shook his head. “I meant no offence, Sir.”

“You posh cunts never do,” you groaned as you got up, stretching again as you let out a yawn and shook yourself off. “Y’know, it’s almost like, because of my merits, I ended up here - not because Daddy paid off the General.”

The second decided that he had had enough, and took a step back as he apologised profusely; many of the other soldiers knew of your reputation for fighting with others solely because you could, and even more knew your reputation for winning in fights, so it was only natural that one of them would immediately back off - you couldn’t say it was unexpected. But the other didn’t, only huffed as he looked you up and down.

“You wouldn’t know real soldiering if it bit you in the backside,” he spat. “You shouldn’t even be here - you should quit before you get us all killed.”

“Oh,” you tutted, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. Is it the fact that I’m not rich, or posh, or privately educated an issue? Or is it the fact that Captain Price trained me, specifically, for this position and not you?”

“You shut up!” He screamed, tears in his eyes already. “You’re so fucking rude! Don’t you know I’m your superior?!”

You took a look at the patch on his shirt, and tried to bite back your laugh. “Says here you’re a private. I outrank you.”

You knew what to do, knew to irritate him into losing his temper so that he would throw the first punch, never expecting that you would hit back twice as hard and get him on the ground, hands on his shoulders for a second before you moved a hand to his throat and pressed down with the majority of your weight, watching him squirm beneath you. 

“(Y/N)!” 

You looked up, and when you saw Price’s face, you smiled. “Hi, Captain.”

“Get off of him,” Price said sternly, and for once, you obeyed an order, coming to stand in front of him. He folded his arms across his chest, and sighed heavily. “My office, now.”

You did as you were told, following him like a dutiful son; where you had spent so much time together, you even walked the same way that he did, and when he sat behind his desk, you chose to lean against the wall, folding your arms across your chest. 

“What can I do for you, Cap?”

“Don’t act cute,” Price growled. “This is the sixth fight I’ve had to stop you getting into, what’s going on? And don’t tell me that it was yanks again, I heard him speak - I know he’s a posh boy.”

“Then you oughta guess why I was gonna smash his skull in,” you pointed out. 

He frowned, licking his lips. “Older and posher soldiers… never change, they never fuckin’ change.”

“They said I was a nepotism baby,” you huffed. “All because of you.”

“You’re not a nepotism baby,” Price told you. “Sit down, (y/n).”

You did as you were told, resting your arms on the solid oak desk and resting your chin on them as you yawned again. “I’m tired, Dad, can’t you just get the shouting match over and call it a day?”

Price fell silent, clenching his jaw. That was the first time he had ever heard you call him that, and if he was honest, he wasn’t exactly sure how to react; sure, he definitely did treat you like you were his own child, maybe more so than the others, but he never thought that it would result in you actually calling him Dad… he swallowed thickly, doing his best not to smile as he watched you close your eyes and tilt your head to the side. He grabbed the blanket he kept spare, threw it over your shoulders, and scoffed. You didn’t say anything, probably already dozing off, and he couldn’t bring himself to reprimand you when you were so fucking tired; maybe when you woke up, if he could be bothered to remember; but he sat there, not bothering to correct you as he thought about it all. 

He trained you, fed you, clothed you, educated you, guided and mentored you, and if was honest, you were probably the closest thing he did have to a son; you would take over his position one day, he was well aware of that no matter how he looked at it, and he was glad that it would be you. He wondered if he could adopt you into his family, but then again, you were well over the age of eighteen, and he was pretty sure that formal adoption wasn’t the way to go; but then, you were listed as his next of kin - and he was listed as yours - on all formal documents anyway, and your postal address was the same as his, and he was your emergency contact… he might as well have adopted you. But as he looked at you now, dozing off on his desk, he couldn’t help but to feel a little guilty; it was because of him that you were getting bullied by the older soldiers, and he wasn’t aware of how he could put a stop to it - unless he got Ghost to shadow you constantly. 

“I’m sorry, son,” Price whispered, sitting opposite you as he lit up a cigar and checked his phone to see if Liverpool were playing. “It’s my fault they’re being a bunch of sodding bastards… I’m sorry, kid.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don’t wanna reblog, then you’ll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

[v3nusxsky]

Requesting a smutty Larissa x reader fic where the reader seems innocent, but Larissa finds out that the reader is a top with multiple tattoos and piercings.

My lovely anon I simply forgot to directly mention the piercings specifically. In fact I don’t mention them at all purely because in my mind r has her ear her seconds her belly button and maybe her nose pierced but it’s up your imagination bc everyone is different truthfully I don’t know much of piercing as I only have my ears done <3

Hidden meanings 18+

*Authors note~ I love this idea as I'm coming up with tattoo ideas for myself. I'm obsessed with meaningful ones that aren't completely obvious unless your someone very close to me. So the end of this is fully inspired by some thoughts of mine.*

Trigger warnings ~ tattoos, dominant r sub l daddy kink oral fingering strap degrading overstim if you squint

Prompt~ see ask^^

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Being a teacher with tattoos is always such a controversial subject. And as soon as you were introduced to tattoos you were obsessed. You'd gotten quite a few mainly hidden away by clothing, but none any less meaningful to you. For you, it was nice to decorate the body you were given and finally feel confident in your own skin. If a bit of ink and needles could do that then who was anyone else to moan. Also the fact you had a few piercings didn’t really please many of the parents. They were more visible than your tattoos yet you couldn’t see the issue.

Your ability for one was a slightly strange one, able to communicate with and see the dead but also being able to see things to come. That's how you knew those tattoos would be ones you'd love forever. So when others would say, "you'll regret it later" you just laughed internally knowing they were wrong.

Despite the tattoos you presented as a innocent young woman, and that's how your girlfriend, Headmistress of Nevermore, Larissa Weems thought of you. She'd not had the pleasure of seeing your additions to your skin as you hadn't been intimate yet. The day was approaching though, kisses lingering longer than the usual and hands roaming each others bodies over the clothing, desperately pawing at each other. You knew it would be time soon, but truthfully you weren't ready for Larissa to lose the innocent image she held of you. It's not that you didn't love who you are and how you are in that department, it was just the fear that she wouldn't see you as feminine anymore. Could even be worse than that, maybe she wouldn't like you being more dominant, her whole job screams dominance.

You and Larissa had a nightly ritual of snuggling up on her sofa in her office with a nice glass of fancy red wine and a roaring fire. It was lovely for you to decompress in such a manner and even then being in your girlfriends arms was something you never wanted to lose. Kisses began to be shared, and they weren't the innocent kind. The desire and need had been building up for months and now tonight it would finally come to head. And truthfully now I'm the moment, you couldn't be anymore ready. "Isa? Are you ready?" You murmured against her lips before nipping at her bottom lip, loving the reaction she gave you. She nodded and quickly found her way back to your lips. They were simply addictive.

You got brave and lead her to her bedroom expertly pinning her to her own bedroom door. Your lips making quick work of finding her pulse point and sucking it into your lips loving her moans and whimpers of need. Clearly, Larissa had assumed she would be dominant in this area of her life but she didn't seem to mind submitting here and now. It wasn't long before you stripped her of her work attire and left her in her underwear. Moving her from the door to the queen size bed you quickly straddled her hips, the power play of her being practically naked and you fully clothed was truly maddening.

Your dominance clearly driving the woman wild beneath you. She was whimpering and whining for more as you bestowed sweet kisses over her exposed skin. You truly wanted to make her feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet so tonight you'd take your time with her. Her silent plead for you to strip yourself of your own clothing was one you were happily to oblige with. Your tattoos were now on full display as you watched her eyes trail over them. Eyes darkening with lust. Your fears were pointless. She clearly loved what she was seeing and your dominance.

Soon enough you were both bare, and you had settled yourself in between her thighs, nips and kisses being placed up and down the inside of her thighs. The moment your tongue took a exploratory swipe of her soaked cunt, you couldn't help but moan at her taste. Diving back in you made sure to pay attention to her aching bundle of nerves and only when her sinfully delicious moans got louder did you slip two fingers in. With a harsh suck of her clit and a simple curl of your fingers that were now buried deep in her core she came with a loud cry of your name. You gently fucked her back from high loving how her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved beneath you. "Oh my darling Isa, did you think we were done? I'm just getting started my dirty girl, you'll give me more won't you? Give daddy more?" You all put purred in her ear watching as her hips attempted to buck into you almost pathetically.

Larissa was eager to please you, and you had managed to force orgasm after orgasm from her until she was a whimpering, mewling mess absolutely desperate for you to strap up for her. She directed you on where to find hers, and you quickly adorned it before settling in between her thighs once more. You began to tease her leaking core with the fake cock as she pleaded with you for more like the whore she was for you. "Oh doll, do you need daddy to make you cum again? Haven't you had enough darling? No? You need daddy's dick? Then beg for me Isa, beg for daddy"

Beg she did. You'd never had a women beg you quite so intensely and yet you couldn't say you minded. No her constant pleading and whimpers of how good you were making her feel had you slipping into her pussy and bottoming her out. Your thrusts were hard and fast thrusting your cock in deeper with every thrust. Just when she didn't think you could go any deeper, stretch her any wider, you did just that. All she could do is be a good girl and take everything you were giving her.

With the strap you'd forced another two orgasms from the women, until she was begging you to stop, "no more daddy please hurts" she whimpered at you watching you pull out the cock now absolutely smothered in her cum. She couldn't help but whine at the empty feeling watching through half lidded eyes as you rid yourself of the strap and tossed it aside. Your own wetness dripping down your thighs, only then had she realised you hadn't been given the same high as her. In fact you'd given her many orgasms but not a single one for her. So despite her tired limbs and fussy brain she managed to tug you to sit on her face. She lazily licked at your core, sleepiness trying to over take her yet her stubbornness and determination making her fight to bring you to pleasure. It didn't take much, you we're impossibly turned on from fucking her into oblivion that you feel over the edge embarrassingly quick. Like the good submissive she made sure to bring you down and clean you up really good before whimpering one simple half coherent word. "Cuddle?" You happily obliged chuckling at her, as soon as she made her way in your arms she passed out cold. It wasn't long before she joined you in the land of nod either.

Sun beamed through the unclosed curtains, illuminating the room and casting a golden glow over your skin. Larissa had stirred awake a few moments before you and simple took the time to admire your naked form. You lay on your back, the tattoo on your under boob that simply stated "one breath at a time." For you that showed your struggle over the years and how often you forgot to just take it one breath at a time, all through your abusive childhood that was something you tried to live by. Another tattoo on display as a cat in a moon surrounded by stars. Each start holding an initial, Larissa couldn't help but linger here when she saw the I in a star. Was that for her? On your thigh there lay a blue lotus flower. From the flower dangled some mandala chains. It was your biggest tattoo yet you loved it. The tattoo you woke up to Larissa tracing was the on your stomach.

You stirred, feeling soft fingers trailing over the star sign constellation on your stomach mumbling "mmm Isa?" In your drowsy state. "It's me darling I'm sorry they are just so beautiful, I know they have meanings can you explain to me ?" She murmured and you groggily explained each tattoo allowing her to trace and explore the skin she hadn't had the chance to last night. An innocent conversation soon ended with the older women in between your thighs,teasing your soaked core trying map your body and what made you twitch, squirm and moan. You most definitely could get use to this.

Word count~ 1567

[lu-twilights-pup]

Okay hear me out real fast, maybe like four, legend, and twilight with a s/o who gets injured protecting them BUT doesn’t understand why they are upset cause they are a important heroes and their s/o is just here

Its been a minute lol it i chose to do this with Legend!

D I S C L A I M E R S

fluff, mentions of injury, fluffy fluff.

——

Its had been about 5 hours since you had taken a hit for Legend. A stray bobolink managing to climb a horse and swing about its weapon came hurdling towards the veteran. He had been to focused on covering Wild, unable to hear the clopping hooves over the sounds of battle. But you did.

It was about 4 and a half hours ago that they had finally cleared out the monsters in the area. Miscellaneous bands of Moblins and Bobolinks of varying eras lay strewn about, piled on top of one another.

Now he sat in their makeshift camp, refusing to move from your side as you rested; providing a sharpened glare to those who pressed harder for him to rest on his own. A potion was all you really needed thankfully, and you were ordered to bed rest for the rest of the day and the day following. The gash along your head cleared rather quickly with the magical substance and left nothing short or a few bruises here and there. 

A few to many if you asked the vet. But he had learned early on in his travels to settle for ‘not dead’ when he could. 

You promptly passed out after being healed and settled into a spare bed roll. Legend offered to take first shift once you did, leaving absolutely no room for protest from the others.

He spent his watch starring into the fire, poking it to pass the time. He had hoped that if he didn’t stare you down out right, may haps you would wake up faster. Something about “a watched pot never boils” from Warriors rang in his head. Though he’ll give credit were its due, while time didn’t pass any faster—nor any easier—but it did feel like you had only been out forever, not quite an eternity.

By time he had convinced Four that he would take over the second shift as well, showing no signs of sleeping any time soon, you had begun to stir lightly. The world too bright and too dark all around you at the same time. Slowly the effects of fatigue swirling around your head, blurring together into a nausea, as you came too. The taste of potion still sat on you tongue, sticky and bitter. Your face scrunched as you sat up.

Waking up after a nasty blow always sucked. It was always a different time; a different place than where you were originally hit. You had no idea who else was injured, if you were safe, if you were alone. Your head throbbed with such questions.

“Are you alright? Anything sore?” Legend was quick to come closer to you. You barely made out what he had said, still trying to get the world to stop tilting.

Your voice was hoarse and crackly. “Potion tastes like ass.” Legend searched your face for pain before narrowing his stare.

“Good. Maybe that will get you to be more careful!” He prompted with an eye roll. He plopped down next to you and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Right back at you.” You grumbled lightly, attempting to sit up more, only for him to push you back down gently.

“I’m not the one who ran head first into a Bokoblin swing!” A quiet groan sounded across camp, stilling both of you for a moment. Waiting on baited breath until the sailor turned back over and began snoring once more.

“No but you’re the one who didn't see it and didn't move, so you almost were!” you huffed. “I don’t see what the big deal is, your safe and uninjured aren’t you?” You asked, looking him over, at least as much as you could from your spot on the ground.

“Yes but-“

“Then everything is fine! There shouldn’t be such a big issue.” You said turning away from him a bit, attempting to get up again, only to wince and fall back. Legend barely managed to cushion your fall.

"Such- there- ugh!" Legend let out an ugly laugh, but reeled in his voice before anyone stirred further. He gave you and incredulous look as he scanned your face. "Not such a big issue my ass! You got hit!"

"So did you!" You whispered, pulling the blanket around you tighter as you glared at him. Truly annoyed at his tone. "And so did Wild, and Sky, AND Time!!" gruffly you shifted in you spot. "But you aren't hovering over them when you ought to be making sure they're okay-"

"We already did! And non of them got hit as badly as you did! They got hit and got up, you were knocked out!" Legend hissed at you.

"But I'm fine, they might not have been! You might not have been!!''

“(Name) what are you talking about?!” Legend whispered, actually assisting you in getting up this time around. “You’re borderline concussed, this is not fine!”

“Yes it is!” You stared him down. “If something happened to you then it would be a problem. You’re more important.”

You’re more important.

Dozens of thoughts fly by his eyes. Countless scenarios and questions. Dozens and dozens of reasons why that simply wasn't true. A twinge of guilt that you didn’t think you were that important.

“(Name), what makes you think I’m more- That’s not- (Name), no.” His words bumped into each other and tumbles their way out of their mouth.

“Link, come one. Look at you. You’re a hero. You’re basically the hero. You’re on this quest thing, with all these other big heroes, doing all these amazing things. Saving people, towns, worlds for fucks sake. And I’m…well I’m me." Your shoulders tightened up before you slumped forward in a sulk.

"And I’m kinda just—well I’m kinda just here to tag along. If something happened to me then that’s that; but if something happens to you a whole world loses a hero, people will be in danger, th-“

You made a small 'hmpf' as a hand met your mouth. The faint smell of copper, salt and charcoal filled your nose.

“Breathe.” His voice was small and uneven, like he was holding his breath in hope you would do the same. His brows were drawn together tightly, a deep frown twitched below them.

You took a deep breath from your nose, once then twice before he let go of you.

"(Name). You're a hero, too."

"No, I'm just-"

"You are though. You help us in more way than you even know. You fight with us in battle, and you've seen just as much of this fucked up adventure thing that we have. Maybe this is your first time around—goddess i hope its your only time around—but that's still a time." Legend hand found it's way to your cheek.

"You don't need all the fancy weapons and magic shit we have or then divine intervention or the wagons full of trauma that we carry to be a hero." You smiled pitifully at his last remark. Stinging a bit when you remind yourself of the things he's had to do to get where he is.

You heart squeezed at the thought of being seen as part of the group. You feared going on this adventure with them; that you would forever be placed in the way of civilian, or worse civilian casualty, but you had made peace with it at some point. The chance to see when they see, to travel with such a group, and after becoming closer with them, the bonds you made made that morbid thought worth it.

The relationship you had developed with the prickly veteran drowned out any other fears you and about the whole thing.

"You are a hero in your own right, and you are just as important as the rest of those idiots, I'd say damn near more important. Goddess knows what I would do if we lost you out here. If I last you out here." You didn't notice when the first tears roll down your cheek till he swept them away. "There is no ignoring or refilling your space if you are gone, love" He squeezed your face a bit before allowing you to fall into him in an awkwardly sitting hug.

Just behind you he watched Twilight sit up in the night, alert to your weak sniffles. Though once his eyes met Legend's he nodded and laid back down, turned away in his bed roll.

Legend continued to hold you and rub your back as you clung to him.

"You're important to us, love. We love you, hell I know I do." He mumbled into your hair. Little by little, your sounds faded into the dawn. Your fears put out like the smoldering fire in the midst of the camp, replaced by the suns rays and Legends arms around you.

[eoieopda]

hello, ms jade!

i’d like to request a hobi x reader for the drabblepallooza, to the song “only for a moment” by lola marsh.

congrats on 1k!

- 🔭

this is a certified gd bop™️ and it gave me several different ideas that i really struggled to choose from?? i ended up assigning them numbers and then literally drawing one from a random generator lmao. anyways, here’s this!! 🤪

listen here

ft. fuck buddy hobi who accidentally stays the night. it’s implied that he and reader knocked boots the night before. brief reference to nudity, but def nothing explicit.

you stayed only for a moment / i said, "stay with me a while" / you faded like a pretty snowflake / that I was holding in my hand

When you wake up, it’s not due to the sunlight blaring through your never-shut blinds. There’s no insistent beeping of an alarm, no great clatter from the neighbor’s apartment echoing through your apartment’s crêpe paper walls. It’s warmth, surprising but perfect.

Your eyes open slowly. As they adjust to the light — seriously, you need to remember to shut your blinds at night — they settle on Hoseok’s face. Still asleep, his bottom lip flutters just slightly as he exhales through a barely-open mouth. He’s never stayed before. He came over often — weekly, for months — after dark; he was never still around when the sun came up.

This feels special. A little treat, entirely unexpected and exclusively for you.

Really, you could stare at him like this all day and never allow yourself to blink. You could map the heights of his cheekbones, the sharp L-shaped angle of his jaw, and the adorably upturned tip of his nose. Hoseok is beautiful, even while he mumbles through his dreams.

Maybe he feels the way you’re studying him. As if you’d flipped some secret switch, his eyes crack open.

Based on the shocked arches of his brows, Hoseok doesn’t recognize his surroundings. He doesn’t sit up to join you or say a word, so you both simply exist there in silence. The quiet seems to get louder as you watch his eyes scan over every surface of your room. Though he’s been here many times before, you can’t say that he’s ever truly seen it.

There’s a tiny twitch at the left corner of his mouth that prompts you to look at whatever he is: a framed photo of you and your older brother at your high school graduation. There you were, a decade ago, with your short, choppy layers jutting out like porcupine quills. You should’ve been held liable for the abuse your hair suffered at the hands of your flat iron. Those split ends are visible to you now, even from where you’re sitting. You can almost hear the way they sizzled.

Just like Hoseok, you continue to quietly assess that embarrassing old photo. Unlike Hoseok, you steal glances out of the corner of your eye to gauge the reaction. He’s smirking at the sight of you back then, thoroughly amused by the unfortunate fashion you flaunted. For you, it’s like watching a car crash: painful but compelling. You find it extremely difficult to look away.

Maybe you could forgive the unfilled eyebrows, barely registering on your uninhibited forehead. That said, you’d never get over the bright purple eyeshadow smeared — not blended — over your eyelids. There isn’t a darker color in sight to even hint at a crease? That poor, misguided baby.

You cringe a bit and glance over at Hoseok, who still hasn’t looked your way. “You stayed,” You state the obvious and try to stash the giddiness away, out of sight.

“It looks that way,” Hoseok’s voice is heavy with the sleepiness still lingering. Slightly scratchy, too. So, this is what he sounds like in the morning. He reels in the arm that had been extended under your pillow. Had he cuddled you at some point in the night? Then, when he’s free to do so, he scrubs his hands over his face to wake himself up more fully.

For the first time, his eyes flicker over to you and oh my god, you want to be the first thing he sees every morning.

“Can we make breakfast?” Hoseok asks quietly with a hand on his bare stomach. Oh. You beg your pupils not to dilate when you remember the state of him. “I’m starving.”

When your heart somersaults in your chest, it takes a considerable amount of willpower to keep from doing the same yourself. Instead, you slip out of bed like a normal human being, grinning and nodding a little too eagerly. Quick as a flash, you re-introduce your baggy sweatshirt and sleep shorts to your body.

As you head off for the kitchen, you steal a quick peek over your shoulder at Hoseok, who still hasn’t gotten to his feet. He’s upright now and facing away from you. The well-defined muscles of his back nearly have you stumbling.

Beautiful, even more so in daylight. Could you keep him — like this?

You make a beeline for your cabinets to figure out what you have at your disposal — not much — and then you turn to the refrigerator. Bent in half with your face in the cold, you holler, “Kimchi eggs or dakjuk?”

Hoseok had made no noise whatsoever as he entered your kitchen, so the suddenness of his voice right behind you makes you jump. Your head collides with the underside of the freezer door. With a yelp, you wheel around with your hand gingerly rubbing the forming lump.

Instantly, you note the way he grimaces. Gently, he reaches out and places his hand on on top of yours. “You okay?” His hand is gone again before he continues speaking, “I’m so sorry. I thought you heard me come in.”

You blink. Did he say something? You were still buffering through the feeling of this rare, non-sexual contact. He’d touched you a thousand times in places much more intimate, but this is what makes your stupid heart skip a beat?

“Kimchi eggs or dakjuk?” You repeat, barely above a whisper this time around.

Hoseok smiles at you. Then, he steps closer. You wait, wait, wait, for him to kiss you; he simply glances over your shoulder into your refrigerator. He chuckles when he comes to the same conclusion you had: you need to go to the store. Your heart drops a little lower in your chest.

“Kimchi eggs,” He hums, then he provides an explanation you wish he hadn’t, “I have to head out soon.”

You force a smile, then you nod, then you turn around to grab the carton of eggs and container of kimchi from their respective shelves. Hoseok moved again when you weren’t looking — the reflexes on that man are simply absurd — and he now digs through one of your cabinets for a pan. There’s no reason for him to know where you keep them, so he’s either psychic or a phenomenal guesser.

He looks pleased with himself when he turns back around with a frying pan in hand; the triumphant smirk on his face makes you giggle. When you reach out to take it, though, Hoseok wags his finger at you, “If I’m eating the very last thing in your refrigerator, the least I can do is prepare it for you.”

“Are you sure?” You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from admitting that no man has ever offered to cook for you before. If you tell him that, who knows what else you’ll let slip?

Hoseok answers by shooing you away and clicking on the bottom-right stove burner. To your surprise, he hums while he cooks — occasionally getting so caught up in the song that he sings. You watch adoringly with your chin in your hand as he finishes, plates his masterpiece, and sets yours down in front of you on the kitchen island.

He looks so natural as he plops down on the stool next to you, but Hoseok has never joined you in your kitchen before. You want to linger at his side all day, but you know that’s not how this arrangement works. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t ache a little, though.

Clearly, you’re both famished because your meals and breezy conversation are both finished too quickly.

To your dismay, Hoseok glances down at his watch. He sucks a breath in through his teeth before he looks up to meet your eyes. “Shit,” he says sheepishly, “I’m so sorry to leave you with the dishes, but I’m apparently going to be late for —“

“It’s fine!” You chirp with a smile you’re sure doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s not, but who are you to say so? “Thank you for cooking.”

He flattens his palms against the countertop and pushes himself to him feet. Casually and gently, Hoseok bumps his fist against your shoulder with a sideways smile.

The only thing he says before leaving is, “Go to No Brand or something later, okay? Your refrigerator makes me sad.”

[strwbrrykss]

𝖉𝖗𝖞 𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 | 𝖊. 𝖒𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓

{𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡} 𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝑂𝑛𝑒: Dry Humping 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟: Eddie Munson 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: THIS IS AN 18+/MDNI EVENT, language, brief mentions of female anatomy, dry humping (duh), Eddie ruins his last pair of clean jeans, hair pulling, hickies/marking, sub!Eddie, if I missed anything lmk!

[A/N: Day One let’s fucking go!!! I’m so excited for this event and I can’t wait to get into it! Across this event I will try and keep my descriptions vague to make it more inclusive to more readers, and it will be F!Reader, but if anyone wants a GN or NB!R version, don’t hesitate to drop me and ask! Please remember feedback is golden and reblogs go such a long way! Let me know what you think! - L]

                                                         -/-/-

“Babe?” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, caught your attention from the other end of his mattress. Your legs were tangled together, a cosy air around you with thanks to the heater just a foot or two away. Careful, you lowered your book to your lap and gave him your attention.

“Yeah?” His tongue poked out and ran along his bottom lip. Instead of replying, he began to crawl up the mattress to you, a devilish grin on his mouth as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Hmm... I’m not feelin’ it tonight, Eds,” you pouted with a sigh after giving him a peck on the lips.

“What’s the matter?” You shrugged, unable to place the feeling that had taken over your body.

“Just tired, I guess. S’it’s been a long week.” He hummed in agreement before you noticed a metaphorical light bulb go off over his head.

“What? What are you thinking about?”

“What if... Well, you wouldn’t have to do a lot of work -” he began, a sly grin twisting onto his sinfully pink lips.

“Go on,” you prompted slowly, dog-earring the page of your book and setting down on the nightstand.

“We wouldn’t even have to take our clothes off. Just let the friction do its thing.” And that was when it clicked into place what it was he was suggesting.

“I see. I think I might need a more... Hands-on demonstration,” you stated, warming up to the idea. His calf-brown eyes lit up and he eagerly pulled you towards him, letting your body fall back against the mattress.

“Well, we, uh... We’ve gotta get comfy first, that’s a big part of it,” he stated with a slightly too excited nod of his head.

“Of course,” you agreed, hitching your legs up around his waist just enough. The already obvious tent he was pitching fit against you just a little too perfectly. Eddie made himself comfortable on top of you, arms around your waist to keep you close and his temple against your collarbone. His hot breath fanned against the expose skin of your neck and made you shiver in anticipation. Fingers wound into his soft brown waves and your other hand found purchase between his shoulder blades for now.

“Now what?” you asked quietly, almost too scared to break the already building tension in the air.

“Well, now we just... Kinda -” Slowly, experimentally at first, Eddie began to rut his denim-clad hips against you, eliciting a small gasp. You let him find a rhythm and pace that he was comfortable with before starting to move your hips to match.

Heat crawled across your skin. Senses were alight with a burning need for more. Eddie’s breaths became shallow and ragged, a clear rosy burnish across his cheeks, neck and ears as he continued to rock his hips against yours for that delicious friction.

“Fuck - Oh my God...” he gasped when your legs squeezed a little tighter around his waist, bringing him even closer, despite how impossible that seemed.

“That’s it, Eds - Just a little more,” you praised as nails dug into his back and scratched against his scalp. A moan-turned-whimper left his parted lips before he tried to busy himself with leaving as many marks on your skin as possible.

“ - Feels good, Eddie. So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” he exhaled as teeth nipped at your earlobe. The neediness became more evident as he started to lose the rhythm he’d built. There was a dark stain growing on his jeans, caused by both of you without a doubt. Each harsh brush of denim against your aching cunt had you gasping for air. A slight sheen of sweat began to build across your brow and it looked to be the same for Eddie as he shamelessly continued in this filthy endeavour for pleasure.

“You’re such a good boy, Eddie. Always know how to make me f-feel good,” you encouraged in soft, breathless whispers. Teeth grazed your chin and jaw as he worked himself against you, lost in the overwhelming sensations.

“I - I’m gonna -”

“Do it, Eds. Make a mess and cum in your pants, hm?” you goaded without considering just how close he was. A brief moment passed before he stuttered and stopped. Mouth agape, eyes screwed shut, Eddie did as he was told. Each gentle rock against him and the now very evident dark stain on the crotch of his jeans overstimulated him. Left him a trembling, whimpering mess as he rushed out a string of curses and thank-you’s.

“Did you -” Eddie couldn’t even finish the question he wanted to ask, but you knew what he meant.

“Don’t worry, that was almost as good as getting to finish. But I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

-/-/-

@wintersoldierbaby​​

[zablife]

[Slowly working my way through your celebration until I get kicked out 😈 ]

🍾 Spill champagne about "I'm not even sorry" with Tommy please- I'm too curious what you come up with-

Have fun ✨

Prompt-"I'm not even sorry." w/ Tommy

Saying goodnight to Ada, you wrapped your coat around your shoulders and congratulated her on a lovely housewarming party. “If you happen to find your brother, please tell him I’ve left and I’ll ring in the morning,” you said politely. Although you made it sound like a pleasant social call, it would be nothing of the sort. You intended on scolding him for the jealous behavior he exhibited in front of Ada’s other guests. You cared deeply for Tommy, but he was becoming far too possessive and you intended on telling him so.

As Ada waved goodbye from the front steps, your chauffeur shuffled toward you quickly.  He had a panic stricken look on his face as he approached. “Miss Y/l/n, there’s a nail in the rear tire of the Bentley and all the garages are closed,” he said gesturing wildly toward the car. 

“I see. Well, back to Mrs. Thorne’s then I suppose,” you sighed and wearily trudged up the steps. Ada chuckled at your swift return, but kindly offered you a room for the evening. As she prepared to retire to her bedroom, she informed you Tommy was also staying the night. Then she pointed down the hall advising you he was still awake, enjoying a nightcap in the study. “Didn’t you say you wanted to speak with him?” she asked. 

You thanked her and waited for her to disappear around the corner before turning on your heel to find Tommy. You knew you'd be left tossing and turning in bed if you didn't speak with him tonight. Your heels clicked anxiously against the polished floors as you made your way down the first floor hallway, thinking of how you would begin.

Opening the door to the study slowly, you found Tommy leaning against a bookshelf smoking.  He looked up at you with a smirk as though he were expecting you.  You stopped directly in front of him and tapped your foot, “I can’t believe you have the audacity to smile at me after the performance you gave tonight.”

“I did you a favor, love. Have you any idea how many of those men are fucking communists?,” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Tommy, that’s not the point. I don’t have to agree with their politics. I’m allowed to talk to other men!”

“Certainly looked as though you wanted to do more than that,” Tommy retorted. You stepped forward and slapped him hard enough to turn his head. He froze for a moment before placing a hand to his rugged jawline.

“Tommy this has got to stop! I like you, but you’re ruining any chance of us being together when you act this way,” you warned him, pacing the floor.

He stiffened slightly as you moved away, then tried to regain the upper hand with his nonchalance. He plucked the cigarette from his lips and wafted smoke from his mouth before inhaling it again through his nose. He stared at you with those piercing blue eyes and proclaimed, “I think you like this little game. Still here, aren’t you?”

“Because I’m stranded with nowhere else to go! There’s a nail in my tire,” you explained feeling flustered.  

He considered the cigarette between his fingers with a sly grin. Catching his amused expression you closed in on him again, pointing a finger in his face as you hissed, “Did you have something to do with this?”

His eyes glinted with more than a hint of mischief as he admitted, “I’m not even sorry.”

🍾 Spill champagne~Request a juicy blurb that will make you spill your drink using this drama prompt list.

Written for my 1K celebration.

[daisy-bugs]

Hehehe. You gave me the opportunity. >:D Let’s start with heavy hitters.

L and P (fic of your choice), and Q if you want to do that too!

L: Which of your fanfics was most emotionally challenging to write?

Easily easily easily "And So the Forest Runs" for this one. It is my longest posted work and was absolutely brutal to write lol! That factor was only doubled by the fact that I hadn't seen either Katherine's or Shubble's finale at that point, so I watched both to get the character voice and actual timeline of events.

P: Where did you find the most inspiration for... Two of Many?

^ used an RNG to pick which fic lmao! I mostly got inspiration from the song Two of Many by The Happy Fits (shocker!) for the overwhelmingly sweet and joyful and just loving feeling of the song. It felt very much like the Heart Foundation and Skango(? still unsure if that's the common ship name lol if anyone knows lmk) and I wanted to emulate the vibes. :P

Q: Do you like getting prompts from your readers?

I love getting prompts! I've not gotten one from someone in ages. Usually if I do get an idea for a fic from someone nowadays it's because they say something that makes me go "!" like a Pokémon trainer that just made eye contact.

[queerlordsimon]

Hi! Maybe sugar rush with Vil! Romantic please

Sugar rushed adventure

Day fourteen: prompt 21, sugar rush, vil schoenheit x reader

Cw

An

Another staple of the holidays is the baking, and the candy. Which of course, leads to many accounts of sugar rushes, and the ramshackle prefect, is not immune to these, even if their partner was the vil schoenheit.

“You gave them what so now there what” he said sharply over the phone. He had gotten a call from riddle rosehearts, with trey clover.

“I gave them some sweets, because they were nice and helped me fetch ingredients from sams, and now their sugar high. “ trey said, exasperated. Riddle added to the conversation.

“Then they decided to come interrupt me as i took care of the hedgehogs, and then ran off, and one of the hedgehogs is now missing. “ vil pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ok, do you have any idea where they could have gone?”

“They said something about fishes, so i assume they went to octavinelle” riddle said into the phone. “Good luck” vil grumbled as they hug up, before he started to head over to the fish mafia dorm.

Once he got their however, it was already evident, that y/n was no longer there. He sighed, before approaching the leech brothers, as much as it pained him.

“Betta fish, whatcha doing here?” floyd hummed, a wide toothy grin on his face, jade nodded

“Mr shoenheit, a pleasure. What can we do for you?”

“I heard the prefect was on their way here, though it seems like they have left already.” jade nodded.

“Ah yes, y/n came here to pick up an order, but as soon as they got it and paid, they were gone.”

“Do you have clue where they would have gone?”

“Shrimpy said they were heading to get something from sea lion,” vil nodded sharply.

“Thank you for your time” vil said before swiftly heading back out, to savannaclaw. But much to his dismay, yet again, he had just missed them. He had to wander for a moment to find where leona had decided to nap this time.

“Leona, have you seen my spudling?” he said, and leona opened an eye, snorting.

“What is with you two and bothering my nap time?” vil kept his eyes trained on him.

“So you have seen them. “

“They were here about 15 minutes ago, yeah.” vil sighed exaperatedly.

“So do you know where they went leona?” the lion shook his head, before closing his eye again to signal the end of the conversation. Vil walked away, pressing his fingers to his temples, before his phone rang again, and he raised his eyebrow, answering it.

“Vil, could you please come get your prefect? They are making kalim more hyper, and making more of a hassle for me.” jamil, of course.

“Will do viper, on my way.” he said before hanging up, and walking as briskly as he could out of savannaclaw, to scarabia.

But alas, he had missed again. He pinched the bridge of his nose once again, approaching the vice dorm leader. “Gone again i assume?” jamil nodded.

“That they are, they got some accessory from kalim, and hung for like, 2 minutes, and then left, saying something about technology. “ vil rolled his eyes.

“Theyve chosen ignihyde this time, huh? Thank you viper.” the vice house warden nodded as he swept away. Heading to the shut in dorm, hoping to god that he didnt have more running around to do, he swears hes going to get wrinkles and his grey hairs from y/n.

Sadly, it seemed his adventure was not over, for the dorm was as quiet as normal. He sighed, as ortho popped up infront of him.

“Vil schoenheit, what can i do for you?”

“Ortho shroud. Have you seen the ramshackle prefect today?”

“That i have, vil schoenheit, y/n l/n was her approximately 3 minutes and 38 seconds ago, you just missed them. They got a camera from big brother before leaving.” vil nodded

“Do you know where they have gone?” ortho shook his head rapidly.

“y/n l/n didnt say anything to indicate where they could have gone next vil schoenheit, though it looked as if they had already been a number of places.” vil smiled softly.

“That they have, thank you very much ortho,” ortho nodded cheerfully before zooming off as vil stepped back through the mirror. Just before he receive yet another call.

“Vil, this is lilia van rouge , malleus would like me to tell you to come get your child of man, as they came here, got something from him, before passing out on the couch,” vil sighed audibly.

“Thank you lilia, i will be right there.” he said before hanging up, and going to diasomnia, where he had finally found the prefect, right where lilia had said theyd be, a pile of stuff in their arms, the missing hedgehog, which was the same color as his eyes, a clear plastic box with his favorite pastry, a crocheted blanket, a sparkling tiara, the camera that ortho had told him about, and a potion vial, label as a pore cleaner. He smiled softly, before picking up the sleeping prefect, to take them back to his dorm, right after returning the hedgehog, cause there was no way he would keep that.

—--

Again sorry it is late, life likes attacking me. Thank you for reading this and requesting this anon, requests are still open, and highly encouraged, you can find the prompt lists HERE and the master list HERE. i hope you enjoyed this and ill see you later for the last story for the day

-queer.lord

[hotlink907]

Kinktober Day 8 - Pegging - Siyeon

prompt: Pegging

pairing: Siyeon x fem!reader

warnings: loving but rough, begging

“Come on, you know you want my dick,” Siyeon teased.

She was right, obviously. That was why she had so many different strap-ons to choose from. The thing was, she also loved to tease you about it. And before she fucked you, she liked to make you pick out the toy that was going to be doing the fucking.

“That’s not the problem,” you grumbled. “Can’t you just pick?” “No,” Siyeon said with a wink. “I can’t. That’s your job. I just move my hips. Or do you not want it at all?”

She knew you did, which was why she knew that you’d pick out the strap-on when you were done complaining. You just had to get it out of your system first. “This is so embarrassing,” you muttered. “Why can’t you just put it on like a normal person?” She had even made sure that you were naked before she made you pick. Which meant that when she slapped your ass as you bent down to choose one, it stung just a little bit more. “Siyeon!” you pretended to swat at her. She danced out of your reach with a cheeky smile.

You looked back down at your options, wanting to choose quickly so that it could start. “How about this one?” you said, selecting one that she didn’t use all that often. It wasn’t very long, but it was a bit wider than what you were used to. Tonight, you wanted to be stretched. Slow and steady.

Siyeon’s eyes sparkled as she picked it up. “Mmm, someone is looking to be challenged, huh? Well, I can make that happen for you.” She started to get it attached to her strap, while you went for the lube.

“Missionary,” you said.

Siyeon pouted. “Missionary? Really?” You batted your eyelashes. “You don’t want to look into my eyes as you--” You didn’t even manage to complete the sentence before Siyeon grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed. The wind left your lungs in a rush and you found yourself breathless as she stared down at you with her piercing eyes.

“Maybe this isn’t so bad,” she said in a throaty voice. “Maybe I like the idea of pinning you down and having my way with you...”

“You wish you could,” you shot back.

Siyeon raised an eyebrow and you felt the cold touch of the lubricant covered strap-on as she teased your slit. “I think I will.” She reached down and grabbed your arms, pinning them over your heard, and then she pressed the toy against your pussy, letting it slowly slide its way in, filling you up and stretching you out as it entered.

You gasped and your heart pounded as Siyeon looked down at you with amusement and lust. “How’s that?’ she asked.

You lifted your legs and wrapped them around Siyeon’s naked torso in a tight leglock. “Give it to me,” you whispered, breathlessly. “I need it.”

Siyeon started to move her hips, and you could feel your inner walls gripping the toy as it stretched you and filled you. You pulled her closer with your legs, since Siyeon still had your arms helplessly pinned. It was the only maneuver you could make as she moved in and out of you at a steady, sensual pace.

She knew your body so well, almost as well as you knew it. She knew just how to move, just how to hit every sensitive spot. She knew how to take control of you in a way that left you needing more.

To put it simply, she knew how to fuck you. And that was exactly what she did.

“Y-yes,” you moaned. “Just like that.” “You like my cock,” she crooned down to you. “You like taking my cock? Tell me.” “I l-like your cock,” you managed to say. “I need it!”

She was thrusting harder, her body pressing against yours, going deeper and deeper. It didn’t matter that the toy you had selected wasn’t that long. She knew how to use it, and she wasn’t slowing down. If anything, she was speeding up.

You tried to move your arms, if only to grasp her head so you could kiss her, but she tightened her grip and refused to let you move. You gave into the helplessness, letting her motions carry you away on a sea of intensity and sensation, your legs starting to go weak, and a ball of pleasurable fire beginning to form in your stomach.

“That’s so good,” you moaned as she increased her pace. “It’s so--”

“Shhh,” she said, looking at you with love. “I know, baby.”

You suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to cry. It wasn’t from pain or discomfort it was just because everything felt so good and she felt so good and you were just a little overwhelmed and... and...

“I know,” she said gently. “Let it all out.”

You moaned her name as she let go of your arms, and you reached up to wrap your hands around her head, drawing her in and kissing her long and slow. Maybe it was cliche, but you loved missionary for this reason. Giving her control, but being so intimate...

She kissed you deeply, and you moaned into her mouth, not holding anything back. There were no walls between the two of you as she continued to push into you, steadily, again and again, building the pleasure higher and higher until--

“Siyeon, I think I’m gonna--!”

And then, the pleasure was gone.

You gasped and kicked your legs out, trying to pull her back in, but the strap-on was just out of reach, teasingly just hovering above your pussy. “Please!” you begged. “Put it back in, I was so close, I need it!” Siyeon smiled down at you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re not done yet,” she said. “But you didn’t think it was going to be that easy, right?”

You glared at her in frustration. “Siyeon!”

“Tell me you want it.”

“You know I do!”

You felt the toy press back up against you. “Then I guess you’ll just have to have it.” And once again, you felt her steal your breath away.

[skymaiden32]

Clearing The Air

Thundertober/Inktober 2022 Day 6: Commander

After his return, Jeff has something he needs to talk about with his eldest.

Continuity: TAG

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou (Please ask if you would like to be alerted when I update or write new stories)

I know this is a day late, but here you go.

Prompt list

------

Jeff grinned as his sons and the rest of their mismatched family and friends celebrated Alan’s graduation together. It was clear from the jubilation on everyone’s faces that this had been a long time coming. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d missed so much; so many highlights of his children’s lives, and he had no idea how he could make it up to them, although he knew being here to see Alan’s transition from high school to the rest of his life was a good start.

But after the first step, you had to take another. And another. He knew he had a lot of catching up to do. And he knew just who to start with…

------

“Hey, Scott?” The patriarch managed to catch his eldest during routine maintenance on Thunderbird One the day after the party. Jeff had tried to pull him aside during the celebrations, but Scott had always been one step ahead of him. They’d always just missed each other. Honestly, Jeff wouldn’t have blamed his son if it had been on purpose.

Scott jumped at his father’s voice, almost dropping the tool he was using. He turned to face the older man. “Yeah? What do you need Dad?” Jeff knew that look. Scott was nervous about something, and the patriarch had a suspicion it had something to do with him. Jeff sighed inwardly. There was no turning back now.

“I wanted to talk to you about something…” At Scott’s questioning look, he continued. “Could you join me in the office when you’re finished?” Once upon a time, Jeff would’ve called it his office, but he knew that was no longer the case.

Scott shrugged. “I’m just about done, so I can come now if you want.”

“Yep. That’s fine.” The father and son duo walked out of Thunderbird One’s hanger toward the rest of the house. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow this, Brains.” Scott handed the multi-tool he’d been using back to International Rescue’s engineer, who was currently working on updating some of MAX’s code with the Mechanic.

“N-no problem, Scott.” Brains put the tool back in it’s rightful place. “W-we’re still testing the u-upgrades to the T-drive l-later, right?” He asked after noticing Jeff. The look on the Mechanic’s face told the patriarch that the other mechanical genius felt similarly uncertain.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Scott gave the engineers a thumbs up. “See you guys later.” The eldest Tracy brother turned away to continue walking alongside his father. 

The Mechanic’s voice followed the pair as they left the room. “Have fun!” 

The doors drifted shut, and Scott huffed in amusement at their newest member’s antics. Jeff gave him a look. “I thought you didn’t like the Mechanic?”

Scott gave his father the first genuine smile since he’d been brought back. “At first. How else are you supposed to react to someone who almost killed your family multiple times?” His face adopted a more serious expression. “I’ve since realised that animosity wasn’t going to lead anywhere worthwhile. He was under the Hood’s control, and he’s changed since then. I don’t think I’d view him as an ally if he didn’t help us find you…” Jeff nodded in understanding as they walked in silence for a few more minutes. They finally made it to the office, closing the door behind them.

It was now or never. “Scott…” Jeff inhaled. “I’m so sorry…”

Scott looked at his father incredulously. “What for?”

“You know exactly what…” The look on his son’s face told Jeff he did know what the patriarch was apologising for, but Jeff said it anyway. “For everything. For disappearing, for leaving you boys to deal with it, for leaving you with a business, rescue organisation and family to run. All of it!”

“I’m the one who should be apologising, Dad…” Jeff gave his son a look. “I tried so hard to manage everything without you, but I still messed up multiple times. Every board meeting gone wrong, every time the GDF was on our backs for some disaster, every time one of the others got hurt, that’s on me.” He smiled sadly, and even in the relative darkness, Jeff could see the tears that started appearing. “I’m sorry I failed you and your legacy by being a total screw-up…”

Jeff wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just scooped his eldest into the biggest hug he could manage. And somehow, he didn’t find the words. The words found him. “You didn’t fail me, Scooter…” He began, knowing Scott’s childhood nickname would bring some kind of comfort. “I failed you…” He felt himself cry now, but his upset was nothing compared to his son’s. He pulled back, wiping Scott’s tears away with a gentle hand as he guided his son to look into his eyes. “You’re stronger than you could ever know, son. I may have played my own part, but don’t count yourself out of the race just yet. You’re a way better Commander than I could hope to be. Our family, International Rescue, Tracy Industries… They wouldn’t be what they are today without you…” 

He thought about Virgil, who practically clung to Scott like glue, being each other’s closest confidante. He thought about John, who would probably be completely isolated if Scott and the others didn’t check in regularly. Gordon, who wouldn’t have been talking through his trauma from his accident and back to his bubbly self without Scott’s support. Alan, who would just be a broken teen if Scott hadn’t stepped in to practically raise him and be the father figure he’d needed. 

It wasn’t just the other boys, either. He knew his mother would’ve been heartbroken when he’d disappeared, and although he knew Sally was a stubborn woman and could take care of herself, the support from her eldest grandson likely helped a lot. Kayo was so scared of being abandoned because of who her uncle was, but he’d been told how accepting all his boys were of the woman who was practically their sister. Brains and the Mechanic were confidant in calling this place home now. All thanks to his eldest boy…

“They need you way more than they need me…” Jeff admitted. “If you boys don’t want me here, if you’re scared I’ll ruin the home you’ve all made together, then I’ll go…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad.” Scott managed a scoff through what little tears remained. “If we didn’t want you here, we wouldn’t have worked our butts off to get you back.” He huffed. “Eight years away, and you wanna leave? Absolutely not. I don’t know how things are gonna change, but I do know that whatever happens, we can face them as a family, together…”

Jeff smiled, embracing his son in a tight hug once again. “Together…”

------

In the months that followed, a new dynamic that everyone was very glad for formed. After all, Jeff was firmly in the middle of it. 

Virgil had firmly grounded his father from overworking himself due to far too long in zero-gravity, which meant no missions. He was still a key IR member, but his role was more advisory than anything else. He’d tried to go back to Tracy Industries, but that idea had been just as bright as a black hole once he’d realised he barely recognised the place. Sure, the company was just fine under his direction, but under Scott’s, everything seemed to run like clockwork. He didn’t mind taking over sometimes, though. As for the family, Jeff thanked his lucky stars he was able to take over Scott’s responsibilities for almost the entirety of that, although Alan still clung to his eldest brother a lot.

He waved as Scott, the now official Commander-in-Chief of International Rescue, returned from the latest rescue he’d had to attend. Scott grinned as he waved back, before being herded off by Gordon. 

Jeff knew it would still be a long time before many of the boys trusted him with their problems again, but he was back in their lives now, and there was nothing more important than that…

[emcscared-whumps]

WHUMPTOBER 2022 - 16: No Way Out

"Mind Control"

Read below the cut!

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This is a little scenario @dang-i-like-whump and I have cooking where Pete, and their OC Werner are roommates! It's pretty neat, there are many shenanigans, but we ran this little scenario, and I thankfully thought of it when looking through this years prompts! It's very fun I hope you all enjoy ^-^

The whumper was never a character though, so, they remain generic ^-^'

CONTENT and WARNINGS: mind control, multiple whumpees, belunae whumper, belunae whumpee, broken bones (they crunch a little bit, but they don't get broken here), knife, cutting (with said knife), emeto

wc: ~1.3k

Aching...

Werner soon realised it was his arms and legs that protested at this grievous mistreatment. The rope that bound his wrists and ankles to the pipe was much too rough; it’d chafe his soft skin, laying years of rigorous skincare routines and expensive moisturisers to waste.

Oh! This will not STAND!

“Whumper,” he seethed, baring his teeth in an unhinged grin, “come closer so I can rip your face off!”

He could feel their smile on him from their darkened corner, their faintly glowing golden eyes were filled with the gleeful satisfaction of a predator cornering its toy.

“Why don’t you show your face you coward! Are you so afraid of a sweet little man like me that you can’t even come torture me properly?” he taunted.

Whumper giggled.

“Oh, you sound so serious,” they said, “you two will be the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

“... Two...?” he said dumbly.

Oh. Oh no, absolutely fucking not.

From the shadows, Whumper flung a rumpled young man forward. His unkempt auburn mop and loose red scarf marked him as Pete, his roommate, and he yelped when weight fell onto his injured foot. His leg gave out, sending him to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Oh no, no you don’t, don’t you fucking dare,” Werner seethed.

“Oh yes,” Whumper said.

The mere sight of his friend at Whumper’s feet set his heart alight with fury, “You leave him fucking-well out of this, bitch.”

Pete glanced at Werner, then up at Whumper with frightened blue eyes.

“L-l-let us-s g— wh-what do—d-do you want fr-from—” he started.

Whumper’s eyes glinted gold, an unsettling sight when little else of their face was visible.

Pete froze with a hiccupping breath.

Whumper let out a low chuckle, “You have such a sweet mind, little thing, I’ve been looking for one as fine as this for a while now... I look forward to snapping it.”

Violent trembles shook Pete’s body. Pain wrote itself across his face, scrunching his features into a snarl, and his eyes grew wide as he rose to his knees, tightly clutching his head and blocking his ears. He looked as though he was fighting a battle inside himself, and he was losing.

Werner’s breathing picked up, fury finally boiling over.

“Leave him. The fUCK ALONE!” Werner hissed.

Pete took a sharp breath, as if to yell, but he stopped and doubled over.

Whumper’s smile widened.

Werner quashed the waver in his voice, “Pete...?”

“Stand,” Whumper said, eyes luminous.

The fear slowly drained from Pete’s features. He stood. Too straight, too evenly... And his cane was nowhere in sight. Wasn’t he in pain...? Werner cringed at the idea of standing without his cane. Something was terribly wrong.

Werner searched Pete’s features, desperate to find any emotion in his tear dampened blue eyes.

“What the FUCK did you do to him! Pete, snap out of it!” Werner said, wriggling determinedly in his bonds.

Pete’s breaths came heady, his only reply a small sound.

Werner growled at Whumper, “You have ten seconds to tell me what the FUCK you’ve done and maybe you’ll get to keep your liver.”

The sound came again, Werner could hear it now:

A low, inhuman growl.

Werner made a high, nervous sound despite himself. No, that wasn’t a whimper, but he bit his lip at how pathetic it must’ve sounded. He wasn’t afraid of death. No, he’d died enough times to know that it wasn’t what he geared; it was the agony of whatever came before.

And that fear slowly wound its way through his gut.

From the shadows, the weak light that streamed in from the ceiling caught a thin blade.

The gold of Whumper’s eyes flared; “Go to your friend,” they ordered.

Pete did, slowly. His steps faltered, and his face twisted into something between a snarl and a grimace. Layered under it all, despite how much he fought, Werner could see the same, faint insanity that lingered in Whumper’s own gaze.

Whumper said something, but it was drowned out by the ringing in Werner’s ears. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the blade.

Pete came closer still until his face was a mere inch from Werner’s. He startled when his breath brushed his skin.

“Pete—snap out of it--!” Let him fucking go you bastard! What’ve you done to him?! Let him go!”

The dull, serrated tip of the knife appeared and rested on Werner’s bobbing throat.

He gasped but dared not move, lest the gentle, steady line that Pete traced down his neck to his chest break his skin. He remembered the last time Pete tried to cook, how he dropped the knife in a panic before he could even slice a carrot. He shook so badly he couldn’t hold his tea after.

At the same time, Werner remembered the clean slice of a blade that severed his head many years ago.

Pete’s grimace deepened, and his hand shook, Werner could feel it through the blade. The pressure on his skin lifted the barest fraction. It drew him from his darkest memories, but he couldn’t decide whether that or reality was worse.

“ENOUGH!” Whumper roared, eyes blazing.

Pete took a sudden step back and dropped like a stone to his knees, clutched his head, and wailed. He turned his head, grip on the knife becoming white-knuckled, and finally, silence fell over them. His arms dropped again to his sides, and the knife caught his jeans and sliced his leg.

Blood seeped into the pale fabric. Pete didn’t even blink.

In the moment when Pete raised his gaze to meet Werner’s, there was truly nothing left.

He cringed, and fixed Whumper with a glare.

The spoke again, a note of satisfaction creeping into their voice; “Puppet, what is your name?”

“Pete,” he stated without pause or hesitation, voice devoid of emotion.

Whumper sighed and tutted, “Much too short. Your surname too, then. Carve them both into your friend’s chest.”

Pete stood immediately, easily crossing the distance to rest the blade’s trip on Werner’s skin. Werner could’ve sown he heard the faint crunching of his friend’s bones in the silence.

A note of desperation crept into Werner’s voice, “Whumper you fucking coward, why don’t you leave Pete the FUCK out of this and come do the dirty work yourself! Or are you afraid of a little blood—”

He wasn’t one to make a laughable fool of himself by lowering his standards to begging and pleading with Whumper for whatever shred of mercy they might offer, or screaming for that matter, but the moment the blade pierced his skin, he made an exception.

The fear, pain, and frustration all boiled over when the first stroke tore his skin.

Werner threw his head back and howled his heart out, rubbing his skin raw on the restraints.

No—! he resolved, don’t—let them see—

Every cry, every scream after that first, utterly humiliating performance until finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore; “Argh—p-please...S-s-s-st-st-op, stop, d—damn you,” Werner bit out as he writhed. “C’mon, put the knife down! Snap out of it—this isn’t you...! God just please put it down!”

Every stroke of every letter lit up Werner’s skin with new agony. It took forever and seconds for the pain to overwhelm him and break his voice down into muffled and choked cries, and for the letters to become rushed and uneven.

The second the final cut marked Werner’s skin, Pete’s expression sprung to life, and he flung the knife to the wall with such force that it shattered.

Pete backed away from Werner in a wild panic, shuddering and choking on his own bile until he hit a different wall and slid down, curling up in a ball. Between gut wrenching sobs, he collapsed to his side and heaved, emptying what little was left in his stomach onto the cold, hard, ground.

Meters away, Werner still squirmed, sobbing and screaming curses at Whumper who was no longer there, until he had nothing left to give. There, he hung with dim eyes reddened by tears, and hair stuck to the tracks that crept down his cheeks. Pete curled up again, unable to bear the sight of his work.

If you read and enjoyed this, please consider a reblog ^-^

Taglist:

dang-i-like-whump

@onlywhump

@whump-cravings

@willowtreewhump

If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist (general prompts or canon!Shifting Phases), please feel free to dm/ask/let me know :)

[goodthoughts001]

Chicago Fire Season 3 Episode 9 Recap: What the Truck?

Things for personal for some of our favorite firefighters on Chicago Fire Season 3 Episode 9. And not necessarily in a good way. If you are looking forward to translate this content, contact Translation Agencies UK

Called to the scene of a semi-truck accident, the tension between Dawson and Casey reached a boiling point after the former disobeyed an order by the latter.

This was the first time the couple has had trouble transitioning from their home life to the office life, as the lines have now started to blur. Was Dawson right? Did she save the day ? Yes.

But Casey can’t make it look as if he’s giving her special treatment. And she must show him the respect he deserves as her boss.

At least Dawson wanted to talk about the issue, however. She gets points for that move… and Casey gets the same points deducted for becoming so closed off.

Elsewhere, watch Chicago Fire online and see how the series teased us with the possibility of Mills and Dawson rekindling their romance. Or just their friendship? For Casey fans, let’s hope it’s the latter.

On the flip relationship side, Severide and Brittany shared many tender moments this week. The former isn’t like Casey. He can easily open up and discuss his feelings. With Brittany by his side, Severide finally visited the Academy headquarters and saw Shay’s bridge.

Perhaps he can now start to heal and move on?

Severide’s honesty prompted Brittany to share her own story, as she finally revealed she was behind the wheel during the car crash that killed her sister. Not exactly a shock, but still a nice scene between the couple.

Finally, Mills has things to worry about that don’t include romance of any kind. He recognized he’s being tailed by Mr. Lullo toward the end of the hour and finally grew as frightened as he ought to be about this situation.

Eva Mendes on First-Time Motherhood: It’s Exhausting!

For the first time since becoming a first-time mother, Eva Mendes is speaking out in depth about the experience.

The actress, who gave birth to a daughter named Esmeralda in mid-September, recently sat down with online publication The Violet Files and didn’t bring up the topic of her famous baby daddy, Ryan Gosling.

But Mendes did speak on the overall struggles of caring for a tiny person’s life at all times.

“I’m completely exhausted,” the star said, joking: “I thought my wild nights were over but these are some of the wildest nights I’ve ever had.”

Mendes said she is yet to hire a nanny because she believes “part of being a mother” is going through the “struggle of not being able to sleep and not knowing what I’m doing and really going through it with her and battling out those nights.”

Fans, meanwhile, have been wondering for awhile about the origin of Esmeralda. How did Mendes and Gosling arrive at that name?

“We both love the Esmeralda character from the Victor Hugo novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame and just think it’s a beautiful name,” explained. “Her middle is Amada, which was my grandmother’s name. It means ‘beloved’ in Spanish.”

That’s beautiful.

Aside from now acting as a parent, Mendes said she has starting to think like one.

“I consider how my own actions now will seem to her later on,” she said. “For instance, with the Violet Grey photo shoot, I thought, ‘Is this something that she’s going to be proud of?’ The idea that I would ever embarrass her is really heartbreaking for me.”

Why do we doubt that Kim Kardashian ever thought in such a way?

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As you can tell, Mendes is having a somewhat difficult time adjusting to her new, vital role.

But she knows it’s nothing compared to what her child is going through.

“I’ve learned that it’s way harder to be a baby,” she quipped. “Everything is a struggle for her. For instance, I haven’t thrown up since the ‘90s and she’s thrown up twice since we started this interview. Motherhood is cake compared to what it’s like to be a baby.”