#don't mind me just. making things that my child self would look at for hours idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkblot22 · 3 months

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Truss

Woohoo Malleus woohoo! I'm making the trigger list a bit bigger because I keep thinking about how people will totally skip reading it if it's too small and then blame the writer for their own mistake. That shit is clown behavior but I don't want to be held responsible for someone else's case of stupid, so sorry to those of you who think this looks clunky. Line divider found here: @/cafekitsune. This is also a fic that is wildly self-indulgent, in that I mean that while writing I visualized my own physical form and quirks.

That being said, this fic is written with afab (assigned female at birth) readers in mind. No pronouns other than you are used for the reader, but the reader does possess a womb. Reader's chest is not described in the least, just the lower bits, and even then it's not at length. Malleus also refers to the reader as "beauty," but masculine people can be beautiful too so idk but here's a warning anyways.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for noncon, fae interaction rules used for said noncon, slight bullying if you squint, one (1) mention of blood (I'm beginning to think I have a problem.) Stay safe while reading. Possible OOC Malleus, I haven't read any of book 7 and if you spoil it I'll block you temporarily.

This is absolutely not your fault, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. It’s awful. Crewel was for sure his namesake, because this whole thing was a steaming pile of-

Alright, from the top, just to organize your thoughts: you are the only non-magic student in a school of mages. The teachers are mages. Your best friend/roommate/monster friend is a mage. The plants here can do magic, but you? No. Thanks homeworld. Love the gift of nothing.

Thus, the faculty have seemingly created a game of “how to piss off and challenge the magicless student,” in which they give you various tasks to just make you lose sleep. Vargas had you running laps until your legs felt like jelly, doing pushups until your shoulders started sounding like glowsticks. Trein had you learning completely off the wall trivia, such as what type of fabric the Queen of Heart’s favorite bathrobe was made of and why it made her more powerful. That’s nothing, it’s easy because you apparently have so much free time in their eyes. But Crewel? Fuck that man.

When you got the assignment, it sounded fun and exciting. He gave you seeds for a fast-growing rose thing. Honestly you weren’t paying attention to the name of it, but you retained what you needed to know. The plant only grew in moonlight, so you needed to cover it before you went inside at night. It needed a minimum of two hours of moonlight to grow per night. If the basket was overturned and it was exposed to the sun, then the plants would die. Moderate watering, no fertilizer, the usual.

Once the plants bloomed, you were supposed to take the flowers and make some kind of glamour potion, so here you are, failing at doing so. You only had four flowers, and you’re down to the last one. You wasted three tries and you still have no idea what the hell you’re doing wrong and it’s due next alchemy class and you’re breaking curfew on top of all of it. You glare into your cauldron with your latest failed attempt and hunker down to shoulder against the side so you can dump it out and try again.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice makes you jump out of your skin. You turn around and you almost want to cry tears of joy, because if anyone can help you, it’s him.

“When I saw a little head duck down, I thought that something strange was happening. A crime, perhaps.” Malleus smiles, and it’s not a kind smile, but you’ll take anything remotely positive at this point, “What are you doing on the floor, child of man?”

“Oh, I have to empty the cauldron.” You puff out, still trying to throw your weight to push the cauldron. You did it twice earlier, so this must be the effects of mental and physical fatigue.

“Oh, that’s right. Allow me.” Rather than waving a hand or anything, Malleus strolls on over and uncrosses his arms, taking one hand and pressing his fingertips against the lip of the cauldron. The whole damn thing tips, the failed mixture pouring out into the nearby drain. With the same ease, he tilts it back and turns to you.

When he looks at you, it’s… weird. You know he’s lizard-like, as dragons evidently are, but even Sebek’s eyes aren’t this jarring. They aren’t soulless or cold or unfeeling, but it feels like he is looking through you. His emotions don’t reflect in his eyes properly. That’s what it feels like. They reflect, but it’s wrong. Fractured. His lips quirk into a smile and you blink.

“Uh… wait, what are you doing out here, Tsunotaro?” You ask, turning to gather more materials, following the transcript of your recording from class.

His smile grows, “Just on a walk. Will you tell me what you’re trying to make?”

“Uh, yeah. This glamour potion? I don’t know. Remember how I was growing those flowers?”

“Of course. And what happened to the rest?”

“I… uh… I messed up the other potions. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here.”

“No?”

“No. Do… do you think you could maybe… help me?”

“Of course.” Malleus plucks the flower up, twirling it thoughtfully, “Why don’t you gather the other ingredients?”

That was simple enough. Petals from your tediously grown blooms, some kind of floral oil with tiny white flowers inked on the label, a ball of clay no bigger than a pea, something that really resembled a severed finger, something that was hopefully just someone’s baby tooth, a handful of crystals in a rainbow of colors, and water. Lots of water. Malleus watches as you put all your ingredients on the nearby table and hums thoughtfully before dimming the lights and turning back to you.

“And where did you hear that you needed these things?” He asks. It’s not something that he says with any indication that you’re right or wrong. The tone is bland but the words say enough.

He has essentially told you before that he believes you inept, a babe in the woods when it comes to this sort of thing, but it doesn’t stop you from looking as hurt as you feel, “The headmage visited class and gave me some pointers?”

“You personally or the entire class? I don’t personally recall concocting anything like this when I was in your grade.” He says.

You suppose you’re grateful that he’s so blunt, but his flat tone makes the sting of your failure that much sharper. You thought he’d be nicer, since you two are sort of friends, and Lilia has told you that Malleus is fond of you, but it also makes just as much sense for him to refrain from easing up in his flatness because he supposedly thinks so much of you. He thinks you’re an idiot, but he’s not willing to treat you as such.

“The whole class. And no one else in my grade is doing this.” You mutter, staring at your assortment of items on the table.

He approaches the table and plucks up the beaker of water, twisting it in his hand, “Did you distill this?”

“What?”

“Tap water often has various minerals in it. If you haven’t been using distilled water, you’ve been adding an extra ingredient. Typically, most potions are much more forgiving and you can use tap water with little issue, but this particular potion is known to be disagreeable.” He murmurs, crossing the room with your beaker of water and setting it up to distill with a practiced ease. “That’s why it’s typically saved for fourth year students’ aptitude testing.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. You’d like to protest but it unfortunately makes sense. Malleus looks over at you, somewhat blandly, then turns around to face you, looking half concerned.

You answer his question before he can ask, “I didn’t… know that. I guess it’s my fault for being from a different world…”

His lips twitch into a smile, and for a moment you can see amusement in his eyes, fractured with the underlying coldness, “Oh, it isn’t. It may be your fault for failing to ask questions, but having someone who is unused to this type of work take on an advanced project is cruel.”

“You think so?” You ask, voice lilting with hope.

“Of course I do. Why you’re expected to make a potion of this caliber is beyond me.” Malleus states blankly.

“Uh, yeah. I- I don’t know either. But thank you for helping me!”

His expression flinches. It lasts for less than a second before it smooths into an odd grin. You’re not quite sure what that means, but you’re too happy to stop and think about it. The water finishes distilling and you carefully begin crafting, using the tips Malleus occasionally mumbles towards you. Don’t put that ingredient in yet, stir clockwise, you need to grind that up with the oil, don’t rush you have time, et cetera, et cetera, and then you have a gorgeous violet mixture, glimmering with a pearlescent golden sheen.

Your jaw drops. Somehow the few ingredients you threw together is enough to fill several bottles. Malleus is making a smug face as you rush to the shelves of empty bottles and choose several fluted bottles, quickly using a ladle to deposit the final, successful potion into the bottles. You’re so giddy with your success that you hardly notice as Malleus walks towards the door and locks it. But only hardly.

“What was that for?” You ask, not actually caring. You’re too happy to be worried.

“Oh, we’ll need privacy.” He responds.

That part confuses you enough into caring. You turn around from where you’ve safely wrapped the bottles and slipped them into your bag and shoot Malleus a frown, “Privacy? For what?”

Malleus doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the table and you feel your body stand up, void of your control, and stagger over to stand in front of him. If you were concerned before, you’re frightened now. Malleus looks down at you with his strange gaze and folds his arms.

“Wh-what’s happening?! Why can’t I move?”

“You really don’t know?” He asks. Something about his tone sounds mocking, but you’re certain he doesn’t mean it to be. It’s his version of sarcasm, he’s spoken to you like this before.

Your body hops up on the table, taking a seat, and Malleus turns to stand before you, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shift your hips- what the fuck is going on- and Malleus very gently hooks his hands in the pants of your dorm uniform.

Your dorm uniform is legit whatever the hell you want it to be, so it would change on the daily. Today it was a pair of jeans and a hooded jacket. He kneels to remove your shoes and stands back up, leaning close as he tilts your chin up. His breath fans over your lips.

“You didn’t tell me that you were so lovely beneath your clothes.” His hand on your chin shifted to your cheek, and his other hand laid flat on the table. “And… your smell is much stronger. Are you aroused?”

“You can’t just ask me that! I don’t know what you did but you’ve got to let me go.”

“I didn’t do anything. This is your doing.” He retorts, pecking your lips very chastely.

“What are you talking about?” When he didn’t respond, instead pressing the tips of his hand that was on the table against your exposed sex, your heart jumps but your body doesn’t move. You can’t, “Don’t do that!”

“Lilia informed me that making someone climax is similar to binding someone to you.” He mumbles, kissing you again as his fingers slowly slip inside. “It makes them fall in love with you. Isn’t that the most binding contract of all?”

You don’t know why he isn’t listening, but even less than that, you don’t know why he thought you could handle two fingers, much larger than your own, penetrating you. You squeal, but your body is incapable of tensing. Malleus pulls back, looking at you in a soft confusion.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? That’s too many- it’s uncomfortable!”

He blinks at you and withdraws a finger, which feels much better. You sigh. If you’re going to be forced to do this, you may as well not get hurt in the process. You close your eyes and Malleus hums.

“Is this better? You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t had a dalliance with a human before.”

“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to… to forgive you for this.”

“No?” You can hear his smirk and the squelching noise as he pumps his finger gets louder. He slips the second finger in again and the burn isn’t so bad as last time, “Well, maybe you can decide that for certain after the wedding.”

“The wedd-” You have to bite your tongue to keep from moaning. Your body leans back, laying on the table, and your gentle assailant curls his fingers, leaning forward to mouth at your neck, “There’s not gonna be a motherfucking wedding. You’re-”

You can hear his horn scraping against the table, “Hmm. I didn’t think you were so entitled. You’re squeezing around my fingers. Are you close?”

“No!” You’re a liar. A ragged gasp leaves your throat and you feel the drop in the pit of your stomach, the burst of euphoria traveling up your spine as his thumb presses against your clit.

Malleus laughs, then leans up off of you. The sound of clothing hitting the ground is the first and only warning you get, but you can’t move, so it might as well have been silent. You feel something on your stomach, coming up about a half inch below your belly button. It’s… almost cool to the touch. You would think it would be warmer, but it’s not. Your eyes round as you stare at the ceiling, and Malleus’s face leans into view, his eyes boring into yours as though he’s reading your thoughts.

“You’re very warm. I’ve always thought this. You must be boiling inside.”

“I- what?”

He doesn’t respond, leaning back up. You feel the velvety head of his cock press against your entrance and as much as you want to jolt away, you can’t move your body. You can’t even look down to see what he’s doing. Your lashes flutter as the stretch sets in, the pressure worse than his two fingers. It burns, especially along the bottom, where his weight lays heavy thanks to gravity. You’re capable of wincing and letting out a whine, but nothing else.

“H-hey, that- that hurts.” You babble.

“Does it? You are squeezing me like a vice. I’ll stay still for a moment so you can relax some. Let me know when it stops hurting.” It’s very peculiar. Although he speaks with an animated tone, his voice is often detached. You would think he’d have more emotion since he’s inside of you.

You blink rapidly and decide that now is as good a time as any to ask, “What the hell is happening?”

“Must you tease me so?” He responds, his voice tense.

“What? I’m not teasing you. I can’t move!”

“Of course you can’t. You only just bound yourself to my will.”

“I what?” You shout.

“What, did you think I enslaved you? I could have, when we first met. You’re too free, giving people your name, thanking them, taking gifts freely… it drives me mad.” You feel a flash of heat, something warm rolling against your skin, like standing too close to a gas stove, “And now I find that you didn’t even know? I didn’t think you were such a fool.”

“That’s just called being polite!” You protest. “Oh my god-”

“I suppose I can’t blame you, really. Relax, lest I harm you.” He murmurs, rolling his hips further as though he can slide in deeper.

You squeak, “N-no, that’s-”

“Too much, yes. Tell me, in your world, do faefolk exist?”

“I- I mean, if they do, most people don’t believe in them.” The oddity of the situation felt like a blanket. Having a semi-conversation while your friend- not after this- used you as a dick holster. It was almost comforting. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

His voice was deeper than normal, an underlying rasp to his voice, as though it was coming from somewhere deep in his throat, “I will explain. I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know. But after I explain, I will begin to move.”

“H-hey, no-”

His voice sounded choked, half strangled as he stifled a groan, “I apologize for not being clear earlier. Among the fae, verbal contracts are common and binding. You do not give someone your name. You wonder why I never directly gave you mine? It is a way to bind someone to your will. You do not accept gifts. Invitations are fine, but a gift is a sign that you owe someone something. My help- a boon- is a gift. Typically it is repaid with another kind turn. And, most importantly, you do not thank someone without the sufficient power to break their hold.”

You felt him draw back, that wave of heat rolling over you again, and then he slammed forward. The slick noise and dull smack were muffled by your squeal, his cockhead punching your cervix like it stole from him.

“Foolish little thing. I suppose it makes you cute.” He sneers, and your body sits up, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

The angle makes his motion a bit less painful. He’s no longer bumping against your cervix, thank the Seven, but the stretch remains. Your eyes flinch shut and Malleus tilts your chin up to kiss you again.

“St-stop- stop!” You whimper, “You’re hurting me!”

“If you would relax, beauty, that would not be a problem.” His chuckle is dark, the squelching from your coupling making a wicked duet that makes you feel dizzy, “And you said it to me so easily as well. Thank me again.”

“Wh-” One of his hands slipped under your hips, holding your bottom just under the split in your cheeks, and nipped your neck as a flat thumping echoed from where your bodies met, your legs bouncing with the motion. His member had gone back to bullying your cervix, and you wailed in the hopes that he would stop, “Thank you!”

“Heh… it escapes your lips so freely. Tell me, beauty-” He cut himself off with a grunt, panting against the column of your throat. “Tell me, what is it that you’d like? I would give you the world on a platter, should you want it.”

“I- ow! Y-you’re hurting me!”

There was a possibility that he was getting off on the pain he was causing you, just as much as there was a possibility of him not understanding that he was hurting you. With every motion of his hips against yours, despite the wicked pain, you felt that ever evil tug in your gut, like a stone growing heavier and heavier.

You tried again, because if this had to happen, if you were under his control now, you may as well not get injured. You would not be pissing blood if you could help it, “It’s too deep!”

He listened. It was odd, but he listened, his voice warming as he slid back a bit and continued ramming into you, but no longer beating the hell out of your internal organs.

“I didn’t realize. Is that better?” His voice sounded warmer, echoey against your shoulder. His teeth grazed over your skin again when you didn’t respond. He choked out your name and you sort of came back to yourself.

“U-uh- I guess?”

“Wonderful.” He mumbled, his free hand reaching between your bodies and slicked with your sweat, to tweak your clit.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you reached your height. Whoever he had been with in the past couldn’t have been so sensitive, since you felt his body jerk against you, an uncontrolled undercurrent to his motions. You let out a quiet, squealing moan and barely even felt the break when Malleus bit you to muffle his own groan. You didn’t feel him climaxing inside of you. You felt the control return to your body and flopped backward onto the table, your hoodie damp with sweat. Malleus took a step back, then carefully redressed you, then himself. You looked up at him and saw nothing but adoration in his eyes, not the fractured appearance of such. It was like he was actually looking at you.

When he spoke to you, leaning forward to cup your cheek, his voice was warm, warmer than ever, “Now, let’s start planning for the wedding, my beauty.”

#twisted wonderland #tw: dark content #disney twst #tw: dark themes #tw: yandere #twst #malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #tw noncon #tw bullying #fair folk #tw blood #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #yandere male x reader #cervix bruising #you cannot convince me that getting your cervix penetrated doesn't hurt like hell #Because getting it touched is just about the worst feeling i can think of next to getting stabbed #equal pain my friend

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riayawrites · 1 month

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Something Different~ 2

Pairing: Archeron!reader x Azriel

Summary~ Reader meets the IC and discovers more about her new powers

Content Warning: not much, maybe just some fluff ??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well this is awkward. Thats what I thought upon entering the dining area and taking a seat. "So, where is Elain and Nesta?" A question directed towards Feyre, yet I couldn't help but notice how my words come out airy and sweet, different from my usually tired voice. "Oh, well uhm.. Elain has closed herself off completely and Nesta won't even look at us." Feyre says slightly hesitant. "Please, Nesta would burn this place down if she could. The girl is so hellbent on going back to the mortal lands it's quite funny." Someone different says.

I looked over at her to see striking silver eyes that made me uneasy, different from fae eyes, different from any I had ever seen. She stared me down not blinking once as she watched every moment I made in the moment. "Amren!" Someone from the table shouts, The Morrigan I presume "You're making the poor girl uncomfortable, I have no doubts she's already scared and confused out of her mind." Quite the opposite, I think. Confused, yes, but scared? Not really.

The Morrigan turns her eyes on me, "Don't mind Amren, she's just seeing if you could be a threat.." I blink. "Not that you would be of course!" "We just all have slight trust issues when it comes to meeting new people." My shoulders un-tense after she clears what she meant up. I mean I wouldn't trust me either, a random girl imposing on their self made family, that also could hurt them, not like i'd ever though."

"What she truly means is that we don't know what you're capable of, having been thrown in the cauldron, who knows what you might of took from the wretched old thing." Cassian says. "Especially not with that weird glow around you.. I'm just saying its normal for us to not trust you fully" He finishes with a shrug.

I hum in acceptance "I get it. I don't know what I am capable of myself. This is your home, you have the right to feel however you want." I say finishing the rest of whats on my plate. "Nonsense," Rhysand says "Any family of Feyre's is family to us too. We will help you if you develop any abilities in the mean time, you're not alone Y/n."

I smile at my sister and Rhysand as I stand up "Thank you, It means alot." "Hey, do you want to go shopping tomorrow? I'll show you around Velaris!" I nod "That would be amazing Morrigan. I'll see you in the morning." I take one last look at the man with blue eyes and shadows and realize I never got his name. Well whatever I'll see him sooner or later.

I make my way to my room to get ready for the night. "How the hell am I going get rid of this glitter?" I mumble to myself.

Once I get in the room I search for the source of the light that was casted from my body. While i'm taking off my dress I feel a tingling pain in my back as i go to the mirror to look at whats happening.

As I turn around i'm greeted to a pair of.. wings? on my damn back. I almost pass out as I inspect the weird looking things that have sprouted from my back. The wings are a stark contrast from the common Illyrian wings i've seen so far, they are pearly and translucent and I move them back and forth. They have a beautiful swirl pattern going though them like veins, and I realize that they remind me of fairy wings from my storybooks as a child.

I take a deep breath as I try to understand the severity of the situation, my mind racing at a hundred miles per hour as I grasp what i've really become, an immortal fairy being. I feel an anxiety attack coming on as I come to terms with these annoying beautiful wings. So this is why I feel more graceful and fragile with my movements? I mean why did they just show up instead of being there already? I shut my mind up and try and move them around. I pathetically flutter them around on my back in a attempt to at least float off the ground

"Come on... Come on..." I say fluttering the wings with all my might until I finally feel my feet lift from the ground and i'm successfully in the air. I struggled flying over to the bed but I get there and plop down with a quiet thud.

I lie down in bed for sleep and try and go to sleep but the thought of me being some mythical fairy keeps me up..

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part 2 lolll im still a beginner writer but 3 will be out tmr i hope

@impossibelle

@annaaaaa88

#azriel shadowsinger #az x reader #acosf #acowar #acomaf #acotar #amren acotar #elain archeron #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #morrigan

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bunnyyamor · 2 years

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[ OCTOBER 1ST ] DUMBIFICATION - LEVI ACKERMAN x fem! reader (priest au)

synopsis ; you go to confess your sins at a confessional. all your dirty, dark secrets and thoughts. father, on the opposite side, is hearing every last word. dripping with hunger, passion and plea for fucking. wc; 4k

warnings; mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, dumbification, religious themes, peccatophilia, masturbation (male & female), nicknames (most used are father and my child), dirty talk, handjob, oral sex (m!recieving), money shot, medium sized or big boobs (kinda self-indulged), boob play, spit play, bit of exhibitionism, bondage, beta read!

note; hello guys! this is my first every kinktober, i've always wanted to do this so i'm really excited to show this to you guys! i know it's quite long but i worked rlly hard on this! also i don't know much about religion stuff like this so don't kill me. and yes i know this propt is popular on tiktok i did get it from there.

-nav : kinktober m.list : kinktober taglist

you sat there, promptly defeated on a bench. waiting for the hour to strike 12 in the afternoon.

“12 is when I will go. I promise, God.” you bit your lip as you passed crumb after crumb of bread, mindlessly throwing each weightless piece of toast onto the floor for the birds that chirped by.

you hated yourself. you loathed who you were. you felt disgusting, vile, unclean. why would you touch yourself that way? you dreamt about men. the way they looked and smelled, how it would feel for them to touch you in all the wrong places. wrong in the eyes of the church but right in yours.

“no!” you shook yourself, free from those thoughts. “i don’t, i can’t.” you couldn’t help yourself. the need was greater than wants and thoughts. it was shadowing your mind and using you like a puppet with a master, you were following its very strings of sin.

you had to take control. take the matter by the horns and burn out the burning flame that lit inside you once and for all.

the church’s bells rang. it was many stories high and it was built of brick. there was a cross big enough for everyone to see.

with each step you took the more you grew hotter, sweating with nerves. you would have to come to terms with your condition. you would have to tell father the truth. it was embarrassing but it is what needed to happen.

as you opened the heavy doors of the church you saw that not many people were there today. that gave you some relief.

in the distance you saw the priest, father levi. he was reading the bible with some other men, perhaps giving them a voice of wisdom as well.

“poor thing,” you thought to yourself as you saw his eye. due to the accident he had a big scar on his face. you chuckled to yourself as you remembered your friend’s words about father levi. she always said he was fuckable and sexy. you couldn't deny, for being a priest he sure was sublime.

you inched closer, waiting for him to be finished with his conversation.

“um, father levi.” you inched closer, saying in just above a whisper.

levi sent the men away and held your shoulder in a loving manner, smiling. he was carrying a rosary laced around his fingers and hands.

“yes my child, what can i do for you?”

“i must confess.” you twiddled with your thumbs.

“oh, of course. right this way.” he led you to a confessional. there you leaned against the wood while he went to the opposite side in the dim light. due to the little holes in the pattern design of the wood you could still make out his face and sharp jaw.

your heart was pounding and all you could smell was him. he smelled of a wood smell. very masculine.

you looked around you and noticed it was just you and levi. of course it was that way, confessionals were deemed secret and the information should be kept private. very good.

“please my daughter, state your name. what seems to be weighing you down?”

“oh, yes. my name is y/n i-”

“beautiful name,” he interrupted.

your eyes widened and you could make out his light smile turning more down to him playing with the beads of the rosary. his eyes glossing over each piece of jewel.

“thank you. anyways, i have been having thoughts.”

“thoughts?” he asked again, sitting up more this time and having his ear pressed closer to your side.

“yes, thoughts. sinful thoughts.”

“please, explain these thoughts to me in full detail. be very specific.” in that moment he changed. his eyes became slits and his smile was now a smirk, thumb rubbing his chin in thought. “i’m listening little one.”

“yes, right. so the thoughts are dirty thoughts. it’s about men and how i feel about them.”

“go on,” his voice was deep.

you sighed, he probably thought you were a monster. “i dream almost every night about men having sex with me. i dream about them touching me, down there,” you inhale, “about them pounding inside me that i can’t even scream anymore. them licking my nipples to down on my clit, flicking it back and forth, taking me right then and there. then their slithering tongues go deep inside me, entering in and out without any questions asked. i dream about their cocks going inside me, how their cum would glisten on the outside and peak up from excitement. how their veins would look. god it looks so delicious i want to put my whole mouth around it. i want to lick it up and down and never stop, i want to suck it and drink his milk whole, not letting a drop be wasted. i want him inside me, pounding inside me nonstop. i want it on my bed, on the table, in the bath, everywhere, even in church! i want him to slap me, choke me, whatever he wants but just don’t stop. i am filled with this desire, this unstoppable passion. when i think of this i then go and touch myself.”

levi nodded. his eyes that were on his rosary finally looked at you and you realized that the whole speech you gave his eyes were looking into your eyes. deep in your eyes. you felt embarrassed. “i know i should be ashamed.” you brushed him away, bashful.

“no, these are the thoughts of us imperfect humans. even myself, i get that way.”

“you do?”

levi nodded, “yes my love. i desire the touch of a woman too.”

“i thought you were perfect.”

“nobody is perfect except God, little one. we are all just sinners waiting to become devils.”

the air was quiet, “i’m sorry you feel that way sometimes. i know with you, you can never marry nor have relations. that must be difficult.”

he just chuckled, licking his lips. “enough about me. tell me more. remember i said be specific. tell me, what do you do when you touch yourself?”

the air felt different this time. “well,” you started. you didn’t know why but your hands were starting to trail lower. “i go to my room and lock my door. when i lay down on my bed, i discard my panties and open my legs wide. so wide i can feel the cool air go and make me sensitive.”

“go on,” he ordered. you heard him unzip something and the sound of skin slapping. was he? “yes, what else.”

“i imagine what i told you, yes. as i think about those thoughts my hand goes to my nipples. playing and flicking them. i even wet my fingers to wet the bud. it gets hard and makes me feel so good but i need more.”

“yes,” levi moaned out.

“yes,” you groaned too as your hands were traveling to your panties at this exact moment. you pulled your panties to the side and were playing with your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves back and forth and in circles. your legs were starting to shake.

“i then lick my fingers again, getting them nice and wet and start to go further down. i go open up my folds and play with my clit. i flick it slowly at first then hard back and forth. it feels like a delicious fire burning sensation building up within me. like a dam waiting to be broken. and once it is all wet and gushing with need, i then stick my finger inside.” in that moment you did exactly that. you stuck a finger inside and pushed it back and forward.

“i finger myself steady at first, then i add more fingers and go faster and faster. my end is spilling everything and it is gushing all over my sheets. the dam has been broken and now the floodgates part.”

you could hear levi stifle a groan as his hands were moving up and down his shaft. you peeked through the confessional and could see his legs wide with his thick cock. his hands wrapped around it moving up and down. while you were standing, knees together with a finger inside you.

you heard levi getting wetter and wetter. it was slick. you were practically drooling seeing father levi like this and in shock. shocked because you thought he was a man of faith. you never thought you would be doing this of all days. levi grunted, “i have seen you before, my little one. i have noticed the way you walk, talk, how engaged you are in the lord. how you beg for mercy. how you get on your knees. the way you smell,” you heard the priest inhale and exhale. “god forgive me for what i am about to do,” he told himself rather than you. “i couldn’t get you out of my mind, lord help me. you possessed my inner spirit, haunting me to be controlled by the devil himself and god do i try, did i try.”

“wh-what are you saying?” your mouth was shaped into an o. surprised to hear his inner thoughts. “you noticed me?”

“no matter what i did. what i do. i ask god to stop making me have these thoughts. the thoughts to ravage you like a wild beast.” levi practically growled.

you could tell in the dim light the priest fell to his knees.

“father god, please help me for i am about to sin. please excuse me for you have put a siren in my path. i must taste her, feel her. i don’t know any other way. why must you torment me? there is no other way, i must have her, she is mine. please god forgive me.”

what was he about to do?

all of a sudden, the window to the confessional opened up, “my child, you have done wrong. i must be able to extinguish the fire within you. i am the only one who can.”

you could make out his handsome features. his eye was scarred and only made him more attractive. maybe he was right. it’s not that you needed him to take out the fire within you, you wanted him to, more than anything.

“yes, i’ll do whatever you say father.” you looked up at him, innocently.

“good, my beautiful angel,” his fingers caressed your chin. you noticed him inhaling your scent, eyes rolling back. his face inched close so that his lips were now on top of yours. it was sweet at first, kisses upon kisses. then he deepened the kiss, mouth getting wider for each open mouthed kiss. it was like war, a war against god and the devil. two imperfect people. levi grabbed the back of your head to get closer to your lips. teeth gnashing, tongue diving, you felt your head spinning. you grabbed onto his cloak to become steady. you knew he must have done this before. passion overwhelmed you both, it became embers in your soul. the kiss was your high, making you loopy and pleading for him to fuck you already.

“i need you.” your eyes begged.

he helped you to get on your knees and you heard a zip of his pants. he stuck out his cock, right in front of your face, through the confessional window.

“go ahead, beautiful, touch it.” it was limp but still a good size. the color, the thickness, it all made you want to touch it, lick it, worship it.

you wrapped your hands around his shaft and started doing motions up and down. his cock was getting stiffer by the minute and even precum was dribbled at the tip.

without even to levi’s knowledge you dipped your lips to the precum and licked that delicious cream. at that moment you knew who’s side you were on and it didn’t matter if you were thrown into the fiery pits of hell, you would go with open arms for this cock.

levi’s eyes widened at your action and hummed. “fuck, that feels good, keep doing that.”

you nodded. you squeezed tighter around his dick and spat on it to lube it up.

levi moaned, seeing your flushed self on your knees for him. here you were all for him. eyes looking up between thick lashes as you never broke eye contact, neither did he.

you started to lick his hole, flickering your tongue. he groaned and grunted, hands placed on your head.

you smirked as your tongue dragged slowly from his balls to his tip.

“fuck me,” he breathed out, lightly grinding his hips.

you started at his pubes and skin above his groin and noticed veins there like muscle. that made you want to fuck him harder. you were so turned on.

you continued licking while also giving him a handjob. his brow was furrowed and creating a bit of sweat above the brow.

you delved back and gently teased his ball sack, wanting to feel every inch of him.

“holy god, good job my child.”

your left hand slowly delved lower on yourself. you collected his seed from his cock and wanted it mixed with your juices. you went lower and lower and finally reached your pussy. you fingered yourself 2 fingers. mixing both fluids. it made you hitch a breath.

your mouth all of sudden opened wide and wrapped fully around levi’s erect cock. it was glorious. levi couldn’t get enough. seeing you fully wrapped around him, your mouth full of his cock, it made him want to thank god that you were born.

he couldn’t control the urge any longer and became the devil himself.

“just like that,” he grabbed the back of your head and made you choke and gag on his shaft. you gurgled his cum, it all laying at the base of his dick.

you started gurgling as levi was relentless.

“hmmm, you taste so fuckin good.” you praised him. “please give me your dick, please. i need it.”

“you like begging? you dumb, inoccent child. you want to be begged to be fucked?”

you nodded and whined, “please-”

you were cut off by levi lifting his leg against the ledge and pistoning his hip. his dick was fucking your mouth. he used you as a hole.

“that’s it, wider love. take me all in, good girl.”

your eyes were starting to cross from how delicious he was and big, “so wide…” tears pooled in your eyes. your eyebrows becoming downturned in innocence and submissiveness. “i give myself to you father.”

“good girl,” he went so far that your nose met with his dark pubes. he stayed there for a minute, loving the way you gagged. “that’s it.”

you had to control your breathing and breathe through your nose.

he exited out of you and you found your breath again, heaving. your fingers entered inside you at a faster pace. your squelching was becoming louder.

“shit,” levi uttered as he started to jack himself off. “open.”

it was an order. you found your g-spot and pumped your fingers inside you as if your life depended on it. you opened your mouth wide and there levi cummed inside your mouth. it was a lot. heavy white loads dripping inside your cavity.

“swallow,” he whispered, bending over to your face, biting your ear and licking your neck.

you gulped it all down and held your mouth open, already wanting more. your tongue was seeped out, your mouth used. you stood there stupid silly, pussy dripping but not reached an orgasm yet.

“look at you, almost looking like a whore.” he grabbed your chin, licking it, sucking your lips wanting to taste himself. he bit your neck.

“but, what about me?”

“come this way, child. i must purify you, in front of the lord.

it was the auditorium room. the area where prayers and lectures were given. where the bible was read and god was at.

it was the room where the priest was going to fuck you.

inside were many booths. a stage and behind the stage was a colored stained glass of the cross.

levi led you up the stage and you noticed how magical it was.

“confess your sins, child.”

you went on your knees in front of him. eyes switching from his eyes to his bulge, it was already growing again.

“i confess i want to fuck.” you clasp your hands together, god as your witness in front of the cross. the multi colored rainbow light danced on your face, lighting your eyes, giving you a halo effect. levi knew at that moment you were no human. no you were an angel in disguise, placed on this wretched earth. so for that, fucking you sensless was no sin it was a blessing.

“who do you want to fuck?” levi inched closer, hands carressing your face.

“you, father.” your lips pushed out, only 2 words.

“i know you do not lie. i shall purify you with holy water to take your sins away.”

levi grabbed some holy water and doused a bit on your head. it dripped down to your dress, tightening the fabric and hardening your nipples. levi’s breath hitched and you opened your eyes to see his eyes peeled to your nipples. your white dress was becoming sheer and the color of your areola showed through. your dress was sticking to your skin.

“god,” levi bit his fist.

you got some holy water and pushed it around your tits. the sound of the water and fabric making squelching sounds and your boobs jiggled and swished like waves. bouncing with each massage you gave them.

you looked ahead of you, right in front of your eyes levi’s bulge getting bigger, his trousers getting tighter. his eyes never left your breasts, in fact he didn’t even blink, he never wanted to look away.

“in the name of the son,” he poured water. “father,” he poured more on your head, “and holy spirit.” he put the cup near his lips, took a sip and stepped closer to you. he opened your mouth, his thumb pressing on top of your tongue. your head went back as levi spat the holy water in your mouth. you took it all in your wide mouth. levi dripped his drool inside, wanting you to have every piece of him. he spat in your mouth and you licked it all in, licking your lips.

“fuck me,” levi growled as he picked you up. your body laying against over his shoulders and he dropped you onto a table for all the priests and holy people. it was in front of the cross, right against it. jesus was staring right at you. with disgust or pity or passion you didn’t know but in that moment you didn’t care, he was a figment of your imagination in that split second.

levi laid your back against the wood table. boobs bouncing with each movement.

“i can’t take this torture anymore. i must have that pussy.” he pounded the table, creating a loud thunder in the room.

“what if someone were to come in?”

levi kissed the side of your face, inhaled your scent and started peeling your dress off your shoulders, “let them. let them see me fucking an angel of god.”

you groaned as levi took both your hands and lifted them up like if you were on a stake. hands bound together he wrapped his rosary around your hands. you were cuffed. they were tight around your wrist. “you are all mine. and i’m going to fuck you until you can see heaven.” he promised.

you held your legs tightly together, already wet. levi licked his lips and slipped your dress showing your breasts. they popped out and were displayed in the cool air. levi breathed against the nipples and gently tickled them. they peaked out and levi rolled the bud in between his finger and thumb.

“beautiful, like a saint. like an idol to worship.” he continued playing with them, entranced. his mouth then dove in, eating them like a beast. his tongue flicked against them, moaning loud, as if holding something in for a long time. he hummed as his lips wrapped around one then the other, licking them and slobbering on them.

you jerked back and forth, groaning. hips thrusting to feel some sort of friction against your cunt. you couldn’t touch yourself or him because they were held back by a rosary. “god, levi i need you.”

“patience is one of the fruits of the spirit my dear. patience.” he smiled. he tickled your nipples for the last time.

he grabbed your white dress, needing you now and ripped the material. ripped it right in the middle as it pooled around your ankles. he swiftly flung it away and there you laid for him, like a meal. like jesus last meal. your breasts were perked up and your legs were held together, shy.

“let me see, baby.” he groaned, his voice deep as he parted your legs with his leg. “open wide for me so i can see heaven’s gate.”

you looked to the side and opened up your legs as wide as you could go.

levi exhaled. there in front of him was the impossible. it was the forbidden fruit. you were the forbidden fruit. your juicy pussy was glistening wet. your folds only being held together by slick, sticking cream. you closed it in and out. your clit was swollen and looked delicious to levi.

levi knelt to your opening and sniffed your cunt. “ripe and ready.” he grabbed more holy water and spat some of it on your sensitive pussy.

you moaned as levi took off his clothes, leaving him naked. “i’m going to make you feel so good.” he huskily said.

his tip tapped your cunt, ready for entrance and slowly he dipped inside you. inch by inch his cock filled you up.

“oh my god!” you shouted, already shaking from being filled up. it felt like heaven. his cock felt like salvation. “right there.”

levi couldn’t help it any longer. he didn’t go slow paced like a normal person would. no he needed you. the passion. the thoughts and prayers. the long nights filled with unholy visions. “god forgive me.” he held your hands steady and in a moment started pulling in and out of you. pistoning in and out. your mouth was wide open, eyes crossed as his cock dragged itself.

levi was fucking you like a wild animal. needing to feel your tightness and you needing to feel full.

you tried to hold in your cries but you couldn’t. your head hung back in a loud moan. tears were pooling around your eyes. levi was fucking you silly. you couldn't remember a single thing and didn’t want to feel anything else except this feeling. feeling stuffed.

“levi, fuck.” you bounced up and down, breasts clapping from each hump he pounded inside you. cum was dripping down between your ass.

drool was slipping from the side of your mouth. you were a gurgling mess and the tears mixed with your spit.

“right there. do you like how this feels, you dirty girl? would god be pleased with how much you beg for this cock. baptized in my cum?”

you gave a goofy smile, feeling your pussy tighten around his cock. “right there please. please please!” you begged. you could feel his cock tapping your g-spot.

“you like this? right there? how good does it feel? how many times have you wanted this?”

“all my life! everyday!” your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“you would worship this cock wouldn't you?”

you nodded as levi went even faster and further. cum collecting at the base of his cock. the noise from his cock drenched in your pussy, squelching as it echoed.

you looked to your side to see jesus and all of the eyes of the angels on you. it made you get even more turned on.

“levi, i’m gonna cum!”

levi hunched over you and brought your left nipple in his mouth and he pounded inside you relentlessly. over and over, nonstop. you tried to scream but you couldn’t. your scream was clouded and silent except for the veins protruding from your neck.

1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2, thats how the pace went. back and forth, in and out.

“oh my god,” you cried. levi’s hips went closer to your groin. skin to skin.

“right there,” you held him against you, milking him for all what he was worth. finally, you came, crying and whining. levi did too at that moment. his cum erupting like the red sea.

he humped a little to make sure you got all his seed.

it dripped inside you. your legs were shaking and you bit your lip in satisfaction, drool seeping out the side of your mouth.

“you dumb little whore,” levi chuckled darkly as he kissed you again. breathing harshly in your ear. “we shall keep doing this over and over in hell.”

you kissed back and bit levi’s lips, “well in that case it won’t be so much like hell, it’ll be more like heaven.”

taglist: @sailewhoremoon, @luvkun4, @neonlavander, @moonbabysstuff, @smellsliketequila, @auds-dal19

#cry baby *🧸*#levi smut #attack on titan smut #levi ackerman smut #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi #levi ackerman x you #aot smut #aot x you #levi x y/n #aot x fem!reader #attack on titan x female reader #levi ackerman x y/n

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Note

Hey hey! I've read your rules like 3 times and I think this is okay, but I'm really sorry if I missed something! Self aware Leona, Azul, and Jamil with being the favorite specifically because the reader can relate to their trauma in a way?

Eg, having a golden child sibling (Leona), having been bullied (Azul), or essentially being parentified (Jamil)

I don't think this counts under the trauma dumping rule, but again, I'm sorry if it does, or even if it's on thin ice!

It’s (at least in my eyes) not exactly trauma dumping but you are right with it being on thin ice. Some authors are a bit more sensitive than others after all. Also, I have no siblings so.. uh… I tried my best with Leona.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, imprisonment, murder, unhealthy relationship, family problems, obsession, stalking, manipulation

Leona Kingscholar/Azul Ashengrotto/Jamil Viper-Player is able to relate to their problems

Oh so you also have a sibling? Never heard of the higher power of this world ever having one

With Sunset Savanna being more relaxed but still very respectfull when it comes to you he isn’t going mad over new things he learns about you (just sometimes having that happy, bubbly feeling in his chest… gross… tell him more!)

But then his Overblot happened and… yeah… you two had a talk

Would you look at that? Even otherworldly beings can have that totally healthy and absolutely not toxic comparison to their supposedly better part of their family

Leona also already stalking… uh pardon. I meant sleeping everywhere you are doesn’t help either

But now your presence is even more like warm sunlight on his skin for him

So let’s set the scene, you are walking through the garden of the school and suddenly somone pulls you into the shade of the tree just to lay their head on your lap and sleep once more

And I am not talking about a ten minutes lap… I’m talking about a four hour thingy

But hey, the air is warm, the dorm leader who declared you his pillow hair is soft like a slinghtly heavy, warm blanket and you can’t remember when you had the last time more than a few hours rest

And boom! You wake up in his room

Oh no no no. This isn’t some sort of yandere fan fic… ha…haha… but the door is unlocked and nothing else but Leona clutching onto your side in his sleep is holding you back

What did you expect? A cage in his room with you in it? Do you even know how hard it is to take care of someone imprisoned whilst having to hide that you are the person who kidnapped them?

But that doesn't mean he won’t use other means to mentally chain you to him

Always using his brother to gain your sympathy, saying that you don’t care about him…

Before you know it you are once more his pillow, combing through his hair with your fingers

But wait, isn’t he smiling? Nah, he was just disappointed a second ago…

Prepare for the tears

No joke, this poor octopus will break down the second he hears you have been bullied like he was

Azul is already… special when it comes to you and even hearing that someone called you once a not-so-nice name will make him break down

And later on burn with passion to make a deal that is totally not shady and not life-ruining with them

Please tell him that it’s alright

That was all in the past and you are now ready to move on and just live life the good way

Also, can you hug him? For him? For me?

What can I say, after you defeated his overblot form and had that talk he started to treat you like you were made out of glass

Not like it was much better before but… I don’t know… he just does the coodeling on a whole other level

Before this Flozd liked to squeeze you and Jade to be a well-meaning meneace in your life

Over those bone crushing and mind grinding times, you are going to be well protected until you feel like you are an antique in a Museum

And if someone dares to do something to you (or rather, what Azul understands under that) then whoopsy! They are suddenly gone

No need to visit the beach any time soon. That sea foam looks suspicious…

But believe me when I tell you that you will eat the best food you ever tasted in your life, for free!

You are more to Azul than just an allknowing scholar. You are someone who understands him and he will be damned if he lets anyone treat you less than with utmost care ever again!

Cue to Medusa popping up and getting defeated

But imagine the shock on Jamil's usual calculating face when he saw you laying a cold towel on his head just when he woke up

Why was the Overseer teding to him? A mere servant who even betrayed his own master??!

He gets even more confused when you insist on helping him after Kalim is up to his usual doings

To be honest, he is thankful

He was a bit shaky on those legs after using so much magic and you helping him is something he appreciates

But this raises the question, why do you seem so experienced in taking care of someone and helping them as well?

Oh no, Jamil won’t be so tactless to just ask but he will watch you… right after he took care of the silk Kalim ordered

Jamil has admired you his entire life. An otherworldly being who even made the Sorcerer of Sands look up into the sky and search for your wisdom among the stars… how fascinating!

And what power you must posess! You were even able to enter his world-Jamil Viper, a student that doesn’t know you woke up without knowing how you got here one fateful day

After he gets better he is dead set on repaying you (no, he did not think about joining Octavinelle)

It’s just… you were so warm… and so kind… and so worryingly good at taking care of another person…

Wait… did he just become your own personal Kalim??!

This is also what made him finally questioning you about this and… safe to say his carefully crafted mask slipped from his face and smashed on the floor

Someone dared to make the Overseer take care of them??!

The aftermath to that is him becoming your personal servant. Kalim can get poisoned for all he cares. Now you are the important one here… in that room with the many locks.

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snowbellewells · 4 days

Text

CSSNS23 Fic Update: "Carolina Moon" Chapter Five

Sheesh, so much for getting back to weekly updates! I don't know what else to do but apologize folks, and to say thank you for hanging in there with me if you're still patiently reading this story despite my lack of speed. Please enjoy the newest chapter - the threat is ramping up, but so is Killian's determination to help keep Emma safe!

Thank you so, so, SO much for @xarandomdreamx and her wonderful beta skills - she had a job fixing all the times I switched tenses this go 'round!

And continued thanks to @eastwesthomeisbest for this cover art that I'm thrilled by all over again each time I post a new chapter!!

Read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Five: Unwanted Reunion and New Resolve

Killian Jones’ mind was everywhere but on the shipping manifests and cost reports he was attempting to look over in his small office down at the docks. Paperwork of that nature was his least favorite part of being the boss, and a tedious chore at the best of times, but with all he had witnessed the night before - Emma trembling in his arms, shaking from the sapping strength of her visions - he could find little space in his brain for inventory and figures. The sunlight glinting off the water out the window to his left and the gentle sound of the waves striking the moorings of the pier always tried to entice him from his desk on mornings he had to take alone to put the business in order, but with his concentration already severely fractured, he was making little to no headway. He’d dropped Emma off by her car at the gallery that morning, reluctantly aware that he had to give her a bit of space, and figuring that in the middle of town in broad daylight was the best time to do so and still retain his own peace of mind. He’d spent the night on her couch - against her protests that she sleep there instead - but all had been quiet, no signs of trouble. She’d planned to go to the diner to grab breakfast, then work for a few hours, and he’d pick her up that evening when they’d both finished for the day.

With a growl of frustration, Killian pushed his chair back and reclined in it, raking a hand through his dark hair, surely making it stand on end, and squeezing his eyes closed to block all the images rushing through, images that were already inside his head. He wanted to yell, to hit something - mostly his own younger self. How had they all been so blind and callous? Was this what Emma had always been dealing with? Even as a child? Rose would have known, would have been a support, a respite for Emma in the storm the rest of her life must have been. His baby sister, whom he’d doted on, but clearly not paid careful enough attention to, would have done nothing less. But when she was snatched away, and Emma blamed for the loss, despite what she had risked in order to help, it was just too late, the storm had surged back to surround her, raging and buffeting her more cruelly than ever. Though he had wondered briefly about the marks he could see that morning, and what had kept Emma from meeting Rose the night before, he had been too young and blind, too lost in his own grief and family concerns to reach out to her as he saw now he should have done. She had lost the only anchor in the maelstrom she had ever possessed, and he hadn’t bothered to toss her a lifeline. Leaning forward again, elbows planted on his cluttered desk, Killian rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully for a moment, trying to refocus on what he could do now to help her and show he wanted to ease her burden - would always, always, be at her side from now on, if she would allow it. Emma had said, when her defenses were still down and he had held her close, trying to imbue any bit of strength he could, that Rose wasn’t the only one - that there had been other victims.

Galvanized with sudden inspiration, he pushed his bookkeeping aside in a messy heap to one corner of his desk and quickly opened a new window on his laptop. If he wasn’t going to be able to focus on his own work, he might as well accomplish something worthwhile, something he could take to Emma as proof of how fully he took her at her word - a starting point for their inquiry. His eyes began to scan lines of text in rapid fascination - both amazed and appalled at the sheer amount of information at one’s fingertips once he chose to look, and at the horrifying reality of there being so much to be found.

He was soon fully engaged in the task, his other concerns slipping away with the minutes that ticked by until he could call it a day, and it suddenly felt as if he had managed some worthwhile work after all. Perhaps not for Jones Shipping Ltd., but important all the same. He tried not to picture the scoff and disappointed shake of the head his father would have given at that; Brennan Jones did nothing if not for the furtherance of their name and holdings, and his imagination’s echoes of the sharp retort that would be on his mother’s lips did no good either.

All the same, he was anxious to show Emma what he had turned up, and in only a couple hours’ searching. It wouldn’t be what one might call pleasant dinner conversation - certainly not what he’d usually entertain as fit for a second date - was he crazy to consider it as such? He felt Emma would want to know all the same. It was proof that what she had seen the night before, horrifying as it must have been, was hardly mistaken or imagined. And it was a first stop toward finally uncovering the truth after all this time. Emma deserved to be set free at long last - they all did.

When it finally neared five o’clock, Killian had never locked up his office and left work so quickly. He headed straight for the town square and those mesmerizing green eyes he was eager to feel upon him again. He had been missing them for longer than he’d ever fully realized.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

The morning after intense visions Emma always felt a bit hazy, slightly dazed and headache-y, almost as though suffering from a mental hangover of sorts, from exerting such focus and emotion. That morning was no different, but she shuffled gingerly through her usual routine as always, wincing but not about to waste time recouping her strength if she still hoped to open for business as planned.

By the time she had returned to the gallery, a shocking amount of coffee in her system and a satisfyingly crisp and greasy bacon sandwich from the local diner in her stomach, she already felt more herself. She had called the young lady, Violet Clemens back and hired her after all. She was going to need help, and the sale she had already made - to Ruby Jones, of all people! - had boosted her confidence. She might as well sink everything into this; if she went down, she would go down swinging with all she had.

Violet had joined her in the shop just after 12:30, and they had spent a cheerful couple of hours putting the last items and displays in place. The other woman had proven a real asset already: agreeable, quick, and a good eye to boot. She was pleasant company and a worthy distraction. Emma was already exceedingly glad of her presence.

It was just half past three when Emma paused to stretch, catch her breath, and survey their progress with a proud smile. There really wasn’t too much left after Killian’s help the previous day, and all that she and her new employee had just accomplished. Smiling broadly, she thanked Violet once more, and got them both a cold water bottle from the small fridge she’d had Killian’s help in nestling on the shelf under the counter. They were due a cool drink and a moment’s sit down, she felt sure.

While they were still sipping their drinks perched on the tall stools she’d placed behind the counter, the bell above the shop door jangled merrily to announce the arrival of Mayor Walsh Ozman with his wide, charming-the-public smile. Emma stood and moved forward to greet her old acquaintance, asking what they could do for him, even though she was privately amused at how well the public servant schtick seemed to suit him. She would have never imagined that the unhappy, mean-spirited boy of their youth would be wearing that wide smile and winning local elections when they all grew up. Then again, she couldn’t have pictured much for her future either, not back then. Still, she mused curiously before returning her attention to Walsh’s reply, she would have to ask Killian if it was an election year and if Mayor Ozman was trying to win over these two newcomers to his town by turning on the charm.

As it turned out, the mayor was also hoping to make an early purchase - it seemed that he and his wife were quite close to their 15th anniversary, and having lived in Storybrooke all that time, he was anxious to shop for a gift somewhere completely unknown to her. He genuinely did want to offer any help he could as a town representative, but if he could find the right anniversary present at the same time, he would be incredibly grateful.

Violet happily began to show him around the shop, directing his attention to various framed photographs which might work especially well as romantic gifts - the close-up bud of a red rose, two swallows entwined in flight, a couple’s joined hands in silhouette against a sunset’s orange and gold. Not only that, but she kept up a lively patter of information that proved just what a sponge she had been for all of the information Emma had told her so far about her process, materials, and subject matter. Violet answered the mayor’s questions nearly as well as Emma herself could have done, and it pleased Emma more than she could say, thinking that not only had she helped someone in need of a job, but that she had managed to find someone with the pep and sweetness they needed out front, all the engaging personality she herself often fought to project, as well as a genuine interest in the art itself.

By the time Violet had shown Walsh all the way around the store cheerily, the mayor had a selected photo in hand once they returned to the counter and Emma was marvelling at how lucky she had been to find such a natural saleswoman along with all of Violet’s other positive traits. The red rose picture Walsh had selected seemed a touch obvious, but then, who was she to judge? She had chosen it to crop and display as she had because its blatant appeal almost guaranteed it would sell. They weren’t even officially open yet, and this was her second painting sold. If this could keep up, she might not have as hard a road making her gallery succeed as she had anticipated.

As she rang up the purchase and ran the mayor’s card, Violet carefully and efficiently wrapped the frame as she had been shown. Walsh grinned broadly the whole time as her new assistant prattled on. “You’ve really saved me a long, drawn out search with this, ladies. And Marjorie will love it too. Plus, it was a chance to keep business local. Your gallery is going to be a great addition for Storybrooke, just wait and see.”

“I certainly hope so,” Emma replied, a pleasantly warm glow of pride in her chest as she did so.

“You just give me a call if there’s anything I can do to help out,” he reminded again as he headed out the door with a wave. “It is part of my job, after all.”

When he was gone, Emma found that they really had accomplished nearly all that she had planned for the day. With heartfelt gratitude, she sent Violet off a bit early, promising that she was just going to lock up and make an early night of it herself as well. No need to tell the younger woman that she was going to be picked up at five like a kid after daycare for her own safety.

Violet hadn’t been gone but a few minutes before Emma had all in order and was gathering her things to leave, true to her word. She made sure the lights were out in the back office, that all was in its proper place, and was just bending to gather her things from under the counter, when she heard the door open once more, its bell chiming in announcement. Standing straight again, she had begun to speak before even seeing the person who had entered. “I’m sorry, but we’re not open for business yet. I was just leaving for the day, and - “ but the rest of her polite dismissal died on her tongue when she recognized the person who had arrived - a face she had hoped never to see again.

“Well, seeing as I’m already here, you’ll just have to make an exception, won’t you?” The question was taut and dangerous, hardly a question at all, though phrased as such. Every nerve in Emma’s body stood on end in response. Her limbs took on the same sort of wary motionlessness they had years ago, like a rabbit going statue-still in hopes of evading a predator’s notice, yet ready to dart away the moment an opening appeared.

Vic Franken hadn’t darkened her path again after she’d paid him off for her safety and peace of mind once he found her in Boston. Emma had hoped that fragile truce and space would hold, despite his breach of parole, but her former “guardian” never had been particularly wise, and he was eerily apt to return to what he knew, what was easiest, particularly when he was desperate. Emma wet her lips nervously and attempted to keep breathing calmly, steadily, focused on taking in any weakness she might be able to use to her own benefit. The past six or seven years had not been kind to him by the looks of it. Always tall and wiry, Franken appeared almost unhealthily gaunt, with dark shadows under eyes that were still as sharp and wild, darting quickly about the gallery space, to her, and back again. His clothes were worn and wrinkled, his hair stood on end in places, and he was moving closer, coming to stand just on the other side of the counter - much nearer than Emma could handle without her knees going a bit watery in spite of the fact that she wasn’t 13 anymore and she had every right to order him out of her place of business, whether he thought so or not.

“You s-shouldn’t be here,” she managed to say coolly, her voice only quavering slightly, for which she was grateful. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, intending to look serious, but also hoping to hold herself together as best she could.

“Damn it!” he howled, the loud exclamation ringing in the air between them as his large hand slammed down on the counter, rattling the surface with a bang, and causing Emma to shrink backward against her best effort to hold her ground. “You aren’t so high and mighty that you can just shove me out! I put a roof over you head, and you owe me for it! I’m not leaving ‘til I’m good an’ ready!”

At that, Emma regained herself through sheer outrage alone. This monster had made her childhood miserable, and she wasn’t about to have him barge in and take anything else from her. Standing taller and tipping her chin up to face him squarely, Emma’s spine returned to her after the shock of his appearance, while her hand scrambled carefully through her things beneath the countertop. She hoped Franken wouldn’t notice what she was doing before she could lay hands on the pocketknife she knew was somewhere in her purse. Granted, that wasn’t much of a weapon, but she wasn’t going to face him without any sort of defense - not ever again.

An eerie sort of calm washed over the man for a moment then, as if he and Emma were locked in a stalemate and her facing him steadily had given him pause. His exacting gaze continued to take in the large main room of her shop, and Emma held her breath, finally feeling her fingertips graze the handle she was searching for at the bottom of her purse. She knew better than to drop her guard; his quiet hesitation was like a hurricane’s eye, the calm before the gale began to batter and howl once more. Grasping her prize, Emma pulled it free and flicked it open, not wanting to show her hand too soon and yield the element of surprise if she had to wield it.

As Franken returned his focus to her, an unnatural almost proud look crossed his features, as out of place as it was, particularly when an attempt at some sort of paternal smile twisted his visage. “Seems like you’ve done alright for yourself since I saw you last, Emma,” he finally murmured in a cajoling tone.

She snorted; regardless of how dangerous it might be to antagonize him, she couldn’t even pretend they were on terms to make friendly small talk. “If I am doing well, it’s no thanks to you,” she retorted bitterly.

Franken’s nostrils flared as he reeled back to his full height, the calm attempt at appealing to her good side shattered in an instant. “Ungrateful wench!” he hollered, eyes bulging wide as he swung a hand wildly, catching the edge of a large, framed portrait on the wall behind him and knocking it to the floor, where it crashed on its face and sent glass shattering outward in a wide spray. “After I took you in, fed you, clothed you, saw that you had a roof over your head? Now you’re too good to return the favor?”

Emma gasped in dismay at the largest piece in her gallery’s fall and destruction, but was quick enough to dodge his flailing hand when Franken reached out in an attempt to grab her shoulder and haul her close. She was just fast enough to evade him, thankfully. She might be fully grown now instead of a scrawny, underfed kid, but she still didn’t need to find out what he would do if he got a good hold on her.

“Took me in?” she spat back, practically seething in anger that he would dare pretend he had actually provided any sort of genuine care. “Is that what you did?” Shaking her head in disbelief, Emma finally raised the small blade before her, as if warning him to keep his distance, even if there wasn’t much more space behind the counter for her to put between them. “Which part am I supposed to be grateful for, hmm?” she barrelled on, now that the gates were open, her words kept spilling out. “The beatings that left me so sore I could barely sit or walk for days afterward? The hours I spent locked in the pitch dark cellar as punishment for my demons? The shame and fear you made sure I never forgot from the moment I crossed the threshold of your house until the day I got away from it?” The small pocket knife wavered along with her hand, and her vision blurred with hot tears of frustration, but Emma didn’t falter. “Tell me what exactly I should be thanking you for?”

With a wild growl, he whirled away from her, grabbing frames from their hooks and hurling them against the walls or to the floor, knocking a large easel to the ground and smashing his foot through the canvas print it had held. He was on as much a tear as a toddler having a fit, but imminently more dangerous. Rounding on her again, his eyes were wild, and if possible, Emma would have sworn he was foaming at the mouth.

It was then, in desperation to save the work he hadn’t already destroyed, that she acted without thinking clearly and charged out from behind the counter she had carefully kept between them - so focused on making him leave that she left herself vulnerable by coming too close. “Get out!” Emma cried, mindless of his larger build and out of control demeanor; the threat he posed flying from her head as her work - the pictures she’d poured her heart and soul into, and the inventory she needed to keep her business afloat - clattered to the ground, breaking and being trashed before her eyes. She might still have the small blade gripped in her sweaty fingers, but she wasn’t thinking about defense as much as ridding herself of his presence before he destroyed her means of livelihood. “You have no right to anything from me! You need to get out of here before I call the police and tell them you’re in town!”

Franken whirled from the far wall where he’d been wreaking havoc and instead turned towards her seething with unrestrained rage. There were many times in her years growing up when Emma had feared that this man was unstable; dangerously obsessed with her “unholy” visions and driving them from her by any means necessary, and that his volatile fanaticism would injure her beyond what she could heal from or survive. Emma had spent far longer than was fair, wasted too much of her life, waiting to be out from under his thumb, no longer catching her breath and ducking a fist sure to fly or a bruising belt buckle if she said too much or let the wrong words slip. It had been long enough now though that she wasn’t guarding every thought and impulse, and she didn’t stop to second guess or recognize the danger as she took her stand. Willing to defend this little space she’d made for herself, even if it meant facing the monster from her past head-on and all alone.

The violence that twinkled maliciously in Franken’s deep, dark gaze should have been a warning, but Emma was too riled up and determined that this time she wasn’t backing down, wasn’t letting this pathetic excuse for a man take anything more from her. Where a younger, more wary version of herself would have shrunk back and put space between them, Emma instead pressed forward capitalizing on the man’s momentary shock. She wasn’t sure what she intended to try next if he didn’t move, but her body seemed determined to herd him out the door, with or without the full thought and cooperation of her racing brain.

Barely a moment’s warning, where a low, evil chuckle rumbled from his throat, evidencing anything but humor, was the only signal Emma got, and the next thing she knew, Franken had struck so fast she didn’t even see the movement - like a copperhead concealed in dank marsh water, having already bitten a person before one even knew it was there. Her head whipped to the side with the impact of his fist shooting out and making contact, leaving her ears ringing and her lungs gasping for air.

Emma struggled to keep her feet beneath her, even as the world around her tilted sideways. A wailing inside her head like sirens brought back all the times she had fallen before this monster as a child, curled tightly in a ball to protect herself from the blows he’d rained down on her for the smallest imagined infractions or the involuntary glimpses of prescient knowledge she couldn’t help possessing - they’d been part of who she was even then, as much a her hair or eye color, and they refused to stay hidden. Emma had attempted to - for all she was worth - having immediately learned speaking of what she saw, no matter how important it might seem, only earned her more suffering and degradation.

Flailing her arms, she managed to catch the side of the counter and steady herself before she went tumbling to the floor. Franken was right there, coming for her again with his arm raised, no doubt reveling in the same sort of drunken power he had missed while the inexorable familiarity of the old, horrible pattern clutched Emma by the throat with fear.

This time she wasn’t having it. She’d fight him even if it broke every bone in her body. With a cry of pain soaked in years of suffering unheard, Emma pushed off the counter, leading with the sharp pocket knife and sheer desperation, she meant to make her own mark this time. “Leave me alone!” she bellowed, as she took her first step to meet him.

But, despite his own seeming haze of madness and unsteady mind, Vic Franken was still quick and powerful as a gator and just as mean. Much like he’d always been, he was too large a foe for her to fell unprepared and without proper defenses. His meaty paw caught her wrist with crushing strength, until her fingers were forced to release her blade and it clattered to the floor and skittered away uselessly as she felt her tendons and bones ground painfully beneath his grip.

He pulled her close to his face until their noses nearly touched, as if trying to understand why he couldn’t make her cower the way he once had. Emma could just begin to hear the blessed sound of sirens in the distance that she prayed were coming their way. Thank goodness she had shouldered the extra cost of hidden cameras and a security company who monitored their feed continuously. When he’d begun to tear her gallery apart it would have been obvious help was needed though she’d had no time to call for it.

“You think this is over?” he hissed angrily. “I’m not finished with you…far from it. You won’t be rid of me until I say so. Don’t you forget it.”

Flinging Emma away like a discarded ragdoll, she stumbled with the force of it, tripping on the debris that littered the floor and slamming back into the counter that had saved her minutes before. Franken fled out the door and was gone, and she slumped to the floor - for the moment too dizzy and aching to get up again. Trying to catch her breath and make her surroundings stop whirling around her, Emma breathed slowly, closing her eyes and allowing her head to lean groggily against the smooth, cool surface until she could gather her bearings.

The siren sounds drew nearer still, for which she was so thankful she could cry, but then she heard the door swing open once more, and she lurched frantically to attention, struggling to get her feet under her for fear that he had come back to finish her off. What she saw instead almost started her laughing hysterically, having never imagined this particular visitor’s appearance would send relief washing over her.

“Emma?” Ruby Jones’ voice was shocked and disbelieving, even concerned, all rolled into one as her heels click-clacked right across all the broken glass towards her before she crouched at her side, fingers already gingerly dabbing at the trickle of blood from the broken skin at her temple and then holding an honest-to-goodness monogrammed handkerchief to the spot. “What happened here?”

Emma reached out to still Ruby’s hand, shaking her head with as little force as possible and still wincing, “More who than what…” she managed, still trying to fully gather her wits and fighting for her speech not to sound slurred. She swallowed, wetting her lips and pressing on. “It was Franken….my old foster father…remember?” Ruby nodded, mouth and eyes both gaping wide at her. Emma sighed, “Thank - thank goodness it sounds like those sirens are close… don’t wanna tell this all more than once.”

“Vic Franken?” Ruby growled, her wide eyes narrowing. She looked for a second as if she might have clawed the man’s eyes out herself if she had been here just a little sooner. Emma again had to choke back out of place hilarity at the other woman’s defense of her. Rose would have loved it; she was just trying not to get whiplash. “What did that bastard think he was doing coming here?” Ruby snapped out.

Emma chuckled lightly, squinting against the way even that made her head hurt. Somehow Ruby’s fiery temper made her heart feel a little lighter. This nightmare was still dogging her, but the sheer absurdity of someone she’d have sworn even two days ago couldn’t stand her being ready to fight for her, lightened the dark cloud that had settled over her. Giving the former debutante a mischievous, if weary, side eye, she teased. “Whoo, Miss Ruby! That’s quite a mouth you’ve got there for a nice Southern belle! What would your Mama say?!”

Ruby rolled her eyes at the teasing with a dismissive snort, even as she let Emma grip her forearms and help her to stand again, holding on until sure she was steady. “Well, first she would have told me to walk on by and leave you where you fell, so clearly I don’t much care what she has to say.”

Emma began to nod her acknowledgement that what Ruby said was true, then quickly thought better of it at the shot of pain that lanced through her.

Ruby shrugged, offering a crooked smile. “Besides,” she added ruefully, “Mama despaired of me a long time ago.”

Emma drew in a sharp breath, a few sadly clarifying things about Killian and Rose’s sister instantly becoming clear.

“Now,” Ruby continued, red fingernail raised to point at Emma authoritatively, “you are gonna report this sorry excuse of a man so they can nail him to the wall, and then we’re gonna get you patched up, okay?”

Emma didn’t get to respond further as they were interrupted by what seemed to be the entire Storybrooke police force’s arrival just then, with a worried David Nolan leading the charge. She’d give her former defender credit. Though he looked half beside himself when he first burst through the door, his deputies flanking him, David quickly saw that the perpetrator was gone and, while she was injured and shaken, Emma was no longer in immediate danger and had someone at her side. With an almost visible effort, he reigned in his protectiveness and brought his anxiety back under stern professional control.

Turning, he began capably barking out orders to his fellow officers - not unkindly, but feeling the urgency and not at all wanting to allow Franken to escape and cause this sort of damage again. Through the buzzing that seemed to have taken up residence in her brain, Emma heard David directing a perimeter to be set up to keep Franken from getting out of town, with an APB being put out with Franken’s name and description to all possible news outlets. He also organized the coordination of his people coming in to gather evidence and block off the space outside on the walk so gawkers couldn’t make their way in and disturb anything that could aid in their search.

Though there were an overwhelming number of people swarming all about inside the shop, Emma was grateful that only David himself came over to ask a few questions of her. Ruby had led her, wordless as she had ever seen the youngest Jones sibling, over to one of the tall stools at the counter, coaxing her into gingerly sitting down, being kind enough even to avert her gaze and hold back her own questions when Emma leaned slightly over, her still-spinning head against Ruby’s side as she attempted to swallow her nausea back down her throat. Ruby just rubbed a hand across Emma’s shoulder blades gently and stood there as steady and calm as a pillar of marble.

David stooped to look into Emma’s eyes with his own careful concern as he reached them. “Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?” he asked promptly, his words clipped and tight, making the strain he was still under to remain calm and professional all too clear. Emma was fairly certain he already knew the answer anyway. If she tried to shake her head and deny his suspicions, her world would only keep spinning more frantically.

Just barely meeting his anxious stare with her eyes slitted narrowly open, she managed a half-convincing, “Calm down, Nolan. We all know I’ve had worse.”

The sheriff’s lips pressed together into a thin line, his whole expression pulled taut enough that Emma couldn’t even gauge whether anger, guilt, or fear was playing the largest role. His arms crossed firmly over his broad chest as he stood back to his full height, sensing that hovering would not make her any more agreeable, but he didn’t cease watching her, not allowing her to shut him out. “That isn’t funny,” he ground out, low enough that in the bustle around the shop only she, Ruby, and himself heard the admonishment, yet she felt chastened all the same. “You are clearly not safe, even out in the open, in broad daylight, and what if the security company hadn’t called us soon enough, if Ruby hadn’t walked in when she did? Emma, you could have been - “

Her eyes shot up to meet his savagely, knowing the rest of his sentence and not wanting it spoken aloud. Despite the ringing in her ears and rolling of her stomach, her fierce look froze the words on David’s tongue. She’d traveled so far, worked so hard to be more than the helpless, pitied victim of that man’s abuse - and she wasn’t letting him make her one again.

Before any of them could speak further, or the tension between them could fully dissipate, the door flung back on its hinges wildly as someone else rushed into her gallery. “Emma!” Killian’s unmistakable voice called out, cracking with worry on the second syllable, even as David moved aside slightly so his friend could see her for himself.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and in moments Jones was across the room and on his knees before her, reaching out as if to pull her close, then jolting back as he took in the trickle of blood and the bruising that had already begun to color the side of her face. Looking wracked with indecision, he simply held his place before her, as near as he dared, and breathed out a choked, “What happened, Swan? Are - are you alright?”

“She will be,” Ruby offered with much needed certainty from beside Emma, laying her hand on her brother’s shoulder, as if to steady him and remind them both that she was there. It was new from her - for both of them - but her typical self assurance was bolstering in the fraught moment and incredibly welcome.

Killian finally released a full breath, his forehead falling to rest upon her knee, and his fingers reflexively clutching her denim-clad leg for a moment as he trembled with relief. After a moment to gather himself, he looked up into Emma’s face from where he crouched before her, eyes swimming with unasked questions and the fear - still all too close to the surface - that he had nearly lost her.

Emma didn’t have the strength to hold back, not in that tremulous moment when she was hurt and wanted to scream at the unfairness of everything falling apart around her. She grasped his t-shirt at the shoulder, comforted by his warm solidity beneath, and ran a hand over his brow, amazed that he was there and was so intensely concerned - and that she allows herself the luxury of that - before trailing her fingers through his unruly dark hair. “It was Franken,” she murmured lowly, just wanting it all out, like poison drawn from a wound. “He was here, mostly after money, I think…” she paused. “But as you can see,” she gestured to her face, “that clearly wasn’t enough to keep him from leaving a souvenir for old times’ sake.”

She could see the angry tic in Killian’s jaw, working to restrain the fury he felt, and though his was quieter, it seemed to run even deeper and even harder to contain than David’s had before it.

At that, David broke into the moment. “Killian, why don’t you take Emma to Storybrooke General to be checked out? I can swing by there later, when all this is under control, if I have any questions that can’t wait until tomorrow.” He waved to the crime scene which her gallery had become as he spoke.

Killian’s “Aye” and terse nod were all that voiced his agreement to the sheriff’s suggestion, but he stood and offered Emma a hand; balance and support to pull herself up if she chose to take it. Ruby squeezed her hand, promising she would check on her later as well.

She wanted to argue, to say the fuss wasn’t necessary, but as she stood and then wavered unsteadily, she knew there was no point. She merely took Killian’s arm and leaned on him wordlessly without a fight. None of the three people surrounding her would let her close call be brushed aside - not this time. For now, she accepted the concern and decided she’d give herself a minute in which she didn’t have to be so strong.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

A few hours later Killian was leading Emma from the waiting room of the small local hospital, walking and as close behind her as humanly possible without getting their feet tangled and making her fall. She wanted to tell him that she’d be fine, to take her back to her car and then go on home, but the determined and independent core she had built up, the one which usually allowed her to offer those placating refrains so easily seemed irretrievably weakened. She couldn’t push him away. Where she would usually deny or ignore whatever had shaken her, Emma couldn’t this time. After all she had accomplished and how far she had traveled, after how long she had denied herself and stayed as far away as she could, it hadn’t been enough - not long enough, not far enough - her past and its monster had still found her and attacked.

So she didn’t want to need Killian Jones’ warm and steady palm at the small of her back, the comforting heat and gentle, guiding pressure easily felt through the thin material of her cotton blouse, but need it she did. “Come Lass, the truck’s over here,” he murmured, soothing and low near her ear, leaning in to speak for her ears alone as he steered her toward the corner of the lot where he had parked.

There really hadn’t been much anyone could do for the busted lip and rapidly blackening eye she was sporting, other than cautioning her to ice it often and to take aspirin as needed for the pain, but they had made sure nothing was broken in her nose, cheekbones, or jaw. She had also been cautioned, since she’d suffered some nausea at first, that if she became dizzy again or threw up, she should return for further examination. She hadn’t presented with a concussion, but one might sometimes show up later, and they wouldn’t want to miss it if so.

The doctor who had looked her over and the nurse were both concerned about sending Emma home alone; they wanted her observed and awakened every couple of hours. At Killian’s assurance that he would stay with her and do just as they suggested, however, they had relented and she had finally been released.

It wasn’t until he was helping her up into the high seat of his truck’s cab and moving to shut the door that she finally forced herself to protest - it was too much, he didn’t need to put himself out.

Killian was having none of it. He wouldn’t even let her finish, interrupting her protests in a heavy handed way she hadn’t yet seen from him. The solemnity of his vow was irrefutable when he swore that “This time, Love, you won’t be alone until that bastard is caught. Not until this is over.” His eyes burned into her like twin blue flames. “You are too precious for me to do otherwise.”

As much as the fervent emotion from him stole her breath, frustration mounted within her right alongside it. She’d spent so much of her early life beholden to one person or another, moved and driven by the whims of Fate or the system. She didn’t want to be a responsibility or a chore to anyone - not even someone honorable, who took his role as seriously as Killian. Especially not to Killian. She shook her head angrily, biting back tears. “This is stupid! I’ll just go…”

Jones didn’t even hesitate. “Then I’m going too… to the end of the Earth, if that’s where you’re headed.”

She was swiping at the errant tears that wouldn’t be held back any longer, wincing when she got too close to the tender area near her eye socket and sniffing back worse sobs as she beseeched him in last resort. “Why? Killian, why would you do that? So you can get yourself killed trying to protect me?!?”

But he merely shook his head, leaning into her space, pressing his forehead to hers and his warm breath caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to let that happen, Swan. We’ve both lost enough. I’m with you now - no matter what - and we’re going to stand and fight.”

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#cssns23 #cs modern au mc #cs movie au #cssns fic update #carolina moon #chapter five #some violence #some angst #just a fair warning #but also a line I've been dying to have Killian say...

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novemberfyshenuke · 2 months

Text

Trigun AU

I was crying over my exams, so I went ahead and doodled a little more on the dentist au to cope. Here are the headcanons I came up with lol

Livio

Originally, Livio was meant to be a coworker or even an assistant to Knives in his clinic but I had a revelation. I think there's two things he is most likely to be: A dancer and self defense trainer. No one really expects a bulky guy like him to be so free flowing like that. I think it brings such a fun vibe to him.

He has a space above Knives' clinic and can often be seen picking up children from the ground floor.

He grew up in the church with Nico so he's someone who values God.

He slouches as if to make him smaller. The guy struggles to be stern with his students.

Razlo

Razlo is most likely a prosecutor. Livio grew up in a dangerous and terrible environment before he was brought to the church, so Razlo can be fiercely protective over him. That doesn't mean he hasn't hurt him at some point.

Razlo is musically skilled. I like to think the two of them have a thing going on where Razlo starts playing a random tune out loud and Livio's starts vibing to that.

Meryl

She's a journalist. Well, more like a blogger. Milly and her grew up in the same neighborhood and that's how she met Roberto. In her mind, she admires him and his job. As she grew older though, she did come to realize Roberto isn't the flawless role model she always thought of.

She's very perceptive and quite the smart cookie, but tends to get ahead of herself when she's too excited.

Loud unintentionally. It does benefit her with her work at times, but hanging out with friends? Just bury her six feet under, won't you?

She's studying accountancy because. Just because. I see her being stressed out at the data she's had to recompute for the past hour because Vash is being too loud.

Milly

MY GIRLLLLL

She works part time in a cafe/ restaurant her family owns

Roberto is her uncle (DON'T ARGUE WITH ME)

She's really strong from the amount of groceries and stocks she's asked to carry by her family

Also studying accountancy because she saw how determine Meryl was with her studies.

I guarantee you she finishes the homework first and Meryl asks to doublecheck her answers to see if she (Meryl) got it correct.

Many would call her naive but really, she just likes seeing the good in people. Her parents raised their kids that way afterall.

Her family's restaurant is where the gang hangs out most days.

She's really into motocross and that's how she and Nico bonded over.

Isn't really sporty but will definitely join and demolish you in basically any sport. Basketball? Just try dunking that ball when she's guarding. Hockey? Bro those bruises are going to hurt.

She's got really good luck and she's also really good at board games.

She does tend to get overly emotional though and acts before thinking. Meryl is always quick to swoop in and steady her in these situations.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

He's an actual priest. I know he has a lot of repressed feelings because of his duties. I mean. His entire inner monologue is just, "You shine so unbelievably bright. You create hope for the people around you like the very god I worship. But it's not like I'd kiss you on the lips or anything or...or whatever."

He's definitely looks older than he actually is.

Weak lungs when he was a child and he's still on medication. That doesn't stop him from smoking though. Everyone around him is always telling him to stop but his response is always, "They didn't fix my lungs just so I don't make use of them."

He can't grow a beard. The best he can get is his stubble and so he is so envious of Roberto's.

He's always dropping bible verses and then gets corrected by Knives about certain facts from the book. He hates him for it.

Legato

He's a fashion designer. He loves being in the field just not as the main focus anymore.

Elegant af in public and yet so unhinged with his crew.

He's got a wonderful voice; probs does voice acting on the side for animated shows/movies.

I like to think everyone takes a look at his work and then research him only to be jumpscared by his alt lifestyle on instagram.

He's cringe as hell to his friend group ngl. He'd sing his early 2000s Avril Lavigne in that overtly cartoonish emo voice.

He's a little obsessed with getting Knives to model for him after they shared one class in college.

Elindira

An influencer and Livio's business partner.

Much stricter on lessons and I think that's why they're compatible.

She's also a lawyer, because I can see her fighting an argument for Livio and winning.

She's very mature...when's not with Legato. Then they immediately link and start bickering like siblings.

She's the type to use a number of pet names for everyone.

Red sportscar. Red lipstick. In her pajamas and wearing cat-eyed shades while holding her head because of the hang-over she has but she still has to pick up the tiny menace from middle school. (Zazie)

She's a wine aunt and you can't convince me otherwise.

Never had a bad hair day in her life

Terrible blunt about things it honestly causes more harm than good but she won't ever lie to your face.

Vash

He likes collecting happy meal toys and displaying them in a glass cabinet in the family house dining room. This has translated to him collecting every single mascot figurine from business partners and local businesses around the area.

In high school, he worked part-time promoting Milly's family restaurant by spinning a sign around in a beat up rented mascot suit. No one will ever know who the kid behind that giant dog head was.

Mama's boy...cough

He dresses like an 80s rockstar or a biker but he's never actually approached a bike because of Mama Rem's constant helicopter parenting.

People just assume he's a 'bad boy' because he has a piercing and is a little full of himself at times.

When he's not interning at Knives' clinic, he's an emergency medical volunteer.

He's always been more of an 'I excel in theory but not in practice' guy.

He once made a patient's gums bleed and had them sobbing because he was too focused on getting on with the procedure he messed up the prep work.

Sneaks candies from the jar on top of Knives' desk

He has a prosthetic because I think it's funny for boyfailure no.1 to randomly have the batteries die or it doesn't function correctly.

Dyslexic and was quite sensitive as a child so he often got picked on.

Knives

Boyfailure no. 2 is a well-known specialist who's always rebelled against his mom but still ended up following her footsteps in the field.

He's lazy. He really feels disgusted having to stick his hands in someone's mouth cavity, but dang does his morbid curiosity always win.

I like to think he's mellowed out here because Vash and him watched My Little Pony and at the same time Superbook. He's like super confused and yet enlightened by all these moral stories and going, "Yeah, you're right, Jesus. Twilight Sparkle did deserve better!" or something...

His older cousin, Tesla, always picks on him for going by Knives rather than the name their mom picked out for him.

Do I think Knives is a kid who decided to pick a chosen name when he was 12? Yes. Yes I do.

He excels objectively and fails miserably when it comes to subjective things.

He wears sandals. Rem always got him and Vash those Velcro strap shoes so he, although he doesn't want to admit it, doesn't know how to tied his laces. He also refuses to search it up because he's convinced himself that Vash has this wagered war of who learns from the youtube video first.

He has difficulty accepting affection despite having Vash and Rem around because as a child, Vash came first. He needed to be prioritized.

Imma get to the others another time.

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aylacavebear · 2 months

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Stockroom Antics - Chapter 23

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 2295

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst, Self-deprecating thoughts, Insecurities, Depression. (Please, if you suffer from these things, seek someone trustworthy to talk to. You really aren't alone.)

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 23

You looked around the bunker for at least half an hour before finally checking the garage. The Impala was gone, and you figured that meant they’d left and taken Bubbles with them—or that was what you were hoping for. After grabbing your cell off your nightstand, you called Dean but were surprised when Sam answered.

“Hello?” Sam asked, sounding confused.

“It’s Maria. I’m uh, I’m at the bunker. Where are you guys? Is Bubbles okay? Is she with you?” you asked him, leaning against the library table.

“Who is it?” you heard Dean practically growl in the background, making you roll your eyes with annoyance.

“It’s Maria. She’s at the bunker,” Sam told him, then began answering your questions, “Bubbles is with us. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Is she alone?” you heard Dean in the background again. He sounded pissed, and you figured it was somehow because of you. Then you heard the screeching of tires.

“Yeah, I’m alone,” you answered Dean’s question, sitting down in the chair closest to you.

“I’m gonna put you on speaker,” Sam told you and did just that.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did that witch do anything to you?” Dean asked you quickly. To you, he sounded as though he was pissed.

“Slow down. All she did was talk to me. I’m fine,” you said, trying to control your emotions. The things Rowena and Crowley had said were still jumbled in your mind. Plus, there were the things the brothers had said. And all of it was conflicting at the moment.

“What did she want?” Sam asked in a much softer tone.

At least Sam seemed not to be mad at you, “She just wanted to talk,” you answered.

“What did she want to talk about?” Sam asked, and you felt the burn of tears in your eyes.

You took several slow, deep breaths, forcing the tears to go away. You really didn’t want to cry while on the phone with either of them, “She said she could do the spell to awaken my powers.”

“What did she want from you?” Dean asked, and he still sounded angry. Why did you feel like it was your fault every time he sounded angry?

“Just a vile of my blood,” you answered as if it was no big thing. You hadn’t understood at the time just how dangerous that really was.

“Please tell me you didn’t agree to that,” Sam said, almost sounding worried.

“No. I told her I wanted to think it over first,” you replied, slightly annoyed. Part of you felt like they were treating you like a child like you couldn’t think for yourself and would just agree to anything without thinking first.

“Look, Sweetheart. We’re not trying to tell you what to do, but that is the last woman you want to give your blood to,” Dean said to you.

Something about his tone got on your last nerve. You did well, though. You didn’t completely go off on him, but you did give him a mild piece of your mind.

“I just called to tell you I was back and I’m fine and to find out where you all went. I’m gonna get something to eat and head to bed. Since it seems that you require to know my whereabouts now,” you said flatly, then hung up the phone.

At least you were alone in the bunker, and you yelled in utter frustration. Then, you went to the gym, locating the punching bag. You desperately needed to hit something, and at the moment, you wanted to hit Dean. So, you just pictured his face on the punching bag, letting it all out, hit after hit after hit. You’d never had something to hit before when you were angry, and this was helping far more than you ever thought it would. Then, though, as your body began to get exhausted, the tears slowly streamed down your cheeks.

Out of habit, you ran to your room. It was a long-embedded thing from childhood; if you were emotional, you did it alone in your room. For a while, you were curled in a ball, lying down crying, then sitting up and hugging your legs, your face buried in your knees, crying more. Everything hit you again.

You’d always been independent, taking care of yourself whenever you could. You hated feeling like a burden to anyone or that someone else had to take care of you. Now you felt like more than that, being at the bunker with the brothers. Then there were the things Rowena and Crowley had said about them. Everything felt so confusing, and you weren’t sure what or who to believe about any of it. Would the brothers really do anything for each other and let someone die to save one of them?

The tears wouldn’t stop. Sometimes, they were slow; other times, they were hard, making your whole body shake as you sobbed. Now, there was this entire soulmate ordeal, and it was supposedly one of the three men you’d recently met. You still were having a hard time believing it was even possible that there was someone out there for you. Any normal person would have found you to be some kind of freak. At least, that was what you figured.

No matter what Astaria or her partner had said, you were still having a hard time thinking about it. The things they had both said about soulmates and how happy the two of them seemed to be only made you cry more. You had figured you’d never have something like that, and attempting even to consider it now only hurt more.

When you felt Bubbles nudge your arm as well as the bed dip, you didn’t even look up. You knew who was there. You didn’t want to see anyone or have anyone see you, even telling them to go away, but at this point, there wasn’t anything you could do about that. You figured they wouldn’t, although you partially couldn’t understand why. You were a mess. Even the touch of his hand on your arm through your flannel made you feel like crying again. It was soft, gentle, welcoming, and all you wanted to do was crawl into his arms and bawl your eyes out.

After the two of them left, Bubbles stayed with you. Since your anger was gone at this point, you were a little more receptive than usual. Bubbles again nudged your hand, and you looked at her with sadness in your eyes.

“If you like Dean so much better, you could just go hang out with him,” you mumbled sadly to her.

The look of compassion in Bubbles’ eyes made you want to cry again.

Don’t cry.

You furrowed your brow in confusion, hearing those words in your mind. The voice was comforting, and you felt concern as well.

You’re not alone.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, feeling fresh tears.

Bubbles seemed to smile a little up at you. Trusting someone is scary. They’re nice, safe. Rowena is evil. Don’t trust her.

You shifted your position, crossing your legs, as you attempted to fully comprehend what was happening at this moment. This was the most she’d ever communicated with you. More questions flooded your mind, and you had difficulty figuring out where to start.

She tilted her head at you, like she was debating something. Talk to Astaria again. She can help you understand. Your soulmate is important. You need to let him get close to you.

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t even know where to start to believe that’s possible,” you grumbled.

It looked like she rolled her eyes at you, and you couldn’t help the small giggle, which was when Dean and Sam returned to your room. Your smile instantly faded when you saw the sandwich Dean had brought you. The slight burn of fresh tears stung your eyes again, and you couldn’t look up at him.

When Sam spoke though, you looked at him, still fighting the tears. All you could see was what looked like pity, like they saw you as a wounded animal or something, and it hurt. You gingerly reached out and put the hex bag in your flannel pocket after Sam set it down. It was something that somehow made you feel safer.

Not pity, concern. They are worried about you.

The words in your mind made you want to cry again, but you couldn’t, not with the two of them in your room. There were things so engrained in you, like not crying in front of anyone, that you just couldn’t do it. The gentle way Dean told you to eat something also hurt in a way, although your brain took it wrong. So, when the two did leave your room, you waved your hand, closing it behind them.

Bubbles went over to the plate and pulled it closer to you. Eat. It will help you feel better. They care about you.

“I’m a burden,” you mumbled, and she sighed, but you picked up the sandwich. Even if you wouldn’t admit it, you were hungry. It was surprisingly tasty.

When you finished eating, Bubbles took care of your plate. Now, having a full stomach, though, and after having cried as much as you did, you felt beyond exhausted. You didn’t want to talk to Astaria. Hell, you didn’t want to talk to anyone. You curled up under your blankets and hugged your pillow. Sleep found you quicker than usual that night.

You were in the forest again, although closer to the little community than last time. Bubbles was hovering near your shoulder. A depressed sigh left your lips. You still weren’t sure how this was even going to help. Bubbles began flying further down the path but stopped and turned around when you hadn’t followed her. “Come on. She’s waiting,” the dragon spoke. “You can talk now?” you asked her, puzzled. “Sort of. It’s thoughts in other dimensions. But here it is words. Since our bond is stronger, you can hear me,” she explained. “Can others hear you, too?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Only your bloodline,” she answered plainly. You rolled your eyes and followed her as she flew to the community. Astaria was at the same table you sat with her at last time. Bubbles landed on the table between the two of you as you sat down across from Astaria. “Well, now. This is a surprise,” Astaria said. “What do you mean?” you asked her, more confused now than you were with Bubbles. She sighed, “I can tell you didn’t exhaust yourself. Your familiar brought you here. That means that you are having some deep-seated issues, and your familiar needs some help.” You had to think about that, although you were still confused, “I still don’t get it. She likes Dean more than me, though,” you mumbled. “Wait, is she talking to Dean?” Astaria asked you quickly. You looked down at the table. Bubbles had just been looking between the two of you the entire time. “He knew her name before I did,” you said quietly, feeling the sadness again.

That was when she lost it laughing, and you looked up at her. You didn’t find any part of this funny. At first, you wanted to yell at her. Anger was always easier for you. Then the sadness came, and you looked away from her. “I’m sorry,” she said between fits of laughter. Then, she gently scratched Bubbles on the head, looking down at her, “You got a stubborn one, didn’t you,” she chuckled again. You sighed and finally looked at Astaria again, “Can someone please clue me in whatever is going on?” you asked, attempting to keep your emotions in check. Having her call you stubborn only reminded you of the piece of paper which Bubbles had written that word on and handed to you earlier that day. Astaria caught her breath and looked up at you, “Lemme guess. You still don’t want to take a chance on that soulmate thing I told you about last time? Plus, you've just pulled away from everyone due to your life getting turned upside down.” There was a compassionate sincerity in her tone that brought fresh tears to your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, attempting to compose yourself. On your last visit you’d shared a lot of your life with Astaria. Plus, you remember her telling you that she had gone through this before, helping others who were like you, non-believers. “You know, if you keep living your life through fear, you’ll be miserable for a really long time,” she said softly, reaching out and gently squeezing your hand. “But… what if it’s Crowley?” you whispered, not trusting your voice and fighting back tears. You did notice how Astaria was holding back her laughter, “If it was Crowley, I’m pretty sure your little familiar here wouldn’t be chatting it up with Dean,” she said, giving you a wink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, still confused. With everything that had happened, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and your emotions weren’t any better. All your nerves felt exposed and you felt stuck with the conflicting information and emotions. “You’re gonna have to make a choice, Maria. You can either keep going the way you are, or you can decide to take a chance and stop being afraid of all those what-if’s,” Astaria told you plainly but bluntly. She sighed, “For now, though, you should probably sleep. Your mind and body desperately need it.”

With that, the dream ended, but you slept, as did Bubbles. She was curled up against your chest above the blankets.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 24

Tag List: @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you

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idyllic-affections · 1 year

Note

hey I really liked your angle kisses with kaveh. can I request an angsty fic with kaveh where the reader has difficulty accepting affection cause they've never had it before and think it's mocking and condescending instead?

may my guard never drop, for should my heart be allowed to breathe, i fear i may cause you harm.

summary. vulnerability is difficult. trigger & content warnings. none applicable. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. soft angst. kaveh x reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. FIRST ANON LETS GO!!!! hi lovely, im so glad you liked angel kisses. i hope you'll like this one too <3 it is short, but it actually ended up being a little longer than i anticipated. on a different note, idk why but i title some of my works as if i was a brooding poet LMAO

Kaveh was an affectionate man.

Anyone who knew him could say such a thing with confidence; he was passionate about everything he did, and naturally, that included expressing his affection towards his loved ones. In fact, it seemed that he became even more impassioned when it came to that. Unlike most Akademiya graduates, Kaveh was driven largely by emotion rather than logic, and his emotions were very plentiful. That fact was no secret.

As such, it would come as no surprise that the architect was fluent in virtually every love language.

Was someone he cared for dreading doing a particular tedious chore? Oh, no worries—he'd already taken care of it before they could get too stressed over it; stress isn't good for the body nor the mind, after all. Did they want to go somewhere in particular? He would be glad to accompany them, especially if they felt unsafe going alone. Was a friend of his from the Akademiya feeling insecure about a rejected thesis? He'd sing their praises for hours on end, taking the opportunity to both support his friend and outwardly oppose the Sages and their close-minded interpretation of wisdom.

Kaveh was a lover with a heart too big for his chest to contain, and to some, a fool.

However, a fool wouldn't see the things he did. Yes, perhaps once in a while, he'd be blindsighted by his boundless ardor, but he was not blind to discomfort—he was not blind when it came to harming others. It was something he tried to avoid as much as he possibly could. He was not blind to the way [Name] would avoid his touches oh-so diligently, how the contact seemed to agitate them. He noticed. He saw. He was no fool. Still...

He hated not being able to understand why. For a self-proclaimed empath, he was having a terribly difficult time figuring it out.

"Do you not like when I touch you?"

Archons above, he looked like a kicked puppy, scarlet eyes wide and expression borderline pouty. Expressive and passionate he certainly was. They grimaced, turning back to the fruit stall in front of them and picking out the sunsettias they deemed to be of the best quality. Firm fruit was generally of higher quality than soft fruit.

"It's... not that, Kaveh."

He wordlessly waited for them to continue, reaching out to squeeze their hand in what would have been a reassuring manner, only for them to draw their arm away from him.

A pained look flashed briefly across his features.

"...I just find it condescending. It's not you."

"Why? Who made you feel that way?"

"I don't know, okay?" A deep sigh left through their nose. "I know you don't mean it like that, but old habits die hard, I guess. It's like... It makes me feel like I'm being treated like a child who can't handle themselves, being coddled and pampered... I don't like it."

Vulnerability was a difficult thing. To be truly, earnestly open and honest with someone... the thought alone made their throat tighten uncomfortably, stomach twisting at the simple thought. Many scholars did not openly embrace vulnerability, deeming it to be a "hinderance to the pursuit of wisdom"; they were hardly any different, only they encouraged it in others while refusing to embrace it themselves. However, hypocrisy was unbecoming of an intelligent person. They couldn't be bothered to care.

The act of being vulnerable did not come to them easily.

Responding with aggression, however, did. It had happened more than once with other people who were a bit too pushy. They knew very well that Kaveh didn't deserve that, though.

"[Name]—"

"Can we talk about this later?" they murmured, gnawing on the corner of their lip. "I'm not in a good enough place to talk about this right now. You're sensitive, Kaveh. I don't want to hurt you."

Without waiting for a response, they quickly turned on their heel, the intention of fruit shopping being long forgotten as they darted towards one of the ways out of the Grand Bazaar.

The architect only watched motionlessly in uncharacteristic silence as they left, the sting of rejection searing his skin.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's drabbles 🌸#aphelion's requests 🌸#platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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persephonewritessometimes · 1 year

Text

me and the devil / unsub!hotch x reader / chapter four

Summary: Hotch gets called on a case and has no one to watch Jack. Y/N volunteers and finds herself as a babysitter for a few days. [exposition building!]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 8141

Warnings: MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY, ANATOMY TERMINOLOGY, CHILD BIRTH [not too graphic but I will give a warning and a following summary for those who don't want to read it!], MENTIONS OF DEAD PARENT, MENTION OF BEING ABANDONED BY A PARENT one use of fuck, domestic!reader, jack is too cute for his own good

Key: y/n = your name

Author's Note: jesus fuck i'm so sorry i didn't get this out sooner!! finals wrecked my motivation and i hate plot buildingXD hopefully you guys enjoy, i've got some fun things planned for this story coming up!

me and the devil series masterlist

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

I got the call that my car had been repaired and was ready for me to pick up the morning after I made Hotch spend the night. We coordinated with Morgan to make sure all the cars got back to where they needed to go and I no longer had to rely on Hotch’s decommissioned SUV to get me places. I would lie if I say I don’t miss it though - I felt like a badass secret agent in that car. I ended up having to skip Morgan’s self-defense class on Saturday due to Tia having a boyfriend emergency, well, now an ex-boyfriend emergency, and because of that, I was busy all weekend. I promised Hotch I would go to the next one, knowing he’ll hold me to it.

I haven’t seen Hotch for over a week now, but he texted me and let me know that they had been called on a case halfway across the country so he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. I’m disappointed, but I know Hotch has to work just like everyone else. It’s a dull weekend at the club due to poor weather - I didn’t even want to go because it was so dreary. I go to bed early Sunday night, exhausted from work and school. My phone blares in my ear the next morning - someone’s calling me. What the hell? I’m disoriented, as I furrow through my blankets to find my phone, and when I finally get ahold of it, I see that it’s Hotch. It’s unusual for him to call me this early, and a glance at the clock tells me it’s just before 8:00 AM.

“Hello?” I say into the phone, voice scratchy from sleep.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry to ask you for this, but we just got called on another case and Jess is in California this week and I have no one to watch Jack. I’ll pay you well, I just need someone to watch him for a couple of days. I’m so sorry.” He’s rambling and it’s kind of amusing to hear his stoic facade disappear for a second.

“Hotch, slow down, it’s fine. I don’t mind watching Jack, I like kids.” I say, and I can hear him let out a sigh of relief.

“You just saved my life.”

“Well, if I’m counting right, that’s the second time I’ve saved your life,” I say, smiling.

“You’ve got me there. I’ll text you the address. Oh, and you can bring Cujo, Jack loves animals.” He hangs up the phone and a few seconds later my text tone chimes, and sure enough, he’s already sent me the address. I rub my eyes for a few seconds. I’m usually not awake at this ungodly hour. When I’ve collected myself a little bit and feel more coherent, I get out of bed, Cujo cocking his head as he looks at me, like he’s also confused as to why I’m up this early I laugh a little.

“It’s okay boy, we’re just gonna go stay somewhere else for a few days.” He huffs and puts his head back down. I grab the duffel bag from underneath my bed and throw in a couple of outfits and a pair of scrubs haphazardly. I pack up my toiletries in the bathroom and grab Cujo’s food and travel dishes from the kitchen. Thankfully I didn’t unpack my backpack after studying at the library yesterday, so I don’t have to worry about packing that as well. My clinical bag is also waiting by the door. I call Cujo to the front door and he whines but gets out of bed to join me. I slip him into his travel harness and leash before slinging my backpack over my shoulders and grabbing my overnight bag and clinical bag. I feel kind of stupid trying to lock my door with what feels like my entire apartment packed into my three bags. I slowly make my way down the stairs, mindful of the leash - I can see myself wiping out if I take one wrong move, and that would be embarrassing to have to explain to Hotch.

I get Cujo clipped in in the back seat and put my bags there too. I drive to Hotch’s house as quickly as the speed limit allows. He sounded so panicked over the phone and I know he thinks he’s inconveniencing me, but he’s letting me bring Cujo, so why would I be inconvenienced? I pull into his driveway right next to his SUV and get out of my car and wave hello to him as I go to get my stuff from the backseat. My backpack finds its way back onto my shoulders and I unlatch Cujo from his hook in the backseat and click the leash back on. He hops out of the car, surveying his new surroundings. I’m reaching to grab my duffel bag and clinical bag when a large hand grabs both of them before I can get to them.

“I’ve got them.” He says, chest very close to mine when I turn around and look up at him.

“Thanks,” I say breathlessly. I shut my car door and lock the car, following Hotch into the house.

“Jack’s at school right now, but the bus drops him off at 3:00 PM and picks him up at 7:50 AM. He does have the day off tomorrow, some kind of makeup snow day, and I was hoping to be here so I could spend it with him.” He trails off and I can tell that he’s embarrassed.

“Hotch, it’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“I already called the school so Jack knows you’re here. This isn’t really how I wanted you two to meet, but it’ll have to do.”

“How did you want us to meet?” His cheeks turn pink at my question and he deftly changes the subject.

“You have my number, call me if you need anything. I should be back late Wednesday night. Jack’s a sweetheart, so you should be fine.” I nod and he gives me a quick tour of the house, pointing out the guest bedroom, giving me a guide to the alarm system, and the garage door codes.

“One question.”

“Yes?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you a ‘no animals on the couch’ kind of person? Because that might be an issue.” He laughs, and says,

“Animals are welcome on the couch.”

“Good. Now get out of here, I know you have a flight to catch.” He hesitates, face torn, and I add quietly, “Hotch, it’s okay, I can do this, I want to do this. Go do your job - catch the bad guy.”

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this.” He presses a spare key in my hand, kisses my cheek, and is out of the door in minutes. I lock the door after him and slip the spare key next to my house key on my keyring. Hopefully, I won’t get them mixed up.

The house is very quiet now that Cujo and I are the only one’s here. I’m not usually a nosy person, but as the minutes drag on I feel the urge to explore the house getting stronger. I worry my lip for a few seconds, torn between respecting Hotch’s privacy and satisfying my curiosity, but I ultimately give in, padding around the house and checking it out with more attention. I steer clear of the master bedroom, having to set a boundary for myself, plus I know the room will smell like him - slightly minty with a hint of evergreen and something that’s just man, just him - and I know the smell would make what’s left of my rational thoughts flee my mind. I find my way into his study, the large mahogany desk imposing and clear of any papers. All the drawers are locked, but at least three hundred books are in the surrounding bookcases. I look at the titles, but most of them don’t catch my eye, just textbooks, studies, and other papers of that kind. What does catch my eye are the dozen Harlan Coben novels. I’m not much of a reader, what with school and work, but I used to read Harlan Coben novels when I had the time. I run my fingers over the spines, recognizing a few titles, but the majority are new to me. I chew on my lip debating if Hotch would care if I read one and conclude that he wouldn’t.

I pull The Innocent off of the shelf, tucking it under my arm and retreating from the office. I settle down on the plush couch, Cujo already asleep on it and open the book. I don’t put it down until a few hours later, and only because my stomach started rumbling. I dig around in my backpack for a piece of paper and tear off an edge, using it as a makeshift bookmark while I snoop in the kitchen. Hotch told me to help myself to anything, and this man splurges on his groceries. I finally settle on a DIY charcuterie board, having cut up a couple of types of cheese, some lunch meat, and fresh fruit. I grab my book from the couch and hold it open with one hand while I eat with the other. I’m sucked in - I can’t put the book down. I love mysteries and this one with an ex-convict as an accidental murderer has my full attention. I finish the book in the early afternoon and carefully place it back into its rightful spot in the study. I force myself to not pull another book down, knowing that I have to work on homework now.

“I’ll come back for you later,” I whisper to the books.

I check the time - I have two hours until Jack gets home, a perfect amount of time for me to get some homework done. I’m currently in my OBGYN rotation, and there’s so much information I need to know for my final, which is only two months from now. I lose myself in flashcards and textbook passages when I hear the unmistakable sound of a school bus. I scramble to get off the couch, having been buried in my papers. I walk towards the door and open it, leaning against the door frame as I watch Jack get off, wave bye to the bus driver, and run up the driveway with a huge smile on his face. I smile to myself as he gets closer and then slows down.

“Hi, Y/N! I’m so excited to meet you!” He says, out of breath.

“I’m excited to meet you too, Jack.” I move out of the way and he rushes inside. Cujo, having heard the commotion, hops off the couch and trots towards the small boy.

“YOU HAVE A DOG?” He exclaims, dropping his bag in the entryway as Cujo greets him with sniffing and wet kisses. Jack giggles when Cujo licks his cheek and he’s petting him eagerly.

“His name is Cujo, and it looks like he likes you!” I say, smiling.

“Well, I love him!” Jack pets him for a few more moments before saying, “Wait! I think I have a tennis ball in my room, can I play out back with him?”

“Of course!” Jack runs off to his room and I kiss Cujo on the head and whisper,

“Good boy.” Jack comes back seconds later and we head outside to the fenced-in backyard. Cujo sprints around the yard - we don’t have a space like this in my complex. Jack starts to play fetch with Cujo and his giggles every time Cujo drops the ball at his feet are infectious. I sit in one of the chairs on the back porch - the weather has taken a turn for the better today, the sun shining bright and the weather is actually kind of warm. I find myself lost in thought and think about this house. It’s beautiful, yes, but I would think it’s a show home due to the pristineness. The only giveaway that someone lives here is the family pictures. The air inside the house is stale, I noticed it as I was studying. As if there’s no life in the house.

“Jack, I’m gonna open some windows if that’s okay,” I call to him, “Does your dad ever open the windows?”

“Not really!”

“Well, I’ll open up a couple, get a nice cross breeze in here.” I head inside, always keeping an eye on Jack, and open some windows. They creak and groan from disuse, but even with just a few open the house feels more inviting. After about twenty minutes, Jack comes back inside, Cujo trailing behind him and I fix him a snack when he says he’s hungry. He’s watching me, and I’m watching him, both of us trying to look busy. He reminds me of his father - eyes always alert and watching for something.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a nursing student.”

“So you heal sick people.”

“Well, I try to.”

“That’s really cool! How do you know my dad?” I freeze a little bit, not sure what to tell him.

“We…met at a bar,” I fib a little, “He actually helped me get away from some bad guys.”

“Yeah, he’s cool like that,” Jack says with a smile.

“You got any homework?”

“Yeah. Math. It’s confusing though.”

“Want some help? I mostly do medication conversions these days, but I’m sure I could help a little bit.”

“Yeah!” He runs off to grab his backpack from the entryway and comes back to the kitchen table, pushing his bowl away and pulling out a paper. I glance at it, and luckily it’s something I do know - addition and subtraction. “Once I find the answer it makes sense, but sometimes I get confused on the subtraction. Especially the double digits.”

“Hmmm, let’s see here.” I watch him struggle with the first problem, not having enough fingers on his hands to get to the correct answer. “I have an idea.” I open a bunch of drawers until I find something I saw earlier. I pull out a jar of peanuts and open them. Jack laughs.

“What are you doing?”

“Just watch! Okay, look at the first problem, 12 - 5.” I dig out a handful of peanuts and put them on the table. “Okay, count out 12 peanuts.” Jack laughs a little but does it anyway. “Great, now if you were to take away 5 more peanuts, what would you have?” Jack grabs five of the peanuts and removes them from the pile. He counts them and shouts,

“Seven!”

“That’s right! Let’s do the next problem.” By the end of the worksheet, he’s got a better grasp on the idea, and in the last three problems he doesn’t even use the peanuts to solve the problems. “Good job!” I say and he holds out his hand for a high five. I smack it lightly, and he says,

“You have a weak high five.”

“Do you want a do-over?” I say.

“Yes!” I only hold back a little bit this time and he whoops when our hands meet. “Now that’s a high five!” He shakes his hand a little bit afterward, and I feel bad about it. “Do you have homework too?”

“Yes, my homework is never ending, it seems. But I graduate this semester, so no more homework after that!”

“Do you need help with your homework?”

I laugh a little, “I don’t know if my homework is appropriate for you, buddy. I’m learning about mommies and babies right now. Gross stuff.”

“Ew! I don’t want to look at that!” I laugh again.

“How about I put on a movie for you and I’ll do my homework while you watch it? Is Star Wars okay?”

“I love Star Wars!”

“Good! Let me get it in the DVD player. Which one do you want?”

“Return of the Jedi!”

“Good pick, that’s my favorite one.”

“You like Star Wars?” He looks at me with wide eyes.

“Of course! My dad used to watch them with me all the time.” I walk into the living room, grab ‘Return of the Jedi’ from the entertainment center, and put it in the DVD player. It takes me a few seconds to figure out how to get the TV on the right setting, but I eventually figure it out. Jack sits on the couch, and Cujo gets up on it as well, putting his head in his lap. I watch as Jack watches the movie, absentmindedly petting Cujo on the head, who’s fast asleep. I bury myself in my studies again, knowing I have about an hour and a half to do so.

I’ve gone through my flashcards so many times it feels like I can’t stuff any more information in my brain. I finally sigh and paperclip them back together and set them to the side. I turn my focus to the movie - Luke Skywalker has just turned himself in to be taken to Emperor Palpatine. I watch the rest of the movie with Jack and when it’s done, he looks at me and asks,

“What’s for dinner?”

“That’s a great question. What are you hungry for?” He thinks for a couple of seconds.

“Chicken nuggets?”

“Great pick. I’ll go get them in the oven.” I gather up my things and put them back in my backpack - Jack doesn’t need to see a diagram of a woman spread eagle and crowning, that might haunt him for years.

I’m in the kitchen getting dinner ready, also throwing some frozen french fries I found in the freezer on the sheet pan. I’ve just put them in the oven when I hear from behind me,

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend?” I blink a few times before turning to face him.

“Um, we’re just friends.”

“Do you want to be my dad’s girlfriend?” He asks, widening his eyes. Oh come on I haven’t even asked myself that question yet!

“I…don’t know,” I answer truthfully. I don’t want to lie to him again.

“Well, he likes you.” I can’t hide the surprise that flashes across my face. The curiosity to know exactly what Hotch has mentioned about me is too strong and I find myself asking,

“And how do you know that?” The words are out before I can stop myself.

“He told me he met a really pretty girl who makes him laugh. He said that you’re captivating and he can’t stop thinking about you.” My cheeks are boiling.

“He told you this?” Jack turns sheepish at that and shakes his head no.

“I overheard him talking to Uncle Rossi about it.”

“Oh, so you were eavesdropping?” I say with a smile and his indignation makes me laugh.

“No! I was just listening!”

“Mhmm.”

“I swear! Don’t tell him I told you, he doesn’t even know that I know.”

“I won’t tell him, I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” I say, wrapping my pinky around his and squeezing tight. He sits down at the table and watches me as I cut up some fresh fruit.

“I like you. You’re nice. And you like Star Wars.”

“Thank you. I like you too, you’re fun to be around.” I say back and he smiles. It’s quiet until the oven timer goes off and I use an oven mitt to get the sheet pan out. I let it sit for a few minutes, knowing that if I plate the chicken nuggets and fries now, I’ll burn my mouth, and Jack probably will too. Jack is impatient as we wait for the nuggets to cool down, asking every few seconds if they’re ready yet. After dinner, Jack gets in the shower and I close up the windows, the air already feeling much better inside the house. I take Cujo outside to use the bathroom and clean up after him. When I come back inside Jack is out of the shower and in dinosaur-print pajamas.

“Oh, I like your pajamas!” I say with a smile and he grins up at me. “I have dinosaur pajamas too!” His eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

“You? Have dinosaur pajamas?” I chuckle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, I have dinosaur pajamas. They’re actually in my bag right now, do you want to see them?” He nods furiously and follows me to the guest room. I dig them out and show them to him. Pink and purple stegosaurus, velociraptors, and triceratops cover the top and bottoms, and he laughs when he sees them.

“You have girl dinosaurs!”

“Hey! Boys can like pink and purple too!” He’s laughing at my pajamas and I can’t help but laugh too. “Come on, let's get you to bed,” I say and throw my pajamas on the guest bed. He grumbles but listens to me, and when I tuck him into bed he says,

“Thanks, Y/N. See you in the morning.” He yawns and rubs his eyes.

“Goodnight, Jack. I’ll see you in the morning!” I almost trip over a toy truck making my way back to the door of his room, and I shut off the light and shut the door behind me. Now it’s my turn for a shower. I shower with efficiency, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed. My thoughts wander as I do so, and I wonder how Hotch feels about having such an involved job while also having Jack. I think it would be hard. I get out of the shower and went through my skincare routine before I slip into my pajamas and get in bed.

Tuesday morning comes quickly, and thanks to Jack having the day off we get to sleep in for a little bit. He finally pulls me out of bed around 9:30, and I complain the entire time, which he just laughs at. I make us french toast for breakfast, which Jack fervently declares his love for, and then get dressed. I have one lecture today, Adult Health 4, and it’s at eleven.

“Jack, I know you don’t have school today, but I have school today, so here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna come to class to me, but we’re going to bring your portable DVD player and bring a movie or two, as my class is two hours.”

“TWO HOURS?” He exclaims. “For one class?” I laugh.

“Yes, college isn’t really fun.”

“I bet!” We get ready and I make sure everything that I need is packed and we have Jack’s DVD player with a pair of headphones. He grabs A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, and we climb into my car. I make him sit in the backseat, as I don’t have a car seat for him and drive slowly to Stafford Hospital, where all of my classes are being held this semester. I park in the farthest lot, as is our rule since we are guests at the Hospital, and sling on my backpack. It’s unusually hot today, and sticky, and Jack starts to complain the moment his feet hit the asphalt.

“Y/N, please, will you carry me? It’s hoooot.” He whines.

“Jack, you’re six, I think you can walk.” He drags his feet and I concede. “Fine, come on. I hoist him up on my hip and he wraps his legs around me, resting his head in the crook of my shoulder. I want to curse but he’s being cute so I’ll let it slide. I wrap my arms around him, supporting him, and make the long trek to the hospital. Sweat is sliding down my temple when the doors slide open and I step inside. Jack sighs at the sudden cold air. “Think you can walk now, buddy?” He nods and I set him down, but he takes my hand as we make our way through the hospital and up to the second floor.

“It’s so bright in here!” Jack says, eyes wildly tracking all the people we pass. We make our way into the small lecture room, and I get Jack and me situated in two seats in the back corner.

“Y/N! Who’s your friend?” Jenna says, making her way over to us.

“I’m Jack!” Jack says with a grin, bouncing in his seat.

“Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Jenna!” Jenna looks at me with raised eyebrows and mutters, “Do you have a kid we don’t know about?”

I chuckle, “No, he’s my…friend’s kid. I’m just watching him while his dad is out of town.”

“Well, you two must be really good friends,” Jenna says and winks at me, and my cheeks grow hot. Jack soon commandeers the attention of the whole class and he’s telling them all about playing fetch with Cujo yesterday. Dr. Pratt comes in shortly thereafter, and even she cannot resist Jack’s infectious energy. We start class ten minutes late because of it. I get Jack’s DVD player set up and his headphones plugged in and he’s contently watching Star Wars while I’m frantically taking notes on Dr. Pratt’s lecture and asking questions at every opportunity. Jack quietly asks for a snack about halfway through, and I’m glad that I keep a bag of Goldfish in my bag for emergencies. Thankfully, the pictures aren’t graphic today so I don’t have to worry about scarring Jack for the rest of his life. Class is over before I know it, and as everyone is packing up, I tell Jack I’ll be right back.

“Dr. Pratt?” I ask.

“Yes, Y/N? What can I do for you?”

“I’m really sorry about Jack. His dad didn’t have anyone else to watch him so I volunteered.” Dr. Pratt chuckles.

“Y/N, Jack was lovely, feel free to bring him again if you’d like. He was not a problem at all.” I let out a breath and thank her, making my way through the now almost empty room to pack my stuff up. Jack pauses his movie, yawns, and stretches, and I put his DVD player away.

“What do you say we get lunch, buddy?” I ask Jack as we make our way out of the hospital and into the humid air.

“Yes! Lunch lunch lunch!” He practically skips back to the car, I help him in, set my backpack in the passenger seat, get in the driver’s seat, and he’s suddenly quiet.

“Jack? You okay?” He looks shy as I glance back at him in the rearview mirror.

“Can we get McDonald’s?” He asks, his voice quiet.

“You know what, yeah, we can get McDonald’s!” He cheers and I smile to myself as I put the car in drive and make my way to the nearest McDonald’s. I get him a chicken nugget kid’s meal, as per his request, and I get my favorite meal from McDonald’s. Jack asked if we could get hot fudge sundaes, and I couldn’t resist, so those may have snuck into our order. By the time we’re done with lunch, it’s almost 2:00 PM, and Jack is falling asleep in his chair. “You need a nap?” I ask, and he furiously shakes his head no. I laugh, “Well, I think I need a nap, let’s get you home, okay?”

Sure enough, he falls asleep in the car on the drive home, not rousing as I gently carry him to his room. I run back to the car to get my backpack, not wanting it to get stolen from my car, and I put on a tank top and shorts, open a few windows, and take Cujo out back. I fall asleep in a plastic chair while sitting in the shade, and wake up when Jack shakes my arm.

“Y/N, wake up!”

“Huh? Oh, hi.” I say and rub my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Four o’clock!”

“Oh jeez, we slept for a long time!”

“Play legos with me, please?” I nod and stretch my stiff body as I get up from the chair. Jack drags his legos into the living room, we play for about an hour, Jack makes a Lego car, while I make a little house. My build looks shoddy and colorful, while Jack’s is more put together than mine.

The rest of the evening is quiet. I make dinner - frozen pizza this time - and afterward, Jack takes a shower, and I let him know the plan for tomorrow.

“So, you have to go back to school tomorrow.” Jack groans. “I know, it’s no fun. Your dad says the bus picks you up at 7:50, I’ll be up way before that, I have to go to clinical tomorrow so I have to get ready for that.” He looks confused.

“What’s clinical?”

“Oh! It’s hands-on learning. So I shadow a nurse in the hospital and they teach me the ropes. It’s really fun!”

“Cool!”

“Okay, so, I’ll see you off on the bus. My clinical gets out at 2:00, so I’ll be home before you get home.”

“Okay.” Jack yawns. I tuck him in.

“Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” This time when I leave, I make note of the toy truck so I don’t almost trip over it again. I take a quick shower after I lock the house up and close the windows. I lay out my scrubs for tomorrow, and make sure my clinical bag is packed and ready to go. I set my alarm for 6:30 AM, already dreading it, but I’m asleep soon after my head hits the pillow.

Wednesday morning is a blur. I’m frantically making breakfast, trying to eat it, let Cujo outside, then back inside, fill up his food dish and water dish, get Jack ready for school while also keeping an eye on the time, and by the time Jack gets on the bus I feel like I need a nap. I don’t have time for one though, as I’m out of the door by 8:00 AM.

-START OF CLINICAL DAY, THEREFORE MEDICAL TERMS AND CHILDBIRTH -

When I get to the hospital, I shuck my clinical bag over my shoulder and once again make the long trek from the back parking lot to the front entrance. The Labor and Delivery, or L&D, unit is on the third floor, and I swipe my badge to get in before I meet Dr. Anshaw in our meeting room. I’m shadowing Erin today, who’s a nurse practitioner and can deliver babies by herself if the need arises, and I get my shift change notes from her before meeting our patient in room seven.

“Angie? Is it okay if I bring in Y/N, my student nurse?” I hear Erin ask from inside the room as I patiently wait outside.

“Of course, bring as many students as you want!” Angie says with a laugh. I step into the room and introduce myself.

“Hello, Angie, my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m going to be your student nurse today. Can I please get your full name and date of birth?”

“Angie Lewis, January 8th, 1980.”

“Perfect,” I say as I check her wristband. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Stafford Hospital. And it’s early spring.” She says, winking at me.

“You’re ahead of the game! On a scale of 1 to 10, one being no pain at all and ten being the worst pain you’ve felt in your life, where are you at right now?”

“Probably a six.”

“Erin, what stage is she in?” I ask as I turn to wash my hands in the sink on the wall.

“Almost to active labor. She was 5cm the last time I checked.”

“Angie, are we excited to meet the baby?” I ask and smile at her.

“So excited!”

“Are you a first-time mom?”

“Second time!”

“So this one will be a breeze!” I wink at her and she laughs.

“Well, hopefully, my husband won’t pass out this time!” I laugh at that.

“Happens a lot more than you think!” I pull on a pair of gloves and look to Erin for reassurance. “Is it okay if I check your cervix, to see how dilated you are?”

“Go right ahead, sweetie.” She gives me a soft smile and it eases my nerves a little bit. I check her cervix.

“Almost at six! You’re about to hit active labor!” I discard my gloves and wash my hands again as Erin double-checks and affirms what I felt.

“We’ll be back in a little bit, Angie. Hit the call button if you need us!” Erin says, and I trail her out the door. “Very nice, Y/N, she’s comfortable around you.” I get sheepish at that.

“I just like what I do, that’s all,” I say and shrug, and Erin smiles at me before saying,

“Don’t downplay your abilities. You’re already a wonderful nurse.” I help her with some charting in the break room and about an hour later I’m knocking on Angie’s door to see how she’s doing.

“Angie, how are we doing?” I’m met with the sound of controlled breathing - her husband is currently coaching her through a contraction. I’m washing my hands and pulling on gloves as they finish.

“I’m okay. Active labor hit about ten minutes ago I think. Contractions are stronger and closer together, the pressure in my back is killing me.” She says. “Richard, can you put my hair in a braid please?”

Her husband jumps to her aid, pulling a hair tie off of his wrist and holding it in between his teeth as he braids her hair. Once he’s done I ask Angie if I can check her cervix again.

“Seven centimeters, you are moving along quite quickly, Angie!”

“Thank god, I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever.” She lets out a breathless laugh.

“Are we wanting an epidural?” I ask, discarding my gloves and washing my hands again. Angie shakes her head no. “Erin and I will be in a half hour. Use your call light if you need us or change your mind about that epidural, okay?” She nods, relaxing back on the bed, in between contractions.

Thirty minutes fly by, and Erin checks in on Angie, her contractions are about four minutes apart still, and she’s only 8cm dilated. Another thirty minutes go by, and Angie is now 9cm dilated and feeling a lot of pressure in her back and butt.

“Y/N?” Angie asks, wiping her forehead. “Will you stay with me? I’d feel better if I had a nurse here. I have a feeling it’s going to happen soon.”

“Of course, I’ll stay with you,” I say, pulling up a chair. Angie begins to distract herself, telling me stories of her other child, Lily, who turns four in a couple of months. She stops when the contractions hit, then resumes her stories. They seem to calm her down, and Richard chimes in now and then. It’s not very long after before Angie says,

“I feel like I need to push.” I jump up, press the call light, wash my hands, and put gloves on. Erin walks in.

“Angie says she feels like she needs to push.” Erin nods, and now it’s her turn to wash her hands.

“Go ahead and check her, Y/N.” I do as she tells me.

“10cm dilated and fully effaced. I can feel baby’s head.” I say. Erin nods, grabbing the sterile towels and blankets, and setting them up before paging the doctor on call.

“Y/N, you want to take the lead on this one?” I blink at her in surprise. I’ve never coached a woman through birth on my own yet. Erin just looks at me and I nod, situating myself at the end of the bed. I’ll move when the doctor gets here.

“I want to push,” Angie says.

“Do you want the stirrups?” Angie nods, and I swing them out, helping her legs get situated. “Dad, come and help me here.” Richard jumps up, already assuming his position on Angie’s right leg. Erin is on the other leg. “Erin, when is Dr. Rawlins going to get here?”

“He’s not answering his pager.”

“Are there any other L&D doctors on call?” Erin pauses and shakes her head. “Well, it looks like it’s just you and me, Angie.” She nods. “When you feel a contraction come on, I want you to take a deep breath in and hold it, bear down, and push until I tell you to let up, okay?”

“Okay, one’s coming on now.”

“Let’s do this, Angie, deep breath in. Hold it. Okay, push, push, push. Good! Let up and take a little break.” We do this for a few minutes, and the baby is moving, slowly but surely. The baby starts to crown and Angie insists that she can’t do it. “Angie, you’ve got this. You’re a strong woman, you can do anything. Come on, deep breath in, hold it, bear down and push! Yes! Head is out, good job Angie! Bear down for me again, and push!” My hands are ready and as Angie’s baby is delivered, I catch her newborn in my hands, rubbing her with a towel as she opens up her mouth and cries as she joins the world. Erin’s already pulling part of Angie’s gown down and when her baby is relatively clean, I carefully place her on Angie’s exposed skin. The baby continues to cry, and Angie and Richard start to cry as well.

“You did good,” Erin whispers to me. A little while later the cord is cut by Richard, and the placenta is delivered, and that’s when Dr. Rawlins decides to show up. Dr. Rawlins is notorious for never being where you need him. Erin and I exchange a look as Dr. Rawlins assesses the situation, gives his good wishes to the happy parents, and leaves again. Typical. We get Angie situated to spend some time with her new baby. Angie thanks us both profusely. “Hey, don’t thank me, Y/N did all the work!” Erin says with a smile. I get shy.

“What are you going to name her?” I ask.

“Felicity.”

“That’s beautiful!” Angie gives me a tired smile and Erin and I take our leave after cleaning up.

“So, what did you think, taking the lead?” Erin asks, grinning at me.

“Can I curse?” She lets out a laugh and nods. “That was fucking awesome.”

“Good. I mean it - you did well. Now you’ll have an adrenaline high for the rest of the day!”

And she’s right, I feel great the rest of the day, and before I head back to Hotch’s house, I check in on Angie one last time.

“Hey, Angie, I’m heading out for the day. Thank you for giving me the chance to learn from you today.” I say quietly, taking note of Richard and Felicity passed out on the makeshift couch bed.

“No, thank you, Y/N. You kept me sane.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Thank you.

-END OF CLINICAL DAY, NOTHING GRAPHIC AFTER THIS! tl;dr - Y/N helps a woman give birth and she thinks it's really cool! -

I head out to the parking lot and back to my car, getting home around 2:30, with plenty of time to shower before Jack gets off the bus. I strip off my scrubs and throw them in Hotch’s washer. I’m sure he won’t mind. I feel like an idiot trying to get it to work though, but I finally figure it out. I shower quickly, thinking back on my experience during clinical. I love shadowing Erin as she allows me a lot of freedom to interact with the patient, but getting to deliver a baby? That’s an adrenaline high I’m still trying to come off of. I step out of the shower, drying my hair some before slipping into my pajamas. I’m not going anywhere else today, I’m wiped. I let Cujo out back and wait for Jack to get off the bus. He’s right on time and sprints up the driveway to the front door, which I open for him.

“Y/N!” He shouts, as he drops his backpack and wraps his arms around me.

“Oh! Hey, Jack! How was school?”

“So much fun! We got to watch a movie today!”

“That’s so exciting!” He then looks at me and furrows his brow.

“Why are you in your pajamas already?” He asks, giggling.

“I already took my shower! I had a fun day at school too, and I needed to relax!”

“What did you do at school today?” He asks, eyes wide, and I chuckle at his comical face.

“I delivered a baby today!”

“GROOOOSSSSS!” He groans, running off to the back door to join Cujo outside. I smile to myself as I shut the front door and lock it. Jack is occupied by Cujo for the better part of an hour before he comes back inside and asks to play a game. We settle on Candyland, and the competition is cutthroat. I’m not going to lose just because I’m playing against a child. It was a close game, but Jack eventually won and gloated about it before stopping and asking for dinner. We do mac and cheese tonight. I cut up some fresh fruit while the noodles are boiling, and when it’s time to mix the mac and cheese, Jack asks to stir. I hold the pot so he can reach it and he furiously stirs the mac and cheese before letting me resume stirring it on the burner so the butter and cheese will actually melt and mix. We eat quietly, and before I know it it’s Jack’s bedtime. I tuck him in, and as I’m about to turn off the light, my phone chimes. It’s a text from Hotch.

“Jack, your dad will be back really late tonight!”

“Yay! I miss him.” Me too, buddy. Me too. I turn off the light and shut the door and head downstairs. I pull out my textbook and notes as I have a huge test next week and I want to do well on it. I’m so engrossed studying that when I check the time it’s already 10 PM. I hear the soft pad of feet that cannot be Cujo’s, as he’s already asleep on the couch. I turn and see Jack standing at the end of the couch and he yawns as he rubs his eyes.

“I had a nightmare and can’t fall back asleep.” He says softly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, come and sit with me.” I peel my blanket off my lap and he wordlessly slides in right next to me. I tuck my arm around him. “Do you want to talk about it?” He shakes his head no. “Okay, well, you can sit here as long as you like.” Within twenty minutes, he’s snoring softly, head tucked against my chest. I continue to study, and I don’t remember falling asleep.

A hand on my knee gently shakes me awake. I blink open my eyes and find Jack sprawled across me, half in my lap, my hand resting on his head that’s resting on my chest and when my eyes finally adjust to the soft light on the side table light I find myself looking at Hotch.

“Oh! Hi!” I whisper, voice scratchy. “What time is it?”

“Three. Jack has certainly gotten comfortable with you.” He says with a soft smile.

“Nightmare. We didn’t intend to fall asleep.”

“I can tell that by the textbook that’s still open in your lap.” I give him a sheepish smile, and he helps me push back the blanket covering Jack and I. Jack’s at an awkward angle, one that Hotch can’t comfortably carry him in, so I get off the couch slowly, Jack never wakes up, just clings to me like a baby sloth, ankles locking around my back as I take him to his room and tuck him in. When I turn to make my way out of his bedroom, Hotch is watching me with a curious expression on his face, one that I can’t quite place. He quickly schools his face into neutrality, moving out of the doorframe so I can leave the room and shut the door behind me.

“Tough case?” I ask, trailing him back to the kitchen as he opens the fridge and grabs the rest of the fruit that Jack and I didn’t eat for dinner.

“Just long.” He says with a sigh, unceremoniously shoving fruit into his mouth. “I can’t thank you enough for watching Jack.”

“Oh please, you don’t have to thank me. I had fun. He’s a sweet kid.” Hotch smiles to himself. “He’s lucky to have you as a father.” I watch as pink colors his cheeks. He clears his throat,

“Y/N, it just occurred to me, and I’m so sorry I didn’t ask sooner, but, where is your family from? Do you have family around here?” I’m a little jolted by the sudden attention on me, but I answer his question anyway knowing that he’s just deflecting from my compliment.

“I don’t have any family around here. We’re from all over though, my baba and I never stayed in one place for too long.”

“Your baba?”

“Sorry, that’s what I call my dad.” I shrug, a little embarrassed.

“Where is your dad now?”

“I’m not sure. He was always away on business trips when I was little, so I had to fend for myself a lot. My mom died when I was three, never really had extended family, so it was just me and Baba.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t remember her, though my dad says I look like her.”

“Do you have pictures of your family?”

“That’s the weird part - I don’t have pictures of either of my parents. My dad hated them, never took them, and never wanted to be in them. Sometimes I feel myself forgetting what he looks like, but I know if I see him in a crowd I would still be able to recognize him. When my dad disappeared for good when I was fifteen, I didn’t have anything to remember him by.” I pick at my cuticles as I overexplain the situation.

“Oh. That’s horrible.”

“Eh, it’s okay. My gut tells me he’s still alive, but I don’t know if I want to see him again after all these years. There was always something about him, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. His name was Isaac Smith, but I knew that wasn’t his real name. It’s like he was hiding himself and his life from me. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever know who he really was.”

“Well, I hope you find out someday. You know, for closure.”

“Yeah, me too.” He regards me, studying the planes of my face, brows furrowed as though he’s trying to figure something out.

“When I first saw you, you reminded me of someone I know, but I can’t quite figure out who.” He shakes his head. “Oh well, maybe it’ll come to me.”

“Well, if you figure it out, let me know,” I say with a chuckle.

“Hey, why don’t we have Garcia do some research on you? Try and find out who your dad is?” I swallow hard and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

He nods. “I respect that. But if you ever are ready, let me know, she’d happily do anything for you.”

“Thanks,” I say with a yawn.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m keeping you awake, aren’t I?”

“I don’t mind,” I say with a soft smile. “I delivered a baby today.” I don’t know why I want to tell him that, why I feel the urge to tell him everything about my life, but I’ll give into it anyway. His eyes widen.

“You delivered a baby?” I nod, grinning. “That’s so cool! Did you like it?”

“The adrenaline is like no other. It was a baby girl, the mom was so nice to me.”

“Of course she was, you’re like…like a shining beam of sun, lighting up wherever you go.” He says the last part quietly, not looking me in the eyes as if he wasn’t sure if he was going to say it or not. I feel my cheeks grow hot.

“Thank you,” I say thickly, and then yawn again.

“Okay, time for you to go to bed too, come on.” He says as he puts the fruit back in the fridge.

“What, are you gonna tuck me in?” I say with a mischievous grin.

“Only if I can read you a bedtime story.” He shoots back, mirroring my smile. I let out a soft laugh and he leaves me in the doorframe of the guest bedroom. “Thank you, Y/N. You saved my life this week.”

“Anytime, Hotch.”

“You can call me Aaron, you know.” I blink in surprise. “Hotch is fine, but you’re welcome to call me Aaron.”

“Okay…Aaron.”

chapter five - coming soon!

TAG LIST (want to be added? click here!): @iameternallylonely @morgthemagpie @mrs-ssa-hotch @angelmather1 @laubeck10 @rousethemouse @scarlett-jade3 @ssalinaprentiss @alexa-33 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x y/n #hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #matd!hotch #meandthedevil!hotch

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teabutmakeitazure · 2 years

Text

Twisted but Tender - 2: Thawing the Ice

>Yan! Childe x Fem! Reader

a/n: fun fact this was actually the premise of a different fic but for some reason I made it a part 2 to this one. There's nothing explicitly yandere here though. I promise it gets better. It's just a bit odd at the start because of the feeble attempts at world building.

Warning: mentions of self-harm

Series Masterlist

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The coat he wears seems too thin for the weather. He's going to freeze to death someday with that. Whenever you go out, your face is barely visible in the thick layers while he just puts on one coat, a pair of gloves and just... leaves. You try your best not to scold him for that lest he mistakes it for you caring for him.

Just what is this guy made of?

"You're staring."

You snap back to reality, "Sorry."

"No no," a grin finds way onto his face, "keep going. I was waiting for you to come around."

"Despite your proudness in reading people like books, you don't understand me even half of the time."

"Well, communication is key in a relationship is it not? You don't talk to me much, so how can you expect me to know you so well."

Great, now this is turning into the everyday banter. A boring exchange that only leaves you in a foul mood. Insufferable, how characteristic of him. You opt to stay quiet, softly watching him get dressed from your seat at the edge of the bed. Thank goodness he had the decency to at least wear his shirt when he came in. It wasn't buttoned but at least he wasn't half naked.

"Just when I thought you'ld finally talk to me, you go quiet." He looks at your reflection in the mirror, frowning, and you look back. It's odd. That expression he has, it almost seems sad. No, he doesn't deserve your pity. He's far from normal, far from sane. There's no reason for you to feel bad for him. Stop feeling bad.

A sigh and he pats his disheveled hair down, "I didn't want to leave today. It's a pain to always have to go out and handle matters when I want to just stay home for a while. Nonetheless, my duties must be carried out and swiftly." He turns and saunters over to you, grabbing your attention and making you face him. "I hope you won't do anything while I'm gone. Please? I'ld rather not come home to see you trying something stupid."

"The most I'ld do is crack open a window to get some air in," you deadpan. He reaches up a hand and cups your cheek. Despite your efforts to not lean into it, you feel yourself wanting more. It almost makes you miss the soft look in his eyes. Needy, sure, but you're prideful too.

"Please don't hurt yourself this time."

Ah right, you slightly burned yourself with hot water last time. In all honesty, that was an embarrassing attempt at making tea. You ended up getting first degree burns and a strict questioning from him when he came back. It's a miracle he hasn't seen the new marks on your arms. Who knows what hell would break loose then.

And just like that, a wide grin is back onto his face. "Try not to miss me too much."

You thought he'ld be gone till late in the night but he came back in the late afternoon. Only a few hours of him being gone. Correction, only a few peaceful hours.

Now that he's back, he's staring you down like a hawk from a distance as you try your best to focus on a book you managed to bring from home. A bitter memory.

The silence of the living room and the ticking of the clock are the only thing your mind is registering as the background. Most of it is a blur as you try your best to focus. But those piercing blue eyes, goodness it feels as though you've been put under a spell. For the who knows what time, you ask yourself, just what is this guy made of?

A few minutes pass and he shifts his position to dangle his legs off the single seater couch. That gaze doesn't even falter when he does so. It's unnerving and you're fighting back the urge to either tell him to stop or get up and leave.

You chose the latter.

However, he follows behind you like a baby duckling with its mother, feet padding across the wooden floor. You have half a heart to send him a glare but you refrain.

With someone who craves excitement and action, it's best to be neutral.

When you seat yourself down in the study - if you can even call it that given he doesn't let you spend time there when he's home - he props himself onto a chair near the bookshelf. His staring resumes.

With a sigh, you look into your book again. That's when he speaks up, "You've been oddly quiet ever since I came back."

"Aren't I always quiet?"

"In a way but right now, it feels that something is off."

With those words, the half fresh marks on your arm start to throb and you swallow nervously. Luckily, you think of a counter, "Your stare. It's unnerving. Cut it out, please?"

His eyes widen but he switches back to a neutral expression, "I remember you telling me not to look at you with that look you hate but really? Can I just not admire you?"

"You're gawking at me. It's weird!"

"Oh," he smiles, "I suppose it's fine considering that we're married."

"That doesn't excuse the creepiness! It feels like you're trying to cut me open and disassemble me. Gives me the creeps."

"I'ld actually like that. Would be helpful in getting to know why you hate me so much."

"Had I hated you, I wouldn't even be conversing with you."

He gasps, "So you finally love me?"

"Goodness no! I'm trying to stay neutral, but you're making it very hard right now."

You can't even begin to fathom how he went to such a brash conclusion. Even worse, you can't believe you're stuck with him for the rest of your now surely miserable life.

The howling winds take some of your little to give attention and you have an idea. You look into his eyes and speak up. "Ajax, aren't you cold when you leave with just a thin coat on?"

He smiles lovingly at the use of his name, "It's lined with a little something that traps body heat really well so it's equivalent to three layers. Convenient because it doesn't hinder movement."

"Huh, sounds neat."

His smile doesn't falter. It stays the same, wide and loving. It makes you want to grab his face and just ask him what his deal is. Does he want you to suffer or to be happy with you? Did he, quite literally, take you away just to have someone to live with or was there something else? Something like the fear of losing something or someone to circumstance?

You are again at conflict with yourself. 'Do I hate him or not? He's loose in the head but is that even excusable? What do I do?'

As you internally debate, all the while squinting your eyes at him, he seems to have an idea. You don't even register him walking to you and kneeling down in front of you.

And you sure as hell don't register both his hands coming up to cup your entire face. It's the sensation that brings you back.

"W-what are you doing," you manage to breathe out with warm cheeks.

His cheeks flush and the tips of his ears redden as well, "Trying to figure out what's wrong."

"What do you mean? I was only trying to read a book. Your staring was too distracting."

He shakes his head and you eye the hair that bounces around his eyes. "I saw your arm when I woke up. Your sleeve was pulled up while you were sleeping."

No no no no no no no-

"What's going on?"

It's at this moment when you miss the times where he'ld threaten and isolate you. It's right to hate him for those actions but what about this? When did you give in? Why did you give in? The previous moment of surrendering was long gone, and you wanted to go back to not saying a word and scowling when he got too close. So why did you allow him to be so close? That too with his hands cradling your face like applying a little too much pressure would break you.

When did you get so weak?

All you can do is stare at him wide eyed. Just what do you say at a moment like this? 'Oh yeah, I just like to watch the fluid in my tissues rise to the surface of broken skin and the little dots of blood slowly form a constellation of pain.'

You stay silent.

His gaze, however, remains fixed. It's like he knows what his eyes do to you. They're a contrast to the cold world outside this house. An ocean, a warm one. That's what each of those blue eyes are. Sometimes they just love to drown you as you beg for air.

"I didn't think you'ld be this sick of me." He tuts, "And just when I thought we were finally getting better too."

You want to say something so bad but you won't in fear of revealing too much. He doesn't have to know this side of you, for it's none of his business. That excuse won't hold him back though. You do hope that your frantic heartbeat does do something to soften him and leave you alone. After all, you are his soft spot.

He keeps staring into your eyes like he's searching for something. A weakness perhaps? Something to exploit that would guarantee you answering him. It's his go-to plan, to find a way and use it to his advantage. That's what harbingers specialise in. Nevertheless, despite his mind games, he doesn't have the resolve to mentally toy with you too much. You're already like a little blooming flower in his eyes. One that's struggling to grow in this cold, merciless land and desperately needs the help of its lovely gardener to take care of it. To make sure it survives.

"Do you despise me? Or maybe," he half closes his eyes, "you hate me for what I did to you."

Sensing that there's a chance to divert the conversation, you reply, "I don't hate you for it. What I do hate, however, is the fact that I can understand your actions from a perspective. That still doesn't excuse it though."

"Well I'm glad to hear that there's still hope for you to like me again."

'I still do like you, you idiot.'

"I wouldn't recommend letting it get to your head." He chuckles, "I'ld never dream of it."

You scoff in return, and he lets go of his hands to hold yours in his. With his thumbs brushing over yours, you can feel your internal 'issues' coming to rest. It's serene, short-lived.

"What do I have to do to get you to talk to me?" His question was a whisper, and his voice almost sounded desperate. It makes your heart ache that someone usually so strong and carefree is desperate for an answer just because of you.

Against your better judgement, you speak with the same exhaustion as the time you first hugged him. "I'll talk to you but please," there's heavy desperation in your voice, "promise to love me."

"I already do."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere ajax #twistedbuttender

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