#and as soon as the discord window opens everyone leaves the voice call and says WE'RE DONE with a fucking smiley emoji

[softnsquishable]

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[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

[writernomore]

Can you do soulmate au headcannons for feral Bois + Wilbur please?

You are my Other half|| Feral boys + Wilbur

Please do not publish my work/ content to different websites and platforms, I only post my work here on tumblr and wattpad

A/n: I must say these were like the cutest ever QwQ

Gender Neutral! Reader

Dreamwastaken.

Okay for Dream's soulmate headcanons I like to picture that you have a specific sentence/ words written on your wrist that your soulmate would say to you.

Now, I like to think that you've met your soulmate but! You don't know that yet because of the words on your wrist.

Here's how the situation will go, so basically your a streamer (Naturally) and your friends with Dream! (Shocking :0) .

So you've recently been getting undeserved hate because of the way you play a certain game or people just don't seem to like you, sure there are your loyal fans cheering you up and all but there's just sometimes going to be someone who'd take their comments too far and it just gets to you.

So right now your on discord with Dream ( I don't if you guys want it to be the both of you are in face time so I'll leave this part vague so you can imagine which one you prefer.) and you are just venting/talking about your situation with Dream and you come to stop saying that you couldn't handle it anymore and that you didn't know what to do anymore.

Dream has experience to what your encountering, putting yourself out there and becoming a sort of influencer and gaining fame is that there will always be people to bring you down and love to see that they have left and effect on you.

" You don't need to listen to them, clearly, they don't know how amazing you are."

"Thank you Clay, you're really great too, I don't see why people seem to hate you too."

It was silent at first but then you came to a sudden realisation of the familiarity of the words Dream just told you, quickly pulling up your sleeve your eyes widen to the exact words Dream said imprinted on your wrist.

Looking up at your Monitor, you were breathless, there was a sudden change of mood and the both of you were just silent before Dream spoke once again.

"Hello, Soulmate."

Georgenotfound.

Okay, I think this one is cute but I always think Soulmate Au's are cute so here's George's Soulmate Au!

You have a clock timer to when you meet your soulmate and it's just the perfect one for this idea in my head.

So basically, your on your way to meet an online friend of yours, George or going by his online alias Georgenotfound.

You had been streaming for about a while now and you've met such wonderful people, along with George and other nice streamers on the platform.

You were looking out the window of your plane, as you were nearing to the UK, glancing down you notice the timer on your wrist had sped up and that it shows that you might meet your soulmate here in London.

You were ecstatic at the idea of meeting your soulmate at the airport, just like some cheesy RomCom you've watched before.

Going down the stairs of the airplane you go through scanning and you grab your luggage and look for George, taking out your phone you text him asking where he was and he texted back sending where he was standing, pocketing your phone your clock seems to have gone faster and that you might encounter your soulmate soon before you get to meet up with George.

Walking around you glance to see where George is, ocassionally looking at your wrist, but then you spot the man holding up a welcome sign you walk over to him but just as you were about a few feet away you put down your luggage and make a sprint running to him, to attack him in a hug.

10...

9....

8....

7....

6...

5....

4...

3..

2..

1..

You hug George as he carries you and spins you around, the both of you laughing as you look up at him and smile, it was finally that moment you got to meet him.

He sets you down and you look down to your wrist that your timer, you brush your hand over it and George grabs your wrist to look at it, as he examines it you look up at him in surprise, your soulmate was the person you were so desperate to meet.

He looks up at you and smiles even wider as he pulls up his sleeve and showing that the his timer to had gone off, he encases you in a hug and you chuckle wrapping you arms around his shoulder.

Sapnap.

Okay, so this one I like to make this that you and Sap are strangers in this one because, why not? And it would be perfect for the soulmate Au I chose for Sapnap.

Your Soulmate Au with Sapnap is You're deaf until you meet your Soulmate, and the first thing you'll be able to hear is their voice.

So here's how your situation goes, so given that your deaf, you had to learn ASL language to communicate with people(I make it that everyone has different Soulmate Au's, ex: your friend has the red string.) and it's sometimes hard to be able to get your bearings considering your deaf.

And hearing aids don't work as well, there's nothing you can do about it, so you just wait for your soulmate.

So, you're walking down the street after getting groceries, and you try to balance all the bags in your hand but they were to heavy and you were really desperate to not drop the groceries.

So you hug the groceries close to your body but you stiffen at the hand on your shoulder, you turn around to look at the person and they smile at you, raised their hands to sign if you needed help, dumbfounded you try to say something but you couldn't hear what you said but it was clear he did because he had this look of surprise.

And he puts a hand over his ear and looks at you and opens his mouth.

"Can you hear me?" You had the same expression he had but you nodded and then everything seemed to be clear and the both of you can hear sound now.

The two of you just talk to each other about anything you guys come up with relishing the sound of each others voice whilst carrying your groceries.

Karl Jacobs.

Okay, so for Karl's Soulmate thing I picked where your hair would be the same as your soulmates if they dye it and vice versa to your soulmate.

So basically you've had this love for gaming and you practically have been entertaining the idea of streaming, you loved people who play games whilst they streamed, talking to the people in chat and just making people's days.

And you happen to want to do the same, so basically you wanted to be exclusive with your appearance so you usually just turned your face cam off, but when you did people would gush about how nice your hair looked because of the colors you pick out.

Your streaming career had really gone well and you were quiet well known and was doing really well, the people loved you! (excluding the people who bash on you).

You've met really wonderful friends and they're just the nicest and most wonderful people!

And you have this friend named Karl he was really the best, you met him through Quackity and the two of you just really hit it off from the on.

Basically, you and Karl would be streaming later but there was a problem it was when you were with other people or felt the mood you'd turn on your camera but your soulmate decided to dye their hair and now you had the same exact color (awww and you were really growing into the old color too.)

So basically, when you got ready you joined the call with Karl(But you had your camera off) and the two of you were just playing and then you started ranting how your hair changed because your soulmate dyed their hair, Karl just comforted you and then when you were going to look at chat people wanted to see your hair so you went to open your face cam showing your hair, ruffling it a bit.

Unbeknownst to you, Karl happened to have opened your stream on his monitor, You went to talk again with Karl but he was silent for a while, then he smiled and went to talk about how he dyed his hair and he wanted to show the stream, you told him it was nice and was just oblivious to Karl's doing.

People kept on spamming your chat to check Karl's stream and so you did, you pulled up his stream and there he was, with his hair the same color as yours.

You started screaming and just yelled in disbelief letting out little chuckles, you went to cover your face with your hands and chat was ballistic (Both yours and his chat) .

Quackity.

Okay, so for Quackity I chose the one where you write on your skin it would also appear on your soulmate's (and vice versa).

So for this you use this as a form of communication since you don't know each other, it doesn't get personal but just little details about each other.

I have a feeling Quackity would draw penises as a form of prank and you'd have wash it off quickly because you know, it's embarassing but alas, you can't erase it.

It only happens to disappear after time or when your soulmate erases it.

So basically as payback to the little penises he draws you draw these shapes on your face, there are hearts, stars, and little doodles along with the words Kiss me!

It was all fun and games between you guys, and you wanted to share your little 'prank' on instagram, taking a picture of your self smiling and along with a caption saying how you pranked your soulmate.

After you had posted that you just decided to scroll through instagram smiling, but then your smiled had dropped and you saw someone posting a picture, their face having the same markings as you had drawn but you just didn't do anything and liked his picture.

But for a while it had been eating at you so you went to go and message him about being soulmates.

So you just resulted to doing it the old fashioned way and grabbing your marker and contemplating what to write, you decided to write your username and just left it at that hoping he'd check it out.

It was about a few minutes before your phone vibrated, opening you saw someone had DMed you, going on to instagram it was him!

You went to check out the message it said:

"I never knew my soulmate would be so beautiful/handsome."

"Hello to you too, Soulmate."

Wilbursoot.

Mister Soot, your soulmate Au with him would be that you have the same mark as your soulmate, it isn't some random shape but it's a specific mark that you and your soulmate would have.

I don't know how I'm going to be able to write this one so basically this is just how Wilbur found out you were his soulmate, Wilbur would be about a year or 3 older than you and it was your 21st birthday that when your soulmate mark would appear, Wilbur had already gotten his before you.

So the two of you are counting down by midnight in video chat talking and waiting for the clock to strike 12, you had been so excited, you've waited for 21 years for this moment to arrive, when the clock had striked 12 you quickly checked out what the mark was.

It was a white music note, it was cute and it was placed on your wrist, you smiled and look at Wilbur, raising you arm up to angle it so that the camera could see it and show Wilbur what the mark looked like, "Check out my soulmate mark." you found Wilbur silent but then he started giggling, "What's so funny?" You asked him frowning as you looked down to your wrist.

"I guess I finally found you, and you were just right under my nose." Wilbur giggled again.

You held a dumbfounded expression before looking down at your mark and back up again before shaking head, "I guess you found me." You said smiling.

----------------------------------------------------

I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG AND THAT I WAS INACTIVE FOR SO LONG😭😭.

But if you guys want, I have a discord server It was so that I could interact with the readers of my wattpad book but it could be that you guys could see what I'm working on! Discord server.

Anyways, if you guys like my writing, why not and consider giving me a follow? ;)

[mashep23]

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

-----------------------

Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

[corysmiles]

Ok so I was reading your little streamer au story Just a Joke and that part about the matchbox bed had me thinking, what if Tommy did a stream where he just showed off his house? Like, just walked the camera from room to room and talked about different stuff he had for fun. (Probably not his whole house, just his bedroom and maybe one other him sized room if he has it)

He would probably see nothing wrong with most of it (or even if he does, he doesn’t think it’s a big deal and ignores it, thinking everyone else will do the same) but his friends see how poorly made and “diy” everything looks (like his bed) and start thinking about how all tinys have to live like that.

I imagine Wilber especially starts to feel bad, looking around his house and seeing all the stuff he takes for granted, all things that tinys could only get a poorer version of, if they got a version at all.

Not to mention, Tommy seems to be a bit better off then a lot of tinys, so some don’t even have the stuff he does, and/or have ones of even lesser quality.

Maybe it’s just a one off little “oh...that sucks...” or maybe they try to do something about it. Idk, just think it’s a cute and sad idea. (I have more to say about this idea, but I don’t want bombard you with a super duper long ask, so just take these basics for now I guess, sorry)

-tired anon

House Tour

————————

Little Streamer AU

CW: language

Notes: Woah little streamer content?? In this economy??? More likely than you think. And thank you so much for this awesome idea tired anon I love it :D Without further ado have a fun tiny Tommy housetour followed by Wilbur’s confusion over tiny culture

————————

Tommy hadn’t been this excited for a stream in a long time, but as he set up everything he was practically bouncing on his feet.

He was going to do a house tour- or a room tour- for the chat since they’d only ever seen a bit of it in the background. It was a lot different from his normal content, but it felt refreshing doing something so new.

When he finally stepped back and looked at everything a grin spread across his face. He didn’t think his room had looked this nice since the day they built it. His red sheets were perfectly tucked into his matchbox bed, his dollhouse desk was wiped down and shiny, and even his scrap-fabric rug was dusted.

Pride swelled up in his chest at the sight.

“Mom!” he yelled as he peaked his head through the “window” in his room. It really was just a hole in the wall to the human part of the house, but it also let light in to his room. “I’m gonna be streaming soon!”

He didn’t even wait for an answer before he happily popped back into his small room. It was still a little dusty since it was inside of a wall, but there was nothing he could really do about that. The viewers would just have to deal with it, he mused.

Quickly he sent out a tweet for his stream and hit “go live” on his pc. Almost immediately people flooded the chat even though it was still just his starting soon screen, and one name in particular caught his eye.

WilburSoot: this is not exciting

Tommy grinned and stifled the laugh that threatened to burst out of his chest. Of course Wilbur was messing with him, who would he be if he wasn’t messing with the tiny. And even though it was just one message Tommy was excited to know he was there.

Wilbur had actually been the one to convince him to do a house tour. Tommy never really thought his room was much, it was decently sized but not very exciting, but still Wilbur thought it would be a fun idea for an easy stream. The tiny still has been pretty iffy about the idea but after constant nagging from his brother-figure he gave in.

“Hello chat!” Tommy yelled as he switched his screen to his camera. Dramatically he swung it around to zoom in on his face.

“How are you doing today? I’m doing so well,” he grinned, “Today’s gonna be a little different actually- spicing things up Yaknow. You get to see my big man home!”

The chat blurred in the corner of his eye as he explained what the stream would be, and chugged a cup of coke he’d poured right before he started. It was all going well, and they seemed to like it a lot more than he thought they would.

First Tommy stood up from his desk and pointed it at his setup, “See this is where the magic happens boys.”

He laughed as the chat flew by even faster with one message catching his eye.

“Hey it is not a Polly pocket desk it is a Barbie Ken desk,” he pouted, “please I’m better than that.”

Step by step he moved across his room explaining his furniture and showing off his favorite things. They got to see his cardboard bed, his “borrower hook” he’d been trying to teach himself how to use, and even his “spider hole” in the wall where bugs got into his room.

Most of the time the chat seemed to find it funny, but every once in a while people seemed concerned. He just chalked it up to humans though.

At the end of the stream he put the camera on his desk and jumped up on his bed to say goodbye. To make it even funnier he loaded the tiny nerf gun Wilbur had bought him a while back and tried to shoot the camera.

“I’m gonna shoot you if you don’t leave, go!” he yelled jokingly, “Disparse! Leave! Go home!”

Once the chat seemed to calm down a bit he said his actual goodbyes and teaches as the screen turned dark. Just like always he let out a breath of relief that the stream went well. He enjoyed streaming, but it was still stressful trying to make sure everything went right.

After a minute he fell back onto his bed and scrolled through his phone until discord dm flashed on his screen.

WilburSoot: how did you get a whole fake room for a stream??

Tommy frowned and quickly opened the app staring at the message.

Tommyinnit: what? vc?

The tiny sat back against his bed and waited for his friend to respond as anxiety curled up in his gut.

“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice crackled.

“Hey Wil, what the fuck do you mean?”

Through his phone he could hear Wilbur shifting around as he stumbled on what to say, “That room.”

Tommy frowned and tilted his head even though he knew the human couldn’t see it, “What about it?”

“What- that can’t be your room, right?” Wilbur’s laugh boomed, “It was a good joke though.”

“Wait wait Wil,” Tommy fumbled, “What the fuck do you mean? This is my room.”

The silence that filled the call almost made Tommy wish he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Huh?”

“Uh yeah,” Tommy coughed, “That really was my room, what’s wrong?”

Wilbur’s staticky hum echoed through his phone, “Oh uh… I don’t know I thought you’d have like…actual furniture?”

“I mean, it works doesn’t it,” Tommy frowned as he leaned back against his sheets, kicking up his feet on the edge of the box, “It’s not that bad.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur paused, “you sleep in a box.”

The tiny froze and stared at the worm edges of the matchbox he slept in. He never really thought about it. It was pretty normal for tinies considering how expensive real furniture was, and he was probably better off than a lot of other tinies.

“Uh well yeah big man,” Tommy stuttered, “I’m a tiny.”

“Well no shit I know that but shouldn’t you have like an actual bed? You have a real pc!” Wilbur said, getting louder by the second.

“Well yeah,” Tommy muttered, “But spending over a thousand pounds on a bed frame just doesn’t seem worth it to me okay?”

Again silence filled the call, and it lasted so long tommy thought the human had left.

Wilbur was the one to break the silence, “One thousand pounds?”

“For a shitty one yeah,” Tommy frowned. He still remembered the day his parents had searched endlessly for any bed frames only to find that they were all thousands of pounds. They had seemed so upset about it, but Tommy never really cared.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Wilbur dropped, “I shouldn’t have said anything I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright,” Tommy smiled, I’m the corner of his eye he saw one of the hoodies he’d bought during his last visit with Wilbur, “But my spider hole is very real and very important to me.”

Wilbur’s loud laugh burst through the phone making the tiny’s heart swell. He missed the human more than he’d admit, and it was always nice hearing his friend’s voice- even if he was just joking about his spider hole.

“Yeah yeah, your spider holes fine. Very normal,” Wilbur joked before his voice steadied, “Seriously though, sorry about thinking it was a joke. I just- I don’t know. I feel like maybe I’ve taken my things for granted. I didn’t mean to seem rude though I-

“Nah stop,” Tommy smiled, “Your house is shit man, I’ve been there.”

The tiny stared at Wilbur’s profile picture as his wheezy laugh filled the room.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” and then an added, “love you Tom.”

Before Tommy could respond he heard the ding signalling Wilbur had left the call. The silence in his room now only filled by the sound of his parents shuffling around somewhere else in the house.

“Yeah,” Tommy hummed, “Love you too Wil.”

Taglist:

@encaos @blurrybunnie @brooky71 @forgetful-dorito

[twinklelilstarkey]

congratulations on 200 angel! sending a request for dad!rafe cameron where he is taking care of his little girl for the first time on his own 💕

A/N: Thank you, my love. Hope you like this.

On His Own - Dad!Rafe Cameron

Words: 3k+

Type: Fluffy

Warnings: I don’t believe there’s any swearing. Female!Reader. Mentions of college, and assignments (I really don’t want to awake anyone’s anxiety at their mention). Possible typos, I’m horrible at proofreading. Gamer!Rafe, Gamer!Kelce and Gamer!Topper.

Y/D/N (your daughter’s name)

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

“Babe, please don’t leave me” Rafe whines, stretching his hand your way as you stand by the doorway of the bedroom, backpack over your shoulder.

“Rafe, I can’t skip any more classes and you know that. I really need you to stay with her” You tell him, looking down at your phone in a small panic since you need to start making your way to college in 2 minutes.

“Isn’t there anyone that you could call to help me?”

“I’ve tried every single friend I have, and everyone is doing something today” You say, letting out a sigh as Rafe starts sitting up on the bed with a scowl on his face. You walk over to his side of the bed and press a kiss on to his lips when leaning over, “She’ll be asleep for at least 2 more hours, you have all the time in the world to start making breakfast and take a shower”

You try stepping away from the bed but Rafe stops you.

“But what if she wakes up before the 2 hours?” He asks, grabbing your hand before you could walk away.

“She knows where she can find you. She won’t get lost,” You say with a small teasing smile, “And all her favorite cartoons play in the morning, so you’ll be fine”

Rafe gives you a tight-lipped smile and you give him one back while giving his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.  

“Love you” You whisper yell on your way out of the bedroom and Rafe falls back on the bed.

“Love you more” He answers, voice back in his usual sleepy tone and muffled by the covers, making a smile stretch over your lips.

(…)

An hour later, Rafe brings himself up from the bed and drags his heavy feet over to the bathroom to take his morning shower. But before he went to grab his clean clothes from his wardrobe, he quickly wrapped his towel around his hips and ran over to the room down the hall, checking on his sleeping baby.

He walks back to the bedroom once somewhat relieved and starts to put on his clothes, which took less time than he expected.

Y/D/N will sleep until she hears something from the kitchen, or even, smells something, and until then, Rafe knows he’s safe to watch or do anything.

He quickly serves himself a mug of coffee before turning on his laptop, and looks over at the closed cabinets, thinking about what he could make for breakfast.

He doesn’t feel as nervous as he felt when you left the house. He knows that his daughter is way too sleepy and calm in the mornings for him to need any help, but he knows, for sure, that he will need that kind of reassurance once lunch time starts.

You had to go to class today, since you’ve been skipping a lot, and also to work on a group project with some of your classmates. And that meant leaving Rafe all alone with your 8-month-old girl that can quickly become the whiniest, clingy, and hyperactive little girl in the world.

Y/D/N can go from the giggly cute girl to a screaming and crying baby in a matter of 10 minutes and Rafe absolutely hates whenever his little girl cries.

You’re always able to make her calm down, yet Rafe always has a hard time because he never knows what to do.

Rafe pulls out Y/D/N’s breakfast (some sort of paste that he even cringed at the sight of) from the fridge and puts it down on the counter, looking for something else for himself.

Notifications from his laptop start popping up with Discord’s sound and Rafe looks over his shoulder to see the notifications coming from Topper and Kelce. They are overly excited for this morning’s talk, as well as, the whole afternoon that they’ll be spending basically gaming away on their pcs.

“Already?” Rafe questions out loud and looks back at the fridge, pulling out the leftovers from brunch of 2 days ago, “This will do”

The sound of a Discord incoming call sounds through the empty kitchen and Rafe ignores its first tones as he grabs his mug and takes a sip of his warm coffee. He lowers the volume and accepts the call.

“Whadup boys?!” Topper shouts, overly excited, making both Kelce and Rafe cringe slightly at him.

“Why this excitement?” Kelce asks before taking a bite of his avocado toast.

“Do you know for how long I’ve been waiting for all of us to be free and just play for a whole day?”

Rafe chuckles and takes his breakfast over to the table, putting it right next to the laptop.

Topper is quick to start a conversation between the boys, asking Rafe about his test from yesterday, but as well about you and your daughter, in which he got simple and quick answers about your whereabouts.

“I’m going to check on her now”

Rafe, as he said those words, gets up on his feet, taking the last sip of his coffee, and walks over to his little girl’s room.

He opens the door widely, making the morning sunlight shine through the small room, giving Rafe a better field of view.

Once he starts taking a few steps closer to the small bed, he’s met by Y/D/N with closed eyes but with her lips forming a wide smile.

“Look who’s awake” He says with his usual playful tone while leaning closer over the small girl.

He presses a kiss on her chubby cheek, marked by the blankets, and her eyes snap open at the feeling.

“Ready to have breakfast?” He asks, knowing very well that she won’t answer this early in the morning unless it is a babble that makes absolutely no sense.

The little girl’s smile widens as Rafe stretches his arms and pulls her out of her bed, making her wiggle her way closer to the warmth of his chest.

Y/D/N snuggles her face between the crook of Rafe’s neck as he walks over to her small window, in hopes to let some more light and fresh air into the room.

The girl hides from the harsh lighting and Rafe is quick to take her to the bathroom.

Once the girl’s face was washed, diaper was changed and as well as clothes, Rafe takes her to the kitchen quickly, knowing very well how hungry she must be.

As soon as the girl hears Topper’s and Kelce’s voices coming from the kitchen, she lifts her head in hopes to see them at the table, but her eyes only meet a laptop and her dad’s dishes. Which was honestly quite disappointing.

Rafe sits her on her highchair, right at the end of the table he’s sitting and turns his laptop her away, seeing her droopy eyes light up at the sight of her “uncles”, who are mindlessly talking about Kelce’s avocado toast.

“Look who it is!” Topper screams again as his eyes laid upon the baby sitting in front of the computer.

Y/D/N slaps the table in excitement as she hears Topper and her toothless smile makes the boys’ awe at her cuteness.

Rafe smiles down at his baby while petting the top of her head, feeling her soft hair. The girl looks up at her dad once feeling his hand and continues giving out her sweet smile and adoring look.

Rafe walks away from the kid and over to the counter of the kitchen and lets the boys look after her (trusting them and their filters to not say anything inappropriate).

He starts heating up slightly his baby’s food and her giggles start to fill the kitchen as soon as Topper starts to make the silly faces he knows that Y/D/N loves.

Rafe scrapes the food off to Y/D/N’s bowl and grabs her favorite spoon from the drawer, before turning back around to the table. The baby girl’s eyes widen at the sight of the bowl and as soon as it is close enough to her reach, she snatched the spoon off it and started giggling loudly with excitement.

Thankfully both you and Rafe decided to spend some money on those bowls with the suction cups at the bottom off of Amazon, because breakfasts always seem to be way too exciting for your little girl.

Rafe turns his laptop a bit to his side so the guys can, now, see him as well and Topper continues their previous conversation, letting the small girl eat alone in peace.

“I don’t know, dude. That guy has been annoying ever since he and your sister started dating” Topper says out loud as Rafe looks at the mess next to him.

“Wait, we were talking about John B this whole time?” Kelce asks.

“Yeah! He thinks he’s a kook now. All dressed up to events and always on the Cameron’s boat”

As the two men talked, Rafe found a new sort of amusement: his daughter and how happily she’s eating. Since it surely is better than hearing Topper bitch about his sister’s new boyfriend. He doesn’t care what is going back on the island, he moved for a reason. And he does not want to have anything to do with the Outer Banks anymore.

“What about you, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Are you and Y/N going to this year’s Midsummers?” Kelce asks.

“Nah” Rafe says, laying his arm over the back of Y/D/N’s chair.

“Why not?”

“I prefer to stay at home with my girls than go to an event in that island, thank you very much”

As his sarcastic end of his sentence sounded past his lips, Topper was quick to change the theme of conversation, not wanting to go into serious mode this early in the morning.

(…)

“Baby, don’t touch that,” Rafe says while sitting at his desk, muting himself on discord for the possible hundredth time.

Y/D/N looks over her shoulder at her dad and pouts slightly at his warning. She just wants to feel what’s on top of mommy’s bedside table.

The girl sloppily walks away from the table and goes sit back down close to her dad, where her toys are. Rafe’s eyes stay on the little girl as she holds a pout on her lips, visibly upset over being rejected such an exciting experience (feeling and, eventually, letting your alarm clock fall off the table).

“Don’t be sad, princess. I just don’t want you to get hurt” Rafe emphasizes but doesn’t even get a look from the girl.

He looks back at the screen of his gaming computer, still waiting for Topper or Kelce to revive him in-game, and sighs out loud as the two of them hysterically scream, “THERE’S ANOTHER TEAM! ANOTHER TEAM! PUSH BACK! PUSH BAAAAACK”.

“We’ll get you back, Rafe, give us one second,” Kelce says.

“Alright,” He says, unmuting for just that second.

Rafe leans back on his chair, eyes moving from his screen to Y/D/N and he almost freaks out when he notices the trembling of her chin.

“No, no, no, no” He says, taking his headphones off in a quick movement and throwing them to the desk before getting up. Y/D/N lifts her teary eyes over at her dad and stretches her arms up right away.

He picks up the girl from the floor and as soon as she was close enough, she hid her face on his chest as she let out some whiny sounds, close to actual tears and loud sobs.

Rafe takes back his seat at the desk and holds his emotional daughter with one arm as he puts his headphones back on, hearing both Topper and Kelce keep screaming right away.

“Why you crying, baby?” Rafe asks, moving his hand up and down the small girl’s back to comfort her, “There’s no reason to cry”

Those words were enough to worsen the situation. Y/D/N in that same second, stood up on her feet in her dad’s lap, little fists grabbing his shirt tightly and eyes filled with tears.

Probably as her way to show true frustration but failing as she keeps losing her balance.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, helplessly looking at the girl expecting some kind of sign that would show him her reasoning. “Do you really want mamma’s alarm clock?”

The little girl shakes her head violently and falls back onto her dad’s chest, letting a small sob escape her lips.

“Food? Do you want food? Are you hungry?” He asks before starting to move his hand on her back.

No answer, just a louder whine, sounding as she’s getting more frustrated.

“Sleep? Do you want to go to bed?”

Yet another no.

“Rafe, you there?” Topper asks, noticing the silence coming from his (possible) close-to-tilting friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here, just talking to Y/D/N” Rafe answers before muting himself back up.

Rafe looks down at his baby girl once more and she looks absolutely heartbroken.

Over what? He has no idea.

He presses a kiss onto the side of her head and the girl leans in closer once feeling it.

“Do you want me to call mommy?” He asks in a whisper.

Y/D/N lifts her head off Rafe’s shoulder right on that second and she quickly nods, with her pouty lips and red chubby cheeks, wet by her tears.

Rafe takes his phone out of his pocket in a quick movement and unlocks it in record time.

And even though he is being the quickest he could, for the little girl on his lap, it felt like it was taking the whole eternity.

As soon as Rafe starts calling you on facetime, he just starts praying that you’re not in class or occupied with something too important.

He turns the phone to his side on his hands so that only Y/D/N’s face was on the screen and the little girl seems paralyzed with her reflection for a quick second.

Once Rafe hears the sound of you answering the call, he almost gasps and sighs in relief at the same time.

“Oh, hi princess!” You say over the phone as you noticed the sad looking girl on your screen, “What’s wrong? Did daddy do anything bad?”

Rafe stares at the girl silently, watching her eyes lift up with happiness at the sound of your voice and the use of the teasing tone. A babble comes off her mouth, something you’re sure neither you nor Rafe understood, and her eyes start filling up with tears again.

“Oh, baby don’t cry” You say once noticing her small chin quivering.

Rafe decides to change positioning as soon as he notices the girl slightly sliding down his lap, and he positions his phone on the desk, making it stand up by some of your books, and making sure only the small girl and his chest appeared.

The girl turns to follow her mom’s face on Rafe’s phone and sits on his thigh while leaning back onto his chest.

“She said she isn’t hungry or tired” Rafe explains as you continue to look at the screen with a worried expression.

He notices that you must be sitting in a random bench somewhere as you look around you and the phone’s camera tilts a bit to the sky.

“Rafe, MOVE! You can’t be AFK the whole round!” Kelce says loudly, making Rafe take off his headset and setting it down on the desk.

“And I also told her to not touch your bedside table” Rafe continues the explanation while setting a hand at his baby’s stomach so she stops sliding down his thigh, again.

You start to think silently of what would’ve made your baby so upset but you just can’t think of anything.

She isn’t hungry nor tired, she’s getting her dad’s attention and has all her toys.

“Maybe she just misses you” Rafe says, making you snap back to reality.

“But she never is like this when we’re both out and she’s with the babysitter”

Rafe sighs once feeling his small baby grab onto his hand tightly, just like she does with her toys.

“What should I do?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” You start but stop for a few seconds to think, “Honestly, just try to make her watch some videos or one of her favorite shows. Maybe she’s just bored”

You two talk for a bit more before you had to finish the call and run to class, and Y/D/N sat through the whole conversation just watching you and Rafe.

Rafe decided to do as told and go grab your iPad (where every single cartoon episode is saved in) to try and entertain Y/D/N.

And thankfully, as soon as Rafe positioned the iPad on the desk next to his screen with his daughter’s favorite cartoon already playing, a smile spread over the girl’s cheeks and her eyes are no longer holding the sad stare.

Rafe readjusts the kid on his leg so that she can sit more comfortably, and puts his headphones back on, letting one of his ears out so that he can hear anything that Y/D/N says.

“I’m back” Rafe says, unmuting himself, and starts moving in the game again.

(…)

“What about this one?” Rafe asks his daughter and she shakes her head violently, almost choking in her own sob. “Okay…”

Rafe puts the snack back in the cabinet and stretches his hand in to try and look for something else that would satisfy the small girl.

“And this?” He asks, “Do you want waffles?”

The girl stares at him for a second and then nods, a smile growing out of nowhere.

“Can you even eat waffles?”

The girl doesn’t answer back as she grabs her toy from beside her and playfully slams it on the small table attached to the highchair.

Rafe drops the waffles in the toaster and pushes the button down before turning back to the girl.

She looks so carefree that it doesn’t even seem like she was just screaming her lungs out. Her cheeks are still wet with previous tears but the mention of food (and the sight of it) was enough to make her forget about everything.

Both of them patiently wait for the waffles to pop back up from the toaster and as they do, both Rafe and Y/D/N look over at the hallway at the sound of the front door of the apartment open.

That only means one thing…

Their savior (mommy) is home.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-19 LIGHT: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“You shouldn’t question things you aren’t meant to know.“

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

By the time I returned backstage, everyone was discussing where they should go to celebrate later.

MC: You guys go on without me. I’ll catch up once I’m done packing up here.

Gao Cheng nodded before leaving with Wu Yue and the others.

I headed back to the preparation room alone. It was definitely way more empty now, compared to all the hustle and bustle that had been going on during the contest.

❖☆———————————★❖

The room was unlit, with only the faint moonlight filtering in through the window, casting shadows on the ground.

Just as I was about to flick the lights on, I felt someone forcibly drag me towards a wall with astounding strength.

In the dark, I could see the figure of a man standing before me, tall and broad-shouldered.

The proximity of his breath was scorching as it brushed against my face.

??: Shh.

??: I won’t hurt you.

This voice, this familiar scent…

MC: Osborn!?

The man stiffened for a moment, retreating a couple of steps back. The moonlight filtered in from behind him, lighting up the darkness that was between us.

Surprise flickered through his eyes, but they soon returned to their normal expression.

Osborn: You again?

MC: What are you doing here?

Osborn: Got lost.

MC: …You’re lost?

Somehow, that sounds less credible than when he previously tried to find something he’d lost up on the roof.

Osborn: What? Don’t believe me again?

MC: Of course I don’t. You’re clearly hiding someth—

The smell of blood permeated my nostrils.

❖☆———————————★❖

Relying on the moonlight to see, I realized that he was currently lazily leaning against the wall. Gone was the arrogance I’d seen that day back on the rooftop.

He used a hand to remove the receiver from his ear while the other was braced against the floor.  There was even a trail of blood on the side of his palm.

MC: You’re hurt?

❖☆———————————★❖

He didn’t reply to me, only sticking his hand into his pocket.

MC: You’re not going to bandage it?

Osborn: No need.

MC: ……

Strange person, a weird way of making an appearance, and a mysterious wound. Everything about Osborn made it hard for me to understand him, but even so…

MC: Let me treat your wound.

I walked up to the front of my work table and rummaged around the cabinets for a while, but I couldn’t find anything I could use as a bandage.

Guess there’s nothing I can do about that, then…

All I could do was to find a dress, carefully removing the silk scarf that had been pinned to its neckline, and fishing out some cotton pads from the cabinet.

MC: Clean your wound first, then use this to bandage it up.

Osborn didn’t reach out for the materials. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

Osborn: You made it?

MC: Mmhm. Why?

Osborn: It’s pretty beautiful. It’ll be a pity to use it as a makeshift bandage.

MC: It’s up to me to decide whether or not it’s a pity. Why are you worrying so much about it?

MC: It has already had its time to shine on stage. Using it as a bandage now is much better, and much more useful than merely shelving it.

He gave a slight start. Seeing as he wasn’t complaining, I took hold of his right hand and started bandaging it.

Osborn: Suddenly getting all bold now, are you? Not scared of me anymore?

MC: I wasn’t even scared of you, to begin with. And the last time was only because I thought you were a thief!

Osborn: Didn’t I just frighten you into a stupor earlier?

MC: You popped out of nowhere! Anyone would be scared by that!

A chuckle sounded overhead. He was chuckling so hard that even the hand I was bandaging started shaking slightly.

MC: Is this really that funny to you? Stop laughing at me.

Angrily tying the knot, I raise my head to glare straight into his eyes.

Those eyes of his, usually filled with such haughtiness, were now filled with a soft moonlit smile.

Osborn: Done?

MC: Yeah.

Osborn lifted his hand to have a look at my “handiwork” before giving a satisfied nod. However, his eyes suddenly turned hard and icy just a split second later.

He leaned down and pressed his index finger to my lips, signalling for me to keep quiet.

I unconsciously held my breath. I could feel the heat rising upwards, stemming from the warmth on my lips and spreading till even the tips of my ears were burning.

Thud, thud, thud.

The footsteps outside the door came closer and closer.

???: Where is the guy!? The bracelet is nearby!

???: Less talking, more working. We have to find it no matter what!

Bracelet? Are they talking about the one I saw up on the roof that day? I remember Osborn saying that he was the one who lost it, but why does it sound like many people are stepping over each other to obtain it?

My brain was still calmly trying to rationalize things, yet my body couldn’t help but start trembling slightly as I leaned against the door.

A hand suddenly reached out and pulled me over. I frantically raised my head, only to feel something cold get stuffed into my mouth.

Lemon drops?

Osborn: Stop worrying, have a sweet.

The sweet and sour taste of the cool candy spread through my mouth, making me settle down quite a bit.

I didn’t know how long it was before the footsteps outside the door started getting further and further away, until we could hear them no longer.

And thus, this danger that sprung out of nowhere concluded in an equally inconclusive manner.

MC: …They’re gone.

Osborn: I know.

MC: Then, let me go!

Osborn: Oh? And what if I refuse?

His face suddenly got closer, and I could see the mischief in his eyes much more clearly.

Flustered, I struggled in his hold for a while before he was willing to let me go.

Osborn: Alright, I’ve got to go too.

MC: Remember to treat your wound properly when you get home. I only bandaged it.

Osborn: That concerned even for bad guys?

MC: And just which villain will openly call themselves a bad guy?

Osborn: Why wouldn’t there be one? I am.

He opened the door a crack. The light from the corridor shone in.

❖☆———————————★❖

The icy winds rushed in along with the sound of a large number of glass windows collectively shattering. I was so startled that my shoulders shrank backwards, only to be shepherded into a firm and solid embrace in the next moment.

My field of vision suddenly turned pitch black. I hadn’t yet processed what just happened when suddenly, all I could hear was the sound of Osborn’s heartbeat. A strong and steady rhythm, blocking off all sounds of impending danger.

Osborn: Humph, looks like things are escalating now.

Footsteps accompanied by shouting could be heard from outside the window.

???: Found it! Over here!

Those people that were chasing him earlier actually went and broke the windows!?

Osborn released me, heading straight for the window.

MC: You’re going out!? Aren’t those people outside chasing you?

Osborn: You shouldn’t question things you aren’t meant to know.

Osborn: But, thank you for what you did just now.

He leapt, flipping himself out of the window and disappearing into the darkness outside.

I walked to the window. I could no longer see anyone there, but there was only a small lemon candy left sitting atop the windowsill in his wake.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-16) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-19 Night) / Chapter 1-20

[yuta-nakamots]

misfit - j.sc

Pairing - Sungchan x Reader

Genre - Horror/Thriller, Angst, Fluff

Warnings - serial killer, character death, violence, murder, implications of sex

Summary - A murderer is on the loose, killing with no regret and ending the lives of more than just a few people. No one knew who it was, turning against each other upon even the slightest bit of doubt. Maybe you should’ve been more careful with who you chose to trust. 

Word Count - 5.3k

A/N - this is inspired entirely from a dream I had a few days ago. I've added very little to what I saw in my dream aside from Sungchan as the male lead. yes, I am freaked out by this and yes, I am scared of writing for Sungchan bc I don’t know his personality all too well but as an ‘01 liner myself I have faith in us

Written for the #NeoHalloween writing festival hosted by @nct-writers​. Check out the masterlist here.

For five months now, your town has lived in fear. A serial killer was on the loose and he was known by the name of Hickleback Jack though no one knew where the name came from or who had started it. Each month, the population of your town voted on the local community board to have one person executed who they thought was Hickleback Jack. So far, not a single guess was right leaving five innocent people dead. Well, five plus an extra thirty, give or take.

See, the thing about Hickleback Jack, was that every time the votes came in at the end of the month, he could see just who voted for him and targeted them as his next victims. He killed six of those people over the following month, adding up to seven dead each time the town guessed incorrectly. It was getting to a point where no one trusted each other, no one dared to say anything against each other in fear of being accused or in fear of being the next to fall mercy to Hickleback Jack.

Not much was known about this killer other than his appearance. He’s male with a tall and broad figure though he always covers his face with some kind of mask. His common weapon is known to be an axe. People have claimed to have seen him late at night under the dim orange glow of the street lamps but he was never caught by the authorities, leaving everyone restless and waiting for the next kill.

The night was still young when you had gotten home from school and it was a Friday night which was basically an open invitation for you to call over your boyfriend, Sungchan. He had transferred in to your university at the start of the school year, and had ended up sitting next to you during your sophomore seminar class, leading to the start of your friendship with him.

A simple friendship soon blossomed into a relationship after Sungchan’s bright personality began shining through his somewhat intimidating exterior. You lived without fear when Sungchan was around, the love you had for him blocking out anything else in the world that wasn’t him.

You sat on your bed, your homework spread out in front of you while you held your phone up to your ear. “Do you want to come over tonight?” You ask as soon as he picks up your call.

You hear rustling on the other end of the call before Sungchan clears his throat and speaks, his voice husky from sleep. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I said, do you want to come over tonight?” You paused and heard him yawn. “You fell asleep after class didn’t you?” You smiled to yourself thinking of your boyfriend’s handsome face as he napped after getting back to his apartment once he finished with his classes for the day, which was a common occurrence now that the semester was in full swing.

“Mmm,” he hummed in thought, “as much as I’d love to, I really shouldn’t have taken that nap because of how much homework I have.”

“Oh, that’s okay, do your homework first,” you reassure him, “maybe we can hang out some other time this weekend. It’s only Friday after all.”

“Definitely. Are you starting yours right now?” Sungchan asked.

“Yeah, I’d rather not wait and end up cramming on Sunday night.” You laughed, knowing that said event has happened more times that you’d like to admit.

Sungchan let out a noise of agreement. “I’ll let you know when I’m done with my homework though.”

“Same here.” You promised.

“Alright, let’s get to work and I’ll talk to you soon.” He told you.

“Sounds good, love you.”

“Love you too.”

With that you hung up, eager to start on your homework in hopes of getting to spend more time with your boyfriend. You actually had a lot of it this weekend thanks to molecular biology, and you figured that if you couldn’t talk to Sungchan, who had yet to take the course, you called up your study group discord instead. Luckily, many of them were in similar situations as you, faced with the daunting task of completing all the worksheets assigned during class earlier in the day.

“Okay so was anyone paying attention during the lecture today?” Your classmate Chenle asked.

“I know Yeji fell asleep so you’re in the same boat as her.” You interject, recalling the sight of both of them knocked out in their seats as the professor droned on about the functions of the structures inside cells.

Yeji let out a gasp of shock at how blatantly you called her out. “I may have fallen asleep but at least I still know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“Everyone knows that, Yeji.” Your other classmate Jaemin said, his voice void of enthusiasm.

“Okay, Jaemin, we get it, Mr. Serious.” You teased.

“Yeah, this is a biology study group, not a bible study group, lighten up a little.” Chenle jokes.

Jaemin scoffed, “sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who’s trying to do well in this class.”

“Well not all of us enjoy the taste of coffee with six shots of caffeine in them.” Yeji argued back.

“Guys,” you called out as Jaemin and Yeji started arguing, “guys!” They finally stopped to hear what you had to say. “Let’s just get this over with sooner rather than later because I know none of us want to be awake at 2am trying to figure this out alone.”

“Agreed,” Chenle said, “so question three, the one about the DNA mutation, how is missense different from nonsense?”

“Missense is where one of the bases mutates and changes to something else, therefore changing the protein level,” Jaemin explained, “nonsense is the same theoretical concept except it spells out one of the stop codes.”

Yeji let out a groan, “can you slow down, or like, I don’t know, use easier words or something?”

Most of your night passed by like this and before you knew it, it was already nearing midnight and you could tell your classmates were just as exhausted as you. “I think we should call it here.”

“Definitely,” Yeji confirmed, “tomorrow morning at 10?”

You all let out similar answers of acknowledgement before Chenle spoke up. “The poll closes on tomorrow night so make sure to vote if you haven’t already.”

Because of how long this has been going on for, everyone was already on the same page once someone mentioned the poll or voting. “There were only five kills this month so I wouldn’t be surprised if the last one is announced tomorrow or Sunday morning.” Jaemin chimed in.

“All the recent kills were related to the university so I know a lot of people are suspecting someone in our age range.” Yeji informed the group.

Jaemin let out a chuckle, “if the killer actually is a college student, I wouldn’t be surprised since it is getting close to the last wave of midterms and then finals so that would explain why the victims fall into the same category.” The chat fell silent at that. “I’m just saying that he’s getting a little lazy by grouping all his kills like this.”

“Jaemin, are you sure you’re not the killer?” Chenle asked with a laugh at the end.

“Guys, I can promise you that I’m not the killer, I swear on my life.” Jaemin promised.

“Alright, that’s enough detective work for tonight, I’ll start the call again around 10 tomorrow. Sounds good?” You conclude, wanting to curl up under your covers already, which is exactly what you do once everyone wishes each other a good night and hung up.  

Morning came a little too quickly for your liking, the bright sunlight flooding into your room through the window and forcing you awake. Checking your phone, you saw that it was 9:30am, meaning you had some time to spare before your next meeting with the bio study group, along with a notification from Sungchan that he had sent well after you had fallen asleep.

Sungchan > y/n

2:14am: Just got rescheduled to work opening shift tomorrow.

2:15am: Didn’t finish my homework but I can stop by at your house after work with my stuff and we can hang out and have fun once we’re both done?

Your heart warmed at how he stayed up late trying to finish his homework for you and that he suggested the idea of coming over after his shift at a small local restaurant finished just so the two of you could be together even if you’d be focusing on your own tasks for a while.

y/n > Sungchan

9:32am: Sorry I didn’t text back earlier, I just woke up!

9:32am: But of course you can come over, I might even be done with my work by then ;)

You plugged your phone to let it charge and left it on your nightstand as you made yourself breakfast downstairs. The house was quiet since your mom already left for work and you dad worked a night shift job and was probably sleeping at the moment. It was strangely serene as you prepared yourself a bowl of cereal though the calm was rudely interrupted by the sound of your ringtone coming from your room.

Deciding to get it after eating breakfast, you poured the cereal in first, thinking about the way Sungchan had told you before that he liked to pour the milk first and let the cereal soak up the milk. “It makes it super soggy and I like it.” He tried reasoning with you, to which you only raised an eyebrow at.

Just as you put the milk carton back into the refrigerator and was about to take a bit of your cereal, your phone started going off again. You placed your bowl onto the kitchen table and made your way back up to your bedroom to see what it was that was so important this early in the morning. Checking the notifications, it was Yeji who had been calling you so you shot her a message.

y/n > Yeji

9:39am: What’s up?

Yeji > y/n

9:40am: I just dreamt that it was Jaemin who was the killer

9:40am: please call me right now I feel like I’m going to go insane

You heeded her words and called her immediately. “So what happened in the dream?”

“I don’t know, I just remember being chased by a man with an axe and I was running to the school to try to see if I could get help but then I tripped and when I turned around, it was Jaemin.” Yeji blurted out without a single breath in between.

You paused, trying to take in all the information she just threw at you. “Do you have any reason as to why you think you dreamt this?”

“The way he was talking last night,” she stopped to catch her breath, “he spoke so in detail that I couldn’t help but overthink like, what if he is actually the killer? What if we’re next?”

“Well, you can vote for him in the poll if you want but personally, I don’t think it’s him.” You think of your next words carefully. “I’m not trying to invalidate your thoughts but Jaemin does come from a reputable family-”

“Y/n, it could be anyone. Family doesn’t matter. We have no information on the guy, we don’t know what economic class he’s in or anything.” Yeji interrupted.

You took a few seconds to gather your thoughts before speaking again. “That is true, but we all know Jaemin wants to be a surgeon right? He’s in all these difficult classes and he maintains such high grades-”

“Okay but how is that relevant?” Yeji interrupted yet again.

She was getting on your nerves but you held yourself back. “Listen, I’m just trying to say that with the amount of time and effort he puts into school, I don’t think he could be the killer. The killer plans his kills well enough that we just can’t find him and that probably takes just as much time as school does for us.”

Yeji took a while to respond though when she did, her words surprised you. “Now you’re starting to sound like the killer.”

“Yeji, I can promise you that it’s not me. I’m just as scared as you are in this whole situation,” you reasoned, “I’ll even vote for Jaemin if it makes you feel better.”

She let out a sigh across the line. “Okay fine. Maybe a kill will happen while we’re on the call and it’ll clear Jaemin’s name.”

“I think you’re letting it all get to you, just try not to think about it for a bit.” You advised.

“But am I really overreacting y/n? We live every day in fear of being the next victim. Tomorrow is not promised to any of us, so am I really overreacting?” You look over at the clock on your wall as she spoke, realizing that it’s already 9:55 and you should probably start the call already.

“No, I don’t think you’re overreacting, I’m just saying that constantly thinking about it to this extent isn’t good for you. We still have school to pay attention to,” you explain, “speaking of, I’m gonna start the call now.”

“I can’t just stop thinking about it that easily but whatever, let’s just hope that we’re not associating ourselves with a murderer by doing this.” You can only shake your head as you start the call.

Chenle joined immediately followed by Yeji. “Good morning ladies, President Zhong here. How are we doing on this fine day?”

You rolled your eyes even though a smile spread across your face. “I’m doing good, Mr. President. Ready to finish off these worksheets.”

“Good, good,” Chenle affirmed, sticking with his act, “and you, Miss Yeji?”

“Fine.” She shot out.

Chenle let out a quiet chuckle, “someone’s a little grumpy this morning. Maybe we should’ve met a bit later.”

“No, let’s just get this over with.” Yeji grumbled just as Jaemin joined.

“Great! Now that the head brain cell is here, let’s get this meeting started.” Chenle exclaimed.

Four hours into your meeting and eight out of ten worksheets later, your phone begins to ring with an incoming call from Sungchan. “Hold on guys, I gotta take this call. Hello?”

“I’m downstairs, come pick me up.” You couldn’t deny the butterflies that spread throughout your chest upon hearing your boyfriend’s voice. You got up to let him in though you certainly didn’t miss the teasing coming from your laptop as your classmates yelled about you and Sungchan.

As you made your way downstairs, you froze halfway down the stairs, seeing Sungchan already in the kitchen eating the bowl of cereal you forgot about. “I’m guessing you made this for yourself earlier and forgot to eat it.” He said through a mouthful of food.

“Babe, no, don’t eat that, it’s like five hours old. The milk is probably stale.” You exclaimed, worried about his health if it really did go bad.

Sungchan only shrugged as he took another spoonful into his mouth. “Tastes fine to me.”

You rolled your eyes before turning to head back upstairs. “Join me in my room once you’re ready, you cereal monster. Leave the dishes in the sink too.” As you returned to your room, you couldn’t help but wonder how Sungchan got in though you figure he’s probably seen you use the spare key under the doormat a couple times since you often were too lazy to get your own keys out of your bag most of the time.

When you sat down in front of your computer again, Jaemin had just finished explaining the answer to the problem you guys were working on earlier so you chimed in asking him to go over it again though he was quickly overrun by an excited Chenle. “Is Sungchan there?” He practically yelled.

“No, not yet, he’s eating some soggy cereal downstairs.” You inform him.

“Alright, let me know when he comes in.” Chenle says, unphased by your boyfriends’ odd preference of cereal.

Halfway through Jaemin’s explanation, Sungchan came into your room, placing his bag down at the foot of the bed before he took his jacket off and stripped out of his work uniform. “I heard a door open, is that Sungchan?” Chenle shouted over Jaemin once more.

“I never get to fucking speak in this group.” Jaemin huffed, at which Chenle muttered a quick ‘sorry’ back.

“Yes, Chenle, Sungchan is here,” you announce, looking over at the boy in question who had just finished pulling a shirt over his head and winked when he saw you staring at his body, “he seems very flirty today, must be because of you, Mr. Zhong.”

Sungchan sits down next to you and places a kiss on your cheek, smelling oddly of cleaning supplies, but you pay no mind to that, figuring he must have used them at work. “How’s it going Chenle?” He asks, though his attention is only on you and he places his hands on your cheeks and leaves a quick kiss on your lips.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just hear the two of you kissing,” Chenle remarks, earning a laugh from Sungchan, “but anyways, you should come back to the basketball team. We miss our giant point guard, you know.”

“Nah, I’m too busy these days. I already have work and school plus I still want to spend time with y/n.” He commented as he shifted to lie on his stomach next to you.

“Man, who knew a girl would be all it took to make this dude throw his love for basketball out the window.” Chenle taunted.

“Love makes you do things, you know how it is.” Sungchan replied, resting his head on your thigh.

Running a hand through his hair, “anyways,” you divert, “back to what Jaemin was saying about meiosis.”

“Thank you, y/n, I thought I’d never be able to speak again.” Jaemin uttered pointedly. “As I was saying, the main difference between meiosis and mitosis is that it creates four daughter cells instead of two like mitosis does.”

“Hey guys, wait, did you see the article that just came out?” Yeji inquired. “It’s another death.”

There was a moment of silence before anyone said anything. “No but you can read it to us.” Chenle concluded.

“Okay,” you could hear the deep breath Yeji took before reading the article, “it says here that the body was found at around 1:20pm in an alley between the lower-income housing apartments, the cause of death is assumed to be by Hickleback Jack using his axe, and the estimated time of death is anywhere from 12 to 1pm.”

“Wow,” Jaemin began, “so he just killed out in broad daylight.”

“Not gonna lie Jaemin, but I thought you were the killer.” Yeji let out blatantly.

You were mildly shocked at her bluntness, but not surprised given how stressed everyone was. “Me?” Jaemin gasped, “Yeji, you know I’m pretty much Rapunzel with how much time I spend in my room studying. And when I’m not studying, I’m either editing pictures or playing video games.”

“It’s true,” Chenle confirms, “he really doesn’t leave his room. We had a sleepover once and I felt like I was becoming a hermit like him.” Sungchan slightly wheezed at that, sending Chenle over the moon. “Did you hear that? Did you guys hear that? Sungchan thinks I’m funny!”

“Yeah yeah, enough about me being a hermit. But Yeji,” Jaemin addressed, “why did you think it was me?”

Yeji hesitated before responding. “I just- the way you were talking the other night...I don’t know. It just sounded so specific and detailed that I couldn’t help but think that it could have been you.”

“I don’t think a murderer would simply reveal his plans like that, you know.” Sungchan proposed.

“Well yeah, but it’s just the way he spoke, it was like he had things organized...you know what? Let’s forget I said that, but I know the four of us are clear.” Yeji resigned.

Sungchan sat up, “wait, why am I not cleared?”

“Y/n, what time did he call you?”

“Like 2-ish.”

“Exactly. Sungchan, you don’t have an alibi, as far as we know, until 2 and the time of death is stated to be 12 to 1pm.”

“I was at work earlier in the day, though.”

“Can you prove it to us?” Yeji pressed on.

“Yeah, my coworkers can vouch for me.”

You were quite surprised at how aggressive Yeji was being towards your boyfriend but you didn’t see any reason to stop her since she had very valid arguments. “Send a screenshot of it to Chenle and we’ll verify you from there.” Yeji commanded.

Sungchan slouched down a little next to you. “I don’t have the numbers of my coworkers though.”

“Alright, then you’re still on the list of suspects.”

After finishing all the worksheets for microbio and ending the call around 3:30, Sungchan pulled out his laptop and started typing away at a half-finished lab report for his human A&P class. You fell asleep curled into his body, his warmth and the constant tapping of his keyboard lulling you to sleep.

When you woke again, you immediately noticed the absence of a large boy next to you and frowned to yourself. As you came to, you heard noise coming from the kitchen and identified your mother’s voice followed by Sungchan’s. Noticing the time on your phone, you guess that he was probably helping her prepare dinner since it was already past 6 and your family ate around 7 before your dad left for work.

By the time you made yourself presentable and came downstairs, your mom and Sungchan were already setting the table. “Looks like our sleepyhead finally woke up.” Your mother exclaimed, making you grimace. “You didn’t tell me Sungchan was staying over,” you were about to open your mouth to say that you didn’t know that either but you weren’t given the chance to do so, “it’s okay, especially with that killer still on the loose, it makes me feel better knowing there’s someone around to protect my baby.”

You looked at Sungchan as if asking him for answers though he seemed to only avoid your gaze, reluctantly taking the seat across from you at the dining table. Your father walked in, delighted to see your boyfriend. “Sungchan! Good to see you, how are things at school?” He asked as he joined you all at the table.

“Okay for the most part, I haven’t taken to my writing class all that much though I enjoy my other science classes.” Sungchan answers.

Your dad hums in approval while you stare down Sungchan, trying to get him to look at you. “Remind me again what you’re majoring in again?” Your mom asks, Sungchan whips his head around faster than you can make eye contact with him.

“I’m majoring in forensics.” He states.

“Interesting, interesting,” your father contemplates, “you know, y/n here wants to become a pediatrician. The two of you are practically opposites in the science field, one dealing with crime and the other dealing with children.”

Sungchan let out a laugh, “I guess opposites really do attract then.”

You hated how well he entertained your parents and you hated how much they liked him. For the rest of dinner you tried to pin him down through your stares and even played a game of footsie with him but nothing seemed to work. It was only once the two of you were back in your room getting ready for bed that you were able to talk to him.

“Look, I’m not mad at you or anything, I’d just appreciate it if you talked to me first before just telling my parents that you’re staying over.” You told him as you went through your skincare routine.

Sungchan jumped onto your bed as he apologized. “Sorry, I just thought that since both of us finished our homework and with the killing today, it would just make sense for me to stay over.” He opened his arms, inviting you in as you stood up after finishing your night routine.

You copied him, jumping into your bed straight onto Sungchan, effectively pushing the air out of his body. He grunted as your weight fell onto him though he still wrapped his arms around your waist and shifted you up the length of your body so your face was level with his. “Hi” you giggle, shy from the sudden close proximity.

“Hey.” He says back with a smile as you slide off him, leaving an arm and leg slung over his body. “Tired?”

“No, not really, I took a nap earlier since someone didn’t care to wake me up.”

“You looked too cute, besides, you need all the rest you can get.” Sungchan explained, using his free hand to squish your cheeks. “If you’re really not tired then I know a way to make you tired.” His hand found its way down to your butt to further emphasize his point.

“Ew, no, not now.” You quickly refused, moving his hand up to your waist. “Just go to sleep and I’ll probably fall asleep after you anyways.”

“Oh wait,” Sungchan said, reaching over you to the nightstand for his phone, “did you vote on the poll yet?”

“No, I almost forgot.” You groaned, lazily reaching for your phone as well.

You pull up the local community board and enter your information, looking at the list of all the citizens, pondering on who you’d give your vote to. “Who are you voting for?” Sungchan asks, looking over at your screen.

“I really don’t know.” You tell him, though truthfully, you had someone in mind.

Thanks to the nap you had, you really couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard you tried. You ended up dozing off occasionally but you’d wake up half an hour later only more irritated than when you first fell asleep.

You don’t remember what time it was, but at some point, Sungchan had removed himself from your grasp, unaware that you were still awake, though you made no effort to stop him thinking that he was just going to use the restroom and come back. Five minutes passed, five minutes turned into ten, then twenty, and you decided to check on him once thirty minutes had passed.

The house was completely dark, not even the light from the bathroom was on. You checked inside in case Sungchan had maybe gotten hurt and passed out, but he was nowhere to be found. After searching almost all the rooms in your house, you had yet to find any sign of him. After a bit of thinking, you had wandered out to your mothers’ greenhouse thinking that maybe some time with the plants would help to calm your mind.

It did anything but that.

Not long after setting foot inside of the small shed, you heard screams coming from nearby, getting closer and closer. You watched from the inside of the tinted glass as three girls ran through your backyard and into the next property. You couldn’t help it that you were frozen to your core, knowing who was coming.

You saw his frame as he jumped over the fence from the other end of your yard, axe in hand, running through the open grass and you thought he might have noticed you until he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes glued on you. You should’ve ducked down as soon as the girls ran past but it was too late now and there was no second way out of the greenhouse.

You knew you should have tried to run, maybe smash through the glass panelling but something in you told you that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to stop him. Steeling your nerves as he crosses the threshold of the greenhouse, you call out to him. “I know who you are.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

It was as if your world was crumbling before you, the once so comfortable relationship you knew felt fake, even though Sungchan, your loving boyfriend stood right there. The only difference was that you knew who he really was.

“Why?” You start, “why did you kill all those innocent people?”

“It’s all for fun, y/n.”

“What do you mean ‘for fun’? Those are real people you know, people with families and friends who miss them dearly.” You nearly cry out as he continues to approach you.

“You see, life is a game.” He paused his words as he came to stand in front of you. “Laws are nothing but a social construct that us humans follow mindlessly until our own demise.”

He takes a step closer to you, but you stand your ground. “Laws are what keep us safe and keep us happy. They allow us to lead our lives peacefully with others-”

“They are nothing but limits.” He closes the distance between the two of you, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you allow him to do so. “My dear, sweet, y/n. If only you weren’t so smart, I wouldn’t be faced with this dilemma.”

“You wouldn’t kill me.” You were trying to persuade him just as much as you were to yourself. “You’d never.”

“Oh? And what makes you think that?”

“You love me.”

“I do, I love you so dearly, but now that you know who’s behind all the killings, there’s no way that I can let you go.” You felt his axe nudge the back of your leg as he brought both arms around you. To an outsider, it would look as if a couple were having a conversation, but for you, this was a fight for your life.

“Take off the mask.”

“Why should I?”

“So I can talk to you properly.”

He took off the mask without much more convincing, his normally handsome face now distorted by the crazed look in his eyes. People often say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and if they really were, then Sungchan didn’t have a soul.

“I swear to you that I won’t ever tell anyone about this, about you.”

“I don’t believe that you’ll keep that promise, my dear.”

“You know how much I love you. As long as we can stay together, I will not say anything.”

“This is not a tale of beauty and the beast. I am no beast to be tamed and there is no happy ending to this story.”

“Sungchan, no. You don’t mean that.”

“Do I really not mean it, or is that what you would like to believe? Something tells me it’s the latter.” He held you tight against him with one arm, the other raising his axe. “It’s truly a shame that your beauty must go to waste, you were truly a wonderful person both inside and out but I’m afraid that your life must end here.”

Before he could prep his swing, you pulled away and grabbed the nearest pot, launching it at him, the ceramic breaking against his head making dirt rain down upon both of you.

Not even a second passed before his axe was flying at you, lodging itself into your neck, nearly severing your head from your shoulder. You should’ve been thankful really, thankful that Sungchan had given you a quick death, not his usual route since it was so painless and easy for both the victim and the assailant.

He liked a struggle, but for you he made an exception out of love so that the last thing you’d see was him, your lover, before everything stopped.

[mrs-hatake]

here comes the bride: prologue

pairings: levi x female!reader + minor zeke x female!reader.

genre: alternate universe, illegal car racing, suggestive themes, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, slow burn, falling in love, eventual smut, heavy make out sessions, hurt/comfort & fluff.

summary: “Fine.” She breathes out without bothering to hide her unhappiness. “I’ll get married.” She swallows the bile at the back of her throat. Her mother casts a radiant smile her way and weakly reaches out to take her hand in hers. 

“Thank you.” She says sincerely, bringing Y/N’s hand to her lips and kissing it with difficulty. “I’m sure you’ll come to love Levi, he will treat you right.”

a/n: helloooooo!I'm back with another aot fic :Dthe plot for this fic came to me randomly and i instantly fell in love that i HAD to write everything down. each chapter will contain trigger warnings if necessary and this chapter is tagged with tw for mentions of death and manipulation. lastly, I would like to thank my soulmate for helping with proof reading and selecting the appropriate characters for y/n. that's all that I have. happy readings! ❤️

this fic can also be found on ao3

The sound of the monitor is deafening. It’s consistent beeping is accompanied by the soft pitter patter of the rain outside as the weather slowly transitions from spring to summer, emitting an ominous atmosphere. The grey clouds and the wind howling outside, the large rectangular windows outside don’t help with the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. People rush to seek shelter and cars zoom by despite the slippery streets, eager to reach their destination without delay.

A small family of three surround a luxurious hospital bed which fully showcased their financial status and class. The bed was covered in the finest linen, a soft cream color and the silkiest pillows that accommodate  absolute comfort.

An air purifier with the aroma of lavender and honey is found in almost every room of the hospital, masking away the horrible stench of disinfectant and death. However, it still lingers in the air, like a criminal imprisoned for life.

The woman on the bed is pale, no longer looks like the tanned Goddess that had been dubbed Miss Osaka at the Young Ladies of Japan debutant three years in a row. Her long and healthy locks have lost their sheen and are brittle and dry, split ends can be seen and her grey hair is on display, when she usually dyes them every two months. The healthy fat in her body has dissolved, leaving nothing but skin and bones. Despite all of this, her glimmer of ebullience still lives on.

“How are you feeling, mother?” A young woman in her early twenties is sitting on a wooden chair next to the hospital bed with a look of worry on her face. Her fingers are brushing through the knotted hair of the dying woman on the bed while her other hand tightly holds her mother’s boney and wrinkled hand.

The older woman offers a weak, gentle smile. “I’m fine. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” She chuckles but is soon coughing heavily, eyes shutting tightly to fight off the pain in her lungs.

“Are you alright? Should I call the nurse?”

The older woman shakes her head, however, and instead motions for the pitcher of water and the empty glass on her bedside table. Understanding dawns on her daughter’s face and she hurriedly pours a glass of warm water and hands it to her mother and helps her sit up straight to drink the entire glass in one go, her mother gasping in relief once the glass is empty.

“Mamiko.” A man in his mid sixties rubs his hand over his face in distress. He had been wearing a mask of bravery for his wife and two daughters, but seeing his usually strong and stubborn wife look so frail and weak frightened him. Memories of them butting heads, teasing each other and fighting over the course of their marriage reminds him of just how fiery his wife was. Seeing her in such a state tears off the mask he’s wearing on his face and tosses it away, exposing his true emotions.

“I’m fine, Masamune.” The woman waves him off and motions for her daughter to press the remote to raise the head of her bed so that she can sit up straight. She gives a pointed look to her husband, as if to prove her point.

All that her husband can do is sigh.

Just then, a timid knock reaches their ears and a smiling nurse enters the room with an apologetic expression on her youthful face. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are ending soon.” She reminds them gently.

Masamune tiredly nods his head and pushes himself away from the wall to cross the short distance to where his wife is resting on the bed and lovingly kisses the top of her head. “Come back to us soon.” He whispers before heading towards the door, awaiting his two daughters.

“Get well soon, mother.” The younger of Masamune and Mamiko’s daughters, Tsukiko, is a twenty year old woman in her third year of law school and is aiming to achieve her Intellectual Property Law Certificate to assist her family in the future. She bids her mother goodbye with gentle eyes and a strong squeeze to her hand.

Y/N is about to get up from her chair and mimic her father by kissing her mother goodbye, when the older woman interrupts her, “Y/N, stay. I need to discuss something with you.”

Glancing to where her father and sister were lingering by the door, she nods her head and remains in her seat. She has a feeling that her father and younger sister are aware of the topic her mother wishes to discuss with her.

When the door is softly shut behind the two, Mamiko turns to face her eldest daughter and the heir to their company. “Have I ever told you the story of the day you were born?”

Growing up, Y/N had heard the story of her birth countless times from her parents, her grandmother who had been living with them at the time, and the maids living in their mansion all told her about it. They coined it as the funniest situation they’ve ever experienced in their lives. She had heard the story so many times that she has it memorized. Still, she shakes her head no.

“It was my twenty-fifth birthday. Your aunt Chiaki insisted that we have a girls night to celebrate the big day.” Her mother chuckles at the memory of a young Chiaki who had recently gotten a pixie cut after a terrible break up with her boyfriend of three years and how she had practically dragged Mamiko out of their house.

“We did your typical girly traditions; going shopping, getting our nails done, the usual.” Her mother weakly waves her hand. “Little did I know, your father had gathered up everyone who could come to our home on short notice for a surprise birthday party. It was around three or four o’clock in the afternoon that Chiaki and I finally decided to return home. I opened the door and the lights flickered on and a discordant ‘Happy birthday!’ was yelled. I was so elated and touched by their surprise that I couldn’t stop laughing! I laughed and laughed for five minutes straight, literally, when I felt a warm and tingling sensation trickle down my legs. Though I should be embarrassed at the thought of wetting myself in front of our guests, we quickly realized that the speed and the amount of liquid rushing through was actually because my water broke.”

“Everyone screamed and squeaked at the arrival of the baby. Panicking, I was rushed into the car with your father hysterically, frantically gathering all of the necessities we need for your delivery and drove all the way to the hospital like a mad man. Now that I think about it, I’m surprised we didn’t get into some kind of accident.” Mamiko hummed at the thought and then turned to face her daughter with raw affection in those fatigued eyes of hers, and with a shaky hand, cupped her daughter’s cheek. “And two days later, our beautiful baby girl came into our world. Your father had complained that you were as stubborn as I am for taking two days to arrive but I knew that you were taking your time to get comfortable and face the world head on.”

Y/N offered her mother a small smile as she desperately tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill and swallow the thick lump in her throat. “I love you.” She whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I love you too.” Her mother returns the sentiment with a small curl of her lips.

“And you were such a joy to raise, your sister, too? of course but you were our first. Our first child, our first daughter and our first experience as parents. There were difficult times, I can’t deny that, but seeing the woman that you are today, it was worth it.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from filling her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. She licks the single tear that lingered on her tongue and turned her head to kiss her mother’s palm. “I’d trade the whole world for you to return home to us in good health.” Y/N’s voice is broken but her sincerity is firm.

“I know you would.” Her mother says as she retrieves her hand. “Which is why I hate myself for asking you for such a request... but I want you to know that I am doing this out of love and care for you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows draw together in confusion before realization dawns on her and she vehemently shakes her head in denial before her mother could voice her request. “No. No, I won’t do it.”

“Please, Y/N.” Mamiko holds her daughter's hand with hers using all of the strength she could muster. “Think of it as my dying wish.”

Y/N continues to shake her head but this time her shoulders are shaking as sobs rake her body. “Don’t say that!”

Neither of them say anything as Y/N continues to cry at the predicament they are in. Her mother; old, frail, and dying and is begging her to do the one thing that Y/N loathes more than anything. She had fought all her life with her parents to be emancipated from their backwards traditions, live her life how she sees fit and make her own decisions accordingly.

“I know your father and I weren’t the perfect example of a happy couple and that you have witnessed things little girls your age shouldn’t have witnessed but we tried to be decent and put together for your and Tsukiko’s sake.”

Suddenly, the memories of her parents screaming at the top of their lungs, insulting each other with words that Y/N knew she wasn’t meant to hear, and her father harshly grabbing her mother’s upper arm until it bruised, all came flooding in that moment. She had bare witness to their flawed marriage.

“I won’t force you into an arranged marriage, but I won’t die happy knowing that my first and eldest daughter isn’t married.” Mamiko knows that she is guilty of manipulating her daughter into a marriage, especially by using her nearing death as leverage, however, she is certain that her daughter will one day find it in her heart to forgive her. And that’s why she pushes on with her dying wish.

“Your father and I have already found a suitable man-”

“You found someone behind my back?” Y/N unintentionally snorts at her mother as though she does not care. She is hurting and is scared of being blackmailed into marriage.

Mamiko withholds the urge to heavily sigh at her daughter and patiently explains herself. “Your marital status has been haunting us for years, we can’t just ignore the fact that our daughter wishes to remain single for the rest of her life.”

“And you can’t just respect my wishes, can you?”

Mamiko’s eyes seem to glass over and get shiny, she hesitates, yet still won’t back down. She was doing this for her daughter. “Stop being stubborn for once and listen to your mother.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she humorlessly chuckles at her mother. She had done everything for her mother’s sake, sacrificed so much to make her happy. And the one time Y/N asks for the same in return, she is strongly denied of it.

Her mother’s coughing fit snaps Y/N out of her stupor and she hastily refills the glass with water and gives it to her. Perhaps it could be the works of her mother’s illness or the inevitable truth of her mother’s demise that has Y/N letting out a noiseless exhale, her shoulders sagging as she slumps into her seat.

“Fine.” She breathes out without bothering to hide her unhappiness. “I’ll get married.” She swallows the bile at the back of her throat.

Her mother casts a radiant smile her way and weakly reaches out to take her hand in hers. “Thank you.” She says sincerely, bringing Y/N’s hand to her lips and kissing it with difficulty.

“I’m sure you’ll come to love Levi, he will treat you right.”

When she hears that name and recognizes who he is, it feels like cold water is being dumped all over her and she shivers at the thought of a future being married to an expressionless and strict man. In that instance, she felt like she wanted to bolt and run away with a new identity. But for her mother’s sake, she puts on a brave smile and nods her head.

[plush-rabbit]

I Want To Hear You Say It

Chapter 3: Claw Marks

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Listening to the FNAF timeline and thinking about that tiktok

Prev.

He dreads going to the hideout. He doesn’t want to think about what he's going to say, what excuse he’s going to make up that will keep everyone satisfied with his answer. The correct thing to have done on the journey home would have been to make up a believable lie but without the safety of numbers and the area that he was in- he had to focus on not getting caught- his mind too preoccupied with his surroundings to actually have time to think. 

His steps are heavy, short breaths that fill his lungs and leave in puffs, bones aching and he finds himself nearing the building. Dark in color, weeds sprouting from the edges, the color of the building, once something deep and polished, is now faded and dirtied with random tagging symbols that have long been washed out by the weather. He stands at the door, sky clouded overhead and a light mist that falls onto him and makes him uncomfortably wet. His stomach is full with chicken that you bought and shared with him. The hideout is dark, the windows boarded up and he can’t hear a sound coming from inside. No screaming, arguing, music, or singing. Tomura stands outside a hidden door and he takes in a deep breath, cold air chilling at his throat and making his mouth dry.

He walks inside; the door creaking as it announces his arrival to anyone who is willing to listen. His eyes scan around the old room, the floor solid underneath as he takes careful steps, hands poised and a deep unsettlement that settles in his bones as the stillness seems to place everything inside on pause. His mouth opens, his tongue coming out to lap at his lips, a passing thought flashes by that he should call someone’s name but as quick as it came, he denounces it just as quickly. He won’t risk calling someone’s name- someone could be listening in, the hideout could be abandoned and still wiretapped in case any wandering heroes had gotten lucky- no, he’ll walk around and assess.

He takes a careful step forward and then the room is bathed in a yellow light. His shadow stretches and distorts, elongating and he feels bare, his face naked and cold, immediately, placing his hand over himself in a mock attempt to mimic Father. His eyes snap up, hand already reaching forward with every intent to rid the possible threat until he lands on sun colored eyes. 

“Tomura-kun!” Toga says especially, her smile wide and a slight skip to her step as she walks towards him. “You are alive!” The way she says it makes it sound as if there were doubts. “Took you long enough to get back, huh?”  Her smile is almost teasing as she rocks back and forth on her heels. 

He gives her a disgruntled look, eyes narrowed and wants to snap a response towards her. His eyes meet hers where she does not falter, smiling sweetly at him with a certain glint in her eyes. “Where are the others?” 

Her smile falters, a hand at her side fisting at the loose material of her joggers. The hem of an oversized sweater spilling past the waistband of the joggers. “Sleeping,” she says with a tight voice and under the light he realizes that her arm is dusted in a purple bruise, dark in color as it spills to blue with a hint of sickly yellow. “Where were you?” 

He eyes the bruise, a scowl on his lips as he meets her gaze yet again. “Nowhere important.” Words get stuck in his throat, the bruise dancing in his peripherals, filling his mind with other unseen possible injuries. Her face is clean, free of any marks as she stands in front of him. She can stand; Toga is still standing in front of him. “The mission?” His nails dig into his skin, pulling at the old scars that have long closed up.

Her smile falls and he finds annoyance lapping at him. She shrugs, her hands spreading wide as she looks at him and her shadow dances along with her. “Went as planned. We were able to find a new location in case this one goes south but we did run into trouble while transporting the items.” 

“Trouble?” He takes a step towards her, eyes glancing behind her trying to find wandering movement that lies in the shadows.

“Spinner hit his head pretty hard so for now he’s resting. Twice went to find Giran so he can bring in some type of aid or something-” she waves her hand in a tired circle- “I didn’t really pay attention,” she finishes, her smile returning. “Anyways, now that you’re here, I’m going back to bed.” She turns on her heels, her hand coming up to cover her yawning mouth. She pauses as she steps to the other side of the entrance to the hallway. “Oh, by the way,” amusement has left her face, a thin smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes, “your hands on your bed. You must have dropped them when we split.” 

He stands in the empty room, eyes growing heavy and anxiety grabbing at his insides. His collar is too close to his neck, wrapping around the base in a tight hold that makes it impossible to swallow, acid riising and leaving a tart taste on his tongue, heavy and sickening. “Thank you,” he whispers to an empty room with eyes glued where Toga stood just a minute ago. His hand spills from his face and falls beside him in a limp.

The doors that line the hallway and spill onto different ends are all closed, subtle chipped marks carved into the wood to indicate which rooms are occupied. His hair still smells of your shampoo, light and sweet. His clothes reek of what you used to wash them. His hand forms into a fist as he thinks about you. It’s a fleeting thought that he latches onto and soon enough he isn’t able to escape you from entering his mind. His hand wraps around the doorknob with a pinky raised as it twists under his palm. He enters his room as you enter his mind. True to her word, his hands are displayed on his bed, laid in an orderly fashion.

He stands at the edge of the bed, eyes lidded as he stares at the hands. Slowly, he grabs each hand, one by one, each placed back at their respective spots, a heavy weight that falls on him with each addition, a tight grasp that holds onto him with a promise to pull him down and suffocate him, the promise of false love and a mock hug as hands encase him. The last hand that goes on his face is held tenderly, the palm facing towards his face, an open strike that is welcomed and makes him feel calm, settling his nerves for just a moment. The hand is cold and heavy against his warm skin. The thick cartilage is tough- sturdy and unwavering- his fingertips flutter against the raised bridges, lowering until it reaches the metal end. 

His hands are nothing like your hands. 

He can almost feel your touch. It was light and fluttery, soft against his face. You held him with care, trying to calm him down when the first thing he had done to you was pin you down. You were nice to him. You told him that you had done it because you wanted to believe that you were a good person. His hand tremors, sliding past the metallic end, a light brush against his chest that stills as it reaches his stomach, clenching at the shirt with a careful grip, twisting the fabric in his hand. You quite literally picked him off the streets and gave him a temporary home. You gave him kindness that he hasn’t witnessed or felt in so long. You were kind to him- doting over him and making sure that he was fed. You washed his clothes and had calmed him down when he feared that he had lost his hands. Your hands held him together, grabbing at him and pulling him close to you. He sucks in his bottom lip, remembering the pull of your thumbs against his chin, the touch that you gave him that didn’t fill him with sickness.

He misses your touch. There’s a deep tug in his body. It pulls at him, tugging against his very essence and making him feel stretched out. His chest stutters, rising and dipping with lungs that expand and a heavy flush that warms his body. His eyes go wide, pupils dilating as he leans over, hand leaving his stomach and resting on the bed in a closed fist, the pads of the fingers dig on the top of his head, clenching as they squeeze his head with a painful grip.

He doesn’t need this right now. He doesn’t need you invading his mind. He can’t handle the thoughts and feelings that come with you. The need to see you. The need to have your hands replace the ones on his neck. He’s breathing heavy, wheezing over the bed, mouth gaping under the palm of Father, his heart erratic and mind wandering. He’s never felt like this before. He’s never had emotions this strong. The desire to see you is stronger than anything he’s ever faced- stronger than anything he remembers. He’s gasping for air, eyes watering and he stands straight, a hand placed along his neck as his nails etch themselves against him, sin bleeding out, hot and thick against his skin. 

-

The sun is setting, casting a soft orange glow across the city as you walk home. It’s quiet, your phone buzzing in your hand and merely swipe at the notification for the Discord chat that you’re part of but never engage in. The time reads back to you and you come to a slow, walking towards the edge of the building, standing against the corner with eyes trained on the time. 

You wouldn't call yourself overly paranoid. Sure, you've heard things that go bump in the night and hid yourself under the covers rather than go and investigate, you've slept with rather odd, sharp objects under your pillow and have practiced time and time again how quickly and quietly you can reach into your bedside drawer and pull out a pair of scissors. But that was in the past. You've grown past the need to hone your skills and now all you have for protection is an old stuffed bear with stuffing that has gone limp and dull. 

You stand at the edge of the alleyway, taking a few steps into the dampen area, clicking your tongue as you step into a puddle. There’s a deep feeling that washes over you, making you chew on your bottom lip and edge deeper into the growing dark area. You take a small step to the side, your head tilting as you search for any shapes that are too humanlike, looking for anything with soft, blue hair or a hint at it and with a final step, your phone buzzes your hand. It’s stronger- a phone call, you realize. Snapped out of whatever trance you had, you turn around and make your way out of the alley, frowning as the words “Scam Likely” is written on your phone. You click and pull at the red phone symbol, the call ceasing immediately and you walk in a crowded street.

Perhaps you should have given Tomura your phone number. Or had offered him a ride or insisted that he stay for another night. He didn’t seem well enough to leave- much leave the way that he did. You purse your lips, your pace increasing as you walk home, your bag patting lightly against your back. If you had at least given him your number then he could have called you or sent you a message indicating that he was home or at least safe. You let out a sigh, your lips pulling into a thin line. 

The trek to your apartment is short, your hands resting along the rail as you climb the steps, unable to stray from the memories of when you had to help carry him up the steps. He had only rested for a day- if you wanted to be generous- and had eaten only two meals and slept on a couch. He couldn’t have possibly been comfortable. Maybe if you had insisted that he stay another night then you could tell if he had been lying about any hidden injuries. But there was no dried blood when you checked the shower, no stain that had caught against the porcelain or carpet- it was clean. You fret over a stranger- the only facts that you know of are that his name is Tomura, he works in a bar, and he’s socially inept. You check the time on your phone- there could be a possibility that you can pass by the same area and see if he’s there or any trace of him- but no. You grimace at thought- it sounds too stalkerish, as if you’re waiting for him to arrive and if he is there by any chance, you don’t want him to feel bothered or- You gasp as you bump shoulders with someone, stumbling a bit and you're grateful you’re on a flat surface rather than the stairs. 

“Oh my goodness!” You raise your shoulders, pulling them close to you. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking-”

“Hey, hey,” the person says in a calming voice and you close your mouth, stepping away as your neighbor comes into view. “It’s cool, don’t worry about it.” He stands tall in front of you, a soft purple hue of skin that darkens slightly at the tip of his ears. Spiky hair that jets out in multiple directions, a dark blue that almost shines blue and purple under the light covers his forehead in wispy bangs with two curled, ram-like horns that protrude from the side of his head, dark in color with silver highlights. “I wasn’t looking either-” they laugh, sending you a friendly grin that is quickly overwritten with concern- “Are you okay?”

“Oh, er, yeah. No, I'm fine. Sorry about bumping into you again-” you step to the side, already waving a goodbye- “I’ll-”

“Wait!” He says in a rushed tone, spinning on his heels to look at you, a nervous chuckle spilling past his lips. “I, uh- Ha, sorry. So uh, did your friend go home?” He jerks his head to your door, eyes shifting nervously.

You blink at him, the moments with Tomura briefly forgotten as you strike conversation with your neighbor. “Oh, yeah. He went home last night,” you trail, the word “home” not feeling correct on your tongue. 

“Oh, really?” I uh- didn’t see him.” His smile is tense and his eyes widen. “Not that I was spying or anything. I had to pick something up from the pharmacy late last night and I noticed-”

“No, yeah. He left.” You give him a tight smile and edge backwards. “Listen, I have to go and put... something away.” You give him a final grin, toothy and forced. “Bye!” You wave a goodbye at him and promptly hurry to your door where you- thankfully- have no trouble opening it.

You shut the door, your back against the wooden frame, your eyes drooping and you slide slowly to the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head on the spot that you have created. Your bag presses uncomfortably into your back, the items inside pressing into the faux leather and into your soft back.

You close your eyes, trying to hear the sounds of wandering steps, mouth pulling into a thin line, and brows knitting together. “Maybe I should have asked him if he saw him anywhere,” you mumble under your breath. You let out a bitter laugh, raising your head and resting it against the door with a faint thud. “Great,” you whisper to yourself, “now I’m thinking about him.” You exhale, letting your eyes close with a weak smile stretching across your lips. “Well,” you trail, slowly opening your eyes, “it’s out of my hands now. Best I can hope for is that he’s home safe.” You push yourself off the floor, wincing slightly at the movement. 

You flutter around the apartment, changing out of your uniform into something more comfortable, your hands aching and body accepting the weariness that it possesses. Your sock clad feet walk around the apartment, phone in hand, as you walk into the kitchen.

It’s a decent size, enough for things to be ordered in a way that makes it feel both cluttered and homely. The fridge is decorated in an assortment of magnets- new with vibrant colors and cute designs, old and faded, simple in design but something from long ago- pictures and various numbers and business cards placed on the surface. You open the fridge, food and ingredients inside but it’s too much work to actually prepare the food itself and wait for things to defrost. You close the fridge with a huff and make your way to the living room. 

You stand at the edge of your couch, the blanket that Tomura used is folded at the end of the couch. Your brows knit, a frown tugging on the corner of your lips. You sigh sadly and there’s a bitter taste on your tongue, thick and heavy, and you scrunch your face. In your hand, your phone gives a curt buzz- a message from your friends. Your mood brightens and you sit on the opposite end of the couch, away from the blanket, and curl up at the end, eagerly responding to your friends' plethora of messages that you had missed- and partly purposely ignored due to heavy thoughts- on your walk home.

-

You sleep on the couch, covered by a throw blanket, a deep blue color that covers your frame as you curl under, a stuffed animal in your grip with shiny black eyes that reflect the television, an assortment of colors played against the room, and reflecting in the eyes of your comfort object. You sleep soundly, undisturbed and protected by glass, watched and protected by a pair of crimson eyes, between the blinds. Tomura Shigaraki sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, thin scratches around his neck and a burning desire in his chest to reach forward and accept your generosity that you had given him. 

He’s confused on why he’s here. He's out in the open, Father on his face which would surely give away his identity- could that be why you didn’t recognize him, he wonders- and he’s outside like a stray animal, waiting by your door and watching you sleep. Maybe that’s why he’s back. You didn’t fear him and while fear is something that he really does long for, something that so undeniably means you have the upperhand in something, it was different this time. You sat near him, did his laundry for him and cared for him on the pretense that you wanted to be a good person. That’s almost laughable, really. You treated a literal villain as some wounded puppy and practically saved his life. Heck, if it was anyone else or maybe if you had decided to watch the news more often, he would’ve been found out and captured. You wanted to be a good person and because of that, you are good to him. 

It’s fascination more than anything. This odd sense of longing towards you, the way that your hands felt on him and how you fretted over him as he panicked- he places his hand over Father and lets out a breath. The air cool, nipping at him with a slight shiver, and he looks inside with blank eyes, remembering how it felt to be inside, the candy scented candle that filled the room and how overtly sweet it was when he woke up. You were nice to him, there didn’t seem to be a hero in sight, so the probability of you being watched over is fairly low- you were nice to him and you trusted him enough to know where you lived. His leg tremors, eyes narrowing through the gaps of the fingers on his face as he stares at your unmoving frame. His hand flutters against the glass, index resting followed by the other three, and his prints are left.

Your blinds are left open and he snorts at your lack of self-preservation. He can let it slide since your little home isn’t somewhere where people can easily see. But here you are, covered by a blanket that he hadn’t used- the one he touched remains folded at the end, untouched and your legs pulled away from it. He watches you for a long time, his phone buzzing with either notifications from his mobile games or those from the League. If he were to be frank, he finds it all so difficult. He’ll complete and fulfill his vision, he’ll lead his comrades into victory, But for now, he'll rest against your balcony, and watch you sleep.

taglist:

@dillybuggg @gladiatorandroid

[shinygoldstar]

Wishing for Peace

(DP PMMM crossover featuring Pariah the magical prince)

@13thdoodle 's last dp pmmm comic with pariah added in the last panel sparked several plot ideas for pmmm-verse pariah dark in the discord server. Plot idea spawned.

(kept the canon names because the whole plot is already AU enough that changing the name would make it not DP at all lol)

AO3 Added!

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Pariah was the fourth in line. He was a prince. But not one that would inherit the throne. The spare of the spare's spare. There's no chance he would ever be crowned king. But he didn't mind. He was only 6 and Kings are things beyond his interest. His only interest right now is his new friend Clockwork.

They grew up together. The royal playmate that Pariah took a liking to. Clockwork never bent to his wilder demands nor his tantrums but would fulfill his whims when it benefited both of them.

As the fourth in line, no one cared much about the prince sneaking out of the castle. They didn't have time to worry about a child when there is war looming over the horizon. Their neighboring country was shifting, rumors of conscription, of metals being hammered into sharp blades and edges. Negotiations with their neighbor have soured in the past decade, drought making people restless. Their land had a major river passing through that alleviated their drought but their neighbor didn't. They had to prepare for invasion.

Pariah was 10 when his Father didn't return. His eldest brother was crowned king. He was 12 when his second oldest brother was crowned next. A year later, his next brother was crowned. He was next in line.

"I wish people didn't have to suffer, Clockwork. Wars only bring more sadness and losses to everyone. Why fight when we can share?"

When his brother's favorite helmet came back without him, Pariah locked himself in his room and wept. He wasn't close to his two oldest brothers but the third brother always set aside time for him. His first sword fight lesson was taught to him by his brother. His first hunting trip was accompanied by his brother. His first set of bow and arrows...

He wished the world is kinder. If the world is kinder there would be no wars, no strife. His brother would still be here.

.

'You wish to change the world.' It was a statement not a question. Pariah looked around his room but saw nothing out of ordinary. 'Over here.' the voice rang young and clear. 'On your right. By the window. Yes that's me.' Pariah did not recall bringing a stuffed animal into his room. It? appears to be the mysterious speaker. "What are you?"

'I am kyubey. A wish contractor.'

"I did not hire a wish contractor. If you wish to work for me please schedule an appointment."

Silence.

"You are intruding my private time. Please leave. Before I call the guards."

'It is strange. Under normal circumstances I offer to grant wishes to a different group of human but something draws me to you. You have the potential to be a magia.'

.

He made a deal with the strange being. He had his doubts that he had hallucinated meeting the strange being but the ring on his right hand was the solid proof that the meeting did happen. That he had formed a contract with the being. He rolled the ring idly on his palm.

True to its promise, the following month after Pariah was crowned, the neighboring countries agreed to a peace agreement. All was peaceful. All prospered.

Peace reigned for 8 years.

Then his councilman betrayed him. Betrayed Pariah's dream.

A child with foreign blood was caught stealing an apple from a fruit vendor. The councilman ordered the child's execution. Their country neighbor demanded an apology. The man refused.

"Why? Why did you kill the child!? He was just a child! You should've given him a lighter sentence! Not even our own people are executed for theft!"

"Them! It's their fault! Why should we bow down to these-", he spat out a vile insult,"They killed our families! They killed your family. My king, we should've fought them back! We would've won under your guidance! Why did you offer peace to them? They don't deserve it!"

With heavy heart, Pariah had to order the man's execution to satisfy their neighbor country's demands of apology. But the peace was no longer secure. Both sides were angry. Old conflicts were brought up. Rude gestures and verbal insults turned into fights. Discontent grew on both sides. Despite his abilities to persuade people, Pariah was unable to diffuse it.

.

War is back on the horizon. Pariah's wish for peace just wasn't enough. His people expects him to lead the war.

"So this is it. I've lost. Not to battles, not to wars. But by my own people. By human nature. I have forgiven our neighbors for depriving me of my family. We all lost our precious people in the first war. It's not just us. They too lost their loved ones. Yet why does no one understand this? Why do you wish to resume the war? To lose more loved ones? And for what? A brief moment of satisfaction that you've won? Why can't we all coexist in peace?"

Pariah sighed. His once bright ring had turn dark and rusty. He rolled it around in his hand, an accustomed habit of his ever since he received it. He turned to look at his long time friend.

"I'm tired Clockwork. And yet my heart yearns to help them. Will you do it for me please my dearest friend? Take care of them in my stead?"

Clockwork looked up from the war map, "Are you going somewhere Pariah?"

Pariah turned to face the window.

Looking out at his kingdom and beyond, he continued, "It seems my time is up. I knew this would come one day but not this soon. But even if I were to reverse time again I would still wish for peace. I regret not being able to stop this from happening but I do not regret making the wish. Does this make me a terrible person Clockwork?"

"...Pariah? Are you alright? Should I go fetch a healer?"

But Pariah did not answer his question, "Human nature. I've been bested by human nature." Pariah laughed wryly, "Of all things to conquer, this is by far the most terrible foe of all. I think I understand now. Why they say kingdoms fall not to time but to it's own people. You can make your walls strong as diamond but what good can it do when it's been opened from the inside? I've built a kingdom of peace for my people, for their future, but they do not appreciate it's true worth. I'm tired Clockwork."

The corrosion was already seeping through the rings and on to his palm. It seems his time is up.

"I dream of peace. Farewell my most beloved friend. I shall take my rest now. Please take care of them for me would you? I l-" and he was gone.

Pariah was 22 when he went to sleep.

[adenei]

Untitled (no really, that’s the title)

Hello Romione lovers! 

I’ve been waiting about a month to post this fic. It was written for the 2020 HPRomione Discord Secret Santa Exchange for @gurinpotte​ ! I really enjoyed writing this Shell Cottage fic that explores where Ron and Hermione’s relationship stands. I know it’s not Christmas related, but I hope you enjoy this fic filled with nightmares, pining, angst, and fluff (with a teensy bit of some side hinny as well). I promise the title will make sense once you get to the end!

Please like and reblog/leave kudos on Ao3

Also stay tuned for my Hinny Incognito Elf fic that will be posted soon, too!

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

Hermione assured him she was fine. That he could go take a break. Eat something, have a shower. Get some sleep of his own. Fleur had just given her a new dose of potions, and had changed her bandages, and Luna would be sleeping in the extra bed. So at her insistence, Ron gave her some space when he saw Luna come into the room to settle in for the night. 

He turned back to Hermione, who smiled and gave him a firm, “go,” and he turned to exit the room, swapping places with Luna. But Luna didn’t enter right away. Instead she shut the door and looked at him pensively. 

“You truly care for her, don’t you?” she asked.

“I- yeah,” responded Ron, a bit taken aback.

“She cares for you, too. And I don’t think she really wants you to go, but she’s worried about you just as much as you are for her.”

Ron looked at Luna in confusion. “She doesn’t need to be worried about me. I’m fine, I’m not the one who was tortured,” he said low in his voice.

“No, but you haven’t slept, you’ve barely eaten and no offense, Ron, you do have a smell to you. Hermione probably feels guilty that you’re so focused on taking care of her that you are forgetting about yourself. You will make her feel better if you take some time for you. I’ll keep an eye on her, and if she needs you, I’ll come find you,” Luna told him.

She really was brilliantly insightful, even if she came off as rather aloof much of the time. “Thank you, Luna,” Ron said sincerely. “I’ll be-”

“Downstairs. Now go on, so I can tell Hermione all about the plimpies in the pond near my house.” Luna smiled happily as she turned to enter the room.

Ron found himself wandering into the bathroom first to take a long, hot shower. He didn’t entirely believe Luna when she said he smelled, but just in case. He turned on the faucet, undressed and stepped into the hot water, which admittedly felt good against his skin. Ron began thinking about what Luna said. That Hermione was just as worried about him. She didn’t need to be! He could take care of himself just fine. It was her who needed the attention. 

He’d never admit it, but he was afraid that something would happen and she would relapse into unconsciousness again if he was gone for too long. Plus, he wanted to care for her, show her how much she meant to him. He needed to tell her how he felt. Time was proving much too short, what with his close call running into the snatchers after he’d left, and now their capture and her subsequent torture. The likelihood that they were going to make it out of this alive seemed to become slimmer with each passing day.

Ron turned the water off and stepped out with a new resolve. He’d figure it out. He’d find a way to tell her. Maybe tomorrow, when they both were fresh off of a steady sleep. He couldn’t say good, not when the nightmares of her screams taunted his mind. After he’d toweled off, he’d summoned a fresh outfit, and got dressed. He went downstairs and attempted to eat some more of the leftover supper Fleur had made earlier, and then tidied up so she didn’t have to worry about it.

 Dean and Harry were laying on their respective sleeping bags as Ron grabbed a blanket and flopped onto the sofa. “How’s Hermione doing?” Dean asked.

“She’s okay. Insisted I leave, so here I am,” Ron sulked slightly.

“Everyone likes their space now and then, I reckon,” Dean offered. 

Dean had a point, and maybe Hermione just needed some space. Maybe he was smothering her a bit. Not that he cared. He made a vow that he’d never leave her again, and he wanted to be there for her, especially right now. Ron still felt guilty about his abandonment, even though she told him she’d forgiven him. He figured he’d never make it up to himself for doing that to her, and wasn’t everyone their own worst critic?

Ron looked at Harry, who was laying there quietly, staring at the Marauder’s Map. “Harry…” Ron said slowly.

“I know. It’s just a habit,” he said as he tapped it and put it back in his mokeskin pouch silently. “Are you staying down here, then?” he asked.

Ron felt slightly guilty. He’d been spending so much time at Hermione’s side that he’d neglected his best friend. Sure, he’d gone out for Dobby’s burial, but his mind had been distracted. Hermione hadn’t woken up yet, and he kept looking up at her window, half expecting Fleur to come open it and summon him in. 

“Yeah,” Ron said slowly. “Listen, Harry, I’m sorry I’ve-”

“You don’t need to apologize, Ron. I get it. I’d have done the same thing,” Harry said, giving him a hard look. They didn’t talk much about Ginny, but he knew that’s what Harry meant. “Just, when Hermione is well enough, we should discuss next steps.”

Ron gave Harry a curt nod. “Yeah, alright.” 

Harry then waved his wand to extinguish the lights, which meant he didn’t want to talk anymore. Ron was perfectly fine with that as he rolled over and figured he should at least try and get some sleep. He chanted the same mantra in his head to help him relax. Hermione’s safe now. No one is going to hurt her here. She’s safe upstairs…

Ron wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was awoken to the sounds of blood curdling screams. He wasn’t sure if he was even conscious as he found himself running up the stairs. Luna was on her way down to get him and he almost bowled her over. “What happened,” he said in a panicked voice.

“She’s having a nightmare. I can’t get her to wake up,” Luna called after him since he didn’t bother to stop. 

Ron tore into the small bedroom to find Hermione thrashing wildly in the bed. As soon as he’d broken the barrier of the silencing charm Fleur must have cast seconds ago to keep the rest of the house quiet, Hermione’s shouts of terror and screams hit his ears.

“I don’t know anything! Please, no! I don’t know anything!” More screaming ensued as Ron went over to her. 

Ron let his instinct take over, and sat on the side of the bed. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders to help steady her and stop the wild movement. He began speaking softly to her.

“Hermione, it’s okay. It’s just a nightmare. It’s not real. Not anymore. Please wake up.” Her screaming dulled to a whimper, and he watched her eyes scrunch tighter than before. “Hermione, wake up. It’s alright, you’re alright,” he reassured her until finally he saw her eyes open. 

Ron watched as it took her a moment for her vision to adjust. The look on her face said it all as he helped her sit up. “It was a nightmare, that’s all. She’s not here, she can’t hurt you.” 

Hermione nodded as understanding began to flood her system. She looked around the room and noticed Bill, Fleur and Luna looking on in concern. That’s when the tears started to flow down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I probably woke the entire house up.” She placed her head in her hands.

“Hermione, you don’t need to be sorry,” Bill said immediately. “You just went through a terrible trauma. It’s normal. I’ll admit I had nightmares for a spell after Greyback attacked me. I’d turn into a full on werewolf at the full moon and I didn’t know.” Bill shuddered at the reminiscent thought as Fleur rubbed his back consolingly.

“ ‘Ermione, are you sure I cannot give you dreamless sleep? It eez no trouble,” Fleur offered.

“You didn’t take any tonight?” Ron asked her.

“No. I’m trying to wean off the potions. I don’t want to become reliant on it,” Hermione told him.

“But-”

“No, Ron.” Hermione then looked at Fleur. “I’ll be okay.”’

Fleur nodded reluctantly. “Let us know if you need anyzing,” she said as let herself and Bill out of the room.

“I’m going to go downstairs for a bit,” Luna said, wanting to give Ron and Hermione some privacy. 

Ron was just realizing as Luna shut the door that his arm was still around her shoulders, and she was leaning into his side. “What do you want me to do, Hermione? I’ll stay if you want. I can sleep in the chair again. It’ll be fine. Please let me-”

“Ron, you’re not sleeping in the chair,” Hermione started.

“Fine! The floor then-”

“Will you let me finish?” Hermione interrupted him again. Ron stopped and looked at her. “I want you to stay. I was stupid to think I didn’t need you here.” She turned her head away from him.

“So the floor, then?” Ron asked.

“N-no. I was hoping that you’d...that you’d…” Hermione’s face turned pink at her cheeks.

“Where do you want me, Hermione?” 

“Next to me.” Ron didn’t need her to gesture to the bed to know what she meant.

“Yeah, of course,” he said without thinking. He gently released her as he stood up while Hermione moved over and held back the blankets for him. Ron climbed in, hardly believing that he was about to spend the night in a bed with her. It didn’t even matter that it was only because he wanted to provide some comfort for her if the nightmares started again.

“Thank you,” Hermione said as Ron lifted his arm up and she gladly settled into his side. She felt so right there, almost as if she fit like a perfect puzzle piece. He breathed in the scent of her hair as he committed this very moment to memory. 

You should tell her, he heard his brain murmur. Maybe it would help comfort her to think about something happy. Well, he hoped it would be a happy and welcome thought. He really needed to stop over analyzing things and just go for it.

“Hermione, I’ve been so stupid,” Ron heard his voice say. What the hell was that? That’s how you’re choosing to start your profession of love to her?

And yet, her response surprised him more than he surprised himself. “So have I.”

“I should have been more obvious-”

“Me too,” she agreed.

This was going to be harder than he thought, not that he was complaining about her interjections. But he kept going. “I promise I’m always going to be there from now on. You’ll have to hex me away. I shouldn’t have even left you tonight-”

“I’d never hex you away,” she said. Hermione adjusted her body as she turned on her side to face him. He rolled over to meet her.

“Er, Hermione, I hate to break it to you, but you have done before,” Ron smirked, flashing his famous lopsided grin.

“I won’t anymore, how’s that?” She smiled shyly back at him.

“I suppose that works. Hermione, I’ll- I’ll respect whatever you want, but I need to be honest with you and- I don’t want to waste any more time. I know we’re in the middle of the war, and helping Harry is our main focus, but I can’t let this go any longer without telling you-”

Hermione raised a finger to his lips to stop him. “I don’t either, but Ron….”

Ron kissed her finger as he lifted up his own hand to gently move hers away. “Don’t. Don’t think of all the reasons it’s not the right time. Feels like we’ve done enough of that already.”

“I know…”

Ron could tell Hermione was thinking intently about something. He was holding his breath, waiting for her to go on. Maybe he hadn’t outright said it, but he knew deep down that she understood him, so the quaffle was on her side of the pitch now.

“I want this. I really do,” her eyes were pleading with him. “But I’m scared. Scared of losing this before we’ve even had a chance…”

He knew what she meant. He feared the same thing.  “Me too,” he admitted. Then he had an idea. “So, what if we don’t give it a title. At least not until the war’s over. Y’know, so it doesn’t feel like we’d be losing anything if...if…” Ron couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

Hermione nodded slightly. “O-okay,” she said.

Whether they decided to put a title to it or not, it was clear they were past the point of ‘just friends,’ what with the fact that they were about to fall asleep in the same bed. Without thinking, Ron leaned in and kissed her on her forehead. They lay there quietly for a while before Hermione reluctantly turned over to make herself more comfortable. Ron kept his arms around her as his fingers interlaced with hers. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady sound of Hermione’s breathing as he fell asleep. 

When he woke up again, the sun was shining brightly into the window. For a moment, he forgot where he was. It took a moment to realize he was lying in bed, his arms still wrapped around Hermione, who had shifted at some point in the middle night. Her head was nestled in the crook of his shoulder and her arm was draped around his stomach, her legs tangled with his. He smiled at the sight of her there. He turned to check the watch on the bedside table. It was 8:00. He’d slept through the night. She’d slept through the night. As he adjusted himself to sit up a bit, he must have disturbed her. 

He felt her stretch out, and her eyes opened lazily. It took her a moment to realize he was there. “Morning,” he said, his voice deeper than usual from sleep.

“Morning,” she returned. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” he said. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Y-yeah, actually, I did,” she said surprised.

“So did I.”

Hermione sat up in bed. “So...it appears sleeping together keeps the nightmares away.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Or maybe it’s just a fluke?”

“Maybe.” Hermione pursed her lips as she thought for a moment. And then a smile crossed her lips. “But we should definitely try again tonight to see.”

“That sounds like a brilliant plan,” Ron grinned back at her as he heard Luna call for them on the other side of the door. For the first time in a long while, Ron had something to look forward to.

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

Looking for more great romione SS fics? Check these out and give them a like/reblog, too!

@avatarvader for be11atrixthtestrange

@be11atrixthestrange for smjl

@accio-broom for roy of the ballerina type

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Sixty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Panic attack. Character death. Alcoholism. Drugging(s). Physical trauma. Explosion(s). I think that’s it?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Nonbinary!Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9574

Timeline: Season 8 Episodes 24. Right after part fifty-nine.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

It wasn’t like any other panic attack I ever had. For some reason, the really bad ones only came about when I was really worried about Hotch, like after the bombing in New York when I thought he was literally dying in my arms. This time around, though, I think I was just… paralyzed. I was staring at the wall, the sheets pulled up to my chin, a ringing in my ears, flashing memories of that night back in high school. Those pictures. These pictures. What made The Replicator any different than Steven Teller? A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t connected his name to what had actually happened to me until my parents brought him up at Hotch’s birthday dinner. I would’ve gone my whole life trying to forget his name if they hadn’t said it, if Hotch hadn’t asked about him, and if Garcia hadn’t called to tell us that someone else had pictures of me now.

Who had seen them besides Garcia? Morgan? Spencer? Morgan would’ve understood because he knew about the true nature of the original photos—hell, he was the one who stumbled upon them in Rebecca Bryant’s apartment, so he had even seen them; but I didn’t want it to be Reid. The two of us were so close now since Maeve’s death. If he saw something like that, he would get all awkward around me and our friendship would slowly fall apart, and instead of letting me into his apartment every Sunday now, he would just let Scarlet in again like he originally did.

I didn’t understand who this guy was. How had Garcia been investigating it enough for Hotch to know exactly what she was talking about, yet I was completely out of the loop? Was I the only one who didn’t know? Why didn’t Hotch tell me about this sooner—if I would’ve known that there was someone out there watching us, I would have never gone on this “vacation”, and I would have made sure that we weren’t being followed, I would’ve closed the fucking drapes. The drapes.

Hotch pushed himself out of bed and ran to the window. “We need to make sure everyone’s safe,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hotch, who is The Replicator…” I croaked.

“He might have gone after the others.”

“Hotch, answer me!”

“Later.”

“He has pictures of us, Aaron…” I croaked as he closed the drapes.

We had left them open because we were so high up, and the lights were off, and the surrounding buildings shouldn’t’ve had a good view into our room. Closing the drapes just didn’t occur to us earlier. But now that we knew he had been watching, we weren’t taking a chance. Not that it mattered. He had already seen everything. From Hotch slowly undressing me, to tying me up, spanking me, torturing me… fucking me. That asshole got a free show, and then he had the audacity to send those images to our friends. Poor Penelope. She was probably mortified. Between getting hacked and having to see literal porn of her co-worker and her boss, she was likely having a meltdown. Yet, all I could think about was how this all reminded me of high school—of the images that boy took of me then used as blackmail against me. It was eerily similar. I absolutely fucking hated it.

“Call everyone, Y/N. Call them now.”

We both raced for our phones. Hotch called Rossi while I started with Reid. I was biting at my fingers nervously as the phone rang, because every second that passed without hearing his voice just somehow convinced me that something was wrong. And then he picked up. I let out a sigh of relief and hid my face in my free hand.

“Y/N?” He had no clue what was going on. “Y/N, what is it?”

I hated that he was getting as good at recognizing my tells as Morgan was. “Where are you?”

“I’m with Morgan. We’re driving back from getting some food. Did you know that you can get sauerkraut on hotdogs? It’s such an odd concoction, considering the hotdog was invented—”

“Spencer, something happened.”

He stopped. “What?”

“You and Morgan need to get back to the Field Office immediately. Don’t stop anywhere, don’t talk to anyone, keep your heads down. Got it?”

“Y/N, what is it? Why—”

“I don’t know… Hotch isn’t telling me right now, but he says he’ll explain everything once we’re all together.”

“Okay. We’ll see you there.” I looked at Hotch as I hung up and he came back into the bedroom, dressed in a button down and slacks again so that it could pass as business formal, considering we hadn’t brought actual work clothes. “Where’s Rossi?”

“He’s with JJ. They can’t get ahold of Strauss, so JJ’s going to head to the Field Office to meet up with Spencer and Morgan while Rossi goes to check on Strauss at her hotel. We need to get dressed and go.”

“Stop,” I demanded harshly. Hotch froze in place. “You need to tell me the truth now. Who is The Replicator?” He was still frozen. “Hotch,” I crawled onto my knees, “he went after our babies, and he took pornographic pictures of us. I have every right to know before the team does.”

Hotch sighed and sat down on the corner of the bed as he explained everything to me. A couple of months ago, something peculiar started happening. Someone was replicating the cases that we were solving—everything from the human marionettes to an Unsub who had exsanguinated his victims. Strauss didn’t want the team to get involved yet, though, so it was a need-to-know case only. I wasn’t on the list. Every time it happened. Strauss found out and told Hotch. The two of them had been keeping an eye on it, and he was convinced that she was going to turn the case over to us soon, but now he was coming after us personally, which was so… unexpected to him.

Rossi called back while Hotch was telling me everything. Hotch rubbed a thumb over the arch of my foot as he answered. “You’re sure?” he asked worriedly. “Alright. Okay. We’re on our way.” He hung up. “Rossi’s convinced that something happened to Strauss… He thinks that The Replicator might have taken her.”

“Fucking hell, Aaron!” I jumped out of bed and ran to change into different clothes. The only thing I had that was “appropriate” was a v-neck and jeans. So much for our vacation. “We should’ve known about this earlier!” I exclaimed, jumping into my pants. “It’s just another lie—”

“Jesus, Y/N! Stop with the hounding about the lies! Get off my back! This was an order, not a lie!”

Actually, he was right about that one. “Fine…” I grabbed my credentials, my weapon, and my bag before joining Hotch at the door. “You’re right.” I kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry.” He closed the door behind us, and we ran off.

In the car, Hotch and I held hands, both of us shaking anxiously. His thumb was doing circles around one of my knuckles while he kept his other hand busy on the steering wheel, tapping to a random beat in his head that he was using as a distraction. He clearly didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t expected that The Replicator would go for us personally—though, if he had come to me with this case before this, I would have told him that this was going to happen, and we could have prevented it.

If I would have known that this guy existed in the first place, Hotch would’ve had to drag me out of the house and to work just to leave Jack and Scarlet. I wouldn’t have sent them to school, I wouldn’t have left them to go on vacation, and I wouldn’t have let them go to the fucking park while we were gone just to give the creep an opportunity to take pictures of them. He could fuck with us all he wanted. Those pictures hurt, and the situation was still spinning in my mind to the point I wanted to throw up; but at least we were adults who could handle it. Jack and Scarlet were still just my little babies. It didn’t matter how big they were getting, they were always going to be my babies, and no one ever fucked with them.

Hotch kissed my knuckles as we parked at the hotel. He paused for a moment, turning to look at me, cradling my cheek in his other palm. “I’m sorry. If Strauss didn’t order me to keep this confidential, you would have been the first person I told. You have to believe that.”

“I do.”

“Are you okay now… knowing what we know about tonight…”

I shook my head. “No, but it’s not the point.” I escaped his touch so that I could open my car door and jump out. Hotch followed shortly, deciding to drop the conversation.

The second we stepped into the hotel room where Strauss was supposed to be staying, we saw Rossi pacing around, completely stressed out, running his hands through his hair while muttering thoughts under his breath. I glanced around. The window was open, the bed was a wreck, there was broken glass on the ground, drawers were left open, the bathroom looked like a tornado had torn through it, but what was most obvious were the mini alcohol bottles from the mini fridge that were scattered everywhere. I thought she quit drinking. There was a situation a little bit ago shortly after The Face Cards when I was still bedridden where Hotch and Rossi found out that she was an alcoholic and decided to get her some help.

“Her one year chip is here,” Rossi said, holding it up for us to see. “She never lets go of it, Hotch. Ever. The Replicator must have her.” So, everyone seemed to know about this guy besides me, I supposed? What the fuck? “I’m going to check the roof.” Rossi was already moving for the fire escape.

“Be safe. We’ll head down to the lobby to look at the security footage,” Hotch said. I wanted to go with Rossi to give him back up, but I realized that Hotch didn’t want me to stray far from him after what happened. So, I followed him out of the room, and we started hurrying towards the inside stairwell just to see if she had wandered down there somehow. Hotch’s phone started ringing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Straus…” He cocked a brow while answering. “Erin?” He stopped in his tracks when he heard the other end, making me stumble to a halt. “Where is she, you bastard.” He started running as fast as he could through the hallways, leaving me behind.

“Aaron! No!” I yelled, trying to run after him.

“Stay here! I love you!”

Those words echoed in my head as déjà vu overtook my senses. Hotch had said the exact same thing to me after we found Sam dying on his carpet, and Hotch went to the hospital with him. The panic that hadn’t settled in earlier was certainly settling in now. I could remember how Hotch said those exact same words to me as he closed the ambulance doors, and a few moments later, I collapsed on the sidewalk, unable to hear anything, unable to move, unable to breathe until I heard his voice again. He went on his own this time, though—No.

I started dashing to follow him, even though he had enough of a head start to already be out of the building. The Replicator had talked to Hotch. He had called from Strauss’s phone, which was the perfect way to lure Hotch out of the hotel, and it worked, which meant that if he had a plan, he was going to go after Hotch next. I started skipping steps in the stairwell. Not him. Not now. Aaron Hotchner was all kinds of stupid, but I wasn’t going to let this stupid decision get him killed while I froze up in a fucking hallway. I couldn’t live with that regret if that were the case.

When I pushed through the front doors of the hotel, I started looking up and down the street in search of Hotch. He had to be around somewhere. He got a head start, sure, but not enough to disappear into the night unless someone took him. He had to be close. I refused to believe that he was anywhere other than on that block, safe, alive, and waiting for me to find him. So, I just kept looking. I spun around in circles, jumping to look over the crowd, pushing between couples just to see if Hotch was hiding somewhere. I felt like I was going insane.

And then I saw him on a bench. I recognized his hair, how dark it was, how he liked to keep it short in the back but long in his face so that I could play with it when I was bored or during sex. I recognized him because of his body type. The shirt he had put on back at the penthouse was a simple button up, but it was fit to his body so well that when he was sitting down like that, I could see his biceps stretching the sleeves, and the actual torso part of the shirt had molded against his loose abs. I would recognize my husband anywhere. Even while his face was away from me, and he had someone in his arms, I could still tell that it was him. He looked okay… at least from where I was standing. I couldn’t tell for sure, though, so I dared to run across the street and hurry over to the bench. I could tell for sure now. He was alright, but he was holding Strauss in his arms, despite the fact that she wasn’t breathing anymore.

“Aaron…” I carefully peeled his grip off of her. “Aaron, it’s okay…”

As I kneeled down in front of Hotch, I recognized the lost fright in his eyes from the bombing four years ago, and from the murder of Haley a little under that, then my kidnapping two years ago. Whenever he was panicked, whenever there was too much going on at once, his eyes got lost in the world, like he couldn’t see anything at all, yet could somehow still see everything. It was hard to explain, but the way his jaw slacked, and the way his breath was shallow, and his body was unnaturally still… It all pointed to that instinct that overtook him every time something bad like this happened.

I put my hands on his face to bring his eyes level with mine. We had been through this before, we learned how to handle it, now all he had to do was focus on me and we would be fine. He told me that feeling my touch, hearing my voice, seeing my face, it always brought him down to Earth when this happened. So, I held him close, I kissed his forehead, and I whispered to him that everything would be alright.

“He talked about Foyet,” he finally told me.

I stopped comforting him for a moment to reflect on what he just said. “What?”

“He…” He lowered his head. “He talked about how Foyet killed Haley… That I was stuck on the phone, incapable of doing anything that could help.”

“How could he know that?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head against my touch.

“Look at me, baby.” I lifted his head gently. “We’ll figure this out. I promise. Just breathe.”

“He said he’s going to race us home—”

“Shhh…”

“The kids—”

“They’re at the office. They’re safe. Please. Catch your breath with me.” I inhaled slowly, letting him know that I wanted him to mimic me. I nodded an encouragement when he started doing so, and then when we couldn’t breathe in anymore, we held it, then slowly exhaled. He was relaxing in my touch already. We did it again. “You’re doing good, baby. Keep going.”

Footsteps hit the pavement behind us. I turned somewhat, just long enough to see that it was Rossi. He froze when he saw Strauss beside Hotch. As he collapsed and pulled Erin in for a hug, I helped Hotch to his feet, pulling him away so he could collect his thoughts again.

“Don’t stop breathing, baby,” I begged, pressing my forehead against his.

“Foyet—”

“Foyet’s gone. You’re here. I’m here. The kids are safe at the office. Just breathe.”

When the EMTs arrived, they put a sheet over Strauss’s body, lifted her onto a stretcher, then rolled her into the ambulance. Rossi was quiet while he followed them. With Hotch still somewhat out of it—not as bas bad as before, but still— I was the one who nodded in his direction, letting him know that it was okay to go with her. We would see him later.

At the Field Office, Hotch was finally relaxed and level-headed enough to explain to the team what was going on and what we were going to do now. We were going to get on the jet, head back to the office, and take down whoever the hell this Replicator guy was. Everyone seemed on board, but there were a lot of questions about when Rossi would be rejoining us. Honestly, we weren’t sure. He was flying with Strauss to Bethesda to talk with her children and stick around for the autopsy, which we would have by the time we would land in Virginia and get settled back at the office. He would probably return after that… if at all. What we needed to focus on was just getting the profile done and making sure that Strauss’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

When we got back to Quantico, I ran straight into Hotch’s office, finding Jack dead asleep on the couch, buried under a blanket that Hotch always had stowed away in case we had to sleep at the office, too. As for Scarlet, though, she was still awake. Jessica was sitting in Hotch’s chair at his desk, and Scarlet was sitting across from her, playing with some toys. She spotted me almost immediately, though.

“Mom!” She slid off the chair and ran to me.

“Hey, lil’ bug!” I exclaimed, lifting her into my arms. I kissed her a thousand times. “I love you so much!” I kept kissing her. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“She’s been fussy without you guys,” Jessica said.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her. I brushed Scarlet’s hair out of her face. “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story before Dad and I have to go save the world again?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and pressed her cheek against my chest while still hugging my neck.

I sat down in one of the chairs across from Hotch’s seat and relaxed. While telling her the story, I thought about how relieved I was to have her in my arms again. The Replicator had a thousand chances to take her or Jack from me, especially while Hotch and I were gone. Hell, he got close enough to take pictures. If he really wanted to hurt us, he could have stolen my lil’ bug away. If that happened, I wasn’t sure if I’d survive.

By the time the story was over, she had magically fallen asleep in my arms. I smiled and kissed her hair. As I got up to lay her down on the couch with Jack, he rolled over and started snoring, making me and Jessica chuckle quietly, but I had to shush her.

When Scarlet was done, I looked at Jess. “I’m so sorry that this keeps happening to us.”

She shook her head. “As long as everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” She stepped forward and hugged me tightly. “Are you guys okay?”

“Not right now, but we will be.”

“You’ll get an actual vacation weekend soon.”

I laughed. “$20 says it doesn’t happen.”

She pulled away from me to shake my hand. “Deal.”

There was a knock on the door from Hotch, coming to tell us that Strauss’ autopsy had been completed. His gaze flicked to the kids, and he hesitated for a moment. They were asleep, but I could tell that he wanted to wake them up and just feel the way they would give him a Superman hug at the same time until he couldn’t breathe. But he restrained himself. He carefully stepped into the room and crouched down in front of the couch, kissing Scarlet’s forehead, then Jack’s. He stayed with them for a second longer, just admiring how perfect and innocent they were. My heart broke in my chest a bit, a smile creeping onto my face, and I reached forward to brush Hotch’s hair out of his face.

“We should go, baby,” I whispered to him. He nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “They’ll be alright. I promise.” He kissed me gently while keeping my head tilted up with his thumb. When he pulled back, we pressed our foreheads together. “Your messes are my messes.”

“Your messes are my messes.” He kissed me again quickly before taking my hand and leading me out of his office, waving goodbye to Jessica. She waved back to us while sitting back down to play a game on her phone. When we walked into the boardroom, we saw that Garcia was finishing up with hanging all the evidence we had of The Replicator. “Garcia, is this everything?” Hotch let go of my hand to cross his arms over his chest.

She nodded. “JJ’s grabbing the printed copy photos from Strauss’s autopsy, but this is everything else… except for you and Y/N… You know…”

“Thanks.”

“So, while you guys were on the jet, I started digging into why he would have possibly attacked Strauss and on this day, considering he would’ve had a thousand other chances to do it if he really does work for the FBI, but I couldn’t find anything in her life that was historically relevant.”

“We need to focus on the location, then. He waited until she was in New York, rather than attacking her here or at her home.”

“Look at how many photos he had of her, guys,” Morgan pointed out, referencing the dozens of pictures of our team up on the wall. I knew that he had taken pictures of me and Hotch in bed, but I didn’t think that he had really been stalking the entire team all this time. “She’s hardly ever in the field, yet there’s more pictures of her than anyone else. It’s like he’s obsessed with her.”

“Maybe Strauss was always the real target. We were just in the way, and also a distraction.”

“I’ve got the rest of the photos,” JJ said, holding the stack up for us before heading to the board to pin them up. “We were right, he replicated the New York attacks, which accelerated his timeline. He spiked Strauss’s alcohol with meth and heroin.”

“Not ecstasy?” I asked.

“Nope.” She hung up a picture of a symbol that had been carved into Strauss’s wrist antemortem.

“Wait—” I stepped forward, halting her actions. “What is that?”

“An infinity sign?” Garcia guessed.

“An eight? Wasn’t she his eighth victim?” Morgan added.

“But why would he do that? His whole M.O. is copying our other cases as closely as possible to prove that he’s been stalking us. He wouldn’t deviate just to make things interesting now,” I said.

“He would if Strauss was his intended target.”

“It’s too random. Everything this guy has done thus far has been strategic and with the point of getting under our skin. This doesn’t affect us personally in any way, unlike the photos and him mentioning Foyet on the phone,” Hotch said.

“Wait. He knew about Foyet?” JJ questioned. “How? That was a confidential case. No one outside of our unit and SWAT knew the intricate details of what happened to Haley.”

“But the file has enough general information. He had to have accessed it somehow,” I said.

“Maybe when he hacked Garcia?”

“It’s a paper file. Cody made sure it didn’t make its way into any system to ensure that no one could get their hands on it outside of the FBI, which means… Technically, anyone working for at Quantico could know.” What was he saying? “The only people who knew where Y/N and I were this weekend before the hack was the BAU and Cody’s office. The only problem here is that Strauss wasn’t sure that she recognized him. If he works for the FBI—”

“He might not have been showing his face to her—and even if he was, she was probably too out of it to actually recognize him,” Reid said. “Besides that, there are hundreds of new and old faces every day at Quantico. Strauss was a busy woman. She might not’ve remembered him.”

I shook my head. “Let’s say that he does work in the FBI, that explains how he knows about all of our cases with so much detail. He replicates everything, we can’t forget that. So, what the hell is the symbol on her wrist replicating?”

“The Cutter,” Hotch realized. We all looked at him, giving him our full attention. “The last case we worked before this weekend.”

We had been in Detroit for nine days, tracking down an Unsub who liked leaving Joker-like smiles on his victims’ faces by cutting them up. Sometimes he got fancy with it, taking their tongues, cutting a toe or a finger off, but he always cut the mouths. There was nothing about carving symbols into the victims. No eights, infinities, whatever. So, why did Hotch think that this had anything to do with that?

“I need to see her computer.” Hotch turned to snap at someone outside the room. “Anderson, I need you to run to Strauss’s office and bring me her computer, please. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Anderson did as he was told, literally racing to the office just past the bullpen, though the door, down the hallway, and to the right. We waited patiently for him to come back. “Here you go,” he said, panting, handing the laptop over.

“Thanks, Anderson.”

“No problem, sir.” He took his leave from the room again.

Hotch passed the computer over to Garcia, who was sitting down and wiggling her fingers to warm up before she would start typing up a storm in order to hack in. Hotch watch from over her shoulder. “I need you to access who was on the distribution list for my case report for The Cutter.”

“You don’t know who reads your reports?” she questioned, already typing.

“I know that she sends them to the head of the Criminal Division and the Director, but I don’t know who else has access to it.”

“It’s right here.”

Hotch leaned in further to read because the words were too small for him. I was going to have to drag him to the eye doctor soon. Just because I always joked that he was getting old didn’t mean that I didn’t actually worry about him; and something that I had been noticing recently was that he was struggling to read things as well as he used to. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he needed reading glasses now. Not that he would ever wear them. Aaron Hotchner would rather die than ever admit that he wasn’t physically fit to be in the field or to work on reports when we were at home.

“She amended my report,” he said. We all grew curious. “She wrote that he carved infinity symbols into his victims’ wrists.” He stood up tall to address us, “She trapped him to make sure that we would know that he was an insider. Garcia, who else read this?”

“Two other people so far. The Director and— Uh oh.”

“Uh oh? Again?” I scratched my fingers through my hair, really annoyed with how she wasn’t just spitting it out. The other day, she pulled the same shit. Uh oh. I loved her to death, but sometimes she needed to just say it rather than dragging it out.

“You remember the Senator that investigated the BAU after Doyle?

Okay. That was an uh oh. Fuck.

“I’ll talk to him. You all need to stay here, stay together, don’t talk about this outside of this room. No one else can know about this.” Hotch hurried out of the room and B-lined straight for his office to grab one of his suits from his go-bag in his office. I followed him. “Hey, Jess, I need to change real quick,” he said as we walked in. “Can you give us a sec?”

“Of course.” She immediately stood and went to stand outside the office.

I closed the blinds while he quietly picked up his bag, carefully pulled at the zipper, cringing at how loud it was, and pulled his clothes out, all without waking up the kids. It was funny that he thought that they would jolt awake. The two of them were freaking corpses when it came to sleeping. Back when Scarlet was a baby, she was the worst about staying asleep, but now she could sleep all day and all night without a single issue. As for Jack, he struggled to fall asleep sometimes because of his nightmares, but once he was asleep, he was out until morning. They got it from their dad.

“You’ll stay here with them until I get back?” he asked me, peeling off his shirt. I nodded. “Henry’s just down the hall in JJ’s old office with Will. If Jack wakes up soon, he can probably go hang out in there while Jess keeps an eye on Scarlet in here.” He kicked off his pants, then picked up his button up and slid his arms into the sleeves. I helped put it together nicely while he focused on sliding his suit pants on. “I’ll ask Anderson to get everyone donuts from Leonard’s for breakfast. The kids’ll be happy about that.”

“Aaron,” I whispered, fitting his tie around his neck for him, “are you okay after last night?”

“I will be after all of this and once the two of us can sit down and talk about it.”

I flattened his collar around the tie, then stepped back so that he could put his suit jacket on. At least he wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t going to keep it bottled up this time and have me wondering if he was really alright or if he was just lying to me again. I was really fucking sick and tired of him lying to me. I mean, he had been really good about it since the Piano Man case over a year and a half ago.

He kissed me as he holstered his weapon and clipped his badge onto his jacket. “I love you. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I love you.” I cupped my hands on his cheeks before kissing him. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” We pressed our foreheads together, both of us letting out a relaxed exhale. “Come back to me.”

“I’m just going—”

“Promise me.”

Hotch snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me as close to his chest as humanly possible, our foreheads still pressed together as he towered over me. His fingers sprawled on my back. “I promise.” He rubbed his hands smoothly up and down my back for a bit. “And I promise that we’re going to talk about Strauss, about the pictures, about having another weekend where we can do things the right way.” His hands turned to fists around the fabric of my shirt. “I promise that I’m not going to let this guy take away anything else from us.”

We kissed again, our lips barely meeting because if it was anything more than that, we would have passionately, desperately kissed one another until we were breathless and forgot about the world around us, which wasn’t ideal. We needed to stay focused. Hotch needed to find the Senator, talk to him about still keeping an eye on our unit, even after they cleared us after Doyle, and then we needed to find out who the hell The Replicator was. We could forget about life later.

“I love you, Y/N Hotchner, more than life itself.”

I melted in his arms a bit, grabbing onto his suit jacket to maintain my balance. “When you say shit like that, I don’t know what to do with myself.” We both chuckled quietly. Jack suddenly stared snoring on the couch, making us both laugh again. “He’s so like you, it’s stupid.” Hotch’s smile faded, but he tried to mask it by kissing my cheek, then hiding his face in the crook of my neck. “Go save the world, Agent Hotchner.” I begged, prying him off of me before we could stay glued like that for the rest of our lives. I combed my fingers through his hair to make sure he looked nice for the Senator. “We’ll be here.”

Hotch’s hands left my back, making me ache silently for his touch again, which he somehow recognized, because he immediately held my hand in his as he started walking around me and stepped towards the door. I didn’t move. Our arms continued to stretch towards each other, fingers intertwining in an attempt to stay with each other for a little longer, but once he was out of reach, there was nothing we could do. He opened the door, turned to look at the kids once more, then left. I sighed and slumped into a chair.

Jessica carefully peeked in, wondering if it was safe to return. When she saw me sitting there, flustered and silent, she stepped in and closed the door behind her. I half expected that she would return to Hotch’s seat. It was, after all, the most comfortable seat in the room, and I knew it, considering it was my desk for a little while. But Jessica sat down next to me and took my hand in hers without saying anything. Nothing needed to be said. We just stayed there, watching the kids as they slept, waiting for Hotch to come back with answers.

----

Around the time Hotch returned, Rossi was walking in, too. We all spotted him, but no one said anything to him or approached him. We all just decided to meet in the boardroom while waiting for Hotch to get his things organized and make an attempt to talk to Rossi, which he was immediately denied. He looked to the boardroom, begging one of us to try again, but we all stared at each other, asking ourselves who dared to do it.

“I’m gonna go check on Rossi.” Morgan said to the group. We all nodded understandingly.

When he left, Hotch traded places with him, coming into the roundtable room with a stack of papers. “This is everyone who has read my reports over the past two years.” He dropped the heavy stack on the table. “There’s thirty-six people.” My jaw fell. We were going to have to profile thirty-six different people on a time crunch, which was near to impossible, even with all six of us, plus Garcia, working on it. That was still about six people per team member. How the fuck were we supposed to profile all that?

“Woah! Rossi! What’re you doing, man?! Put the gun down!” Morgan shouted.

My brows furrowed for a second as I stepped closer to the windows of the room to look across the bullpen and into Rossi’s office. There was Morgan, standing in the doorway, and in front of him, Rossi was pointing a gun at him. I dropped my papers and ran. When I was close enough, I slowed down to be casual. I didn’t want to spook him.

“Dave,” I croaked, stepping into his office. My hands were sprawled out in front of me, ready to swing for the gun if he moved for the trigger. “What’s this about?”

“Morgan’s fingerprints were on the glass that killed Strauss,” he answered.

“What?” Morgan questioned, scoffing.

I took another careful step forward in front of Morgan. There was no way he was going to shoot me. “Dave, someone on the inside is The Replicator, they’re probably the one who told you that—”

“It was in her report that was on my desk!” he yelled. The gun was shaking in his hands as his nose started to bleed the same way Strauss’s had been. He had been drugged, too.

I looked over at the page on the ground that was supposedly the official report he had just been reading. “You’ve been drugged, Rossi.” I was still walking towards him, despite Morgan’s quiet protests behind me. “He wants us to turn on each other. If you pull that trigger right now, you shoot me, you lose Hotch, you lose Reid, you lose Morgan, and you lose JJ. Is that what you want? Do you want him to win after everything? After Strauss?” I was close enough to reach for the gun. “Don’t shoot me. Just let me… Let me help you…” I started slowly going for it. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you help, and you’re going to be just fine.” I had a grip on the gun, and I managed to finally pry it away from him.

Morgan let out a heavy sigh of relief behind me. “I’ll call the paramedics.”

Hotch finally came rushing in, now that the coast was clear and the tension had been diffused. If he had come in any sooner, Rossi might have been spooked and shot me, even if he didn’t want to, but just because of how the drugs fucked with him. He immediately came over to check on Rossi. We helped him onto the couch in his office, and Hotch didn’t hesitate to ask if Rossi had taken anything, drank anything, bumped into anyone. All he told us was that he had picked up Strauss’s report, and that was when he started feeling like shit.

“That was stupid of you,” Hotch whispered to me while slapping Rossi’s cheeks to keep him awake. “The kids are in the next room, how could you—”

“The kids!” I pushed myself up to my feet using Hotch’s shoulder and ran straight to his office. If Rossi had been poisoned through the paper, that meant that the Unsub must have dropped it off, or else security would have caught it. The Unsub was in his office. He walked right past our family. He could have done something to them. “Scarlet—” I turned into the room to see her and Jack watching a movie together on a tablet. I stopped in my tracks for a second as they looked up at me with raised brows. “Did anyone come in here?” I asked Jessica. She shook her head, eyeing me suspiciously.

He didn’t go for them. He said something to Hotch on the phone last night about how he was going to race us home, and Hotch was worried about the kids, which was why we brought them to the office, thinking that they would be safe, but the Unsub had them right there, and he went right past them, and he didn’t—

“Mom?” Jack questioned me. “Are you okay?’

I nodded and faked a smile. “Of course, little man. I was just checking on you guys…” I cleared my throat. “Did you, um… Did you get a donut yet?”

“He had two,” Jessica answered.

“And what about you, Scarlet?”

“I had two, too!” She laughed at herself. “Tutu.”

I smiled casually at them before turning and hurrying right back out of the office, letting out a shaky breath. The office was supposed to be safe. What if Scarlet or Jack had run into the Unsub? What if they had touched the paper Rossi touched just because they wanted to see what the superheroes were up to? I let out another breath, this time trying to calm my nerves as I saw the medics run into Rossi’s and start caring for him.

“We found something,” Reid said quietly, sneaking up on me, even though he hadn’t meant to.

I looked at him suddenly. “What?” I really hadn’t heard him. I had been so lost in thought that I knew he said something important, but I really couldn’t register what it was. “I’m sorry.”

“We found something.”

“Something good?”

“We found the Unsub.”

“Is he still here?” I asked eagerly, already walking with him along the balcony towards the boardroom again. He shook his head. “What do we know?” I asked everyone else when we entered.

“Is Rossi okay?” Garcia asked before she felt like answering me. I nodded to her while taking a seat, now waiting for her to tell me something. She caught the hint. “So, instead of profiling all thirty-six people who had read Hotch’s reports, we instead chose to connect anyone to New York since we noted that might be important to him if he chose to kill Strauss there.” Okay, so… “There were two agents at Quantico. One died last March, but the other… John Curtis… He worked under Strauss during the Amerithrax case in 2001 since he specialized with biochemistry. It seems like he was really hoping to move through the ranks at Quantico, according to letters he wrote to the Director after he was unfortunately demoted to go work in Kansas City.”

“How’d he make his way here, then?”

“After fifteen letters to the Director’s office, he was finally promoted to work in his office.”

That explained how his clearance was high enough for him to get into the building and into the BAU specifically without being detected. If we were to take the cars downstairs, he probably would’ve been prepared that something would go awry with them to prevent us from chasing him down this time around, so it was agreed that we were going to take the helicopters up on the roof. They were faster, more convenient, and unexpected. Curtis probably had no idea that the BAU even had access to the helicopters. They were our best bet. So, we all geared up and started running upstairs, assigning seats in the two vehicles. Hotch, JJ, and I were going to be in the first one, meanwhile Morgan and Reid would be in the other.

As we were flying through the air, speeding towards Curtis’s farmhouse out in rural Virginia, Garcia was in contact with Hotch, Morgan, and SWAT, discussing the layout of the farm so that we could perform a tactical breech with minimal losses. JJ and I were sitting together in the back, though, just staring out our respective windows. I was counting the minutes until we would land. Even after all this time, I still fucking hated flying, but at least when we were on the jet, that was familiar, so I could feel safe there, but now we were in a helicopter, which was unchartered territory for me, and I was terrified. The height wasn’t the problem… It was the fact that we could crash at any minute, and that would be it. Our fate was practically out of our hands.

It was like karma could hear me, because the next thing I knew, alarms were going off in front of the pilot, and we were dropping in the air. I cursed under my breath and held on for dear life. Through the headsets we were wearing, I could hear the pilot saying something about how auto-pilot was failing, and that something was preventing him from turning it back on. I squeezed my eyes shut as we kept falling. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hated flying, and this was exactly why.

“Brace for impact!”

And then we hit the ground.

I weakly opened my eyes, blinking harshly to try and wash away the fog while also trying to adjust to the darkness. We didn’t die.

“Are you guys alright?!” Morgan asked as he pried Hotch’s door open.

Hotch fell sideways out of his seat in the helicopter, crashing to his knees before Morgan could catch him. I groaned, holding my head, trying to make the spinning stop. My fucking back hurt like a bitch, too—not as bad as when I first injured it at the bank during The Face Cards’ bombing, but certainly getting there. I whimpered when it hurt to move.

“Y/N…” Hotch groaned, carefully crawling his way over with Morgan’s help. “Y/N…” He reached around and unbuckled me from my seat. I coughed; my lungs too weak to maintain a normal breathing pattern. “Baby…”

I weakly wrapped my arms around his neck and attempted to pull him close. “Are you okay?” I opened my eyes as the world stopped spinning. Hotch nodded. “Where’s JJ?”

“I don’t know.” We stumbled onto the grass together. “Are you alright?”

I rested my forehead against his shoulder. “My back…” I croaked.

“It’s hurting again?”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine, though.”

“You said that last time—”

“But I mean it now. Why didn’t he kill us?”

“What?”

I cleared my throat and stood up straight, trying to shake off the ache in my back. “Why didn’t he kill us? I felt it at the end, something controlled the helicopter enough to have us land somewhat carefully, but then he took JJ… Why?”

“To give himself a bargaining chip?”

“Maybe…”

“Hey—” Reid called, running over to us. Just as I looked at him, he crashed into my arms, pulling me in for a hug. I ignored how it hurt my back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He took JJ.”

“What?” He pulled away so that he could go check the helicopter for himself. Just as he was inspecting it, a few black SUVs pulled up to take us the rest of the way. Maybe we should have just started with that.

Hotch helped me to the car, Morgan and Reid following close behind. Usually, Hotch would have sat in the front, leaving me in the back, but this time around, he sat with me, squeezing my hand as tightly as he could. I think that we had been through too much over the past few days. It was finally taking its toll. What we thought was going to be a normal getaway turned into working two cases—one where Hotch had to deal with his brother, then he had to deal with a thousand personal things. Pornographic photos, Strauss, Foyet being mentioned, the kids, meeting with the Senator—There were a thousand more things I could have possibly listed, but nearly dying in a helicopter crash… yeah, that was the cherry on top. He had been in the front seat with the pilot. I was in the back with JJ. When we were going down, I wanted nothing more than to hold him again, to look into his eyes, but I couldn’t because I was just behind him. Then, The Replicator could have taken me, but he didn’t. Hotch had risked too many things by not sitting in the back with me, but he wasn’t going to risk that now, the same way I wasn’t going to let him risk it either.

When we arrived at the house, SWAT was there, waiting on us, and for the call that Hotch wanted to make. Without hesitating, he said that we should breach the farmhouse up ahead. So, SWAT led the way, the team following close behind. We started by surrounding the entire thing. When everyone was in place, Hotch gave his mark on the comms, and then we all stormed in with our weapons raised. My back hurt like a bitch as I navigated my way through every room with Morgan, but I put on a brave face and tried to focus on just not getting shot or something. That was probably worse than hurting my back.

When we found nothing on the main or upper floor, Morgan and I moved towards the basement door. He grabbed the handle and I nodded, gesturing for him to go. We hurried down the steps. The basement was a red room for photography so that he could print out whatever pictures he took of us. Morgan and I spotted all of the photos of me and Hotch in bed because they were hanging up on a line to dry. Morgan quickly looked away out of respect.

“Anything?” Hotch asked in a whisper, scaring the shit out of me and Morgan since we weren’t expecting him to be there. When we caught our breaths, we shook our heads. “There’s another room over there.” He pointed with his flashlight.

Hotch led the way, Reid and I shoulder to shoulder, Morgan following behind us. The door was open, so Hotch lunged into the room, hoping to get a jump on Curtis if he happened to be around the corner, but he wasn’t. When we were all inside, we saw JJ sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, chained to it, her mouth gagged with a cloth napkin, of all things. Reid quickly holstered his weapon and hurried to help her.

“Morgan, we should go find him,” Hotch said. “Y/N and Reid can handle this.”

I knelt down on the ground beside Reid to help him get JJ free as the boys ran back out of the room. I peeled the napkin out of JJ’s mouth. “You okay?”

“He said that there’s eight locks because there used to be eight of us before he killed Strauss,” she said urgently.

“That’s all he said?”

She nodded.

Reid picked up a carabiner of keys laying on the ground next to the pile of locks. He sifted through them, only counting six, but each of them had a letter taped on. I inspected the locks themselves, spotting that they had numbers on them. Somehow, the letter and the numbers correlated.

“What are the letters?” I asked.

“G,” he began. That was the seventh letter in the alphabet. “A.” That was the first. “N.” That was fourteenth. “Z— Zugzwang.”

I froze and looked at him. Zugzwang? As in what Diane said to him over the phone when she first took Maeve? How would Curtis know that—Why would he use that? I mean, Zugzwang itself meant the point in the game when the player(s) had to decide if they wanted to forfeit or play until the bitter end, so in the context of the keys and the locks, what did that mean for JJ?

“It’s too easy,” I muttered under my breath, but he was already going for it.

Hotch and Morgan were already running back in, which meant that they probably hadn’t found Curtis. Great. So, now we were playing a risky game that had an uncertain end, and our Unsub likely got away. Well, fuck.

“The whole place is lined with C-4,” Morgan warned us. They were watching as Reid kept unlocking JJ’s chains. “We have about three minutes.”

“We’ll be gone by then,” Reid insisted. Unless this really was too easy, I suspected it was.

Then, it dawned on me. Reid the other week, when Scarlet and I were at his house, was trying to teach her some of the “basics” of chess, which in his mind was everything from how to move the pieces to how to win in less than three moves. He forgot sometimes that she was only two. She was smart, but she wasn’t as smart as he was, though he sometimes wished that were the case. But there was something he said about Zugzwang. The best thing to do in that situation was to do nothing at all. To not forfeit, to not play, but to just… wait.

“Don’t move—” I tried warning JJ, but the second the chains were off her hands, she stood up.

Suddenly, we could all see the pressure plate that she had been sitting on the whole time. Everyone’s eyes widened as we froze, waiting to see if something would happen, like the bomb potentially going off randomly. Nothing happened for a second. We all relaxed, but it came too early, because the door suddenly closed behind us.

Our three minutes were running out.

With our exit blocked, we called Garcia quickly, hoping that she would be able to do something about the bomb’s detonation, or perhaps getting the door open, if she could. I didn’t have high hopes. I was just staring at Hotch as he desperately tried to get the door open. After Haley, we promised the kids—well, technically just Jack—that nothing bad would ever happen to both Mom and Dad while we were off saving the world. Ever. I genuinely thought that if something happened, it would have been one of us going home, having to explain to the kids why Mom or Dad wasn’t coming back, holding the kids as they cried. Hotch and I were prepared for that. But I never in a million years thought that our kids would have to grow up as orphans. Yet, while watching Hotch desperately pry and scrape at the door, I couldn’t help but think that Jack was going to have to live with knowing that three of his parents dies because of the BAU, and that Scarlet was going to have to grow up without Mom, Dad, Curls, and Uncle Morgan.

Emily was going to have to come back. Because she was Scarlet’s godmother, she would have to leave London to handle the will, the house, everything with Jessica. From there, the two of them would have to decide who was going to take the kids and where they were going to be raised. Would Emily take them to England? She had a steady job there with enough income for a thousand kids, but did she have a place for them in her life? Not really. Would she still fight like hell to raise them, anyhow? Of course. As for Jessica, she had a job, but not one with enough income to support two kids on her own. Her place was big enough for them, and it was already in our neighborhood, so she could make sure the kids still went to their schools where they had friends.

Not that my opinion mattered in any of this. The door was barely budging, and Garcia had managed to severe the tie between the phone Curtis had and the bombs he planted; but if we didn’t get the door all the way open soon, none of it was going to matter. My kids were going to grow up forgetting their parents’ faces.

“What the hell are you guys doing in there?!” Rossi exclaimed on the other side of the door. He must have pressed something outside, because it suddenly opened, giving us freedom. “Ever heard of traps before?”

“We have to go,” Hotch ordered, ignoring Rossi’s wit. He must’ve still been high from whatever the hospital gave him.

When we ran outside, ducking behind the SUVs for cover, I looked around for a headcount, realizing that we were one short. Hotch, Morgan, Reid, JJ, they were all there… “Rossi!” I shouted.

He was right behind us, I thought, while we were running out of the house. Where the fuck did he go? It wasn’t like he could get lost, considering all of the sirens and lights that were coming from the road we were on. We were like a beacon screaming: “HEY, WE’RE OVER HERE, IDIOT?!” So, where the fuck was he?

“We have to go back in.” I stepped around the car and took a step that was meant to lead into a sprint, but Hotch caught me, holding me back the same way Morgan had when JJ found out that Will was going into The Face Cards’ bank. “Aaron, stop!” I hit at his hands to make him let go, but he didn’t budge. I didn’t understand. Rossi was his best friend the same way Morgan was mine; why wasn’t he doing anything? “We have to get him!”

“Look, he’s right there,” Hotch said calmly, risking letting go of me with one arm so that he could point at the house. Rossi was crawling out of the storm cellar that connected to the basement we were in. He stumbled for a moment, trying to get to his feet, and then he started running like hell towards us. “He’s fine.”

As if the timing couldn’t’ve been any more perfect, the place blew just when Rossi was far enough that it wouldn’t hurt him. We all ducked while flinching. Glass shattered, wooden beams flew in different directions, and part of the house collapsed in on itself. I did my headcount again. Hotch had me in his arms, Morgan was at my side, Reid was checking on JJ, and Rossi was now casually walking over to us. We had everyone. We were okay. So, I relaxed in Hotch’s arms, letting my head fall back against his chest. What a shitty fucking fucking weekend.

[patchessolostan]

vertigo

a snippet of a dnf fic i’m kinda working on. 1.8k, canon-ish

Isn’t it strange, how sometimes, certain smells can inspire old feelings, can awaken memories that seemed to be forgotten? The delicate pathways in our brains weaved together in unintended ways, so tight and durable, and yet completely slipping past our radar.

For example, love, to George, smells like oranges.

It’s one of his first ever memories: a Christmas morning two decades ago, the faint tickle of his wool sweater, the subtle warmth of the sun spilling down his back. And his mother’s hands, skin soft and unmarred, neat, rounded nails digging into the orange, carefully peeling it and then splitting its tender flesh. It’s hazy at best, but the smile on her face, his father’s laughter, the sweet juice spilling past his lips—they’re as clear as day still.

He thinks there’s no amount of time that could fade the memory of that warmth from his chest.

 So, perhaps George should’ve known his fate since the day Dream told him his shampoo is orange scented.

But then again, who's to say he would've wanted to change a single thing?

 “I’ll wear the brightest blue clothes I have,” Dream promises, and George can hear the grin in his voice. He always can, whenever the topic of George’s approaching visit comes up. “So much blue, you’ll want to vomit when you see me.”

“That seems counter-productive,” George answers, giggling when Dream sighs dramatically.

“Fine,” he relents when George quiets down. “It’ll be a mild headache. I’m sure you can deal with that.”

I think I could deal with anything, as long as I get to meet you, George thinks, and despite his fluttering heart and shaking hands, he doesn’t say it.

“I hate you both. This is unfair,” Sapnap speaks up after staying silent for five solid minutes while they talked about the upcoming trip. George practically jumps and starts giggling again. “It is so unfair, you both suck, and I’ll fucking block you. Try me.”

“Oh no,” Dream wheezes out, and the sound of both his and George’s laughter easily conceals Sapnap’s muttered insults and protests.

“C’mon,” George says eventually. “At least you know how he looks like. I’m crossing the ocean to meet a fucking stranger.”

“...fair enough,” Sapnap agrees, and Dream just wheezes harder.

George bites his lip before letting his grin fully unfurl as he stares down at his fidgeting fingers.

I’m meeting him.

He wants to scream. Instead George just gently smacks his forehead on his desk.

 Ever since the plans get made, the ticket bought (Dream insists on paying, despite George’s half-assed protests), time seems to move both incredibly fast and insanely slow.

Still, soon enough there’s only a week left to his flight. And yet... George feels like every waking hour takes three more to pass. And it’s not like he can waste the hours away by sleeping, like before.

Now every time he lays down and closes his eyes, all George can think of are warm arms around him. All he can see in his mind is that still blurry face and a mess of dark blonde hair. That wheezy laugh in his ear, the Hello, George that Dream will inevitably whisper, so close that his breath will brush past his skin and set George alight from inside out.

It's already driving George crazy, and he's still almost 7 thousand kilometres away.

 He packs his bag, and then pulls it apart while looking for a charger, and packs again, and again, and again, in a seemingly never-ending cycle of anxious fidgeting.

He starts planning three different videos at once and scrapes two of them once he's almost done.

He turns Twitter notifications off, and tries to keep his phone face down on the desk, but as the date creeps closer, it's getting harder and harder. Somehow, he seems to spend even more time talking to Dream, even if before it seemed almost impossible.

Despite his big words, Sapnap isn't actually upset. In fact, he's possibly just as excited as George, which he finds hilarious and annoying at once. And though Dream seems to agree with George, he doesn't try to calm neither of them down, instead just feeding the flames.

Surprisingly, the trio manage to keep the meetup plans from fans; that’s not to say that they don’t sense a new kind of tension between them. Every worried, questioning donation and tweet is hard to ignore, with the way George’s tongue itches with impatience.

For now, it feels too fragile, too private to share, at least until he plants his feet on the Florida soil, until he hears Dream laugh in real life and watches the way his face lights up in real time.

 And then, as if no time at all has passed, it's here.

 Tomorrow, Dream texts in lieu of goodnight. George flops over in his bed a few times, legs uncomfortably tangled in the sheets, bottom lip between his teeth.

Tomorrow, he answers, and it feels like a promise.

George curls his fingers around his phone, pushing it under the pillow, and then buries his face under it too, cheeks hot from the force of his smile.

That night is full of fitful, anxious sleep, and when George wakes, it’s with a start. He jumps up and stumbles out of bed in panic.

It's so quiet in the apartment—too quiet, too still, like the world itself has paused. His heart is racing as he scrambles through the sheets for his phone.

Did he oversleep? Did he miss the alarm? Did he even set an alarm? The memories of last night are hazy, and George thinks his heart will push out into his throat when his fingers finally brush against glass.

All breath rushes out of him when the screen turns on, a clear 6:41 AM on his lockscreen.

He's fine. The anxiety pulls back, leaving George's muscles weak and sleep-tired, so he slumps on the ruffled sheets.

Thought I overslept, almost had a heart attack, he sends to Dream, fully expecting him to laugh at his expense when he finally wakes up.

To George's surprise, the message gets read immediately.

I would’ve called you :), comes through, and before George can answer, Dream writes again.

I’ll have to call a cab for us. Haven’t slept since yesterday.

George huffs out an amused breath.

Would be a shame to kick the bucket right after meeting you, he replies and closes his eyes, placing the phone on his chest.

Now that the panic from before has subsided, another takes its place, slowly rising up and overtaking his pliant body like a tide.

There it is, the final dance, the last conversation where George can’t imagine the face behind the words; it’s just as frightening as it is thrilling. It’s bittersweet on his tongue, a piece of rotten fruit in his mouth.

He can’t help but wonder—what if it changes everything? What if it’s nothing like he expects? What if Dream realizes he can’t stand George when he can’t just leave the call?

George’s not a kid, he’s not all that naïve, and he’s well aware that people who work perfectly when there’s an ocean between them, can clash horribly once they share personal space. Life isn’t a fairy tale where everything works out perfectly, with a happy ending for everyone tied up in a neat bow.

His phone vibrates, scattering the restless thoughts, and George opens his eyes, pausing for a moment before finally lifting it.

At least I’d die a happy man.

He stares at his phone for a while, heart fluttering so hard, George barely manages to breathe in.

Perhaps he’s stupid enough to believe in good endings anyway.

 //

 Anxiety, however, smells like sweat and gasoline.

It didn’t always, but now George doesn’t think he could ever be in an airplane and not remember this day. Sitting in a packed airplane, left leg jumping up and down, fingers tightly gripping his elbows, as George stares through the window and waits for the plane to take off. Begging, pleading his mind to change gears, think of anything else but the upcoming moment.

A child whines behind him, some lady argues with the flight attendant, the doors close, the engine starts, and then UK is just a smear of colours underneath him.

He leans back and lets time and space run its course.

 The Orlando airport is a mess of sounds and lights that grate on George’s groggy mind as he slowly makes his way to the baggage claim. His phone is quiet, and he can’t help but keep glancing at it, knowing full well there’s no answer to his short I’m here.

Fear firmly grips his throat in a fist, a cruel voice whispering dreadful forecast, no matter how hard George tries to not listen.

He’ll take one look at you, and he’ll see, it promises as George waits for his suitcase to show up. He’ll figure it out, now that there’s no screen to hide behind. And he’ll be disgusted. He’ll ask you to leave.

Dream wouldn’t, George wants to argue; but then again. Just how well does he know Dream?

This is the first time he’ll see him, and they’ve known each other for years now. There could be a stranger behind the screen, one not as kind and wonderful as the Dream he’s used to. One that would—

“George?”

The all-too-familiar voice stops George in his tracks, and his muscles lock up, brain painfully blank as he worries his bottom lip.

Eventually, perhaps after way too long, George turns around.

And there he is.

 He’s wearing a navy t-shirt and blue jeans, just as promised, and his smile is so wide it takes up half of his face, and George can’t tear his gaze away from it. He knows he should be exploring the face that’s brand new to him, committing all the features to memory so even weeks later, they’d be perfect and fresh.

And yet, it’s those peach-pink lips he can’t stop staring at, like some stereotypical fool.

“Dream?” he whispers, though his feet don’t dare to move.

“I knew I should’ve worn something brighter,” Dream says. His voice is light, and happy, and he’s coming closer, and George can’t quite breathe in, his chest seized in an iron grip.

He wants to answer with a quip, a joke, the way he could when it was just the two of them in a Discord call, but he realizes any words would be followed by tears; and that’s just not the way to make a first impression.

So, George stays quiet and lets his suitcase drop when Dream wraps his arms around him.

Dream is so warm. The cotton of his shirt is soft underneath George’s palms. He smells like summer, like citrus fruit and the ocean, and George almost instinctively buries his nose in his shoulder.

Dream’s breath stutters near George’s ear.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, lips brushing over George’s skin and sending waves of heat and cold down to his toes.

“Me too,” he answers, and pulls his best friend even closer, feeling complete and safe for the first time in a long, long while. “Me too.”

[sweeethinny]

Trick or treat, sweetie?

I wanted to do something for Halloween, but I'm a little skeptical, and spirit stories and these things don't really do much to me BUT thinking about Sharp Objects and all the True Crime cases I’ve heard, I managed to write this, and I think I did something decent thanks to the hinny discord that helped me choose the costume for our couple

It was Halloween day, which meant that almost all teenagers in town would lie to their parents saying they were going to get candy when in fact, they would be in the forest drinking, making out behind the rocks, or throwing themselves into the clearing that was there close by.

Ginny would be no different.

She had convinced Harry to wear a couple costume, not because it was just tacky and funny, but because his ass would look much better on Princess Leia's costume than it did on her. Also, she was much more suited to Han Solo than Harry.

‘’You look great.’’ She said, hitting his ass as soon as her boyfriend came out of the bathroom, still fixing his wig on his head

"This shit itches" Harry complained, sitting on the edge of his bed so that Ginny could straighten the clip that held the fake hair back. "You look hot." His hand also hit her ass, staying there. "Your mother would die if she knew we were like this.''

‘’She knows, and she said that as much as you look good in white, you should wear Han Solo’s clothes’’ Ginny kissed him quickly, squeezing his chin and sucking on his lip ‘‘I disagree. I think men in skirts are sexy’’

‘’I’m happy that I like your beauty standard’’ The boy stood up, putting the last details before looking at her ‘’Ready?’’

‘’I’ve always been’’ Ginny lifted her chin, taking his hand and pulling him out of the room. Of course Lily asked the two of them to stop for a photo, commenting to James about the two being beautiful and that Harry should start wearing a cape like that more often because it did so much for his shoulders.

‘’Behave yyou two! I don't want to go to the police station to take out two stupid teenagers'' James warned them before they left the house, which Harry promptly confirmed and calmed them down about the two of them being home before one in the morning (everyone knew it was a lie, but at that day they would all pretend to be true)

‘‘Han Solo who should drive’’ Ginny reminded him, sitting in the passenger seat while warning Hermione that they were already on  way

‘’If he had a driver’s license, for sure. For now, let me do it.'' Harry left his hand on her thigh, as he always did, following the old path they used to reach the clearing, passing through the town square where the children were having fun, gathered to start picking up sweets or throwing toilet paper at someone's house, and going straight until they reached the street of the pig slaughterhouse, to finally reach the road.

‘’Mione said she’s also going’’ She said ‘‘Do we have to buy anything?’’

‘’No, I left the drinks with Seamus yesterday. We just need to get our nice ass over there’’ Harry smiled ‘‘I hope you won’t be jealous when everyone looks at mine, instead of yours’’ Ginny laughed, denying and shrugging

‘’Feel free, I’m not jealous’’

‘’Ah, sure’’ Harry used all his sarcasm, barely taking his eyes off the empty road ‘‘It’s ugly to lie, Han’’

‘‘I’m not lying’’ She defended herself ‘’When did you see me jealous?’’

‘’Yesterday when that girl flirted with me at the market’’ He barely stopped to think, which made her a little irritated, even though she was amused

''Ah, so you admit it was a flirtation'' Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulders, crossing her legs and looking out the window, seeing the city a little further away now ''I remember you saying it was just her way''

‘’But she’s like that. Ask Nev’’ She looked at him, arching an eyebrow and holding back laughter

‘’Nev didn’t have sex with Kimbely’’ Ginny argued

‘‘I don’t know’’ Harry shrugged ‘‘She is very friendly’’

‘’And what do you know about that?’’ She poked, still staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug smile on her face

‘’Nothing, just what-- What the fuck!?’’ Harry braked the car with much more speed than was recommended, the noise echoing down the empty road, seeming to shake the trees that lay there. Ginny bounced forward, her body being stopped by her seat belt, but her head hit the panel, causing an irritating pain.

When she looked up to look at the road in front of her, a curse escaped her mouth, staring at the woman standing in the middle of the road, all dressed in white while carrying an ax dripping with blood.

‘’Do you think we should see if everything is okay?’’ Harry asked, gaping at the scene, still staring at that woman

''I think you should back up and runaway from here'' She replied, scared to death ''It's the fucking woman in white, what are we still doing standing around?'' The woman in white , the urban legend of that small town that, a few years ago, had been the local of three brutal deaths.

The three girls were not even fifteen when they disappeared, one at a time; the first disappeared in the summer, some said that she had run away with her boyfriend, others said that she had killed herself in the clearing, and it was only after three weeks of searching that her body was found, on the roof of the pig slaughterhouse, all dismembered.

The second was in the fall of that same year, but she had not been gone for more than three days, and her body was found hanging from the traffic lights on the main street, exposed for all to see.

In the meantime, the parents were already in a panic, and no more children or teenagers were seen alone on the street, the doors were closed before six and no one left the house at night. For a city with less than 5,000 inhabitants, that was the biggest terror they had ever faced.

The third disappeared after a year, on the anniversary of the death of the first, she had disappeared after going for a bike ride on the way to a friend's house, and for months no one had any news or evidence of the disappearance. On the anniversary of the death of the second, her body was found half on the roof of the slaughterhouse, and the other half, hanging from the traffic lights.

It was chaos.

When a truck driver pleaded guilty - a few months of panic and terror for everyone in the city afterwards - everyone pretended to be more relieved. He never confessed the reason for killing the three girls so brutally, but it didn't matter, the population would pretend to be peace again. Even if one of the boys who lived on the way to the clearing, claimed that he had seen a woman in white carrying the body across the road, dragging it into the forest.

The police always denied it, saying that there was no chance of a woman committing something as horrible as that, but the population never let themselves forget the legend. Sometimes, someone said that he had seen a woman dressed in a great bloodstained robe walking around the city. Another said he had seen her in the clearing. Another said that she was always around the slaughterhouse ..

And now, there was a woman in a white dress full of blood, an ax in her hand, in front of Harry's car, looking like the devil as she looked at them.

Her hair was blond and looked dirty with dirt and something Ginny hoped was not dried blood, her eyes were big and dark, like two holes in her pale, almost skeletal face, and all over her bust were marks of scrapes and cuts.

‘’The car doesn’t want to start’’ Harry almost screamed, turning the key and seeing that nothing was changing

''What?! No! I will not die! This shit will call and we'll go over that motherfucker'' Ginny shouted in response, nervous to the last strands of hair for seeing that the woman was starting to walk, using her free hand to clean what looked like blood dry, from her cheek.

''I do not know! Damn!’’ Harry hit the steering wheel, and the horn barely seemed to startle her, and maybe, she was already less than two meters away from them

‘‘Where’s the knife I always leave it here?’’ Ginny opened each compartment, shivering as she rummaged through Harry’s mess looking for metal

‘’She has a fucking ax, what the fuck are you going to do with a knife? She will kill you before you can say the word ‘Please’ ’’ He looked at her, looking like a piece of paper so white, then turning forward and moving the key again

‘’Harry, she’s getting close’’ Ginny whispered, terrified that the woman could hear her trembling voice

‘’I know, I’m trying’’ The blonde was walking more and more, starting to laugh like crazy, loudly and laughing with her head back, dragging the ax on the road floor, causing a terrible sound of the blade on the asphalt

''Trick or treat, sweeties?'' Her voice sounded loud but at the same time it seemed to be whispered, her black eyes blinked towards them both, and the moment she got close enough to touch the hood of the car, lifting her ax and ready to break the windshield, Harry managed to turn the key.

The noise of the engine echoed and the tires sang with the sharp reverse they made, moving further and further away from the woman who now ran towards them

‘’Go over it !!’’ Ginny screamed, terrified of how fast she could be

''I'm not going to jail!'' He also shouted, changing lanes so he could accelerate and got out of there, but he couldn't avoid when the woman threw herself on top of the car, rolling over the hood and falling on the road, staying still dirtier than before, but not looking dead. She was still laughing out loud and was able to move, looking like she wanted to get up.

'’Don't you dare stop. I swear Harry, I'll kill you!’’ Ginny felt her heart racing to the point of thinking she was having an attack, barely able to breathe properly ‘’ Accelerate and let’s go ’’

‘’Shit Gin!’’ Harry stepped on the gas, much faster than the law allowed, and left, feeling completely shaky ‘‘Damn I think I’m going to pass out’’

''I swear to you, if I hadn't gone to the bathroom before we left, I would have peed in my pants'' She took a deep breath ''What the fuck was that?'' Ginny asked, still looking back as if she expected see her again

''I do not know! Where did that fuck come from?’’ He said

‘’From hell’’ Ginny said. Harry had the audacity to laugh, but he didn't seem very happy ‘’I need a strong drink’’

‘’Me too’’ He replied, parking the car in the middle of the trees and listening to the sounds of music and conversations, some headlights were on and you could see the bodies walking from side to side. Harry squeezed Ginny's thigh, as if to confirm that she was there. ‘’Do you want to drink and then have sex in the back seat? I think I need to discharge the adrenaline’’

‘‘I don’t think you’ve ever come up with anything as good as this’’

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Perfect-J.M

Pairing: James Marriott x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Pronouns: They/Them

Closing the front door, James let out a sigh. He had just gotten back to his flat after spending some time out at a coffee shop. Today he had a date, and it went amazing. In the afternoon, James had gone out to a small coffee shop downtown to meet with someone he had been talking to for a while, it was their fourth date. James was the first one to get to the cafe, which made him a bit nervous. Did he show up too early? Or what if he came too late because he messed up the time of the date? The brunette took a seat at a small booth in the corner of the coffee shop by the window, stealing glances at the front door every now and then as he waited. Sunlight would fill into the shop through the windows, lighting the place in a strange illuminating way. Eventually, the front door had opened again, revealing James's date. They looked around for a moment before their eyes finally landed on their date in the corner of the cafe. James gave a wave with a stupid grin on his face, he loved talking to Y/n, they were so intelligent and fun (not to mention how attractive they were). The pair had ended up spending a couple of hours sitting in that booth, just talking and laughing. They worked so well together, they had similar interests and just enjoyed being around one another in general. Eventually, Y/n had noticed the sun had begun to set, meaning they needed to head back to their flat, Y/n was planning on finishing some of their homework for Uni tonight. When they went their separate ways, James couldn't help but feel excited. He had just spent time with this amazing person that just made him feel so happy, Just being around Y/n just made him feel great. As James made his way into his bedroom, his phone had gotten a buzz, meaning someone had messaged him. He quickly pulled the device out of his pocket, his eyes scanning over the screen. One text message from a group chat he was a part of with George, Will, and Alex. Alex had sent the text message. 'Hey, are we still going to film tomorrow?' James hopes had shot up from his phone going off, he thought he could have possibly received a new text from Y/n. At this point they had already given their phone numbers to one another so they could get off of Tinder. There was no point in trying to go to bed, he had a coffee at 5:30, it had only been two hours since then. That's when an idea had popped into his head, why not film for a bit? So James found himself sitting at his desk, beginning to set up his camera as he tried to think of something good to talk about. When it finally hit 11:30 AM, James had finished up his video. He'd just end up sending it off to his editor later tomorrow, right now he was beginning to feel a bit drowsy. Making his way to his bedroom, James sent one final text to Y/n. 'I have no clue if you're still up but I just wanted to say goodnight.' After a few minutes of preparing for bed, James's phone had buzzed once again. Y/n's name popped up on his screen. 'I just finished my homework, I plan on going to bed soon. Good night, J.' J... he liked that nickname, it was cute. James found it incredibly sweet that Y/n had come up with a simple nickname to call him. He would have to figure out some type of nickname to give Y/n. As James laid down to try and fall asleep, he couldn't help but think of the way Y/n smiled before laughing. Their nose would scrunch up a small bit as they let out a giggle first. It was something James couldn't help but adore.

"Alright, next topic," Alex sat in front of his camera as he looked at his monitor. The boys were filming another episode for their podcast channel, as the next topic was brought up, James heard his phone buzz. Another text from Y/n. 'Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch some Disney movies with me? I just got Disney plus.' Another stupid grin had appeared on his face as he quickly began to type back. Of course, one of the boys had noticed on their Discord call. "Jimbo, why are you smiling like that? Find out someone poor died?" Will leaned back in his seat as he spoke. "Dead meme, Will!" Their masked friend snapped, "James Marriott hates the poor, haha funny. I've been trying to kill this meme for the past month!" Alex let out a small laugh at his friends as James looked back up at his friends on his monitor, "No, actually... I've been talking to someone and we just planned to hang out tonight." "Oh, how long have you guys been talking?" Will asked as he began to fiddle with the wire connecting his headphones to his PC. "Two months," James had answered as he placed his phone back down. "They're perfect, literally everything I've ever wanted, they have it. They're intelligent, kind, They're working on getting their degree, and they know how to keep a conversation going. I really hope they'll want to start a relationship with me, right now we're just talking." "If I was you, I'd just go for it. Ask them out, if you know you want to start a relationship with this person and be with them, you shouldn't waste any time about it. You're certain you want to be with this person?" "Yes." "Then call them right now, and ask them to start a relationship with you. If you're completely positive that they want to be with you just as much as you want to be with them, call them and tell them how you feel. Don't pussy out, be a man!" a grin appeared on Will's face as he gave his motivational speech. "Be a man, Jimbo!" James's other two friends had joined in with the cheering. "Yeah, be a man!" "God, the pure pressure is getting to me," James spoke as a grin appeared on his face. He picked up his phone once again, beginning to pull up Y/n's contact. "Wait, he is actually gonna do it?" Will asked, sitting up as he leaned forward to try and figure out if James had actually taken his advice. James nodded as his grin grew wider, leaving the boys to burst out in excitement. 'Hey, can I call you? It'll take just a minute.' Y/n was quick to reply to James's text. 'Of course. :)' James excused himself from his computer, leaving the boys to continue cheering in excitement. Taking a step out of the room he usually filmed in, he hit the 'call' button on Y/n's contact. "Hey, J. What's up?" "Hey, N/n," James smiled from the sound of their voice. "I was wondering if I could ask you a question?" "n/n, that's cute," Y/n let out a small giggle. James could only imagine how they scrunched up their nose as they smiled from hearing that. "Yeah, go ahead." "Do you want to start an actual relationship with me?" A grin appeared on Y/n's face as they stopped what they were working on. "I'd love to, James." James could feel happiness entering his body as Y/n spoke. Yes, it was going to happen, he was now going to be in a relationship with them. "God, I'm so happy you said yes. I was so scared you'd think I'm trying to rush everything," he let out a sigh of relief as he brushed a hand through his messy hair. "God no, how could I say no? You're literally my dream guy." If James wasn't already happy, just hearing that from Y/n made him feel amazing. Being Y/n's dream guy? A dream come true. "Are we still on for movie night later?" "you know it." "Alright, I need to get back to filming a video for YouTube. I'll call you afterward?" "Sounds great to me," Y/n hummed. "I'll talk to you soon." With that, James made his way back to his computer. Placing his headphones on, he had flinched from hearing his trio of friends yelling 'woo woo' "Oh wait, Jimbo is back," Will had stopped repeating himself. "how'd it go?" "They said yes." Everyone had started to cheer as soon as the sentence left James's lips. He was happy, he was able to say he was in a relationship with Y/n. just the feeling of being able to say that felt amazing. Eventually, after a few congratulations, the boys continued on with their podcast. Meanwhile, James kept getting lost in his thoughts, he couldn't help but think of Y/n and how much he cared for them. Y/n was just so perfect.

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