#i might try to find other birds to match

[phatburd]

(Some of) Napoleon’s Marshals … as birds.

For @flowwochair ✌️

Bessières

Davout

Murat

Masséna

Soult

Ney

Lannes

Gouvion St. Cyr, because of course

And not-Marshal Junot

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 , hsr men !

side comments: i love old jazzy tunes or old songs in general. i usually don't do this kind of fic but i wanted to try something new.

extra: gn reader, fluff, all hsr men except yanqing & misha word count: 434

Other arms reach out to me Other eyes smile tenderly Still in peaceful dreams I see The road leads back to you. 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 / Ray Charles

Despite age the two of you bustle about; committing your duties be it work or another passion. Perhaps either of you transverse the cosmos. However, when Twilight's wings gingerly take you under its folds, the two of you melt into one like candle wax dripping down its holder. No matter what path each of you treads- you are bound no matter the state. Thus, under the duvet covers and the unspoken lullabies of the night, he presses kisses on your wrinkled eyes like gemstones while slowly caressing your furrowed hand with a gentleness only matched by the lightness of a feather and the warmth of a beating heart. It is instinctive like blinking, like drawing air into the lungs. Rest now in silence for neither of you needed to say a word, another day will come and nights of blossoming devotion will echo into eternity.

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 . Dan Heng . 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎 . 𝐋𝐔𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀 . Gepard . 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍 . 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 . Blade . 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 . Sam . + any of your favourites

Just one look at you My heart grew tipsy in me You and you alone Bring out the Gypsy in me I love all the many charms about you Above all, I want my arms about you 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 / Judy Garland

Your limbs might not take you far now, but he'll twirl you in the air like a star and tease you until your cheeks ache from laughter. The glimmer and shine of that first date still trails behind the two of you: stardust in the wind, wings that seldom break. You two still share that hidden kiss in public and search for treasures amongst a sea of rust. Giddy and unfettered, the two of you are like birds spinning in the air; chasing each other in fits of uncontrolled laughter. Blush still brushing against your sagging cheeks and the tipsyness of a night still young, his own heart enthralled as the first time he met you. The throng can stare if they want; asking why not sit down? Would you like some help? That's fine, he'll still banter and pursue adoration as if it's not already tucked in his arms. Because despite his gradually wilting eyes and worn-out knees, he'll still bow down and press his head against your stomach, whispering, "mine."

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 . Argenti . 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍 . 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐎 . 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐀 . Gallager . 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 . + any of your favourites

At last My love has come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 / Etta James

The two of you have mellowed over the years, lost some hair and found comfort in blue skies, the pit pat of rain and sand between your toes. Perhaps the two of you find a house in the countryside or build a home on a distant planet found in cup boards and the warmth of an oven. Perhaps you settle under the blanket of the universe; allowing your eyes to trace the sun inching down the walls of your shared home. The two of you spend your days lying languidly on the couch, days drifting into melodies spent well and arms entangled as one. He never would've thought that his heart could slow and his soul mellow like a distant breeze. His eyes drifted towards your figure, a pleasant smile reaching his lips.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 . Welt . Gepard . 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 . Dr. Ratio . 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 . 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆 . Jing Yuan . Luocha . + any of your favourites

masterlist.

[moonstruckme]

Hey girl. I saw you were asking for whimsical!reader. The one that you did with James was so cute!!! Could we get another part to that? Also you’re one of my fave authors on here.❤️❤️

Hey babe, so honored! There are so many amazing writers on here, so I really appreciate you taking the time to read my stories :) Thanks for requesting love!

cw: hurt (not direly) animal

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 846 words

“Jamie, do we have any seeds?” James hears you enter through the front door. He turns down the TV to hear you better. 

“Seeds?” he asks. “Like, for gardening? I don’t think so, love.” 

“No, like sunflower seeds.” Your voice fades as you move into the kitchen, cupboard doors opening and closing. “Or actually, kale would do. Can I use some of your kale, please?” 

“What?” He gets up to go to you. “What are you making?” 

James finds you standing in front of the refrigerator, trying to tear open his container of kale with one hand and cradling an alarmingly complaisant-looking bird in the other. 

“Sweetheart,” James says slowly. You tilt your head at him. “Is that a baby bird?” 

“Of course not.” You smile guilelessly, eyelashes kissing at the corners. “Don’t be silly, I know better than to take a baby bird away from its nest. This is a bullfinch. It’s an adult, they’re just small.” 

He nods. “And why’ve you brought it inside, lovie?” 

“Because something’s wrong with it,” you say softly, as if wary of the bird overhearing. “It flew into Mrs. Hutchinson’s window—you know, the older woman down the way? Anyway, it’s alive, but I think it’s in shock or something. See how it’s letting me hold it in my hand?” 

James says that he does. 

“It shouldn’t be doing that,” you finish somberly.

You’re telling him. 

“But I’m fairly sure you’re not supposed to touch wild birds,” he worries, fighting vigorously against the urge to take the thing from your hand. “They carry diseases, don’t they?” 

“I’ll wash my hands.” You finally get the kale open, taking out a few leaves and holding them in front of the bird. “I couldn’t just leave it, Jamie. Mrs. Hutchinson has a cat. What if it had found it all frightened like this?” 

James takes a breath and forces himself to remember that these are the things he loves about you. Though he does prefer when your kinder traits don’t come at the risk of avian disease. 

“It’s not eating,” you fret, watching as the poor thing’s reddish belly pumps with quick, tiny breaths. “Do you think we should give it some water too?” 

“Can’t hurt,” James agrees, grabbing a small dish and filling it from the tap. “Why don’t you bring our little friend outside? We can put this stuff on the ground and see if it’ll eat then.” 

He doesn’t add that despite its equanimous facade, the bird is probably scared shitless sitting in your hand like that. You take to his suggestion happily, leading the way out to James’ small porch. You set the bird down gingerly. James does his best to match your carefulness, placing the little dish of water and a few pieces of kale in front of it. 

“Come on, lovely,” you coo, voice extra soft and sweet for the small creature. 

James’ chest aches at the sound of it. If this bird dies, he’s going to have to arrange a whole funeral for your sake. 

“Let’s give it some space,” he says gently, wrapping his fingers around your waist to encourage you back towards the door. “It might be too scared to eat with us around.” 

You press your lips together as you nod. James nuzzles your hair compassionately. The pair of you sit on his doorstep in silence, you gnawing your lip raw and him reminding himself repeatedly not to hold your hand. After what feels like hours, the bird moves. 

Its head twitches towards where you sit, and then, without even touching the meal you’d set out for it, it flies off. 

Ungrateful prick, James thinks. 

The sigh that leaves you is so loud that he starts to panic before he sees the relief on your face. 

“It’s okay,” you say, not quite teary but looking dangerously close. 

“It is,” James affirms. He’s unable to keep from smiling, you look so adorably thrilled. “It may not have had much appetite, but you saved it, angel.” 

“Did you see the way it looked at us?” You’re awed, looking up at him with huge eyes. “It knew. It could tell we were the ones that helped it.” 

James isn’t sure he can get fully on board with that theory, but he’s not going to burst your bubble. 

“I’m sure it did,” he says, standing and taking your wrists in his hands. You get up too, and James holds your hands out away from you, shouldering open the door to go back inside. 

You follow him gamely. “What are we doing?” 

He leads you over to the sink, forcing you to keep your hands in front of you like a surgeon’s the entire way. “Washing your hands,” he replies. “Don’t need you falling ill from some rare bird disease.”

“I don’t think our friend would have given me any diseases,” you say, though you don’t resist when he holds your hands under the hot water, pumping soap into them. “It liked me, I think.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt it did, sweetheart. But just to be sure.” 

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

All Kinds of Trouble

Alfie Solomons x Reader, Fluff, 1.2k words

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Hi guys!! Ok so maybe hiatus is over? I'm trying to be gentle with myself and not hold myself to high standards in posting schedules. Again, therapy and Bar prep are a lot to handle rn, but I was able to do this little piece! This is based of a request sent in by my sweet friend @jassiefayee !!!! I hope you enjoy this angel!! Anyway, love you all so much! Have an amazing day!

Alfie didn’t find peace in many things. The business and all. Made him toss and turn at night, and in the daylight caused him to explode from the pure idiocy of people around him.

But walks in the park with Cyril? Now that gave him peace. With Cyril by his side, anyone who may have wanted to cause trouble stayed far away. Cyril’s imposing stature and mean looking face kept many men looking to scrap at bay, but little did they know that Cyril was by far the sweetest dog in Camden. And the fresh air did Alfie good. Being out in the park, feeling the breeze, hearing children and birds milling about created a sort of temple for him. A quiet place for him to let his mind rest, talk to himself (or God if he had a particular question), or just hum to the beat of Cyril's paws on the ground. This was his rest. This was his peace.

Now it should be noted, that one of the reasons that Alfie loved this particular park was that it was free of distractions for both him and Cyril. While Cyril was a very sweet and good natured dog who hardly ever caused an unnecessary ruckus, he was still a dog. And dogs have this strange habit, if not fantastic ability, to completely change the course of their owner's life.

So it was during a brisk walk on a fine November day where Alfie was suddenly pulled with all the force of heaven’s angels by Cyril’s lead through the park. And just as quick as he was yanked he was halted, nearly tripping over his boots and coat, and falling into Cyril and what might possibly be one of those treacherous angels.

It had become a relatively new habit for you to take a few moments of your day to sit in the park. Whether strolling, reading, or simply listening to the music of the city, you found the meditative state you entered in the park particularly divine. Spending all day cooped up in the house was not doing anyone any favors, and your mother insisted that you look at the sky, breathe in fresh air, or do something to get your energy out. And you enjoyed the respite from your family’s eyes and ears, and the view you caught of other people’s comings and goings. Often making up stories for the familiar faces that passed your eyes.

You had seen Mr. Solomons and his a dog before. It was hard to miss them. Both imposing. Even if Mr. Solomons wasn’t physically too tall, the air in which he carried himself made him seem absolutely monstrous. And the dog he walked along with came with a silent stature to match. When you mentioned to your mother that Mr. Solomons frequented your park, she all but forbid you to go to the park again. He was dangerous. A brute. Nothing good was associated with him. He was an animal. Damned.

Everyone in Camden had a story about Mr. Solomons. Even if they personally had never met him, they knew someone who knew someone who had crossed his path and suffered greatly. Fewer than those who crossed his path, were the women who had the pleasure of spending an evening with him. Demanding. Particular. Incredibly cross with hardly a smile crossing his firm mouth and creased brow. You had heard them all, many a time. And each time you heard the stories more fantastical and gory and outrageous they became. From the way the neighbors spoke of him, he might has well been an ogre who ate good men for supper. A confidant of the devil himself.

Yet those stories never deterred you from letting your eyes wander over to him when he made his way to the park. Surely observing doesn’t damn one’s soul right? And wondering if stories are true surely cannot condemn. Besides, he was never close enough to truly make a difference. A glance and gaze and thought were all that you experienced with the fearsome King of Camden. Until this afternoon, when that monstrous dog came charging at you with a gleeful and slobbery smile. And for whatever reason you never moved from your seat. You stayed planted on your spot on the bench, waiting for whatever was to come. And your supposed attack was merely a disgusting kiss to the neck and chin from the dog, and happy pants from it as well. It’s master, cursing and bellowing at hundred pound puppy who was uninterested in the threats of its flustered master.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the reddened face of Mr. Solomons, clearly out of breathe from the exertion of the sudden chase. “Mr. Solomons are you quite alright? Do you need to sit?”

“Hmm? No, no don’t worry about me angel, m’fine. This damn dog knows better than to run full force in a park. You alright love? Hope Cyril didn’t scare ya.”

You smiled warmly at him, and he was convinced he must have died in the chase and gone to Heaven. Your sweet eyes and tempting lips all too pretty to be here in Camden. You scratched Cyril’s ears before answering, "Oh no Mr. Solomons, I'm fine. Cyril here is very very sweet."

"Now treacle, I think I'm at a disadvantage. Don't like that at all me. Now how is it yeah, that you know my name and now my dog's name... but I don't get to know your name sweetness?"

With a quirked brow you answer, "Oh Mr. Solomons, everyone knows your name. The ferocious King of Camden, and his demon dog. Lots of tales about you Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie allowed himself a smile at your cheek, “Lots of stories eh? Which one is your favorite?”

“The one where you bested the devil himself in a game of chess and won the keys to hell.”

Alfie made himself comfortable next to you on the bench, making sure that his thigh touched yours, “Is that so? Your mum tell you that little one?”

You shook your head, “No sir. She told me I wasn’t to go near you.”

“And yet here you are, talking to bad men. Tsk tsk tsk. Naughty ain’t you?”

“It’s fun to be naughty sometimes. Don’t you agree Mr. Solomons?”

Alfie couldn’t help but bring his shiny rings to your cheek, taking stock of your face. You never flinched away, keeping fiery eyes locked on his. He hummed a tune you didn’t know, and stated, “There’s an opera tonight at 8. You’ll come with me. Wear something nice.”

“I don’t go to operas with strange men.”

“I don’t go to operas with strange women. Yet here we are sweet. I thought you liked being naughty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his brazenness. In truth, you couldn’t believe you allowed yourself to get this far. But it was too delicious to let go now. “You’ll pick me up on the corner of 10th and Victoria? At 6pm.”

“Now what will I do with you for two hours before the play treacle?”

You shrugged, “Show me how the King of Camden has a good night.”

Alfie laughed heartily, “Fuck me you really are a bad little thing aren’t you. Alright sweetness, I’ll pick you up there at 6. And let’s see what we can get up to.”

[stereodaydreams]

Safe & Sound

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader, 2.3k (18+, smut, oral(f!reciving), pnv sex, established relationships, use of baby/baby girl, no y/n, smidge of angst)

Notes: I write for another fandom in a different blog and couldn’t help but jump on the Miguel train. 💛✨

-

18+

-

Nueva York’s metro moves like a metal bullet tearing into a lavender and yellow sunrise. Birds break out into the skies, traveling from one tree to the next. Steam rises from vents as those waking rush to heat their homes, covering the streets and taxis in a man made fog. The thick mist drifts past cafes where open signs have just flipped and welcome bells ring. But high up on the 76th floor of a condominium, two bodies intertwine beneath warm sheets, too far to be awoken by the commotion.

Miguel’s legs drape over the edge of a bed, bare feet caught in strips of golden sunlight. It’s a king sized bed and somehow he manages to spill out of it, especially when he bullies his way over into your side, broad shoulders blotting out the sun and keeping you in the shadows where your sleep remains undisturbed.

There’s a wide gap from where his side of the bed should be. No matter how many times you tease him about a hostile takeover of what little domain you have of the king sized mattress, Miguel finds a way to fit himself around you. Your bare skin is warm and soft against his. You smell like a blend of your body wash, the pile of bed sheets, and a little like him and it drives him fucking wild. He’ll take whatever time he can have pressed up against you because... well.

Being Spider-Man is more demanding than a full time job. Try as hard as he might, there are nights where his superhero duties don’t end in a timely fashion and you sleep alone with a hand on his pillow. He tells you it’s because no one else can do what he does and… well, it’s half of the truth.

“I’m the one and only Spider-Man,” he laments to you. “The city needs me.”

“You have to come back in one piece. Promise?” you ask as worry etches itself on your face and on your body.

Large fingers wrap around your chin and Miguel pulls you in for a chaste but sweet kiss. Brown eyes blink slowly and his cheeks wrinkle in a smile.

“Always,” Miguel answers.

While you know his big superhero secret identity, there’s another secret that’s he’s been keeping from you— a little white lie. Miguel O’Hara is the only Spider-Man of Earth-928 but he’s not the only Spider-Man. He’s seen alternate realities, other universes where he’s an ordinary man working at a lab while a teenager gets bit and becomes Spider-Man or one where he’s a bodybuilder turned movie star. The multiverse is vast and entertaining to pick apart until Miguel gets a peek of realities that make his stomach twist and drop.

The fortunate events which link you two together often leads to roads where one of you is doomed to an early grave. So he decides he doesn’t want to leave your lives up to chance. Everyday, he whittles at his algorithms, tinkers with new wrist tech, all in the hopes of containing the status quo of his reality.

Miguel’s confident. Statistically, there has to be a reality where it all ends well for you both and it very well may be this one.

He watches your chest rise and fall as you doze and slowly moves his arm from your waist to your wrist. His fingers idly trace a band of metal on your ring finger and he smiles to himself, turning his gaze to a matching gold band on his hand.

You’re his, as he is yours and you are here, alive and safe and—

Miguel buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Your back tenses as you wake, lungs inflating from a quick and deep inhale. With one eye open, you find the time on a wall clock and wince at the numbers you see.

“Mig…” you protest. It’s early, but not unreasonably so and you wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t your day off together. No superhero business, no work calls, just the two of you and a lazy morning. “Five more minutes. No… wait, half an hour.”

“Baby,” he purrs back in your ear.

You make a noise while burying your face into the pillow, your body twisting away from his grasp. Miguel laughs and exhales a warm breath that tickles the nape of your neck.

“Are you still tired?” he asks, voice low and laced with desire.

You know that tone and if his wandering hands slipping from your waist to your backside are any kind of indicator, Miguel won’t be letting you slumber for much longer. You can’t help it. Your back arches to his touch, lips parting in a half moan.

“Mhmm,” you mumble, your face digging into cotton as you nod. “Can’t wake up m’too sleepy.”

He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back. You’re lucky he finds you cute. Miguel’s palm grips your butt and gives it a small squeeze before the weight behind you dips as he shuffles his large body further down the bed. His hands engulf your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls them apart. You’ve no choice but to reorient yourself onto your back, following his movement down your thighs.

“Mig, what are you up to?” You eye him warily with a lazy smile tugging at your lips. Your vision blurs as your eyelids threaten to shut.

He lays a kiss on your inner thigh. Bright red tints the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over and replace the soft brown.

“Do you need help waking up?” At your nod, he continues, “That’s what I’m up to.”

He smirks, fangs catching the light of the morning sun and it’s gone once his face dips lower. His tongue drags along the seam of your sex, dipping between your folds for a quick taste. Miguel lets out a rumbling sound, pushing his face in deeper to breathe you in. Your fingers work their way into his hair but your grip is loose, a sleepy sort of pawing at his head. Still half awake, your thighs are slack, tensing only as his tongue rises and reaches a hard nub of nerves.

“Mig…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s my baby. Come here.”

A hand wraps around your back and lifts your hips up for him while thick fingers prod at your cunt. Miguel wraps his lips around your clit, licking flat, broad strokes as amber eyes watch you writhe and jolt beneath him.

“You don’t look so sleepy anymore,” he goads. You shake your head and he chuckles. “No?”

“Nuh uh-h. Oh god—”

He eases two fingers in knuckle deep, groaning at how wet they get. Pumping them in slowly, Miguel curls them around sensitive nerves, feeling you clench down on his hand. It’s easy to lose yourself to the feel of your husband’s mouth on you and the stretch of his fingers pounding into you, but you eventually notice something’s off.

You can feel him grinning while he licks and swirls his tongue around your swollen nub, hands beginning to slow to a halt. His fingers pull almost all the way out you, causing your eyes to finally open and a noise of protest leaves your lips.

“Mig—” you begin, swallowing down a hiccupy moan. “Miguel, please.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, shrugs his shoulders like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Wicked as ever, his tongue moves at unrelenting speeds. Heat flares from your abdomen, thighs twitching out of your control. Between you and him, there’s a damp mess between your legs as Miguel bullies your clit. Your hips try to chase his fingers as they leave you for good, desperate to clench around something, anything. You let out a sob when he stops to press a kiss to your clit.

“Babe!” you cry out, pulling harshly at his hair.

His face rises just enough for you to spot how drenched his chin is. A pink tongue darts around his lips and he smirks.

“You want it, baby girl?” His voice takes on a rougher quality as he challenges you. Large fingers push at your cunt, almost in but not quite. “Work for it.”

Your limbs are still heavy from sleep but the need to feel Miguel makes you roll your hips until you feel yourself push down and squeeze around his fingers. He doesn’t move though, grins wider while he watches you fuck yourself on his hand.

“Isn’t that better?” Miguel asks like he doesn’t know the answer. The hand on your back slips away, flattening onto the bed as he rises above you. You’re too busy trying to follow his other hand to realize he’s right by your head, wide shoulders blotting out the morning sun.

Breath hot and heavy, he snarls in your ear, “Does it feel good when you listen?”

“Mhmm!”

You cling to him, clumsily grabbing his arms as an anchor. Between gasps and moans, his name is a chant on your lips, drawing him closer.

Miguel’s an odd entity. Without the mask, he’s soft with you, cracks smiles throughout the day and fills your ears with loving whispers of devotion. He’s not demanding of you in the way that he is with his team of superheroes at his beck and call. You’ve overheard him being prickly and impatient when things don’t go to his plans, seen him bare his teeth in anger. But never at you.

In here, where the sheets are silken, the atmosphere a little lighter, a little slower… Miguel’s a different man.

“You’re so close… I can feel it,” he growls out. He places a hand on your hip to still your twisting form and it’s infuriating how little effort he uses to hold you like a limp doll. With slick sounds, his fingers slide in and out of you, dragging across taut nerves. “Not yet, baby girl. Not yet.”

“Mig, please. I need you. I need…”

“Hmm?” He lays a kiss on your cheek, lips lifting in a smirk. Miguel wanders down, repeating his hummed reply, kissing your jaw and nipping at your neck. “Say it again.”

You whine and rake your nails across the broad expanse of his shoulders, drawing red lines on sun-kissed skin. “Need you in me, Miguel.”

Your words seep through his skin and into his bones. Every fiber of him aches for you. He’s the king of edging himself, of self control as he fights to ignore the throbbing twitch of his cock. You call to him once more, needy and desperate for him, and Miguel’s done. His hips rut forward, seeking your soaked cunt and he finds it, the fat head of him nudging at your entrance.

He groans out your name, head hung forward and his hands splaying around your face. The sheets strain from his claws retracting and returning and all you see in his eyes are red. Miguel’s shoulders push into the backs of your knees as he hinges forward, forcing your thighs further open for him. There’s mumbled Spanish flowing past his lips as he claims you slowly, your husband taking his sweet time filling you up.

“Fuck, sweet girl. My wife. So fucking tight for me,” he groans.

The pace he sets is fast and devastatingly deep. Miguel reaches spots that makes you incoherent, makes your head toss back as you spew whatever your fucked out mind can give him. It’s messy, rough and he fucks you like you’d never break. And you never do. You always give him what he needs and knowing that brings him to his knees.

Red eyes find you in the waves of passion and Miguel’s looking at you as though this moment is finite. He’s never going to tell you about the other you’s— can’t let you know the statistics which haunt him daily.

Instead, Miguel devours your every moan, lips crushing yours so he can taste you as you tremble. You’re impossibly tight around him, muscles clamping down on him and skin slick with sweat. Your nails mark his back and shoulders, smaller fingers winding into his curls and tugging hard. He can feel you falling off the edge and leans into it, all too happy to chase the end with you.

His hand works its way between you, firm thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. There’s no reprieve from the cascade of sensations he’s building. Miguel chases your climax until you come around him with a cry of his name.

“Yes, baby girl. Fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

Hips rutting faster, cock pushing you towards hypersensitivity, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you in close. His back muscles seize beneath your hands as he comes with a groan. Miguel’s muttering your name in a breathy chant, hips slowing to a roll as more of his thick spend fills you.

His nose bumps yours, eyes brimming with warmth and fondness. It should feel dirty and hot with how wet it sounds between your legs but you don’t hear it when Miguel murmurs in your ear.

“Still sleepy?” he coos.

You grab at his cheeks and squeeze, receiving an eye roll on his part. He’s handsome but stubborn, your husband.

“Mig…” you laugh. “Can’t feel my bones after that.”

He nuzzles your cheek and hums an acknowledgment. You’re warm, still clinging to him in more than one way. Outside, the sky’s turned blue as the sun finds its way through the windows, shining brightly on your skin. Beads of sweat caught on your neck and chest glitter in the light. He’s never seen anything as beautiful as you.

“Breakfast?” he offers.

“Shower,” you insist and twist your hips to remind him of the stickiness which coats both your bodies.

“Mmm. But I like you like this,” Miguel teases. He rolls his hips, cock still hard and buried deep, eliciting a moan from your lips. “So full of me, baby.”

“I like it, too,” you answer and squeeze his cheek again.

Miguel smiles as if he’s a man unburdened. Here in Spiderman 2099’s universe, you’re safe and sound.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: double chapter friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You put on the outfit Sy picked out. The lilac skirt and the matching razor back tank top are a bit mismatched in style but the colour is almost exact. You add a silver necklace to add a bit more to the top and even out top and bottom. 

You take out a pair of white keds and slip them on. As you do, Sy stand on the door mat with Aika prancing excitedly around him. He deepens his voice and tells her to sit. She obeys, still trembling with elation as he hooks her leash into place. 

As you stand, you find his attention on you. His eyes scale up and down your body as you brush your hand up and down one arm. He tilts his head and his cheek dimples as he exhales through his nose.  

“Well, let’s go,” he commands and Aika jumps to her feet as you nearly leap in place. 

He opens the door, your keys already in his pocket, and he waits for you to go ahead of him. He turns to face the door as he shuts it. He has the leash around two fingers as he slides the keys in the lock and turns. 

As he turns towards the hall, he stops and looks at you. You waver, uncertainly, cautious of a single misstep. He offers the leash. 

“Why don’t you take her, sweetie?” He says, “two of you needa get used to each other.” 

You take the leash as Aika waits patiently. At least she’s trained well. You only ever had cats so you’re not entirely sure about dogs. They’re cute, sure, but a lot stronger. 

You continue down the hall and to the stairs. Sy walks calmly beside you. You’re happy at least that the rage no longer roils off of him, though a tension remains. You sense it in the subtle twiddle of his thick fingers and the way he keeps popping and cracking his joints. 

Outside, the sun glints blindingly above, casting a shine much too bright for your mood. Aika stops and the leash tugs in your hand. You turn back as she pees in the grass and step closer to slacken the leash. Oops. You make a face. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re doing good,” Sy encourages, “she can be a bit wild when she wants to. Probably more like you than you think.” 

His suggestion makes you want to frown but you won’t let him see your discomfort. You continue down the sidewalk, keeping pace with the sniffing dog as Sy lazily swaggers behind you. She stops again then crosses to the other patch of grass. You follow her. 

If it wasn’t for your company, you might enjoy the day. There’s bumblebee’s digging into stores of pollen, buzzing around vibrant petals, and birds cheeping from the interior of bushes, and wispy clouds across the sky. You might have taken a picture or two, even though your phone lens rarely catches the true beauty of the world. 

You continue around the corner and suddenly Aika darts forward. She pulls you nearly off your feet and you stomp clumsily after her, trying not to topple. You see what she sees only as she gets within snapping distance of the fluffy cat. The feline hisses before dashing away and you pull back the barking dog. 

“Aika,” Sy says firmly and quiets the canine, “good girl.” 

The silt in his voice makes even you freeze. You peek back at him and hold out the loop of the leash. You recoil as you notice the phone in his hand. Your phone. The little pearly wrist band hangs from the corner of the blush pink case. He has the lens aimed right at you. 

“Say hi,” he waves from his side of the phone, “got my girls out for a nice walk in the sun.” 

“What are you--” you quiet, realising what must be going on. 

“Your fans want to see you, sweetie,” he chimes. “Isn’t she cute? My lady. Waited for me so long.” 

He turns the camera around, holding it at arm’s length as he comes to stand beside you and faces the sunlight. You gulp as his hand goes to your hip and he pulls you close, leaning in to press his jaw to your head, angling the phone up to capture both of you. You try to smile. 

“Finally going public,” he sounds almost giddy, “military sh—stuff. Couldn't disclose it til I got home but here we are.” 

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. He purrs and slowly releases you. He stands straight and backs up, once more aiming the camera at you. You feel like you might shatter into pieces. 

“We’re gonna grab some coffee. There’s a cafe around here. You’ll remember it. She did a live back in March. Got the vanilla chai, didn’t you, sweetie? I been waiting this long to get back and try it with her,” he commentates, oblivious to the people who glance in his direction. He keeps his arm extended. “Go on, Aika’s getting antsy.” 

You look down at the dog and she looks up at you. You spin and continue down the pavement. You should scream and shout and tell the world that this man is crazy. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s probably a single viewer, if any. You realise now, he was probably your only fan. The others you’ll chalk up to bots or other weirdos. 

A trickle of ice flows through your chest. He knows where the cafe is. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching, not just on the phone? You don’t know why you keep asking. It doesn’t change a thing. 

You approach the short iron fence that marks off the patio of the cafe. You slow and Sy stands at your side, showing the tables and patrons to the camera. He rubs between your shoulder blades. 

“So how ya wanna do it? You wanna wait with Aika or you wanna run in?” He asks. 

You gulp. There is not better option. It’s all just the same. 

“I’ll get the coffee,” you offer and untangle the leash from around your wrist. “What do you want?” 

“Hm, good question,” he says, “why don’t ya surprise me. You know I got a sweet tooth.” 

“Right.” 

He takes the leash and you turn, stiffly marching through the gate and up to the door. You enter and as you’re shut in, you clutch the sides of your neck and blow out through your lips. No, you don’t know he has a sweet tooth. You don’t know him. As much as he scares you to death, he’s starting to make you really angry. It’s just how he talks as if you actually know who he is! He’s a stranger. A creep! 

You stand in line and only remember to step up for your turn as someone taps your shoulder. You mumble an apology and step up. You hadn’t even checked the menu. You look at the specials board and try to wet your dry tongue. 

“Um, white mocha,” you order in a croak, “and a uh, a lavender latte. Thanks.” 

The barista offers to add on items from the bakery. You decline and pay, already spending enough on the overpriced coffee. You shuffle along to await your order and mull your options. None. You have none. 

When your number is called, you grab your drinks and quickly spin around. You follow another customer to the door and he holds it open for you. He smiles as you step through and you thank him. 

“Not at all,” he steps out after you. “You got your hands full.” 

“It’s really nice of you,” you say as you walk just ahead of him, turning your head to glance over your shoulder. 

“Pretty girl like you. How could I not,” he says as you reach the gate, “have a good day, miss.” 

“Uh,” you’re surprised by the compliment, “you too, sir.” 

You give an awkward purse of your lips as you stand in the open gate. You look around and find Sy watching you. You go to him and hold up the drinks. 

“Um, I got the white mocha... not sure if you like that.” 

“Ooh, white mocha, sounds delicious, just like you,” he purrs, “and what did you get?” 

He takes the cup, Aika’s leash around two thick fingers. You stand dumbly, staring at the phone he keeps pointed in your face. 

“The lavender latte,” you answer flatly. 

“Well, the lady and I are gonna have our coffee date,” he says to the camera as he flips it around, “walk the pup and all that. Hope you all have a good day. Right, sweetie?” 

He once more puts you on the stream. Your lip trembles, “sure, yeah. Have a good day everyone.” 

You hold a shaky smile and he taps the screen several times with his thumb. He slides the phone into his short’s pocket and tastes his mocha. He waves you down the sidewalk and Aika takes the lead. He’s quiet as he slurps from the plastic lid. 

“That boy,” he speaks at last, “said you were pretty.” 

You blanch and turn the cup in your hand. The heat seeps through the sleeve and adds to the sheen across your skin, “er, I guess. I don’t know.” 

“Who was he?” Sy asks harshly. 

You flinch and peek up at him. He’s not happy. His entire demeanour has shifted. 

“I don’t know. A stranger. He just held the door,” you shrug, “guess he was being nice.” 

“Being nice? Shouldn’t be talking to strangers,” he reproaches. 

You nearly choke. Yeah, you shouldn’t. He taught you that well. 

“You are a pretty girl,” he says, “so I’m just lookin’ out for you. Some men...” 

You keep your eyes ahead as you fight to hold your composure. You drink from the cup, tasting the floral foam, and swallow. You force the breath from your chest and steady your nerves. 

“Sorry, I... won’t do it again.” 

He hums and reaches to grab your hand. His large one swallows yours. You don’t pull away, even as you desperately want to . He walks along with you, swing his arm slightly. 

“Isn’t this nice, sweetie?” He purrs, “you and me and Aika. Like a little family.” 

You grit your teeth and your aching cheeks fall. You can’t smile any long. You try to hide your face as you hover your mouth over the cup, “yeah,” you wisp out, “it’s nice.” 

💜

When you get back to the apartment, you’re exhausted yet adrenaline has you wide awake. Sy lets Aika off her leash and feeds her as you toss your empty coffee cup. You linger around the bin nervously, uncertain what to do next. You’re trapped again within these walls that once spoke of your freedom. 

Sy groans and stretches his neck. He runs his hands over his shaved head and combs his fingers through his thick beard. You step away from garbage before he notices you hiding. 

“Hot out, I’m beat,” he yawns, “what about you, sweetie?” 

“Yeah, uh, kinda,” you hug yourself and sway, “but um, not too bad.” 

“Ugh, one thing I was happy about was gettin’ outta the heat,” he pulls on his shirt and lifts it over his head. The fabric is darkened around the chest and arms with his sweat. More of it glistens in his body hair as he strips away the tee.  

You chew your lip and go to turn the fan on, turning it to oscillate. You sense him in the edge of your vision. He hangs the shirt across the back of a dining room chair then comes back to the living room. You stay close to the wall. 

“Er, Sy,” your heart jumps as your doubt clogs your throat. 

“Mhmm,” he flops onto the couch and leans back. He’s shameless and shirtless. His muscles flex along his arms and chest. He’s huge.  

“Do you think I can have my phone? I wanted to check my messages,” you push your palms together and twist your hands. 

“Don’t got none,” he says, “forget about that. Let’s disconnect. You and me, sweetie, let’s enjoy a quiet night in.” 

You want your phone but you know better than to push him. You’ve seen what happens when you do. You peer over at the dent in the wall. 

“Sure,” you go to him and sit on the couch, keeping a foot between you. “Do you wanna watch something?” 

You reach for the remote and he stops you. He snatches your hand back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to lean into the couch with him. He crowds you as his scent suffocates you. It smells like sweat and generic deodorant. 

“We don’t need TV, sweetie, let’s just enjoy each other,” he reaches across you and rubs your upper arm. 

“Um,” you nearly choke, “it’s almost dinner time--” 

“It’s early,” his voice is rocky, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just relax. It’s finally just us.” 

“Sy, I... I should get some work done,” you sniff. 

“You should take it easy. You work too hard,” his hand brushes along your shoulder and to your neck. He drags his knuckles up your throat, “you’re gorgeous, you know that? This colour,” he slips his hand back down and touches the top of the tank, “looks so good on you.” 

“Thanks, I, er,” you squeeze your thigh and gulp. You can’t help the tremor that rolls through you, “Sy, please,” you reach up and grab his hand, “I should--” 

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am too, sweetie,” he rasps as he leans in, “but I can’t wait any longer.” 

He frees his hand from yours and cradles your face. He dips his head and you press your hand to his chest, helpless to stop him as he smothers your mouth with his. You let out a muffled gasp as he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue poking around eagerly. His hand crawls around the back of your head as he traps you against the couch. 

Your fingers curl against the muscle of his chest and he groans. He pulls you against him, falling back with you until he’s flat on the cushions. He brings you over him, and arm hooked around you as his other hand stays on your head. His tongue invades your mouth as you struggle to breathe past his hunger. Your brain screams at you to bite him, to smack, to do anything, but you’re paralysed with futility. 

[ally-holmes]

Volunteer | Aaron Hotchner x Reader

My Fanfic Masterlist | Multifandom

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Reader: no use of YN, reader is a doctor, no precise description of gender or physique of reader.

Summary: You were a volunteer for the soccer team Aaron Hotchner coaches. When you decide to bite the bullet and ask the man out, he rejects you in what you felt was a humiliating manner. As you're trying to get used to your new life without seeing Hotch every week, you get called to help with a hostage situation as they need a doctor on site. The BAU is there.

NOTE: The summary is awful but I had no idea what to say without making spoilers.

Content Warning: hurt/comfort, hostage situation, inaccurate medical procedures, inaccurate baby delivery situation, explicit labor, medical complications, and lots of blood. Again, highly inaccurate, don't come at me with your medical degrees, I'm a historian, not a doctor.

Words: 6695

Rating: Explicit (Look CW)

Volunteer | Oneshot

Soccer had always been an easy sport to introduce to children in the US, that's why Haley Hotchner played with her son at any given time since he was three. Spending his fourth birthday in hiding was tough for them and Aaron could see that. When Jack kept watching the same tape repeatedly, Aaron decided to sign his son into a soccer team.

Belonging to a team gave Jack another social group away from school and an understanding of teamwork and camaraderie. It was also the perfect excuse for Aaron to keep his phone away and focus solely on his son on the weekends. Naming it an excuse might seem inappropriate, but for Aaron, having a semi-structured schedule to drive his free time helped him to push the work aside, avoiding hyper-focusing on the paperwork he took from the bureau. His implication with the team drove the other parents to ask him to coach the team, a proposition that he accepted with the assistance of his best friend, David Rossi.

Things were fine overall.

Then you showed up one weekend with Jessica who introduced you as the volunteer who was going to take care of the children's health. Aaron did his best to control his microexpressions but the sparkling look Jessica gave him behind your back spoke volumes to him.

When Jessica Brooks told you about the infant soccer league you looked at her with an arched eyebrow. You've finally graduated from med school and work as a doctor in the ER of a hospital. After three years there, it felt like your own home and the staff you worked with were your family. Jessica had become a new addition to the hospital's cafeteria, and she was so approachable and extroverted that it was easy for her to bond with the other members of the personnel.

Of course, you knew about the tragedy that hit her family when her sister was murdered leaving a child behind, and you've met Jack on several occasions. Yet, you were unable to pin down the moment, the insinuation, or the interaction that made Jessica corner you at the end of your shift to ask you if you'd be interested in volunteering your medical abilities for her nephew's soccer team.

"It's mostly scratches or sprained ankles at its worse," she insisted. "A little bird had told me you ought to socialize away from the hospital. It will be great for you!"

"Jessica…"

"Listen, Jack's dad has accepted to be the team's coach, and although I know that it has been a ruse of the soccer moms to ogle him every Sunday morning, he's going to take it seriously. Not like, he's going to be focused on winning every single match. They don't even keep scores for that age group. What I mean is that Aaron is going to concentrate on making it fun for the children, but also safe, and his medical knowledge is limited."

"You just said it's mostly scratches and sprained ankles. You don't need a doctor for that."

"Come on!! It'll be fun!!"

"Are you trying to set me up with him or something?"

Jessica scoffed, "He's way too old for you. I highly doubt you find him anything else than stern and intimidating. However, there are younger single parents. All I'm saying is that you should spend time with people away from these walls."

You cave in, as might be expected.

Aaron Hotcher was stern and pretty much intimidating, but he was also an absolutely cute little thing with the kids, sexy, and interesting. His assistant, David Rossi, was approachable and found a way to involve you in his conversations with Hotchner.

You were eager to please as a volunteer. You were very nice to the children, who seemed to attach to you almost immediately, and the parents soon rooted for you when they knew you were a medical doctor. Your awkward smile when one of the parents told you about the weird rash that had appeared on his rear made Aaron giggle inside.

From the point of view of a profiler, he could tell you had terrible social skills that you tried very hard to overcome and improve. You were more comfortable with children than with adults, maybe because you've been hurt in the past, you may have some trust issues and second guess yourself often in social situations but never in your work. He was unable to see the classic narcissism noticeable in surgeons, instead, you had a compulsive professionalism while being warm and caring. Aaron also saw some nerdiness and geekiness in you that made his heart melt without permission.

"To think that I brushed her off when she asked me if I was trying to set her up…" Jessica's voice pulled him out of his analysis.

"Is this a setup?"

"God, no. Not an intentional one, at least. I was not expecting you two to check each other out like that."

"I did not check her out."

"Aaron, it's me. I may not be a profiler, but I know your looks. You like her already and I know that as you get to know her better, you're going to like her more and more."

"It won't happen."

"Tell yourself that."

And he did. He told himself that along with other things but when he caught your eyes lingering on him when you thought he wasn't looking he felt a boost of self-esteem. Talking to you was a treat he rarely indulged himself with. The worst thing he thought he could do was to lead you on to think he felt the same because then he would lose the restraint that prevented him from falling in love again. It was too soon. You were too young. The 'what if' list got longer and longer as months passed.

That's how, after a few months you ended up crushing hard on that man that Jessica assured you was too old for you. Oh, boy, you didn't care. After the practices and matches, you stayed with Hotch to clear the place of the things you'd used with Jack's playful help, and that's what drew you closer. You found his deadpan jokes hilarious. You lived for his small smirks or full-on laughs, the tiny movements his eyebrows made when he found something amusing, the light in his dark eyes when he looked at his son laughing about what you'd said or done. Being of assistance was your main goal for the weekends and your supervisor in the ER was more than glad to fix your schedule so you could have those moments for the soccer team.

At some point, you inevitably thought of yourself as a needy puppy when you found yourself being always the first to comply with any of Hotch's requests. Due to the lack of major injuries (or injuries in any way or form), you didn't have much to do with the team, therefore you ran errands like buying snacks, or bringing gallons of water… To be honest you would've driven all the way to San Francisco if Hotch and Dave had asked you to. It was embarrassing.

Now that you were facing a pissed-off Aaron Hotchner, you were regretting accepting Jessica's push six months ago.

Mulling over your feelings for the past few weeks, you've decided to approach him and ask him out on a date. Just some coffee, really, nothing fancy. He frowned; his eyes ran through you seeing things you were fighting to hide. Little did you know that Aaron felt at the edge of an abyss.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Aaron tersely told you, and when your eyes wandered between his looking for a longer explanation, his panic clouded his mind, and he must admit was gratuitously rude to you. "With my work consisting in profiling people, do you actually believe that your behavior had been unnoticed? I've tried to put some distance between us to avoid confusing you and apparently, it hadn't worked. I don't intend to be mean, but if your sole motivation to volunteer here is to spend time with me or look at me, I think it'll be better for all of us if you stopped coming here. We don't need a doctor, anyway. The most you've done has been cleaning Travis' wound when he fell on top of a tiny rock and his hand started bleeding.

"I am sure that you are great in your work," he slowly assured you, "but we don't need your skills here. I'm doing this to spend quality time with my son, and I cannot enjoy it if my attention is on your stalking behavior."

"Stalking?" You whispered confused.

"It's not the appropriate word. I'm sorry. Just… This is a safe space for the kids to have fun, and we, parents, are here because of that. You have no connection with any of them, not the children and not the adults."

You press your lips to avoid pouting. The last thing you wanted was to break in front of him after that awful humiliation. Handing him the cones you'd collected, you had nothing else to do there, and knowing just how unwanted your presence was prevented you from saying goodbye to Rossi and Jack as you usually did.

Aaron's grip on the cones hurt his hands as he followed you with his eyes, a storm breaking in his chest. When instead of going towards Dave and Jack you kept walking out of the field, the old profiler looked at him across the field with concerned eyes. He bowed his head in shame.

Hiding from Jessica at work was easy for you, at least for the first few days after the humiliation, but on Wednesday, you decided to bite the bullet and face her. After sharing some pleasantries, you smiled sadly at her before telling her what you actually wanted to say.

"I don't know if Hotch has told you, but I asked him out for a coffee. He rejected me, of course," you laughed self-depreciatingly. "Um… I'm going to quit volunteering on the soccer team. Could you make sure he understands it is because I cannot face him after how he did it, and not because I'm unable to stop stalking him?"

"He said you were stalking him?"

"Not exactly. He said I had stalking behavior, apparently. I didn't notice. I– I've been fighting very hard to act normal around him. I promise that if he had just rejected my advances I would've kept my volunteering. I mean, it would've been awkward but I really do enjoy being out there. He made it pretty clear that I've been making him uncomfortable, and that's something I can't gut. Um… So, yeah, that's that."

Hotchner did not have it that easy to hide from his sister-in-law. Jessica narrowed her eyes at him when he came back home from a long work trip in Texas. As he asked about Jack, worried that her sour mood had to do with something regarding his son, she sighed crossing her arms.

"You told her you felt stalked? Really?"

Understanding washed over him.

"I might've misused the word," Aaron took accountability for his mistake.

"I cannot believe you can be so dumb! Aaron, she likes you! And you like her too, don't try to lie to me."

"She's too young and–"

"You're scared. That is normal, but listen to me, you deserve to be happy again. I'm pretty sure that a doctor will understand your crazy schedule better than anyone else. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"It's done. Forget about it."

Pressing her hands against her eyes, Jess tried to calm down her anger. "Fine. I'm going to leave you alone, just one thing, Aaron, you've hurt her pretty badly and if you don't fix your mistake soon, you're going to miss your opportunity. She's a nice person, and she deserves better than to be humiliated that way."

"It wasn't my intention."

"Just because there was no ill intention in your behavior, does not mean that you're innocent of the damage you've caused." Gathering her things, she headed out the door. "Oh, and by the way, she asked me to tell you that she won't be volunteering for the team anymore. Not because she's unable to stop stalking you, but because the way you're rejected her made her believe that her presence is unwelcome and makes you uncomfortable, so… Well done."

Aaron did not give much thought to that until the weekend rolled over and you weren't there. While the parents and guardians were concerned about your well-being, the children stubbornly refused to start without you on the field because in their minds you were an essential part of the team, just as the coach was. Dave caught him lost in his mind more than once, but he never said anything out loud.

Three weeks after leaving the soccer team you were still surprised at how much you missed it. Weaver gave you all the hours you asked for to work on the weekends in order to fill your mind with work instead of daydreaming about how much fun the kids must've been having. Jessica told you once that Travis had scratched his knees but refused treatment even from his dad as he cried calling for you. That touched your broken heart; knowing that the little ones appreciated your presence even if it was irrelevant meant so much to you.

That Sunday you'd been working since Saturday morning treating everything from mild intoxication to hardcore injuries. Adrenaline was still pumping in your veins as you tore the yellow gown off to deposit it in the bin with the gloves you just used on the car-crash patient that Coleen was taking to the OR. Cracking your neck, you grabbed your white coat from where you'd dropped it to attend to the emergency. Slipping it on top of your scrubs (a patient had vomited on you during the night which forced you to change clothes) you approached the admission desk.

"Got something for me, Jerry?"

"Take your pick," he pointed to the row of histories.

"That's not fair! How is it I cannot pick?" said a petulant voice next to you.

"Because you're a student, Natalie. Here, take this. Seems the patient needs sutures."

"That's all I'm doing. Sutures, sutures, sutures," she mumbled as she went to gather the patient.

That's when a known figure caught your eye in the waiting room. Frowning, you looked at the histories, finding two familiar names. With the documents in your arms, you cross the waiting room towards them.

David Rossi was nursing his injured arm against his chest, standing next to Aaron and Jack, who were seating in the waiting room. He saw you at the admissions desk looking through the histories before taking two of them and walking straight towards him. That's when he knew it had been a good idea to make Aaron drive them to this concrete hospital. Aaron's eyes were locked on his son's injury, therefore he tensed slightly when he heard your voice after so long.

"Why, good morning, Jack," you cheerfully greet the young child that's sitting in his father's lap, who was pressing a towel against his son's head. "Didn't you have a match today?"

"I got hurt," the boy pouted although you could see he was enduring the pain.

"Why won't you come with me? Come with us, Dave," the man nodded with a glint in his eyes.

You haven't even glanced at Aaron's face, afraid that you may compromise your patient's needs by remembering the humiliating rejection you've suffered.

When he gathered the courage to look at you, his heart clenched in need as, for the first time since he'd known you, your beautiful eyes never landed on him. Not even once.

With Jack seated on a bed in the ER, you removed the towel finding a small wound surrounded by dry blood. It was puffy and bluish. Rossi explained that Jack had passed out while on the field and he had launched to get him, failing, and hurting his wrist on the landing.

"Very well, Jack, I'm going to ask you to do something for me," you said putting your penlight away after looking at the response in his eyes. "I want you to touch your nose with your fingertips, then pull the arms as far away as you can, and touch your nose again," you demonstrated what you wanted and the boy did it without trouble. "Well done. Now follow my finger without moving your head. That's right… Very good, Jack. Give me your hands. Grab mine as hard as you can. Good. Now," you put your hands on top of his feet, "try to push my hands up. As hard as you can. There you go. Okay.

"I'll listen to your heart now." After that and checking his reflexes, you sat on a small stool by the bed and asked him a few questions to evaluate his mental state. He was shy at first, but then he started babbling coherently, which was a good sign. "Jack, did you feel bad before the match?"

The boy looked at his dad and at Rossi, "No."

"I might not be a profiler, but that seems like a lie to me. Do you want to try again?"

"I– I had a tummyache."

"When you went to the bathroom, was your poop very liquid?"

"Yeah…"

"You didn't tell your dad?" Jack shook his head, regretting it immediately. "Why not, sweetheart?"

"I want to spend time with him, but if he's the coach and I can't play, then I have to go with Aunt Jess or look from the sidelines. That's not fun."

"Perfectly understandable. Does your tummy hurt still? No? When was the last time you ate something?"

Opening the history, you scrabble and check several squares before facing Aaron Hotchner for the first time, pulling your most professional façade on. He was waiting, observing every single move with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't see any symptoms of concussion. Jack doesn't even react badly to the light when pointed directly at his eyes. I believe that he's caught the stomach bug that's been running among children for the last few weeks and he's dehydrated due to the diarrhea.

"I'm going to run some blood tests, just to be certain. Although the headwound is superficial I'm aware that you'll feel better if we take some X-rays. I'll give him some fluids, clean the wound, and he'll be free to go if the tests come back clear.

"Once at home, lots of liquids. Water, Gatorade… Bland food, the usual. Keep him awake at least until his bedtime, that way you'll be aware of something bad happening. It's not going to happen anything bad, though."

He nodded, unable to find his voice after feeling the way your eyes stabbed him. Aaron Hotchner made a life out of analyzing people and he could see how hard you were trying to stand composed in front of him, to hide how strongly he had hurt you.

"Now you, Dave," you palped his wrist and scrunched your nose. "It's not broken. I think it's dislocated. I'm going to send you to X-rays with Jack, that way you keep each other company, and we'll see what's the situation with your wrist before trying to put it in place. Any questions? None? Good. Haleh," you called the nurse, "blood tests and fluids for the little man. A round of X-rays for both of them."

"On it."

"Need some help!!" Carter yelled while running towards the entrance of the emergency where an ambulance was dropping an injured and bloody patient.

"I'll be back when the X-rays are done," you promised the three men before running for the second ambulance. "What do we have?"

As the paramedic was explaining the patient's situation, she started to code which made you copy one of Carter's most dramatic moves and jump on top of the gurney to start compressions as the paramedics kept pushing it toward box two.

"That's really cool," Jack whispered mesmerized by the display of action. Aaron caressed his son's head with love.

Time went by, busy as always in the ER so your hands were full with both complicated and easy cases. Rossi, Aaron, and Jack spent the time waiting for the X-rays before waiting in the ER again; it didn't annoy them much, and they understood how it worked. Overall, they were all aware that they would still be waiting for their turn if you hadn't been working that day and saw them in the waiting room.

You were exhausted when you saw the three men again. Haleh handed you the X-ray complaining about how rude the technicians were when overloaded with work. Greeting them again, you put Jack's rays on a light panel close by.

"Look, Jack. This is your head. Can you see these circles? Those are your eyes. Now, this is the side where you had hit your head. There's no trace of damage in the bone," you looked at Hotch to make your message clear. "I can see that the fluids bag is almost empty. That's a good sign. Blood tests came back clear as well. Jack is fine. As I said before, liquids and bland food until the stomach bug is over.

"Let's see Dave's hand now…" You changed the rays. Rossi's wrist had been dislocated, as you thought.

Getting ready the needed stuff for the cast before placing the wrist in place, you explained everything to Jack who watched your moves like a hawk. Using Rossi's distraction, you pull his hand, putting his bones in place. It hurt him, and he cursed under his breath so you gifted him with your most innocent smile.

"You need the cast to avoid hurting your wrist more. Be more careful, David."

"As you say, Doc."

Carter's voice calling for you prevented you from pointing out his age. You turned to see him pointing to the board. Right, your shift must've been over three hours ago. Thumbs up you wink at him before turning your attention to your patients once again.

"I'm going to put you in the cast while Jack's bag completely empties, and then you guys can leave. Sounds good?"

"Who is that?" Jack asked.

"Doctor Carter," you simply say, focusing on the cast.

"Is he your boyfriend?" the child insisted. Aaron tensed with his son's boldness.

"Nope."

"Jack, it's not nice to ask those questions," Hotch reprimanded, making him pout.

"I just want to understand why she's not coming anymore." That admission stabbed him right in the heart.

"I'm not coming because you don't need me, Jack," you smiled at him. Another stab clenched Hotch's chest, he'd told you that.

"But we want you there!! It's not the same without you."

"That's very sweet, but it doesn't change the situation. This is done. Haleh will take that out of you, Jack. Be good," you pointed to both of your patients, ignoring Aaron once again.

Leaving them behind, you approached the admission counter to fix the paperwork when Carter cornered you with his cheeky expression and half smile. You rolled your eyes, putting your arms up in surrender.

"Fine. Fine. I'm leaving. See? This is me leaving."

"You better get out of my ER before another ambulance comes by."

"Meany."

"Out."

Rossi hummed watching the interaction just as Aaron's jaw set in distaste. "Is that jealousy or envy?"

"Not now, Dave."

It didn't take you too long to get ready to leave the hospital, and just at the moment you were crossing the doors you saw an ambulance come to a halt. Standing on the tip of your toes, you try to take a good look at the patient but Carter gave you 'the look' and you gave up. You just wanted to keep yourself busy. It was lunchtime and although you wanted to eat, you didn't want to do it all alone in your small apartment.

Walking towards the bus stop, you pulled out your phone thinking about ordering from the Indian restaurant close to your place and picked it up on your way. With a sigh, you decided you were not that hungry anyway.

Once in their home after that long morning in the ER, Aaron tried to pry the real feelings from his son, who openly told him that yes, he missed you and that he thought that you two were going to date in the future.

"You smile way more when she's on the team, Daddy," he had told him.

His resolution was clear, he was going to confront you, take accountability for his mistake, and beg you for a chance. Work prevented him from doing it right away.

You didn't hear from the Hotchner men or David Rossi for the next few days, which you anticipated, but when Saturday rolled up you found yourself in an ambulance next to Doctor Carter and Nurse Patton running to attend a hostage situation.

The place is a grocery store. Hostages are pressed against its windows to prevent the shooters from having a visual of the suspect. There's a control area with local agents and the FBI, and as you're led there by an officer, you locked eyes with Aaron Hotchner. He seemed composed and focused, but the moment he saw you his frown deepened and his skin ashen.

The three of you were introduced to the agents and you let Carter take control of the situation. He's older than you, your superior, and he had proved his leadership countless times in the hospital.

"The unsub is desperate. He is a father who's seen his world crumbling in the last few months as social services threatened to take his children from him," Rossi explained to all of you.

"He's compassionate with other people but he won't hesitate to kill in order to keep the custody of his children. He has asked for a medical team as there's a wounded hostage and a pregnant woman in terrible pain," the agent introduced as Emily Prentiss continued.

"He is reckless. He's cornered and that makes him dangerous. Under no circumstance try to approach him, antagonize him, or contradict him. Understand? He's volatile at this point and if he believes that you are the enemy, he will kill you on the spot." Although Hotchner's words were meant for the three of you, his eyes never left you for too long.

"Is there any plan?" Carter asked.

"He'll be distracted with you there. You just have to focus on doing your job. There's a CCTV system with video and audio that still work. We have eyes and ears on you."

"Fair enough. Patton, when we get in, you and I will attend to the wounded. You," Carter pointed at you, "go to the pregnant and check on the baby."

"Understood."

"Let's get you inside."

Following Agent Morgan to the end of the perimeter your heart quickened its beating rate pumping your blood faster through your veins boosted by the adrenaline raising in your system. The unsub, as the FBI called him, ordered the bunch of you to show that you weren't armed before allowing you to enter.

The man, in his late fifties but athletic, was sweating profusely. His eyes never focused on a spot for too long. His hands were running through his hair, drying his face, fidgeting anxiously. Saying that he was unstable was a huge misunderstanding. When Carter asked for his name, the man mumbled Eli almost unconsciously before cursing and aiming at the doctor with his gun claiming that they weren't there to talk to him.

Carter calmly explained his plan of action to Eli before proceeding. Patton and Carter found the wounded victim bleeding in abundance from a bullet wound in his thigh. As they worked fast and efficiently on it, Eli hovered over them with guilt written all over his face. The man kept promising that it had been an accident, that the gun had shot itself because the victim kept talking and talking. Carter deemed the wound not life-threatening itself as it hadn't pierced the artery; however, Eli wasn't sure how long it had been since the man was bleeding, which made the situation delicate still.

Meanwhile, you've approached the pregnant woman asking for her name with a soft calming smile on your face. Patty was focused enough to tell you that this was her first pregnancy, that she had gone to the grocery store craving pickles and peanut butter, and that she was in huge pain that had increased in the last few minutes. Putting on some gloves, you informed her that she needed a pelvic exam to see if everything was alright, but you started the exploration by touching her belly and auscultating both her chest and her belly in order to find a trace of the baby's heartbeat if possible. After that, you pulled up her dress finding a concerning hemorrhage.

"Alright, Patty. Can you tell me how often it hurts?" You removed her bloody underwear before proceeding to the exam and… "You're in labor."

"No. No. No. There's no way. It's early still. It's early."

"That makes your baby a bit impatient," you joked kindly.

The most important thing was that Patty remained as calm as possible, which wasn't much. After noticing how dilated she was, you found the baby's head ready to start its journey into the world. Then you palpated it. The umbilical cord was surrounding the baby's neck. As Patty started to scream you could feel the baby moving forward as she was pushing.

"No, Patty. Don't push."

"It hurts!"

"I know it does, but you can't push just yet. Mister Eli," you called for the unsub, "this woman is in labor and she needs a hospital."

"She's not leaving!!"

"I'm not making a suggestion, I'm stating a fact," you sternly answered piercing him with your determination. You weren't scared of him. "If this woman and her baby die here, it would be your fault."

Eli ran towards you pushing his gun to your forehead, you didn't even blink refusing to show weakness. "Then do your job."

"Oh, I'm going to. I'm not a miracle worker, though. And I need help."

Outside, in the control center, Aaron was losing his cool. On the inside, of course, he rarely broadcasts his emotions. Dave knew him well enough to put his castless hand on top of his friend's crossed arms to give him support.

"She's strong," whether it was a statement or a reminder, they didn't know.

The fact that you weren't cowering under Eli's aggressive behavior broke his resolve allowing two of the hostages on the windows to help you. One of them volunteered because she was a med student; she had been helping the wounded man before the arrival of the ambulance. You asked her to monitor Patty as the other volunteer helped you handing you whatever you needed at the moment.

Trying to calm down Patty, you winked at her as if saying that her condition wasn't as grave as you'd told the unsub. Focusing your senses on your hands, you tried to remove the umbilical cord from the baby's neck without hurting it or the mother. It took some time and deep breaths but in the end, you were able to move it around freeing the neck. Patty was close to collapse, sweaty and exhausted. You asked her to push with every contraction. Head out. Another push and there came the shoulders. Another big one and the baby was limp between your hands, blue and unresponsive. Clamping the cord, you cut it before depositing the infant on top of a bunch of towels the volunteer had gathered from the end of the store for you. You start the baby's reanimation.

"She's passed out," the med student told you anxiously.

Without stopping your compressions you saw Patty unconscious, bleeding way too much.

"Carter!!"

"I'm not done yet," he shot you a look across the place.

"Fuck… She hasn't expulsed the placenta yet, Carter."

"She has to go to a hospital," Carter spat to Eli.

"No one is leaving until they gave me my children back!!"

The newborn made a complaining sound before starting to cry. Taking a deep breath, you auscultated her to make sure that everything was fine. You wrapped her on the towels and handled her to the volunteer with the order of keeping her warm and to make sure that if she stopped breathing at any moment, you were called.

Turning your attention to Patty there wasn't much you could do at the moment. Her heart rate was decreasing, and she kept losing blood. There was a hospital a mile away, she could make it and they would be able to help her before it was too late.

"Under no circumstance try to approach him, antagonize him, or contradict him," Hotchner's words danced in your head as you got up from the floor peeling the damp gloves.

Fuck it.

"Are you happy now?" You spat at Eli. Carter's patient was receiving CPR uselessly.

"Don't move," Eli pointed his gun at you.

"You know? The officers out there told us that you were a compassionate man. That you just wanted your children back. I thought I could understand you then, you were just a father loving his children and wanting to be with them."

"Exactly!! I'm–"

"You're not," you calmly cut his outburst shocking him. "You're a disgusting piece of garbage. Did social services take your children? Well, if you behave out there just as half as you did here I'm surprised they didn't take them sooner."

"Shut up!!"

There was a commotion outside when Aaron grabbed his gun and headed towards the perimeter, Morgan and Rossi caught him before he could even take a step away from them. Dave took the gun out of his grip.

"What's wrong with you?" Morgan demanded.

"She's going to get herself killed!"

"I know this is tricky for you, but you can't just break protocol, Aaron."

"Dave, she's inside and–"

"She's giving us an opening," Reid's absent voice ran through them. "Look, he's so focused on her and their argument that we can approach the store and take him without him noticing."

After a moment of studying the situation, Hotch took his gun again and nodded. "Let's get ready."

They put on the earpieces that kept reproducing the conversation that was taking place inside the store in order to give them the correct tempo.

"Look at what you've done," you pressed. Your voice was low and stern, completely calm as you kept approaching him cornering him against the counter of the store without him noticing. "A woman that still had time to become a mother, is now dying on the floor because of you. A man is dead because of you."

"It was an accident. I– The gun–"

"They could've lived if you had left them to leave to a hospital. Compassionate, they said," you snorted in mockery. "You're just a selfish bastard that would kill his own children if they disobeyed."

"That's not true!! Not true. I never touched them. I– I'm a good man."

"You're a murderer. Funny thing how you assumed your children aren't here yet because the police won't take them, but you know the truth, don't you? They don't want to have anything to do with you."

"No!"

"They know what you are and they don't want to be with you."

It was fast. One second Eli was an anxious and sweaty mess moving from side to side with unfocussed attention, and the next he was ready to shoot you between the eyes. However, your change was just as fast. One second you were approaching him slowly, and the next you hit him in the face with your elbow in a perfect move. Eli lost his balance falling face-first to the floor. You kicked the gun away before he grabbed you, pulling you underneath him. He punched you in the face before Carter hooked his head with his arm tearing him away from you. The door burst open and the FBI took Eli away.

In the mess that was taking the unsub away from the store, checking on all the hostages, and guiding the EMT to the injured, Aaron was unable to take a proper look at you which made him feel antsy.

With Patty and her baby in an ambulance and all the hostages safe, except for the wounded man that had perished, Hotchner approached you. His stern demeanor hardened his set jaw and frowning brow.

"We had video and audio from the inside. What you did was reckless. What were you thinking? Did you not pay any attention to what I had to say before you got in? Eli Marsh could've–"

"I did my job, Agent Hotchner. I'm a doctor and my job is to help people in need. My patient was losing blood and she needed a hospital, so I got her out of there. I'd do it again if needed."

Before he could say something else, Rossi called for you to make your statement.

Aaron saw you leaving with steady feet and felt his chest puff with pride at how brave you'd been. Dave's look in the distance made him take a deep breath and handle the situation as the Unit Chief he was; he needed to clear his mind.

Back at the office, the team dispersed to complete their paperwork. He had no idea how long he'd been surrounded by papers to fulfill, but as he was writing his statement, his mind wandered away, and the images of you confronting and insulting a volatile unsub with such a strong stance and calm tone assaulted him.

A soft know in his office door pulled him away from that helpless memory. David Rossi observed him with those profiler eyes.

"Yes?"

"Stop being this stupid, Aaron. Go to her."

"I'm not done."

"There's no rush. Plus, Morgan and I will take care of all the paperwork that doesn't need your direct participation."

Looking out of his window to the bullpen he saw his whole team looking back at him. They all knew.

"Go." His friend insisted.

Despite the dangerous situation and nerve-wracking job, you had to perform that day, you went back to your hospital to check in with your bosses. Weaver gave you, Carter, and Patton the rest of the day off as well as the day after that. Patton left immediately, but Carter and you procrastinated for almost two hours in the staff room talking about the day.

When Carter decided he had energy enough to go home, he offered you a ride and you gratefully accepted. Heading out of the ER door, it took you a couple of glances to acknowledge that the silhouette you were seeing was actually there and not a side effect of the stressful day you'd had.

"Go ahead," you told Carter. He looked between the man and you as the distance shortened. He didn't seem pleased with leaving you alone but did it nonetheless. "Agent Hotchner," you greeted him. "Is there anything else I had to do with the case today?"

Shying away, Hotch fixed his tie, "This isn't an official visit. I just– Are you hungry?"

"That depends. Why are you asking?"

"I want to buy you dinner."

"Why?"

You weren't going to make it easy for him and when he noticed he smiled slightly. "Because I like you and I've been an asshole lately and today I– I was terrified when I saw you come down from the ambulance. I'm not ready to have you out of my sight."

"That sounds concerning."

"I'm sorry about what I said when you asked me out. I– I pushed you away because I wasn't sure about how long I could keep my distance. I wasn't fair and I know it. This doesn't have to lead to anything, but…"

"Nothing fancy, though."

Smiling more broadly, Aaron nodded. "Nothing fancy," he promised making a gesture towards his car.

The end.

[kandyshoppe]

Dorms Bra Shopping pt 4

Scarabia Dorm

Hearslybyul SavannahClaw Octavinelle Scarabia (you are here) Pomfoire Ignihyde Daisomnia Other

Kalim

With how many siblings he has he has somewhat a basic knowledge about bras. But I don't think he was welcomed to go shopping with everyone, so he doesn't know everything most bra wearers know. He very much is in the same ball park as Azul where he calls his family, a big call with like twelve of his sisters to help teach him a bit. He is exited now! barely sleeps the night before cause he's so excited! If he is still super upbeat and happy the morning of, but the eye bags he wears are definitely name brand!

His sisters were not the best of help to be honest, instead telling him what they like. Expensive silks, super fancy ones. So if you prefer the basics, more comfortable ones, good luck with him. He keeps leading you towards the fancy ones, just cause he loves you and loves his sisters and wants everyone to be happy. Eventually you're able to convince him

He will be paying though, and definitely gets one specially made for you with a bunch of rubies. He loves his shiny items, he's like a bird. Maybe even finds a special top that is used for special occasions in the Scalding Sands. It definitely has a bunch of golden coins that jingle when you walk. Hopefully you're not too sensitive cause the coins bouncing against your torso can be a bit ticklish

He is a bit controlling by the way, so he's pushing what he wants you to wear regardless of what you like. If you like the same as his sisters, or differently, he ends up letting his own opinions guide him a bit. Lots of shiny bits, deep reds and gold colors and pretty sets with bras, panties and socks, some even have matching robes and slippers! He is dressing you like the royalty you are! NO CHOICES!

Afterwards, you Kalim and Jamil go to a fancy restaurant, Jamil was quite absent during the trip, honestly avoiding you both. He may work for Kalim, but he is too terrified of seeing your intimates to be too close! He doesn't want to know what you're wearing under your clothes. You owe him now, so you end up babysitting Kalim after the date doing a fashion show or something while Jamil relaxes a bit.

Jamil

knows the most out of anyone surprisingly, even more than Vil or Trey! Najima and him are truly siblings, so he always went to chase off the creeps in the stores. He's also kinda amazing at most things, so he knows alot of random things! He probably knows how to deliver a baby and how to defuse a bomb. Though he does call Najima and his mom for a refresher on everything. Which turns into Najima teasing him, and his parents both trying to know more about you.

That being said, his family isn’t the richest, so he offers to help pay but he probably can’t pay for it all by himself. Not unless Kalim hands over some thousand because he overheard you two talking. You end up at a basic place to look through everything. Jamil had to basically tie Kalim to a chair to keep him from joining in on your date. Please be okay with Jamil periodically checking his phone. He needs to make sure Kalim doesn’t die.

Jamil is more like Kalim than he likes to think, he also likes the deep reds, golds and shiny bits, but he likes the less over the top than Kalim. That being said, he has worked for his entire life so he actually chooses more comfortable and cheaper options than what his eye is naturally drawn too. But if given free reign, definitely a deep red with gold and glittery accents. Might buy himself a deep red boxer briefs too! If you yeast him that you’re matching he hides in his hood.

Jamil hates fast food, and isn’t gonna spend half a bajillion at a fancy restaurant, so he packs a lunch and let me tell you! His food is WAY better than anything you could buy! Makes your favorite if he knows it, and brings a few sides as well. For desert it’s some freshly cut fruits, which you both share, passing the bits between you two. It’s sickeningly sweet and everyone who passes you two gets cavities immediately.

He’s a bit floaty for the rest of the day, not all giggly and soft, but a bit more in his own head, he is calmer, not as irritable. Floyd could chuck a basketball at his head and while he would still dodge it, he just keeps doing his thing, thinking of how cute you are, and how much you liked his food! He’s planning on inviting you for a date at the dorms next time, a nice cooking date.

[the-moon-lullaby]

Could you do headcanons of how the boys spend their morning after their first time with candy in episode 40

How the HSL Boys spend their morning/day with Candy after episode 40

𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

He probably already considered the option of Candy staying the next day after spending the night 

Which is why he did some groceries the day before and that there’s some sweet snacks in his kitchen 

(and he didn’t buy them for himself as you could've assumed)

He’d bring her breakfast in bed 

He’s a bit awkward and wouldn’t really know what to talk about because it’s the first time he finds himself in a situation like this 

But the feeling would quickly fades since that he feels even closer and comfortable around Candy than before (I mean it make sense after the night they spent) 

So they’d just enjoy a little breakfast together 

Nothing too fancy but the vibe is chill and nice 

Afterwards he’ll probably would want to take a shower 

and if Candy wants to, she’s free to join (after all it saves water) 

He’d probably do a little checkup on Candy while they’re showering and ask her if she feels sore or anything (and if that’s the case, he’d be happy to offer a little massage under the steaming water) 

Then he’d ask whether she wants to go outside or if she wants to stay inside

If they’re staying home, they’d probably spend the afternoon in Nath’s bed while he reads her one of his favourite book 

I can see them writing little notes in it while they do that and now each time Nathaniel picks up this book there’s a little reminder of this moment (so cute)

When Candy has to leave, he’ll walk her home and while they’re heading there, they’d already be planning their next date (since that they’re free of school now, Nathaniel clearly intend to use these holidays to spend even more quality time with Candy)

Honestly, there is kind of a domestic vibe here and I live for it

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

Okay so we know that my boy was up for a second round but he’s no fool 

He knows that Candy might be a little sore after the night they spent together so he was probably joking around (at least for now)

Yet he wouldn’t let her get out of the bed so soon and would hold her close, wanting to make this peaceful feeling last as much as he can 

I think he’d finally allow himself to be more vulnerable (it’s about damn time) by letting Candy play with his hair and he wouldn’t bother trying to hide his loving stare or blushing face that matches his hair

He’s not the best with love confessions and all(which is why he wrote her a song instead of directly telling her about how he felt, as we already know) so he tries to show how much the moment they shared last night means to him through his attitude

At some point they’d have to get up to take Demon on his little morning walk. So they would go together 

They’d probably stop by on the way back to get a little something to eat (because Castiel spend his whole day before cleaning the apartment for Candy’s visit and ended up forgetting to buy something for breakfast 🥲) 

Afterwards they’d either go back to bed if Candy is still a bit tired or they’ll go shower (no matter what, that’s probably when the second round really begins) 

Then, they’d spent the rest of the day hanging out in Castiel’s apartment 

If it’s a sunny day, they’d go on his little terrasse enjoying the warmth and each other’s company while taking turn to throw a ball to Demon 

Or if the weather isn’t that good or if they just feel like staying inside, Castiel would probably play some guitar for Candy  

(she’d probably ask him to sing the song he wrote for her once again and he’d pretended to be annoyed but he’ll gladly do it)

𝙻𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 :

I believe he’s an early bird so he was probably the first one awake (I know that’s not how it happens in the episode but idc)

Wouldn’t get out of bed though because he doesn’t want to wake Candy (she needs to rest after all because well, the night was short)

As he feels that she’s waking up he’ll just caress her hair and kiss her forehead 

Not much would be said but his caresses and kisses here and there as they’re laying next to each other speak a thousand word 

He’d make Candy feel so loved and special

The kind of feeling that makes you ask yourself if you’re still dreaming (this man, I am melting)

They’d probably have to get up and get ready after a while because I assume that Leigh would like to come home at some point 

I have this headcanon that Lysander, when not at school, prepares his and his brother’s lunch so when Leigh comes home for his lunch break, everything is already ready and Lysander can spend a little time with his brother since he’s often very busy (protect this man at all cost, he’s such an angel)

So he’d do that this time as well, only that he’s cooking for Candy as well

She might try to help him but as we saw in the game, she’s not really a skilled cook so he’d just end up be like « I’ll take care of it dear. Just sit back and enjoy »

For once, Lysander would probably go back to his room with Candy to eat their meal instead of eating with Leigh since he wants to spend a little more time with her 

When Candy has to go, he’ll walk her home and would kiss multiple times feeling it hard to leave her lips as it’s like he already misses her presence (such a romantic boy)

Armin : 

He go raid the kitchen to find some snacks (sorry for his parents who did a refill the day before but now everything’s gone) 

Took the snacks that were Alexy’s too because for once he has a good excuse to do so (“it was for Candy !”) 

But right after, he’d lay back in bed, preferably on Candy, and he’d love feeling her nail softly scratching his back while he’s resting on her chest 

He’d probably fall back asleep that way

Nothing on earth could make Armin get out of bed before 12 AM on a weekend (also expect Candy to fell asleep with him)

Even though, they probably spend the rest of day in Armin’s (bed) room

Armin would pick up some comics and show them to Candy or they’d start to watch this anime he kept telling her about

The curtains would remain drawn because sunlight is not allowed in this room (I have to stop with this whole Armin-avoiding-the-sun thing it’s so cliché, sorry lol)

He would hardly manage to keep his hands of Candy but she wouldn’t mind (she’d actually do the same)

This could lead another fun time, who knows ? (I mean guys, he finally found a sport he enjoy doing)

He ended up ordering food for them, maybe pizza or burgers because despite all the snacks he ate, he’s still hungry (he is a bottomless pit)

Kentin : 

probably woke up first (I don’t remember if it was the case in the game but I rest my case anyway) 

I just know he struggled to sleep the whole night 

He was processing what had happened lol

He’d be terrified to wake Candy because he thinks she look so sweet sleeping like this, in arms

But at some point his arm would feel a little numb as she’s laying on it 

So she’d be woke by him trying to move and then apologising for it 

He’d totally make a fancy breakfast (eggs, fruit salad, pancakes even ? that's a slay)

He knows what he’s doing since he loves breakfast and he never skips it 

So he’d be so happy to share a breakfast he made with her (and he’d hope she’d be impressed lol) and he would bring it in bed for her

Cookie would need to take a walk too (we’re not forgetting the doggies here) so he’d asked Candy if she wants to come along (and of course she wants to)

So they’d get ready together, taking more time than expected because they keep interrupting each other with stolen kisses (aww) 

They’d spend the whole morning enjoy the sun as well as the beginning of the holidays 

Since, they’d probably agree to go eat outside, they’d take back Cookie home and then go do their little lunch date

Then they’d just wander around the city, holdings hands and window shopping (they're this kind of couple you spot in the streets)

There you go Anon, I hope you like it ! (it's more about the whole day rather than the morning but as it's said in all the route, they clearly intended to spend the day together)

[omgjumin]

firsts with han jumin <3

summary: the first time you hug and kiss jumin

tags: jumin has mommy issues (me too), he's just a man in love, gender neutral reader, canon compliant, fluff just fluff

notes: ive noticed the myms fandom is starting to get more active, so i got jumin brainrot and made this, i could make a nsfw second part for this if you guys want anyway

the first time you hug jumin is after the party. you wrap your arms around his waist and hold him close to you without letting go. jumin is so warm, the way his body immediately reacts to your touch and relaxes upon embrace. his heart is beating faster and faster with each passing minute and jumin can't help but smile at your affection. but jumin has never really liked hugs or anyone touching him in fact. his father was never really around him when he was a child and some part of him wondered why even though deep in his heart, he knew why. his birth mother only left a deeper hole in his heart after she divorced his father. jumin never received love when he was a child and he's accepted it. yes, his father gave him gifts that he only hoped were full of love when the time was necessary but jumin never felt the love that he truly craved.

he was casted away, locked behind a door that separated him and his mother for hours at a time. the basement that held no ones presence but his and toys. he wasn't a normal child, at least that's what he was told. no one has given him true affection up until now. he's almost expected that he'd hate affection whenever it was directed towards him. but when you wrap your arms around him and lay your head against his chest, he doesn't know what to do. he tries almost as naturally as possible to bring his arms up to hold you as well. yet you could feel the awkwardness behind his actions. you find it funny almost. you have a silver band that fits perfectly around your ring finger and a matching one on his yet jumin doesn't know how to hug you back.

you laugh softly as you tilt your head up to see the awkward love struck man. "you're going to have to get used to this." you say almost in a mocking way but your words hold no malice towards him. jumin could only laugh softly before nodding his head to your words. it's only been a few seconds yet jumin never wants to leave your embrace.

the first time you kiss jumin is right before you leave his penthouse for the first time. jumin kissed you on the first morning of you staying there in front of sarah, yet you had no time to react nor kiss him back. your mind was hazy, should he really be kissing you while elizabeth was still missing? should his soft lips really be on yours in front of sarah, when you could've sworn you were just a friend. yet when v comes to take you home, you stood in front of jumin, your hands reaching forward to grab his. "even when you're still standing in front of me, i miss you." jumin whispers as if he wanted no one but you to hear. "ill miss you too." you say quietly even though you were going to see each other again in less than 24 hours. 

jumin is scared that if he touches you more, he won't be able to let you go. that maybe he'll just send v away, tell him that you might as well stay here with him. jumin will excuse it as the potential of danger but he's trying to convince himself more than anyone else. his head is still tied in knots but when he feels your lips on his, there's a moment of tranquility in his brain. where peace takes over, there's only sounds of ocean waves crashing, birds chirping, the sound of your voice calming down his rushing heart. jumin can't help but close his eyes and just hope this moment never ends. he feels your lips moving against his very gently as if he was a fragile glass flower. jumin almost feels guilty, his heart is racing and he feels fragile in your touch but shouldn't he be making you feel that way? as soon as his eyes flutter open, you pull away slowly and smile up at him. if jumin didn't know any better, he would've collapsed on the floor. the dramatic fall that he saw so many times in soap operas. you were so pretty, enough to make him fall in love with you even more than he already was. his heart is beating against his chest even harder now and it only took one look from you.

[cbsxreader]

hi muehehe same anon who requested scout and sniper x miss paulinh bff over here, how ab scout and sniper (seperate :p) x close friend!reader where like reader is very close to [insert merc] like always giving them hugs n stuff and then one morning [merc] wakes up with reader cuddling them (maybe after like a super tiring hang out or smt) and [merc] is like “woah.. i think i rlly like them 😵‍💫❤️” !!

tysm! and it’s 100% alright if this request takes a long time, it’s a lot to process lol :)!! /gen

Sniper and Scout realizing they like you!

Scout

You and Scout had always gotten along. Eversince the day you met, his rambles would consist of many different topics, making you able to freely talk to him about anything. Though it may have been tiring sometimes, it was all worth it.

After some time, there wasn't a time when Scout wasn't talking to you. For him, it felt good to have someone listen to him. And when you started to match his energy, you became unseperable.

Your bond became stronger when he let you prank his teammates (specifically Spy) and when he talked you into playing baseball with him. Scout hadn't had a friend like you, like, ever, and he wanted to make the best out of your friendship.

Then he announced that he had organised a day for you two to spend together. To be fair, the schedule was messily written on a crumbled paper and neither you or Scout himself could decipher what it said.

So, you just went wherever your heart took you. You walked through a room with a pool table? You played for a little bit. Walked into the kitchen? Took some snacks for yourself. Spotted an unsuspecting co-worker? Pulled a prank on them.

This went on as the hours passed by, you didn't even notice that you had basically skipped lunch and that it was getting a bit late.

Though baseball and messing with other people was fun, you both suddenly didn't want to do anything. You had ran out of options of what to do, either something seemed done to hell or straight up boring.

So, you decided to watch a movie together, putting a tape on the living room tv. Because of the long day you two shared, you collapsed onto the couch, letting your limbs fall wherever.

"Damn, today was fun!" You said with a tired smile.

"You can say that again!" Scout replied, putting on the film before coming over to the couch.

He let himself fall on the couch, joining you. You both melted into the cushions, your arms slightly grazing together.

The movie turned out to not be so good, it failed to catch your interest, and when it did, you couldn't pay attention for long. It was the same for Scout, he could hardly understand the movie because some parts just went through one of his ears and went through the other.

Your eyelids were heavy and it was hard to keep your eyes open. You desperately tried to remain awake, trying to show that you still had some energy in you. Scout, too, had nearly closed eyes and yawned a lot. He tried to keep himself from falling asleep by stretching every once in a while, but it didn't help.

After a particular yawn, you couldn't keep your eyes open and, without even noticing, you slipped into sleep. Meanwhile Scout had already secretly fallen asleep as well.

The next morning, Scout woke up, and then he realized he was pushed into the cushions and was laying on his back. He yawned only to feel pressure on his chest and finding it more difficult to breathe. His eyes widened, thinking another one of Medic's birds was in his chest.

And then he saw you, your cheek pressed against his chest. Your arms were wrapped around him in a close but loving hold. Your expression was relaxed and it looked like you had peacefully fallen asleep on him.

Scout yelped before shutting his lips, realizing he might wake you up. Once he saw you were still sleeping, he let out a sigh of relief before looking at you again. As he looked at your still figure, he couldn't help but blush at the closeness. Sure, you spent a lot of time together and knew each other better than anyone else but this?

Is this okay? I mean, it's just a simple hug, just...more close, that's all. They hug me all the time, why would this be different? They probably accidentally slid onto me and thought I was a pillow. When they wake up, it will all be back to normal.

Scout thought about moving you off of him and softly grabbed your shoulders, but seeing how comfortable you were he gave up and decided to not disturb you. He tried to test the waters and kept his hands on your shoulders, hoping to keep you close.

Scout felt his heartbeat fasten as he admired your features. Your hair looked so soft now that he was this close to you. Your cheeks and face looked so perfect as if angels had put it together. Your eyes, even though they were closed, were the most beautiful thing to him at that moment. He could just imagine you looking up at him with a smile, making him flustered.

I've never seen them be so beautiful...Have they always been this good looking?? I mean, I guess I never noticed...but now that I do...they're like...the most perfect person- wait what am I thinkin'?? Not that they're not perfect I mean- They're the best but not like that, we're just friends! Right?

Come to think of it, you understood Scout. Not like you just shared interests, no, it was a more deep, emotional connection he's never felt towards someone before.

It didn't matter how many times he repeated it to himself in his head, he liked this. While it could turn akward the second you wake up...this felt nice.

The freakout within him calmed down though he still seemed to be thinking. Okay, this is a bit akward but...what if it wasn't? Could you both enjoy this? What if this was a regular occurance? Wait no, that's what lovers do.

Scout looked at you again, re-imagining himself waking up to you cuddling him. It was a beautiful scene in his mind. Just you two, waking up next to eachother when the sun hits your closed eyes.

Now he had no choice but to figure out how to explain that he likes you and wants to be more than just friends.

Sniper

Though it took you a while to get Sniper to open up to you, it was definitely worth it. This was usually through small, short conversations between you when it came to your opinions about something. Who could have thought you, a normal person, and him, a lonesome weirdo, had some things in common!

Still slightly sceptical of you, he decided you invite you to his sniping nest, just to be in each other's company.

After you had cracked him, it was game over. He let himself info-dump onto you whenever the topic was about something that he cared for and knew a lot about. Both of your favourite moments were when Sniper gave an unusual or eye-widening fact and you could have a good laugh about it.

No matter how much he told himself that he was a professional, he always said yes to your hugs. It may have been akward the first few times because he's not used to getting hugged but he warmed up to it. If he had a good day, a regular day or a bad day, your sweetness would cheer him up. The gesture made him feel seen and appreciated.

One day, after lunch, he drove you out into the woods to just explore the wilderness. It was a great oppurtunity to bond as you went right through everything that was in your path. Bogs, swamps, mud, nothing stopped you when you had eachother's backs. It was also when Sniper could rant to you about nature again.

As the sun seemed to be lower to the horizon you decided to head back to the camper. And when you did, you sat down and realized how tired you had both gotten from all the walking. So, after eating some soup from a can, Sniper invited you to the top of his camper to watch the stars.

Sniper brought some pillows and a blanket that you would both share and got comfy as the moon rose. Darkness creeped in as stars became more shined over you. You looked up to the sky and Sniper pointed out some constillations, explaining everything he knew about them.

His voice was low, soothing. That, combined with the fact that it was night time and you were exhausted from exploring, made you feel sleepy. It seemed like Sniper wouldn't last for much longer either, he yawned in the middle of his sentences. And then he ran out of things to say, making you both lay in silence. Just when you thought you'd be able to admire the sky, you let your eyelids shut and fell asleep. Sniper quickly followed.

The next morning, he slightly writhed as he felt himself wake up, the hard roof of the camper not seeming so comfortable anymore. He opened his eyes, seeing mostly darkness because of his hat blocking the sunlight.

He squinted his eyes, furrowing his brows, before deciding to rub his eyes to seem more awake. He reached towards his face only to realize his arm grazed something right beside him. With a confused expression, he slightly lifted up his hat to get a better look.

What Sniper saw made his eyes go wide open. You had cuddled up to him, face nuzzled in his side. The mere sight of you being so close to him made him wide awake.

What didn't help was the fact that he had an arm around you to pull you in closer to him until he went to rub his eyes.

Wait, what!? How long have they've been this close to me!? Why are they cuddled up to me!? And why did I wrap my arm around them!? They're my friend!

Needless to mention, he went red in the face and it felt like his whole body slightly shook at how flustered he was. It confused him how content you looked while being so close to him.

All your previous hugs and other gestures were out of kindness and happiness. So, it fumbled him how you seemed to enjoy his body like a warm pillow in a cold night.

He could see how hard his heart beat in his chest by looking at how your hand moved. But after slightly calming down, he still had no idea what to do or think.

Was it too cold for them? They just needed warmth, right? I was just the nearest source of warmth, that's all. There's no way they'd do this intentionally...

In that moment, Sniper seemed lost as he looked at you. Your features made you seem so content, so comfortable, so warm. Yout hair was slightly fuzzy and almost made Sniper want to touch it. Despite being confused, he suddenly realized how truly beautiful you are.

Not to mention, you were someone who truly understood him. You could tell each other everything about anything. He could talk to you without getting the anxious feeling that he doesn't fit in. And it really brought out the vulnerable side of him. A side that he could trust to show you. You could be the one for him.

After that thought, he pulled his hat over his head again, but didn't fall asleep. Instead, he decided to think for a bit. About what? You. Him. You and him together. His job, his life, his parents. Everything. He's just a bit lovestruck.

He placed his arms in a bit of a strange manner to avoid being accused of cuddling you back and sort of heaves the akwardness onto you when you wake up. (But you'll both get to that soon enough)

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

The Bird And The Man

Chapter Two

Rated: Explicit | Warnings: none (for now)

Ao3

Chapter One | Chapter Three

You learned that the garden is also where Orpheus goes to exchange books with Mister Joseph. The hunter and survivor sides of the manor have two different libraries. 

Every other week, he will either return a book or exchange a book for one from the hunters’ library.

Mister Joseph, the Photographer, is a very respectful man. Old for sure and has certain expectations for those who interact with him. You bow, call him ‘sir’, and he, in turn, treats you with respect. He is quite charming too! The sort of charming you study to write for a character in your story.

Currently, Nightmare is doing multiple matches this week so you won't be seeing him in the garden.

The spot in the manor you enjoy being in but are sharing the space with another usually is the living room. Frederick Kreiburg practices his pieces here. The man keeps to himself and you are too busy in your own world to bother him.

Like two cats in the same room.

Currently, the Composer is in a match leaving you in the living room full of silence save for the crackling of the fireplace. The door creaks open but you are too lost in this particular scene to notice.

“Hypnos.” Familiar rich baritone voice.

To say you have a crush on the person you admire does not seem odd to you, however, you do not expect him to like you back. Being realistic you both are on two different levels and social status.

He is well renowned while you are nobody…

Lifting your head and turning it to see Orpheus not far from you, “Good evening.” The door closed behind him, “Need something?” Curious as he crosses the room to sit beside you, his body turning towards you.

“I have an inquiry for you if you are inclined to answer.”

You place the pen inside of your notebook before closing it, “Okay.”

He smiles, a polite one that does not reach his eyes, “Seems you and my counterpart seem to be close.” The Novelist begins, “Going by the setting and his behavior, this has been going on for quite some time.”

“A few days! I think. We met by chance.” You add.

“Ah, I see.” He adjusts his monocle, “Interesting.”

“What about you and Mister Joseph? Don't you both enjoy each other's company? Talk about books and such?”

“No, we keep our interactions limited. Best to not establish bonds.”

“That sounds rather sad,” Not realizing the hint in his last sentence, “What if you read a really good book and he read it too? Wouldn't you want to share the joy?”

Twice he blinks before frowning, “This is not a social party, Hypnos.” Stern, “Such familiarity can cloud judgments and clouded judgments can cost us.”

You stare then finally it dawns on you the implications of his words, “He… You…” Trying to find the words.

“He is a hunter. There will come a time when you will face him. Then what will you do?” He takes your hand gently, “It will be painful to see someone you befriend attempting to harm you.”

This is true… Many of the survivors keep to themselves and if they seek out comfort it is momentarily. No one uses the hunter/survivor neutral areas because… Would anyone want to befriend a hunter?

Yet… It is lonely here. Even though all the survivors work together, party together, and gather together to meet a new survivor; they all have their own goals.

Orpheus included.

“I appreciate the worry but it is hard to think you are being sincere when I can't tell what your true intention is.” It is no secret that Orpheus hides his emotions well. His charm and demeanor are well practiced, like an actor built for a role. You pull your hand away uneasily, “Sorry.” And you truly are.

“Take it as advice. Whether you adhere to it is your choice.” He does not stay on the topic as you expected and his body language adjusts from formal to informal, relaxed. “Might I ask what you are writing of late?”

Maybe he is curious, or maybe he is trying to ease the tension he created, you do not think about it before you light up like a Christmas tree.

“It's a science fiction story!”

Orpheus listens to you ramble, naturally charmed as a fellow author, but it irks him. Or maybe it hurts him to see you are one of the survivors that are trusting. You so freely speak about your book without considering he could steal the idea. He has more pull than you and none would suspect him to be a thief unlike you who has not one book released.

Or rather, those that have been released are ghostwriting.

How does he know? Easy, one of the authors he had assisted with a promotion for had you ghostwriting for them. Little secrets spilled between many glasses of champagne.

“I asked Mister Balsa about the logistics. Tesla’s inventions are fascinating.”

Orpheus nods as you hold his attention.

“Mr. Orpheus, what inspired you?”

“Hm,” Pretending to think about it, “I could ask the same of you, Hypnos. Though you have said it is your name, its meaning is interesting.”

“Hypnos, god of sleep.” Was there something symbolic about it? There were strange symbols at times on the walls, Alice points out at times mysteries of the manor with no answers and mounting questions. “If you think I'm part of this game—!”

“Not all. It is an observation. All these people selected and promised, which leads to the question: what was promised to you?”

Everyone has secrets, a past, a reason to fight. Each has an agenda, and most have already spilled blood on their hands. Terrifying honestly.

“Nothing exciting…” Going quiet, “Sorry, I am not as exciting as the others.”

Orpheus does not push, things like this take time, and well, this manor gives plenty of it.

There are a few more idle conversations you have before heading off to lunch. Orpheus asks to accompany you if you would have him. 

Time flows, like water pouring out of a basin into a river. Poetic. You like poetry, it always says so much in a few words. As you stare off into the distance, your warm breath is seen in the cold as you stand outside waiting for someone. 

The manor will be celebrating the usual winter solstice soon, with plenty of games and gifts. A joyous time from what Emma told you— Almost. The horrors are still there, they are part of this new life. A life you want to make the most of.

The snow has made your spot a winter paradise, though not ideal to stay and write at, but it has a different use. Here you stand in the snow all bundled up, silent at first then the sound of crushing snow as your friend approaches you. Nightmare looks rather silly in the Christmas outfit he is made to wear this year.

“You made it!” The Hunter finds himself hugged immediately by you, one that lingers. “I got you a gift!” Pull out the gift from the inside of your coat. 

The birdman tilts his head and then gingerly opens the gift, the neat wrap torn by pale gold claws, his body once slouching now stands at its full height as he holds a book in his deformed hand.

“It's the first print,” What is in his hand is your book. “Edger made the cover.” Pointing at the painted cover, “Thank you, Orpheus.”

The first print is always the most important, it is the start of the journey for an author. It is proof that years of hard work have gotten you here, and if the book fails then so be it! No one can take away the joy of the poof of achievement. The fact you are sharing this with him both hurts and warms him. Hurts because he is not the man you see every day, he is no longer the novelist searching for answers to a past he has no answers to; he is a monster now who hurts those like yourself every match with a sadist glee he knows is not himself. Yet, it warms his heart to see you look upon him as if nothing has changed, that he is still the novelist you admire, and thank him for the guidance.

Nightmare's head nudges against your forehead, twice he does this before lifting his free hand towards your face, the heat of your breath (it smells of the cinnamon apple from a treat you had) against the beak of his mask. His thumb outlined your painted lips smudging it in the process while making you suddenly aware of what he is trying to do.

You kiss the bird creature's thumb softly and lean your head to the side as you close your eyes, your hand grips his bicep, and he makes a sound similar to a chirp.

“Orpheus.” In the voice he never heard, the sort that is slightly above a whisper to be heard by one person within your personal space and shy enough to be unsure how to go forward.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

when they're on cases and he can't sleep cowboy! reader just stares at the ceiling. normally he would bake or play with buddy or something at home but on trips he just stares and tries to sleep. jj has rolled over and looked across the room to find him awake one too many times.

- 🦦

Description: cowboy reader can't sleep :(

Warnings: can't sleep (idk if it's insomnia tho), very tired reader, I think that's all

A/N: so the coffee dialogue has been sat in my notes without a fic idea for ages and I thought it might fit nicely here so I went for it lol

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84

Sleep was not coming to you. Like at all. It had been an hour and a half and all you had done was count the number of lights on the ceiling and judge their decor. There were only twelve small lights, but when you had finished counting you played small games - matching different lights to others, trying to make shapes in your head with the lights. Honestly you felt like you were going a bit insane.

You wiggled slightly as you sighed. This was worse than torture. You were tired, your eyes were tired and yet, no sleep would come to you. This was the second night. You would groan loudly, if it weren't for JJ sleeping soundly on the bed next to you.

The team had been given three rooms, one of which was being shared by Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss, the other by Rossi and Hotch, and finally, a room for you and JJ. You had tried to tell them that this layout made absolutely zero sense, but they weren't having it. And so, you and JJ departed from the rest of the group slightly flustered with Morgan whistling loudly.

And here you were. You were tempted to just stop trying to sleep and get back to work but you don't think your brain would function right now. You kind of wanted to bake something. Maybe the kitchen was open. Until you remembered it was half two in the morning. You missed Buddy.

You missed any form of communication with another human being.

Damn, you're spiralling already? Think of something, quick! Er, lizards are cool. You nod to yourself. It's true, lizards are cool.

"Are you okay?" A voice draws you out of your lizard thoughts.

"Huh?" It took you a minute to register, "Oh yeah can't sleep,'

"That sucks," JJ said, sitting up slightly, "Is there anything that helps?"

"Playin' with Buddy and bakin'," You said, shrugging. You gave a small yawn, "You go back to sleep, we need to be up in about..." You looked at the time, "Three hours."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," You shrugged, "Sleep well." She falls asleep instantly and you find yourself mesmerised by her. Eyelashes flushed against her cheek, you drew yourself out of your thoughts for a moment, turning away from her and to the ceiling.

You sighed, the ceiling no longer seemed interesting. You began to run the case over in your head. It felt like you were missing something. Something crucial, but what?

There was something about it. He wasn't sloppy - he wasn't leaving any DNA or physical evidence. He wasn't thinking irrationally. It just appeared irrational. Like his crimes weren't fully developed. Like he wasn't fully developed. Because he was a teenager! You mentally slapped yourself for not seeing it sooner as you bolted up. You had to talk to Hotch!

You grabbed one of the room keys on the table and practically ran out of the door. It was the only thing that made sense!

When you reached the door, you knocked - fairly loudly, but by accident. Within a minute Hotch opened the door (wearing a pajama t-shirt and checkered pajama pants).

"S'rry sir," You apologised before quickly getting into your train of thought, "The unsub's not sloppy, seems like it but its not. He's organised, he's not irrational but his crimes aren't developed. What if its 'cause he's still developin'?"

"You think he's a teenager?" You nodded, "That would make a lot of things make sense." He paused for a moment, taking in your appearance, "Have you slept at all?"

"Does blinkin' count?"

"No,"

"Then no."

"Get some sleep," Hotch said with a sigh, "I'll see you at six." You nodded, turning away and hearing Aaron lock the door behind you.

You were absolutely exhausted the next morning, two nights of pretty much no sleep (you had managed a whole hour both nights). You were going to need a lot of coffee and maybe a nap this afternoon.

You had only been at work for three hours when Hotch approached you. You were at the coffee machine.

"Ah sh't…" You mumble, dragging a hand over you face as the coffee machine bleeps angrily at you. Seeing Hotch, you turned to him for a moment before turning back to the coffee machine. "Hotch? Think I broke the c'ffee."

"Y/n?" You look up at him as you forced your eyes to stay open - despite them trying to flutter shut. "You need to get some sleep."

"'M not even tired." Hotch raised and eyebrow and you sighed, "Fine. But only thirty minutes..."

You walked the few steps to the couch in the break room, letting yourself practically collapse into it. You're immediately rewarded with sleep.

Two hours later (although it only felt like five minutes), Morgan gently shook you awake.

"Mmm, go 'way, 'm trynna sleep." You mumbled, turning over in hopes Morgan would just walk away.

There's a small smile, voice slightly higher in pitch, "There's been another body." JJ says.

You force your eyes open for a moment before trying to wipe the sleep from them. "There in five…" You grumbled, ignoring Morgan's rather loud huff.

You stood up, rubbing your eyes once more as you did. "Someone's not a morning person." Morgan teased lightly.

"'M too tired to argue with you, Morgan," You mumbled as you tried your best to stifle a yawn.

Luckily, within the next four hours, you had caught the unsub. "Can I have the couch on the jet please?" You yawned as Morgan cuffed him. "I think I might actually be able to get some sleep."

[gilbirda]

gil gil gilgilgil gil gil.

i had

omg

i had the best

the best

Okay so.

Soulmate Identifying Marks AU

ANGER MANAGEMENT STYLE

i am

i need it.

(don't feel pressured i might write it myself but also might not but i had to throw the idea to you)

Fam.

You got it.

[Read on AO3]

------

Jason never actually cared about his soulmark. Really. Why bother? He was poor, his parents' relationship was shitty (he later learned they weren't soulmates and Catherine sold him a pretty lie), and his life was complicated enough to add romance.

Once he became a vigilante at the tender age of thirteen, he understood that love was a luxury, and that having a soulmate at this point was a liability more than a blessing. A curse, even. He envied Dick, who didn't have a soulmate mark, and who loved freely and without hesitation; he envied Bruce, who loved intensely and burned just as bright.

He just. He couldn't do it.

So he chose to ignore it. Sometimes he hated it, sometimes it felt like a shackle to a complete stranger, someone he was supposed to tie himself to-

(Someone that didn't belong in his world. Crimefighters and civilians were not a good idea.) - so he just scrubbed at the damn ink on his skin when he got pissed at it, and covered with long sleeved clothes when he wanted to ignore it.

And then he died.

He was surprised to discover his mark was still there after coming back to himself post-bathing in the Lazarus Pits. He lowkey had hoped his soulmate was free from the connection the moment his heart stopped beating. But it was still there.

It was a bird. Ironic.

A freaking bluejay.

It was still colorful, it has all the details, no matter what he did about the mark. His soulmate was still there on the other side, waiting, biding their time. He wondered if their mark became a black silhouette like it did when partners died. He wondered if that stranger was holding hope or gave up on him already.

(He hoped they did. Giving up on him was the best option.)

When years passed and he didn't find anybody with a matching tattoo, blacked out or not, he tried to forget about it again. Holding hope was useless, and he had more important things to do. Dick eventually stopped asking about it, when they were back on speaking terms. Bruce still gave it pained looks when he visited the Cave.

That's why when a woman sat down on his table and hid her face behind a binder, he didn't notice the picture on it at first glance.

"Hello?" He put down the cup of coffee and sat straighter. It was never a bad idea to be wary.

"Um." The woman lowered the binder enough to look around the quaint café. She turned and checked the window, but if there was someone there she wouldn't be seen. That's why Jason liked this table, it was the best strategic point. "Sorry, I..."

"Hiding from an ex?"

The woman rolled her eyes, setting the binder back on the table. "Try a creepy coworker."

She tried to downplay it, but by her body language she was more affected than what she let on. He was interested in her story immediately. No woman was going to be stalked on his watch.

"Did you try the police?"

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Police doesn't do shit in Gotham."

Her sharp tone and eyes made him smile immediately. "Have you tried kicking him in the nuts?"

The unknown woman arched an eyebrow and untied her tight bun, massaging her scalp for a second, revealing long natural red hair. Jason noticed her white shirt, so she may be coming back from work. An office? He wondered where she worked. He could try and find out and then identify this creepy coworker-

"Hard to do that when she doesn't have a pair of those." The woman snorted. "My stalker is a woman."

"My mistake. Have you tried kicking her anyway?"

She made a face as if she didn't know what to do with him, but laughed at his comment. He smiled back, glad to see her relax after the scare.

"Thanks. I really needed the laugh, stranger." She made a move to stand up. "I'll leave you alone now."

He nodded, making a note to follow her and find as much information as he could about this stalker.

His eyes wandered to the picture taped to the front of her binder.

A bluejay.

"Wait." He extended a hand, catching her-

It was like an electric current coursed through him, from the palm of the hand that touched her forearms to the tip of his toes. He knew she felt it too, because she froze where she stood, her eyes glued to his hand on her person.

He had to let her go, he knew, but he couldn't. He really couldn't. He knew what this meant, and yet he didn't want to believe.

"Where did you get that?"

It took a moment to come back to reality and process her words. She was looking at his arm, her free hand hovering over the hem of the jacket her had rolled up to be comfortable. The shape of the tail of the bird was in plain sight.

He could lie and say it was a tattoo. That he thought bluejays were cool. He could say so many things.

He didn't need to say any of those lies.

The woman put the binder back on the table and rolled up the sleeve of her sensible white shirt, on the same arm he had his mark. He knew what he would see, what he could see, but it didn't prepare him to the sight of the same bluejay shape blacked out.

"I cried for you. I felt you die."

Her eyes were haunted with memories. What could he say? What could he explain?

"I should have looked harder for you." She narrowed her eyes. "I knew I could still sense you, but I didn't want to hope..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"It's okay. People shouldn't be running around chasing ghosts." He understood her. Really. Holding hope for the impossible could be dangerous.

The woman smiled at his words, truly smiled, amusement morphing her expression like the turning of a page. She sat back down and extended her hand.

"Jasmine Fenton. Professional ghost hunter. Or was." She rolled her eyes. "I was taking a break now, actually."

Jason tried to gauge if she was joking. But she was completely serious.

Huh.

"Jason Todd." He shook her hand anyway, barely stopping when the electric current made an appearance again.

"Like the dead socialite?"

She did her homework.

"Yeah." It was his time to be amused. "Just like him."

He smiled back at her, and it felt right. Like coming back for air after being underwater for too long. Like feeling the sun warming your skin for the first time after a long winter.

He always found the soulmate talk boring, and in his darkest hours, pathetic. He would never experience that, and romance was for those that could afford it, so why care?

But now, touching her, seeing her smile and her teal eyes that hid many secrets, Jason decided that those people were very off about their descriptions - and very right at the same time.

So he just ignored everything he thought he knew about soulmates and tried to remember if he had the rest of his day free, since he apparently had a soulmate to get to know.

---

Hate the ending, might rewrite it.

Bone apple teeth.

Also I hc Jason as aspec if it wasn't obvious here.

Do you like my stuff? Buy me a Ko-fi!

[fadelion]

I'd really dig a Duke solo run right now. Or rather, a Duke focused run that shows off Gotham during the day again and has minimal appearances from other bats and established heroes. Something that shows how he runs things when it's just coming down to him. And brings the old Robin Crew back.

I admit, I feel like the curing of his parents was kinda anticlimactic. Like, if Metamorpho can synthesize a cure for Joker Gas, that guy needs to be on speed-dial. (Is he probably busy and hard to reach like every other hero trying to do this full time while maintaining a personal life? Probably? Would I offer him some of that Batman money to make some time every few weeks or so to examine all the various toxins and such used by multiple Gotham villains? Absolutely.) So, maybe that cure didn't work. Not permanently. A rare misread from Metamorpho, something that he could've and would've fixed ifnhed seen it. Maybe that gas mutates the victim over time, and if they stay dosed long enough, they start to relapse, even if cured. What if Duke's parents just have the occasional fit of mad laughter. Just an incident here, once or twice a month or so. But they seem to get longer each time, and then they start happening once a week. Twice a week. Every other day. And Duke is starting to freak out, running himself ragged on his off time to try to figure out what went wrong.

At some point, he recalls a case he was on that he never really got a chance to fully close out: The White Market. This place (seen in Batman - Case Files: Signal) was a whole villian swap meet, full of interesting gear, tools, spoils, and inventions, all hidden on a whole other wavelength that most people can't even see. Maybe some other villian has a cure-all for this kind of thing, or just something useful until Metamorpho gets free (the man muttered something about a "Danger Street" in one of the quickest phone calls Duke ever had, and Black Lightning and Katana are probably still on the same kind of stuff they were doing when Jason ran into them a few months back). Maybe, after some time has passed, they feel comfortable opening up a Gotham access point again, now that the heat seems to have died down.

Of course, there was a whole other half to that incident. Mainly that a Riko and Dax, somehow empowered by a tech billionaire, showed up to work the same case, Riko leeching Duke's powers to match the wavelength necessary to get into the White Market in the first place. Yeah, it ended with a blown cover and Duke getting beat bad enough that they were able to confirm he has a healing factor, but it's still unfinished business, and going toe to toe and blow for blow with people that used to be friends can't leave a good taste in his mouth. And it's not just Duke trying to figure it out. After all, you don't throw money like that into a project, and then scrap it, especially one of the steps in your plan is to jump a Bat (the new, daytime Bat, but still a bat). So they have to be still looking, right? If he can find a way into that tech guy's system, maybe he can get hold of some information he missed.

So, Duke has with a conversation with Tim about what Duke plans to do (because anybody else is busy (Nightwing running the Titans/League, Red Hood... "recovering"), out of the city (I think Batman is off world in comics at the moment? There's a current running comic about it. ), or might try to stop/join him (Oracle, Black Bat, and Spoiler, who have a Birds of Prey thing running right now, IIRC, and Robin, who's probably helping hold down the night shift). And Tim is all for it, willing to cover some things for him as long as Duke is sharing information and doesn't get himself killed. Duke makes sure Tim has Izzy's contact info and vice versa, and maybe emergency Hatch access, and he's out in the streets the next day, trying to find an access point for information on the place where he might find a cure for his parents. Only instead of a Bat over his shoulder, he's got Izzy in his ear and just his own skills in the field against assorted villians, another billionaire, and whatever he's still gotta deal with in the day to day to even have the time for this.

And all the while, there's a part of him thinking that maybe he can get the old crew back together instead. If they don't beat each other senseless on sight first, anyway.

Or maybe after. A win is a win.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: Work is starting to get pretty busy again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You are left undisturbed for near a day after the news arrives. You should be grateful for the reprieve but you cannot find respite among your unease. 

Edith is gone, your world is splintered, yet this marriage must proceed. Not for your own sake, but for your family's. You expect your father wouldn't be content to have you return to his household. The only benefit to your sister's tragedy is that he was able to rid himself of you.

Doreen informs you that you are to ready for another lunch. You choose a gown of faded peach and a bonnet with a narrow rim and white ribbon. She helps you dress before leaving to look in on your mother.

You look in the mirror and wonder if maybe you were prettier your voice wouldn't matter so much. You pin the brooch with the blue bird just below your neckline. You pretend Edith is there with you, talking you through this. I believe in you, sissy, remember when you stole my cap back from that angry hog?

You wait to be called. You hate to presume or wait around where others might be disturbed by your presence. It isn't Doreen who comes but another servant, a broad steely-haired woman. She bids you out and you follow meekly, gaze straying to the golden frames and painted canvas.

The meal is hosted in the dining hall. A long ebony table with matching chairs. Each seat is upholstered with emerald velvet and capped with curlicued posts. You are shown to yours by Parson to the one reserved for you. 

Your mother sits with her tears hidden behind her fan, not so much as looking in your direction. Doreen stands at her shoulder and offers a handkerchief. You can only hear the reprimand she would issue should you be blubbering so.

You rise as the duke enters, but not alone. Your mother leans heavily on the way, gathering herself with several flaps of her fan. She snaps it shut and tucks it away as she raises her chin, shooing away Doreen.

“Lady Thea,” Laufeyson begins before addressing you, “my parents, the Grand Duke Odin and the Grand Duchess, Frigga.”

He steps aside as an older couple stand regally in the archway. The man is burly but stout, with dark grey hair streaked with white. His jaw is set squarely and there is a familiar blue tint to his eyes. The woman is tall and blond and fair, her figure untouched by her age and her hair so golden that the grey strands only seem to make her shine.

You recognise them. The portraits in the main hall. Even with some decades since the artist’s work, they are beyond compare to their pigmented likenesses. They are as elegant and resplendent as their son. It sinks a rotten pit in your chest. Perhaps, they might not want you either.

“We���re acquainted, Thea and I,” Frigga declares, “I believe your father might recall her.”

“Yes, Lady Thea,” he bows, “I know your husband better, I’m afraid.”

The duke has a pinched look to his lip as he listens with his chin high. He moves stiffly, gesturing to the table, “mm, yes, let us be seated–”

“Loki,” Frigga says as she slowly wades forward, her skirts rippling like water, “what about your brother? He received an invitation, didn’t he?”

“Mother, certainly he did, but he is ever… unpredictable,” Loki offers. It is jarring to think of him as anything but the duke. To think he is anything but the master of Jade Park.

“Lady Jane is with child,” Frigga counters, “it might take them some time.”

“Lady Frigga, Lord Odin,” your mother begins, “I cannot remark upon your son’s hospitality enough. He’s been a wonderful host, especially…” she pauses and turns her head, touching her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Oh, we were distraught to hear of Lady Edith. Such a tragedy. So young and beautiful.”

You stare at the wall. You try not to think of the statement laced between her words. You are young too but not so beautiful.

“And your younger daughter is endearing, that is a rather charming brooch,” she turns her green irises on you.

“Thank you, Lady Fwigga,” you hold your head high as you cling to a thread of dignity.

Her cheeks bulb and there is a slight tremor in her chin before she can answer, “oh, that is a peculiar accent, dear.”

You don’t know if you should thank her. You can’t tell if she holds any derision but you’d prefer she not mention it. It’s obvious, it needn’t be emphasized.

Your eyes skitter over to Odin who watches you with quiet consideration. He does not hold the same disapproval as your father but you can’t read much in his face.

“She is all I have left,” your mother bemoans, “two daughters. That’s all I got. How I wanted to give my husband his heir but… it was not to be and now…”

“Oh, Thea,” Frigga drawls, “if you are to fraught to remain–”

“No, no,” your mother expands her fan and pushes air into her face, dabbing her tears with her knuckle, “no, I’m so happy for our families to come together.”

“As are we. It is only sensible–”

She is interrupted by some furor at the other end of the house. A smile curls her lips as a booming voice fills the corridor like thunder. As your eyes drift towards the doorway, they meet Loki’s. He looks at you with a furrow between his brows before he shifts his gaze towards the clamour.

The men rise first. You get to your feet as Parson rushes in to announce the new arrival. As he introduces Lord Thor and Lady Jane, he is almost breathless. The couple appears behind him, the towering duke clapping the groom’s shoulder so he staggers. The duchess gives a pretty smile to the grand duchess as her hand rests on her rounding stomach.

“Oh, Jane,” Frigga sweeps across the chamber to embrace her daughter-in-law without pretense, “you are immaculate,” she pulls back and cradles her cheeks, “you look well.”

“Do I? I’ve been struck sick for days.”

“But it shall pass,” Frigga avows and beckons the duchess with her to the table, “Lady Jane, my first son’s wife.”

You bow your head and your mother does the same, taking the lead as you remain silent, “Lady Jane, a delight to… meet you. Oh, my apologies,” your mother fans herself more rapidly, “your eyes, they have the same shape as my dear Edith’s.”

“Edith?” Jane utters and looks at Frigga. The grand duchess leans over to whisper gently. “Oh, my condolences, Lady Thea, oh and such timing as this?” She turns to you, “a betrothal is supposed to be a joyous affair, I cannot bear to think how you are doing.”

You don’t know what to say, as often you find yourself lacking. Your lips tremble but you do your best to keep your composure.

“I will miss my sista vewy much,” you try to speak slow and clear, but it just sounds clumsy, “I didn’t know…” you see the flicker in her eyes, the dimple in her cheek, the judgment casting a shadow over her, “I didn’t know you and yaw husband would attend.”

Jane’s lips part and her brows rise as she looks at her mother-in-law. Frigga tries not to acknowledge the almost taunting expression. You can’t. You feel it throttling you. Just be quiet.

“How fetching,” Thor intones, surprising you as he comes to stand behind his mother and wife, chewing a biscuit he snatched from the tray.

“Fetching?” Jane scoffs.

“The way she speaks, yes? I think it is… interesting.”

“That hardly matters,” Frigga insists, “it is what one says, not how they say it.”

You clamp your lips together. You want to crumple to the floor and sob. You don’t want to be stood here like some jester to entertain these people. You want to go home and see your sister’s casket. You want to be near her, even if she’s not really there.

Again, you find Loki’s distasteful glare. His throat bobs and his lips thin even further.

“Yes, yes, let us sit and eat. My staff has worked the morning to prepare us a fine lunch,” he chides, “I’d hate to see it wasted.”

🔹

You stare at your untouched plate of cold meats and cheese. You’re not very hungry. Perhaps it is grief, or more likely it is shame. You want to shrink down to a morsel of dust and disappear.

There is an odd sort of skill acquired by those who are quiet. Observation. The ability to see so much, to take in every gesture, every twitch, every look with meaning. And you do not miss those errant gazes in your direction. Some with anticipation, others with dread, each waiting for you to say another twisted syllable.

Your mother fills the silence you refuse to break. She regales the table with the story of how she met your father on the promenade, how he trod on her skirts, and she hit him with her reticule. A tale you’ve heard anon.

She hiccups suddenly and cups her hand over her mouth. You turn to look at her as her wrinkles deepen and her gulps become sobs. She shakes her hand and waves her other. Doreen appears at her shoulder.

“My lady,” the servant says.

“Oh, Lady Thea,” Frigga dismisses the maid with a subtle flick of her fingers, “let us get you some air. It is such a lovely day, and I believe we do have some matters to attend to.” She helps your mother to her feet, hanging on to her elbow, “Lord Odin, you will accompany, in case she faints.”

Odin grunts. He hasn’t said much of anything. He seems more enamoured of this plate. As he stands, he stuffs a roll of sliced ham into his mouth. Chairs scrape as you stand to see them off. Doreen follows the older trio through the archway as they set off.

You resume your seat and watch the tablecloth. Your mother was of little assistance while present but without her, you are defenseless. Loki sips from his tea as Jane spears a slice of pear with her fork and Thor cracks a hard-boiled egg in his hand.

“So, I’ve not seen you before. You haven’t debuted?” Jane asks.

Your eyes flit up to hers. You almost don’t believe she’s talking to her. You’d been praying they’d forget you were there.

“My sista was ill and she is older so I was waiting until she went fast.”

“Fast? Went fast?” Jane repeats as she pretends to think, “went fast where?”

Loki sighs and sets his cup on the saucer with a harsh clink, “first. She meant first.”

“Oh, my, apologies, I’m afraid I have a bit of trouble understanding you. I don’t think I’ve heard any sort of affectation,” he smiles falls to something more sinister, “it is rather… garish.”

“Jane,” Thor says through a mouthful of egg, stopping himself to swallow, “she speaks clearly enough.”

“I’ve heard of physicians who can tend to that. They can teach you how to pronounce your words properly. Through repetition.” She enunciates each word, making sure to move her lips deliberately.

You fight a grimace. You swallow and look at your plate. It isn't the first time someone's made those comments, she will doubtful be the last. Just like those boys who used to call you 'widiculous' or 'wavishing'.

“Please, this doesn’t need to be a whole point of conversation,” Loki reproaches.

“I am only offering advice.”

“You are the one who spoke to her. None of us wanted to hear her.”

“Loki,” Thor says appalled, “she is to be your wife.”

“I was supposed to marry her sister. The normal one. The dead one.”

You flinch and let your shoulders slump. You bring your hands up and cover the brooch on your dress, as if holding Edith tight. Your lip pokes out as you fight a tide of grief that threatens to erupt.

“Aw, look, she is going to cry,” Jane taunts.

“Jane,” Thor’s voice hardens, “no more.”

Jane snaps her lips shut and rolls her beautiful hazel eyes. She pops the slice of sugared pear into her mouth behind her cruel smirk. Loki sneers at his fork as he twirls it in his hand. Thor gives you a glum look but it lands like a slap. He cannot relate to you, he can only pity you, and that is worse than contempt.

“If you are cuwious, Lady Jane, I have been to many physicians. They cannot help me,” you shrug, “just like they could not help my sista.”

Thor clucks and lets out a breath through his nostrils. Jane doesn’t falter, smiling as she chews, and Loki pushes himself to his feet. His chair threatens to topple as he swivels on his heel.

“I would see to our parents, make certain they are well and that this… contract is still in effect,” he takes rigid steps along the table, “I should hate to squander any more time in uncertainty.”