#if any of the five you reading this want specific scenes let me know

[ellemj]

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 10 (FINAL PART)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

*Read parts 1-9 first for the full effect!*

Summary: Everything is out in the open between you and Bucky now, but there are two rules for your new secret relationship.

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing, possessive!Bucky (hehehe), maybe fluff (?), profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: We've finally reached the end. I think I'll miss this version of Bucky and reader but I'm pretty excited about the work that I'm planning on putting out here next. Hopefully everyone's okay with the conclusion of this, I didn't want to have anyone riding off into the sunset or anything, but I also didn't want to have a horribly sad ending, so this felt right. You guys should totally let me know in the comments what kind of things you'd like to see from me soon! I don't know if I'll take specific requests anytime soon, but I'd love to at least find out what might get you all excited. Thanks for the umpteenth time to @littlemiss-yeehaw for being the best cheerleader and warnings-writer out there. She also draws some unbelievable shots of Bucky based on scenes in these fics.

           

In the shower, on the hotel bed, in the chair by the window, hell, even on the floor when the two of you rolled off of the bed in the heat of the moment. You’d successfully christened every surface of your hotel room before the clock ever struck midnight. You hadn’t meant to go at it like horny teenagers who found themselves home alone for the first time, but that’s what happened. It’s like you were both thinking about how this may not continue once you get back to the compound tomorrow morning, so you fit as much as you could all in one night.

            Now, you’re laying side by side in bed. Your most recent tryst involved you on your hands and knees with Bucky doing all of the right things behind you, and it thoroughly winded you both. You listen as your collective breaths fill the air, the two of you each coming down from your post-orgasmic highs.

            “Do you think Dr. Raynor will figure this out?” You ask softly, raising a hand and wiping a bit of sweat from your brow. Bucky laughs and turns his head to look at you. He still can’t get past how pretty you look after doing such dirty, animalistic things with him. Even without the super soldier serum decreasing his refractory period to mere minutes, he thinks he’d be recovered and ready for round five just from looking at you like this.

            “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

            “It’s on my mind, yeah.” You admit. You’re probably more worried about it than you should be, but deep down, Bucky’s worried too.

            “So, how do you want to handle it?” Bucky asks, fully rolling onto his side to face you.

            “Maybe we just wait and see what she has to say after observing tonight’s mission and then go from there. I don’t want to say anything first and give her anything to use against us.” He’s listening to your words, honestly, he is. He doesn’t think he could ever miss a word you say. But he can’t stop himself from reaching over and running his fingertips along your flushed cheek. You turn to look at him and he lets his fingers ghost over your lips and down the column of your throat until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. His eyes linger there for a moment. Something’s missing.

            “You never gave me my dog tags back.” He whispers. You’re not wearing them, and neither is he. So, where are they?

            “Yeah, I wasn’t sure when to give them back.”

            “Bullshit, you wanted to keep them.” Bucky teases. You push his hand away from your neck at the accusation, but can’t stop the smile that’s creeping over your features. Fuck, he’s so into you. He closes the distance between the two of you and places his body carefully over yours under the covers, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Even just kissing you sets off fireworks inside of him.

            “They’re sitting on my nightstand, back in the compound.” You tell him, hoping it doesn’t make you sound too obsessed. You had planned to give them back all week, but avoiding him made that a little difficult, so instead you left them sitting beside your bed. It was sort of comforting to see his name every night before you fell asleep, and every morning when you woke up.

            “Keep them.” He insists, pressing another kiss to your soft, soft lips. You get lost in the moment, focusing on the feeling of his tongue working against yours, his scent enveloping you in the most consuming way, and his weight keeping you pinned to the mattress. You could stay like this forever.

            This, of course, is when Bucky’s phone would ring. He groans in annoyance as he breaks the kiss and touches his forehead to yours, looking down into your eyes.

            “Tell me not to answer it.” He pleads. You purse your lips, knowing it’s probably someone from the team calling with some kind of update or new order. Bucky groans again before rolling off of you and snatching his phone off of the bedside table. He answers it and puts it on speaker, confirming that it’s someone from the team.

            “Hey, sorry to call so late. The threat has been neutralized so you guys can head back now and get some sleep, we’ll debrief in the morning.” Sam sounds tired but calm, so it must have been more of a nuisance situation than a major threat. Bucky closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his vibranium hand.

            “Sounds good, we’ll be back soon.” He grumbles. You can tell he’s annoyed that you won’t be staying the night here. When he hangs up the call, he lets out a deep sigh before sitting up on the side of the bed, with the covers gathering around his waist. Without thinking, you crawl up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him from behind. He stiffens as if he didn’t expect your touch, but that just makes you lean into him more, resting your chin on his shoulder. You feel him slowly relax and having that effect on him warms you to the center of your being

            “We’re going to go home, get some rest, and debrief in the morning like this was any other mission.” You say, attempting to be reassuring.

            “That’s what you want? To pretend like this was any other mission?” He questions, running his hands over where your arms are wrapped around his abs.

            “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant we don’t have to run in and tell everyone that something might be going on between us.”

            “Might?” He chuckles. You feel his abs shake beneath your hands as the melodious sound leaves his lips. You never heard him laugh much before, and you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do.

            “Hey, I told you that I fell for you, and you said fuck, I’m cumming. How am I supposed to know you feel the same way?” You tease, letting go of him and laying back on the bed, drawing the covers up over your naked body. He turns a bit to face you and starts pulling the covers away from you slowly.

            “Y/n…” He says your name with so much genuine feeling that it sends tingles throughout your body. Has he always said your name like that and you just never noticed before? Yes. “I made you wear my dog tags while I fucked you.” What the hell does that have to do with what you just said? He can see the confusion on your face and it brings a smile to his. He slides back under the covers next to you and begins peppering kisses across your shoulder and collarbone.

            “Bucky…” Fuck, if you start saying his name again there’s no way either of you will make it back to the compound tonight. He quickly makes his way up to your face, attaching his lips to yours for a moment and then tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. It’s the nicest way anyone has ever shut you up.

            “I wanted to be able to pretend like you were mine. I fell way before you did.” He whispers against your lips. Holy shit. He feels the same way. Bucky Barnes feels the same way about you as you feel about him.

            You know that you have orders to head back to the compound, and neither of you are the type to disobey orders from above, but how are you supposed to pack up and head out after finding out that you have feelings for each other? You can’t stand the thought of traveling back to the compound tonight knowing that you’ll have to put on a show and pretend like nothing happened here. So, why not delay a bit and take what you want one more time?

            That very rational thinking is what inspires you to slide your hand between the two of you and wrap your fist around Bucky’s already-hardening cock. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your small, soft hand wrapping tightly around him, and he wonders how he went so long without having you this way. You’ve been right across the hall from him all of this time. You’ve been going on missions with him for the last two months, giving each other shit nearly every waking moment, and completely missing what had been there the whole time. Love. He won’t say it out loud yet, he doesn’t want to scare you off, but that’s what it is. He’s sure of it. He loves you. He may not say it but he can damn well express it.

            That’s how Bucky finds himself, for the fifth time tonight, guiding the tip of his cock inside of your perfect cunt. He’s done this enough times now that he knows as soon as he bottoms out inside of you, you’ll tense up and scrunch your eyes closed, trying your hardest to adjust to his size. He watches as you do just that, and then he feels your entire body relax beneath him and he knows you’re ready. He pulls one of your legs up and over his hip as he begins fucking you into the mattress. When your eyes flutter open to meet his, he has to go completely still inside you so he won’t cum right then and there. You laugh to yourself. You know what eye contact does to him and you love it.

            “What’s the matter, James? Keep going.” You taunt, wiggling your hips and forcing his cock to slide into you another inch. He’s only halfway inside of you. He breathes out a slow, calming breath before leaning down and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting his cock sink into you slower than it ever has before.

            “You like rushing me, don’t you?” He asks, giving your cunt gentle thrusts. A soft hum leaves your lips at the pleasure that’s beginning to build in your lower stomach. You’re so focused on the feeling that you don’t even acknowledge his question. “Don’t rush me tonight.” He buries himself to the hilt before stilling once more, drawing a whine from your lips. “We’re making love, not fucking, sweetheart.”

---

            A few hours later that same morning, a very uneventful debrief took place in the conference room at the compound. You and Bucky turned in your mission reports, leaving out the details of what happened in the hotel room, and then you were dismissed to have a few hours of freedom before having to meet with Dr. Raynor.

            Everyone probably assumed that the two of you went off to your respective rooms upstairs, but it took little convincing to get Bucky to sneak over into yours. When he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was his dog tags, right where you said they were.

You kick your shoes off by the door and walk over to sit on one of the small gray chairs that you have off to the side of the room, feeling surprisingly nervous that Bucky Barnes is seeing your room for the first time. Nervous. After everything the two of you have done this week? You’re ridiculous. You watch him as he crosses the room and scoops the dog tags off of your nightstand. He stares at them in his palm for a moment, and for a second you worry that he might pocket them. However, when he turns to you with a soft smile and a mischievous glint in his eye, your fears are assuaged.

“Do you have any rules? For this thing that we’ve got going on?” Bucky asks, taking the free chair across from you and setting the dog tags flat on the coffee table that separates the two of you. You tilt your head to the side, studying him closely. You see what he’s doing. The first night, while under the influence of that chemical, you gave him one rule: no kissing. He returned with his own rule: wear his dog tags while he fucks you.

“I have one. We keep this a secret, just between us, for as long as we can.” You respond, letting your eyes trail over his physique. He’s sitting in your chair the same way he sat in the chair in the hotel room last night. The man knows how to demand attention without saying a damn word. You watch as his licks his bottom lip and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Fine. It’s a secret.” He agrees, his gaze briefly lingering on your neck. “But I have one rule too.” He reaches out with his flesh hand and begins sliding the dog tags across the table toward you. “You’ll never take these off again.”

BONUS CHAPTER

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut

[virgosimagination]

How To Manifest Your Desired Appearance by Applying States

If you read my success stories post, you would know that I successfully manifested both my desired face and my desired body using the Law of Assumption. Specifically, by applying states.

Each state comes with its own set of thoughts. So first, I found it was beneficial to make a list of thoughts that I would think if I had my desired appearance.

For example, while manifesting my desired face, I knew my thoughts wouldn't just be "I have my desired face." That sounded and felt very mechanical to me. Instead, here were some of the things I'd be thinking naturally, and therefore things I adapted as my affirmations:

"I love being so pretty I don't even need makeup."

"I feel very confident today."

(When seeing someone I viewed as very pretty): "She's pretty, but I am prettier."

"Everyone wants to look like me because I am the most gorgeous woman in the world."

"I always look so good in pictures."

Any time I felt insecure or upset about my appearance, either my face or my body, I would immediately switch back to my desired state. Something that helped me a lot was minimizing the time I spent looking in the mirror. You can't see your face unless you're looking at your reflection. So really, I had no proof that I didn't look how I wanted to in my 3D. Any time I'd think of my appearance, I would imagine I looked like my DF. My old face was dead and gone to me. And when I did catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'd pretend I was simply looking at my old self, because I knew for a FACT I looked different now.

I also made certain to fall asleep in the state of the wish fulfilled every night. I did this by doing SATS every night. I would imagine myself looking in the mirror and seeing my DF. I only looped the scene around five times before I got too drowsy to do it anymore. Then I'd drop off into sleep. Most nights, when I saw my own face in my dreams, I looked exactly like my desired face.

Any time throughout my day I found myself thinking from the state of lack, I would simply shift back to my desired state. I would do this by saying "I already have it." Sometimes it'd take me a while to sustain the state, because I kept immediately doubting. But I'd just keep shifting myself back into the desired state. I would not let myself give in to my negative thoughts.

I persisted until I finally woke up with my desired appearance. It got easier every day. I remained patient with myself. I knew it was possible. The only thing holding me back was my own doubts and fears. It got easier to recognize them (because sometimes they were camouflaged, as they were so natural to me) and it got easier and easier to dwell in my desired state, until it became my dominant state.

That is how I manifested my desired appearance! It really comes down to discipline, not taking no for an answer, and persistence.

#law of assumption #states #neville goddard #manifesting #master manifestor #manifesation #loa manifestation #manifest #loa advice #loa #loassumption

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.” 

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes. 

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area. 

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean. 

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself. 

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia. 

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally. 

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai. 

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on. 

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers. 

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?” 

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully. 

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on. 

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror. 

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?” 

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there. 

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression. 

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him. 

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.” 

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this? 

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently. 

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears. 

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror. 

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp. 

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box. 

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you. 

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time. 

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out. 

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos. 

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance. 

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias. 

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him. 

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen. 

But is this really any better? 

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress. 

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?” 

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low. 

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall. 

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are. 

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away. 

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners. 

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?” 

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them. 

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer. 

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?” 

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?” 

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick. 

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him. 

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them. 

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths. 

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake. 

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start. 

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners. 

“May I have this dance?” 

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other. 

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting. 

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does. 

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him. 

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him. 

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond. 

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance. 

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth. 

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction. 

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you. 

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?” 

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous. 

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[the-bau-quinjet]

Back to Me

Summary: Aaron needs you and Jack to come back to him.

Word Count: 8030

Warnings: kidnapping, CM type violence, guns

A/N: Not gonna lie, I love this story. I'm very obsessed with our dear Agent Hotchner right now. I might not be the best writer, but I am actually proud of the story :)

Masterlist

The sound of the lock in the door opening clued you into his arrival. You shifted slowly, not wanting to wake Jack as you climbed out of his bed. He had only just fallen asleep a few minutes ago as you finished reading him a story.

"Aaron?" you called quietly as you moved through the apartment to the front door. Just when you wrapped your arms around him, his phone started ringing.

"Hotchner," you stayed hugging him while the conversation played out. "I'll be there in an hour." He hung up, finally returning your embrace.

"Do you want me to wake Jack? Say hi before you have to leave again?" you asked, relishing in his embrace a little longer.

"No, better to let him sleep. The case is local, so I shouldn't be gone long." Aaron replied, stepping out of your arms and retrieving his bag. You followed him down the hall, watching as he unpacked and changed before getting ready to leave again.

"Hey," you stopped him on his way out of the bedroom. "I love you, okay?" He sighed in relief, stalling his exit to pull you back into another hug.

"I love you too. Thank you." After another moment, he stepped back. He kissed your forehead before turning to head back down the hallway and out the door.

-

You met Aaron a little over a year ago. You had just moved to DC for a new job and decided the farmer's market would be a fun change of pace.

"Thank you," you smiled at the woman selling produce before turning back to the rest of the market. You roamed aimlessly through the stalls, not looking for anything specific.

"Excuse me," you turned at the sound of a young voice, surprised to find a small boy trying to get your attention.

"Hi there," you smiled, squatting down to his level. "What's your name? Are you here alone?" you asked. The boy couldn't have been any older than six or seven.

"I'm Jack. I came with my daddy, but I can't find him. I just wanted to get some candy, cause there were free ones." He held out his hand to show you the candy.

"It's nice to meet you, Jack. I'm Y/N. what does your daddy look like? I can help you find him." You listened as he tried to explain his dad, but the description could mean anything. What does tall really mean to a six-year-old? All you really know is that he has dark hair. "Okay, what's your daddy's name?"

"Aaron!" he answered excitedly, proud to know the answer.

"Alright, let's start looking!"

You hadn't made it more than five steps before someone was anxiously scooping up the boy. The man looked relieved to find him, but Jack's reaction wasn't what you'd expected. He looked stiff in the man's arms.

"Jack! I told you not to leave my side," he spewed on and on about how happy he was to find him, Jack's face tucked into his shoulder.

"What's your name?" you were too skeptical of the situation to let him just walk away with Jack.

"Hm? Oh, Aaron," he smiled. "Thank you. For keeping him safe." He nodded toward Jack.

Despite his correct answer, something didn't feel right. Jack stressed that his dad's hair was dark. Sure, this guy has brown hair, but it wasn't exceptionally dark.

"Just a minute!" you called before he could walk away. You grabbed Jack out of his arms, catching the man off guard. "Jack, is this your dad?" He just shook his head, eyes wide.

"Hey! Give him back!" The man screamed, reaching for Jack. You turned away from him, shielding Jack with your body. "Give him to me you stupid bitch!"

His yelling only justified your decision. You leaned over Jack, protecting him from the man who you were now sure is not his father. Unbeknownst to you, the man's yelling caused quite a scene in the otherwise peaceful farmer's market.

"Jack!" You heard another voice yelling for Jack, but your adrenaline was pumping too much to let him go. The man was still reaching for Jack, hitting and scraping you. Jack's safety was now your top priority.

Eventually, someone pulled the man off you, but the yelling never stopped. He kept screaming "that's my son" or "give him to me" over and over. You could hear sirens in the distance, growing closer.

"Are you okay?" you leaned back just far enough to look Jack in the eye. He nodded his head, but you could easily tell how scared he was.

"Where's my dad?" he asked, voice shaking. You opened your mouth to respond when someone else started talking.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Could you explain what's going on?" you turned to see a uniformed officer asking you the question. Her partner was holding back the man who claimed to be Jack's father. You picked Jack up without even thinking about it, still feeling him shaking. You explained everything to the officer as quickly as you could, not wanting to put Jack through anything else.

While the officer wrote everything down, you finally had a chance to scan the newly amassed crowd. Jack looked with you, still anxiously searching for his father.

"There!" he pointed. "That's my dad! DAD!" You followed his line of sight, finally noticing a dark-haired man pushing his way through the crowd. "Daddy!"

Jack bounced with excitement as his dad got closer. When he finally reached you both, Jack practically jumped from your arms to get to him sooner. That is more like the reaction you expected.

You stepped back, letting the two of them greet each other. The officer asked you more questions, moving on to whom you could only assume was actually Aaron. You couldn't help but overhear his answers.

"I was putting my change away and when I turned around he was gone." He held tight to his son, barely looking at the officer asking the questions.

"Then I found that lady and she saved me from the bad man!" Jack chimed in, turning the focus back to you. You smiled at Jack.

"I'm just happy I could help."

Before you could say anything else, the police started talking again. They collected everyone's information, taking down everything they would need to call you in for a formal statement.

You shook Aaron's hand and said goodbye to Jack, assuming that would be it. You didn't fully realize how involved you would be in the case against the man who attempted to kidnap Jack. Thankfully, he took a plea, so you didn't have to testify in a trial.

Throughout the process, you saw Aaron and Jack a few more times. With each encounter, you learned more about the two of them. You found yourself looking forward to seeing them. When you received a call with the sentencing information, informing you the case was over, you found yourself mildly disappointed that you no longer had an excuse to see them.

That feeling was quickly followed by guilt. You would only serve to remind them of Jack's near kidnapping. Being free of you would only improve their lives and let them move on.

For a few months, that was it. You had thought your life was Hotchner-free. But, a chance encounter at a coffee shop changed everything.

"Y/N!" a young voice shouted your name causing you to turn around. Just as you finished spinning toward the sound, you felt the force of a six-year-old boy throwing his arms around you.

"Jack!" you nearly squealed, squatting down to hug him better. You looked around for Aaron, surprise covering your features when you couldn't see him. "Where's your dad?"

Jack paused, looking around with you. "I don't know. He... he was right behind me. But then I saw you in here so I ran to get you!"

"Well, let's go find him." You held out your hand for Jack, carrying your coffee in the other. Just a few steps later, Aaron was running into the store. He stopped short when he saw you with Jack.

"You must think I'm a terrible father," Aaron sighed.

"Not at all," you smiled, leading Jack toward him.

"You're a great daddy!" Jack chimed in, eager to calm his father's fears.

"Thank you, buddy. I need you to stop running away from me," he smiled down at his son, taking his hand from you.

"But you said to stay with adults I know, and I know Y/N!" Jack explained.

"That's right, bud. You do know me." You smiled at Jack, trying to keep this light-hearted despite the serious potential consequences. "But, you shouldn't run away from your dad. He worries about you, so you should tell him where you're going. Then he can help keep you safe." Jack nodded, hanging on your every word.

"Daddy, can Y/N come with us to lunch?" Jack asked, bouncing with excitement. It seems you weren't the only one missing your time together. Aaron looked at you, the question clear in his eyes. You smiled, a slight nod showing your agreement.

"I don't know. You'll have to ask her." Aaron smiled slightly, encouraging his son to actually ask you instead.

"Y/N, do you want to come to lunch with us?" Jack asked, more shyly than when he questioned his dad.

"I'd love to buddy. Let's go."

It didn't take much for you to fully fall for Aaron, especially when you started loving Jack along with him. You grew closer every moment you spent together, and eventually confessed your feelings toward each other. A few months ago, Aaron asked you to move in with them.

-

It wasn't unusual for cases to happen back to back like this. The last case took a little over a week, but that meant nothing when another case popped up immediately. At least with a local case, you've got a chance of seeing Aaron at night. However, returning to work this late could only mean emergent attention was needed. You hated to think what that meant.

Instead of dwelling on it, you checked to make sure Jack was still asleep before getting ready for bed yourself. You followed your nightly routine methodically, still trying to clear your head of what Aaron could possibly be facing.

Everything was completely normal when you finally settled into bed. You checked on Jack one more time while you turned off the hall lights, then laid down in bed to read. You were just a few pages from the end of a chapter when you heard a noise down the hall.

"Jack?" you asked, walking down the hall. You looked in his bed, glad to see him still asleep. You heard another sound in the kitchen just as you shut the door to Jack's bedroom. "Aaron?" you called.

You continued down the hall, eager to see Aaron again so soon but nervous about what it could mean for the case. Just as you turned to enter the kitchen, you felt a sharp pain across your forehead. Then, everything faded to black.

-

You groaned as you woke up. The pain in your head made your thoughts foggy. You reached to rub the spot that hurt, but your arms were stuck behind your back. The restriction of your movement jolted you to the present, reminding you of the events before you lost consciousness.

"Jack," you whispered, anxiously looking around the room. No light streamed in from windows near the ceiling of the warehouse-type building you were being held in, so you knew it couldn't have been long. There were crates and boxes strewn about the room, some covered in canvas cloths.

You pushed yourself across the floor toward the nearest stack of crates, stretching as far as you could to pull the cloth off. Dust floated through the air, the cloth falling over your head. You moved desperately across the floor trying to rid yourself of the covering.

Finally getting free, you pushed yourself back toward the crates. You searched the edges, looking for anything rough enough to help you get rid of the tape. The rough concrete floor tore at your skin as you pushed further and further to search the other edges.

On your third try, you found a nail sticking out of the corner near the very bottom. Getting into the correct position was harder than you expected, and you scraped your hands and wrists in your efforts to cut the tape. Still, you managed to free your hands enough to rip through the last of the bindings. You quickly used your newly freed hands to tear the tape from your ankles as well. Slowly, you rose to your feet. You could feel your limbs were weak after being restrained.

You crept toward the door quietly. Before opening it, you listened for the sound of anyone on the other side. You could hear a faint whining, but no other movement. You winced at the sound of the door opening, but you moved through the doorway anyway. Jack was in the corner, his hands and feet bound similarly to your own, but with tape over his mouth.

"Jack," you rushed toward him. You removed the tape as carefully, but quickly, as possible. "Are you okay?" He nodded, but the tears in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "Come with me."

You grabbed his hand, again looking around the room in an attempt to escape. There was only one other door in the room making for an easy decision. Once again, you stopped at the door to listen for anything on the other side. When you didn't hear anything you slowly pushed through the door. You pulled Jack behind you, trying to keep him out of harm's way.

The new room looked just like the previous two, with one more door on the far side. Listening for noise on the other side, you could hear footsteps coming toward the door. You pushed Jack behind a stack of crates, ducking down with him just as the door flew open.

"FBI, show yourself!" A voice you'd never heard before called through the dust.

"Oh, thank God. Jack, let's go." You picked him up and ran toward the agent paying no mind to your weary limbs or the fact that Jack really was too big to be carried. "Where's Aaron?"

"He's checking another site, please come with me." The man guided you out of the warehouse and to a running SUV. You climbed in the back with Jack still holding him close to you.

"Where are the people who took us?" you asked, wanting to be sure you and Jack were safe.

"My colleagues took them in just a few minutes ago. We found them in the front of the warehouse. It's nice to finally put a face to the name, Y/N" he continued.

"Oh, of course! It's nice to meet you..." you drifted off, clearly waiting for a name.

"Derek. Derek Morgan," he supplied. You felt Jack squeeze your hand, but you attributed it to nerves.

"Well, thank you, Derek. You're alone here?" you questioned curiously. It didn't make sense for an agent not to have a partner.

"Like I said," he started. "My colleagues left to take in the men who took you." Once again, you felt Jack squeeze your hand. This time, you turned toward him.

"What's up, buddy? Derek is taking us to your dad." You tried to smile, but it was clear to both of you that it was a little forced. Jack shook his head as you spoke, gesturing for you to lean in closer.

"That's not Derek," he whispered, eyes wide.

"What?" you asked, although you heard him clearly. "But then..." Your adrenaline started pumping as you realized the precarious position you now found yourself in. "It's okay Jack. I'll figure this out."

"I don't think you will, Y/N. I don't think you will." The man driving cut the act. "I have to say, you weren't supposed to get out of the restraints. How'd you manage?" You ground your teeth to hold in your rapidly fluctuating emotions. "Oh, that's okay. I'll use something stronger than the buffoons who took you. Idiots."

Your mind was reeling as you tried to remember everything you knew about self-defense and how you might lead Aaron to you. A secondary location was bad enough, but a secondary kidnapping? One who you left with voluntarily? There won't be anything at the scene to tell them where to go... If you're going to get out of this, you have to do it yourself.

-

"What are we doing here?" Morgan asked, his exhaustion giving way to frustration.

"Tori Fallon, age 6, was reported missing an hour ago. She was taken from her bedroom after her parents read her a story." JJ filled in the team as Hotch walked through the door.

"What do we know?" he asked, not one to waste time on pleasantries.

"The window was broken and there was a note left," JJ added.

"From a chained accommodation, I see a desert with monuments built by the hands of an adolescent." Spencer read the riddle, pausing only momentarily to think. "A playground. Is there a playground she went to frequently?"

"Let's find out, she lives 25 minutes from here. Let's go," Rossi chimed in, already rising from his seat.

"A playground?" Emily questioned as they walked to the SUVs.

"A chained accommodation is a swing, the desert a sandbox. Children build sandcastles or 'monuments' in the sand." Reid shot back.

"Dave, take Morgan and see if you can find anything at the house. JJ, go with them and talk to the family. Reid, Prentiss, we'll head to the playground."

The team all nodded with a newfound focus driven by the motivation to find the missing girl. It didn't take more than half an hour for Hotch to pull the SUV to a stop in the playground parking lot.

"Check the swings and the sandbox. He might've left another clue," Hotch instructed, one hand on his weapon and the other holding his flashlight.

"Hello?" a young girl called out, her voice clearly terrified. "I did what you said!" she cried.

"Tori? We're with the police, where are you?" Emily called while Hotch and Reid followed through with the original plan.

"I'm in the slide!" she called, her voice more urgent. "You have to get me out, those were his rules!" Emily rushed to her, quick to check the slide was clear before climbing inside to help Tori. Hotch and Reid met them as they climbed out. Tori was completely fine, although still terrified.

"You're parents are on the way. They'll be here soon." Hotch tried to reassure her. "Whose rules?"

"The man you took me here. He said to stay in the slide until the police came to get me out. Or else he would hurt my mommy and daddy." She was still shaking in Emily's arms as her parents pulled up to the playground. JJ, Morgan, and Rossi walked up to the rest of the team, the question clear on their faces.

"Why kidnap a child and leave her completely fine at the playground 5 minutes away?" Rossi voiced the obvious.

"Reid." Hotch nodded to him and Spencer held up the note he found in the sandbox.

"For this," he unfolded the note, all eyes on him. "Lost something?"

"That's it?" Morgan asked, incredulous.

"No, there's a picture..." Reid turned the page around to show the team. It wasn't a recent picture, although Hotch was the only one who could tell with absolute certainty when it was from. You were squatting so you could be at eye level with the young boy you were talking to. The concern on your face was evident, but you were clearly smiling to appease the child. Hotch remembered that day. How could he forget? He nearly lost Jack and met you in the process.

He had his phone in his hand, speed-dial assisting him to make the call before anyone else had looked up from the image on display. "Answer the phone... Answer dammit!"

When the phone went to voicemail, Hotch immediately started moving. He gestured for the team to follow, but didn't bother waiting to see if they would. Dave and Emily got in the car with Aaron. Morgan, Reid, and JJ followed in the other SUV.

"Garcia,' he started when the next call connected. "I need a visual on my apartment building. I can't reach Y/N or Jack. Look out for a white male, dark hair, 5'9". Name is Tucker Landry."

"Running background as we speak." The sounds of Garcia rapidly typing could be heard in the silence. Hotch was already ten minutes from his apartment. "I've got the footage, sir. Two men, both white, but blonde."

"Dammit!" Hotch hit the wheel, his desperation leaking through. "I can't do this again, Dave. I can't lose them."

"You won't," he promised. "Garcia, track their car."

"Already on it, sir. I've followed them four miles north, but they're about to leave the city limits." She continued typing, tracking the car while simultaneously running the check on Landry.

"Find him," Hotch ordered. Meanwhile, he pulled up outside his apartment building. Despite knowing what he would find inside, he ran from the car. Forgoing the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time up the three flights to his apartment. The door was ajar, and drops of blood littered the hallway.

Rossi and Emily pushed past him into the apartment, clearing the rooms as they searched. Hotch stood paralyzed at the entrance, too stuck in the thoughts of what he could find to force himself through the door.

"All clear, they aren't here," Dave called from the kitchen. When no response came, he moved back to the door. "She's not here, Aaron. By the looks of it, they took them both alive."

Hearing that he still had a chance was what he needed to jolt him into action. He was back down the stairs before Morgan pulled the other SUV to the curb.

"What are we looking at?" Morgan asked, JJ and Reid coming around the other side of the SUV.

"Home abduction, minimal blood. Garcia tracked the car north but lost them at the edge of the city." As Rossi filled everyone in, Hotch was already profiling.

"He was opportunistic last time he tried to take Jack. He's not organized enough to coordinate this." Once again, he had his phone in his hand. "Garcia, did you find any properties in his name?"

"Yes, sir. I was about to dial you myself. Tucker Landry's father owned an old warehouse 10 miles north of the city. When his business went belly up, the warehouse was abandoned. Coordinates are already sent."

-

The warehouse appeared abandoned when they arrived, but that was nothing new. "Morgan, Prentiss go around back. Dave, JJ check for a side entrance. Reid, you're with me." Hotch ordered his team, already on the way inside.

With each room cleared, his anxiety worsened. His need to find you and Jack was nearly overwhelming. Finally, they entered a room, coming face to face with Derek and Emily.

"Back here!" JJ called. "There's duct tape and drops of blood. It looks fresh."

"They were here recently," Dave added. "It looks like she cut herself out of the binding on a nail."

"This is disorganized. So where are they?" Hotch paced, his mind running a mile a minute but coming up with no answers.

"Two bodies out back, looks like the blondes from the surveillance footage," Emily supplied.

"Why lead us here only to take them somewhere else?" JJ questioned.

"The riddle, the 'fake' but real kidnapping to get you out of the apartment, the picture we found there... It's all been about the chase. He wants to feel the power he wasn't able to last time." Reid spoke quickly, trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"He can't have meant for Y/N to get out of the tape. He might have a plan, but it's not very well thought through." Just as JJ finished talking, Morgan's phone started ringing.

"Babygirl," Morgan started, but he was quickly interrupted.

"Were they there? Are they okay?" Penelope jumped in, the need to know overwhelming her.

"They must have been here recently, but they're gone. We found the blondes, dead. Is there anywhere else he could take them?" he asked.

"The other reason for my call, although I was hoping you wouldn't need it. Landry's father died a few weeks ago. He left Tucker the house in his will. The paperwork hasn't all been filed because he should still be in prison, which is why I missed it on the first pass."

"Coordinates?"

"Already sent. Go get them." Penelope hung up, nervously looking for any more information she could find just in case. The rest of the team split up once more, hoping this would be the ride that lead to your and Jack's safe return.

-

Jack was bound, tape over his mouth, in the opposite corner of the room. You could still hear him crying, the tears pouring down his small cheeks. This time, he locked you both in a bedroom.

After forcing you and Jack into the room at gunpoint, he made you zip-tie Jack and cover his mouth with more duct tape. He then forced you to bind your own legs before quickly binding your hands. Still, he followed your example and bound your hands in front of you like you did to Jack.

With all the force you could muster, you pushed your hands out and pulled them toward you as fast as you could, pushing your wrists apart on the inswing. It took a few tries, but eventually, you felt the plastic snap. The ties around your feet were harder. Maneuvering closer to the bed, you pushed yourself up until you could cross one foot over the other. Then, you tried to sit down, flattening your ankles. Once again, you felt the plastic give.

Before you could move to free Jack, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs. You quickly moved back to your original position, laying the zip ties around your arms and legs as if they were still attached. At the last second, you gestured for Jack to close his eyes.

Finally, he opened the door and walked into the room with the same level of casualty you'd expect of an old woman on a Sunday stroll. He glanced at you and Jack, clearly pleased you hadn't been able to escape his supposedly superior binding- seems he wasn't much smarter than the so-called buffoons that kidnapped you first.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't cover your mouth." He started talking, and you had to force yourself not to roll your eyes. "Now we can finally talk," he smirked. "Do you remember me?" he waited. You squinted at him, trying to recognize any of the features. "Stupid bitch, just like before."

The words triggered a memory. Suddenly, you were back to leaning over Jack, protecting him from an onslaught of force from the man you knew not to be his father.

'Tucker," you whispered, involuntarily glancing at Jack. Thankfully, he didn't seem to recognize the man or the name.

"And she finally gets it!" he laughs. "You ruined my life. That boy," he points at Jack, "was my ticket out! Out of debt. Out of the country. OUT!" You didn't need to be a profiler to notice he was manic and devolving. "You know, when they gave me the task I thought that was it. There was no way I could figure out how to steal a child. And, boom, then he walked right past me, unaccompanied. But of course, you had to RUIN IT!"

He punctuated this most recent fit by hitting you across the face with the butt of his gun. You winced but still waited for the right opportunity.

"They broke me out of jail to finish the job. You see, bookies don't take kindly to getting stiffed, especially not the kind I've dealt with." Finally, his whole story made sense. "I had him! This would've been so much easier if you just stayed out of it." The sound of his laughing would haunt you for the rest of your life. "And now? Now you get to watch as I get the money I need, and I'm gonna use that kid-"

He turned as he spoke, gesturing to Jack with his empty hand. You took the opportunity to strike, your fear for your own life and Jack's life taking over.

Dating Aaron had many perks, but knowing how to defend yourself was possibly the most important thing he taught you. It was easy enough to surprise him, knocking into him hard enough to get him to drop the gun. Using the momentum to your advantage, you hit him in the solar plexus with the butt of your hand - no harm in falling back on knowledge older than your relationship with Aaron. Miss Congeniality was there for you when he wasn't.

When he fell backward, you quickly stooped to pick up the gun. Standing firmly, you braced yourself the way Aaron taught you, careful to stand at an angle that allowed you to point the gun at Tucker without having Jack in the background.

Tucker stood casually despite the gun aimed at his chest. His glare never left his eyes, but the pretentious smirk on his face clued you in. He was still underestimating you.

"You don't have it in you to shoot me."

You pulled the trigger with no hesitation. The bullet knocked him back to the ground, blood leaking from the chest wound. You could only hope Jack listened to your earlier warning and closed his eyes. You stood frozen, gun still pointed at Tucker for a moment. He was still looking at you when you saw the light leave his eyes.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing. The noise was enough to jolt you into action. If he was trying to sell Jack, then it's possible other people were on the way to the house right now. You made sure to click the safety on before stuffing the gun in the back of your pants like you see in movies.

You found yourself chuckling at how Aaron would definitely yell at you for bad form but now wasn't the time. Without a knife, you weren't sure how to free Jack without hurting him. Instead, you removed the tape from his mouth and carried him out of the room.

"It's okay. I'm gonna get you out of these and we're gonna drive away until we're safe and can call your dad, okay?" Jack just nodded, tears giving way to panic. Your frantic movements likely weren't helping, but you were running on pure adrenaline.

Making it down the stairs with Jack was difficult, but not impossible. Then, it was just a matter of finding the kitchen and using a small knife to cut through the zip ties. The fake FBI vest Tucker wore to "rescue" you was sitting on the counter. It might not be FBI issue, but maybe it is actually bulletproof. You slipped it over Jack's head and tightened the straps as best as you could without wasting too much time.

Thankfully, Tucker threw his keys on the counter as well, so you were able to grab those and head for the front door. Just before you could actually open the door, headlights shone through the windows and you froze.

"Let's go out the back, okay?" you grabbed Jack's hand and the two of you took off. You knew the house backed up to the woods from the ride in, so you ran until you and Jack had enough trees between you and the house to offer cover. You were close enough to see the people running into the house, but you couldn't quite hear them.

"Okay, this could be the actual police. But, it's only two cars... real police would bring SWAT and ambulances."

You sat with Jack behind the trees, holding him close while you tried to think of a plan. Running to the car would almost certainly end poorly. Staying in the woods would only work for so long. You glanced around the tree, thankful that the people inside left their headlights on. You could see clearly all the way down the driveway.

"Alright Jack, here's the plan: we're gonna steal one of their cars. They parked further down the driveway, so if we sneak through the woods we can reach the car without running into the open. Okay?" Jack nodded, his hand gripping yours tightly.

The two of you started making your way as quickly as you could manage with the limited light. As far as you could tell, the people were still looking for you inside- you could see their flashlights in the upstairs windows. About halfway to the car, you heard the back door bang open.

One of them was yelling, but over the sound of your own heart beating and the crunch of leaves under your feet, you could barely hear them. You pulled Jack a little harder, trying to reach the car faster now that the people were outside.

-

"They have to be here somewhere, fan out!" Aaron screamed, his panic clearly showing through. He took off toward the woods leaving the rest of his team to follow. "Please, Y/N. Please. I need you to be okay. I need you to have Jack. I just... I need it." Aaron muttered, desperately scanning the woods with his flashlight for any sign of you and Jack.

He was so deep into the woods he could barely see the house when he just barely heard Morgan yelling. His heart nearly stopped and for a minute he froze. Then, he ran.

-

"C'mon, Jack! We're nearly there," you whispered, still holding each other's hands tightly. When you were finally level with one of the SUVs, you wasted barely a glance before jumping out. One of the people was definitely headed in your direction, so you needed to move quickly.

You threw open the backseat, forcing Jack into the car and quickly the door. Already on the driver's side, you threw open your door as well. You could hear the closest person yelling, this time near enough to hear his words.

"Stop! FBI!"

You didn't let the claim phase you, instead hoisting yourself into the car and slamming your own door shut. "Jack, you buckled?" you asked, fastening your own seatbelt.

"Yeah," he whimpered, still terrified.

"Okay, close your eyes again buddy. I'm gonna keep you safe." You threw the car into reverse, whipping around only to find two other people in FBI vests waiting for you. An older man with a beard and a young blonde woman stood in front of you, guns in hand but not pointed at you. You could see the man who yelled running toward the SUV in your rear-view mirror.

Indecision coursed through you. You'd already taken one life today and these people were strangers. The gun you took from Tucker sat on the passenger seat, but you knew a car was a better weapon. You shifted into drive and pressed the gas, praying these two would just get out of the way. When the two realized you weren't going to stop, they jumped to the side, giving you a clear path out.

It was only when you reached the street that you realized you had no idea where you actually were. It was easy enough to remember the way back to the main road, but everything after that is a blur. It only took a few minutes for the other SUV to catch up to you.

You could feel the panic beginning to set in as you sped down the road. You couldn't see any turn-offs and the road was deserted. The people following you were going to catch up. The question was, what were you going to do about it?

-

"Who was that?" JJ asked, not bothering to dust the dirt from her pants before running with Morgan and Rossi to the other SUV.

"Call Hotch. That was Y/N and Jack," Morgan filled in as he started driving.

"You're sure?" Rossi questioned. When Derek merely nodded, he pulled out his phone. "Aaron, we found them. Y/N's a fighter. She managed to steal one of the SUVs, Jack's in the backseat."

"Where are you?" Aaron felt his panic subside, but he knew he wouldn't be fully calm until he had them in his arms again.

"We're following about a mile back, but she's in fight or flight. If her instincts said running was the safest bet, you can be sure she won't stop until she has to." Dave answered, doing his best to help calm Aaron's fears.

"So, how do we get her to calm down if we can't contact her?" JJ posited.

"She'll calm down if I'm there. I know she will," Aaron was quick to answer, but Rossi was just as fast.

"If we turn back now, we'll lose sight of her. If she thinks we can track the car, she'll ditch it. Aaron, where would she go?"

"Guys..." Morgan nodded toward your car, noting its declining pace. He slowed with you, maintaining the distance. Suddenly, you pulled a 180 and slammed to a stop and they watched as Jack ran from the car into the woods. "What the hell?"

"She wouldn't separate the two of them without good reason. Stop here," Dave instructed as they pulled up about 30 feet away. To their surprise, you got out on your own and stood behind the car door.

-

You needed a plan and you needed it quickly. Looking around the car, for anything that could help, you finally noticed a phone in the cupholder. Calling Aaron would help your nerves, but he couldn't help you fast enough. You needed a plan now.

"Jack, I'm gonna pull over. When I do, you have to take this phone and run into the woods," you started forming a plan, but Jack wasn't having it.

"I don't wanna leave you!" he cried, tears once again pouring down his face.

"I know, buddy. I know! I need you to be brave. I just need you to run and hide and call 911, okay? I'll stay near the car to keep the bad guys from following you. Then the police and your daddy will come to help us, okay? Can you do that for me? Can you call for help?" you hated putting this kind of pressure on him, but it was your only idea to keep him safe.

"I can do it," he said through tears, gripping the phone tightly when you passed it to him.

"You're so brave, Jack. Your dad is gonna be here soon," you could only hope you were telling the truth. "Don't come back out to me until you hear the police sirens, okay? Are you ready?"

After a few deep breaths, he whispered that he was and you slowed the car. Confident that they weren't going to speed up to crash into you, you whipped the car around and put it in park. Jack followed your plan precisely, running from the car as quickly as his little legs could carry him.

You quickly checked the bullets in your gun counting only five. It would have to do. Without much thought for how insane the entire situation was, you threw open your door and took cover behind it. Gun in hand, you watched the other car just sitting there while praying for the sound of sirens.

After a moment, the three people exited their SUV and stood in a similar fashion to you.

"Y/N, we just want to talk! We work with Aaron!" The older one yelled to you. You could tell the younger one who first yelled at you wanted to follow Jack into the woods.

"Don't come any closer!" you screamed back. "If you work with him, then why isn't he here?"

You know Aaron wouldn't give up the chance to find you. He wouldn't let himself be left behind, not when Jack and you were on the line. You won't fall for this again.

"He's back at the house," the blonde one chimed in. "He was searching the woods for you when you managed to escape."

You started shaking your head before she finished her sentence. After everything you and Jack had been through, you stubbornly refused to believe he had been so close and you missed him.

"We're FBI. We're here to help." The older one started yelling again, but you didn't know what to believe. "I have Aaron on the phone."

You had no idea if he was telling the truth, and no plan came to mind to get the phone without putting yourself in danger. But if Aaron really was on the phone...

"What are your names?" you asked. Even after a year together, Aaron was still too anxious to actually introduce you to the FBI world. Despite never meeting his team, he has told you plenty of stories about them.

"My name is Jennifer Jureau, friends call me JJ." Her voice was calm as she spoke.

"Derek Morgan," the younger man added and you sobbed. You could hear the older man giving his name, but you couldn't understand them. It was the same name. You had no way of knowing if they were telling the truth.

"Why don't you let me get Jack out of the woods? He's probably scared," the man claiming to be Derek called, already moving toward the woods.

"No. No!" Your hands shook as you lifted the gun. "Don't go anywhere near him! I'll shoot! You saw Tucker!"

"Gun!" One of them yelled and they all jumped back behind the doors.

"Y/N, we just want to talk. Tell us how we can convince you."

-

Aaron was still on the phone with Dave, listening as they tried to calm you down. Emily holding him back was the only thing stopping him from chasing after you on foot.

"I should be there, dammit!" he screamed, pacing.

"She's safe, Hotch. We called for backup," Reid started, but screaming on the other end of the phone stopped everyone.

"Gun! Y/N, we just want to talk. Tell us how we can convince you!"

Dave must've shifted the phone to speaker and set it on the car because Aaron could hear you yelling this time.

"That's what he said!" Your voice was raw and shaking and his heart broke a little more. "He said he was there to help and he lied. He lied! Where's Aaron? I just want Aaron."

Finally, the local police pulled into the driveway. Emily and Spencer stayed behind to fill in the officers. Aaron practically jumped into the first squad car that pulled up to the house, paying no mind to the police that just left the vehicle. He used Emily's phone to follow the GPS coordinates Penelope sent once the two SUVs stopped moving.

-

"I just want Aaron," you practically sobbed. You hastily rubbed your cheeks to rid yourself of the tears. You were so close, you couldn't give up now. You were still trying to come up with a plan when you finally heard sirens approaching.

Jack ran to you from the woods when the first squad car pulled up. You threw the gun to the ground and wrapped Jack as tightly as you could. Everyone was approaching you, but you only had eyes for Jack.

"You're okay? Does anything hurt?" you asked him, eyes running over his entire body.

"I'm okay," he started. He was going to continue when his eyes lit up. "Uncle Dave!" He ran from your arms to hug the older man from the other SUV. "Uncle Morgan! Aunt JJ!" He hugged them all before returning to you.

You felt renewed tears when you realized what Jack's reaction meant. "You're actually FBI? Aaron... Aaron's at the house?"

"He's on the way here now," the real Derek Morgan filled you in.

"I- I'm sorry I pointed a gun at you," you swallowed, hugging Jack again while you spoke. The relief of finally being safe was setting in and you realized how exhausted you were.

Before any of the agents could reply, another squad car screeched to a halt. The door was opened practically before the car was fully stopped.

"Aaron," you whispered just as Jack screamed, "Dad!"

Aaron was to you and Jack before either of you could take a step. For a few minutes, he just held you both.

"Daddy! I called the police and you came! Just like Y/N said," Jack was all smiles now that everything was over. He would obviously need to work through all of the trauma experienced in the last six hours, but right now he's just glad to be with his dad.

"Of course I did, buddy," he answered, still holding the two of you. "I'll always come for you. Both of you," he squeezed tighter before looking between the two of you. There were uncharacteristic tears brimming in his eyes and his voice betrayed the emotion he was clearly experiencing.

"Jack, why don't we take you over to the ambulance to get checked out? I'll stay with you," Dave guided him over, removing the too-big bulletproof vest as they went.

"Where did you get a vest?" Aaron tried to smile at the adorable image of Jack in an oversized vest, but it vanished when you sobbed into him.

"I'm so sorry, Aaron. I'm so sorry. I wanted to get him out and I walked right into his trap. Tuck- Tucker pretended to be FBI, said the rest of his team took in the guys who kidnapped us and you were searching another potential site. I, I shouldn't have gone with him. I should've known. I-"

"It's not your fault," Aaron cut you off. "You kept him safe. You got him out," he comforted you.

"He," you hiccuped. "He said he was going to sell Jack to pay off his debts. After I... I killed him..." you trailed off. You were only now coming to terms with the events that transpired. "I didn't know if the people coming into the house were the buyers. I didn't know if you'd be able to find us when he took us to a tertiary location. I had to get away. Once I got Jack to safety I was going to call you, but then we were being followed."

"You don't have to go through this now," Aaron interrupted the story, trying anything to get you to stop shaking.

"I do," you insisted trying to get through it quickly. "I found a phone in the car," you started up again, wiping your cheeks. "I asked Jack to run into the woods and call 911 so he wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. I thought... I was willing to kill them if they tried to take Jack," you sobbed.

"I never wanted you to have to do that, but I need you to know how proud I am of you," Aaron soothed, and you managed to choke back your tears enough to listen to him. "I know you did everything to protect Jack. You fought and you bled and you did what you had to to make sure both of you came back to me," his voice broke as he finished the sentence.

"You came for us too," you breathed out. You held each other for another moment before Jack came running back.

"Uncle Dave says it's your turn to get checked," Jack grabbed your hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Jack. I'm just so happy that you're okay, and that your dad is here," you squeezed his hand back. He pulled you toward the ambulance and Aaron followed along. They both stood with you while you got cleaned up, Jack still holding your hand. With these two by your side, you knew you'd be okay.

Taglist:

Permanent: @averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @strawberryspence @ellobruv

CM: @mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain @justreadingficsdontmindme

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch #hotch criminal minds #criminal minds fic #hotch fic

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: When MC has to reject someone painfully

~ is this oddly specific? yes. is writing this getting me through an impossible workday and potential nervous breakdown? also yes. is there any other way I'd be able to write right now? ... probably not ~

-- to set the scene --

You had hoped that making it clear you only see them as a friend would work. You had hoped that expressing your disinterest in a new romance multiple times would work. You had hoped that encouraging them towards other people and reiterating that you are not the gender they are attracted to would work.

... it did not work.

It takes an hour of being misgendered and suppressing your PTSD to counter every argument they propose for why you should reconsider (and to make it clear, again, that you really aren't the person for them) before they give up and walk away, and there's still five hours left before you can go home. You're starting to feel a little nauseated from the whole ordeal and seriously contemplating telling everyone you're sick and leaving early. Just as you're about to give up, you see the familiar face of your beloved walk into the room for a surprise visit.

Julian

He's already starting his story from across the room about how terrible the traffic was but how worthwhile the suffering is if it means he gets to see your face and - speaking of your face -

That is a very tight smile, he can tell something's not right

His voice dies mid-sentence before he's settling in front of you with a serious expression on his face. "What's troubling you, MC?"

Won't leave you alone until you either tell him or make it clear that you genuinely don't want to talk about it

If you do tell him about it right away, you're about to watch him get very angry on your behalf (though he won't lose his composure - his main goal is to comfort you)

Will go full protector mode. You keep getting reminded of the way Malak paces and ruffles his feathers when he's upset

If you want to stay and finish your tasks, he'll leave you to it, but only after giving you one of his signature all-encompassing hugs

Stops by half an hour later with a raunchy love letter to read in front of "the miscreant" in case you have any more trouble from them

Rants about it to everyone he meets that afternoon. By the time you get home that evening Mazelinka has already heard about it and sent over some comfort soup for dinner

Asra

Knows something's up as soon as they walk in. Doesn't want to cause a scene, but also doesn't care two whits about anything keeping them from comforting you

Yes he's hugging you regardless of who can see. No he's not letting go until he's sure you feel safe and loved and supported

Will indirectly ask what's wrong and if you feel okay telling them about it. Won't push you to or not to talk either way

If you tell him right away, he'll silently decide that he's spending the rest of the day at your side. Makes himself comfortable until you're either ready to go home or you tell him that you've got this

May or may not teasingly suggest leaving an obvious hickey on your neck. Will enthusiastically follow through if you allow it

If "the nuisance" walks in while they're with you, they'll practically plaster themself to your side (to the extent that you're comfortable with) and send them judgemental glances the whole time

Starts making a point of dropping by every day to bring you a snack or a trinket and drop a kiss on your cheek

Certainly not to let everyone you spend your time around know that you're happily taken

And definitely not to harmlessly prank "the nuisance"

Showers you with gender affirming compliments for months

Nadia

She's so intuitive, the whole reason she decided to stop by so abruptly was because she suddenly felt worried for you

Glad she listened to her gut as soon as she sets eyes on you because you are clearly not thriving and she can't have that

"MC, my darling, you look perturbed. What's the matter?"

The difficult thing about being asked questions by a woman in leadership is that even when she's not trying to get an answer out of someone, it's still almost impossible to dodge her questions

Her face will slowly darken and twist with disgust as your story continues, but her grip on your hands remains gentle and cool

Asks you how long it's going to be until you can come home. Then asks what would be involved in bringing you home sooner

Makes the arrangements for you to come home with her right now

Does all of the above while either holding your hand, wrapping her arm around your waist, looping your arm through hers, or some combination of all three

Makes sure to send you off every morning with a lipstick print on your cheek and a love note in your pocket

May or may not start collecting info on "that scoundrel"

May or may not start subtly asking if you've had any further communication or trouble with them at the end of every day

Muriel

Knows from your body language that you're uncomfortable and upset as soon as he sees you and briefly wonders if it's his fault

As soon as your face lights up with relief on seeing him, though, he knows that's not the case and starts looking around for whatever is causing you this much distress. He can't see anything

Well, now he's uneasy too

Might ask "what's wrong?" but is more likely to offer you a big, comforting hug and then look at you with such loving worried eyes that you crack and spill everything in the first five minutes

Listens closely while you talk, only giving small nods of acknowledgement and gentle encouraging squeezes

Makes no effort to fix his resting bitch face towards anybody that walks by or tries to approach you. Here's not here for them, he's here for you, and one of them potentially caused all of this

Offers to stay nearby for the rest of the day (which is quite the sacrifice on his introverted part, mind you) if it will help you feel safe and remember that you're loved and accepted as you are

Makes sure to have all your favorite grounding and soothing things laid out when you get home. (comfy clothes? check. comfort food? check. thick furs and fluffy blankets? check. snuggles? ... check)

Sends a bouquet of wildflowers with you every morning now

Portia

So excited to surprise you that she doesn't realize how overwhelmed you are until she gives you her signature bear hug and notices that you're shaking all over

Slowly steps back, eyes widening with concern as she looks you over and then steps back in to wrap you in a gentler hug

"Hey, you okay? Talk to me, MC, what's wrong?"

Absolutely infuriated the longer you speak. By the time you've told her everything, she's got tears in her eyes and seems ready to rip "that bastard" a new one. (She doesn't, she squeezes you instead)

Showers you with aggressive gender affirming compliments instead and starts asking if you need anything

She brought snacks. Eat the snacks. She'll take care of the rest

You'll have to stop her from storming off to a find a person she's never met before and giving them a piece of her mind

Squeezes your hands and tells you how much she loves you and how proud of you she is before stepping back and loudly calling you her amazing perfect partner so everyone hears her

She has to leave shortly because her schedule is packed full but she'll be back every half hour to check in on you and bring you a snack and kiss you where everyone can see her

Comes up with all kinds of curses for "that bastard"

Lucio

He doesn't know and he has no way of knowing because he's himself. You'll either have to visibly cry or tell him yourself

And if you do want to tell him right away, well, you're going to have to wait until he finishes loudly expressing how happy he is to see you and how much he missed you

Because that's it, that's what he does every single time he sees you regardless of the context (even at a funeral, once, it was unfortunate)

And anyways, who wouldn't want to brag about being the one MC chose? That's the world's greatest honor! He'll announce it from the rooftops if he feels like it!

Which is how Lucio obliviously solves most of your problem before you even have the chance to tell him about it. Everyone in your vicinity knows you're taken by someone who takes you seriously

And who wouldn't be at least a little cheered up by a genuine greeting like that? That "human oopsie" has nothing on him

When you do tell him, he's shocked. How dare someone treat you like that! That is not MC-appropriate behavior

He's tempted to hunt them down and challenge them to some kind of competition so they'll be suitably humbled and leave you alone

He settles for peacocking around you several times a week during lunch so the "human oopsie" knows what they're up against

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[coffehbeans]

G/t WAC Day 2

"Post a prompt/scenario you wish you saw more often"

Oh boi, there's so many things I want to see more stories of!

More adventurous stories. Usually, some g/t stories feel a little... Boring. Sorry. It's just, even when there's fantasy it mostly revolves around two characters interacting in a slice of life rhythm, in the same place (usually a house or an apartment) and it gets stale pretty easily. I talked about this in a post before. Put your blorbos in situations! Make subplots, or conflicts, explore your world, change the setting, raise the stakes, you know? I just wish giants and tinies stopped being fixed in the same setting the entire story, and if they are, make smth more interesting happen, idk. I struggle with this too so I understand.

Growth. It's still so underutilized in stories. But oh, not any type of growth, no, I wish there were more lowkey body horror growth scenes. Like, make the character terrified of what they're becoming, make the growth painful, almost monstrous smh, make me, the reader, terrified, idk lol. I just wish there was more horror-centered growth sequences and the existential dread that comes with becoming five stories tall.

Giant Kaiju battles. Yeah. This is so hyper specific lmaoo like, I've only read one story with giants duking it out in the middle of the city and it was so cool that I wanna see more of it. Preferably with the little humans running away, to add that sweet old tension!

Accidental city rampage. Like, I never see this trope, ever. Idk, maybe this is the climax of a story, or a giant is stranded in a planet of tiny people and ends up in the middle of a bustling city, or someone becomes a giant and is so confused they're stepping over cars and breaking stuff. It's just that underlying fear of someone unwillingly commiting so much destruction that keeps me on my toes.

Giant elves?? Idk, just a race of really big, really elegant giants.

Fairies and fairy worlds! I loved Tinkerbell as a kid and just wish to see more stories with that child-like wonder of discovering a magical society of cute, tiny fairies.

Bring back that trope of someone finding a giant in the forest but like, let it come to a tense climax. I've read some stories that have this trope and then... Nothing happens. It's just, the giant lives comfortably in a huge house or smth, or goes back to their dimension, or is friends with the government. Where's the drama?? Lmaoo like, make a climax where the giant gets captured and the whole world knows, or give the tiny a rescue arc but then the giant secret is exposed, idk make stuff happen lol you could even add accidental city rampage in this one, there's so many possibilities.

I think that's all I could think about!

#gtwac #wacprompts #g/t #giant/tiny #sfw g/t #coffeh speaks up

[captainzigo]

since I have been making my little pony comics for the past few months, I have basically forgotten what every single one of my duckverse comic prompts means. I had a big list full of one sentence prompts for duckverse comics that I was going to make, and I was reading through it yesterday, because I thought about making one. I was surprised to find out that I have no idea what any of them mean. instead of just deleting the list, I have decided to share with you. For what good it will do you. Think of this as a little shout out to the people who followed me for duckverse content. i havent forgotten about you. it’s also a little peek in my twisted mind. my horrible creation process. a behind the scenes look from hell. the list of prompts is below the break

max college fund

launchpad rescue hero

costco 22¢ per bite

house of mouse

door to darkness

because i’m hispanic?

donald cousins catch and release

fish wife

the greatest skateboard trick in the seven seas

backyardagins movie

evil versions boy band

gladstone gay moms

the poor part of town

private army of freaks vs my boys

you own the town. you are politics - what do you think taxes are for - not gladstone bail - id be doing everyone a favor

kids table is great actually

donald cry gold swim

beautiful gold moon

villains table

these lovebirds

gladstone can’t read

gladstone hyper specific thrift store shirt

louie seeing anyone right now?

managed my uncle’s finances

june dolls episode

may louie webs spy episode

house of mouse christmas hdl want to come

propeller cap start to turn. big wind. its a helicopter landing. thanks babe

double gay batteries

daisy likes donald snoring

if you can understand anything he says then yeah!

sora. quack pack. bald monkey

i respect your pronouns. i dont not respect YOU scrooge

why are you friends with my rival’s girlfriend

we’re sisters now too???

The dancing hacker - do you know how hard it is to lucid dream

are you guys playing dancing hacker?

how did you do that? Those dice were rigged i mean.

you guys were supposed to prepare a musical number every session

Lady in pink but with a knife

girl boss? No girl lady. But not a girl.

sephirof at the door. never seen Donald that serious in my life.

I have a superhero alter ego - like super Grover?

louie x robin the frog

daffy: i’m getting you a job in Hollywood, kid! You gonna make big times. Why? uh… i’m friends with your mom.

Duckburg community college is the only community college that does dance scholarship

duckberg community ducks, and the Duckburg University geese

in helicopter: you ever going to get tired of having our dates like this? no never.

donald take responsibility for our son! panchito what

babe your costume is terrible. why are you still in a sailor hat

tasha austin gay lesbian solidarity

hey webby! *glittery hands*

webby diary

shake for trust? glitter on hand. body slam

why did t you tell me your girlfriend is a pilot? tasha said i shouldn’t tell you because of what happened to you pilot ex. he’s still alive!

pablo: sleeper agents be like time for my next mission

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

WHATS UP T-BOYS?

donald’s boyfriends what does gladstone have against gay people

donald you should wingman for me. i thought you were gay

dugan duck is your secret kid isn’t he

huey ponytail

donald has three boyfriends why can’t i have two

woops i mexed up their super powers - let’s go, t boys! i didn’t make them trans! they were like that before, right?

your brother donald has like five partners. yeah and i’m not my brother donald. you’re right. i should date your brother donald

dewey damn girl your ass phat what are your pronouns. katy nun/ya

tying normie trans girl to a chair turbo pablo

don’t worry. the promise ring is just a tracking device

punch buggy gets steadily more and more violent

dewey’s many licenses

duck twins cobwebs

beaks: help! #911

katy can not entertain in her tiny trailer

uno gaydar donald i finally give you a job and you’re being gay on the clock??

when mom comes in and you have to hide your DS under your pillow

HDL Tulin

HDL chart

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #donald duck #dt17 #duckverse

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! I was wondering if you knew of any longer angst fics with hurt Crowley? I know that you have a hurt Crowley tag, but I guess I’m specifically looking for longer fics (at least 70k words) with some angst! Thank you if you can! (:

Hi! Filtering for hurt Crowley, angst, and a minimum of 70k words on ao3 only gives us 32 fics (at time of writing this post!), so you can check them all out! Here is a small collection from the results. Mind the tags!...

A Hell of a Game by Zab43 (E)

Crowley's new boss is Hastur: a promotion from the pits, where Hell's torments are carried out. All the pit demons have reputations, but Hastur's is worse than most.... In Hell all relationships are abusive and Hastur's dealings with his new underling are no exception. A story told through the medium of therapy and flashbacks. Full of angst(!), abuse, PTSD, panic attacks and a big slice of understanding from a real life angel. Set after the failed apocalypse, but the main events are told through Crowley’s memories of Hell and are set thousands of years before. The theme is surviving and recovering from an abusive relationship, so any historical background is just window dressing really. Chapters alternate between Aziraphale & Crowley and Crowley/Hastur scenes with other characters as background only. This is a total stand alone, but is set (pretty much) in the same imagining of the GO world as another of my stories: Twelve Years Ago. Hastur's character is intended to be the same, but this brings out his (much) nastier side. Some of my demon OCs make brief appearances too, but there aren't any interactions between the two stories.

True Disaster by NuriaSchnee (E)

After Crowley saves him in 1941, Aziraphale realises he's fallen in love with the demon. Scared this dangerous feeling of his will cause problems to his friend, he tries to break their relationship. However, his plan to push the demon away fails and they end up admitting their feelings to each other. To be able to be together and keep it a secret, Crowley stops time every time they meet. However brilliant this seems at first, it doesn't take long to backfire, opening new wounds and raising more barriers between them.

Don't Cry for Me by The_Bentley (E)

The Apocalypse happened and Heaven came out on top. Hell has been locked away for all eternity while demons captured as prisoners of war during the battle were taken to Heaven to serve angels. Aziraphale and Crowley are reunited under these circumstances and make plans to escape the nightmare life has become. Alpha Centauri looks like a good start if they can escape first to Earth then into the stars themselves. But other plans might be brewing besides theirs. Aziraphale must also be prepared for the dam to burst when Crowley can no longer keep pushing the trauma he endured to the back of his mind.

My Name is Raphael by The_Angel_Melathiel (M)

Stranded in the past with no memory of his identity, Crowley begins a new life with the help of Agnes Nutter. Meanwhile, Aziraphale embarks on a race against and through time to track down his demon. If you want to read a somewhat unusual story and, above all, want to get to know a few new characters, you've come to the right place. Also, you will see Agnes Nutter's story in a whole new light after reading this fanfiction.

Another Time, Another Place by indigo (E)

What if? Two words - so powerful. A slight divergence from canon sees a very different life for Aziraphale five years after the world didn’t end. Ostracised from Heaven, he now lives in a world with bookshops and Afternoon Tea, but without Crowley; a world in which he believes Crowley gave his life to save him. However, it’s not quite that simple, and maybe they can somehow get a happy ending after all??? (They can, and they do. But let’s not tell Aziraphale that just yet. It’ll spoil the fun!)

Per Aspera Ad Astra by Fire_Traveller (M)

After the Almost-Apocalypse, both Crowley and Aziraphale tentatively enjoy their new freedom - but it turns out that they are quite right in not trusting the new situation: All too soon, it seems that Heaven and Hell are after them again, out for revenge on their two 'former employees'. Apart from all that, it seems that Crowley also has some secrets of his past that he never told Aziraphale about, stuff they should definitiely address eventually... Disclaimer: As the tags point out, there's some major character injuries and some other drama - but I promise, there's a happy ending, too! They'll be fine!

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #hurt crowley #angst #long fic #mod d

[melloncolliegalaxies]

big little things

1. "how are you feeling?"

2. the sky—night or day. blue skies, gray skies,  sunsets, sunrise. stars. cotton candy clouds. the moon. 

3. "i miss you."

4. petting a cat, feeling the vibrations as they pur. listen to it, they're saying "i feel safe here. with you."

5. someone creating something for you—a drawing, a piece of music, a poem, a sweater. a meal. anything. 

6. that one song you listen to (over and over again) when you just need to feel understood. 

7. "you make me happy."

8. having dinner with people who can make a bad day feel even slightly better. 

9. when someone remembers you—your birthday, your fears, your heartaches. your favorite things. your dreams. 

10. "i appreciate you."

11. listening to the rain in a cozy spot—snuggled in a comfy bed, or on a couch, or in someone's arms. 

12. watching someone's face light up when you lock eyes. 

13. feeling someone you love kiss your forehead when they think you're sleeping.

14. watching someone you love sleep, taking in their peaceful expression until you fall asleep too. 

15. belly-laughing with loved ones.

16. inside jokes.

17. flowers on your birthday. flowers any day. flowers, flowers, flowers.

18. Christmas lights. 

19. feeling comfortable enough with someone to let them touch you, hug you, high-five you, hold your hand, trace your face and body with their fingers, kiss you. 

20. giving someone a gift they really wanted. observing and absorbing their glee. 

21. someone doing something kind for you without you having to ask. 

22. someone taking the time to (respectfully) teach you something new. 

23. pleasant aromas—vanilla, the perfume or cologne or deodorant your lover wears, whatever's cooking in the kitchen, and that very specific scent wafting in the air, you know, the one that reminds you of a happier time. 

24. doing something, anything during a very bad depressive episode. you brushed your teeth? fed yourself? showered? did laundry? fantastic. 

25. "i can't wait to see you."

26. being preserved in someone's spaces—your pictures are on their desk, their walls, their lockscreen, in a pendent, in photo albums. 

27. feeling comfortable enough to undress in front of someone, to present your natural self to them—no clothes, no makeup, messy hair. 

28. "i'm here for you" and they actually are. they're at your doorstep. they're texting you through it. they call, they listen.  

29. the scene in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind when Clementine and Joel's first memory together collapses. "Meet me in Montauk…"

30. someone asking you to listen to their favorite song. please listen to it—all of it.

31. "you make me so proud."

32. Ellie and Carl's "married-life" montage in Up

33. jinx. saying something at the same time as someone else and then grinning at each other.

34. when someone watches or reads the things you recommend. bonus points if they wind up loving it. 

35. when Joel tells Ellie "i struggled for a long time with surviving. and, no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for," in The Last of Us

36. "i was just thinking about you."

37. that thing you accomplished that no one knows about. 

38. someone supporting your work—buying your painting, sharing your novel with their friends, watching your streams.

39. the cutscene in The Last of Us Part 2 where Ellie expresses her frustration toward Joel for saving her life over sacrificing her for the cure, and he firmly tells her, "i would do it all over again."

40. "you make my life better." i met you and my smile is so big it hurts my cheeks. the sun seems brighter, this chocolate chip cookie tastes sweeter. i'm looking forward to tomorrow because you'll be there. your birthday is one of the best days of my life. oh my God, oh my God, this is terrifying—oh wait, there you are. it's not so bad anymore, actually. thank you for being here—for choosing to be here—with little old me in this brief moment in time when you could share it with anyone, anywhere in this very beautiful, very daunting, very big world. 

#poetry #writers on tumblr #my writing #writing #poetrylovers #poem #poeticstories #writerscreed #twcpoetry #poems and poetry #original poetry #poetry on tumblr #poetry of the heart #poetry and prose #poems on tumblr #poets of tumblr #tumblr poetry #poetry community #poetry corner #writing community #lit #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled thoughts #poetry and quotes #quotes

[agentravensong]

hello, fellow hatchetfield fans! here are my stray nerdy prudes must die thoughts, which i'm going to try to keep brief (she said, before spending an hour writing this)

the production level of the show as a whole really blew me away. the lighting; demon!max's costume and makeup; even the way it was shot and edited felt even more electric than past shows

this is the only one of the full-length hatchetfield musicals to have one consistent antagonist throughout (black friday has linda but half the leads don't know about her at all until the climax, plus there's wilbur and wiggly). and i gotta say, max's actor really killed it. hilarious, terrifying, and even with moments of nuance. he repeatedly stole the show.

some of the songs are already stuck in my head. off the top of my head i can't think of any that stood out in a bad/unmemorable way (though i could just be forgetting them, lol). ruth's song in particular i think is gonna really stick with me once i listen to it a few more times.

and i love the way the "i'm not a loser" motif gets used throughout the show. the closest any of the songs got me to having the visceral reaction i have to "did you know that i wanted to live with you" in "not your seed" and the bridge + ending of "let it out" ("i've never been happy...") was when richie sings that line right before... well.

speaking of richie: as a paul stan, what this show proved to me more than anything is that when jon matteson plays a sympathetic lead (or side character - hi daniel/stopwatch), he will always break my heart. he's just. really good.

thinking about how in the last of the originally planned 3 hatchetfield shows, initially conceptualized as the first, jon's character is the first one to sing, whereas in the first of those shows, conceptualized as the last, the whole crux of the musical is him refusing to sing, the audience essentially waiting for the moment he breaks and does it. thinking about how the opening of npmd tells us richie is going to die, already dying, already dead, while the opening number of tgwdlm tells us paul is the target, the Doomed Hero, the "star of the show" "destined to go viral" [read: get infected], whose story is going to be told, already written.

thinking about how singing dooms paul, and how richie singing "i'm not a loser", reigniting max's ire, is the final nail in his coffin.

...i'm normal.

there's a lot of meta jokes and nods of that sort throughout the show. maybe a few too many? like, at a certain point, as a fan, i do feel like i'm being pandered to a bit.

i liked the lords in black's scene, it was a lot of fun! it's always great to see jon get to let loose with crazy characters, and the others were great too. but i do wonder how it plays for people who haven't been following nightmare time stuff. like, i get that in one world this was our introduction to these characters, but even in that world, i wonder if including all five of them with their specific names and allusions to their individual deals is a bit too much for what the plot of this show needs. there's something to be said for not showing all your cards right away.

on the other hand, i feel like the paulkins coffee scene actually fully earned its inclusion: because when pete comes in asking for his hot chocolate, it reads differently when we're coming at it from having followed his perspective up to this point versus having been following paul in tgwdlm, in a way that strengthens both scenes. it's a nice reminder that emma and paul can be... rude, i guess. assholes, even (she really didn't need to spit in it). that idea of perspectives affecting how we categorize people arguably even plays into the themes of this show! how about that.

ah, yes, Themes. there are Themes to be drawn out of this show about the experience of high school, especially in an intertextual comparison to how tom and becky talk about their time in high school in black friday. something about how the two of them see it as this idealistic time they want to go back to, whereas the teens (the nerds/outcasts) in npmd sing that they'll "still despise it when [they're] gone". something about how in ruth's solo number, the fantasy future she imagines for herself (even in the context of it being a performance for an audience of no one) is of a standard, arguably dreary, middle-aged existence. there's definitely stuff there to be dissected.

and also there's arguably a theme of continuing cycles of cruelty, brought into focus by the ending, but also implied with the way the adults failed the kids (see max referencing his dad belittling him).

...but also, i feel like they could have done more with that.

that's my one big thing with this show, and it could very easily just be that the genre of this show isn't as much my jam, but i'll say it anyway: i wanted more from the characters, and more emotional weight in regards to certain things.

like, between this and tgwdlm, i think tgwdlm is still the better written show. there's just, a subtly to the characters there, a grounded human-ness, that i didn't quite get from all of the teens here.

as much as i clearly have a soft spot for richie, that's mostly on jon; as written, there really isn't much there, beyond "anime nerd" and "generally nice kid who wants to be liked". the scene right before he dies is comedic in how obvious it's setting things up, but its obvious-ness also makes it feel kind of cheap in terms of pulling on the heartstrings. similarly, ruth is initially just a gimmick (though hers at least ties into a deeper insecurity) and only gets her real moment of depth right before she dies. neither of them feel like they have much affect / haunting presence on the surviving teens once they're dead, past the initial shock of the reveals of their deaths.

and steph and pete are good, but... idk. i wanted a bit more from each of them. if they got to have a talk like paul and emma before "join us and die" - not even for the sake of the romance, but just for the sake of giving us more on each of them outside of their basic stereotypes and the romance - that would've helped, i think.

grace was great, though, no qualms. initially there was a part of me that was disappointed that the stereotype max was pushing on her about her being secretly repressed and horny was in fact true, but the way it gets used makes up for it, and in between max's death and when that specific thing comes up again in the climax, she gets to do a lot with the two conflicting sides of her personality, wanting to be good but having a capacity and arguable instinct for scheming and ruthlessness.

(also, as i mentioned earlier, max has a surprising amount going on, especially once you get into the Implications)

it could just be that i see those depths in the tgwdlm cast because i've had more time to chew on that cast, and that in time i'll see these teens in the same light. but i don't think it's just that.

i think part of it is how there are so many jokes about the teens being nerdy prudes (really, mostly just nerds). and like, that's part of the point, obviously, that they were being forced into those boxes and that they were still people with the potential to be more. but... i don't know if the show does enough to really make that point. again, richie doesn't really get to be more (and it's not for lack of time - there's a good amount of show before max comes back as the demon and kills for the first time).

in tgwdlm, the mains are all arguably based on stock characters, but they have more depth through their relationships. look at ted, the stock asshole sleazeball, who's shown to feel genuine remorse when he loses people he loves, in a way that contextualizes his bitterness. and there's a lot less highlighting of the stockness of them in their show than there is of the teens in npmd.

and the thing is, i think the cast of npmd at their foundations are more likable than the cast of tgwdlm (see the earlier point about emma and paul being assholes at times). they had a lot of potential. but i don't think enough of it is realized for the majority of them. the edges the tgwdlm cast has are part of what makes them compelling, and it's something the teens (minus grace) are largely missing.

the thing is, i know the fandom is going to see that potential and run with it. i know that they're gonna develop the teens' characterizations and relationships. i know they'll get into the trauma and the implications from everything that happened to them in the show. i know they'll get into... pete's survivor's guilt, and steph losing her dad(!!!), and what richie and ruth could have been, and all that. i know that they'll fill in the gaps. because that's what fans do. i guess i just wish there weren't so many gaps to fill. or, that the gaps wouldn't take so much effort from them to fill.

again, i acknowledge, maybe i'm expecting too much from the genre of show this is. it doesn't need to have A Point, i guess, it can just be fun, a comedic horror slasher in musical form. and it is fun, a lot of fun! ...but, tgwdlm was also a lot of fun. not as bombastic, for sure, but i'd say just as humorous. and it was also incredibly tightly written, and satisfying, with strong character arcs for multiple leads. it had commentary on musicals, on what makes a protagonist and what it means to be one, on conformity and institutions of authority, on romance even (you could do a very interesting aromantic reading of this show, trust me). and with a show that's titled nerdy prudes must die, that is About high school, there's, similarly, a lot you can do. and there's a fair amount of seeds planted there. but i don't think it all quite coheres. and it could've, if they really wanted it to.

...i did not keep that brief. ah well. i might disagree with half of this by the time i wake up tomorrow, i just needed to get it out of me. tl;dr, in my opinion, this show is stronger than black friday, but tgwdlm is still my favorite. all the cast and crew put a lot of love into this production and it really shows. i had a great time! :D but i'm always going to overanalyze things i care about as much as i care about the hatchetfield universe, and hence, here we are.

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #tgwdlm #npmd spoilers #nerdy prudes spoilers #if people have deeper reads of the teens based on stuff in the show itself that i didn't pick up on #i'd love to hear them! #for reference if anyone's curious: my absolute fav hatchetfield characters are #paul - hannah - lex - and ms halloway

[midnightactual]

The Nobility of Soul Society

So how exactly do the noble ranks in Soul Society work by comparison with more familiar European ranks? Let's start from the top.

We're told in chapter 223 that there is a royal family. The first speech bubble is:

尸魂界にも王家つてのがいるのよ

The key component of this is 王家, Ōke, "royal family". So far so good, nothing to see here. Except we know this is purely propaganda, because the Soul King is a dismembered body with no direct living relatives, only his discarded parts and pieces absorbed into unrelated individuals. "The emperor has no clothes", quite literally in this case, and no power, and there is no royal family, just the Soul King himself. This is backed up by CFYOW, which never once mentions a royal family. Likewise, in WDKALY, we learn that the events of TYBW have been dubbed "The Great Soul King Protection War," with the royal family never being mentioned. This will become important later.

This is from chapter 159. The second speech bubble is:

四楓院家の姫君だ

The key component of this is 姫君, hime-gimi, "princess", but also more literally "daughter of a person of high rank (esp. eldest daughter)". However... this doesn't mean what you would think it means from a direct English translation.

It's instructive at this point to turn to this article, Modes of Address for Japanese nobility. If we search for hime-gimi, we get:

A title useful for armigers is –gimi, which means, literally, Lord [Lady] —. Again, through an odd twist of linguistic fate, the same kanji is now read –kun, and is the condescending form used by superiors in offices to their inferiors, and by upperclassmen to their lessers in academe. One hundred years ago, it would have been Yorimasa-gimi, a term of respect, but now it is Yorimasa-kun, less respectful and a bit condescending. Women would be addressed formally by their last name (with –dono or –sama as appropriate); armigerous women would properly be addressed by their first name with an appended –hime. The word alone may be used to address titled women; e.g., “Hime, are you ready for court?” It was commonly used for any aristocratic lady. Alternately, women of rank could be addressed by their given names to which is appended the title gozen, another difficult to translate term but one which essentially means “honorable [person]-in-front-[of me].” ) Actually, gozen can be used for both men and women, but only in specific situations. For example, a priest may be called “gozen-sama.” One important note; even when talking about someone who is not present — especially in a formal or polite setting — one should always use the honorifics. Leaving them off is a slight, and shows lack of consideration and near complete disregard for the individual in question.

You have here an explanation for quite a wide variety of things, although I'll return to those in a moment. First, I want to direct your attention to the terminology chart located at the bottom of the article:

We know from our earlier observation that the so-called royal family simply does not exist and that the Soul King is a puppet, so we may safely ignore the King, Queen, Crown Prince, Crown Princess, Territorial Prince, and Territorial Princess ranks. And so we are left with the Ducal ranks, which is the first place we see Hime-gimi. While it's used for lesser ranks too, as this is the highest place we see it, we can safely ascribe it to the Five Great Noble Clans (and later Four Great Noble Clans).

Yoruichi is not a "princess" in rank, or only one of the Shihōin Clan. Yoruichi is a Duke, and probably such rather than a Duchess because she is the first woman to hold the rank for her clan. She also already holds the rank as of this time. This would suggest she is already Clan Head as of this scene, even though she is not the Gundanchō (Unit Commander) of the Punishment Force yet (it's spoken of in the future tense), and presumably not Sōshireikan (Supreme Commander) of the Onmitsukidō.

The best description of Yoruichi's office would be Duke of Shihōin, however her actual title is not Kugyō, a particular real Japanese institution, but is led in with the quotations in the remark before: Tenshiheisōban (天賜兵装番). Thus, contra the last time I talked about this term and contra Viz itself, the title does not apply to the Shihōin—it applies solely to Yoruichi. She is the Tenshiheisōban. The Feng family member is referring to her specifically, as is Soifon in chapter 154. (This title, incidentally, seems not so different in framing than the full term for the Shogun, 征夷大将軍, Sei-i Taishōgun, "Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force Against the Barbarians".)

(For more about this, see Tenshiheisōban is the Title of Only the Head of House Shihōin.)

As discussed in the last link, why Viz persistently insists upon including an extra note in dialogue of "the Defender of the Realm", which is not present in the original Japanese, remains somewhat unclear. However, it would make more sense to not directly translate the term if it was Yoruichi's official title, and to instead provide an approximate meaning rather than a direct translation. This is Viz's take on it. What it actually means is a separate issue. (A question that arises as to what is heaven sent: the armaments, the guardian, or both? It would seem to be the former, but is more likely actually the latter...)

Anyway, if you believe in the chart absolutely, using hime-gimi to reference her is wrong as it should only be used to address her, but perhaps some obscure rules are at work here. It would be proper to address her as "Yoruichi-dono", much as Tessai does, or like how Rukia calls Kaien by "Kaien-dono". The article notes that -dono and -sama have gone up and down over time as to which is more prestigious relative to one another, but at any rate this readily shows why Soifon calls her "Yoruichi-sama".

Speaking of that, in chapter 159, we get to see Soifon's original term of address: 軍団長閣下, gundanchō kakka, "your excellency the Unit Commander". This seems rather explicitly less related (though not inappropriate) to Yoruichi's rank in the nobility, but rather to her military rank. (I've noted before that the Feng are oddly obsessed with Yoruichi's status as Gundanchō rather than her more all-encompassing rank of Sōshireikan, as both the older Feng in the flashback uses it, as does Soifon upon fighting Yoruichi; they seemingly only care about the Punishment Force, not the Onmitsukidō as a whole.)

Yoruichi then notes that 閣下, "your excellency", is too formal, and directs Soifon to call her 夜一さん, "Yoruichi-san", instead. You can tell because these are in quotes. So Viz's use of "commander" is wrong and Yoruichi is actually somewhat more formal here than Viz portrays her as. (This suggests that Kisuke habitually calling her Yoruichi-san is either exactly what she wants, or he's teasing her by using a more formal register from back when more decorum was necessary.)

You might be wondering how we can assert that the Four Great Noble Clans are indeed the highest ranking nobility. Well, we can see in chapter 114 that Ganju describes Byakuya as:

当たり前だろ…朽木家つていや正一位称号を持つ四大貴族の一つ…！

Viz's translation is fundamentally correct, although in leaving Shōichī initially untranslated and then clarifying what it means, we can see that Viz doesn't care to immediately translate titles (affirming earlier remarks on the Tenshiheisōban).

This also means that the Bleach Wiki is yet again wrong in ascribing the title of Shōichī purely to the Kuchiki Clan—it applies to all the Four Great Noble Clans equally. (We learn in CFYOW that the Tsunayashiro seem to have a primus inter pares status among them, but this is seemingly sort of informal.)

In short, we can say that the Four Great Noble Clans represent Dukes, with a distinct status which may push them more toward pseudo-royalty (in the sense that Duchies or Dukedoms can be independent countries). Other nobles represent Marquess, Counts, Viscounts, and Barons, with the possibility of something like the German ranks of Ritter and Edler considering we know Shinigami can be promoted into the nobility.

The head of the Kasumiōji Clan, which is anime-only but is described as being just below the Four Great Noble Clans in prestige, would thus be a Marchioness (female Marquess). The head of the Kyōraku Clan would presumably be a Count. The head of the Ukitake Clan, which is described as lower nobility in Jūshirō's datasheet, would presumably be a Viscount or Baron.

This is from chapter -105. Byakuya's third speech bubble is:

そもそも朽木家次期当主たる私に遊びなどなどだ!

The key component of this is 当主, tōshu, "family/clan head". Theoretically Byakuya could be described as 朽木家の当主, Kuchiki-ke no tōshu, "clan head of the Kuchiki Clan", but I've been informed that this isn't properly a title that would be used to describe him.

Presumably, much like Yoruichi has a particular title in Tenshiheisōban, Byakuya would also have a particular title. (As would have Tokinada, and presumably Kaien.) Why we only appear to learn Yoruichi's in particular is a mystery.

It's worth noting that this "milady" here in chapter 118 is completely wrong. Byakuya says in the lower speech bubble:

兄はここから逃げることはできぬ

He uses 兄, ani, "older brother":

I have to imagine that this is an insult directed at Yoruichi since this is a purely masculine term. He's presumably making fun of her voice in cat form (which she used to torment him) and/or her use of a nominally masculine personal pronoun in washi.

While Yoruichi's reply seems to directly refute the implication of equality between them, I think Viz does a bad job here. Yoruichi pauses first, and her remarks are hard to get a good translation of. I think it might be some kind of Japanese idiom. I think the vibe of what she's saying is best rendered in English as something like, "Looks like little Byakuya has gotten too big for his britches," or perhaps, "Looks like little Byakuya has learned how to play with the big boys." In any event, she's definitely making fun of him right back.

There are probably some things I've missed, but I think the bolded sections provide a good overview of the relative rankings of the nobles in European terms.

CFYOW makes it fairly clear that the power of the Four Great Noble Clans was reduced by the expulsion of the Shiba Clan, to the benefit of Central 46, and Central 46 seems to be largely controlled by the relatively lesser nobility as a means of imposing restraints upon the Four Great Noble Clans.

I don't have an exact point of comparison, but by analogy you might say they sort of resemble the Minamoto, Taira, Fujiwara, and Tachibana Clans during the Heian Period, collectively sort of "substituting" for the (in Soul Society's case effectively vacant) imperial throne. (This is essentially what Aizen alludes to upon leaving Soul Society.) The Soul King is basically a fictional monarch in whose name they operate, but they have actually ruled all along. However their power is in turn checked by Central 46, which the ordinary nobles use to actually govern day-to-day affairs.

#Out Of Character #Long Post #Bleach #Meta

[smolvenger]

Time for Carrie's Birthday Celebration Starting 01/07 and going on until 01/12!

Helloooooo friends! My birthday is January 10th (turning 29), so I thought we could do a little thing! Let's do a *drumroll* BIRTHDAY CELERATION SLEEPOVERRRRR!

A fun little light hearted thing!

Tell me about or send me these emojis for...

something you’re looking forward to!! 👀

about what you’re reading/watching 📖

your pet(s) <3 🐶🐱🐰🐹

your go to shoes/jacket/accessories 👟

ANYTHING!! 🕸

songs (rn or all time) 🎵

comfort film, show, or read (+ favorite scene) 🧸

animal (+ when’s the last time you saw one) 🐢

bad joke or reference (+ if you say it often) 🙊

FMK! 🍑🔪make me pick and I'l do the same for you

would you rather?

never have i ever… 🖐

MASH 🏡

confessions: 💭

Or ship me with someone or a character (if it ever gets to our boy, Loki, pick a specific era) and I'll ship one with YOU

I am also opening BLURBS based on several of these blorbos so give me a character or person and I will write a blurb based off of Fanfic/Book Tropes!

Characters I am willing to write for:

Loki (ofc)

President Loki

Jonathan Pine

Robert Laing

James Conrad

Prince Hal/Henry V

Sir Thomas Sharpe

Caius Martius Coriolanus

William Buxton

Professor! Tom Hiddleston

So pick one and one of the following BookTok/Fanfic tropes:

"Who did this to you?"

"My wife"

"Touch her and you die"

AU: Modern, Tudor, Regency/Austen/Bridgerton, anything

Arranged Marriage

Enemies to Lovers

Friends to Lovers

He falls first

First Date

Proposal

Wedding

First Baby

Love Confession

Meet Cute

Forced Proximity

And There Was One Bed!

Grumpy x Sunshine

With any of these, if you want, you CAN request the blurb be on the spicy side and I will oblige, heheheh

I don't know what my birthday will bring and I don't want to feel lonely or the pain of not accomplishing enough and getting older so let's make this a fun one!

@asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @loz-3 @liminalpebble

Masterlist for my works can be found here.

#sas assemble #birthday sleepover #birthdays on tumblr

[riridontneedya]

Emerald . (D.M ONESHOT)

Summary: The truth is this was a random one shot idea I had over the Christmas and after about 3 gin and tonics I had a crack at writing it so tada here it is ! I've glossed over it corrected grammar etc but I tried to keep it in its original tipsy state lol.

Actual summary: Female reader finds herself left alone at house party with her enemies older brother.

An 'Enemies' brother one shot . So think best friends brother style troupe but instead you're not best friends you aren't particularly fond of one another.

Pairing: Draco x female reader

Warnings: ANGST , Mature themes ,Mature Language , BRIEF SEXUAL EXPLICIT SCENE . Read at your own discretion.

Words: 1505

A/ns: Enjoy angels ! if its put you in the mood for more have a look at my other work HERE . Requests open & constructive feedback welcomed :) xx

Something was off an y/n should’ve known better . It was eerily quiet as she made her way to her dorm. By this time the corridors would’ve been bustling with handfuls of students. Especially during exam season , you could find them all hunched over books in corners or frantically scribbling in notebooks .. but today nothing . Maybe the exam pressure has gotten far too much for them and their either hiding out in the library or dorms cramming as much as possible she thought to herself. Either way y/n was enjoying the newfound peace , but that was short-lived as she entered the common room. Y/n was almost hurtled backwards by the blast of music that was emitted as she opened the door.

The room itself was dark but the vibrant bursts of colour from the strobe lights illuminated the outlines of the sea of students.  It was only yesterday y/n specifically remembered pleading with her roommate Tina for peace and quiet , and that her mere existence was not a viable excuse for a party .But alas the large and in charge buxom blonde was very much used to getting her own way.  Y/n was determined to elbow her way through the pit of bodies and give Tina a piece of her mind. That was before she stumbled in the darkness and came crashing to the floor.  Y/n was now seething. The infuriation coupled with the pain in her leg from hurtling to the floor made her want nothing more than to just get to her room. She stormed up the stairs making a beeline to her bathroom ensuring to slam her door shut behind her. Leaning by the sink she took a moment to compose herself splashing her face with some cool water letting it subside her rage.

Just then the door swung open and in strode a disgruntled looking Draco. He was rather startled once he turned around to notice the equally startled y/n leant by the sink. “Oh .. I'm sorry I didn’t realise anyone would be up here its  absolutely heaving down there , I just wanted five minutes to myself”. He said as he fiddled with the paper on his beer bottle. “Umm Thats fine..” said y/n with a half smile. There was a prolonged silence. Even if Y/n had wanted to break said silence she wouldn’t even have a clue how to begin to do so. This was her first real one on one interaction with him aside from the exchange of the usual pleasantries or the occasional muttered “Hello” of polite acknowledgement if they happened to pass one another in the hallways. 

Any merger shreds of information she did know of him was courtesy of his sister, and y/n knew much better than to relay that sort of information . “Your leg” Draco murmured as he took a swig of his beer.  Y/n swiftly looked down at the gaping hole in her tights situated on her thigh. She had noticed that it had begun to bleed. “Oh crap” instinctively she went to reach for some toilet paper, however her path was obstructed by Dracos broad turtleneck ladened chest. “Could you grab me some loo roll please” she asked politely. He took one more swig from his beer before resting it on the countertop. He plucked  the roll from off the dispenser and handed it to her. His pale blue eyes boring into her with a wild intensity whilst he watched her dab at her wound. 

He grew impatient watching her feeble dabbing attempts. “You won’t stop it like that” . Y/n paused as her eyes met his . “Here let me” he demanded making his way towards her. Y/n felt a fizzing sensation  at the base of her stomach that began to disperse through her body as he closed the space between them. “Take them off” he instructed coolly. Y/n felt her eyes bulge upon hearing his request “Sorry .. what ?” She croaked. Draco remained unfazed “You heard me .. I said take them off .. your tights y/n do you want my help or not?”. In fairness it wasn’t an abhorrently bizarre request  but it was who was requesting it that had her on edge. She could feel the fizzing sensation being to intensify as he carefully watched her disrobe her lower half.  Without warning he had lifted her and perched her onto the countertop.

The cool of his rings clasping against her warm skin made her shudder . “Did I hurt you?” he questioned his hand gently rubbing in a circular motion on her outer thigh. “No , your hand was cold thats all” she smiled. “Ok.. thats good .. I want to make sure you're comfortable.. you’d tell me if you weren’t right?” “Of course” y/n replied in an instant. “ Good girl” he said followed by an effortless wink . Y/n never noticed he had this sort of potent allure,  it were as if he was the flame and she the moth . Unable to deviate her gaze she watched on as he applied pressure to her cut despite usually being quite squeamish . 

His eyes shot up and caught y/ns. She froze locked into his  stare. “Fuck it” he blurted pulling y/n towards him and crashing his lips into hers. The kiss was loaded with an intense passion. Y/ns arms sloped around his neck pulling him closer into her as his hands ventured up her bare thighs. “Do you want my fingers?” He rasped as he withdrew from her lips. Y/n nodded with urgency. “Good, now spread your legs wider”. He began to skilfully tease her entrance, his fingers becoming slicker and slicker with her arousal  making it  easier to glide into . Y/n couldn’t help but cry out when he slowly eased them inside her . Flinging her head back she began to moan as the arousal washed over her. 

The door of y/ns bedroom opened and closed . The footsteps stopped just shy of the door, and out rang Tinas voice. “Hey babe, Greg told me you had a bit of he fall but you came up here .. not crying are you”. “Fuck” mouthed y/n, Draco dramatically rolled his eyes. His fingers still remained pulsating inside her. “Just tell her to fuck off” he groaned quietly kissing the length of her neck. “Im fine .. you can go now” y/n called out to Tina. Tina began to go one of her usual tangents that attempted to serve as a justification for her continuous impulsive and inconsiderate behaviour.  Luckily y/n was rather occupied with the task of stifling her groans into Dracos shoulder so she wasn’t burdened with hearing much of  it.

Y/n hoped that silence on her end would serve as a message and she would soon leave however Tina remained rather persistent tonight. “Look,  I get it.. like is said sorry.. I guess we can talk about this tomorrow if you prefer.” Thank heavens she caught onto the message thought y/n . There’s was only so much longer she could hold her composure against the now brutal pummelling of his fingers . “Wait .. y/n before I go.. did you see Dray .. someone said they saw him head up here? Ive been meaning to talk to him” 

Draco peeled his head from over her shoulder. With his face illuminated he pushed his lips against y/ns ear and groaned “Go on .. I dare you to tell her I'm fingers deep inside you ..tell her how much you're loving being finger fucked by her brother of all people. His chuckle was hearty. He had the power and he very much liked it like that . Dracos arm scooped around her hauling her closer to the edge of the bathroom countertop.

This Granted  him more access ,  allowing him to thrust much deeper as well as coax another finger inside her. Y/n couldn’t help but let out a  shriek as immense pleasure jolted through her body  Dracos ear to ear grin resembled that of a Cheshire Cat “Oh my gosh y/n ! what the hell is going on in there .. I'm coming in” . “NO! , just fuck off and  leave me alone how many times ! Roared y/n.  Tinas slew of expletives came thick and fast from the other side of the bathroom door. It was apparent she was displeased with  the response she was met with.It was nowhere near as palatable as y/n’s usual begrudging acceptance of her insincere sorries .

Once the screeching had come to an end there was the loud thud of the bedroom door shutting. Y/n hopped of the counter shoving Draco aside. “You arse” she tutted prodding him in the shoulder.  “Great now she’s probably going to fucking hex me I've got to go find her now”. With a mischievous grin he took her hand and rested it against his spectacular firm bulge. “You're not going anywhere  .. I will deal with her, you just be naked by the time I'm back. 

#draco x reader #creative writing #draco malfoy smut #draco angst #draco fic #draco fanfiction #draco x yn #enemies to lovers #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #like #reblog #writblr #draco x harry #harry potter series #party #oneshot #draco fluff #dracoimagine #draco x reader smut #drabble #wip #multifandom rp

[compacflt]

hey! i was just going through your blog, and i saw a post about ice&carole and mav&goose. i looked a bit more but i couldn't find a post about your take on mav and goose's relationship, so i wanted to ask what it was. if you have answered this, i'm sorry about asking you again. imo i think what they had was wayy deeper than friendship but complex and probably not romantic, but again, i just wanted to know your thoughts on it.

thank you! and this blog has probably been one of the best finds i have ever come across on tumblr, i'll be sad to see you go.

yeah, i was really trying to be suave and subtle and mysterious about it with this parallel

like, you should be able to figure it out for yourself.

but luckily for you i looooove beating dead horses. to a problematic degree.

the full story of my vision of mavgoose (moose?) is in the completed draft of the extras that are coming out on Saturday. about halfway through. But i want to bring it back to the internal craft-of-writing debate i brought up yesterday—my inability to summarize, or to cut superfluous sections that don’t really matter.

I’ll stick it under the cut for spoiler reasons, but i wanna show the simple first draft of this scene versus the complicated, heavier final draft. And I want to ask any of you, if you’re interested—as a reader, which is more impactful? which should i end up publishing?

the simple first draft:

then i kept turning it in my head thinking of different ways to edit it to say something slightly different, to get a little more specific, coming up with things to add, and ended up adding like five extra paragraphs. which is this:

about 1/4 of the final draft (by which i mean, this is about 1/4 of the whole final discussion scene, but the goosemav-specific content only goes on for about another graf [omitted bc spoilers]):

(so to answer your ask explicitly, i actually don’t think they were anything deeper than good friends. imo there’s no evidence that they were anything deeper than good friends, especially with maverick blowing goose/goose’s wishes off soooo many times [‘she’s lost that lovin feelin;’ volleyball; refusing to do the responsible thing at least twice even after goose tells him it puts his & his family’s livelihoods at risk…bro all he does is blow off goose]. see me bitching in the tags for more on this)

obviously in my head the complicated in-depth version ⬆️ is the True version, the version of events that really Happened. i think the writing is in some spots much more compelling. But it just doesn’t make for a particularly good reading experience when it’s surrounded by like 3/4 pages of other discussion of history! sometimes too much of (what i think is) a good thing turns that good thing bad! & this is a major keystone dynamic of my whole series so i just want to get it right, for my own peace of mind. I guess im asking you to be the harsh editor i wish i had sometimes, if ur interested in doing so—this is genuinely a major major problem i have with my writing, i can’t ever just leave well enough alone 😭 please let me know if simpler is better/less is more in this case! do i publish the short vague “the reader fills in the blanks” version or the long boring “here’s EXACTLY how i see it” version?

#crowd sourcing beta readers. let me know. #also. #how many times do i have to say maverick is neither a good person nor a good friend #and the writers of TGM hugely whitewashed and dulled down the original sharpness and thoughtlessness of his character #for the sake of post-50s tom cruise mary-sueifying him #before it sticks? #if it helps you can write out a list of his actions in the original movie. #for instance: > blows off goose to be late to dinner with Charlie anyway #> follows her into the women’s restroom > continues a pattern of dangerous behavior even after #Goose his supposed best friend tells him multiple times it is threatening their jobs #the truck master scene… the locker room scene… the ‘can’t afford to blow this scene’ #and then he does it a FOURTH TIME AND KILLS GOOSE HELLO!!!!! #so much for being a good friend like c’mon!!! #if he REALLY respected goose he would have SHOWN HIS RESPECT FOR GOOSE!!! #i am leaving this blog so out come the hot takes! #movies are also woobifying tom cruise lately! how’s that for a hot take #i genuinely felt insulted by TGM’s sexless passionless soft bokeh-light KIND OF half-sex with Penny. that was insulting. #what happened to the savage bitter kid in 1986 top gun? why is he so soft and toothless? #the only time we see him is in the ‘it’s not the plane it’s the pilot’ ‘EXACTLY’ exchange. THATS maverick. #sorry you know me. TGM is not my favorite. i am extremely cynical about it. #i love the IP but the writing choices in the 2nd movie wrt mav especially make me…. 😵‍💫😵‍💫 #pete maverick mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #mavgoose #you can ignore me bitching but pls don’t ignore my begging for secondary opinions here

[rockitmans]

Hello, I really enjoy your writing and you seem confident in writing smut. Do you have any tips on how to go about it? I find is so awkward!

Hey thank you 😊 I am just a guy with a laptop but I can try my best to tell you some stuff that helps me.

First of all! My number one tip that everyone should follow IS that you really don't have to write smut if you don't want to. Probably obvious, but there's very few fics that actually require detailed smut and if it makes you uncomfy it may not be worth it. BUT I'm sure you know that already and are here for some actual advice so here we go.

Gonna get a tiny bit nsfw but not graphically. All this is advice only, nothing is ever a hard and fast rule, especially in writing. Take what you like and chuck out the rest. Other writers feel free to add on 💖

What's the point of the smut?

Personally I think smut is always better if it is conveying something about the characters or the story. If the point of it is just to be pwp that is absolutely fine ofc but if it's within a larger story what are you trying to convey? Desire for each other that's finally bubbled over? Connection and trust? Playfulness and fun?

Whatever the angle, try and keep that motivation in your mind. If the sex is about connection, focus on the internal feelings, lots of affectionate words between them, a lot of eye contact etc. If it's about that "I must have you now" passion, maybe it's quicker, choppier, more desperate and less talking.

Smut doesn't have to be hot to be good and valid in the story. Maybe it's sometimes deliberately bad sex. Maybe sometimes it's soft and sweet rather than steamy. Don't get too stressed trying to make it titillating (if I may use that word).

Character first

Following on from that. Think about your characters, especially in the context of the AU you've put them in if that's the case. Who would instigate? Who would take charge? If someone is very playful and jokey out of the bedroom, they'll probably take that energy into it. If they're serious and passionate, likewise.

I'm sure as a writer you've often thought that the characters sometimes just do their own thing without your input because you're in their head so much. Let that energy guide you through sex scenes as well. (I very accidentally set myself up for wall sex in one of my fics once because the characters would not shut up about it.)

Write about what you like

Especially for your first few attempts, write about stuff you enjoy. Whether that be in real life, fantasy or you just have an academic interest in. I've been called out multiple times for liking subby Blaine 😂 And yes! I do! I find it fun to write so that's why I write it.

Think about what specifically you enjoy about your scenario and express that on page. This should in turn lead to an enjoyable reading experience! If you're not sure what you like, read some smut and think about what parts of it appeal to you. Avoid writing kinks that squick you out.

It's about the fantasy

I wouldn't get too bogged down in mechanics. Especially of anal sex. Fanfiction is sort of fantasy and doesn't need to be incredibly realistic to be fun. By all means make sure you're conveying a sense of how your characters are positioned and how they are interacting but don't get into the weeds of minutiae if you don't need to. It's not a how-to guide and being too mechanical can remove the spice.

Invoke the five senses

General writing advice is to get all senses involved but it's just as important for smut. A few examples.

Sight: how their partner looks, their body, especially if it's your POV character's first time seeing them naked AND how that makes them feel. Lighting is a good visual way of setting the mood. Soft, romantic lighting for their first time? Candles for romance. Just in broad daylight in the middle of the kitchen for spontaneity.

Sound: Gasping, sighing, moaning, their partners voice. Are they talking? Laughing? Why? Are things going wrong or are they just giddy and excited? Is there people nearby that they can hear that adds to the thrill? Do they play music?

Smell: smells on the other person they've never noticed because they've never been that close before. I tend to avoid talking about unpleasant smells because it kind of takes you out of the moment. But washing powder, cologne, shampoo, all that stuff is golden.

Taste: I'm sure you can use your imagination on this one! The taste of their partners mouths when kissing, the taste of salt on their skin, the taste of them intimately

Touch: This one is so key! Are touches deliberate or incidental? Gentle or rough? What emotion does a certain touch invoke? Capturing sensation and mood can be more effective than pure description sometimes. And the touch doesn't just have to come from each other. What about the feel of the sheets? Toys? Are they having sex on a surface that is hard or rough?

Write scared

Posting smut is intimidating and a lil scary, especially the first time but probably several times after that as well. As the well known saying goes: Feel the fear and do it anyway. We all start somewhere and we are all constantly improving. If you are very brave you can ask for con crit but otherwise it's just a skill to hone like any other. I believe in you!

#sorry this got long #hope theres something there you can use! #asks #writing tips #i suppose #although i don't feel qualified

[morallyinept]

A full transcribe of JAVIER PEÑA'S dialogue/lines from the TV show NARCOS.

S2/E2 - CAMBALACHE

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

Well, I suggested that he stay home. You mentioned making some changes. What exactly does that mean?

Murphy’s a good agent. He’s done a lot of good work down here. 

Sounds to me like the guy would’ve had a dog sniffing up his ass before he got on the plane. Maybe Steve did him a favour. 

Ma’am-

We’ve been down here a long time. You’ve been down here all of what, two hours? 

It may not make the front page, but… a lot of the intel we have is because of Steve. He’s a good man. He’s going through some shit right now. You know, he was at the airport to stop his wife from leaving the country with their kid. He didn’t make it. Add that to watching Escobar build a five-star prison and then walking out the back door. We both deserve to see this through… boss. 

__________________

Have you, uh… had anything to eat in the last 24 hours?

Only what I’ve heard. She’s out of New York. Doesn’t put up with any shit. 

I don’t know. 

Take a shower. Sober up. Talk to you. 

__________________

One more fuck up, Murphy…

Is it gonna happen again?

__________________

Yeah.

__________________

Fuck me. 

__________________

Get ready to get your balls snipped. 

__________________

We can’t take that to Pinzón. He’ll laugh us out of the office. 

(In Spanish) We need more. 

(In Spanish) Where did they see him?

Maybe we can get Centra Spike to do a flyover, see what they come up with. 

I’ll be right back. 

__________________

It’s a long story. 

Look, just do me a favour and ask them to sweep over that specific area. We’re looking for any chatter from Escobar’s sicarios. Anything at all. You recognize a voice, you come get me. 

__________________

You can probably eliminate the smaller ones, not Escobar’s style. 

This one here. It’s rough terrain down the back of the mountain, but it’s drivable. 

Great. What about Pinzón? We’re gonna need vehicles, we’re gonna need men.

__________________

What did he say?

__________________

He was here. 

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #javier pena narcos #javier pena dialogue #pedro pascal character dialogue