#a lot of the time what I want feels so out of reach it’s laughable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aikrus · 21 days ago

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darling, can i be your favorite ?

Explicit Content yandere?

There’s a lot that comes with dating shouta aizawa, and a lot of the learning curve was trial and error. When you learned he was like you, not the same, but like you, it was as if the world clicked. It all made sense, because everything that had happened thus far had lead you to that moment- to when you met him for the first time.

Then you learned he would get distracted- his other things calling to him- and you understood. There was a stray dog you met that you fed once and it always seemed to call out to you since, but the thought of walking down some street when you could be here drowning in Shouta was laughable.

It wasn't the same for him. The thought of riding the metro, walking to work, crossing highschool hallways and spending hours with a few hundred people, it was appealing enough to draw him away from you. All the time.

The thought had lead you out of the apartment, a few blocks over, and to some vacant lot where the stray mut laid wagging its tail upon seeing you.

You wished Shouta was with you in your home. It was the only thing you felt.

So, just like the mutt, you'd have to train Shouta to respond to you the way you wished. Hopefully his learning curve will take less than the dogs.

The apartment was too quiet without him. Every ticking second without Shouta felt like a reminder that she wasn’t his priority—that his work, his students, his endless responsibilities always came first. It gnawed at her, the knowledge that she wasn't the most important thing in his life, despite how deeply she wanted to be.

She was his. Entirely. Completely.

But what was she to him?

The answer gnawed at her every time he left their shared space, the click of the door too final as he slipped away to teach, to train, to protect. Tonight was no different. Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she waited for the sound of him returning. The jealousy churned in her chest, burning hotter with each moment that passed.

When she finally heard the door creak open, she stood in the dim light of their bedroom, waiting. Shouta entered with his usual tired sigh, his figure casting a long shadow across the room. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, landed on her.

“Long day?” she asked, her voice a little too even, a little too controlled.

He hummed in response, already shedding his capture weapon and boots, not noticing the way her body was tense, on edge. Not yet.

“I missed you,” she continued, moving closer, each step deliberate.

Shouta’s gaze flickered to her then, sharp and assessing. He could always tell when something was simmering beneath the surface, but tonight, it was different. Her need for him felt like a wound that wouldn’t close. It throbbed with every breath.

His voice was low when he spoke, “I know.”

But that wasn’t enough. She needed more than just acknowledgment. She needed to be seen, to be wanted as fiercely as she wanted him. The heat in her chest rose, fueled by the jealousy she had kept bottled for too long.

She reached for his tie, fingers brushing against his throat as she loosened it slowly, pulling him closer. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t stop her.

“I want you,” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “I need you.”

He was still for a moment, as if gauging her intent. His voice dropped, a familiar command threading through it, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

But she didn’t answer with words. Instead, she pressed herself against him, her body warm and soft against his. Her fingers trailed down his chest, lower, unbuttoning his shirt with purpose. She could feel the shift in him, the way his breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed under her touch.

His control was slipping, just as she had planned.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, his hands finding her hips, holding her in place.

“I need you to remember that I’m yours,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her need, her jealousy spilling out. “I need you to see me, Shouta.”

His grip tightened, pulling her closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “You think I don’t see you? That I forget?” His voice was dangerous now, laced with that intoxicating dominance that sent shivers down her spine. “You don’t need to play games like this to get my attention, darling.”

But she wanted to, needed to. She craved the way he responded to her touch, the way he looked at her when she pushed him to the edge. Her fingers slid under the waistband of his pants, tugging slightly, a challenge in her eyes. “Show me, then.”

And that was all it took. The air shifted, thick with tension as Shouta’s control snapped. He grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from his body as he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall with an intensity that made her heart race.

He growled, his breath hot against her neck as his hands pinned her wrists above her head.

Her body trembled under his touch, her mind swimming with the thrill of it all. This was what she wanted—this raw, unfiltered need. The power he held over her, the way he controlled her, dominated her. But even in this, there was trust. She trusted him with everything she had, and he knew it.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t need more encouragement. His lips crashed against hers, fierce and demanding, as if he were trying to convey everything he couldn’t say with words. His hands roamed her body, possessive, claiming every inch of her as his own.

The tension between them built, a fire that threatened to consume them both. And in the heat of their passion, she knew she had succeeded. She had his full attention, and he wasn’t going to let her forget it.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her lips, his voice low and dangerous. “Every part of you. And don’t ever forget it.”

Her body ached for him, every touch sending waves of pleasure through her. The dynamic between them was perfect—his control, her submission, the trust that bound them together. She didn’t need to be jealous anymore. Not when he was looking at her like this, as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Her heart raced beneath his hands, every breath she took filled with the electric tension that hummed between them. Shouta's presence loomed over her, his grip firm and unyielding. The weight of his body pressed her harder against the wall, as if he wanted to remind her, forcefully, that there was no one else in his world right now—no students, no hero duties. Just her.

But it still wasn’t enough.

She needed more than his body, more than the rough way he took her lips with his. She needed to be everything to him. To feel like she was his sole focus in the same way he had become hers. Every waking moment, every heartbeat, she ached to be the center of his world, the thing he lived for.

“I want to be the only thing you think about,” she gasped against his mouth, her wrists still pinned above her head. “When you leave... when you're with them... I want you to want me like I want you.”

Shouta froze for a moment, his breath harsh against her cheek, her words sinking in deeper than any touch could. His grip tightened, but it wasn't just out of dominance now—it was a need. His need for her, just as desperate as hers for him. She could feel it in the way his chest heaved, the tension coiling in his muscles, barely held back by the thin thread of control he always wore like armor.

“You think I don’t?” His voice was rough, each word carrying the weight of his frustration. “You think I don’t spend every moment counting down the seconds until I can be with you?”

He lowered his head, his forehead resting against hers as he let out a slow, shaky breath. “You have no idea what you are to me.”

Her body trembled at his words, her heart clenching painfully. She wanted to believe him, but the jealousy still lingered, eating away at her. “I’m not enough. You—” she hesitated, her voice breaking, “You have your students, your work. You belong to the world... and I’m just here, waiting for the moments you give me.”

A small sound, almost like a growl, rumbled in his chest, and in an instant, his lips were on hers again, fierce and unrelenting. His hands, rough from years of combat, roamed down her body, exploring her as if he needed to remind her that every inch of her was his. He released her wrists, and before she could react, his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed in a few quick, determined steps.

She landed with a soft gasp, her body sinking into the mattress as he hovered above her, eyes dark with something between desire and anger. His knees pressed into the bed on either side of her hips, trapping her there, as his hands came down to cage her in.

"You think you’re just something I come home to?" Shouta's voice was low, dangerous. "Do you think I wouldn’t give all of that up for you if you asked me to?"

Her breath caught in her throat. The intensity in his gaze shook her to her core.

“Shouta…”

His fingers found the hem of her shirt, pulling it up slowly, torturously, over her head. His hands lingered, gliding down her sides, as if committing her form to memory. There was reverence in his touch, a gentleness that contradicted the raw need burning in his eyes.

“You’re not just some part of my life,” he said, his voice softening, though the rough edge remained. “You are my life. Do you understand that?”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears, her voice barely a whisper. “But you never say it. I need to hear it. I need to know.”

He stilled above her, his gaze softening for the first time that night. His hand came up to her face, cupping her cheek as his thumb brushed away a stray tear. “You want to be everything to me? You already are. You’re the only thing that matters to me—more than anything, anyone else.” His voice lowered to a whisper, intimate and raw. “I love my students. I care about what I do. But if you ever asked me to walk away from it all… I would. In a heartbeat.”

Her heart ached, every word sinking into the raw parts of her soul she had been so desperate to soothe. She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, but there was none. Just that unwavering, steadfast devotion that had always been there, even when she hadn’t seen it.

“But you never—” she started, her voice cracking.

“I don’t say it enough,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss her forehead, his lips soft against her skin. “But you need to understand something. No one, nothing, comes before you. You have me—completely.”

Her body trembled beneath him as his words sank in, her need for him spilling over into something more intense, more desperate. She tugged at his shirt, fingers shaking as she struggled to pull it off. He helped her, throwing it aside before capturing her lips again, his hands everywhere—on her hips, her thighs, pulling her closer, closer, until it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began.

His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake, his hands gripping her thighs as he settled between them. Every touch, every kiss, was filled with a promise. His need to reassure her, to give her everything she craved, matched her desperation to feel it.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her skin, his voice dark and possessive as his hands claimed her, each touch filled with the raw power of his love. “And I’m yours. Nothing will ever change that.”

Her body arched into his, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. “Then show me, Shouta. Show me how much I mean to you.”

And he did.

Grabbing her leg and lifting it, Shouta began to rub his cock head along your folds. "I love you," he said as he teased the clit with circular movements varying in pressure. Snaking his other hand across your torso he used his fingers to part the folds, giving clear way to him and letting his palm scratch against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I love you." He pushed the tip in and felt you squeeze around it, stopping less than and inch in before pulling out and repeating again. His mouth wrapped around your nipple as he began to suck- hot and wet with a heavy tongue.

"I love you," a thin trail of saliva connected the bright pink peak to his lips as he moved further inch by inch, shuddering and brushing the hair from your face.

He bottomed out, grabbing both of your hips and pulling you taunt- the pressure inside of you had never been this grand, this all-consuming. "I love you."

His movements were slow at first, deliberate, every kiss and touch laced with the promise of everything he was giving her. But soon the tension broke, his control slipping, and his hips begging to piston back and forth.

"I love you," he gasped, his lips darting to press wide kisses down your neck before suddenly closing around the muchle of the base and biting- sucking the skin into his mouth where his tongue rapidly massaged it.

His hands, his lips, his body—every part of him spoke the words she had longed to hear, that she was everything to him.

Their connection was more than physical—it was emotional, raw, and unbreakable. With every shuddering breath, with every gasp, she felt it. The intensity of his love, the depth of his devotion. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment—it was the bond they had built, the trust they had nurtured, the way he saw her as his equal, his partner, his everything.

"Gnn, fuck," Shouta rolled the two of you over, now laying on his back, and he used his arm strength to rapidly lift you up and let you fall on his impaling dick.

"Sh-shouta," your voice wobbled with the movement as your hands found your own breasts, trying to stabilize them from the constant falling.

He growled at the sight and used his thumb to work your clit, fast and rough with callous he strung you like a violin.

"Gonna," you tried to speak but felt your tongue lulll past your lips.

"Gonna what?" He teased, huffing a laugh before his face returned to its concentrated desperate expression.

The heat only pilled, tension only raised, until it felt like you would die if this went a moment longer. That's when you fell apart.

"Shouta!" Collapsing onto him your pulsing pressure sent him on his own spiral- pumping hot inside of you as his breath moved you up and down once more in a more soothing, less exciting way.

When they finally collapsed together, spent and breathless, he wrapped his arms around her, his lips brushing against her temple.

“Never doubt me again,” he whispered. “You are my favorite thing in this world.”

And for the first time in a long time, she believed it.

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year ago

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Rejected soulmate au but I made it worse instead of better

Danny, instead of just leaving, instead snaps and commits a series of murders as Phantom, rampaging across the city. His first victims were his parents who he mauled to death, then Vlad, then his so called "friends". Once he came out of the green rage induced fog he realized what he had done and sobbed somewhere in the woods around Amity.

He knew that the GIW would arrive soon, and well, he's already in this deep and he can't just let a government agency that hell bent on genocide and conquering/expirementing on the entities of an entire dimension do as they please so he takes his hanger out on them as he's always wanted.

Hes so glad Jazz is away for collage. She's safe from them. Safe from him.

Its a wonder Clockwork didn't try to talk to him. He probably knew it wouldn't do any good, and Danny is technically of the living and Clockwork isn't allowed to harm the living or control them, only influence them into taking different paths. Hence why he did the time freeze/rewind fiasco when Danny attacked him at the clock tower when he was 14. He wasn't allowed to actually fight him and honestly at that point Clockwork didn't need to. But now Danny had that time medallion in his chest courtesy of his alternate evil future self and Clockwork couldn't do anything.

Danny was 16 and far too powerful for the master of time to take on.

Danny demolishes the GIW like he was playing Doomed on the easiest setting. It was laughable how quickly they went down and Danny found himself enjoying it.

He always had to tamp down that feeling. That vicious glee he got whenever he took vengeance on someone who wronged him. It had always been a thought in the back of his mind that he may have been inherently evil at heart and that he would turn to the dark side eventually.

He wouldn't be like the fusion of himself and Vlad though. That was just a mildless monster destroying everything in its path. What was even the point of that? For all the darkness in his heart, he couldn't see that as anything other that sheer stupidity. He assumed it was Vlads half. The only thing the creep was ever good at was dragging everyone around him down.

Danny packs up and activates the Fenton houses Baba Yaga Protocal, causing his childhood home to grow legs and literally walk away. He eventually managed to find all of Vlads secret labs and treasure stashes, raiding all of them and stripping them of everything they had to offer.

Then he went to find his soulmates dimension in the comfort and convenience of a newer and crazier version of howls moving castle. He had no plans on harming them per say, but he wanted to know why. Why reject a soulmate you hadn't even met before? A person who either platonically or romantically is your perfect match and can understand you better than anyone.

Danny himself suffered immensely throughout his childhood. His parents mental and emotion manipulation and neglect had left Danny longing for thier praise and attention but also left him feeling hollow and confused. Being the children of Evil mad scientists made it difficult to be friends with anyone. Even if the kids weren't weirded out by them, the parents of those kids would tell them that they weren't allowed to play with him or Jazz in fear for thier safety.

Rumors about the Fenton parents experimenting on thier children eventually reached thier ears. That was when he realized that other parents didn't give them twice daily injections of ectoplasm into thier bloodstream.

Im lazy but heres more:

1. Danny as a kid 9-12 realized that Sam and Tucker were crappy friends. Sam often tried to chase away any other girls that tried to talk to Danny for any reason (she was getting better) and often was controlling or patronizing to him while using her parents wealth to get what she wanted. Whether she realized it or not, she was actually a lot like them.

Tucker, Danny decided, secretly hated him and had straight up admitted before that he only became friends with Danny to steal the cool tech from his parents lab, which Danny had allowed and risked getting hurt by his parents to make his friend happy. Tucker was always jealous of Danny, stating that Tuckers own life was plain and boring while Dannys was like the protagonist of an anime. Tucker was quiet about it, but Danny saw how much the other boy enjoyed seeing him fail.

He tried to hang out with his big sister more, cause she could understand and she loved him, right? He was standing outside her door again with his favorite ball (it had the constellation Pegasus on it!) and raised his hand to knock on her door when he heard her groan loudly.

He knew he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop but he put his ear to the door anyway. Curiosity had always been his greatest weakness. On the other side she was talking on the phone. To who he had no idea cause Jazz didn't have friends, but she was complaining about mom and dad and...him. she told her phone friend that she loved him, but only out of obligation. She was his sister and she had to care about him, even if she didn't want to.

Danny didn't understand. She had just said she loved him so why did his heart hurt so much?

He went back to playing with Sam and Tucker. They were what he had, even if he didn't like them, he could lie to himself and tell himself that he did. Just like with mommy and daddy.

If he keeps telling himself that he loves them than he will. If he keeps telling himself that they love him then they will.

Dannys always been good at lying to himself.

Still, the soulmark on his arm remained. It was a vague promise of a light at the end of the tunnel. A dream that someone would show him what real love was like and they would sweep him off his feet and take him far far away from this place.

So why...

2. Phantom doesn't make a name for himself in this new dimension right away. Yeah he had all this treasure he stole from Vlad but treasure isn't money and he had no idea if money from his dimension would even be valid what with all the protections the us had on thier bills to make it difficult for people to make fakes.

Selling gold bars and the like was easier said than done, especially if you actually wanted a fair price for it, and he'd rather have a hoard stashed away for his later plans to more easily take shape.

3. Phantom was an excellent thief, even without his powers, but hes in too early to be arrogant and this world was filled with super-powered villians and heros alike, all trying to make a name for themselves.

He refused to be anyones stepping stool to something greater. Not anymore.

Danny was as cunning as he was skilled. He disguised himself in seedy bars, talking up whatever heist he had made recently, saying whatever thief had pulled that off must have been the greatest, sometimes he ever went dressed as a swooning girl for the extra oomph.

It usually worked and some meat head would take credit for his crimes. Word would sometimes conveniently make its way to the cops and if Danny was really lucky the poor sucker would actually go down for his crimes.

All to muddy the waters. Its harder to connect all these crimes to him when half of them have convictions and the other half have nothing linking them together <3

4. Danny needed minions but he didn't want to tell them anything. He wasn't in the position to start recruiting younger supervillians into his army yet. That was much later in the plan.

No, he needed a mercenary. One who didn't ask questions.

Mr. Deathstroke came with great recommendations and had a great track record for getting whatever contract he had completed and he had a vendetta of some sort against the Teen Titans and Young Justice.

Yeah, he was a bit fruitloopy but he seemed perfect for the job he had in mind.

Danny would keep Deathstroke at a distance of course. He was a mercenary, a hired gun, not his friend. Some one else could easily hire him to get information about Phantom or worse, hire him to attack or capture Phantom.

No the only thing tall, dark and scary was getting from him was the money owed to him in the contract. Money he now had plenty of.

5. Danny never really considered that he would have to compete with other thieves.

He had made sure to steer clear of places like Gotham and Metropolis because of the heros there who always stopped thieves and revealed their identities. Danny didn't need that, no thank you.

But as he was doing one of his heists, the third one this month and the one he planned on sticking the blame onto another poor sap-freaking Catwoman ran into the room with a sphinx carved of some precious stone and Batman not far behind.

Batman locked eyes with him for only a moment, cowl meeting domino for a split second, and Phantom knew he had been found out. This wasn't Gotham. He had no idea how they had gotten here or when but Danny wasn't naive enough to think the worlds greatest detective wouldn't be on his tail after he saw Phantoms arms drapped in the "priceless artifacts" from the India section.

They very much had a price. His buyer had paid a hefty chunk in advance.

Catwoman, who Danny had silently sworn vengeance against, kicked Batman away from her mid brawl and launching him in the direction Phanton was escaping.

Crud. It was time to fight and he was so not happy about it. Danny did manage to get away with the use of his electric powers. Turns out leaving the lower half of your face exposed is a bad idea, especially if your opponent knows Thunder Punch.

He used an EMP pulse as he ran to fry any cameras and Batmans equipment before heading down the hallway and through a few walls. He turned invisible once he was far enough away and flew off into the night with his prize.

This buyer better not backstabbing him. He's in no mood to play nice tonight.

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year ago

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From Two to Four: Part 2

Single Dad!Jake Seresin x Single Mom!reader

Summary: a trip to the movie theater with your son becomes more eventful when you meet a man and manage to save his daughter’s birthday from being ruined.

warnings: none really. Probably typos.

Words: 1800

Two to Four Masterlist, Main Masterlist

---

Jake:

“Daddy?”

Olive's steps are a delicate pattering in the hallway as she calls for him. Her fist rubs the sleep from one eye, forcing a half-blinded trek to the kitchen. The other hand has her stuffed dinosaur clenched within the vice grip of her fingers.

“Yea, baby,” Jake responds as he sips his coffee at the round table in their kitchen.

When she reaches his side, she pats his arm until he scoots his chair back far enough for her to crawl onto his lap. “Daddy, today?”

Jake sighs. He should have expected that question to be the first thing out of her mouth upon seeing him. It’s the first thing that’s come out of her mouth every morning since she found Jamie, and he found you. And while Olive is always the one to speak it aloud, it’s a question Jake has asked himself plenty.

It’s been a week since the theater. A week since you shared one popcorn while your children shared the other. A week since he asked if you’d be willing to set up a playdate. But the most that has passed between you since are a handful of text messages mentioning careers, your children, and confirming your single relationship statuses.

To say he’s moved faster with women in the past is an understatement so extreme it’s laughable, but with you, he can’t bring himself to push too far. Every time he writes out the message on his phone asking the four of you to get together, he is hit with the sudden thought that there is a lot on the line. While he doesn’t know much about you, what he does know is just a little too perfect. It makes him want to know more. More than he should.

He wants to know your past and how you see your future; your likes and dislikes; what kind of mother you are–though he suspects nothing less than wonderful. He wants to know about Jamie’s father and how involved he is; if he’s good to you, offering the support and kindness you and Jamie deserve. But then, that thought invites a new concern. If the father is in your life, should Jake allow his mind to continue wandering? Should he really be thinking about the single mother with a stunning face and a laugh that had his stomach fluttering, who also has a son his daughter’s age? You might as well have a halo above your head, and he doesn’t want to let you slip through his fingers, but his pulse races when he thinks of asking you to meet again. You could very well not feel the same. There’s a high chance you haven't been thinking about him as much as he has you.

So he hasn’t called. He doesn’t want to face the rejection. But it’s affecting his daughter now, who is rapidly growing impatient.

Olive tilts her head back, doe-like eyes staring hard at the underside of his chin until he surrenders and looks down. Her bottom lip protrudes in a pout.

“You promised,” she whimpers, and Jake snorts, fully aware of her manipulative tactics. “I wanna play with Jaime.”

She rarely asks him for anything; it truly is the least he could do for her. And maybe seeing you will help him gather the courage to ask what he is desperate to know.

“Alright, baby,” Jake agrees. “Today.”

—

The second Olive’s feet hit the sand, she beelines for Jaime.

The second his own feet hit the sand, he’s searching for you.

You’re close by, keeping a dutiful eye on the children as they meet in the middle with a tight hug. Jamie slightly lifts Olive off the ground which elicits a strand of giggles that are greatly overdue. The sight is a little squeeze to Jake’s heart. He wants her smiles always present; Her eyes permanently alight.

“How are you?” is the calling question that turns his attention. You’re walking toward him, and while there is no halo, the rays of the sun accentuate your silhouette in a comparable angelic manner.

“I’m good. Great,” he corrects as your face becomes more distinguishable. Still so beautiful. “And you?”

With that wide stomach-flutter-inducing smile, you shrug. “Never better.”

Once you’ve established beach rules and received speedy agreements, you both take a seat in the sand, maintaining a view of your children while staying far enough away to give them space to exercise their imaginations. Which they do to the utmost degree. With each game of tag played, the chaser transforms into a new ferocious creature—larger than the one before—until Jamie finds himself running from a mammoth with lollipops for tusks and a blue bow tied around its trunk. Ferocious indeed.

“It’s so easy for them,” you say. “They just slip right into it.”

Jake’s eyes meet the profile of your face as you stare at your kids in longing-like wonder.

“I never had that. Not really.” You finally look at him. “Not even with Jamie’s father.”

Were there sadness in your soft gaze, Jake wouldn’t perk up the way he does at the mention of the man he can’t avoid thinking about wherever he thinks of you. A man he’s assumed he might never hear the details of. While Jake isn't one to conceal the pieces of his past, it’s impossible to say—with such little known about you—if you approach the topic similarly. To Jake, the past is what made him who he is; good, bad, ugly. The past, however difficult, gave him his daughter, and he doesn’t refrain from speaking about that time simply because he is not ashamed of it.

Praying he’s not about to cross an unforgivable line, Jake cautiously says, “Would you tell me about him? If you’re comfortable.”

You blow out a long breath. A beat passes before you nod. “He’s not around,” you say, and Jake is met with a shameful pang of relief. “And left before Jamie was born.”

“Does he know?”

“Yes,” you reply. “But he changed the moment I told him. Grew angrier with each day. Started blaming me for not having taken precautions—like he was such a prize and I was trying to keep others from having a chance to claim him for themselves.” Your brow pinches and your toes dig into the sand as if to keep you grounded. “When I was seven months along, he met some girl at a New Year’s Eve party I was too exhausted to attend, and a month later he broke up with me to move to the other side of the country with her. I think they’re married now,” you say. “And I doubt she ever knew about me or Jamie.”

Jake’s silent as he takes it all in, thankful for what you were willing to share of your story, though there is likely more you’re not quite ready to divulge. Even so, the thought of you being abandoned at eight months pregnant is enough to simultaneously churn his stomach and invite a red hue to seep into the circumference of his vision.

You’re strong, he thinks. Stronger than many. Stronger than the man who tossed you and your son away.

You interrupt his thoughts with a question of your own. “Do you mind if I ask the same?”

Unafraid to tell his story, and eager to hopefully tighten the budding connection between you, Jake doesn’t hesitate to begin. “She’s not around, either,” he says. “And I have no idea where she is.”

From that answer alone, he notices your shoulders relax.

A shriek comes from ahead and Jake pauses to confirm it's of playfulness before continuing. “She never wanted Olive. I hate saying that, but she was honest from the beginning, and I thought I felt the same until the due date got close.”

With much of your attention given to him—the rest, of course, reserved for the children—his confidence grows.

“Somehow, it took almost nine months for the word ‘adoption’ to leave either of our mouths, though we both knew that was the path we were choosing. But hearing it—something happened to me.” Jake runs his fingers through his hair, recalling the immediate shift in his heart; remembering the relentless image plaguing his mind of a coin balanced on its narrow edge, able to land on either side. “I became unsettled, when before I was so sure. And it kept me up nearly every night until Olive came.

“When she finally did, I took one look at her and knew she was mine. More than mine by blood, but my daughter,” he says. “Her mother was pissed. Said she didn’t want me coming after her to demand she take responsibility down the line, but I swore I wouldn’t and I haven’t seen her since. I took Olive home to a house entirely unprepared for a baby, and that was it.”

Just as he had, you soak it all in. “Do you think she will ever come back?” You ask.

Purely out of respect for his daughter, Jake thinks about his answer for more than a half-second. No one has ever asked him that before. He hasn’t ever asked it himself. Because he already knows the truth.

He shakes his head and replies, “No. She’s not the type.”

With a nod, you say, “Neither will Jamie’s father. Not that I want him to. Jamie doesn’t know him and, for now, doesn’t seem to be missing that figure.” You pull your legs to your chest, wrap your arms around them, and settle your chin atop your knees. “But I fear the day I’m no longer enough for him. His friends will talk about their fathers, they’ll ask about his, and what will he say?”

Jake has been neglecting the very same worry for years. He’ll have a teenage girl one day. There are things she won’t want to talk to him about; things he isn’t sure how to comfortably explain.

But Jake doesn’t say that, though he should. Instead, he goes with what feels slightly more important at the moment—validation.

“You’re enough,” he says. “More than enough.”

In the silence that follows, you simply watch one another. Examining; deciphering; appreciating. And he could’ve stayed that way, but parental duties come first.

“Daddy!” Olive suddenly calls in tune with Jamie’s, “Mommy!”

You both break the held stare to greet the smiling faces of your children. Their hands alternate between burrowing into the ground for wet sand and dumping handfuls of softer grains over a mound of unidentifiable shape.

“Lookit! We are building our new house,” Olive yells, her arms spread wide with pride after smacking a chunk of damp sand onto the side of their sculpture.

Jaime nods with enough vigor to strain his neck.

“It’s perfect,” you say.

“You really like it?”

“We love it,” Jake confirms.

The four-year-olds share a triumphant grin before Jaime decidedly declares, “That’s good! All of us are moving in tomorrow!”

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @abaker74 @dizzybee03 @alana4610 @thewitchesofart

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm fic #tgm #jake seresin fluff #dad!jake seresin x reader #singledad!jake seresin

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luxaofhesperides · 11 months ago

Note

Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird.

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands.

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable.

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents.

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government.

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner.

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense.

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap.

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half.

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go.

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion.

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint.

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal.

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist.

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot.

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch.

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares.

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait.

For now, this is more than enough.)

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #once again unable to resist the urge to write abt living buildings #duke and danny are pining no stop bc they're both like 'this is a bad time for a relationship/i have to keep too many secrets' etc etc #while also cuddling and going on dates that they dont call dates out loud and sighing wistfully when they think of each other #taking what small things they can while trying to hide their feelings....#some other batfam member is going to stumble upon them in public and chat a bit w dukes friend #then walk away texting the group chat like 'hey duke and his friend are madly in love but too shy/stupid to do something abt it.#lets play cupid lol' and then theyre all trying to get duke and danny together #it gets to the point that every time they hang out it ends with them doing some nonsense to escape the batfam and their kind but unhinged #attempts to get them together #thanks for the prompt!!!

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netherfeildren · 1 year ago

Text

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .8

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Discussions of child abandonment

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Posted a day early bc I adore all of you so much <3

Artwork is Kiss by Edward Munch (1897)

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

You have to pick the places you don’t want to walk away from.

Joan Didion, The Book of Common Prayer

The passage of time is a strange thing when wading through the midst of grief. At once, a sort of liminal space you’ve created to enshroud your existence, protect yourself in. Like all time has stopped, and you’ve cemented yourself in this space where your pain and sadness was created, but also, with life continuing to churn around you without pause. So that you’re left to watch as everything around you passes by – all while you’re unable to move, breathe, change.

It was… saying it was difficult would have been laughable – inane – to move on from the scene in the park. The look on Joel’s face, his silence, Sarah’s cries for her mother. You wanted to be there for them, to know what was happening between them, if Sarah was okay, if Joel was okay. But you remain in your shroud instead, surrounded only by all the things you want, but will not let yourself have, surrounded by all the ghosts of your past you’re so fucking tired of holding on to.

The day’s been abysmal – exhausting and sluggish, and it seems as though everything that could have gone wrong, had. Like the universe was working overtime to turn your existence into one ridiculous, cosmic punch line. And now, well into the evening, and much, much later than you should be leaving the school, you make your way towards your lonely car at the far end of the parking lot. You’d had to stay late to figure out a delivery issue with your order of supplies for the rest of the semester and had lost track of time once again. Now nearing eleven PM, you’re exhausted and hungry and freezing – the true chill of late autumn finally sweeping into the city with an angry vengeance.

You’d had Sarah at the forefront of your mind all day, worse than usual, for some reason. You couldn’t stop thinking about the sound of her little voice asking you if you’d had as much fun with her as she’d had with you. She’d embedded herself into your heart in such a short time, and as inextricably as her father had. Just one more painful thing you had to carry on without.

You climb into your car and sit for a moment, head tilted back against the headrest, staring out into the dark night. You’ve felt on the verge of tears all day, a tight, pinched heat hovering just at the edge of your forebrain, ready to break and spill at the slightest provocation, and just sitting here now, after such a terrible day, at the thought of having to go back to your lonely, quiet house and get into a cold bed, only to dream about him, well, it has those tears rushing forward and spilling unencumbered from your eyes.

You must surely paint a very sad and pathetic image, sitting here alone in your dark car, crying over a man who you’d so definitively pushed away, you thought that whatever he might’ve felt about you at one point, would surely turn to hatred eventually, after having hurt him so much. The thought fills you with a rueful bitterness, and you think that after everything, it’s only what you deserve. You think of his coaxing voice, telling Sarah that it’d all be okay, and as you reach to turn the key in the ignition, you think that maybe you’ll get yourself an ice cream with sprinkles too, maybe that’ll make you feel even a little better, just like he’d said, make you feel close to them, but when you turn your wrist all the car does is give a pitifully sad sputter and croak and then nothing. You turn the key again, again, the lights on the dash flicker, and then it goes completely silent and dead. And yeah, this is just exactly what you’d expect. You’re sure that you’re being punished. Punished for ever getting involved with him, for falling in love with him, for pushing him away, for hurting him, punished for existing, perhaps, because God can things get any worse? You don’t think so. Your tears renew their vigor, and then you’re slumped over, brow pressed to the steering wheel as you sob. It’s so late and you’re so tired. All you want is to go home to him. All you want is to see him, to have him hold you and tell you in that deep, comforting voice that it’ll all be okay. Gerri had mentioned that she had plans with her sister tonight, you don’t want to interrupt that, and you realize, as you wrack your brain for what to do, that you have no one to call to come help you. It’s closer to midnight than not, and you’re entirely alone here, stranded in the cold night.

And at that terribly sad, despairing thought, you pick up your phone and dial his number. You don’t even consider the fact that it’s late, that he could be busy, asleep, with Sarah or his wife. The impulse is uncontrollable, you need him, you need to hear his voice. Nothing else matters. It only rings twice before that gorgeous bass is rumbling in your eardrum. Your eyes flutter shut at the sound of it, all your breath whooshing out of you in a pained exhale.

“Hello?”

“Joel–” you gasp.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is immediately full of panicked worry.

“I’m sorry to call so late. I– I didn’t–”

He says your name sharply, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I– I didn’t have anyone else to call, I’m sorry and a– a–,” you can’t catch your breath, “I– I didn’t want to– to call anyone else, and– and I’ve had just– just the worst day, and Joel– Joel, I miss you so much, and I’m so sorry,” you cry. “I can’t stop thinking about you saying that this was hurting you, that I was hurting you, and then Sarah, and– and now my car won’t start and I– I can’t, Joel. I just can’t do this anymore.” You let your forehead fall forward onto the steering wheel as you feel tears drip down your chin and onto your lap, digging your nails painfully into the leather of the wheel.

“Jesus Christ, where are you?” You can hear him moving around quickly on his end, the jingle of his keys. He says something you can’t make out to someone on the other side, and your heart seizes with panic for one second, but then: the snap of his fingers, and Tommy, I’ll call you, closer to the receiver, and your anxiety abates for a moment. “It’s eleven o’clock at night. Are you at the school? Are you by yourself?”

“Yes– yes, the college.”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Don’t cry anymore, and listen to me,” his voice goes, suddenly, very serious, snapping you to attention, “You didn’t hurt me,” he says. “Okay? I don’t want you thinkin’ that. The circumstances, perhaps, but never you. Do you understand me?”

He can’t see you shake your head, but you do it anyway. I’m sorry, you whisper again. You know you did, you know your indecision and recalcitrance and rejection hurt him. “Wait, Joel–” you don't know what you want him to wait for because all you can think, all you can feel, is the most tremendous amount of relief you’ve probably ever felt in your entire life. He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming for you. It’ll all be okay now.

“I’ll be right there, baby. Don’t worry, and lock your goddamn doors.” You hear the slam of a door. “Ten minutes.”

He makes it in seven. Your cheek is smushed against the steering wheel, half of your face gone to numbness now, when his headlights swing into the dark parking lot. You pick your head up, blinking your blurry eyes, trying to collect yourself �� stop your crying, but you’re dizzy, half lulled to sleep by the headache brought on by your tears and anxiety, and then he’s there at your door, rapping on the window and tugging on the handle for you to open it. You flip the lock, and he rips the door open, coming to a crouch in front of you and taking your wet face into his hands, swiping his thumbs beneath your swollen, aching eyes. Your tears fall harder. You can’t help it. He’s touching you, he’s here, after weeks and weeks of dreaming of him and hurting for him and missing him, needing him, he’s here and he’s touching you.

“Joel–” you sob, throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as tightly as you can.

“Fuck, baby, please, please, don’t cry like this. Please, you’re breakin’ my heart.” He rubs your back in long, soothing strokes, trying to calm your wracking sobs.

“I’m– I’m sorry – I can’t help it. I– I’ve missed you so– so much,” you hiccup. He presses your head into the crook of his neck, drapes one of your knees over his crouched leg to pull you in closer to him. You’re so warm, you mumble into his skin, delirious.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he soothes, “I’m here now. No more crying. I’m gonna make it okay. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Not gonna let you miss me anymore, sweet girl. No matter what you say. This ends now.”

Please, please, you whisper again and again over the sound of your tears. You don’t even know what it is, really, that you’re pleading for. You only know that if he doesn’t give it to you, you feel you might surely die without it. “I’m so tired, Joel,” you whisper, as he holds you, settles you in his arms.

He follows you home in his truck after he gets your car to start again, says he wants to make sure you get there safe. You hope what he really wants is to just stay with you a little bit longer.

As you clamber out of your car in your driveway, your heavy tote weighing your shoulder down, he’s already there, gently gripping your elbow to help you out, sliding your bag off your shoulder and relieving you of the burden.

“I’m– I’m okay. You don’t have to.”

“Hush, let me take care of you,” he murmurs as he takes your keys from your grasp and slides his warm palm along the small of your back, urging you towards your house where he unlocks the door and follows you into the dark interior.

“Joel, it’s alright. If you need to go, or–”

“There’s nowhere I gotta be other than right here, sweetheart.” He sets your bag down by the door as you retreat to the far side of the living room. You need space to breathe, to collect your thoughts, or you’ll throw yourself at him, melt onto the ground at his feet and turn into a puddle of tears and desperate want right before his eyes. You think that what little dignity you’re still holding on to should be preserved right now, at least in front of him.

“Sarah?”

“Tommy’s with her.”

“Eva…?”

“She left,” he says plainly.

“On another trip?” And there’s a sort of desperate, hysterical edge starting to fill your voice at the look in his eyes. There’s something in his gaze that tells you that this is it, this is the point of no return for the both of you, for some reason.

“No, baby. She left for good. Weeks ago – got divorce papers in the mail on Monday.”

“Wh– but I–” you turn away from him, shaking your head and rubbing at your aching temple as you pace back and forth.

“You what?”

You stop your pacing, turning back to face him, entirely at a loss. “But I don’t understand…” you say, voice small – childlike.

He steps towards you, the most tender look in his eyes, “What don’t you understand, my love?” said so, so gently.

“She just left Sarah?” Your hot tears are falling once again, uncontrollable, causing your voice to hitch and break. The image of your mother, walking away from you with that tall, dark stranger, never turning back, never coming back to you. She’d gone away that day, and had never really come back again, not in any real sense. And now Sarah, the same thing was happening to Sarah. You feel a hot surge of anger rise up inside of you like a cresting wave. You go almost dizzy at the intensity of the feeling rising up, and you’re forced to reach out to the closest surface for support. A weeper in a long line of weepers, and you are so fucking tired of it. You never want to shed another tear over any of this ever again, for the rest of your life. You just want to be happy, you just want peace, you just want to let go of this interminable anger and resentment, let the wound close, please, please, please. Just let go of it already.

“I don’t– why would she just leave? How could she just leave her like that?” I don’t understand, I don’t, I don’t. How could she just leave like that? How could she just leave me like that? How could my mother just leave me like she did? How can a mother just go away and never come back to her little girl? You’d never understand. You couldn’t.

And yet, through the haze of your panic and grief, his voice breaking through the turmoil is loud and clear. You realize that his hands are on you now, cradling you in his embrace, pressing kisses to your hot face and hair, murmuring in that gentle, and reassuring tone you love so much: I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, and I’ll never leave either of you. I swear to you, I swear, I swear.

And once again you’re reminded of category, of the power of category and what comes before it and what comes after it. What is feeling before category? No longer possibility, but promise, promise, the promise of his love. For even if he hasn’t said it aloud, you feel it in the press of his hands, the reassurance of his voice, in his presence here, in this moment, coming to you when you needed him so badly, despite everything else. There is promise in the love he translates into your body, into your soul.

And then it breaks through the haze of your mind: my love, my love, my love.

And there is your category, after all.

You feel him sink to the ground with you held in his arms, and he cradles you as you cry. As you let out what you promise yourself in those moments, to be the last anguished tears you will ever shed for your past again, for the loss of a mother, for the idea of the right kind of love. He cradles you and pets your hair and whispers words of reassurance and love and comfort into your ear until you're lost to the sound of his quiet voice and his stroking hands, and you fall into the first sleep in months where he doesn’t visit you in your dreams.

You come to slowly, taking stock of your exhausted body. Your head throbs, but there is the most delicious heat seeping into you everywhere, comforting and heavy and blazingly hot. He shifts as he realizes you’re beginning to wake up, and his arms tighten around you for a moment, before he’s pulling back to cradle your head and look down at you. You realize that you’re both laying in the dark coolness of your bedroom. He must have carried you in here after you’d cried yourself into exhaustion, stayed with you to accompany you in your sleep.

He rumbles at you, deep in his chest, drags his fingers along your scalp and down the length of your hair, and your eyes flutter closed at the sound, at the feel of him. You love him so, so much. You are so in love with him.

My love, my love, my love. A shiver wracks through you, and you let out a tiny whimper.

“How do you feel?” he murmurs. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m–” you clear your throat, it feels raw, your voice coming out rough and scratchy, “I’m okay.” He’s quiet for a beat, taking your face in, and you bring your hands up to wrap around your throat, to keep yourself from grabbing at him, pulling him over you and never letting him go. You’re afraid, you don’t know what’s supposed to happen now. His wife had left his daughter, she’d sent him divorce papers, but you’d pushed him away, you’d hurt him, and he’d not come to look for you since. You didn’t know where you stood, despite him being here, despite his words and his touch, you were unsure what it was that would or could happen now.

He looks down at you for a second longer, and then nods once and moves to stand, pulling his arm slowly from beneath your head so as not to jostle you. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Okay, you whisper as he turns to go out into the kitchen. You lay there for a second, listening to the sounds of him moving around your home, and it fills you, once again, with the most intense of longings. You want to hear him existing in your home, in your space, for the rest of your life. You’re so full of love for him, love and longing and a deep awareness of how good and kind and caring he is, and you want the opportunity to be able to give him everything he deserves.

When you step out of your restroom a few minutes later, he’s sitting at the edge of your bed, a cold glass of water dripping down onto a coaster on your bedside table. You pause at the door, leaning against the frame to stop and stare at him. He’s still not cut his hair. You wonder if he’d let you do it for him. You have the ridiculous thought that you don’t want anyone else touching his hair ever again. It’s yours, he’s yours, and you want to be the only person in the whole world who gets the privilege of experiencing that sort of intimacy with him.

He stands too after a moment, and you watch his eyes sweep down your frame – fire for you burning in his gaze. He still wants you, and oh, it’s all you need to know. He lifts one thick, strong arm to drag his fingers through his overly long curls, and you admire the lacework of blue veins beneath the stretched skin of his bulging bicep. He lets out a deep, long breath, you watch the wide wings of his rib cage contract and expand as his lungs work. His arm falls limply to his side.

“Will you come over here?” he says, so softly, but with a note of distressed fervor at having you so near, and yet, not being able to touch you, but also, at the same time, afraid, afraid that you’ll reject him again. Your eyes flutter shut at the sound, and then you’re stumbling forward and throwing yourself into his arms.

He catches your skull in the firm grip of his wide palm, thick fingers twisting in your long locks, “This is it,” he says, looking down into your face, “You understand me?” And yes, yes you do. You realize that there’d always been a part of you that wanted someone to tell you, to claim you, to tell you that you were theirs without doubt or stipulation, to tell you that you belonged to them, and here he was, doing just that – had been trying to do so from the very first moment. The realization fills you with the deepest of comfort.

Your eyes flutter closed and you nod, yes, you whisper, I understand, and then you’re letting your head fall back on your neck, opening to him, and he’s kissing you, pressing his mouth to yours and taking you with a sense of savage, desperate victory. Finally, finally, the two of you have found yourselves on the same sure footing, finally, you can give yourselves to each other without anything else to interfere or hold you back.

His strong hand anchors your head exactly at the angle that he wants you, and he sweeps his tongue deep into your mouth, slick and wet and molten. His other hand slipping down your back to clutch the soft swell of your ass and press you up and into him.

He turns to slowly lower you down onto your bed, never once taking his mouth from yours. When you hit the soft surface he slides his mouth across your cheek, along the edge of your jaw, a gentle nip to the throb of your pulse and then further down to the wing of your clavicle. You drag your fingers through his hair, over his face, feeling the flutter of his lashes, the coarse roughness of his beard, the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders as his mouth moves over your skin. He pulls back to pull your top off and slide your trousers down your legs, and then he’s rolling you onto your side, your limbs divested entirely of their autonomy at the gentle maneuvering of his big hands, he unhooks the clasp of your bra, and then he’s pressing you entirely down onto your belly. Taking in the elegant sweep of your back, the delicate muscles twitching and trembling beneath the gorgeous surface of your skin. He slowly pulls your thong over the swell of your ass and bends to bite down on the supple flesh of your cheek – hard – laves his tongue over the hurt to soothe, and you keen, high pitched and wild for him, hips hitching in a needy little arc. He wants to mark you, brand you permanently. Write his name into your flesh, blood drawn for him to drink down.

There is a certain flavor of darkness swelling inside him, something possessive that demands he take you and mark you as his, only his, forever.

He pulls you up slightly by your hips and grips you by the meat of your ass to spread you wide for his inspection – red cunt, weeping and swollen already for him. So pretty, he tells you, praises you. You beautiful fucking thing.

He bends his head and licks the broad flat of his tongue from your clit, all the way through your sex to your asshole, presses his tongue there, just slightly, to let you feel the pressure at that secret little place he plans to eventually take for himself as well. Your moan at the feel of him there is loud and guttural. He clamps down on your hips, tight, to keep you from squirming away from his exploring mouth.

“Joel, please, please–” you beg, but it’s his turn now, his turn to do with you as he will. He flips you back over, tosses your legs over your head and pulls you up by the hips to start licking you in earnest. His mouth on your throbbing clit, his thumb in the cleft of your ass, he sucks on your clit hard, one foot planted on the ground, another bent on the edge of the bed, he supports your weight like that as he eats your cunt. “Knees hurt, baby,” he rumbles into your wet flesh. All you can do is moan and whimper his name over and over again. He licks into your fluttering hole, kisses and laps at your clit, over and over again, until he can feel the tremble of your thighs around his head and the shifting of your abdomen and then you’re coming on his tongue, scratching at his arms and sides, anywhere you can dig your nails into him and grapple for purchase.

“Please, please, take your clothes off, I want to feel your skin. I have to, please.”

He lets you down to pull back and reach around for the neck of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head, shucking off his jeans and boxers, and then he’s kneeling over you and pressing his entire heavy weight down into you, covering you with the broad expanse of his body. He squeezes and kneads your soft flesh, gripping the lush of your bottom to roll your wet core against his hard length. Your shared moan at the feel of the hot press of your aching flesh sliding alongside each other trembles through the lines of your body, and he pulls his hips back slightly, notching the wide head of his cock at your entrance and pushing into you slowly, slowly, so that you’re made to feel every throbbing inch of his thick girth. He shifts one of his knees further up beneath your thigh to anchor you more firmly into his lap and pulls his hips back and then drives back in, hard and deep so that his cockhead bumps at the mouth of your womb.

“Oh God, Joel– harder, please, harder, more,” you beg.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he groans into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at the line of muscle that connects your throat and shoulder, putting more of his weight behind his thrusts so that he’s ramming into you in slow but devastatingly deep strokes, his hand anchored at the base of your spine to pull you onto his impaling cock. “So much, baby. Was going out of my fucking mind without you. Need– need you. Fuck–” he moans as your inner walls start to clench and flutter at his words. You press your heels into the small of his back to urge him further into you. You want him deeper, need him harder.

He hooks a hand beneath one of your knees then, spreads you wide and angles his hips down so that he can drill into you. He pulls his head back to look into your eyes, “Come on my cock, come for me, sweetheart. Lemme feel that cunt soak me. I need it.” You’re stuffed so full, cunt stretched obscenely wide, pleasure and pain coalesce in your core, his battering cock stoking the fire in your blood until your pulsing and throbbing around his unrelenting length, cunt clenching and convulsing around him, trying to suck him deeper. He bares his teeth at you and almost growls at your wet gush. You arch your back further, muscles pulled tight as a bow string, trying to let him in deeper, deeper, you think that it’ll never be far enough, but he pulls out then, suddenly. Your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, and you cry out, trying to hold him by his hair, dragging your nails over his shoulders to pull him back to you, but he’s bending and gripping the backs of your thighs to spread you wide, wide for the broad expanse of his shoulders, and he’s licking through the swollen mess of your cunt, lapping unrelentingly at your clit, licking into your opening so that you’re forced to roll into another cresting orgasm. Your muscles clenching and throbbing, a deep, searing heat coiling in your pelvis and unspooling in a rush of wet, musky slick onto his tongue.

You’re beyond words, thought, consciousness, almost – a wet, trembling mess of a girl. You think you’re whispering his name over and over again, can feel the vibration of words in your throat, begging for something you have no name for, perhaps his love, his devotion, but no, you know you already have that. You can feel it in the press of his hands, in the sweep of his tongue, in the murmured words of adoration and praise he presses into your slick skin. My love. He sucks hard on your clit, once, twice, and then he’s flipping you over again and pulling your hips up, up, up, and pressing the incredible thickness of his cock back into you, sinking deep down to the end of you, and holding there, grinding, so that you’re left clawing and mewling desperately for him to relent, to move, to go harder, something, anything.

There’s a part of you that thinks you want him to destroy you, to unmake you, to unravel you to your very core and then put all your pieces back together himself.

“ Fuck– look at you… so pretty stuffed full of my cock, baby. So perfect. My perfect girl,” he grunts, slamming his hips into your ass. All you can do is mewl and whimper pathetically, twisting the sheets beneath you in your shaking fingers.

“What?” he pulls out, presses the wide head to your clit, then slides back up and in again, so slow. “How does it feel? Describe it to me – use your big girl words.”

“Unghh– so– so good. I don’t– I can’t,” you cry, “… so full.”

“Oh, I know,” he coos, reaching around to pinch your clit, up higher to cup your swinging breast, twisting your nipple harshly, “I know it’s hard to think when you’re so full of cock, isn’t it?”

He deepens the curve of your spine with a palm to the small of your back, face pressed into the mattress, ass up and completely open and vulnerable to him. His hips against the backs of your thighs are unrelenting as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock over and over, his balls slapping wetly against your clit, his other hand twisted tight in your hair. You can feel the rebound of your flesh at each of his thrusts, and you feel him getting more and more desperate. The rhythm of his hips translating all the weeks and months of wanting and anguish and lies and secrecy you’d volleyed back and forth between the two of you in whatever pathetic attempt you could muster to stay away from each other. All his frustration at you for pushing him away, keeping him at arms length, the painful cage of his marriage. You can feel all that repressed exasperation in the battering of his thick cock against your womb, balls slapping against your clit. He’s like a muted bruise deep inside you and you moan, your eyes rolling back into your head at the throb that rolls through your body.

“Don’t stop, please. Never stop.”

“Yeah? Like that, baby?” he grits.

He pulls you up against him, with one strong arm, back pressed tight to his chest, and you can feel the sweat sliding between the two of you. His breath is wet and panting, moaning, in your ear. His thrusts growing harder, deeper, erratic; he bands the inescapable strength of his forearm across your chest, pressing your breasts up and squeezing your tit tight in his big palm. You keen at the twisting pain, and he turns his face into your hair and groans, whimpers, the sound sliding through your hair as you start to come around his length one more time, cunt clenched so tight it hurts, almost pushes him out, but he fucks you through it. Forcing himself in again and again. You can feel your wetness dripping and smearing across both of your thighs – the wet gush of it, obscene. Your whole fist is clenched tightly around two of his fingers, holding on for dear life as you feel him start to come, the waves of his release rolling through him and into you, coating your insides with his hot spend. His heat blankets the bruise inside you know you’ll feel tomorrow, soothes and incites it at the same time. There’s a sudden flash of desperate gratitude within of you. He’s marked you. You’re his now.

“I love the way you take me,” he breathes into your ear, “My perfect girl.” He grinds deep, and your muscles work to pull him further, pull his spend in further. Your whole body trembles and shakes, your cunt clenching tight as a knot, and then going loose and shaky so that you can feel the gush of his come start to leak out of the place where you’re joined. He plants one thick arm on the bed in front of you so that he can bend forward and let the both of you fall slowly to the bed, still buried inside of you. You continue to clench around his length, and he still has your breast clutched in his grip so that when your front meets the surface of the bed he’s draped over your back, so big and muscular and heavy, and you love the feel of his weight pressing you into the mattress. You turn your head towards him, so that both your sweaty brows are pressed against each other, and the two of you can breathe each other in.

You stay like that for a long time, letting your oversensitive bodies come down from their trembling highs. Everything is sweaty and sticky and slick with your mingled come. Overwhelming in the most perfect way.

Eventually he rolls the two of you over so that he’s not crushing you, your head rests against his chest – both of you catching your breaths still. His cock lays heavy and soft on his belly, damp from your mingled come.

You dance your fingertips along his hip, draw unseen flowers and vines that grow up towards his ribs and down his thigh. His own fingertips are a slow drag along the notches in your spine. Little pauses at each dip where he presses into your skin – he’s telling you something. Pressing a silent message into those beats, and you’re hyper focused on the feeling of it as you cover him in your invisible greenery.

“What are you thinking?” you whisper. He’s quiet for a long time, and you’re worried it’s something bad. Regret or a wish for something different. But then he says: “I haven’t been this happy in a very, very long time.” And what more could you want to hear from him in this moment?

“Wanna know a secret?” he says.

“Mhmm,” you hum, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his dragging fingers over your damp skin.

“I stole your panties, that first time at the lake, the blue ones.”

Your eyes pop open, and you surge up to lean on one elbow and look at him, “Oh, you are so–” you swat at his chest, “I looked everywhere for those – I want them back!”

“Nah, they’re mine now.” He squeezes you into him, cranes his neck to nip at the swell of your naked breasts squished up against his hard chest.

You lay your head back down on him, and grumble, “You’re a panty thief.”

“I am.” And no one should sound that pleased, at the sound of that sort of accusation. “Prettiest little scrap of lace I’d ever seen in my life, I had to have ‘em. Blue’s my favorite color now, you know.” He fists your hair to bring your mouth to his, “Gonna buy you a hundred more pairs of blue panties for you to wear for me,” licks into you.

Later he says: “Can I tell you something selfish now?”

“Always.”

He’s quiet again for a beat, and you’re coming to recognize these silences of his as moments of gathering for his words, things that have never come easily to him. “Sarah’s the love of my life,” he says slowly. “Nothing has ever, ever made me happier than she has. I’ve never loved anything more than I loved her the first moment I held that tiny little baby in my hands. But sometimes– sometimes I just– I wanted something else, something other than just my child, something only mine– that makes me happy and belongs only to me. And she’s my daughter, and so of course she’s mine, right? But one day she’ll go away and make her own life, and what’ll I be left with? Just my memories of her? And– and sometimes I think I– I resent … not her, never her – but I guess the idea of that, maybe? I’m not sure that’s right… but that she’s my only source of– of joy. I resent that. And it — God, it makes me feel so fucking selfish and ungrateful … because I’m not, I’m– I’m grateful for the miracle of her every single day, it’s the first thing I think about when I open my eyes every morning, and I’d never, never discount that or– or not realize that she’s such a blessing and how fucking lucky I am to have her, but… I don’t know… Do you– you know? You know what I mean? Is that — that’s real bad, isn’t it?”

“No, Joel. It’s not at all,” you say softly. The look in his eyes devastates you. So unsure, so wary. Like you’d strike him down, like you’d discount his feelings, not even try and understand him. You cup his cheek and he turns to nuzzle his nose into the palm of your hand. “I know what you mean.”

“That’s what you are for me. That something else–” You’re quiet, taking in what he’s saying. “I don’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not scaring me. You could never do that.” You wrap your arms tighter around his waist, press a kiss to his belly, nuzzle the space under his ribs. “You’re a father, but you’re a man too. You deserve something else – besides just fatherhood – something for you. To make you happy.” You think of your mother, of Eva, two people who’d, like Joel, also wanted something for themselves – something besides parenthood that was only theirs, but who’d not known how to find it without forsaking all the rest. And Joel… who’d sacrifice anything for his daughter, even you, you’re sure. But still he’d fought for you, he’d hoped for you, and now look at the two of you, here together finally.

You lay holding each other for a long time through the night. You think of the hours and days and weeks you spent lying alone in this bed, missing him, hurting for him, and now, to have him here with you, with nothing else in the way, it feels like the most sacred sort of miracle.

“Will you take a shower with me?” you ask him eventually.

“Yeah, baby. ‘Course I will.”

The two of you stand under the warm spray together, his arms wrapped around your back, enshrouded in the cocoon of heat and steam. Your face tucked up beneath his jaw, you lick the warm water that runs down the slope of his neck, pepper small kisses to the beat of his pulse, his ear, the dip of his collarbone. His hands sweep over you in slick, roving arcs, squeezing your ass, traveling the slope of your spine, encircling your waist, exploring the lines of your ribs. His fingers are thick and strong and they press between the spaces of the bones in your chest, as if he’s looking for a gap in the protective outer shell that enshrines you, looking for a way to sneak in and peer inside, to the heart of you. If you could, you’d split your very skin for him, let him live inside you forever.

Your mouth moves down to the notch at the base of his throat, and you lave your tongue there, tasting the flavor of his warm skin. Then to the thick muscle connecting his neck and shoulder, you dig your teeth in, sharp and hungry, and suck hard. Hard enough that you hear a little gasp slip out of him, his fingers tangling in your hair painfully, pulling on the sensitive strands, but not to rip you away, rather to press you closer, to make sure you leave a mark of yourself in his skin.

You move down to his chest then, peppering open mouthed kisses over the broad expanse of his muscles there. He’s so hard, so strong everywhere. So much larger and more powerful than you are, and yet, he has the keenest ability to make you feel stronger than you’ve ever been, imbues in you the ability to feel like there isn’t anything you couldn’t do. As if there were a tether connecting the two of you, some sort of invisible string born from his heart and running all the way to yours, funneling that interminable strength of his, right into you. He makes you strong. He'd always let you be as vulnerable or as strong as you needed to be in the moment. Even despite his anger or pain or frustration he still let you get here on your own. And you realize that you’d never been allowed to be soft or sensitive – never given the chance to show your underbelly, being brought up in such a hostile environment, but he’d always given you that chance. He’d always been gentle, patient, understanding. He’d never been annoyed or frustrated at your overwhelming tears and nerves. He’d always let you be all the things you’d always been, but also gave you the chance to be all the things you’d always wanted to be, the ones you hadn’t even thought of yet. The possibility for you to grow into anything you’d like to be is endless in his embrace. You nuzzle into the smattering of chest hair at the center of his sternum, then a kiss over his heart. You pause there for a long moment, press your cheek to the surface and listen to the pulsing echo of his heart beating beneath his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as the beat thumps into your ear, and you shiver. This is the sound of Joel’s existence. When you turn your face up to his, his eyes are molten, full of heat and hunger and yes, there is it, love. You can see it melting out of him like ore. He loves you.

How is it that two people can become so wholly intertwined that words become, eventually, entirely futile? Unnecessary. You don’t need to hear him say it, at least not now, not until he wants to, but you can feel it, see it, hear it in the cadence of his voice when he swore to you that he’d never leave you, that he was here and he would remain here, that he wasn’t going to let you miss him anymore.

You start to lower to your knees slowly, face still turned up to his, your eyes never leaving his, but his hands tighten in your hair, holding you in place. “I want you to fuck my mouth,” you tell him.

“You don’t have to, baby. Floors hard.” And hearing his concern for you, that he’d think of that when you’re asking him to let you suck his cock, it makes you even more desperate to please him like this.

“Please, will you let me?” You resume your descent so he’s forced to either let you go, or pull on your hair too hard. “Will you let me do this for you? I want to taste you. I want you in my mouth.” You press a soft kiss to the skin beneath his belly button, your knees reach the shower floor, another kiss to his hip bone, your tongue runs a line at the crease of his hip and thigh, and then another kiss at the space right beside the thick root of his cock.

“Shit– yeah… yes, I’ll le– let you. God, fuck–” he spits, teeth bared in a growl. You’ve sucked one of the heavy, hanging weights of his balls gently into your hot mouth. You run your tongue along the soft skin, suckle gently on the round shape within, giving the sensitive surface as much of your wet mouth as you can. “My fucking God–” he whimpers above you. You wrap your hand around his rock hard length, fingers not fully meeting around the thickest part of him, and slowly start to jack his cock up and down, squeezing your grip at the head in a little twist. You stare up at his face the entire time, and you watch his head fall back on his neck, the strong muscles of his throat working as he pants and swallows, trying to keep his control. You hum deep in your throat, let him feel the vibration of the sound, and his hips start to thrust slowly up into your working hand. You pop your mouth off his sac and finally give the angry, flushed head the gift of your mouth. You press a gentle kiss to the curve of his tip, opening your mouth to flutter your tongue over the wide tip. You can taste the salty tang of his precum, leaking in a steady stream. Then your tongue, gentle as possible, pressed into the slit at the tip and he jerks, almost mewling at that. He’s panting above you, whispering your name over and over again, telling you how good you are, how perfect, how much he loves your mouth, what a good girl you are for taking his cock like this. You finally swallow him down in one smooth go, as far back as you can, and you hold there for a beat, another, another, working the muscles of your throat to swallow and tighten around him. His entire body is shaking now, trembling, his fist in your hair is so tight your eyes smart, tears springing to the corners. You pull back, take a breath and start to bob your head along the throbbing length in earnest. You can taste his precum at the back of your throat, and with how hard he’s trembling, you know he’s close. You hollow your cheeks around him and lave your tongue around the head on the pull back, suck hard on the tip, and then slide back as far as you can go, wrapping your hand around the base of him, the part that’s too much for you to take comfortably. Your tongue runs along the sensitive underside, you focus on the tender spot right beneath the flare of the wide mushroom head, flicking your tongue back and forth until he’s growling and moaning, his hips drawing back to start to saw his length in and out of your hot, suctioning mouth. Fucking your throat in earnest, just like you’d told him you wanted him to.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and swallow my entire load, you hear me?” he grits. “Gonna spill down that little throat and fill your belly with my come.” And fuck, your cunt throbs and clenches painfully at that. You moan up at him, pressing your thighs together to alleviate the aching want there, your watering eyes, looking up at him with all the adoration and pleading you can call forth. Yes, yes, you want to tell him, please, give me your come, give me everything you have. I can take anything if it’s from you. He anchors your head in his hands and fucks your mouth, all the way until you feel the fat tip hit the back of your throat, once, twice and then his cock seems to swell even further, just for a second, and it kicks inside your working mouth as he starts to come. Thick, searing hot spurts of salty, musky come that you swallow as fast as you can. His torso tilts forward, one arm coming up to steady himself against the shower wall behind you, and he moans, deep and guttural, his blazing eyes trained on yours the entire time. “Fuck, yes– fucking swallow it all,” his voice breaks at the end, quivering. You can feel globs of come seeping out of the corners of your mouth, and when he finally pulls his spent length from your mouth, a small whimper as you run your tongue against the extra sensitive underside at the last moment, he scoops the leaking spend back into your mouth with his thumb, pressing on the flat of your tongue as he makes sure you don’t miss a single drop of him. “All of it, sweet girl,” he whispers, eyes wide and feverish, “Every last drop.” You wrap your lips around his thumb and suck, circling your tongue around the digit, making sure you don’t miss anything. When you pull back with a loud, wet pop, he’s already bending to hook his hands beneath your underarms and jerking you up and into him, pressing his mouth savagely to yours and licking into your mouth to taste himself on your tongue.

Chapter .9

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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lintubintu · 7 months ago

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Kot Kot Review

I like Kot Kot a lot.

Despite the almost harsh difference between the intro and how the song progresses, it´s not too out there.

The music seems chaotic and structured, is melodic, nostalgic and two-faced more out of necessity than provocation, and it´s ongoing. It spirals.

There is a lovely moodiness to it that seems mature and balanced, deliberately using the intro as a bridge again and repurposing the funky "kot kot" into something that softens into the lighter part of the song. The change of pace is noticeable but not alarming and almost hopeful.

Kot Kot is not a big song nor does it exist to troll. It enjoys being silly with the chicken theme and builds a narrative that can be purposely misunderstood by people who don´t like him.

During my first listen I was a little confused but intrigued by the seemingly contradicting parts that adapt well by the second listen. Pop and Rap evolve from clashing into shaking hands.

It feels a bit like a song nobody would put on an album anymore because it is deemed barely good enough to keep up with its fellow, more popular tunes. It stands on its own where others see a filler track.

Overall, it makes me have more hope for the album now; for it to be an album and not just a compilation of Singles.

I wouldn´t be surprised if this song was the opening number, nor would I be shocked to not find an Intro at all – Kot Kot is an introduction in itself.

From what I understand of the lyrics, it also is the first song of his that makes me want to know more about him as a lyricist.

To start the song of with MAYDAY is a deliberate choice because the song is not what it seems.

It´s soft spoken and not a shrill cry for help but knows of something that already affects the narrator enough that reaching out soon is imminent. It´s a literal stress signal.

The teaser made me think the protagonist in this song was simply sick of being treated like someone doomed to continue staging a party for others.

Relying on translations and interpretations of this song, the protagonist seems to realise that their lifestyle will rather leave them with very little time spent having fun with friends – because even the party-goers have gone to bed earlier than them.

Those that tried to keep up with them may have lost their step and had to give in to their own different schedules, or are worse off for keeping them company. So their company diminishes further.

There might be little life beyond the lifestyle, the sobering thought that solitude is too close within reach for comfort – the time left after work cannot always be shared nor of quality due to their schedule.

A double blow. Real life and bonding has to be spent in time confetti. Throughout it all, the silliness persists.

Rather laughable is the Explicit rating of this song. Was it the Perhana!?

The ending is a jumpscare, them finally being silly, breaking the cycle. But at the same time, it´s a rooster greeting the morning – the protagonist worked the night away.

For a moment, you are relieved the song is over. And then you play it again.

I would love for the upcoming album to be a concept album.

This song seems to divide people in a different way than songs before it did.

Some of you seem puzzled, others more neutral than hateful, none of the dislike so far is really loud.

The timing might be a bit unfortunate – song releases at this hour have the same problems as the protagonist in Kot Kot.

And even if you really don´t like this song, I fell that there will be something on the album that you will like.

It´s ok to not like things and it doesn´t have to be justified.

Still, I am interested to hear what you don´t like about this song because I think it makes for a worthwhile conversation and I like interacting with you.

Let´s do that while we have the time.

#käärijä #kaarija #kot kot #700 words #no idea why I wrote this much #if you know don´t tell me #I seem to like this song #I like Kot Kot a lot lot #let me know what you think #all typos are due to it being 4:30am and my eyes being drIer than modern-day European soil #btw did you hear me make the chicken sound in the end?#I´m also a bird #lintu out

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mysticmellowlove · 1 year ago

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What is being high with yandere sub like? Hcs for that. Does he prefer to smoke or do edibles? Is he touchy? I imagine she isn’t dating him yet so he is alittle worried he’ll slip up.

Also I thought it would be funny if they were getting high and he thinks it’s her first time but she eats like three gummies and smokes half a joint and he’s like “should I do that too?” And she’s like “You will die if you try”

warnings; the good cush, sub yan, gn reader, dom reader, dose safely!

yan sub is the worst when he's high!

so clingy, he needs to be touching at least one part of you. If he's sitting in your lap? Even better.

sometimes he uses weed to just take the edge off and for that reason I see him as more of an edible user, oils maybe if he's feeling up to it. only ever really smokes joints when he's with friends

he likes the social aspect of it.

with you though he definitely wants to be smoking a joint, he gets an indirect kiss that way

i feel that when he's high he doesn't really care too much about how close he is to you, his real desires just seem to come out

he wouldn't go as far as to kiss you if you weren't together

but if you were he would be making out with you like crazy, he would enjoy you breathing the smoke into his mouth

he likes his sex to be pretty intense, he really needs to feel as if you're claiming and marking him so when he's high he just likes to cuddle

soft calming music, a joint or two or some edibles, mood lighting and a cozy blanket is his perfect idea of a late night session

"There's a good boy." You hummed as he took a drag without coughing. His head was on your lap as he passed the joint back to you so you could have some as well. He had a lazy grin on his face as his hand rested on your leg. He wasn't a newbie to smoking but he seemed to be in the wrong headspace to do so. He had been watching you closely ever since he had invited you over.

It would've been weird if he hadn't been trying to subtly get closer to you over the past few weeks. It was laughable actually, he obviously thought he was being sneaky.

"You're doing pretty good, better than I expected." He said as his hand reached out to caress your face. You hummed as he did, your eyes drifting over to the small packet of edibles that he had pulled out for the two of you. You popped another one into your mouth.

"What do you mean?" You questioned as you looked down at him, he wasn't ugly per se. A little roughed up around the edges but there was something about his expectant gaze. The blown out pupils that weren't just because he was high...

"You know, for someone who hasn't smoked before." He looked at you as he pulled himself from your lap. He let his arm dangle around yours as he leaned in impossibly closer. He had always been a little touchy but this seemed to be a little much, or at least it would've if you hadn't expected that there was another reason for him inviting you over.

"I've smoked plenty," You hummed as you let that calming feeling wash over you, dulling the worries of the day as you looked at him before popping another edible in your mouth. The heady taste of the weed mixed with the sweetness of the edible blended perfectly. He seemed to notice the amount you had taken from the small tray he had set up, his head cocking to the side as he looked over before looking back at you.

You grinned and winked at him as you let your hands rest on his hips. He seemed to still for a moment, his breath catching in his throat.

"I think there's a lot of things I'm more experienced in compared to you. How about I give you another example." You laughed as you looked at his wanton look, I mean really... what else could you possibly do with such a desperate looking boy?

#sub male #love for anon #drabble #dom reader #sub yandere #gn reader #yandere male

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ssentimentals · 1 year ago

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like a sunflower {choi hansol}

pairing: hansol x fem!reader

prompt: 'your heart is beating so fast right now' (this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here )

warnings: none, this is pure fluff!

hansol doesn't know how to do it. how to just- say it. words are usually so easy for him, they spring themselves into sentences and lyrics so effortlessly, so he doesn't really know why he's having such a hard time here. it's just- how can he say it? how can he tell you that sometimes he feels like he was born for you without making it weird? how he can explain that he thinks a lot about how so many people spend so much time trying to find their place in this world and yet he has no intention searching for it cause his is right next to you? words don't feel quite right whenever he tries to open his mouth and talk about it; words don't do justice to everything what's bubbling and brewing inside his heart, they fall flat when he tries to put it all on the paper. with a frustrated groan, he tears off yet another unfinished love letter, throwing it down.

'you're overthinking it,' joshua admonishes him gently. he's been quietly observing his roommate for the past twenty minutes and starts getting a little anxious at the sight of torn notebook pages at his feet. 'you two are so close, i think she'll understand what you mean even if you won't write an ode to her.'

'i want it to be perfect,' hansol replies, stubbornly tearing up another page. 'she deserves nothing but.'

'don't get so worked up,' joshua pacifies, standing up and coming over to his friend, patting his back comfortingly. 'i don't think she wants perfect, though.'

at this hansol looks up at him, frowning. joshua chuckles, putting his finger right between hansol's eyebrows, making him go a little cross eyed. joshua doesn't know how hansol can be this blind, how he can't see how you two are so close that whoever sees you for the first time always ends up thinking that you're a couple. he's never seen any other two people who care about each other so deeply as you two do, so hansol being nervous before asking you out is laughable. only hansol doesn't find it funny. joshua sighs, patting his roommate's shoulder. 'she doesn't want perfect, she just wants you.'

hansol blinks, mulling over what he heard. it sounds a bit too good to be true, but joshua is not cruel, he'd never joke with him about something so important. before he can properly give this idea a good thought, his phone beeps and from the ringtone alone he knows it's from you. hansol instantly jumps on his bed, ignoring joshua's loud snort at this and unlocks his phone, smiling at the text message from you.

'judging from your smile, i take it she invited you to come over,' joshua speaks, watching with amusement as his friend hastily starts to get dressed. 'what for?'

'i'll help with her halloween prep,' hansol mutters, pulling on his favorite sweater, the one that you gifted him for christmas. he wears it with utmost care, loving the most how you light up at the sight of this sweater on him every single time. 'and she'll help me with my statistics exam.'

'don't forget the umbrella,' joshua's voice reaches him when he's almost out of the door. 'it's gonna rain soon!'

hansol ignores it in favor of rushing to you, zipping up his backpack on the way. the road to your place is his favorite one, he knows every single crook down the alley, every single tree is familiar to him - he spent so many hours memorizing it all, because this road leads him to you and his mind shuffles everything which is even remotely close to you to the folder in his brain called 'important'. he huffs in annoyance when it first rain drops fall on his head and then groans loudly, when two rain drops turn into a full on downpour, making him look around in search of the hideout. without thinking he runs to the nearest shop, announcing his presence with a grunt, blinking up at variety of flowers in front of him in stupor.

'hello, how can i help you?'

he passed this flower shop so many times but never really went it, so young man in dark brown apron,who stares at him too kind eyes, is entirely unfamiliar. hansol clears his throat, helplessly staring back, gesturing towards the exit and mumbling something about the rain.

'oh!' understanding lights up in stranger's eyes and he smiles, nodding. 'seeking shelter from rain? it's fine, you can sit here.'

it's very kind and it makes hansol shuffle from side to side with unease as his eyes take in beauiful array of flowers. there are all kind of them, colors vary from dark to bright ones and sunflowers stick out amongst everything in their yellow-orange glory; hansol takes a step towards them. his eyes gravitated towards them just like they do with you and this thought makes him smile. 'sunflowers are not very popular,' the stranger chimes in, watching hansol with a smile on his face. 'which is a shame, really. they are very beautiful.'

'what do they mean?' hansol asks quietly, not looking away from the flowers. their color is so warm - it reminds him of you. something sparks up at the back of his mind, something that demands his attention as he stares at these flowers.

'hm, adoration in most cases, longevity in others. they are known for being 'happy' flowers, you know? like i'd give them to someone who make me happy, to person who i want to stay in my life for a long, long time.'

hansol blinks and moves on instinct, grabbing bunch of sunflowers due to his inner voice basically screaming at him to do it. 'i'll take those.'

'oh, okay. i can wrap them up in-'

'no-no, i'll take them like that, how much is it?' hansol interrupts, suddenly needing to get out of here and run to you like right now. his heart starts beating faster as ideas form in his head, joshua's voice loud and clear in his head with 'she doesn't want perfect, she just wants you'.

he hastily pays, ignores surprised looks from the guy and runs to you with sunflowers in his hand, getting wet in seconds under the pouring rain. it's cold and his clothes stick to him in the most uncomfortable ways, but his heart is marching so loud in his head, he can't think of anything else but... you. and how you will love these sunflowers. how he's an idiot for trying to capture perfect words in lyrics because perfection in this world exists only in you and nothing else. how he really can shake off any pretense and come to you with an open heart, soaked clothes and unwrapped sunflowers and that you will take him in, because that's what you always did, have done from the start. it's you-you-you and by the time he stands in front of your door, knocking urgently, hansol thinks he might have gone a bit delirious.

'who- oh my god,' you gasp, stopping on tracks at the sight of him. 'hansol, what even-' you blink, gazing in confusion at the flowers in his hand and then back at his wet clothes. there's thousand questions in your head, he can tell, but instead of voicing them out loud, you say: 'get in, god, are you okay?'

is he okay? this questions makes him want to laugh and he barely holds it in. is he okay? he doesn't know but despite the shivers running up and down his body from the cold, he feels like he's on fire. you say something about him being dumb for forgetting umbrella and every second which passes by and he doesn't confess to you feels like a second wasted.

'-you'll catch a cold if you keep on standing in these wet clothes!' you huff, pushing towel in his hands. 'and... um, these flowers..' you trail off, unsure. something ugle tugs in your chest at the thought of these flowers not belonging to you, but you stomp at these feelings. 'do you want me to put them-'

'these are for you,' he rushes out, tripping on his words. 'i mean- obviously. obviously these are for you.' hansol looks down and grimaces: 'i'm soaking your carpet, sorry.' he then quickly looks up, handing you the flowers: 'sorry, here. i hope you like them.'

'sunflowers,' you voice, carefully cradling them in your hands. 'they are beautiful.'

like you is on the tip of his tongue and hansol holds it back but then thinks better of it; why the hell he'd hold back? 'like you,' he says, smiling at surprised look on your face. 'and they make me feel warm just by looking at them and you do, too. i look at you and i- it makes me warm all over.'

you blink at him, not exactly sure what to do with this information. hansol, with this crazy look in his eyes, looks like he's on the brink of fever and you frown, stepping closer to him and feeling up his forehead for any signs of high temperature. 'you're not warm,' you state, buffled.

second passes and hansol huffs in disbelief. he takes your hand in his and moves it towards his chest, knowing very well what you'll find there. just like he predicted, your eyes widen: 'your heart is beating so fast right now.'

'i assume it would, considering how i'm about to confess.'

a stupor and then, cautious and hopeful: 'confess?'

'and ask you out as well,' hansol nods. he's mindful of not pulling you very close, not wanting to get your clothes wet too; but he still tugs at your sleeves so you'd step more in his personal space. this is where he wants you all the time. 'i tore up two notebooks, trying to write you a perfect song, or poem, or love letter. but it's hard cause i can't really find the right words for this feeling, you know? you feel it, don't you know? you know what i'm talking about, right?'

your eyes glow with a keen understanding but you still press on: 'what feeling?'

hansol sighs and when your fingers squeeze at his sweater unconsciously, in tredipation for what's to come, he knows he just needs to be honest: 'like i was made for you. like everything could change, but there's one constant thing in this world and it's us. what you and i have.' he pushes your hand tighter to his chest, searching for your eyes desperately: 'don't you feel it too?'

a fire can break down for all he cares, but he'd never look away from your eyes. you open up to him like a sunflower opens up to the sun, it's a beautiful thing. all you can do is nod, because hansol has always been better with words between you two and because you're afraid your voice might crack in the end from all of the emotions.

'i ran all the way here like a dying man cause one more second without you knowing how i feel just didn't make any sense.'

you shut your eyes, trying not to start crying. hansol, who you always seen as your soulmate, who has always been your side to the point that it's hard to imagine life without him; this hansol is the very same hansol, who tried to write you a perfect song, who ran under the rain here with sunflowers to tell you that he thinks he was made for you. you open your eyes, taking a deep breath. glancing at him and then at the flowers, you smile shakily: 'this is perfect.'

'it is?' he lights up like a little child. 'really?'

'i mean, i never really cared or wanted the perfect, i just wanted you.'

hansol sucks in breath, feeling like he was punched in the gut. god, he really needs to listen to joshua more. he opens his mouth and then tremor wracks his whole body, making him cringe: 'i..really need to change out from these wet clothes.'

sound of your laugh is the music to his ears. he watches the way your head falls back at your laugh and feels love pour out from his pores, unrestricted anymore. he may be shivering of cold now, but just by looking at you he feels warmer. just like a sunflower.

a/n: i think this ended up being way too long and maybe a bit too mushy but!! no blaming me, i had a rough time and i cope by writing something like this. to the anon who requested it - hope you like it! - nini

tagging @prpldahy

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #hansol imagine #hansol fanfic #seventeen hansol #seventeen vernon #vernon chwe #vernon fanfic #vernon #seventeen fanfic #hansol scenario #hansol x reader #seventeen reaction #svt vernon #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt hansol #i am in LOVE with him and this hansol is the only hansol i will accept in fanfics

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transparencyboo · 4 months ago

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A Ghost. Forever.

I've been thinking recently about that strange disconnect to my past I have earned as a trans person. When I was 16 years old I graduated from my old school (as per the Swedish education system), leaving behind over a decade together with classmates I had known for practically my entire life at that point. I bumped into one or two in public during the following year or so, but it's been 15 years since I heard anything from any of them. Contact networks change, people go their separate ways, time moves on, etc. That's a regular part of life.

Still, those connections are formative ones. These were people I used to call friends, although in hindsight I think of them more as mutuals – acquaintances. We didn't share more than broad interests, every now and then we got into fights, some hurt me quite a lot, but in an awkward sense I know a part of my soul is connected to these people through a substantially shared past.

Sometimes I remember them with fondness, other times with anger. And then I realize all I have left of them are frozen snapshots that have remained unchanged since June 2008. I moved on, went out into the world, visited new places, met new people, I never ever returned. Some part of me imagines that I could walk back to our old school, step into one of the classrooms and see their ghosts waiting for me.

"You are late." "Where have you been all this time?" "Now, where were we?"

But I understand that's not true, they too have lived full rich lives ever since our last shared moment. I remember a lot of names, I can search them online and find the traces. Privated Facebook accounts, superficial Linked In pages, the odd Instagram profile. Everyone looks frighteningly adult, like they somehow lived at least ten more years than me. They got old, but I believe they're doing well.

I'm sure one or two of them have shared this curiosity and occasionally peeked at the glimpses of each others lives. Except mine.

All ties to the past have been severed. Many years ago I came out as trans, changed all of my personal info and got a new ID. My old name, my old identity, has been wiped off the face of the Earth. If someone where to look for that person they would find less than nothing. A ghastly absence. Of course, everyone of any importance to me knows about this change. I never disappeared, I am still here. But to the outsiders with nothing more than a faded memory and an outdated name, I must simply have vanished into thin air.

In the beginning, I took relief in this. "Now, no one will ever find me again. I won't have to deal with some awkward school reunion. They can't touch me anymore." But now I'm not so sure. I've changed so much, and discovered so much about myself. The idea that two dozen people are still walking around out there with vividly detailed conceptions of me based on nothing but a long forgotten and rejected past feels wrong. It feels perverted. But that's the price you pay. In exchange for becoming my real self, I allowed those strangers to keep me as a frozen snapshot.

June 2008. 16 years old. Forever.

But does it have to be that way? Can I not mend this? Suddenly I want nothing more in the world. I want to show these people what became of me. How much I grew. Maybe I want to prove myself? I had the grandest adventure, I learned the most about myself, I completed my metamorphosis, no change was as drastic as mine, I won. They become involuntary ambassadors for everything I resent about my old self. I reduce these regular people to demons of all my buried insecurities and bottled up doubt. Little perpetual 16 year old brats. As dehumanized by our separation as I fear myself to be. How I hate them. How I hate that I hate them.

Of course I could solve this. It's laughably simple. I can reach out, try to reestablish contact. I certainly have the means.

"Hello, you might not remember me. We went to school together. I changed my name since then, though. Yes, I'm trans. Yes, I was in the closet even back then. I just wanted someone, anyone, to know. How have you been?"

I seriously thought about this. It's a scary move, I know nothing about how these people are now. Maybe they remember me with contempt as a collage of only their absolute worst memories? Maybe they've grown to be bigots eager to harass the unwitting victim landing in their lap? Maybe they don't remember me at all? Maybe they don't care?

Maybe I don't want to talk to any of these people?

In my mind I quickly narrowed it down to one person who I would feel the most safe and willing to reach out to. The last feasible bridge to my past. The one person I could still imagine being my friend after all these years. I'd known her since preschool. She was always really smart, we were always on good terms, but never really hung out together. We were merely in the same friend group. She was one of the few people I'd stumbled into past graduation. We had sporadically discussed music over MSN. When I was 17 years old she relayed an invitation for me to go to a punk show with her. She had said I was so kind. I neglected the offer. I deeply regret this. Not because I'd expect anything for showing up; anything but, I was already taken. It just felt rude of me. Maybe who I was back then wanted to sever my last connection to the past? Maybe who I am now wants to apologize more than anything? I realize of all the people from my old life, she would have the most unique last impression. As this distant, faceless loner holed up in a dark bedroom. Hopelessly unwilling to do anything at all. To be anything at all.

17 years old. Forever.

I decide it's no good. I don't actually feel strongly about this and I can't imagine she would either. It's been 15 years, any semblance of remorse is long gone. That version of me doesn't exist anymore, that version of her doesn't exist anymore. There is nothing to salvage, nothing to mend. I left all of that behind half my life ago. The past is gone.

I have nothing to say to whoever this person is now.

So I will remain as I was for all of those people. A skewed shadow of the truth. They will never know the real me. It is not my responsibility to reconnect and inform them about what I've been up to. I don't owe them anything. I can't get hung up on my imagination of what imagined specters would imagine me to be. This reflects more about me than anyone else. I am mourning my unfulfilled potential. Projecting it upon the memories that will never go away.

I just fear that one day my old classmates will arrange a school reunion. They'll all find each other with ease, but be stumped by my absence. They'll believe I'm dead. Died young as nothing but their incomplete picture of who I was. Perhaps at least one of them would have the detective knowhow to contact my parents and ask about me, so they could find me, discover my miraculous change and invite me to show who I finally became. I could complete the fragmented part of my childhood and finally illuminate my shadow. I could stop this looming feeling from growing ever larger with each year. But I'm not holding out hope. For all I know this reunion has already taken place. They held a silent moment for my unknown demise and promptly forgot all about me. Without ever knowing who I could've been, who I became.

A ghost. Forever.

/Kiki

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year ago

Note

Free pass for anything you feel like writing

Only one post today. Not sure what's wrong with me rn. But this week is a lot and if I'm not too tired to function I'm crying. So. I tried. Hopefully I can get a good sleep and get back on track

"You wanted to see me Father?" you ask, hovering near the door to his office. A space where you don't want to go. It's dark. And the snarling tiger head on the wall scares you- and makes you feel sad.

"There's my girl," he said waving you in. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. But when he pulls you into a too tight hug and slaps you on the back to hard- you don't want him to stop. You can't remember the last time someone hugged you. Even if it's for show.

"I missed you father," you tell him. You don't mean that either. You miss school. And your cozy little room. You made the quilt that's on your bed- even if it's a little wonky it's warm. And you got to pick your colors.

He lets you go and gestures for you to sit. Taking his chair again, "Your mother tells me your grades were top of the class."

"Thank you-"

"That wasn't praise," he said sternly. "You should be smart but not too smart."

"Father I-"

"I'm sure you expect to go to college."

"I would like to," you admit. "I enjoy my classes and-"

"For science? Math?" he asked archly. And you know this is a trap somehow. You understood science but it bored you- if you said the wrong thing well- it was anyone's guess.

"I really like my art classes and Languages are-"

'Fine fine," he said, mollified. "Just make sure you don't spend so much time on your studies that you don't make friends."

"Yes, Father," you tell him obediently. And when he dismisses you with a grunt and a wave, you flee. Before you can look at the tiger. Or the cigar smoke can cling to your clothes.

_____________

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

Bruce draped his jacket around your shoulders and moved closer to you to block the wind. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," you answer. Giving him a trembling smile, fighting the urge to move closer. You can feel the warmth of him and having the bulk right behind you- even if it's Bruce you feel better.

"I didn't realize you had a history with so many people," Bruce said. "Here I thought you were too busy working."

"I just wanted a friend," you murmur. "I was so alone and I knew what they all said about me. And then after- after I let that boy kiss me and-" You break off with a shiver and take a shaky breath.

And Bruce can't help it. He'd seen the woman. Even if he hadn't heard what you said to her- everyone heard her call you a whore. Which was laughable, honestly. So he wrapped his arms around you gently. Pulling you close. She was removed. But- that didn't mean it hadn't hurt you. You were a sensitive person. "Is what she said-"

"I didn't want her boyfriend. I didn't even know why she wanted her boyfriend. I was just happy she was happy and-"

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "You're not what she said. You're a good person."

"Whores can still be good people," you sigh. "There were a couple that hung out with Jesus."

"How many times did you get your knuckles slapped for that," Bruce said smiling a little.

"Only once. But Sister Natalie got in trouble for it with Mother Superior."

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #arranged!verse2.0

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emberfrostlovesloki · 9 months ago

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Dead Center [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Center (@madneyslifeline) Right and Left (@spencermyangel)

Prompt: Aaron wards off a creepy man from the reader at the shooting range and comes to realize that the reader is dealing with a lot more than just one man making inappropriate advances toward them.

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

Category: angst/comfort

Word Count: 11.5K

Content Warnings: unwanted touch [from multiple men], mention of drinking, guns [used at a shooting range] revenge porn [the reader’s nudes are leaked online] threat of assault [by multiple people (it does not happen)], a hand is placed over reader's mouth and the reader is pinned down [by some creepy men], mention of cheating [happens to the reader], trauma, isolation. If I missed any, please let me know

A/N: Hi loves! Here is another fic based on the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins January/February Writing Challenge. The prompt was “The character learns to navigate their life after a traumatic event.” I just want to give a heads-up that this is a little dark, but the reader is safe at the end and finds some comfort with Aaron. It takes a bit to reveal what happened to the reader, but I hope the build-up is worth it. This is another novel of a fic, but I hope you enjoy it! If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your weekend and thanks for reading. Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. I was so excited to get this out that I didn't edit it like my normal fics. I will go in tomorrow and do a proper edit then.

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/c/e_’s = your color eyes

_u/sf/d_ = up/straight forward/down (depending on your height)

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_y/e/p’s/n_ = your ex-partner’s name (the ex is an ass so add the name of someone you dislike here)

_y/n_ cringed back as the shot rang out. It was so loud that they almost closed their eyes. However, _y/n_ managed to almost hit the target and that was a victory. The sound of other shots at the gun range continued throughout the large space. Even with the headphones on, the noise is distracting. What’s even more distracting is yet another person is tapping _y/n_'s shoulder. _y/n_ was fully aware that they couldn’t shoot for shit. It’s not surprising to anyone at this range. However, their inability with a Glock was not an open invitation for every man in the place to offer advice on their technique. _y/n_ strips off their headphones and turns to look at the next man.

He’s wearing a cowboy hat, jeans, and a belt buckle that’s laughable large. _y/n_ resisted the urge to laugh at that man-wanna-be-cowboy. Before _y/n_ could even get a word out the man said, “Sweetheart, I can’t help but notice you might need a hand with that pistol. I’ve got lots of practice under my belt.” The guy patted his belt as an attempt at a joke, and _y/n_ gave him a weak smile that didn’t reach their eyes. Again, _y/n_ tried to say that they weren’t interested in any help, but the man had moved into their personal space and ran a hand up their arms that was holding the gun. _y/n_ froze instantly. His hand was warm, too warm on their exposed skin. _y/n_ struggled to take a breath, let alone tell him to back off. The man leaned in closer and said, “Now sweetheart, if you just hold the gun like this,” he slid his hand down _y/n_’s arm and to their hand, wrapping around the handle of the gun and their fingers. The guy was so close. _y/n_ could feel his breath on their, neck. The panic was rising like it did now in all situations like this. _y/n_ thought that this might be the incident that broke them. Thankfully someone stepped in just in time before that happened.

Hotch walked into the shooting range and checked in. Once the man at the counter checked his gun and gave him a key for a locker. The worker said, “Lane 10 is open, Mr. Hotchner.” Aaron nodded and took back his ID. He slipped his wallet into his pants pocket and moved to his locker. He put the extra things he had in his pockets in the grey chipping lockers as well as his duffle bag. Before locking it up, he took out his protective headphones and glasses. No matter where he was shooting, as long as it wasn’t on the field, he took all the safety measures he could. He’d nearly lost his hearing once, he wasn’t going to let it happen again. Hotch confidently stepped into the range. He didn’t normally feel the need to blow off steam this way. He didn’t see shooting as an outlet for emotions. He had actually killed people before, more time than he had ever wished. Many of those had been with his sidearm. So shooting guns wasn’t just a fun hobby to him. But he didn’t mind the practice now and then. He was a great shot, but he knew he could improve, and when he had an open Saturday and nothing better to do, he decided he could get a few rounds in. Aaron pulled his headphones over his ears, as he stepped into the range. The familiar sound of fire hit him, and he looked over to lane ten.

He furrowed his brow as there was a man half in his lane and half in lane nine. It was a tall guy and he was standing very close to the person actually in lane nine. Hotch let out a huff and thought for a moment that the guy was the other person’s partner. He saw this sometimes. Men trying to be macho often brought their significant other to shoot for the first time. He often found these guys couldn’t even shoot well. As Hotch got closer to his lane, he became aware that the person in lane nine was incredibly uncomfortable. They looked frozen to the spot and the man was pressed close to them. Not only was he close, but he was running a hand down their arm toward their hand that was barely holding onto the pistol. From the set of the frozen person’s shoulders, Aaron could see the tension in their body. This made Hotch move more quickly. Even if the man in the cowboy hat was their partner, it was clear the gun wielder wasn’t comfortable with what was going on. As he approached the pair, moving to the lane that he had booked. The cowboy turned to look at him with a sour look on his face as his chance to be close to _y/n_ was being interrupted. He scowled at Hotch, but Aaron calmly replied, “I’ve got this lane booked for the next hour. Mind if I use it?” He wasn’t looking for a confrontation, especially not one where everyone was holding a weapon. However, he did want to shoot. He was also interested in seeing if the man kept bothering the stranger next to him. Much to Aaron’s chagrin the man just fully moved into lane nine. Hotch sighed slightly, undid the safety of his gun, and listened as the man said, “Alright baby, now shoot like I just told you and showed you.”

Aaron couldn’t help but look over to see the result. _y/n_ raised the gun. It was shaking in their hands, but they hoped that they shot, badly, that the unwanted guy might finally leave them alone. _y/n_ pointed in their lane and pressed the trigger. They were so far off that the bullet didn’t even hit the target. Not even close. Aaron held back any comments of noise, but the cowboy didn’t and he said, “Baby did you listen to anything that I told you?” It was clear to Aaron that “Baby” hadn’t, and Hotch watched as the guy physically put his hands on their hips and moved them back. It became even more evident that _y/n_ was frozen with fear and just let it happen. The man said, “It’s alright sweetheart, let Dalton show you how it’s done.” Dalton made sure to shoot Aaron a look as he took out his own, overpriced gun and aimed at the blank target. It almost seemed impossible, but his shot was worse than _y/n_’s. There was a small chuckle from _y/n_ behind Dalton, and he turned on his heel. He looked angry, and Hotch stepped forward a bit to stop any confrontation, as _y/n_ shied away from the red-faced man. Dalton turned toward Aaron and placed his hands on his belt as if challenging the Agent to do better. Aaron rarely felt the need to be competitive. He was confident in his abilities. However, when he was given such an easy opportunity, he couldn’t pass it up. Hotch had slipped the safety back on when he wanted to observe the pair next to him, but quickly undid it again, turned toward his target, lined up his shot, and took three perfectly clean shots in the center of his target. Hotch slipped the safety back on and looked at the man. Dalton furrowed his brow and almost said something, but stormed off instead due to embarrassment.

As soon as the creepy guy was gone, _y/n_ relaxed and leaned against the barrier to the shooting field. They felt such a relief at being left alone that they hardly noticed Aaron’s concerned expression. Only after _y/n_ had taken a few breaths did they turn their head to look at the man who had helped them out of such an uncomfortable situation. They had been too panicked and barely noticed him before, but _y/n_ did now. He was tall, As tall as Mr. Cowboy, but standing back a respectful distance. This man looked professional. Like someone who might carry a gun for work. _y/n_ thought that they were reading into the dark-haired stranger too much. _y/n_ realized that they were staring and said softly, “Thank you so much for getting him to go away. I’m sorry he was in your space.” Hotch nodded and watched as _y/n_ seemed to compose themself as they spoke to him. Aaron offered a small smile and replied, “You don’t need to thank me, I think he was more in your space than mine. I’m sorry he was bothering you.” Aaron didn’t want to repeat Dalton’s gross behavior and he just nodded and moved back to his lane and target practice.

_y/n_ felt like saying more to the man next to them, but he’d stepped back. He seemed absorbed in his practice which seemed to hit the mark every time he shot his gun. In some ways that made _y/n_ even more comfortable next to him. He was here for a reason, and that reason didn’t involve bothering them. _y/n_ wasn’t sure if it was their appearance or their inability to shoot a gun, but they had been bothered and offered advice nearly the whole time they had been here. _y/n_ tried to follow the man’s lead and turned back to their target. Although Hotch wasn’t directly paying attention to _y/n_, that didn’t stop him from occasionally looking at them now and then. It was clear that _y/n_ was trying and the next couple of shots at the target got closer to the mark but still didn’t hit the paper sheet. Aaron focused back on his shooting and after a few minutes felt a pair of eyes on him. He knew it was the person next to him. Again, he considered offering more advice but didn’t want to impose or offer help where it wasn’t wanted. He hoped that if _y/n_ wanted help, they’d ask him.

And, as usual, Hotch was right because when he took a small break and took off his earmuffs, _y/n_ turned to him and said in a bit of a louder, more confident voice, “You’re really good with that.” _y/n_’s _y/c/e_’s looked briefly at the gun that fit so naturally in his hand and then back to his face. After a small pause, they asked, “Would you mind if I watched you while you practiced? I might actually learn about something from you.” Hotch smiled and said, “Sure you can. Would you like me to tell you what I’m doing while I do it ?” _y/n_ hadn’t expected the man to care enough to offer his help. They felt like they were imposing already by asking to watch, so being offered a verbal tutorial left like something special. Especially coming from someone as skilled as he was. _y/n_ nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, please that’d be very helpful.” Hotch smiled again and said, “I’m happy to help. I’m Aaron by the way.” _y/n_ gave him a small smile, the first he’d seen on them the whole time they were next to each other. _y/n_ lifted a hand and said, “I’m _y/n_. Nice to meet you.” Hotch replied, “It’s nice to meet you too.” He cleared his throat and continued, “Now, when you’re shooting you need a firm grip on the handle of the gun. It’s going to be loud and there will be blowback from the shot, and if you have a weak grip the aim won’t be good.” This was one of the things that Aaron had noticed off the bat about _y/n_’s shooting. Aaron demonstrated how to properly handle a gun with the safety off. He then stated, “Next you want to make sure your line of sight is directly with the gun and the target. You don’t want your eyes higher or lower than the gun itself. It’s like in baseball or softball when people say to keep your eyes on the ball. Here you keep your eyes on the tip of the gun.” Hotch drew a line from his eyes to the point of his extended weapon and said, “After that, it’s about lining up the shot and then following through with the trigger press. Be confident with it. If you’re not then the shot isn’t going to be good either.”

To demonstrate the things he’d just said, Hotch slipped off the safety of the gun in his hands, lined up the shot, and pressed the cool metal of the trigger. Aaron was so used to the feel of the blowback that he didn’t flinch. It helped that he was trained and strong. He took two more shots to allow _y/n_ to see the process multiple times. _y/n_ nodded and said, “Thank you for explaining it to me. Hopefully, I can at least hit the target once before my time is up.” Aaron smiled and said, “I bet you’ll get it. Just try and relax if you can. Is this your first time shooting a gun?” _y/n_ looked at the ground suddenly self-conscious at being observed in a non-creepy way. _y/n_ looked back up and nodded, saying, “Yeah. I assumed it was pretty obvious.” Hotch let out a small chuckle and said, “Well I’ve met people that have had guns for years, and they still don’t know how to handle them.” For a second Spencer flashed into his mind, but he’d seen other agents, and most of all, cops not be able to shoot for anything and he wanted to reassure _y/n_ that it was okay if they didn’t get it the first time. For some reason, he didn’t assume they were just here for fun. _y/n_ gave a small smile back and said, “Thanks.” They turned back to their lane wanting to use the rest of their time making a real attempt at shooting. _y/n_ did reflect on the fact that the man next to them had said that he worked with people who carried, which meant that he probably carried too which would explain why he was such a good shot.

Aaron returned to his practice as well, only checking _y/n_’s progress once or twice. They were getting better. The last time Aaron checked, _y/n_ had gotten a lot closer to the target. They still hadn’t hit one of the three rings, but they were getting close. _y/n_ only had ten minutes left of their time and were getting annoyed that they hadn’t at least made it to the fifty-point circle. Aaron had put down his gun and even though _y/n_ didn’t think guns or carrying was for them after this encounter, they still wanted to at least hit the target. With little time left and no one else to turn to, _y/n_ looked at Aaron again and asked, “Sorry, to bother you again, Aaron, but could you just show me how to do this?” Hotch had noticed _y/n_ get more and more frustrated and he wondered if they would reach a breaking point. He’d seen people crack at much smaller things.

He could tell _y/n_ carried some tension in their shoulder that he couldn’t place. He couldn’t really place _y/n_ at all. They didn’t seem to belong in a place like this. But when _y/n_ asked for help again, he was happy to offer it to make them feel comfortable in a space that could be intimidating. He stepped forward, just a little and replied, “Sure. Do you mind if I help by guiding your hands a bit?” He didn’t want to touch them without getting their permission first. _y/n_ nodded. They hadn’t trusted any of the men who had offered to “help” them up to this point. But Aaron hadn’t pried at all and he asked before touching them. Plus, _y/n_ knew that he would need to. _y/n_ nodded their consent, and Hotch took a step closer into their personal space. He said reassuringly, “Alright, hold you’re gun out.” _y/n_ did as he asked, and pointed at the dreaded target. Hotch took their hand that was gripping the gun in his. His hand covered theirs and he steadied their arm with his. He then got on eye level with them, still providing space where he could, and made sure the gun was in line with the target. He asked softly, “Can you see the target and the tip of the gun together?” _y/n_ turned their face to him and said, “I can.” Aaron nodded and dropped his hands from their body for an instant, put his headphones back on, and then moved back to where he just was next to _y/n_. He used his left hand to wrap around _y/n_’s he could feel the trigger under their hand and he lined up the shot again. He took a breath and helped _y/n_ press the trigger. The bullet hit dead center.

_y/n_’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. They snapped it back shut as Aaron moved a step back and dropped his hands from their hand and shoulder. _y/n_ suddenly missed his presence. _y/n_ was aware that they hadn’t made the shot, that it had been all Aaron. Hotch noticed and said, “Now, _y/n_ pretend I’m right there with you like I just was.” _y/n_ nodded and aimed the gun at the target again. This time it felt much easier. They could feel where Aaron’s hands had been, how he’d looked at the tip of the gun and the target. _y/n_ let out a breath and considered how he had said to try and relax. When _y/n_ was focused in, they pressed the trigger, and for once, didn’t flinch back. Much to _y/n_’s surprise, this bullet had hit the 25-point circle on the target. _y/n_ smiled slightly, slipped the safety back on the gun, and pulled off their headphones. Sure it wasn’t the center like Aaron seemed incapable of not missing, but it was something. They were proud of that and it was a good place to stop. _y/n_ didn’t want to push their luck. Aarou could sense the shift in _y/n_ and he said, “Good job. I knew you could do it. Are you heading out?” _y/n_ nodded and stated, “Yeah, my time’s up and I’ll end on a high note. Thanks for all the help. I wouldn’t have gotten that shot without you.” Hotch gave a small nod and said, “I’m happy to help. Have a good rest of your day.” _y/n_ smiled and gave a small wave as they moved to the exit. Hotch couldn’t help but notice as Dalton and another man he’d noticed staring at _y/n_ also holstered their guns and made their way from the far side of the room to the exit as well. A small part of Hotch’s brain said that it could be a coincidence, but the profiler in him had him quickly holster his gun and walk to catch up with _y/n_. Outside he leaned against the door, as he watched _y/n_ check in the rented gun and then move to a locker. _y/n_ pulled out their things and grabbed their car keys from their tote before slinging the bag over their shoulder.

Just before Dalton moved out of the door, Hotch approached _y/n_ and said, “Hey, _y/n_ you forgot something in your lane.” _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “Did I?” They didn’t remember leaving anything in there. _y/n_ turned toward Aaron and he leaned forward and softly said, “Act natural, you have a few ‘admirers’ that seem to be following you.” Hearing Hotch’s words _y/n_ seemed to freeze up again. Aaron took a breath to remind them to remain calm. _y/n_ looked _u/sf/d_ at him and asked, “Is it the cowboy dude?” Hotch briefly turned his gaze to the left and Dalton and the other man were both standing with arms folded by the gun counter. Aaron nodded and added “And a man in all black. Do you know them?” _y/n_ swallowed and tried to stay calm as they said, “Not until today. They wouldn’t leave me alone in there.” Hotch nodded in understanding and said, “Alright. Do you have all of your things? I can walk you to your car if you want. Make sure you’re not followed?” _y/n_ nodded. They wouldn’t have normally accepted such an offer, but because they had built a rapport with Aaron already and he seemed trustworthy, _y/n_ accepted. Hotch moved to their side and let _y/n_ lead the way out into the bright parking lot.

Aaron ensured the two men didn’t get close to _y/n_ or their car. _y/n_ unlocked the vehicle and Hotch opened the door for them. When _y/n_ was seated and the keys were in the ignition, they turned to him and said, “Thanks again, again, Sorry for all the inconveniences I’ve caused you today, Aaron.” Hotch brushed off the thanks and said, “There’s no need to thank me, _y/n_. I hope you have a safe rest of your day.” He gave them a final parting smile, closed the door for them, and watched as _y/n_ drove away. Once _y/n_ was out of the parking lot, he turned and frowned at Dalton and the other men who had made _y/n_ feel unsafe. It was ironic as a gun range should be a place where safety should be ensured. Both men frowned into the sun and moved back inside, blocked from any further advances. Hotch also moved inside but chose not to shoot anymore. He signed out and moved back home. He’d had enough excitement for the day and he wasn’t keen on having any further contact with Dalton or the other men at the range. Given how _y/n_ had been treated here, he didn’t expect to see them here again, but the thought of what had drawn them here in the first place stuck as he made his way home.

Hotch hadn’t expected to see _y/n_ again, but he did and in a place about as opposite from the shooting range as he could imagine. It was a few weeks later and the weather had turned from the Winter chill to the beginnings of the rejuvenation of Spring. Fresh buds and leaves were shooting from the trees that had been bare last month. During this time, Aaron liked to take Jack out to one of the local Farmer’s Markets near his place. Jack always loved getting some lemonade and a little snack as they walked around the stalls and people-watched. Whether it was his son emulating his father or just a current hobby, Jack had picked up making observations on people while Aaron was around and he found it adorable to see his son, “profile” people from afar. It was early afternoon, and Jack had his drink and Aaron was looking for a decent coffee while Jack walked on tip-toes around the stalls for a cookie or something sweet. Hotch made sure to keep his pace soft so Jack could keep up with him.

Everything seemed to be calm. People were strolling about, the park where the Market was being held was bustling with families and kids on roller skates. Again, it seemed like a perfectly safe place. That illusion was shattered when a slightly louder voice from in front of Jack and Aaron said, “Hey, she clearly said she wasn’t interested, so back off already.” A lower male voice repeated in just as loud a voice, “No one asked you your opinion so keep your nose out of our business.” From both people’s tone of voice, the situation didn’t sound good and Hotch turned to Jack quickly and said, “Alright, Buddy, time to come up.” Jack nodded happily and moved into his dad’s arms. Aaron picked up his son and moved through the crowd to find the source of the disturbance. Aaron saw a man, a few inches shorter than him standing with his hands on his hips in front of two people. The first he recognized as _y/n_ from a few weeks ago. The other was new to him.

Aaron didn’t want to cause a scene for everyone, especially not with Jack here, so he called out over the noise, “_y/n_, Jamie, there you are. Sorry parking the car took so long, it was a mess out there. At hearing a familiar half-familiar voice, _y/n_ looked over at Aaron and relaxed immediately. It was surprising, yet calming to see him again. At least this time they weren’t the ones that needed protection. At least not at the start. _y/n_ had gotten involved in the situation precisely because of the gun range incident. _y/n_ had decided that guns weren’t for them at all, but having someone stand up for them had felt good. They felt safe for the first time in over a month. So when _y/n_ saw a young woman being followed and then spoken to in a demeaning and intimidating manner, they felt like they should step in as the man at the range had. The dude didn’t seem that intimidating until he did. When he raised his voice and moved toward the woman, _y/n_ stepped between them and told him to “back the fuck off,” he didn’t take it well. _y/n_ was proud of standing their ground and keeping the guy away, even if it did mean backing up. However, even though _y/n_ hadn’t fallen into a panic as they had expected in the situation, they were immediately relieved when Aaron came into view.

_y/n_ caught onto Hotch’s plan quickly, took the woman’s hand, and said, “Hey, Aaron. Yeah, we were worried about you.” To make it look extra convincing to the man, _y/n_ leaned over to Jack and smiled, saying, “Hey, kiddo. How are you?” As the group moved down the street, the woman followed along with _y/n_ and Hotch watched as her face began to relax. He looked behind him and watched as the man took a few steps forward. Aaron shot him a glare and the unnamed dude halted in his tracks. In instances like these, Aaron was glad he had a look that could freeze lava. When he turned back to the pair, he made sure to relax his facial muscles. He didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. When the trio plus Jack got to a quiet space, _y/n_ turned to the woman and said, “Are you, alright darling? Did he bother you at all?” The woman sniffled a little and said, “He was just being a…” She stopped herself from saying an adult insult as she remembered there was a kid here and said instead, “... a major creep. Thanks for stepping in. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do that.”

The woman smiled at _y/n_, Aaron and Jack. Hotch smiled but knew that he hadn’t done the hard work this time. _y/n_ also smiled and said, “I understand.” Their voice dropped and _y/n_ added, “Something bad happened to me a month ago, so I couldn’t just watch as that dude followed you.” There was a small pause as the woman put a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder. They perked up a bit and asked, “Are you waiting for someone, or did you come here by yourself? I’m _y/n_ by the way.” The woman smiled and said, “Ainsley. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m waiting for my husband. He’s the one taking forever” she said and smiled over at Aaron. As Ainsley said this, however, her eyes shifted past Aaron’s shoulder and she rolled them. She looked back to the pair and said, “Well speak of the devil. He’s over there looking at the bread stand again. He keeps on forgetting he’s allergic to gluten bless him. Thank y’all so much for the help. Let me stop him before he buys stuff he can’t even eat.” The woman quickly moved over to her husband and both Aaron and _y/n_ watched as Ainsley moved to the bread stall. _y/n_ couldn’t help but laugh at the argument the couple seemed to be having and Aaron joined in. Although both found it slightly funny, they also realized it wasn’t a good situation before.

Hotch turned to _y/n_ and said, “That was good of you to do _y/n_. I’m sorry to hear you went to something bad before.” _y/n_ dropped their eyes at the memory and said, “It was the least I could do.” _y/n_ didn’t feel like reflecting on why they felt like they needed to be able to protect themself and others. To lighten the mood, _y/n_ looked at Jack and his drink and said, “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself, I’m _y/n_ and you are?” _y/n_ held a hand out to Jack and his eyes went wide at the attention. Aaron turned his gaze to his son and said, “Jack, what do we say when we meet someone new?” Jack looked at his dad and then _y/n_ and said softly, “Hi!” The little boy also gave a small wave with his words. Hotch chuckled and said, “And what else do we say?” Jack smiled and replied, “My name’s Jack, what’s yours?”

_y/n_ smiled and chuckled softly before repeating their name. Aaron’s smile widened at his son’s practicing his social skills. He could see _y/n_ look from Jack to his left hand and then to him. Aaron shifted his son to his other side and said, “This is my son by the way.” _y/n_ smiled and nodded, saying, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Jack. And it’s good to see you again too, Aaron. I hope you’ve been well since I’ve last seen you?” Hotch’s mind flashed to the last two cases. They had been hard, but _y/n_ didn’t need to hear about that, so he said, “It’s been good.” Hotch caught sight of the cold brew in their hand and he asked, “Can I ask where you got the coffee? I haven’t seen any around here yet.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “It’s a bit hidden. The stall is at the very back behind the crepe people. I might ask Jack where he got his lemonade. This heat is starting to get to me.” Hotch chuckled as _y/n_ half looked at him and half looked at Jack. It was clear that they were trying to include Jack in the conversation, but knew that Aaron was the one with the answer they wanted. Hotch replied, “It’s in the opposite direction as the crepe guy. Just down this way and to the left.”

Hotch could see why _y/n_ was hot in their _y/f/c_ long-sleeve shirt and form-fitting black pants. He had to move his eyes up before he got distracted. He didn’t want to start being the creep in this situation. _y/n_ didn’t even notice his distraction and said, “Okay. Thanks for the scoop. I think I’ll head over there or I might melt in this heat. It was nice to see you again. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later, maybe?” Jack squirmed in Hotch’s arms and he let his son down, saying, “Sure thing, _y/n_. I’ll see you around.” Jack was pulling at Aaron’s arm and _y/n_ let them both go with a wave. They knew it was unlikely that they had seen each other again. They weren’t expecting a third chance encounter. Little did either of them know the last meeting before Aaron found out what had happened to _y/n_ would come sooner than either of them imagined.

The rest of that afternoon unfolded uneventfully for both Aaron and _y/n_. Both got their drinks and then left without seeing the other again. On the drive home, Jack looked at his dad from his car seat and asked, “Daddy, who was that person today at the park?” Aaron looked at his son in the rearview mirror and tried to think of how to word his response. “Aquanitice wasn’t a word or topic he fully thought Jack could get yet, so he opted to say, “Well _y/n_ is a friend of mine and they were doing a good thing, and I wanted to make sure they were okay.” Jack nodded slowly and then asked, “Are they a friend like Uncle Rossi or Aunt Emily?” Hotch chuckled slightly at the affection Jack gave the team and clarified, “Not that close of a friend, Buddy. But we can learn something from _y/n_ today, and that’s when you see something bad or scary happening you should try and help. That doesn’t always mean getting into the situation, sometime it means finding someone to help, but you should always help people where you can. Okay, Jack?”

Jack nodded happily. The inquisitive child that he was, Jack had to ask, “What was dangerous back there, Daddy?” Hotch let out a nod, knowing this wasn’t a conversation Jack was ready for. Aaron replied, “I’ll tell you when you’re older, okay, son?” Jack nodded and then seemed to get absorbed by finishing his lemonade and looked out of the window at the scenery. As the car ride lulled into silence, Aaron considered how some spaces that should be safe, spaces that were safe for him simply weren’t for other people. Facts like that always made him sad. He wished reality wasn’t like that. Hotch reflected back on one of the things _y/n_ had said that afternoon, Their words to Ainsley about “something bad happening to them” echoed through his head. He assumed this bad thing wasn’t just the incident he was involved in. He tried to imagine what had happened to _y/n_ but realized it was pointless. Unless _y/n_ directly told him about the bad thing, which he didn’t expect to happen, he was just going to have to let it go. This thought stuck with Hotch as he made it home. As Aaron and Jack entered the apartment, he promised to teach his son that it was important to keep people safe and to model that behavior like he had to today when he could. Hotch knew he had the privilege of training and a gun to keep him safe, and this would come in handy when he saw _y/n_ for the third time.

The third time Aaron met _y/n_ was not that long after the last. The team was celebrating the end of a long and violent kidnapping case and Emily’s two-year anniversary of joining the team. The BAU had gone to a nicer bar in D.C. thanks to the fact that Rossi was paying, everyone stayed up a little later than they normally would. It helped that it was a Friday night and the bar was full of people to watch and loud enough for them to talk about what they wanted without being overheard. After four rounds and some good conversation, everyone moved out while Rossi paid the tab. Spencer, JJ, and Penelope had parked to the right while Aaron, Derek, and Emily, along with Rossi had found parking in a garage on the left side of the street. One problem that everyone always complained about when it came to going to D.C. was the parking. It was always terrible. The BAU split into two groups after saying their goodbyes. Hotch’s trio moved down the half-busy street. Some bars had people lining up to get in while others seemed empty.

Aaron was having a conversation with Emily and paying attention to what she was saying, while Derek watched what was happening on the street. He noticed something unsettling happening in front of them. On the darker side of the street which was almost empty, Morgan noticed a few yards ahead a group of three men manhandling and herding someone forward and toward the stone wall and an alleyway that was even darker than the street. Derek was too far away yet to hear what was being said, but when they got a few feet closer Morgan caught something from the person being pushed: “I told you that ad was fake, just leave me alone. God get your hands off of me.” Derek watched as one of the men moved a hand over the person’s mouth and pushed them forward. This was when Derek tapped Aaron urgently and said, “Situation at 1:00 o’clock.” Hotch’s head snapped up and he saw what was happening in the gloom ahead.” A rush of worry passed through him as he noticed _y/n_ as the one being towed by three men larger than them. Hotch looked at Morgan and both men moved into a sprint down the road. Emily followed closely behind, now noticing what her other two teammates had.

_y/n_ tried to thrash and kick those holding them against the cold wall, but they were pinned on either side, unable to scream. The man in front of them has his hands at _y/n_'s waistband while his friend covers their mouth. _y/n_ flinches as gruff hands move under their shirt, working up their torso. _y/n_ tried to fight, but it was no good. As the violation continued and their clothes were pulled away from their body, y/n_ accepted the fact that this would happen. No one had listened to them. Not the police, not Craigslist support. They tried to blank their mind out as much as possible at what was happening to them, so when the man in front of them was pulled away suddenly, they slumped forward not sure what was happening._y/n_ hadn’t even heard Aaron shout out, “Federal Agents,” as he and Morgan entered the alleyway.

Hotch and Derek got to the site first and both men watched for a split second at what was happening. They both needed to make sure that none of the men who had _y/n_ pinned down was armed. When they noticed the men didn’t seem armed, they sprung into action. Hotch shouted “Federal Agents,” and Morgan tore the man in front of _y/n_ off of them. Morgan swung the man to the ground and pinned his arm behind his back while his friends ran off down the alleyway, up the side of a dumpster, and over the short wall dividing one back street from another. Hotch watched for a moment torn between following the men and making sure _y/n_ was alright. It only took a microsecond for him to know that he would stay with _y/n_. Hotch ignored what the man on the ground was saying as he approached _y/n_ with palms open and out to show he wasn’t a threat. _y/n_ was slowly sliding down the wall, and Aaron noticed the back of their shirt rising behind them. Hotch caught _y/n_ before they hit the ground. He could see they were in shock. Who wouldn't be after such a situation?

As he guided them with his strong hands down to the ground, Emily rounded the corner and took in the situation. Morgan looked at Emily and said, “Can you sit on him or something? Prentiss nodded and she took his place. She painfully pinned the man’s arm behind his back to stop him from moving and Derek stood up. Aaron knew that Morgan wanted to try and find the other two men who had made a run for it. It was in Derek’s nature to take action, so when Hotch looked up at Derek, he said, "Follow those guys" It didn't take more than that for Morgan to take off running. Now Emily had the pleasure of the man below her shout out, “What the fuck are you doing. That bitch asked us to do this. They asked us. What do you guys not get about that? Like I said to the other guy I’ll show you the ad online if you just let me get my phone from my pocket. Em scoffed and replied, “Fat chance pal. Generally when someone is fighting you and you have to pin them to a wall that’s not what I call enthusiastic consent. Now if I were you, I’d shut up until the police get here.”

Hotch overheard the conversation as he gently tapped _y/n_'s face lightly to try and bring them back. Aaron didn’t have to look at Emily as calling the police and 9-1-1. His attention snapped back to _y/n_ as they started thrashing slightly, fighting his hold on their shoulder. Aaron rocked on his heels and moved his hand to _y/n_’s as their breaths came raggedly at the new contact. Hotch made sure his face was in view as he squeezed _y/n_’s hand to match his breath as he said, “_y/n_, it’s Aaron, from before. I need you to take some deep breaths for me.” _y/n_ could hear a comforting tenor voice and felt their hand get enveloped in a larger, warm one. This was not the invasive touch from before. It took _y/n_ a few minutes before their mind fully came back to their body. When it did, _y/n_ turned their head and saw a familiar face. They gave a tiny squeeze of acknowledgment back to Aaron. Their breath was still rapid, and _y/n_ struggled to speak from the stress and adrenaline coursing through them. All _y/n_ could do was just make a little sound from the back of their throat. Hotch leaned forward and ran a hand over their forehead, pushing a loose strand of hair away from their face, He knelt on the ground and said reassuringly, “You’re doing good, _y/n_. You’re safe now. Just try and breathe and relax for me. Can you do that?” _y/n_ nodded and tried to follow his instructions.

They watched and breathed along with Aaron taking a moment to look over at Emily and the man on the ground. Hotch shifted to block _y/n_’s view so they couldn’t see the man clearly. He had finally shut up, and for that, Hotch was grateful. After a few minutes, the paramedics came and evaluated _y/n_’s physical and emotional state. Hotch was annoyed that the police took five minutes after 9-1-1 to arrive. While _y/n_ was being evaluated, Aaron provided the details of what had happened. He gave a description of the other two assailants and the fact that another federal agent was pursuing them right now. The pair of cops asked him a few questions but didn’t seem that interested in his responses. Hotch shifted his weight and folded his arms over his chest. He wasn’t impressed with either of the men’s attitudes. He took a quick moment to memorize their badge numbers as they moved to Emily’s side. One hauled the grounded man up and toward their cruiser while the other interviewed Prentiss with a similar laissez-faire tone. While this happened, Hotch looked over to _y/n_. They seemed to be back to a more normal state but they had a shock blanket on and a pressure cuff on their arm. Hotch looked around to see if Morgan was back, but he wasn’t. Aaron then texted the rest of the team. He didn’t say they needed to come. The scene was busy enough as it was, he just let them know that a “situation” had unfolded and that he might call or text them if he needed something. When the rest of the team sounded off on the chat, he thanked them and clicked off his phone.

Morgan returned a few minutes later looking angry. Hotch looked up at him, and Derek shook his head no. As they began to chat about the chase that hadn’t ended up with the fit agent finding the other two men, Aaron noticed that the cops had approached _y/n_ in the back of the ambulance. Morgan noticed Hotch’s lack of attention caught Derek’s attention and he turned to look and listen to the quiet conversation happening near the street. Whatever the cops were saying was indistinguishable from the noise of the cars moving down the street, but both agents noticed how uncomfortable _y/n_ looked. They had their arms holding each other in a self-soothing gesture. They didn’t look comforted by what the men were saying either. The conversation also seemed to be too short to get any real information from _y/n_. One of the cops moved back toward the cruiser with their empty notepad out while the other approached Morgan. Aaron slipped past the officer and toward _y/n_. One of the paramedics was taking off the cuff on _y/n_’s arm and Hotch looked from _y/n_ to the man and asked, “Could you give us a few moments alone?”

The man nodded, placed the medical device back where belonged, and then moved away to give them some space. Before asking _y/n_ any serious questions, he just checked in saying, “Are you feeling alright, _y/n_? Are you in any pain?” _y/n_ met his gaze and then looked down at the pavement below them. After a moment of silence and a breath, _y/n_ replied, “The medic gave me something to numb everything a bit. The nerves and stuff. So I’m not in any physical pain at least.” Hotch clenched his jaw knowing that _y/n_ was most likely in emotional turmoil at the moment. Even though it was going to be hard, he hoped he could provide some comfort and reassurance to _y/n_ that he would make sure they were safe. But in order for him to do that, he needed the full story. He took a breath and introduced himself again, this time fully. Aaron leaned a bit closer and said, “It’s good to hear that they gave you something. Would you be willing to talk to me for a minute? I’m a federal agent, and I’d like to be able to help you if you’re willing.” He pulled out his badge and showed it to _y/n_. He didn’t flash it like he normally did at cops or other agents. He gave _y/n_ plenty of time to look at it. In _y/n_’s brain, things started making more sense about the man they’d run into often. Why he was so good with a gun? How confident he was in stressful situations, and why the other men had run away when he got there. _y/n_ seemed mesmerized by the card but snapped their eyes back to his deep brown ones.

_y/n_ realized that they were focusing on only one thing at a time in order to not have to think about what was not happening. If that was the case, it might as well be Agent Aaron Hotchner. He was comforting and certainly not hard on the eyes. _y/n_ released a breath and nodded yes. The small rapport they had built with the man in front of them made _y/n_ feel safe enough to speak with Aaron. Hotch registered their consent and he thought about how to word his first question. He knew that with victims of trauma, specific questions were better than general ones. Something like “What happened,” could send _y/n_ into a spiral or unable to answer. Aaron decided to start from the beginning and move to tonight’s events in order. He asked gently, “The last time I saw you, at the farmers market, you said that something bad had happened to you. Could you tell me what that was?” _y/n_ looked down at their hands. They felt like saying “Nothing.” _y/n_ had felt like saying nothing for the last thirty-three days, but nothing hadn’t helped them, so _y/n_ resolved to tell Aaron the truth. Raising their eyes back to his, _y/n_ saw the compassion and care in Hotch’s gaze and it gave them the strength to quietly say, “It’s kind of a long story…” Aaron nodded his head no and said, “Not to me. I’ve got all night. Take your time.” _y/n_ nodded and looked at Aaron’s hands instead of him as they said, “I was dating a guy. It was pretty on and off. It was a mistake, we didn’t have the same beliefs or interests. So when I found out he was cheating on me I broke it off. I thought he felt the same way about me as I felt about him. I thought I was doing him a favor by cutting him free.

As it turns out he was very invested in me and he got incredibly angry when I told him it was over. He threatened to hurt himself if I did this to him. I told him that wasn’t true and that he was too arrogant to go through with something like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it was true. He’s a baby and he’s never had to do anything for himself before. As it turned out he ended up just hurting me instead.” _y/n_ looked briefly at Aaron to see if he was still listening. Again, they hadn’t been before and _y/n_ was surprised as his warm gaze was still as attentive as ever. Hotch gave a little nod for _y/n_ to continue. _y/n_ moved their gaze to the wall just to the left of his ear and continued, “So he left and everything was quiet for a week. Then one day one of my friends sent me a link saying I had to see something.” _y/n_ picked at their nail, with eyes downcast. Hotch assumed it was a tell for embarrassment for them. His core clenched for what was about to come. He could tell it wasn’t good. Already had negative feelings toward whoever this guy was. _y/n_ finally said, “I clicked the link and it took me to an adult site. My ex had leaked the nudes I’d sent him a few months back. It turned out he put them all over the net. To as many sites as he could think of. I’d been told so many times not to send nudes because of revenge porn and stuff, but I never thought it would happen to me. Not to this scale. So that was horrible and I stayed up for two days emailing the sites and I called the police and they said they’d start a report or something. I was mortified, but the next day some guy I’d never seen before came to my door and said he was there about the ad.”

Alarm bells were ringing in Aaron’s head because the three men earlier tonight had been speaking of an ad too. _y/n_ didn’t see the concern and anger on his face as they were too embarrassed to look him in the face as they said, “Of course, I didn’t know what he was talking about and said he had the wrong house. The guy got defensive and the ad said for sure this was the right address. I wanted him to leave me alone so I asked to see the ad. I was sure it was a mistake or something and maybe I could point him in the right direction. He pulled up Craigslist and showed me his phone. My… my ex had made an account pretending to be me. He’s posted an ad saying that I lived alone and had a sexual fantasy about being sexually assaulted. He’d put my picture up and my address and even times when I was normally home.”

Aaron watched as _y/n_ struggled more and more to get the words out. He his heart ached that such a violation had been done to _y/n_. He also felt like throttling the man who had done this. Who had thought of something so terrible and gone through with it? He moved a hand to _y/n_’s and gently brushed his fingertips over theirs. He wanted to offer some comfort. _y/n_ looked at their right hand and grabbed onto Aaron’s hand tightly, anchoring themself to his strength. _y/n_ swallowed thickly and said, “When the words registered I just broke down and the guy got real worried. He actually made sure I was okay. I explained it was all a mistake. Just a terrible prank from a friend. He apologized and left. When I finally got it together I emailed Craigslist and then called the support number. I got rerouted about twenty times and I gave up when I was put on hold for the seventh time. I called the cops and they said the same thing as last time. That they’d look into it; make a report. The ad stayed up and guys kept showing up. I told them all it was a mistake but some of them didn’t take it that way.”

Aaron clenched his jaw and spoke for the first time, asking, “Did anything happen? Did anyone hurt you?” His eyes scanned _y/n_ like he’d be able to see if she’d been attacked. _y/n_ found his gaze and said, “Not really. Not until tonight. Last week there was a guy that didn’t take no for no in my driveway but I was close to my car and got inside and locked it before he started running. That was when I called the cops again.” Hotch furrowed his brow. Law enforcement's response so far to _y/n_’s situation had been mediocre at best. That was demonstrated tonight as well. He cleared his throat so he didn’t sound angry at _y/n_ and asked, “And what did they do?” _y/n_ looked at him and said, “They came by and gave the guy a warning and told him not to come back. That was about it.” Aaron clenched his jaw so tight that he thought his teeth might shatter.

Aaron couldn’t help but ask in disbelief, “Why are they treating you so dismissively? Even tonight it looked like they didn’t care.” Aaron had asked the question aloud in frustration and as a hypothetical. So when _y/n_ responded his eyes snapped to theirs. This was the part that _y/n_ hated as they said, “My ex was a cop. Well, part-time cop until he quit because he didn’t like the night shift that they gave him. But he certainly loved waving a gun around and bossing people around too. His job should have been my first red flag, but I was sad and he gave me attention. I was such an idiot.” Aaron nodded his head no and said, “You weren’t an idiot, _y/n_. You were hurting and someone took advantage of that. That’s not your fault.” At hearing his words, and being believed, _y/n_ couldn’t hold in the emotions anymore and put their head in their hands and started to cry large hot tears. Hotch moved forward and protectively put his arms around them. _y/n_ moved their head to his shoulder and kept crying. Aaron placed a hand on their back and just waited. Sometimes words were unneeded and he felt like this was one of those times.

After a few minutes and when _y/n_ had stilled and the tears had gone Hotch asked softly, still holding them, “And tonight? Were those men responding to the ad?” Aaron felt _y/n_ nod into his shoulder and _y/n_ said, “Yeah. I was just taking a walk and they were at the door banging on it. By the time they saw me, it was too late. I tried to tell them the situation like everyone else but they wouldn’t have it, so I ran. I thought they’d stop once I got to a place with more people but they just kept following. Thank God you were here.” Hotch questioned very much if God had anything to do with such cruelty, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he patted _y/n_’s back before pulling back to look at them. Aaron ran a thumb under _y/n_’s eye, catching the last of the tears and brushing it on his button-down. Aaron looked at _y/n_ sincerely as he said, “I’m so sorry that happened to you. No one deserves to be treated like that.” Hotch was more than sad, he was enraged, but he didn’t show it for _y/n_’s sake. He was going to find this guy and make sure he got what he deserved for trying to ruin _y/n_’s life. For getting away with what he had.

Aaron was also going to be filing a complaint to the District Attorney, whom he had on speed dial about how law enforcement was trying to cover for a criminal who didn’t even work for them anymore. Hotch took _y/n_’s hands softly and asked, “Can you tell me the name of your ex? I want to make sure you’re safe. Not only from him but from anyone who might come and try and hurt you.” Aaron knew this was a big ask. A huge ask, but it was needed if he intended to help them. After a few moments of silence, _y/n_ looked at him. Really looked at him. If there was anyone who had shown to act so far, it had been him, almost a stranger. But that feeling of safeness returned and _y/n_ said, “His name’s _y/e/p’s/n_.” Hotch nodded and said sincerely, “Thank you. I’m going to go and make a few calls. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do you need someone to be here with you?” _y/n_ nodded their head no and said, “I’ll be fine as long as you’re close.” _y/n_ didn’t want to sound so pathetic, but it was true. Aaron understood and replied, “I’ll be in view, I promise.” _y/n_ nodded, relieved that he didn’t seem upset at such a silly ask.

Aaron moved toward Derek and Emily who were both talking in soft tones. As Hotch passed one of the police officers he frowned and asked, “What’s the name of your Cheif of Police?” The befuddled and bored-looking LEO replied with the officer’s name like he didn’t care. Aaron let out a huff and moved past the man and toward his team members. Both Emily and Derek looked at him and registered that he was unhappy. Morgan asked, “What happened?” Hotch responded, “I’ll tell you in a moment. Prentiss, can you call Garcia and ask her to look up a name: _y/e/p’s_n_? I want everything on him.” Emily nodded and Derek looked at Hotch with probing eyes. Hotch stated, “I need to call the Attorney General, will you watch those two officers and make sure they give _y/n_ some space?” At hearing the AG being brought up Derek knew this was important and he nodded and moved closer to the ambulance blocking _y/n_ from the sight of the police car and men talking inside. Hotch quickly left a message and then checked in with Emily. Prentiss assured him that Garcia was already on it. Hotch thanked her and moved back toward _y/n_. The medic was speaking to _y/n_ as he approached.

Aaron moved forward to see what was going on. He looked at _y/n_ and they filled him in saying, “I’m good to go. They’re not taking me.” Hotch looked at _y/n_ and the paramedic who nodded that that was correct. Aaron looked back at _y/n_ and asked, “Are you going home from here? Do you need someone to take you?” _y/n_ managed a small smile at the kindness he was showing them and replied, “I’ve called one of my friends that live close by. I’m going to stay at her house tonight. Maybe I’ll go home tomorrow.” Aaron nodded in understanding and said, “Okay. I’m going to look into what’s happened. I’ll keep you updated if that’s alright?” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I’d like that. Can I give you my number or something?” Hotch nodded and said, “Yes. I’d appreciate that.”

Aaron slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet where he kept a few business cards. He flipped one to the back and added his cell number before handing it to _y/n_ saying, “Here’s my office number and my cell. If you feel unsafe if someone tries to come to your door again you can call me and I’ll make sure someone comes and gets them away from you. And I’ll stay here with you until your friend shows up.” _y/n_ felt like they could cry again but held it together and replied, “Thank you so much. Sorry if I messed up your night, or you getting home to your son.” Aaron couldn’t help but give a small smile at _y/n_’s memory of Jack. He replied, “Jack’s at his mom’s tonight. You’re not inconveniencing me _y/n_. I want to make sure you’re safe. That’s what’s important to me. Even though it felt impossible in a case like this after everything _y/n_ had been through, they believed him and just sat in the comfort of someone who made them feel safe for the first time in a very long time. Eventually _y/n_’s friend came and _y/n_ went with them. Hotch wrapped up with the officers, paramedics, and Emily and Derek after which he headed home.

The following day he got the report from Garcia. He also asked her to find the ad on Craigslist take it off the internet and trace the IP address. He also mentioned the revenge porn and Penelope looked as horrified as he had felt when _y/n_ heard about it from _y/n_ Garcia promised to take down an images she could find of _y/n_ as soon as possible. Later that day Hotch got a call back from the Attorney General and he filled the man in on the Police situation. General Miyares promised to look into the situation. At the end of the day, Hotch texted _y/n_ that things were in progress and that the ad had been removed since noon that afternoon. He filled them in on some of the other details too. _y/n_ thanked him profusely over text which he brushed off. Aaron didn’t think too much about _y/n_ until a week later when her ex was arrested for a litany of crimes from assault and battery, to money laundering and fraud. Aaron happened to be on _y/n_’s side of town when he found out about the arrest and he felt like he should call _y/n_ to see if they had heard and if they were doing okay.

He dialed their number and after a few rings, they picked up. There was a hesitation before _y/n_ said, “Hey, Aaron. How are you?” Hotch wondered why he heard hesitation in their voice but answered honestly, “I’m alright? Are you doing okay? Have you heard the news?” After a moment, _y/n_ replied, “I just heard. My friend sent me an article about it. I’m trying to be okay. I haven’t gotten out much since I’ve last seen you.” Hotch could fully understand why _y/n_ would want to isolate. Even after the ad had been taken down, just getting out the door must be a challenge. Aaron asked gently, “Have you thought about any added security measures like you mentioned last week?” _y/n_ replied faster this time saying, “Yes. I bought a ring camera and an extra bolt for the door but haven’t had them installed. I called a guy but when he showed up I kind of freaked out. I’ve been too embarrassed to ask anyone else.” Hotch’s heart gave a little tug at how scary any man showing up at their door would be for them. Aaron had an idea and he simply said, “Listen. I don’t want to push or anything, but I’m in your area. I could come over and install those things for you if you like, _y/n_? But only if you wanted me to.” There was another silence and _y/n_ replied, “You’re not busy?” Aaron smiled and said, “No, I’m not busy.”

Twenty minutes later Hotch parked outside _y/n_’s door and he knocked on the front door. _y/n_ opened it for him and said, “Thanks for doing this. You really didn’t have to.” Aaron gave them a smile and said, “I don’t mind. If it makes you feel safer, then I’m happy to do it. Could you show me the ring camera and bolt?” Hotch was just a few feet into their door and he didn’t move forward. He didn’t want to make them feel unsafe in their space so he didn’t venture further unless asked. From what he did see it seemed cozy and warm. A place that reflected _y/n_’s personality. After a minute and some rustling, _y/n_ came back. Their arms were full of a few boxes and a drill that didn’t fully seem right in their grasp. Hotch stepped forward slightly and said, “Here, let me get that for you.” He took the bigger items from _y/n_’s arms.

Hotch looked at the door and asked, “I can put this camera up first and you could set up the app while I added the bolt. Would that be alright with you?” _y/n_ nodded and said, “Yes, that sounds good to me.” Aaron returned the smile and said, “Great. Well, I’ll get started. This shouldn’t take long to set up.” Hotch grabbed the drill and the box holding the camera and moved back outside. Twenty minutes later he was back in the cooled room. As Aaron started adding the new lock to the door, _y/n_ worked on getting the camera set up and said, “Got it!” Excitedly when they could see the outside of their home from the safety of inside. Aaron turned and said, Great. Hopefully, that will give you some extra security, as will this.” Hotch pulled back and showed the deadbolt was now in place. Aaron stood up and said, “Is there anything else I could do to make you feel better? You said you weren’t getting out much. Are you feeling okay?” _y/n_’s smile fell slightly as they said, “Would you like a coffee or something? Or a glass of water? It was pretty hot out there.” Hotch could hear the desperation in _y/n_’s voice for him to stay, for just a bit longer. Aaron nodded and said, “A coffee sounds nice. Thank you _y/n_.” _y/n_ relaxed and let their shoulders relax. They looked at Aaron and said, “Would you like to come in and sit down?” They pointed to the table near the kitchen and Hotch moved further inside and took a seat. _y/n_ moved around the kitchen brewed a fresh pot of coffee and then sat down across from Aaron. They talked about light topics until the coffee was ready and they got them both a cup.

When _y/n_ was seated again, Hotch asked the same question again: “Are you doing okay, _y/n_?” _y/n_ bit their lip and said, “You’d think I’d be. _y/e/p’s/n_ just got jailed and I have added security, but most days I can’t even leave the house. Some mornings I can’t get out of bed. I’m wondering if I’m ever going to move past this. If I can see a man outside my door and not be afraid. Sometimes I feel like my life is over.” Aaron leaned forward and said, “It’s not over, _y/n_. I know it’s hard, but you can do this. You didn’t deserve anything that happened to you, but I believe you can move on from this. I hope in time you can feel safe and that you know you have resources so when you don’t feel safe there’s someone looking out for you. I’m one of those people, _y/n_. _y/n_ felt their eye’s water again. They hadn’t told Aaron this but he was the first person they’d let into their home since that first man had come looking for sex. It didn’t feel like the new beginning they had planned, but it was a small step forward. If nothing else _y/n_ knew that Aaron Hotchner was a man out in the world fixing things rather than tearing them apart, and he cared enough to be sitting here watching them almost cry. Hotch moved a hand forward and placed it over theirs. _y/n_ closed their eyes, sure they’d say something soon. But for now, it felt good to be safe with someone. And that someone was Aaron Hotchner.

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