#aaron refusing to use the dirty money for their home

[storiesofsvu]

Gorgeous Girl

Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: teasing, alcohol consumption smut, heavy petting, make outs, nothing too kinky this time lol.

For once, being out of town for work wasn’t because you were chasing down some deranged serial killer in a distant state resulting in far too little sleep, far too much shitty coffee and coming home more exhausted than you left. While this week was technically still work, there was far less of it, a week of conferences, an hour or two of speaking and you could dodge all the rest out at a luxury sky resort in Breckenridge, Colorado. Two agents from the BAU were required to attend and you and Emily had pulled the ‘short’ straws (depending how you looked at it, of course). Some members of the team thought a week like that would be absolute torture, others thought it would just be too boring, or that having to socialize with that many other agents while representing the BAU was a walking nightmare. To you, the only disadvantage was that you weren’t taking the jet, the remainder of the team needed it, you’d be flying commercial.

You and Emily, however, were more than well prepared to have a girl’s week together off in the mountains, escaping into the small town to see what kind of fun you could find. You’d even splurged, using a bit of your own money to get a larger suite, one with a hot tub on the private balcony overlooking the mountains. One that you planned on drinking bottles of wine together in while gossiping and trash talking.

Which is why you were so surprised when you rounded the corner to your gate.

“Hotch?” You froze on the spot, confusion taking over your face at the sight of your Unit Chief standing in front of you. “Where’s Em? God, does Strauss think we need a babysitter or something?”

“No.” He chuckled at your instant annoyance, “Prentiss got specially requested for a case in New York.”

“Who has the power to pull that?”

“Her mother.”

“Ugh.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. The surprise was wearing off and you suddenly shifted uncomfortably, pulling your blazer tighter around you, feeling Hotch’s eyes on you.

It wasn’t that the man made you feel uncomfortable, no it certainly wasn’t that. It was that he made you feel absolutely flustered. Nights when you laid alone in your empty bed unable to sleep and your hands danced their way down your body, it was him that you were thinking of, pretending they were his fingers touching you, stretching you out. That it wasn’t a silicone toy but his cock filling you so perfectly while he husked dirty words into your ear. As a result, you generally kept your head down around him, did your work and went about your life. He wasn’t totally sure that if it was that you just didn’t like him, if there was some underlying issue you had with men in power, or if it was simply that you were attempting to respect his authority.

“Sorry,” he suddenly spoke, “for ruining whatever plans you and Prentiss had. I know the two of you are close.”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, staring out the airport window “s’okay.”

“When we get there I’ll see about upgrading, try and get adjoining rooms or something.”

“Already did that.” Your eyes flicked back to him briefly, “got one of the larger two bedroom suites that close off with like, French doors or whatever. We were planning on,” your cheeks flushed suddenly, realizing you were about to admit to your boss that you were going to play hooky, “taking…advantage of as many amenities as we could.”

“Hmm.” He chuckled, watching the way you quickly looked away so you could watch the planes drive around on the tarmac, basically refusing to look at him, “I’m sure that was all Prentiss’ plan.” That earned a huff of a laugh from you but you still didn’t dare look him in the eye, “do you have any idea how many of these things I’ve been to over the years? Guess how many times I’ve ditched out on them.” He smiled softly when your eyes flicked back to him, “places like this always have the best scotch, and the bonus is that it’s free.”

You swore he winked at you, a grin on his face that sent tingles shooting through your body and you were incredibly thankful when they suddenly announced boarding. At the very least, you and Emily had also upgraded to business class, you wouldn’t have to worry about minimal personal space for the flight, there’d be a barrier between you and Hotch. While you were distracted with your phone, he’d managed to disappear and you weren’t entirely sure where to, but you took the opportunity to open your text messages.

‘I cannot believe you.’

‘Oh come on, like I’m happy about this either. A week with my mother?! Who’d they end up sending?’

‘Hotch…’

You didn’t have to imagine Emily’s laughter, you could practically feel it through the phone as the three little dots popped up, disappeared and then popped up again. She, of course, was the only one who knew about your crush on Hotchner, she’d been planning on teasing you about it all week, hoping that maybe you’d find some other brooding FBI agent to get under while out of town.

‘Maybe that’ll work out for you. You can enjoy the view and the hot tub with him, have a nice romantic weekend.’

‘I fucking hate you.’

*

The first two days of the conference were fine, you stayed out of Aaron’s way, went to the presentations you were speaking at and did the required amount of socializing. You found that he was usually gone before you in the mornings, but there was always fresh coffee in the pot waiting for you. He made sure to respect your space as much as he could, if he swung by the suite to change in the afternoon and you were there he wouldn’t linger, and he’d make sure to change in the bathroom.

Day three was a little more on the tedious side, sitting through a lecture you would have rather slept through, one that was meant more for younger agents but they’d asked someone from the BAU to sit in and help with the question period. You ran into Hotch at lunch and he inquired about your plans for the rest of the day now that the mandatory attendance parts were done, asking if maybe you wanted to explore the mountain town, maybe grab some dinner outside of the resort. You laughed awkwardly, praying your cheeks weren’t as hot as they felt and politely declined, he shrugged, teasing that you would be missing out, but to enjoy your night in. You were incredibly glad he wandered off after that, the butterflies in your stomach nearly too much to handle as you got accustomed to the more casual version of your boss.

Dinner was spent with an old friend from the academy, laughing as you caught up over multiple courses and a bottle of wine. You said an early goodnight to them, making your way back to your suite, happy to find it empty and your eyes drifted through the balcony window, lingering on the hot tub. Figuring there was no better time but the present you quickly stripped, changing into your bikini before swiping a bottle of wine from the fridge and a spare wine glass.

*

Aaron also ended up running into a couple of old friends while out in the town, friends who had worked this conference in the past and knew exactly where to go for the best meals and fanciest scotch. Free from the responsibility of running a team he had stated to loosen up on this work vacation, a little rougher around the edges, inhibitions lowered and that all remained when he returned to the hotel room. Toeing out of his shoes he hung up his coat before starting to unbutton his shirt as he moved through the room, wondering what was stashed in the bar that he could indulge into now, potentially coerce you into a drink with him at the very least.

He could hear music echoing from the balcony and his gaze got pulled out there where he caught sight of the steam rising from the hot tub into the cool night air. His eyes lingered on you, nestled in the corner of the tub you were fully settled into the padded seat, arms extended across the backs of it, your head titled back with your eyes closed as you relaxed, hair pulled up to the top of your head to keep it dry. He could see the shimmer of water and sweat on your skin and he instantly wanted to lick up the exposed column of your neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes sunk lower, not missing the curve of your chest just visible above the water, hot pink fabric clinging to your skin. You were at a complete level of peace that he’d never seen before and he couldn’t help but want to see more of it, want to explore how far he could push your boundaries and began to wonder just how professional he had to remain on this retreat.

Though of course, that had technically been his idea from the start.

As soon as Ambassador Prentiss called, Emily was groaning about how much of a waste it was that she was missing the conference. It only took a raised brow from him to get her to admit the plan was to ditch as much as the two of you could, that you’d splurged for the all inclusive package and a very private balcony and jacuzzi. He wasn’t assigned to take her place, and he didn’t jump at the offer to make it not so obvious, but no one else knew about the extra perks so he simply looked like he was taking one for the team.

Figuring it was now or never he retreated to his side of the suite, changing into his trunks before swiping a bottle of scotch and a glass.

You were more relaxed than you had been in ages, warm water bubbling around your body as the wine sunk into your system. The music soothed through you, pulling you further from reality and honestly, it was pretty nice to not be chasing after some psychopath right now, even if you were still kinda surrounded by talks of crime. You were almost considering calling Emily, checking in on how things were going with the team, updating her on how things were going here, no doubt she’d have mountains of questions and teasing about you sharing a suite with Hotch.

And that was exactly how and why you didn’t hear him come out onto the terrace.

“Think you can warm me up?”

His deep voice shook through the night air and you jumped, water splashing around you as your heart nearly burst through your chest while your eyes flew open.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You swore, chest heaving as you finally took him in, trying not to gulp at his bare chest, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry.” He chuckled, ducking his gaze for a moment, watching the way you sunk further under the water to avoid his lingering eyes, “you mind if I join? Or I can come back later.” He lifted the bottle of liquor in his hand, “just thought maybe we could have a drink.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You shook your head, “that’s fine, come on in.” You shifted further into the corner of the tub, turning your back while Hotch got into the water, wiping your hands on the towel to check your phone, unsurprised to have a couple of messages from Em. Once the water settled, you refilled your wine glass, turning back to face him as you sunk into the seat again.

“This is nice.” He murmured softly, letting out a relaxed sigh before pouring out a drink, “you and Prentiss really have a hack for these conferences.”

“Mmmhmm.” You replied over the brim of your glass, taking a hefty swig.

“You get up to anything fun tonight?”

“Ran into a friend. Had dinner at the steakhouse downstairs.”

Hotch frowned lightly, he didn’t miss the way you’d tensed up a little bit once you’d realized he was there, once he was in such close proximity and under the water with you. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back later? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You practically yelped, grimacing at how quick you were to keep him there, “I’m fine. Totally fine, promise. I just… you’re… my boss.” Your gaze was redirected into your wine glass, “never really seen you in anything other than a suit and now…” You blindly gestured in his direction and then to yourself with a little laugh, “and I don’t think a pink bikini is exactly business casual and it’s not exactly my classiest one… thought Em would be the only one seeing it.” You muttered and then let out a little gasp, suddenly glancing up, “not that I brought it so she could see it! We’re not… that’s… no… we’re friends, I don’t swing that way.”

This time Aaron laughed, taking a sip of his drink, “it’s fine. You need to relax, alright?” He raised his drink out to you and you timidly clinked your glass with his. “Enjoy this while you can.” He gestured to the view, the night sky painting the mountains in gorgeous colours, “besides,” he smirked across at you, “I’ve seen you undercover and a few of those outfits leave very little to the imagination.”

You glanced up to him, noticing the flush in his cheeks, the smirk on his lips before he took another swig of his drink. There was a gleam in his eye that you hadn’t seen before that you didn’t exactly recognize and if you’d known any better, you would’ve said he was flirting with you.

“Are… are you drunk?” You suddenly asked, nearly regretting it the moment you’d said it and he laughed again, a sight and sound that made your insides weak.

“I think I legally shouldn’t drive anywhere, but I’m still completely in control of myself.” He nodded toward the half empty bottle on your side of the jacuzzi, “are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry sir.” You blushed, ducking your eyes again, “that was inappropriate. And yeah, I’m totally fine, big lunch, big dinner, high tolerance.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His smile softened, “and you can drop the sir, we don’t need to keep up that professionalism right now.”

“Oh..” You sank deeper under the water, taking another sip of your drink. Part of you wanted to disappear while the other part of you wanted to complain you were overheating, pull yourself up onto the ledge of the tub and flaunt your half naked body. The desire to throw yourself at him was only a few glasses of wine away and you knew it. Instead, the two of you sunk into a semi comfortable silence as you continued to drink, watching the night sky.

“You know, your talk the other day was fantastic.” He spoke softly, his voice floating across the water to you, “better than any other profilers have done on the topic.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled quietly, risking a very quick glance up at him before you were staring at the horizon again. Hotch let another few moments of silence pass before he spoke up again, the corner of his mouth curving up when he asked you,

“Why so shy?”

That caught your attention, your eyes flying up to his as you clutched at your wine glass, “what?” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I’m just saying, you’ve been so reserved, aware, quiet on this trip. You almost seem to make yourself smaller whenever I’m around and I’m not sure if it’s because you only think of me as your boss or if I’ve done something to make you at unease.”

“Christ.” You muttered, “I thought we weren’t profiling this week.”

“Have… I done something?” He asked, near worry taking over his face and you were quick to drain your drink before jumping to action.

“No, absolutely not! Hotch, please, you’re like, the most respectful guy I know. You make me feel… well, a lot of things, but uncomfortable is not one of them.” The words slipped from your lips before you could even think about them and you glanced up, your cheeks burning to catch his eyes widening slightly before he grinned, his hand catching yours, grounding you from whatever spiral you were about to drown in.

“So tell me.” He murmured, his voice silky soft as it hit your ears, his thumb brushing over your knuckles and he gently tugged at your hand after your glass found home on the edge of the tub, “come here gorgeous.”

The pet name nearly made you melt the instant it had left his lips and you felt the fluttering between your legs as you willingly moved through the water when he softly pulled you to him once more. Your breath caught in your throat when he guided you to straddle his lap, one of his hands hesitantly resting on your hip under the water while the other continued to play with your fingers gently.

“Well?” He asked, glancing up at you with a devilish look in his eyes and you let out a low breath, “what do I make you feel?”

“Flustered.” You managed out, your heart ready to beat itself out of your chest, feeling his thumb rub against your bare skin under the water, encouraging more responses from you, “unfocused, distracted…”

“Hmm…” he leant in, pressing a tender kiss to the underside of your jaw, “is that all?”

“Christ, Hotch.” You muttered, your eyes nearly fluttering shut as his hand let go of yours, moving so his thumb and forefinger could pinch your chin softly.

“Aaron…” He insisted, his eyes boring into yours as you opened them and you nodded softly, nearly whimpering at the way his thumb shifted to trace your lower lip. “What else?”

“Absolutely and incredibly fucking turned on.”

“Is that so?” He murmured, tilting your head to the side so he could kiss your neck, his lips brushing across your skin as he spoke, “is that last part just right now?”

“All week.” You replied, your pulse racing as he continued to litter your skin with tender kisses “all the goddamn time…”

“You think about me a lot hmm?” He nipped at your neck and you gasped, your body jolting towards him under the water, “what do you think about me doing?” He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss just below your ear, “hmm?”

“Aaron…” you breathed out, your head tilted back with your eyes shut as his lips continued to dance across your skin. His hand gently pinched at your hip under the water.

“Don’t go shy on me now, tell me.. what do you think about me doing?”

“K- kissing me.” You managed out, unsure whether the heat in your cheeks was from the water, the way you were already putty in his hands or embarrassment of admitting it to his face. A gasp broke free of your lips at the sensation of his hand tracing up and down your spine and you automatically arched toward him, “touching me…” The hand he had under the water toyed with the knot of your bikini on your back, his dry one moving back to your chin, tilting your face back to his.

“I want you to look at me when you say the next one.” His thumb traced your lips, “come on gorgeous girl, I know there’s more you like to think of me doing, what is it?”

“Fucking me…” Somehow you were able to hold his gaze while the words floated out of your mouth, it was likely because your brain was already in a haze, first the wine, then the heat and now utterly intoxicated by Hotch’s touch.

“Bet you think about that one the most, don’t you?” He asked with a grin and you couldn’t help but nod, “when you’re alone at night, touching yourself, pretending it’s me. Picturing me naked, my cock stretching you out until your legs are shaking and you’re seeing stars.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Oh no,” he chuckled darkly, “I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of the night sweetheart, just wait.”

You let out a whimper, it was all you had time to do before Aaron sat forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that swallowed down any further noise coming from you. The kiss was full of fire, Aaron quickly dominating it and you were completely happy to let it happen, sinking deeper into his arms as yours looped around his shoulders. His dry hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers sinking into your hair while the other hand ventured further south, groping at the globe of your ass. You let out a small moan into the kiss, giving his tongue access to your mouth and he eagerly dove in. You could taste the scotch on him as your tongue danced with his, the smallest hint of a cigar from earlier and you couldn’t help but groan, your hands starting to play with his hair.

He pulled back ever so softly, nipping at your lip quickly before his mouth trailed across the side of your jaw, he left a feather light kiss behind your ear that caused you to let out an airy breath, your head lolling back and he felt himself twitch, hardening in his trunks. His mouth pressed lazy kisses down your neck before he made home in the crook of your neck, alternating between kissing, sucking and biting.

“Oh Aaron…” You shifted in his lap, lightly grinding against his cock and he let out a low groan onto your skin, his hands clutching you impossibly close to him. He raised his face, eyes dark with arousal as he gazed across at you before his lips found yours again and you were moaning into the kiss, grinding harder down onto his lap, a small gasp leaving your lips when you felt him getting harder underneath you.

Aaron couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted more, he wanted all of you, he wanted his hands and mouth everywhere all at once, he was drunk on your kisses alone and craved every inch of you. The lingering of your perfume was wafting through his senses, the way your lips moved against his made his cock utterly ache as you brushed against it. As much as he wanted to bend you over right then and there he would be completely satisfied just kissing you all night, the internal battle doing its best to figure out what he wanted to act on while your fingertips scratched as his head. You only broke the kiss when you felt like you couldn’t breath anymore, gasping for air, your eyes half shut, forehead resting against his while his hands soothed up and down your sides.

“God…”

“Still not the right name.” He teased, pulling a small laugh from you, one that you opened your eyes at, sitting back every so slightly before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. His hands trailed up your arms, coming to rest at the base of your neck, gently tugging at your bikini strings. “May I?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded with a wicked grin while your own hands splashed behind you to undo that knot and Hotch let the fabric fall from your skin, not even noticing it float away in the water as you sat up. His eyes raking down your body and over your chest, letting out a groan at the slight bounce as you settled, the way the water dripped down your tits, nipples hard in the cool air.

“Gorgeous girl.” He murmured, his hands gently groping your chest, squeezing your tits, thumbs flicking over your nipples and you moaned softly. “Such pretty sounds too.” You giggled softly, feeling the heat creeping back into your cheeks as his full attention was on your half naked body. His hands continued to play with your chest, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger while yours came up to cup his face, ducking to kiss him again, unable to get enough.

Moaning softly into the kiss, his hands squeezing at your chest, you ground down onto his lap harder, feeling the bulge building between his legs. Your tongue dove into his mouth, doing what you could to keep control of yourself as he increased the pressure on your chest, pinching your nipples. After a few moments he broke the kiss, eager to duck down and suck a nipple in between his lips, teeth scraping against the pert bud. Your hands wrapped around his head, threading into his hair as you held him tighter to you,

“Fuck Aaron…” You groaned and you felt his lips curve up into a grin against your skin.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He murmured, blowing cold air onto your nipple before swapping to the other side, “say my name.”

“God Aaron,” your fingers tightened in his hair, nails scratching at his head, “that feels so good.”

He groaned in response, teeth scraping against your tender skin before he pulled off your chest, burying his face between them to leave a trail of kisses all the way up your neck before kissing you deeply again. When he finally pulled away this time his hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you while he stood,

“Up.” He instructed, “out.”

“Why?” You half laughed, finding your balance on your feet in the water as his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Well I can’t fuck you in the hot tub gorgeous.” He husked against your lips before picking you up in his arms, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist and he was finally able to get you out of the tub.

Lips pressed against yours, tongue sliding back into your mouth he carried you back into the suite, managing to snag a towel from the back of the chair to toss down onto the bed before he let go of your legs. You let out a whine at the loss of contact, staying up on your toes to not break the kiss and he chuckled into your lips, hands groping at your ass. His hand cradled your face, pulling an inch away from you,

“Lie back gorgeous.” He muttered, stealing another kiss before nudging you back towards the bed, “I want to know how pretty you sound when you come.”

You collapsed down onto the bed and Hotch was quick to gently drop over you, catching himself with his hands as he caged you into the bed, his lips kissing at your skin again. Your arms wound around him, pulling him closer to you as your lips found his, tongue easily sliding into your mouth when he deepened the kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, back arching off the bed as your hips rocked up, eager for more friction. He let out a low groan at the feeling of you brushing against his cock through thin fabric, feeling himself throb inside his shorts. His free hand slid down your body, swiftly untying one knot of your bikini bottoms and then the other, pulling them away from your body while you lifted your hips to help before he was tossing them behind him.

Aaron cupped between your legs, palm rubbing on your clit while his fingers massaged your wetness, pressing against you, teasing you slightly as you whined into the kiss. A finger slid through your folds, spreading your juices around your cunt, dampening his fingers before he brought them up to your clit, rubbing slow circles on it.

“Aaron… please..” You whined, hips rocking up to his touch as you clutched him tighter to you.

He chuckled softly, finger dipping back down before it sunk into your pussy, pumping a few times before he added a second one. “Already so wet for me.” He husked into your ear, crooking his fingers in search of the sensitive spot inside you as he continued to pump his hand between your legs.

“Fuck…” you moaned, your body sinking into the lush bed as sparks began to fly under your skin, pleasure fluttering through you while his lips returned to yours, swallowing down your noises. His fingers twisted and scissored inside you, stretching out your warm walls while they skillfully fucked you. He curled them again and you broke the kiss with a gasp, body shivering against the bed as your eyes scrunched shut. You could feel your pussy pulsing around his fingers and you were sure your juices were dripping down his wrist already at this point. His nose nudged at your chin, giving him access to your neck again, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin while his fingers continued to toy with you. “Please…” you panted, “please fuck me already.”

Aaron’s breath was hot on your neck as he huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your lips before he pulled away, sitting up on his knees between your legs, watching his fingers disappear into you for a few more thrusts before pulling them out of your cunt and sucking them into his mouth. He let out a groan at the taste of your juices, his cock aching at the thought of truly tasting you, wishing that he had more time but you were already whining again and he didn’t want to tease you anymore than he already had. Shifting, he quickly tugged his shorts off and his cock sprung free, hard and throbbing, he wrapped a hand around it, smearing the pre cum as he pumped himself a few times, his eyes falling shut while he let out a heavy sigh before a realization washed over him.

“Fuck.”

“What?” You asked, your eyes flying open, widening slightly at the sight in front of you now that he was completely naked.

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“I’m clean.” Was your immediate response, not wanting to delay things any longer, “and I’ve got an implant.”

“Are you sure?” He asked softly and you nodded eagerly.

“Please Aaron..” you whimpered, “I need you…”

He leant forward, hand guiding his cock, rubbing it through your lower lips, smearing your juices around it as you let out a small gasp before he sunk fully into you and you both let out a satisfied moan.

“God you’re tight.” He muttered, dropping over you again, burying his face into the crook of your neck as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly deep inside you. “Fuck…” He stayed still for a moment, feeling you fluttering around him, he knew if he tried to move he risked coming incredibly early, he was already throbbing.

“Fuck you feel so good.” You murmured, arms squeezing at him gently, moaning when he nipped at your skin and that was enough to get him going.

He set a steady pace, plunging into you with a roll of the hips, cock dragging over every inch of your walls, hitting the right spots with each thrust. You clung onto him, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet his with every push, your moans getting louder as he fucked you, pleasure soaring through your body.

“Fuck…” you whined, “harder Aaron, please.”

He pushed himself up, sitting back on his haunches while he grabbed one of your legs, resting it on his shoulder groaning when he slipped even deeper into your pussy. You gasped softly, your hands clutching at the bedspread while his hips came crashing into yours, the noises leaving your lips more frequent, your eyes scrunching shut.

“Christ,” he swore at the way you pulsed around him, squeezing him tight, the coil building deep inside his gut as he watched himself disappear into your cunt. His hands grabbed your hips, lifting them off the bed as he continued to snap his hips into you and you cried out at the new angle, your pussy clenching down around him. “Gon’ need you to come sweetheart.” He grunted, “m’not gonna last.”

“Don’t stop.” You groaned, fire prickling under your skin as your body shivered, “oh fuck!”

Aaron reached down with one hand, pads of his fingers rubbing furiously at your clit and your body shook, hips jolting as he continued to pound into you. You felt the pleasure burst, pussy clenching around his thick cock, juices dribbling across your skin as you cried out.

“Oh god Aaron!” Your hips jumped in his hands, body shaking, thighs clenching around him as your peak hit, a chorus of his name and breathy swears escaping your lips, floating around the room just enough to drive him absolutely wild. “Fuck… yes! Oh fuck Aaron.”

He didn’t let up, thrusting faster, the pressure on your clit harder as he leant forward, driving into you harder as he started to chase his own peak. He grunted, hips nearly faltering as your pussy continued to flutter around him, his arm winding tightly around your waist, holding you to him.

“C’mon gorgeous. You’ve got one more in you. Come again for me.”

You let out a whine, your hands gripping at his body, nails digging into his skin and you swore you practically blacked out when your second orgasm hit, letting out a cry as you tensed in his arms, twitching as you whimpered. Aaron groaned, fucking into you a few more times as his hips faltered and he sunk into your cunt with one last heavy thrust, hissing as he came, spilling into your pussy.

Panting, he gently collapsed over you, arms winding tighter around you in an effort to solidify this moment into his memory, not wanting to forget the way you looked, the way you felt wrapped around his cock, the noises you made when you came, how your lips felt on his skin, the sweetness of your taste. Under him you were slowly catching your breath, a happy hum leaving your lips when he placed a kiss onto your shoulder. One of your hands gently ran up and down his back and you felt him relax deeper into you, letting out a soft moan. Finally he pulled his head up enough to kiss you, lips moving lazily together until he gently rolled off you onto his side, letting out a quiet hiss as his cock slipped out of your warmth. You rolled toward him, happily accepting the arm he swung over waist as he pulled you toward him again, ducking down to nip at the tender spot forming on your neck before kissing you softly.

“Well that’s one way to enjoy a conference.” You murmured, your lips curving up into a grin and he huffed out a laugh, eyes sparkling down at yours.

“Fuck the conference. Let me give you a reason to stay in bed.”

“Is that an order Agent Hotchner?” You asked with raised brow and he smirked.

“A direct one.” He kissed you again, lips brushing yours as he spoke, “no way either of us is leaving this suite ‘til Friday. That’s why room service was invented.”

“I don’t think that’s right, but I’m not going to argue.”

“Oh but you love to prove you’re right.” He teased, smiling as you rolled him onto his back.

“Yeah, but I can think of a few better uses for my mouth right now.”

*

Aaron’s suggestion was exactly the way you spent the next two days, tangled in each other’s limbs, sheets barely covering bodies while you discovered every inch of the other persons skin. By Friday afternoon you knew just exactly how to touch each other so that you would see stars every single time. Aaron was about to suggest staying the weekend for a few more days of bliss when his phone went off and you were both called back to work. The team was already on the jet, meaning you were flying commercia to California to meet them there.

You were immediately roped into a coffee run with Emily, even if it was only to the breakroom and back, she had to get her complaints out about the days with her mother and honestly, wanted to know how things went being trapped in a hotel with Hotch all week. Scooping up your coffee you snagged a granola bar from the shelf, wandering back down the hall to the team as you caught up, you shoved the bar into your pocket so you could pull open the door and your hand hit something metal, your brow furrowing as you stalled in your tracks. In turn, Emily pulled open the door, propping it so Hotch could step through, no doubt on his way to secure his own caffeine, nodding to the both of you as he said a quick thanks.

“Aaron!” You called after him, having now pulled the item out of your pocket, realizing it was his watch and he turned back to you just in time to catch it as you tossed it to him. His head titled in confusion, glancing up at you as he slid it back onto his wrist, “you left it in the bin when we went through security, I forgot I grabbed it.”

“Thanks.” A flash of a smile crept onto his lips before he turned away, making his way down the hall.

“Oh… my god.” Emily quietly gasped, smacking your arm, “you hooked up and you weren’t planning on fucking telling me?!”

“What?” Your eyes shot to her, quickly stepping through the door to make sure Hotch wouldn’t hear you, “no. Em, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Please. When have you ever called him Aaron before? And I did not miss that hickey on his neck.”

Your eyes widened quickly, remembering how you’d made home in the crook of his neck while riding him, his arms wound around you, squeezing you softly as his cock plunged into your cunt. It was the same round he’d lavished your chest, his mouth barely leaving them, under your shirt you had your own set of hickeys and bite marks littered across your body. The memories were enough to bring a tingling down south, desire beginning to flood through you as heat crept into your cheeks. That of course was enough for Emily to confirm that her suspicions were right, trying not to gape as she attempted to form a coherent response. Before she could though, Hotch came back through the door, already hanging up a call from Garcia.

“Prentiss, take JJ and head down to talk to the family, Agent,” he turned to you, “grab your coat we’re going to the crime scene.”

“Yes sir.” You nodded, your cheeks flushing at the use of the title already and a possessive look shot through his eyes lightning fast, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a very brief smirk that Emily caught and did her best to hold back a laugh. He was back across the room in an instant, handing out tasks to the rest of the team and Emily pinched at your arm.

“Well, get ready for round two in the car.” She teased and you turned to her with a smug grin.

“More like round eleven.”

_____________________________

@alexusonfire @svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @niyizh @ababanana @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @ssaaaronhotchnerr @itsrainingreid @speedynana @tgskitten @madamsnape921

[gayerthanevertbh]

she knows | high and dry part one.

navigation | natasha romanoff series masterlist

pairings: older!scarlett johansson x younger!reader

chapter one | chapter two: eyes on you

chapter summary: every minute and hour, you feel yourself slipping away from her - and you don’t know how to solve it out. what makes it worse is that she knows that you are slipping away.

warnings: slight angst, smut, strap-on used, dom!scarlett & sub!reader, pet names, dirty talking, and more. 

author’s note: this is just a short chapter since it’s like an introduction of the story, so hopefully you’ll enjoy it! let me know your thoughts about this story, thank you <3

When I exited the diner outside of Manhattan, completely disheveled and with my eyes swollen to the point where you might have thought I was a walking zombie, the wind felt cold. I looked around and decided that maybe this time I could just walk home by myself without having to worry about my secret partner picking me up. Even though I adored her, she occasionally refused to move out of my way when I needed some alone time.

I zipped up my coat and set foot on a familiar road I had taken before I met her. Tonight was so chilly that I could hardly move as I stepped onto the pavement; I could see my own breath in the air. I considered what I'll have to do when I got back home. Homework is not an exception; it must be completed. Then I'll cook myself dinner and eat with my cat, Leo. And tonight, if I'm not mistaken, my roommate Aaron will be returning home. He loves to party at all hours and minutes, which is one thing I know about him. If I have time, I can call Scarlett and ask how she is doing today.

But sometimes, I don’t even like talking to her. She can be hard-headed, and most of the time she’s jealous of my roommate.

I soon arrived home and continued to do my thesis for tomorrow, which has to be passed before lunch break. I grabbed my phone from the table and received a message from Scarlett, as expected.

Scarlett: Baby, I could’ve picked you up… why didn’t you tell me you went home on your own? You know there are a lot of bad guys there that could hurt you.

I feel like I can't function on my own at this point. Scarlett would always get in the way when I tried to do that. Am I too flimsy? What was the matter with me? Nothing, I pondered. I was perfectly fine; she wasn't. She seems to be present with every move I make. And as much as I liked the idea of someone looking after me, it can be annoying. I typed a quick message and continued to study once it has sent.

You: i just feel like i wanted some alone time, scar.

Scarlett: I know, but this is a scary world. You live in New York, Y/n. Lots of bad things can happen here.

You: but i know how to take care of myself

Scarlett: I know you do, darling. Sorry, I just feel like I should be protective of a little girl like you.

I was too busy staring at my laptop screen and my cat's purring on the other side of the room to respond to her. I lifted him and placed him on my lap as I stood up. I rubbed him while imagining what my life would be like without her. I would have stayed the same, and I would have never gotten the job at the diner that she gave me.

I was making dinner when I heard the door being closed. I turned over my shoulder and it was Aaron coming inside, smiling at me with squinted eyes. He asked, “What are you making?”

“Grilled cheese sandwich,” I responded, chuckling as I flipped the sandwich on the pan. “Have you eaten dinner?”

He shook his head. “No,” he sat on the couch with his feet on the table, stretching out his arms. “I decided that I am going to be a changed man.”

He can be very funny at times; I find myself laughing at his remarks.

“Oh yeah? What made you realize that?”

He murmured, "Don't know." he pinched his forehead. "I think this was triggered for me when Alyssa broke up with me last week," he said, his voice getting a little more animated. “If I don’t party all the time, then I would save some of my money and spend it on something else.”

“With drinks?”

“No, with… expensive stuff.”

“Aaron, we don’t have space in our lot.”

Aaron clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Right, but maybe we should get a bigger lot then.”

“You do know that my oblivious mother is paying half of this rent, right?” he laughed at my response, then I could hear him walking towards me. “And besides, I like living here.”

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that an actress, a famous one, is fucking me all the time.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

“Have you talked to your mom yet?”

My mother, I thought. She was exactly like any other mother, except she wasn't in my life. Though she does contribute to the rent in half, she never supports me emotionally. She never was. I could feel his eyes on me, and I stiffened. I replied with a stutter, “N-No, but I think I will call her later. I don’t know.”

After a short dinner with him, I took a quick bath and lit up my candle that smelled like lavender, since it was Scarlett’s favorite smell. I laid my head on the pillow and stroke my cat’s fur, feeling at peace.

Call her, I suddenly thought. Give your "girlfriend" a call; she deserves to hear about your day.

But what if I just need to be alone for now? I have to stop thinking about the guilt that is building inside of my body, I can’t handle it for now.

I just can’t.

When I exited the campus, Scarlett was waiting outside. She was smoking a cigarette inside her car because she found it relieved her anxiety when she saw students passing by. As soon as I entered her car, I kissed her on the cheek, watching her lips turn into a grin.

“Hey,” I greeted as I shut the door beside me. “Aaron isn’t in the apartment right now, do you want to come by and visit?”

“That was actually part of my plan since we can’t go out too much,” she said as she turned on the engine of her car. I felt her hand touching the back of mine. “I’ve missed you, baby. I felt like you were stressed out yesterday. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head and sighed. She'll be upset if I let her know I've been feeling this way lately. Every time I bring up our relationship's affair, she gets upset. There’s no escaping that.

“Not really, I just want to be with you right now,” I whispered to her, which I fully meant it. I loved spending my time with her, it felt like our love grows each time we see each other. But sometimes, she just couldn’t leave me alone – it’s almost as if I was a predator in her eyes.

“Okay,” she whispered back, kissing the temple on my head. “Why don’t we get some food first, hm? You must be hungry.”

You’re a homewrecker, her wife would despise you.

She bought McDonald's for our lunch because that was our go-to comfort food, then she ate it at my apartment. I was happily munching on my french fries as I watched Scarlett put music into the CD player. Something like this should always be cherished and never let go, or it might just slip away as you blink your eyes close.

“How was class?” she asked in the midst of our conversation that we had a few minutes ago. “Did you learn a lot today?”

“Not really, our professor just wants us to write him something honest. But I don’t really know what he means by honest,” I explained. “Like does he want us to be honest with our feelings? Our thoughts? Anyway, I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay, we don’t have to.”

She walked up to me and stroked the back of my hair, as she kissed the tip of my nose. I hear her say, “Everything’s going to be okay, my love. You don’t have to be scared about this, you know it will work out the way we planned to.”

“I know,” I answered as I watched her sitting down beside me, her hand still on my head. “I just feel like we’re hurting everyone around us. If your wife finds out about this, I don’t know how much I can live with that guilt. And if she even exposes me to the media, I don’t feel like I could blame her.”

“I’ll handle it, okay?” her voice felt reassuring, but it wasn’t enough. She leans closer and kisses me feverishly, I could feel myself stiffening. Mumbling, she added: “You don’t have to be scared baby, she’ll never hurt you. I won’t let that happen.”

She made love to me that day, her cock ramming up my insides, her hand on my lower back as she moans to my ear, biting the lobe. As the strap penetrated deeper into my body and struck the point that pushes me over the edge, I felt myself crying with both pain and pleasure. When she spoke to me, Scarlett would even purr the sweetest words into my ear. And as I heard the sound of our skin smacking against each other and felt it, I would just cling desperately to the arm of the couch.

“Fuck! You feel so good,” she whines, holding down my hips on the couch, making me let out a scream. “Oh god, keep yourself tight for me baby… just like that, yeah…”

“Scar–” my breath hitches. “M-Mommy, please slow down…”

She whines on top of me, and pulls her cock out slowly, then pushes it back in with a loud groan. She whispered, “Can’t help myself, sweetheart, your pussy is just so tight for me.”

I struggled to describe how I felt myself slipping into oblivion with each thrust she makes. She clung to me, her hips making a repetitive upward motion as I felt her wet lips on my shoulder. She placed her hand on my left breast and gave it a tight squeeze.

I screamed out of euphoria.

She grunted as she smacked my ass, her teeth feeling tense. "No one will ever make you feel good like I do," she said. “You can’t ever leave me, okay? You can't leave me, promise me that!”

She spoke with a desperate tone, and I'm not sure how to fix that. especially since I feel bad every time she shoves herself into me.

“I-I promise,” I mewled, my eyes rolling back in my head. “I won’t leave, Mommy.”

“I love you so much,” Scarlett cried out as we kissed each other sloppily. I felt her saliva all over my mouth. “Please don’t go, just don’t go…”

Squeeze it apart, that’s fine.

She knows.

let me know if you want to be tagged on the comment section below!

[elfryn]

Anonymous Commission Title: Honeymoon Fades. Words: 5613. Warnings: Manipulation, violence, explicit sexual content. Paring: Aaron Davis [Spiderverse]/Britney Evans [OC]. Request: Aaron approaches Britney with not-so-good intentions in order to use her as a pawn for a job, but things don't go according to plan. Commissions info here!

He watches her from afar. It's a balmy evening. The moon is high in the sky, and the few stars that defy the city's light pollution show their tenacity by shining through the clouds. There are few people in this part of the town, and the occasional ones cross the streets at a brisk pace, hurried and lost in their heads. She is alone, standing at the entrance to the cinema. Playing with a lollipop between her lips while lazily scrolling her phone. She's pretty, he thinks. Her long hair is as golden as the morning sun. Her skin has a healthy colour. He doesn't know much about women's fashion, but the pastel-coloured dress with strawberry embroidery and the bows that adorn her hairdo do her justice.

She wouldn't even notice if someone tried to approach her. One false move, and she'd be finished. In seconds, she could become nothing more than a bittersweet memory.

With soft steps that barely make a sound against the tarmac, he emerges from his hiding place in the shadows and strolls towards her. The handful of pedestrians in the street either don't notice his presence or hardly care enough about an extra person walking through the dirty city streets. Stopping a few metres from her, he doesn't announce his presence. The seconds tick by, and she remains ignorant of the world around her. Killing the last couple of steps between them, he extends his hand towards her.

"You know," he begins. His voice is deep and husky, and it startles her. "You're beautiful when you're distracted." He tucks the lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear.

For half a second, she stares at him with wide eyes that scream terror, but it fades the moment recognition flickers across her eyes. Her expression changes from fear to affection, and she offers him a smile that could make a man go blind.

"Aaron!" Her tone is both sweet and affectionate.

"Sorry I took so long," he offers her a smile.

"It's okay, I just got here too." That's a lie. It's at least half an hour since she arrived.

"Shall we?" He offers her an arm. Her smile gets bigger.

"Let's go!"

--

His head tilts back, bumping against the sofa's backrest. Through the ajar curtains, street light floods into the living room. At the right angle, he can see the moon swimming among the clouds. The hustle and bustle of the city mingled with the faint sound of the television, turning it into nothing more than white noise. The sound of her breathing, however, is loud. Like an annoying, ever-present distortion, eating up space and impossible to tune out.

Tired, he rubs his face. Letting his gaze fall to his lap, where a head of golden locks rests. She fell asleep halfway through the film, curled up next to him like a ball, hugging tightly the sheep plush he got for her at a street carnival.

It was one of the first times they'd been out together, he recalls. It was a summer afternoon. They walked between the stalls, lost a lot of money on rigged games, and went on almost every ride. She ate five cotton candies and had the wonderful idea of going on the rollercoaster afterwards. He thinks it is a bad idea, but she refuses to admit the flaw in her lapse of judgement. As the night wore on, the breeze got colder, and he gave her his jacket, which swallowed her whole. They watched the fireworks, and he used his hands to protect her ears from the noise and the cold. In the end, he walked her home and kissed her goodnight on the threshold.

Once again he focuses on her, so small, fragile and defenceless. As delicate as a porcelain doll. It doesn't take much to mark her, even the slightest pressure would leave a trail of bruises and purples on her fair skin. Tracing the outline of her body with his fingertips, he brushes his fingernails against the exposed skin of her arm. The simplest nick would turn her skin as red as wildfire. A primitive instinct in the depths of his mind tells him he should do this, should mark her. To show possession, and dominance. Make a public claim on her as his prey.

“Hey,” he calls in a whisper, “Hey, sleepyhead.” She wriggles in his lap, grumbling at being disturbed. He pokes her cheek and calls her a few more times.

Like a grumpy cat, she lets out an annoyed noise, showing her displeasure at being woken up. Without leaving his lap, she meets his gaze with her tired, sleepy eyes staring at him from behind her golden locks. “What?” she grunted, her voice husky and slurred.

“You fell asleep.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She replied crankily, rubbing her drowsy eyes.

“I'd forgotten that you have an attitude when you're sleepy,” he teases.

"You're the one with the attitude, baldy.”

“Hey, shaving my head by choice doesn't make me bald,” he feigns offence.

‘Tell that to your entrances, baldy.”

“I can't believe you said that,” he said in disbelief. “You know, my plan was just to take you to sleep in the bedroom, but since you've seen fit to spout such barbarity, I have no choice but to punish you.”

“And what are you going to do, spank me?”

“Oh, you wish,” he smiles mischievously. “What I'm going to do is going to be a lot worse.”

In one swift, precise movement, he moves on the sofa, lifting her off his lap and positioning her underneath him. He traps her between his body and the sofa, his hands flanking her tiny body and his legs pressed against her bare thighs. He moves closer, their bodies rubbing together, their lips softly grazing. Supporting himself with his left hand, he allows his right hand to rest in the millimetre gap between their bodies. Brushing his lips up to her ear, he says in a velvety, husky voice, “Are you going to apologise?’

She gulps loudly. Her heart is beating fast in her chest, loud enough for him to hear. Her body is hot, he realises. Sweaty. Placing her hands against his exposed chest, she pushes him enough so that they both face each other. There's something in her gaze, mischievous and hungry, that would make a lesser man crumble.

“No,” she states adamantly, ready for what's to come.

Holding her gaze for a lingering second, he waits. Her body quivers against his, her breathing grows heavy. Desperation, greed, lust. Hunger. He can see all these emotions reflected in blue eyes as pure and intense as natural diamonds. The slumber? Completely forgotten.

He tsks, a bemused smile on his lips. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he climbs off the sofa and holds out his hand.

“Come on, it's late, and you need to sleep for your big day tomorrow.”

--

It's a bad day, he remarks shortly after opening his eyes. Peering out of the window, one can see the scattered clouds swimming in a clear blue vastness. There are a few birds perched on the fire escape, chirping happily. Next to him, there's her. Sleeping calmly as if she didn't have a care in the world. Breathing calmly, messy hair falling over her face. Like a princess from a fairy tale in an ethereal slumber, waiting for someone to break her curse.

He could do that. Could wake her up and make her his own. Make her scream his name and beg for his flesh. Mark every centimetre of her body and declare his ownership. He could make her his, to play with, to abuse, to use until he grew tired.

Resting his head on the pillow, he sighs deeply. A rotten day, indeed.

The day drags on at the same speed as all the others, slowly and painfully. His bones creak with every step, his muscles complain at any movement, his head throbs as if something were drilling into his skull and his lungs ache and refuse to work. He wants to go home, take shelter in his bed and wake up in three months.

At lunch, they eat together. She babbles on and on, and he pretends to listen. Her voice is high-pitched and nagging, and he wants to tell her to shut up, but he scolds himself. It's not her fault it's a lousy day.

When the clock strikes the end of the shift, he breathes out. For the first time all day, he feels as if he can catch a breath, even if only a little.

The drive home is long. The traffic drags on for kilometres. The smell of fuel and the exhaust fumes from the cars make his migraine worse. Every time someone honks, he winces. He wants to get out of the car and leave on foot, it's only a few miles. He could get home by running and jumping off the rooftops. Taking his eyes off the sea of stalled vehicles, he turns to the passenger seat where she is leaning against the glass with her eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. This infuriates him a little, as he wishes he were asleep too.

Once home, he doesn't utter a word. Instead, he just takes a shower and goes to sleep. It's not a nice or pleasant sleep. His limbs are heavy and sore, his chest burns with every breath. His skin burns, but he's so cold. His conscience fights against him, unable to decide whether to let him lose himself to the abyss or not.

There is a voice, he realises after a painfully long time spent in nothingness. Distant, cracked. He can't hear it properly. Can't distinguish what the voice wants. But he doesn't care, he's not strong enough to do so. Eventually, the voice becomes a static hum. So he falls into the abyss again.

Sometime later, he feels pressure on his arm. Someone is touching him. A cold feeling in his chest. A bright light that he can't see but knows is there meets his eyes. A thick, viscous fluid slides painfully down his throat. He wants to scream at them to stop, to tell them that every touch burns. To beg them to have mercy on his poor, decrepit being. But it's impossible. His muscles don't respond, his voice is caged in his chest. His strength is a mere memory of days gone by. Amid his desperation to free himself from the bonds imposed by his mortal flesh, the abyss swallows him up again.

His stomach churns in displeasure. There is a scent in the air, delicious and nauseating. The sound of footsteps pulls him to the threshold, but it's not enough to completely shake him out of his stupor. The door opens and closes, the smell becomes stronger and the steps closer. Something is put down nearby, another thing is dragged in. Someone places a hand on his forehead, but something wet takes its place immediately afterwards. He can feel his body being handled, his head slightly higher, it hurts. There is a whisper in his ears, disjointed and impossible to understand. Something warm touches his lips and a savoury substance slides down his throat over and over again until his stomach complains once more, and he uses all his willpower to deny the next sip. He hears a faint sigh and a soft touch on his cheek, the footsteps return and are gone. Exhaustion consumes his body, and this time he willingly surrenders to the abyss.

Someone is crying, his ill mind tells him. He tries to open his eyes, but they're as heavy as steel curtains. The crying, he realises, is close by. It's quiet and choked, like an involuntary action. Whoever is crying is doing all they can to hold back their tears, to repress their feelings. His confused, cotton-wooled mind doesn't like that. The mysterious person is suffering, and he wants to help them and tell them they can cry. Promise them it will be all right, and kill whoever made them sad. But he doesn't have the energy for that, so the abyss pulls him to its side once more.

Three days, he learnt. Three days he spent navigating between consciousness and darkness. For three days, she stayed by his side, attending to his every need. Crying herself to sleep, worrying about him and ignoring her health altogether. Three days, that's how long he spent looking after her, who had contracted his mysterious virus.

--

He rubs his tired eyes. It's been a long day, too long for his liking. Not only has he had to deal with his on-paper boss being a huge arsehole, he's had to deal with his actual boss being a homicidal maniac. As a result of having to deal with this double crap, all he wants to do is go home and take a long shower, put on some comfy clothes and be swaddled by the sofa cushions as he slowly falls asleep to the sound of the television in the background. It's Wednesday, so she gets to choose the film. It will most likely be another questionable film, which is great for helping him sleep. In the morning, he would wake up with a sore back and her small body curled up on top of him. Over breakfast, she would complain that he always falls asleep when it's her turn to pick the film, and he would tease her that if the movies were good, he wouldn't go to sleep. Which would make her all red and frustrated. She's so easy to annoy, two words are enough. Which is very funny, but can be a problem, like the time he went a bit too far, and she got really cross with him and ignored his calls for a week. It was a long, empty, silent, cold week. Never in history has a week been as dark as that one. But he's learnt his lesson, he knows how far to push her buttons before everything blows up in his face.

The underground's robotic voice snaps him out of his reverie. His train is going to be delayed by ten minutes. He knew he should have stayed in bed and feigned illness. If it hadn't been for his clinically deranged boss, he wouldn't have needed to do fieldwork tonight and could have driven home with her like they always do. The traffic sucks, and it takes him an hour longer to get home by car than it does to take the metro, but it's better to be stuck in traffic with her for three hours than to be crushed in a metal box on rails like sardines with a bunch of stinky, sweaty, unfulfilled people for thirty minutes.

Unhappy with all his life choices, he sends her a quick message to let her know he'll be late. In a city as dangerous as the one they live in, any five-minute delay opens the door to anxiety, despair and unpleasant scenarios. She doesn't need that. To which she replies with kitten pictures. If the old woman standing next to him at the station were to say that he was smiling while looking at his phone, she wouldn't be lying, but he would deny it to the death.

The ride home is as stinky, crowded and uncomfortable as any other day. Perhaps even more so since, thanks to the delay, those who catch the train early and those who catch it late have been forced to squeeze into the giant sardine can together. As he squeezes himself between the door and the support pillar, he thinks of the people who have decided to stay behind and wait for the next train. He envies them with all his soul, but he needs to get home as quickly as possible, so waiting isn't an option. After all, someone is waiting for him.

With bated breath, he drags himself with ponderous steps to the entrance of his flat. Groping around the door for his spare key, as his own is lost somewhere in his bag, and he doesn't want to stress about searching for it. Before long, he finds the false compartment where the emergency key is kept. Unlocking the door, he takes off his shoes, hangs his bag on the coat rack and throws his jacket on the floor. Hearing footsteps, he looks up to see her standing in the kitchen doorway. She's wearing an apron embellished with flowers and frills, her hair is tied up in a messy bun, her face is smeared with flour, and she's holding a spoon covered in something red that's dripping onto the floor. Her smile is bright and sincere and smitten, and he feels all his tiredness fade away.

“I'm home,” he says pleased.

“Welcome,” she replies, beaming like a ray of sunshine.

--

He takes the blows with his head held high. The henchmen don't like that, they want to see him bend, break, cry and beg. He's not going to do that, he will not give them the satisfaction. Even if they kill him, he accepts all the punches and beatings without bowing his head.

Hit after hit, he stands firm. The metallic smell of blood is strong in the air. One of his eyes is swollen, and his lips are split. Breathing hurts as if he'd swallowed a thousand bees, which sucks because it means he's probably broken a few ribs. His arms are twisted into an almost inhuman position and tied behind his back.

Someone is talking. It's the lead thug, he stinks of cigars and booze and expensive perfume that smells like fish. He doesn't understand why people spend so much money on something that only makes you stink more. Rich people are strange. The lackeys laugh at something, he didn't hear anything funny being said, so they must be laughing at their boss's dumb face. One of the servants steps forward. Square glasses, hair full of gel, suit in perfect condition. A salaryman, he concludes. An accountant or some other boring thing that leaves him stuck in a cubicle day after day hating all his life decisions.

The accountant says a few words, then shows his boss something. The leader flashes a yellow, gloating smile. Taking whatever it is from the accountant's hand, the boss strides towards him with heavy footsteps.

“Is this yours?” The gorilla puts the phone to his face. He doesn't answer, it's a stupid question. Whose else would the phone be? The gorilla is too dumb to understand the obvious and is irritated by the lack of an answer. “Answer when your superiors ask you a question,” he says as he punches him in the face.

He holds the brute's gaze for a long second, then spits on the floor next to his shoe. With a bloodstained smile, he replies, “Whose else would it be? Mother Teresa?”

His answer earns him another punch, but he thinks it is worth it.

“Is that your girl?” He turns on the screen and the lock screen where he and she are posing in front of the Ferris wheel appears. “She's quite pretty, isn't she? I mean, of course, you think so, after all, she is your girl. You have good taste, I'll give you that. It would be a shame if something happened to her because you're a stubborn bastard who doesn't know how to cooperate.”

“You know,” he begins in a low voice. The surrounding air appears to drop a few degrees. All of a sudden, the goons feel as if someone has stepped over their graves. “My plan was just to take what I came for and leave without hurting you too much. But now, I'm going to kill every single one of you.”

The avoidable bloodbath that follows the statement doesn't even take half an hour. He retrieves his mobile phone from the crimson-stained floor and sends a message to his boss, telling him they'll need a cleaning crew. Low-life criminals should learn their place.

--

Self-hatred is a familiar face. A presence in the corner of the room that never fades, a shadow in the corner of your eye that you can barely see. A long-time companion who only appears at your worst moments to laugh at you. In short, something common and ordinary that he's learnt to live with. All in all, he manages to stifle his self-hatred and focus on the good things about him. The problem is that he can't see any good in himself. He was once a good brother, but that was a long time ago. He likes to think he's a good uncle, but that's just another lie he tells himself to pretend he's a good person. And he's not a good partner. To begin with, he didn't even want to be a boyfriend. What he wanted to be was a casual fling and a lapse of judgement that in ten or fifteen years she would remember in a passing thought and move on with her life because it didn't mean anything. Maybe, with luck, he could have been the scumbag who never called back or the bastard who took her on three dates just because he wanted to sleep with her. Anything, absolutely anything, would be better than the position he's in now. He'd trade it all to be just another name on the list of crappy men she's kissed and got over. But instead, he's a traitor. He really hates himself.

Months ago, when he took this job, he didn't think it would be like this. All he had to do was approach her, gain access to her personal computer, copy some data and get on with his life without thinking twice about the implications of using her and throwing her away. However, copying a few files became keeping an eye on the project and monitoring the project became stealing the access codes and taking the access codes became breaking into the lab, and it all converges into one line of thought: letting her take the blame for everything.

She's the scapegoat, the sacrificial sheep. Her employer is going to use him to steal from one of the best-guarded laboratories in the country, financed by a homicidal wacko, and she's the one who's going to take the blame. And taking the fall means being kidnapped, locked up, beaten, tortured and eventually killed without anyone even noticing that you disappeared in the first place.

That can't happen. It won't happen. He'll find a way, find a solution. Even if he has to give his life for it, he will protect you until his last breath.

--

He lets his head hang forward. The water beats against his back, failing to wash away his impurities and his problems. He's exhausted, unable to bear the train rack that his life has become. He needs to end it, to end things with her. It's the best thing to do, it's the solution he's found to save her. In a desperate effort to keep her heart beating, he has to break it. He needs to destroy everything they've become and turn all the memories they've created together into something bitter and poisonous.

The creak of the door brings him out of his thoughts. Looking over his shoulder, he sees her stepping into the shower. She smiles in that exquisite way that makes him lose his composure. Circling his body with her arms, she presses her naked breasts against his bare back. Her fingers brush against his exposed skin with touches as soft as the kiss of a feather. Her touch is warm even under the cold water. Moving down to his crotch, she takes them between her fingers, squeezing and massaging them. Ignoring his already sensitive cock. He breathes between his teeth, controlling himself. She wants to provoke him, to make him lose his mind. He's not going to give in that easily.

Seeing that he's not going to give in, she changes tactics. Running one hand up his stomach, she makes her way to his chest. Drawing circles around his areola. Tempting him. Stroking his torso, guiding her fingers over his nipples without actually touching them. Over and over, she repeats the process, testing his self-control. Then, without warning, she pinches one of his nipples, eliciting a groan from him. Her laughter echoes through the bathroom. Pleased to have drawn a reaction from him, she continues. Massaging his balls with one hand and pulling and twisting his nipples with the other. Teasing him without forgiveness.

Two can play this game.

Groping blindly, he leads his hand towards her and grabs her leg, suspending it by his side. In response, she presses her body tighter against his and tumbles her leg against him. With the same pettiness as her, he uses his other hand to tease her. Driving his hand up and down her inner thigh, caressing her inner lips. Using two fingers, he fingers her entrance. Going as deep as possible without penetrating her. With his thumb, he lightly squeezes her clitoris. The movement elicits a moan from her. It's his turn to laugh.

They tease each other and provoke one another. They do everything they can to torment the other in the best possible way. She pinches his nipples, strokes his belly, massages his sack and utterly ignores his growing erection. He scratches her thighs, rubs her labia, teases her slit and flicks her clitoris.

The bathroom is hot, and they're sweaty, the cold water that still falls on them merely an overlooked detail. Against his back, he feels her breathing as uneven as his own. He doesn't know how long it's been since she got in the shower with him, but he knows he'll need another shower when it's over.

She shivers and rests her forehead against him. He can feel her body arching against his, her flesh trembling. She won't last long, and neither will he.

Slowly, her hands stopped roaming his body, taking the long way round to his throbbing member. He tries to regulate his breathing, but it's difficult. He's ready for it, ready for her hands. A long, agonising second passes without anything happening, and when it does, it's not what he expected.

She reaches for his hand, the one playing with her, and pulls him away. Confused, he turns to her. Maybe he did something wrong or hurt her by accident, it's always a possibility. He watches her, but there seems to be nothing wrong. To be safe, he doesn't do anything, just waits.

First, she does nothing. She then lustfully stares at him, devouring him with her ravenous, insatiable eyes. His heart races under her lascivious gaze. He feels like an object, something about to be used and discarded. Maybe, if he's lucky and does a good job, he can be reused, but that doesn't change the fact that he's nothing more than a tool to satisfy her appetite. With that same smile as when she entered the shower, she shoves him against the wall. His back hits the shower damper, shutting off the water that they both forgot was still falling.

She stands on tiptoe to kiss him. It's something carnal, animalistic. She devours him whole. With her hands roaming his body, her breasts pressed against his torso, her leg positioned between his and her thigh rubbing against his arousal. Her tongue dominating his mouth. She has control of the situation, control over him. He is her toy to use and break. One of her hands slowly trails down his body, burning his skin along the way, stopping only when she finds what she wants. With her thumb, she presses his perineum. It's as if he's been struck by lightning. An inhuman sound escapes from his throat. Primitive and incoherent. His legs falter and he has to steady himself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

Not satisfied, she pulls his hair, eliciting more incoherent sounds from him. Bringing her lips to his neck, she bites down. It hurts, but it's a pain that makes him ache and yearn for more. She's marking him, declaring her possession. He is hers.

Drawing a path of kisses down his jaw and to the edge of his ear, she nibbles his earlobe. Sucking on it and playing with it with her tongue. He lets out a moan. Her breath in his ear sends a shiver through his body. He closes his eyes, letting himself be used by her. He's on the edge of sanity. On the edge of his humanity.

His body burns, begging for more. He wants to be touched, bitten, marked, scratched, played with. But there's nothing. The touches, the bites, the pressure of her body against his have all stopped. Desperate, he opens his eyes to see her leaving. With one last glance over her shoulder, she smiles at him before disappearing out the door.

Disbelieving, he remains stunned in his stupor. His heart in his mouth, his skin chastised and burning. His needs left neglected. He's been used, as he knew he would be. But that doesn't make it any better. Defeated, he let his legs give way. Switching on the water again, he lets his body mourn the loss of hers.

--

“You're leaving.”

He was trying not to wake her. Was trying not to let her notice his absence until it was too late. He thought of everything, every second, every detail. He was meticulous, strategic, and calculated. All the decisions were made so that this wouldn't happen so that he wouldn't have to look directly at her while breaking her heart.

“An emergency came up,” he lies. His eyes wander around the space, focusing on the crack in the left wall, the stain on the kitchen cabinet, and the torn carpet from moving the coffee table around so much. Anything but her. “I'll be back before you wake up.”

“You know, I always knew you were a liar.” Her words catch him off guard. He searches for her with his eyes and immediately regrets it. Her eyes are red and her face is swollen. She's crying. “I just didn't think you were a coward, too.” Her voice carries a mixture of anger, hurt, and disappointment.

He stares at her blankly. A small part of his brain tells him that now is the time to say something, but he can't process the situation properly. He just opens and closes his mouth a few times like a fish on land.

“I--”

“I'm not an idiot, you know.” She interrupts him before he can begin. “I may seem childish and immature and even naive to some people, but I'm not an idiot. So don't insult my intelligence. If you ever really liked me, don't lie to me, not when you're about to walk out on me without saying anything.”

There's a fire in her eyes, a glint beyond tears. She holds his gaze firmly, defying him.

“Indeed,” he begins with a smile, “you're not an idiot. You're incredible, just incredible. That's why I can't tell you the truth.” He chuckles. A melancholy sound, that of a ruined and decayed man. “But I didn't lie to you when I said I'd be back soon, I lied to myself. Because right now all I want is to come back. To come back to you, to come back to us. To all the plans we've made and the dreams we've dreamt together. And yes, I'm a liar and a coward, but please don't ever question how I feel about you. Regardless of how our relationship began, I want you to know that you are the girl who made my dead heart beat again. And if I could, I'd like to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you, because it was with you that I discovered what it is to live rather than survive. And for that, I will be eternally grateful.”

“I love you, Britney Evans,” he confesses. His voice broken, his face marked with tears, and his smile sorrowful but sincere.

--

With idle steps, she walks between the museum's galleries. The sound of her heels against the floor echoed off the ornate walls and mixed with the cacophony caused by the other patrons. Stopping occasionally to gaze at certain pieces that catch her eye, killing time until the main exhibition opens to the public.

On her left, there's a couple. They laugh loudly, oblivious to the noise they make. Their fingers intertwined, their shoulders rubbing as they walk. They both seem to be in love. It causes her heart to ache.

She turns her gaze back to the painting in front of her, trying to ignore the couple. Her treacherous memory brings back flashes of a warm smile and long arms wrapped around her. Of nimble fingers playing with her hair and a husky voice whispering her name.

Even after two years, thinking about him still hurts.

“Nice, huh?” A voice to her right asks, pulling her from her memories.

It's a beautiful painting of a countryside landscape. She would like to visit a place like that and get out of the city for a while. Find peace far away from that heartless place.

“Yes.”

“I have a house in the country with a view almost like that,” the mysterious stranger remarks. “Would you like to go there with me?”

She turns to the stranger, ready to cut off their pathetic attempt to hit on her and make it clear that she's not interested until she crosses eyes with them and sees him.

“Yeah, I would love to.”

[bobbie-robron]

It’s all very well being moral but it doesn’t put a roof over your head, does it?

01-Dec-2016 episode 2

[whump-town]

In His Eyes

Warning: abuse, mental health, lots of talk about food and starvation, hospital, suicide attempt, suicidal ideations, cutting, and self-harm, cursing, and it’s just very dark

Listen, this might be a little much. The themes are dark and it’s far from a happy story

Main Characters Are Aaron Hotchner, Jessica Brooks, and Haley Hotchner

Probably OOC but I don’t care

His pulse is slow against her fingers but there. She calls 911, sobbing. Choking around the weight of his name on her tongue. Will they let her back this time? To hold his hand? He gets nightmares. He won’t like being alone. “He’s--He’s twenty-two,” she rasps, brushing his hair from his eyes. “This is his first year of law school.” And he’s so fucking smart. She needs them to know that. He’s kind. Always remembers her favorite foods and makes her laugh. He’s just a kid. They’re just kids and he’s the only person she’s ever loved. So, they have to help. Please, God, just help.

Final warning for themes of abuse, mental health, food, starvation, hospitals, suicide attempts, suicidal ideations, cutting, and self-harm

Word count: 9,137

For as long as Jessica Brookes has known her brother, he’s had the thin scars marring the pale, milky flesh of his arms. The first time she’d seen them, she was sixteen too old to play stupid but too afraid to call them what they were. At the time, he hadn’t been her brother. In fact, to the world, he had been no one at all. A ghost that walked the halls of their high school with his pained, sluggish movements and seemingly unseeing eyes. Sweaters dripping down his skinny frame and jeans that were made to fit someone nearly double his size. But, for what little credit it’s worth, no one had ever said a thing about him. He was no one. Nothing.

Haley had seen past all of that. Of course, she had. Haley had never loved anything whole. She drank from cracked plastic straws for fear of what would happen should she leave them behind. Thrown out, that’s what. The world has no use for a straw that can not do it’s one feasible job. Not to Haley, though. Their father used to call her Saint Haley, the patron saint of the discarded. And naturally, Haley clung to the idea of Saint Jude. Another lost soul, seemingly just like her, out there to collect others. A reminder that even the lost aren’t alone and that they may not be as lost as they think. And so how could any of them be surprised when Haley, who hung the moon and stairs, brought home her own lost being? Stumbling in clothes too large for his lithe frame and stinking of booze and cigarettes.

Aaron Hotchner has no place in their home. Jessica had been unwavering in this. Look at him. A semester ago, he’d been kicked off the track team for pot. He can’t even go out and get drunk with everyone else. He smokes cheap cigarettes out behind the Miller’s barn and, thought no one could prove it, they all blamed him for the dead birds and cat half-buried in the woods by the school. How could it not be him? With those large, trembling hands and his inability to stay away from trouble. How many fights had he been in this year? How many times had Jessica come from one of her classes to find the student body surrounding his bowed back as he sat over the hips of another boy, mercilessly beating him? So, how could that dirty boy be worth her sister? If she’d asked him, he’d answer her with the same thought Jessica knew better than to speak around Haley. He doesn’t.

So, how could any of this add up? Aaron Hotchner like a straw bent with damage has good in him too. Jessica had never seen the other boys. The way they pick and preen at him. Smacking his head and kicking at his ankles. Calling names at his back. The teachers never do a damn thing and why should they? He’s not the smartest kid in their classes. He sits in the back. Turns in mediocre work. He doesn’t get encouragement. “I know you’re capable of more than this, Aaron.” No, he gets sighs and shaking heads. So, when he takes action. Thrown to the end of his line, he is the bad guy. Because Aaron Hotchner is just the kid no one likes. His father’s name is the only thing keeping him from getting expelled. No one ever cares to see how he flinches from his father’s touch or the pain in his eyes when new bruises form across his body. Because they don’t care. But Haley. Haley cared and her love had been her one and only rebellion.

Jessica had been the sort to fall for the beauty of rebellion, not Haley. Her first boyfriend had been a biker, a senior who would break her heart. Rolling with anger at her father’s words, that she might be too young to know anything about love, had fallen head over heels for a girl in her biology class. And while she hadn’t given a thing to her senior ex-boyfriend of three months, she gave everything to that girl. Sarah Halls with her bright brown eyes and soft blonde hair. Which had effectively taken much of the heat off of Haley and Aaron. While that had not been the intended outcome, Jessica hadn’t minded taking it for his little sister. She’d found it entirely worth it when Sarah broke up with her a year and a half later. Which, to a heartbroken sixteen-year-old, had been everything. Years and years to which she could never get back. So she did what broken people do and spiraled into every self-destructive tendency she could think, that she could buy.

And Aaron had found her. Sweet Aaron with those thoughtless brown eyes and haggard discoloration over his exhausted face. She had slapped him when he first attempted to collect her. Sloppy drunk, high, and convinced that the world should just end right here. This misery she felt unmoving and forever. Despite what could be assumed about his body beneath those oversized sweaters, old and worn year-round, he is strong. While she kicked, crying, and distraught, he had lifted her into his arms and taken her. One arm under her legs and the other braced against her back. Not so much as a blink, not a frown, or scowl of pain. He had simply looked to Haley, waiting for her to direct him. Slowly, shocked by both of them, Haley had opened the car door and allowed Aaron to place Jessica in.

She’d never forget that night. The way he’d crouched on the floor in front of her bed and wiped her make-up away while Haley held her. His eyes, she discovered, were not unseeing. Darkened with his focus, she could see every thought cross through his mind. The kind, gentle strokes of the rag in his hand over her nose and across her lips. Loving.

“Aaron?”

He had startled as if expecting her to be past the point of cohesiveness. She knew, later, he hadn’t even known that she knew his name. What had she called him in the months since Haley brought him home? Had she ever really looked at him? Allowed herself to even think about learning to love him with even a fraction of the devotion Haley has? Now, those eyes darting between hers, he hums. As he often does.

Gently, slowly (with the same apprehension she’d watched Haley show each time she reached for him) Jessica places her clammy palm to his cheek. He stiffens beneath her fingertips but doesn’t avert his gaze or move to pull away. “Thank you,” she whispers, dragging her fingers against his cheeks. Here, she can see more than she needs to. The deep scar on his cheek and another that runs with his jaw. How each movement of the rag moves the sleeves on his shirt just enough to allow her a hint of what lies beneath. The skin of his wrist raised. Scarred.

She looks back at his face. Haley and Aaron may only be slightly younger than her but they seem like babies here. Now. “I’ll still kill you if you hurt my baby sister,” she whispers, closing her eyes with a smile. She hears his soft puffing laughter as if a hand in his chest squeezes his lungs tightly to stop any real noise. And she realizes she’s never heard him laugh. Real, deep, unhinged. Haley squeezes her stomach and she’s pulled back to them.

When Haley is sixteen and Aaron seventeen (Jessica nineteen and struggling through the second and last year of college), his father dies. Mopping up her tears with a coffee-stained napkin, Jessica’s attention had quickly been turned upside down. How could she waste her worries on Sociology when all she can see is Aaron's skinny little wrists and the scars on his face. The bruises up and down his back. Skeletal, sweet Aaron. She returns home as quickly as she can. Though she out-right refuses it the first time, her best friend gives her money for the bus fare. Her father could not spare her the money. She’s only in college because of a scholarship, they just have the money to spare. No matter how many times Haley called, voice thick with tears, and promising things were okay there at home could Jessica stand to believe her. So she took the money.

She arrived back to their silent quaint town on Tuesday to find Aaron had been in the hospital since Saturday. Refusing to eat or move. Restrained like an animal. She might have thrown a fit. Maybe she should have. The nurses stand at the doors of the intensive care unit and inform her that the floor has strict rules. That Haley can not come back. They don’t allow minors onto the floor but had they not broken that very rule allowing Aaron in? So, why not let the rules slip one more time? For Haley, for Aaron, unless they really want to watch that boy die. Is that what they want? And still, they declined her. Sensing the end of the nurse’s patience Jessica had pulled herself together and succumbed. Fine, yes, she’ll go back. Just her.

And there he is. Sweet Aaron. With those eyes and the bruises. The hospital gown leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s nineteen and he’s seventeen. Children. Too young for the pain of life and the coil of death. It isn’t until this moment that she realizes she loves him. There had been a time when she thought it was even crazy that she might love Haley. So, she’d been startled and hesitant with the idea of being inclined to love Haley’s future spouse. And it would not matter if Haley and Aaron broke-up today, she would still love him. As she suspects Haley would too. Because Aaron is a fighter and there’s something about him that just draws you in. Perhaps it’s the surprise he exhibits when you’re kind to him. Taken aback by gentleness and love. Never understanding how you might have come to love his thoughtfulness. Him.

“What are you doing?” The room is silent. There is no need for a heart monitor, just the IV fluids snaking into the back of his hand. Her father had told her about the doctor’s threatening an NG tube which, at seventeen, he doesn’t have the legal authority to deny. So, if this tirade of his goes on he’ll have to suffer through the procedure. But she knows not to waste her time on a speech about his actions and their consequences. Aaron isn’t stupid.

The moons of distress under his dark eyes look daunting on his handsome face. He’d grown into his body while she was away and it had made her proud to see. Her mother’s apple pies had done wonders for him. Having a steady place to come home to, even if it’s the couch in their living room, had transformed him. Now, he takes a moment to understand her. All the weight he’d put on melted right back off. “I’m tired,” he answers. It requires a breath that pulls his shoulders to his ears. His thin, pale lips parting.

She wants to scream at him. Of course, you’re tired! When was the last time you ate? The last night you slept through? But she looks back at those eyes, little mirrors filled with tears, and she leans down and kisses his forehead. It requires no thought, no hesitation to pull him to her. To wrap her arms around him. He pushes his head against her chest, face pressed into her sweater. “I’m sorry,” he whispers thickly. And with her eyes closed, she apologies too. For not coming back sooner. For not being here when they needed her.

“I know,” she answers, running her fingers through the back of his hair. He sleeps and she stays right there. He wakes a few times. Mouth too dry to speak but those dark eyes are always seeing. Always taking in every bit of information he can. She doesn’t leave. Sometimes she’s reading from textbooks. Stalking around the end of his bed with a phone in her hand, angrily speaking to whoever it is on the other end of the line. He looks up and finds her sleeping a lot. Her long legs pulled onto the chair with her and he wished he could move. Find the strength to wake her and move her to the bed.

His mother never comes. Sean calls but it’s bitter and Jessica can see how upset Aaron is getting so she hastens it’s end. Those calls stop coming when Jessica can properly defend that they only make him worse. Proof that getting better isn’t linear even though she wishes for it to be. She just wants Monday when he eats a snack and laughs at her silly joke for Wednesday to come and him still to be light. Not wrapped like a tight coil, arms around his stomach and crying in pain. But health isn’t linear and Aaron has never done anything the easy way.

Three months. For three months after his father’s death, Aaron sits in that hospital. He spends a month in the ICU and two more in general. Seeing Haley both helps and impedes. Jessica finds herself parenting the both of them. Leading Haley to show her when Aaron needs them to step in versus when it’s just best to leave him to his own devices. Because it looks cruel but he needs the silence. Slowly, he finds his feet once again but he’s fallen behind in school and if he wants to graduate on time he’ll have to spend all summer making it up.

But that wasn’t the problem with Virginia summer’s.

“Aren’t you hot?”

Wearing his signature long sleeve, Aaron goes without comment to help Roy dig the ponds up. He hasn’t spoken since being released but he didn’t speak too much before. It’s hardly noticeable to anyone but Jessica and Haley but they both have their own problems to attend to. Jessica is once again taking their heat with her larger news: she’s dropping out of college. So, Aaron’s silence has taken the back burner.

Looking down at his clothed arms, Aaron shakes his head. Continues digging.

Jessica looks up from the porch, waiting for the moment she needs to step in. Legs outstretched on the wooden swing, Jessica looks at the words on her book but takes nothing in. She’s pretending to read. Her father pushes Aaron some more. Offering a tank top or even just a white t-shirt.

“It’s too hot for all that nonsense,” Roy comments, motioning to Aaron’s worn sweater.

Before Aaron can even start doing his rapid, panicked blinking Jessica clears her throat from the porch. “Stop patronizing him, dad.”

Roy huffs but lays off.

For that exact moment, she’s the hero but she’s just a coward. Too afraid to allow the conversation on. Perhaps she should have let her father push him a little more. Make Aaron realize what he’s doing to himself. What he’s doing to all of them. Things aren’t what they used to be. He’s not alone. Can’t he see that?

No. He can’t see that. What he sees is a family he’s not a part of. Painfully reminded around every twist and turn just how alone he is. On Christmas the traditions of theirs that he stumbles over. He’s never decorated a Christmas tree or baked an apple pie. Haley does it without blinking, smiling to encourage him along but he just doesn’t know.

They change. He graduates on time and a year later she does too. With Jessica right there, always encouraging, and positive they both go to college. Haley falls for the science of psychology and Aaron falls head over heels for political science.  

For four years its as if that boy never existed. He gets a second wind. A new chance.

But the damage is there and habits are so hard to beat.

Haley comes home early from class. Tuesdays usually mean her days don’t end until nearly seven at night. She’s got study hall and a sophomore that she tutors in Chemistry. Today, the kid had canceled their appointment, and the snow forced her home. Coming in, she’d been excited to find his coat already on the rack. Eagerly she’d torn through their tiny apartment to find him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, despite that being his favorite room in the house. He seems to always be making something, perpetually hungry. The living room had his things, briefcase open, and papers a mess. He can’t seem to think in clean rooms, always has to dirty them up. Their room was barren, not even his half of the bed disturbed. Leaving the bathroom.

Knocking against the solid door, she eases the doorknob open when he doesn’t call out. “Aaron?” Something deep had ached in her chest when she saw the living room. The papers wrong or maybe his shoes discarded almost looking tripped over? Desperate. The apartment felt desolate, cold. Stepping in her breath catches in a gasp, “Aaron!” Sinking to her knees beside the tub, she pulls him up. Moving his face from where he’s so dangerously allowed it to sink into the warmth of the water. Clutched in his hand, submerged beneath the water, a single bottle of Advil.

He’d bought it only two weeks ago. She’d been there, right beside him. Budgeting has been hard and she could see the apprehension in his face when they’d stopped near the aisle. She had mistaken it for fear that they didn’t have the money to waste on something like Advil and now she can’t help but wonder if he’d wondered something else. Would Advil be painless? How fast would it be? But she’d taken his hand and squeezed it, reassuring him a bottle of Advil would be okay. He was getting headaches, bad ones. She assumed he was just too worried to admit he needed them. She hadn’t thought he was suicidal but when has she ever been able to hear the thoughts racing through his mind?

“Aaron,” she runs her knuckles across his sternum. No. No, she hadn’t thought he was suicidal but had she ever really thought he was okay? Don’t be stupid, she’d think, as she sat in the library late at night. Reading books, consuming every bit of knowledge she could obtain without ever admitting to herself that maybe, just maybe the man she’s loved since she was fifteen might be suicidal. Not Aaron who lights up rooms and loves picnics and, on more than one occasion, has woken up to climb onto the roof and watch the sunrise. But maybe he’s not in love with life enough to want to stay here. “Aaron,” she calls, her clothes as soaked as his. “Wake up, baby.”

His pulse is slow against her fingers but there. She calls 911, sobbing. Choking around the weight of his name on her tongue. Will they let her back this time? To hold his hand? He gets nightmares. He won’t like being alone. “He’s--He’s twenty-two,” she rasps, brushing his hair from his eyes. “This is his first year of law school.” And he’s so fucking smart. She needs them to know that. He’s kind. Always remembers her favorite foods and makes her laugh. He’s just a kid. They’re just kids and he’s the only person she’s ever loved. So, they have to help. Please, God, just help.

At the hospital, they give him so much medicine that she can’t even think straight. The whites of his eyes all she can see as a nurse guides Haley through what they’re doing. “It’s a seizure,” the nurse says, unwavering as she watches Aaron’s body jerk and shake. Everyone works around him but no one touches him. Simply moves things away from where he might hit them. “Tell me about him.” She puts herself between Haley and Aaron, averting Haley’s gaze so she doesn’t have to watch the staff move him. Hurt him.

Haley struggles to come up with a thing. “When we were seventeen he--he stopped eating,” Haley manages. Maybe, that will help? “He was hospitalized. He almost died.” Suddenly, all Haley wants is Jessica. Her sister to pull them out of this mess like she always does. Protecting them.

The nurse shakes her head. “No,” she clarifies. “No, tell me about him.”

About Aaron. “He loves blueberry pancakes,” she chokes, an inappropriate laugh forcing its way up. “Really loves them.” She smiles and the nurse nods, smiling too. It’s easier to think of him like this. The boy who used to climb up a tree outside her dorm to wave at her from her window. “He will make himself sick eating them.” His childhood had been so bleak, so bland. He’d known only oatmeal as a breakfast food. The first time her mother made them, he’d eaten so many he had been sick and she’d sat right by his side rubbing his back. “Still,” she adds with a shake of her head. “To this day, twenty years old and he still makes himself sick eating blueberry pancakes. Like--” she starts to cry. “Like he’s afraid you’ll take them away.”

Standing in that emergency room, Haley wonders how much of what she knows about Aaron is true.

“Has he tried to do this before?”

He wants to be a lawyer. A better man than his father putting away the bad guys and fixing the system. He’ll never graduate. No one wants a suicidal lawyer. She’s torn between morals. He’s spent the last few years fighting for this and this one silly mistake could unravel it all. Just a silly mistake. “No,” she chokes. “No, he’s not-- he’s not suicidal. He gets migraines.” She looks up from the tiled floor. “He had a migraine. That’s all. He forgot how many he took and I wasn’t there. I should have been there. He was just confused. I told him to take a bath. Really, he was just confused. That’s all.” Haley had never been good at lying.

They leave her, after that, perhaps having realized they won’t get anything from her. The truth will not come from her, not today. She ignores the tired look they give her when she asks for a note to give Aaron’s professors. So that she can get his work or maybe just make sure he’s not being too penalized. And again, as the doctor signs, he asks if Aaron’s ever done anything like this. “This--this accident.” And she knows exactly what he’s doing. Trying to guide her to the right answer. Her answer is solid. No. Never. And she leaves him to go sit with Aaron.

The nurses come in and out. Looking but never saying. They move over his body and he lets them so long as she is there. Within reach and she always is. She finds magazines and books and spends too much of her time convincing herself that if he’d meant it, she would have noticed. That everyone else is wrong. If the signs are there then it’s not that hard to notice! Fuck this cognitivie dissonance. She’s smart. She would see.

Right?

He’s just smoking more because he’s stressed out.

Normal college students struggle to balance a sleep schedule.

Aaron is always withdrawn.

He’s moody because he’s not sleeping.

These signs aren’t meant for him. They mean nothing. And she repeats it again and again until she starts to believe it. The signs don’t mean anything.

Now, she stands with her back to Aaron. Her arms crossed on her chest, finding the courage to dare them to question her. What lie will she conjure for the fresh cuts on his arm? Not even healed. Probably done last night in the bathroom with the kit he taped to the bottom of the sink. With the razors she pretends not to see wrapped in toilet paper. But she’s afraid to say something. They’ve been together for half a decade and he’s only just now started sleeping without a shirt. Only just allowed her to see his body. The cuts and the scars both from his own hand and his father’s.

But they don’t say anything. Perhaps it’s too taboo but no one says anything.

The signs mean nothing. He smokes because he always has. He’s withdrawn because he always has been. Aaron is and always has been these signs. So, he’s fine.

He’s fine.

They get married at the end of the next semester. He’s had months to recover but the body isn’t so quick to forgive. His voice is rough from where they had to intubate him for so long but the therapist all assure them that with time his voice will lose its rasp and he’ll sound like himself again. His classmates poke at him for his “time-off” and he’d prefer they think him a spoiled brat off partying than what he really is. A disaster. One misstep away from trying again.

He never voices this. He doesn’t tell the therapists or Haley.

“I want to apply to the academy.”

Marriage is not even marginally the hardest thing he’s been forced to understand. He knows what he’s doing when he makes Haley his sole beneficiary-- asides from his textbooks which he wants to go to Jessica because she’s still bitter he “wasted” himself with the bitterness of law. But marriage is easy. Giving himself is second nature. He never thinks about the little things she clings to. How he always remembers to put the seat down and cooks dinner or washes the dishes. He’s not normal.

But this sudden change of pace takes her by surprise. “The-- The academy?” At first, she thinks of films and actors and actresses. That sort of academy but bitterly, sickly she remembers how close they are to Quantico. About David Rossi & Jason Gideon, who he met two weeks ago and hasn’t stopped talking about since. There’s a flush to his face, excitement she hasn’t seen in the longest time. And she wants to say yes but she can’t be certain this isn’t some new method he’s found to hurt himself.

He nods, shoveling corn and green beans into his mouth. Happy, she realizes. He’s happy.

“It’ll be in the fall so I’d have a few more months left with the District Attorney.”

No. She wants to say no so badly. The last thing they need is a gun. As if she doesn’t already check the knives over, counting and recounting the razors he uses to shave. Convinced he’ll try again. But she can’t say no because she doesn’t have a good reason. They’re financially stable. She’s working at a school only down the street and joining the academy won’t be taxing. It’ll be a bit of a money cut but he’s not making bank with the DA anyhow. He’s too smart to fail the courses but, as twisted as she knows it is, she thinks he’ll get hung up. He’ll need a physical and have to pass psych evaluations. There’s no way they let him through. 

“Okay,” she decides, returning back to dinner. It kills her to see him smirk and celebrate while she sits certain that they won’t allow him in. There she plans what she will do to protect him of the recoil. Of what will, undoubtedly, occur. A safety net that he can fall into.

But the call comes and the cake she’d been making-- vanilla with rainbow sprinkles and blueberry pancakes cooling by it’s side-- to console him turns into a celebratory one. He’s done it. Training and evals, passed. Made records won awards. She’s got herself one hell of a federal agent.

Jessica comes down, smiling and with a bag in hand. She hates this development nearly as much as Haley but is much better at hiding it. “Look at you,” Jessica mumbles in amazement. She turns him over, fingers finding his hardened muscles through the sleeves of his sweater. Looking for something, anything to clue her in one what’s happening behind his dark eyes but all she sees is happiness and she can’t help but wonder how long that will last. “You were nothing but a scrawny kid and they’ve turned you into a man and a half.”

There it is, that half-strangled puff of laughter. He smiles, dimples, and chin, and whole face. A man, she is reminded, not that fifteen-year-old prone to drinking in the woods and getting knocked down in the halls. He quit smoking that month and Haley did too. For once, he started taking care of himself. Not as if he never had before but suddenly there were just things he did that he had never before.

He stopped cutting. Which had been harder than losing the cigarettes. She only noticed in passing and could never really pride him on the achievement. Never draw attention to it. But she’d see the scabs healing when he wrapped an arm around her bare hips. Eventually, there were no scabs. Only scars.

“I love you,” she reminds him because she’s not sure if this will last.

And his eyes always twinkle just a little when she says it. Pleasantly surprised each time. “I love you too.”

He gets posted in Seattle and as they’re preparing for the move she watches him closely. As it turns out, she’s the one afraid not him. The world seems to open up, right then, for him and selfishly she thinks about everything she’s just left behind. No, she realizes. It’s not selfish. She worries about him, he worries about her. She’s worried about herself and he worries about himself. It’s a balance and no good things come without a little give.

Seattles is okay.

She tutors a young boy with epilepsy that has fallen behind do to a spout of recent hospitalization. He reminds her so feverishly of Aaron that she naturally takes to him. His name is Sam and his hair is blonde and his eyes the same soft brown as Aaron’s. He’s smart and funny one day and sad and silent the next. The last decade she’s spent living at Aaron’s side has made her ambidextrous to this behaviour and she doesn’t blink.

Aaron spends his days folded into case files, not all that different from when they were in Virginia but he’s lighter. They both are. He doesn’t seem even bothered by the rain. Smiling each time he comes in soaked to the bone to chase her around, shaking the rain from his hair onto her.

One night, she rolls over and attaches herself to his back. She’s antsy and he’s an insomniac so she’s not too surprised when he tangles his fingers with hers over his stomach and hums to answer the question she hasn’t asked yet.  Breath ghosting over the back of his neck, she asks, “Do you still want to have kids?”

He chuckles, turning slightly so she can see the silhouette of his nose and lips as he answers her. “Mmm, ten.” Slowly, moving her legs and twisting, he faces her. So that his forehead is against hers and kisses her. “Wanna make one?” he asks teasingly, fingers skimming the skin peaking out from under her shirt. “I hear it’s pretty easy.”

She hits him but deepens the kiss, allowing her hand to slide over his hips and squeeze his butt. It makes her laugh and he just shakes his head. “I want to talk about kids,” she reminds him, breathlessly as his hand snakes up underneath her shirt to cup her bare breast. “Not ten,” she whispers, pulling his head closer as he kisses her neck. “One or two. At least one boy.” He hums and she doesn’t even need to consider if he’s listening or not because he always is. “We could adopt.”

He smiles, placing a hand on both sides of her head, completely overtop her now. She whines a little as he sits up, extracting his body from the tangle of hers. “We could foster even more,” he offers, because he’s thought about it. “Have a few, adopt a few, and be one of those sweet old couples that fosters every kid they can find.”

She squints her eyes at him reaching up and bopping his nose. “You have a savior complex,” she whispers. Which they both know isn’t true. He’s a helper, a watcher. What else would you have him do? He’s never been one to sit by. But she thinks about it. Long after that night and later that night. When she rolled over and he’d fallen asleep in a massive tangle like he always does. This man doesn’t know how to exist without creating a mess. His desk is never neat and he can’t sleep without one half of his body stuck in the sheets.

She considers having a child exactly like him. With his exact brown eyes and those dimples. Adopting one that slowly becomes a part of them. Learning there little habits. A child with hair to dark to be Aarons but too light to be hers that like dancing around the kitchen with her and has that soft, strong way of speaking that Aaron does. Kids. With him.

They aren’t compatible.

She knows she shouldn’t have pushed when the scabs come back. It’s not bad, well… The cuts are small and low in number but she knows they’re there long before she sees them. He starts to sleep in long sleeves again. She sees them when he’s in the shower. Three or four on each arm and he’s been wearing the shirts for a month so it’s not that bad. He’s certain done worse. He’s just got a lot of pressure on him at the moment.

She lets it go.

“I haven’t had my period in a while,” she says over dinner. She told herself to wait for those cuts to heal but they never do.

He chokes on his food. He hasn’t been eating a lot and she thinks he might be smoking again. Which she would point out but she might just be paranoid. Sam got sick last week, had a seizure that she had seen, and she’s a little ashamed to admit she picked it back up to soothe herself. Unsure and unable to tell Aaron about it. How could she? It had nearly scared her from the topic of children, what would it do to him.

“How--” his voice cuts off. He doesn’t mean “how”. He knows exactly how. They talked about children and have been careless. Two scared people hoping that if they pretend to not want this with every burning fiber of their beings they might get it. He can’t remember the last time he used a condom and her birthcontrol has suddenly disappeared from the bathroom sink.

“How long?”

She puts her fork down. “Three months.” They’ve been trying twice that long. “I have a test,” she tells him, trying to hide her excitement. His eyes meet hers and she reads him like her favorite book. “I could take it.” Their lonely kitchen is filled with the sound of scraping chair the two of them fumbling to move.

“Oh.”

It’s negative.

Aaron’s mouth is dry, he doesn’t know why he’s so disappointed.

“We can keep trying,” she soothes, trying not to shake or cry. Even though she wants to throw that stupid test against the wall. Tears fall down her cheek and she looks up to see his own gather.

He shakes his head.

Jessica comes down the next week and pretends not to notice the return of the long sleeves. Aaron greets her with a smile and kisses her cheek. Telling her about everything but that test. The hope so swiftly taken from them. She takes Haley to a clinic. They count her eggs and smile, assuring her that she’s young, healthy, and her eggs are in fantastic shape. She should consider herself lucky, it should be easy for her to have children.

Easy.

Clearly, they have never met her husband.

His sperm count is low. Enough that the doctor’s face falls a little as he explains their options. It’s still possible to do this on their own but they shouldn’t be ashamed if things need a little help.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

But he is ashamed and he counts out each offense on his skin.

Sam, the boy she tutored, dies shortly after they learn all of this. His little body just couldn’t take all the stress.

Haley feels selfish but she’s glad she was no where near him when it happened.

A week later, Aaron comes home, hangs his coat on the rack and sits down on the edge of the couch. “I saw David Rossi today.” His eyes are haunted by the dark circles under them. She notices them but the people in his office never seem to. They comment his quick work and sharp mind which is why Dave had been so quick to accept him. Aaron’s curiosity has always been the brightest burning part of him. “He wants me to move back to Virginia. Take some profiling courses. Join his team.”

Aaron has read everything about the Behavioral Science Unit he can get his hands on. So, by extension, she also knows a lot about them. Every time he finds something worth excitement he finds her to recount each detail. He wants this, she knows.

She’s making muffins, trying to keep her mind off of Sam. When he tells her this, what David Rossi wants from her husband she’s furious. Fuck that man. What do they care about him? They have a life here. But… they really don’t. The lease on their apartment is ending and she keeps trying to decide if she really wants to renew it. Sam is dead. Aaron has a job opportunity.

“Do you want to move back to Virginia?” she turns, to him. Pressing her hips across the oven and watching him.

He looks down at the floor. Does he? He hadn’t really considered that. Does he want to work with David Rossi? Yes, very much so. So, he nods. “I want this,” he says.

She brushes the wet dough on her hands off on the apron on her chest and moves across the kitchen to him. Placing a hand on both sides of his face, she kisses him. “Okay,” she whispers. “Then lets go.”

David immediately loves him.

I work too slowly. 

I get too attached. 

I’m only good with victims. 

I am not a good profiler.

But David sees that spark. The yearning for more, fire hissing and popping and Dave is eager to throw gasoline on him. To see him rise and consume them all. “You’re a bright kid,” Dave commends, one afternoon. They’re having dinner on the way home. Dave has no girlfriend or wife to call so he’s very content to get a little tipsy and let Aaron drive him home. Aaron is wondering what Haley’s doing, Dave thinks this is adorable. 

“Um,” Aaron can feel a deflection on his tongue but Dave covers his hand with his own.

With far too much seriousness for a tipsy man he says, “alright. You’re next lesson is acceptance, alright? I give you a compliment and you say--” Aaron just stares back at him. “You say thank you, Dave.”

He nods his head. 

Dave blinks. This goddamn kid, he swears. But he’s so enchanting, charming in his youth. Bashful but always looking, watching. Dave wants nothing more than to see him smile even more. To see him grow steady and assured in his abilities. And that it almost taken from him. A sniper in some case that feels more like a movie, something that happens to someone you’re only lightly attached to. That you gasp at but forget about in a day or two. The blood that just sprays, thick and heavy and hot. Dave’s never lost an agent. 

He’s lost men but that was war. This isn’t war. It’s just profiling. His people aren’t supposed to die and the kid-- fucking Aaron, his Aaron, almost died. 

“You must be David.”

Dave is sleeping in the room when she comes. A thin little thing with straw blonde hair and a very scorned looking face. Aaron has gone on and on about her. She’s beautiful and he can see, immediately, why Aaron’s so drawn to her. As stupid as it is, he smiles when he sees her. So tiny and yet drawn up like she’s ready for a fight. 

“That must make you Haley.”

She hums, a habit he finds cute. Humming fits Aaron well. He’s a silent man but not Haley. Aaron had told him they had been together since they were kids, high school sweet hearts. It must be a bit of Aaron’s spite she has drawn up as she walks through the room to stand at her husband’s side. Stoic. 

The worst is yet to come. 

The shot had been surprisingly clean. Aaron would need a sling and to keep his arm delicately strapped to his chest to allow his shattered clavicle to repair. He wakes two hours later, to the soft hum of Haley and Dave whispering over him. He’s not coherent and he’s in pain and falls right back to sleep the moment Haley takes his hand. A softly sighed “oh” on his lips as his eyes shut and he’s gone again. 

Dave doesn’t say anything about the scars. He knows about them. (Do you really think they’d let anybody into the FBI without making notes in files, annotations for men like David Rossi to read and re-read a dozen times as they consider allowing men like Aaron Hotchner onto their teams?) 

“Haley?” The second time he’s distraught. Panicking. He remembers the warmth of his bath, the Advil bottle in his palm. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, just as he had when he woke the first time, all those years ago. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.” He remembers thinking how uncomfortable he was in the tub. How he wished he had a pillow or was shorter so at least his knees could sink in. That he could see his clothes plastered to his skin. 

He mistakes her momentary confusion as disbelief and he grows agitated. Gasping in pain but twisting and pleading. “I-- I--,” his sentence is cut off by his strangled cry. He moves his hips the wrong way and his shoulder is pressed down into the mattress.

It breaks her heart just as much this time as it had last time. To see his face pinched in pain and confusion. But she is shocked in place. 

Dave stands, grabbing Aaron’s unrestrained hand. His hand wrapping completely around until his finger rest against the inside of Aaron’s wrist. His hand engulfing Aaron’s. The scars moving under his touch. “You’re okay,” Dave assures him softly. He smiles, priding Aaron when he manages to whisper Dave’s name in soft shock. He pats Aaron’s cheek, “there he is. My bright boy. How are you? You okay?”

His sense come back to him. The memories slipping into place. “Hurts,” he rasps. Gradually, his body calms and he stops kicking out against nothing. “My arm hurts,” he whispers, his eyes full of tears as he looks between them. Trusting one of them will stop it. One of them will help. 

Haley leans down and presses a kiss to his temple, brushing her fingers through his hair. “You’re okay sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. He hums, turning into her touch. She never calls him sweetheart. 

She wipes his tears away and Dave says nothing. At that moment, she doesn’t know him to well but eventually, she’ll learn that his silence in that moment was new. Dave never shuts up. She’ll crave that silence in his company. But he’d been thinking, watching and she’d been preoccupied. He was taking in what he was seeing to stored for a later date. Though he had thought for theory not practice. How wrong he, in fact, was. 

He retires a year later. Aaron and Haley are just getting the courage to try again for a kid. 

When he returns he’s thoroughly surprised to find things haven’t entirely changed. The bits that have changed are encouraging. 

“How much do you know?” Morgan asks him one night, a little too tipsy to be having this conversation. But he’s been sitting on it for months and he’s got to know. It’s his job to protect the team and while he and Aaron always seem to butt heads, he won’t leave him out of that equation. “About… About Hotch.”

Not Aaron, anymore. He’s a whole new person. The Unit Chief, strong stoic and up until that moment Dave had even thought hidden. His little secret tucked beneath those multi-layered suits. Evidently not if Morgan knows. “Should we be discussing this?” he asks. It’s an answer within itself. If he knows they shouldn’t be discussing it then he knows about it. 

Morgan understand this. He pops a handful of nuts in his mouth, chewing them thoughtfully. “He’s important to us,” Morgan says after a long while. 

Dave nods. “He’s important to me too.”

Neither fully explains where they stand. How much any given member of the team knows. 

Spencer Reid isn’t stupid and even if he were, he’s not oblivious. He’s never seen the scars on the inside of his superior’s wrist. Never seen any of the scars for that matter. There’s still something about Hotch, nameless and without a good proper name, that Spencer cues in on. Self-destructive with control issues. They never talk about it. It’s safer that way. 

It hurts Penelope to think about for too long. She’s seen the scars but she’d known what to look for and she’d looked. Even though she knew what she would find and knew it would hurt. Though she was never made to be the silent observing type, she doesn’t mention them. But sometimes she places little goodies in his go bag so that when he finds them he’s forced to be reminded that he’s loved. 

JJ knows the signs now. She was too slow the first time. Now she wears that burden around her neck each day. There’s something so raw about Aaron Hotchner but she doesn’t think he’s suicidal, not anymore at least. Maybe in another life, at a different time. Today, tomorrow, yesterday… he’s okay. But she’ll keep vigil. She watches. 

Though Emily hates his guts when she first arrived, she’s found herself close to his side over the course of the last few months. Enough to know more about him than the others. Maybe not because he tells her but because she’s simply there and it’s hard to hide things once you allow someone else that close. 

The divorce doesn’t come by too big of a surprise. 

Neither does Haley’s reaction.

“I need to ask you to do something for me,” Haley whispers. 

JJ is rocking Henry when Will comes in with the phone and she’s honestly surprised it’s taken Haley this long to get around to her. “Haley,” she responds, wondering if Haley is out there someplace rocking Jack. “You know you don’t have to ask.” JJ and Haley had gotten along great when JJ first joined. JJ was the only girl on the team and Haley knows how Hotch can be. 

“He doesn’t mean it, honest.” Haley had defended. Referencing Hotch’s more elusive if not silent nature. 

JJ had brushed it off, “oh no. He’s a sweetheart.” And was and still is. He very well was probably the only person who didn’t give her a hard time. 

“I know Aaron isn’t taking… all of this well.” That is an understatement. He’s not doing anything drastic but starving away in his office running on caffeine and random sandwiches one of them forces him to eat isn’t thriving. “Can you just look after him? I would-- you know I would but we can’t do this--this balance if I am always there to catch him. That doesn’t change anything.”

JJ closes her eyes, leaning her face down to Henry. Allowing the soft scent of baby and lotion to soothe the anger and pain she feels swelling up. “You know I will,” she promises. “He’ll be okay, Haley. We’ll get him through this.” The call ends shortly after that. Haley asks about Henry and JJ about Jack. And the two part. It’s better that way. 

The divorce is the easy part. 

Foyet attacks and nine new scars find their way on his body and suddenly they all know that those aren’t the ones they need to worry about. 

“Emily, Em--Emily.” She’s sleeping in his guest room, curled under the warm sheets. A cat, he thinks dizzily, as she stretches and hums sleepy at him. Arching her back and stretching her back and arms out like he’s seen plenty of street cats do. The kind that aren’t bothered when you come marching through their alley. 

She winces at the light but finds him. The apprehension on his pained face and the dark, wet rag he’s holding with his left hand over his right. 

“I-- There was-- It was an accident,” he stumbles.

The wet rag she realizes is soaked in his blood. Crimson. She wakes quickly, suddenly cold. Throwing the blankets off her legs. He just stands in the doorway, leaning heavily to the side. “What did you do?” she demands, afraid to look and see. Afraid to see. She covers his hand with hers, pressing against the wound. Her mind turns this over slowly. His blood dropping in fat drops by their feet. “You have to go to the hospital.”

His eyes flash with something but she knows it’s not remorse for what he’s done. “It was on accident,” he rasps. “I’m sorry.”

She knows. “To the hospital,” she instructs, guiding him through the dark hall. He’s dazed, clearly confused. It takes her a moment to wrap his coat around his shoulder. “Hold it,” she mumbles, wrapping his fingers back around his wrist. Then she’s shoving her own feet into shoes not thinking twice about the fact that they’re both in pajamas and she in shorts. “Aaron,” she stands back up and he’s loosened his hold. The way she says his name shocks him. “Put fucking pressure on it.” 

She steers him to the car, guiding him by his hips. By the time she moves to the driver’s seat he’s pressed his head to the door’s cold window, turned a nasty grey color. “Aaron,” she shakes him roughly. Paying no mind to the wounds on his chest that haven’t healed. “Stay awake.” She’s not going to loose him like this. She hits him several more times, it’s one jarring him back to life. She knows she’s hit a few bruises and not healed places on his body but he’s slipping and he’s not going to die in her passenger seat. 

“You’re a goddamn idiot.” she seethes. They’re outside the emergency room. She’s pulling his thin grasshopper like legs out of the car, grunting when the rest of him comes with them. His head finds her shoulder and she stops, holding him there for just a second as they both collect themselves. “Are you okay?” she asks softly. The first truly kind thing she’s had to say all night. He nods. “Okay,” she pats his back. “Come on, jackass, we’ve got plenty more fighting to do.” 

They won’t let her back with him which she almost hopes causes a scene. But Hotch goes listlessly into the wheelchair and silently allows them to take him away. He doesn’t fight. Which is worse than if he’d begged them to let her come. But he goes, his bloody rag in his lap. Head tilted resting against his chest. 

She calls Morgan first. He tells her not to call anyone else. It’s two in the morning and they need the sleep. He’ll be there in twenty minutes. He’s there in ten and when he sees her sitting there he doesn’t say a word, just wraps his coat around her bare arms. They sit, shoulder-to-shoulder, neither saying anything for a long time. 

Eventually, he can’t stand the silence. “Did he do it on purpose?” Morgan asks. 

She shrugs. She doesn’t know. “He said he was sorry.” The raspy quality of her own voice surprises her. Looking down at her hands, she scratches at her nails. Frowning at the blood she pulls up. They all do things they shouldn’t. He just… It wasn’t on purpose. It wouldn’t… He wouldn’t…

“Emily Prentiss?”

She looks up, surprised to find a nurse standing there. How long have they been sitting here? Not saying a thing. Just thinking. Assuming the worst. “Yes?” She stands, suddenly too aware of how silly she must look. Her night shirt covered in blood and in shorts that show all of her legs and-- only after looking down-- does she realize she’s wearing a pair of Hotch’s shoes. 

“Mr. Hotchner is very dehydrated. We’re going to keep him here for the night. You can come back, if you’d like. He asked for you.” 

She glances back at Morgan and then at the nurse. “I want to but,” she motions to Morgan, “can we both go?” She can see the hesitation wash over the nurse. “You can ask Hotch-- Agent Hotchner. His name is Derek, Hotch won’t mind.” 

The nurse caves with a nod and motions for them to follow her. 

He’s in a section marked off by curtain. Asleep with his heavily bandaged hand curled on his chest and the other by his side. They’ve bandaged both, the left with a few bandages versus the heavy gauze of the right. He sleeps but it’s not deep no more than the shallow naps he’s been getting lately.

Emily moves to his left side and waits for the nightmare she know will grip him. 

“He didn’t… He wasn’t trying to, was he?”

Emily rubs her thumb his knuckles. “Morgan?” If he was, would he have come to get her? Would he have covered the wound himself, first? Trying to stop the blood on his own? Morgan looks up. “You can’t talk about it. Promise me, you won’t ask him about it.” That would kill him. 

Morgan stands in the corner, arms crossed on his chest. “Will you talk to him about it?”

She doesn’t want to. “Yes.” But someone has to. 

“If he does it again--”

Emily cuts him off with a scowl. “He won’t.”

Morgan breaks a little, sadden by how vehemently she believes this. “Okay,” he caves. “Okay.” 

He does. 

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 28 - Defy

Title: Irreverent Pt. 28 - Defy Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 1690

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You were making lunch for yourself, Hotch, and Jack when you heard the doorbell ring. Hotch looked at you and you nodded at him to get the door. You can vaguely hear him grabbing the door and talking to someone briefly before you hear a voice you haven't heard in years.

"Y/N, you should answer the door to your own home yourself. It's impolite to ask guests to answer for you."

You felt your stomach clench at the familiar nagging voice.

Hotch was standing in your living room with your Mother. She stood in front of him, deftly removing her gloves and giving you her patented look of disdain. What on earth was she doing here? You hadn't seen your mother since graduation. Once you'd stopped attending the mandatory family events she never once reached out or came by. Your father had tried, but she never cared. So the fact that she was standing in your living room was causing your brain to go into hyperactive mode.

"Mother," you swallowed, walking out from the kitchen and into the living room. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, if you would answer your phone calls, I wouldn't have to come here in person." She sniffed and proceeded to walk around your living room and take a seat on the couch. You looked at Hotch and he shot you a quick reassuring smile.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself instead of freaking out that she was here. "Mother, this is my friend - coworker - Aaron Hotchner," you tell her, indicating towards Hotch. "Hotch, as you might have gathered, this is my mother." The pained smile on your face does not escape his notice.

But Hotch is ever so polite.  His presence is the only thing keeping you from being rude and asking her to simply leave. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. L/N." He smiles and she returns it with a haughty look, still surveying your home.

Right then, Jack comes running in and bumps into your legs. You quickly kneel down to his height. "Hey, you okay? What's up?"

"Y/N, where are the paints?" He asks, as he looks around at his father and notices the stranger sitting on the couch.

"They should be in your room Bud. Check in the drawers." You're very aware of the fact that your mother is watching you interact with a child that is very obviously not your child, who just so happens to have a room in your house. You hated that she was here and able to get a glimpse into your life. A life she had no right to be a part of.

He nods. You turn back up to see her looking at you expectantly. "Mother, this is Jack."

"My son," Hotch interjects, sensing your unease. "Jack, please say hello to Y/N's mother, Mrs. L/N," he prompts.

"Hello Mrs. L/N, it's nice to meet you," you hear Jack say precociously. His father taught him well. "Y/N," he says next, turning back to you, "can I go look upstairs for the paints?"

"Yeah, of course. If you can't find that, let me know and I'll come help." You quickly smile and run a hand through Jack's hair before he turns and runs back upstairs.

Turning your attention back to your mother, you see the shock evident in her face. She was not expecting this when she walked arrived at your door today. This bizarre picture of domesticity that you painted with Hotch and Jack. It was foreign to her.

You wanted her gone, so you asked Hotch to man the stove while you spoke with your mother. He nodded and touched your arm reassuringly before retreating to the kitchen.

Hotch watched as you walked over to the armchair nearest to your mother's spot on the couch and lowered yourself into it. He had his eyes on the stove but his ears were pointed to the living room. Everything he knew about this woman had his guard up.

"Mother, why are you here?" Your voice was softer, more hesitant.

"This is a very interesting setup you've built for yourself. Setting up house with an older man and his child."

"Hotch is a friend, Mother," you reminded her.

"Hm, a friend whose child has a room of his own in your home. Do you think I'm stupid, Y/N?" Her low voice is filled with poison as she speaks to you. "If you had simply married Matthew, you could have had this for yourself instead of stealing someone else's."

Her words caused your heart to ache. She thought you were having some sort of dirty affair with Hotch. You could feel the pin pricks of tears in your eyes accompanied by pure rage but she was the last person you'd ever allow to see you cry. How dare she barge into your home, accuse you of stealing someone's husband, and then remind you of a relationship that you were all too eager to forget forever?

However, you controlled your reaction, knowing that Hotch was still there and didn't need another terrifying view into your awful family. You asked her again, "What are you doing here?"

"I refuse to go through lawyers to get what is rightfully mine. You'd think after being married to the man for years, I wouldn't have to suffer this disgrace!" She was referring to the fact that your father's will had you and your brothers named as the primary beneficiaries of his estate. Your mother was given a small annual allowance, far less than was needed to maintain her lifestyle. You'd wanted very little to do with the matter, however with Dominic in WITSEC still and Julian no longer around, you were the person set to inherit everything. You'd already put aside half for Dominic and were working with the Marshalls to make sure he and his family would be alright. Your Mother - per your lawyer - had been harassing him and your father's lawyers ever since. You wanted to just give her what she asked for, but your lawyer was advising against it as her demands were getting increasingly outlandish. He'd have a field day when you told him about this.

You were determined to keep this as civil as possible still, however. "As you've been told before, I will be going through our lawyers to arrive at a decision we can both live with. I am doing my best to make sure that you are taken care of, however I will not simply hand over everything. Papa was not a good man and I'd like for his money to be used for some good at least."

Her eyes flashed at your words and you knew she was entering into the state where she said anything she wanted. "I will not stand by while you squander all the money on whatever ridiculous cause you've picked up this week. The only good thing you ever did was agree to marry Matthew - he would have taken care of you and I wouldn't have to see the day where you think you're better than us because you're a middling police officer instead of being someone I could proudly point to as my daughter. You have been a disappointment for years now and this whole act you have of being kind and generous and wanting to do good in the world is disgustingly transparent! You even ruined the Matthew thing despite him being so accepting and understanding of your deficiencies - "

"Do not talk to her that way." You turned to see Hotch suddenly standing behind you. He looked completely pissed off in a way you hadn't seen before. "Y/N is amazing and kind and generous and accomplished and everything she has achieved is a credit to her and her alone. She did everything in spite of you and your husband."

You couldn't believe he was standing in your living room and telling off your mother that way. Does he really think that? It's Hotch, of course he does. You could feel the warmth coursing through your body and his presence emboldened you.

Standing, you turned to your mother who still sat on the couch, dazed at being called out. "Mother, please leave. I never wish to see you again. I will do my very best to ensure that you get what you need, but if you ever show up around me again, I'll make sure you get nothing."

Your voice must have been filled with true conviction, because she went from looking dazed to enraged in a moment. However, she must have taken your threat seriously. She stood and looked between you and Hotch, before she said, "Fine." and then proceeded to walk out the door, slamming it behind her.

You looked back at Hotch who now only seemed completely concerned. He reached towards you and you allowed yourself to be pulled into his chest. "Thank you." Your words were muffled against his chest but he heard you nonetheless. You wanted this moment to last forever. So, of course the fire alarm went off.

You watched as Hotch went to go take care of the pan you'd both forgotten on the stove. Lunch would be delayed. You watched as he deftly cleaned up and then began to chop vegetables again so you could start over. You always felt safe and taken care of with Hotch. Even in the field, being partnered with him gave you a sense of security despite how worried you'd get when he threw himself in the path of an Unsub. He was such a good leader and such a good friend and he was always warm and of course everyone else thought he was grumpy but you'd never understood that. He was funny and attractive. He was in control and he was so smart - he always saw the full picture of the profile faster than anyone else. You admired his uncanny ability to be a good boss and then turn around and be a good father to Jack.

I love him.

No thought had ever been clearer in your mind.

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Ch.13)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight  Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 13: I Know You

(Warning: This chapter contains Smut!)

Claire realized she had stared down the barrel of a gun more times in this past week than she did in her entire life. She didn't really appreciate that and gave Lowery an insulted glare as he came a bit closer. Despite her perilous situation, her Redfield temper got the best of her.

"You always point a gun at students? Not exactly welcoming."

"Not typically," Lowery answered warily. "But then again, you aren't a RCU student, are you? And it never was your intention tonight, was it?"

It seemed as though William's brush off of this paranoid, quiet professor of little relevance was poorly advised. What Claire had forgotten was that William was in a position where everyone was inferior and of no threat to him, not only because of his infamy and prowess, but apparently from who he also had as a guard dog.

Either way, Claire now had a serious problem on her hands. And Wesker wasn't on the other side for help.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Claire replied coolly.

"Really? So, you don't have my missing file from the lab? The one my business partner said you dropped right in front of him?" Lowery inquired skeptically. "It's a good thing he showed up, otherwise I don't think I would've been able to catch up with you."

Claire kept calm, her eyes flicking back and forth from his steely face to the gun trained at her chest. All she had on her was her knife. She couldn't slip up now, otherwise she would be arriving back home in a body bag. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Oh, it's you. I was tipped off that someone would try to steal our plans tonight. I had no idea it would be someone like you though. Hand them over or I will shoot you."

"Are you crazy? Shooting someone over some documents?"

He stepped closer, getting impatient. "I have no problem killing for them."

Claire couldn't hand it over. She had to protect Chris. The file was a requirement needed for her freedom. Besides, she was more afraid of Wesker than she was of this incompetent prick.

The file was hidden in her coat under her arm. Claire slightly raised her hands, even away from the knife in her pocket, mind plotting. "Come search me yourself. I don't have it!"

Lowery closed the short distance between them, guarded but also anxious to get this over with. As soon as he got close enough, Claire snatched the arm with the gun and pushed it away from her, kicking him hard in the groin and then slamming him into the bus behind her. He yelped in surprise, but in her attempt to disarm him, he recovered faster than she thought he would. He shoved her, attempting to grab her and they both slipped in the snow and tumbled to the ground. The file flew from the safety of her parka, landing in the snow just beside them.

The middle-aged professor pinned Claire face down, icy snow burning her face as she inhaled some up her nose.

"You stupid bitch, who sent you? Who're you working for?!"

Claire was able to pull out her knife. She blindly stabbed it up and behind her. The blade went deep in somewhere, his thigh, she guessed. He screamed in pain, rolling off and Claire sprang to freedom. Her initial instinct was to stomp his face in, but that gun came up to her face as he bled in the snow. Time seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger. She was done for.

Lowery's hand popped like a balloon, barely within the blink of an eye, bright and red. He cried out in shock and agony again, the gun flinging from his hand, blood spraying across the snow like spilled paint. Claire immediately snatched up the weapon and aimed it right back at him, not really understanding what had happened but not taking any chances. That's when she noticed the sleek, short dagger sticking out from his hand, the tip of the blade having gone completely through his palm.

Before it could completely register, a tall, muscular form stepped out of the shadows from between the buses and stalked over to the injured professor. Claire directed the gun at the stranger, but soon recognized the silver-haired man that Wesker had talked to beneath the streets of Raccoon City. Nikolai Zinoviev.

Despite the situation, the Russian mercenary had a playful grin on his scruffy face. "Looks like you picked fight with wrong girl, comrade! She's a feisty one, eh?"

Lowery hissed and groaned between gnashed teeth, glaring up at the snickering newcomer. "Nikolai? What the hell? You tipped Aaron and me off about her, why are you doing this?"

"Oh, sorry, friend. Our agreement expired because my new employer bought out yours and doubled price for his own. How is it you Americans say? Ah, right…money talks."

His hands may have been up in submission, but there was no mistaking the spite on Lowery's face. "I'll double his price…right now. Just give me my file and give me the girl."

"Just try it," Claire warned, pointing Lowery's own gun at him.

Nikolai chuckled. "She's just not that into you, comrade. Besides, she is under strict protection of my employer. If she gets just a scratch, it's my head. You understand, yes?"

Holding his bleeding hand, the college professor's defiant stare cracked, replaced with fear. "You gonna kill me?"

The younger Redfield did not like the sleazy grin on the silver-haired Russian's face. She refused to give Lowery what he wanted, but she didn't think he deserved to die. However, she got a more concerning feeling in her gut by Nikolai's smug look and shallow shrug. "Welllllll, that's where it gets interesting. I was supposed to kill anyone that got wind of our scheme here. But that little detail on agreement was outbid by his partner, without my employer's knowledge, of course! He wishes to speak with you, Dr. Lowery. You have time to chat, hmm friend?"

"W-Who?"

"You will know when we get there. Stay positive! Perhaps you two can make deal. Then we can put whole thing behind us!"

Nikolai stepped over to Lowery, holding out his hand, offering to help the wounded man to his feet. There was an underlying threat to his tone that Lowery had no choice but to come along. Claire felt his powerlessness as he glanced around, apprehensive. He raised his uninjured hand to take Nikolai's, but in the blink of an eye, the mercenary grabbed the professor and knocked him out cold.

"What the hell?!" Claire spat.

Nikolai pulled the knife from Lowery's hand and bandaged him up. He wiped the knife on his pants and inserted it into a cylindrical tube. It clicked in Claire's mind that the knife had been shot out of that when it struck Lowery. A ballistic knife. The Russian mercenary pocketed his weapon and started dragging the younger man through the snow. Claire watched, aghast, and then stomped after him.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"The white SUV just over there," Nikolai nodded with his head. "That is our ride."

"You are my ride?"

"Ms. Wong received new orders. So now you and I get to spend some quality time together, printsessa."

She knew well enough that whatever he had called her was some kind of pet name and that rolled off her skin like cold sludge. "Fuck that. I'll walk."

He wasn't fazed by her attitude, in fact, she was sure he was fed by it. That same sleazy grin appeared as he seemed to drag the man with little effort, way stronger than he looked. "In this weather? You catch cold easily. Besides, it is my responsibility to return you to Wesker."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

Nikolai snorted as he loaded the unconscious professor into the backseat of the vehicle . "Does it? You know what else is personal? Your brother, Chris, yeah?"

Claire froze, having only taken three defiant steps away from this situation once Nikolai reached the SUV. She turned around, glaring. She aimed Lowery's gun at him, angry, protective, cornered.

"What do you know about my brother?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the same wily grin still in place, careful steps moving towards her and away from the SUV where Lowery was now locked away. "Oh, little of everything, I suppose. Address, schedule, hobbies..."

There was an underlying threat there. Her gut clenched, rolled like a dying animal. And all Claire could come to understand was that this dangerous mercenary knew this information with the sole purpose of killing her big brother.

In a split second the scarred mercenary disarmed her, flipping the gun around on her. Claire froze, breath hitching, and Nikolai playfully chortled.

"Ohhhh, too slow, little Claire!"

He was a complete blur, she could barely register what just happened. This man was dangerous. Very dangerous.

She kept his gaze with the dirtiest look she could muster, hiding her worry, exposing her anger. After all, if Nikolai spoke the truth about Wesker having her under his protection, what was there to fear? Especially of him?

"You're going to kill my brother?" Claire hissed.

"Only if you do not do as you're told. It's simply collateral, printsessa."

"Wesker fucking hired you to do this?"

Nikolai chuckled. "You're surprised? Comrade Wesker doesn't get his hands dirty unless he has to. Why would he when he has pawns or even paid professionals like myself?"

Claire wasn't surprised. But she was still livid. Feeding off of her anger, Nikolai continued to spite her.

"Don't worry, I'm only having little fun." He slipped the gun inside his coat and opened the front passenger door of the SUV for her. "Come along, printsessa. I take you back to where you belong. It is in my best interest that I return you in perfect condition."

Offended, she snapped, "I belong at home with my brother!"

Nikolai half-shrugged. God, she wanted to shoot that smug grin off his face. "That is not what comrade Wesker thinks."

"I don't give a damn what he thinks!"

The younger Redfield didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't go with Nikolai, he would kill her brother under orders from Wesker. But going with him also meant going into the open arms of the enemy.

Biting her tongue, fists clenched, she got inside the vehicle and her pompous companion closed the door and went around and got in the driver's seat. Claire looked back at the unconscious Lowery. Nikolai had tied his arms to the backseat in case he woke up.

"You are in interesting position," Nikolai stated after driving for a bit. "Both blessing and curse to have Wesker's protection. But even more interesting is how obsessed he seems with you."

"I'm just trying to get back to my normal life, whatever it takes."

Nikolai's hollow laugh filled the cab. "He's not going to let you go...not by what I saw."

Claire didn't say anything, both mad and upset that he was probably right. She stared out the window. Raccoon City life went on, even after dark. Busy, bustling, oblivious, day and night.

"He had girl like you awhile back...five, six years ago. Pretty little thing, not much older than you, red hair too. Emigrated here working for Umbrella, eastern Europe, I think."

"What happened to her?" Claire asked, suddenly interested.

Nikolai shrugged apathetically. "No one knows for sure. Most rumors revolve around her fleeing for some reason. Going into hiding. Personally, I think Wesker just got bored of her and ran her off. I guess we'll never really know."

Claire grew quiet, although more questions burned within her about this mysterious woman. Maybe it was best to leave well enough alone; but it did make her more curious about Wesker and the seemingly endless secrets he had. Just a while ago, she would have thought it impossible that Wesker would care about anyone but himself.

Her inner pondering got her the mercenary's sarcastic quip in return. "Oh, don't worry, Claire! She's long gone. Wesker has his eyes on you and you alone. He's all yours! Ahh, you don't know how many females would kill to be in your place right now."

Nikolai's creepy chortle unsettled her. She focused on the passing scenery outside her window. But perhaps it wasn't the mercenary's vile laugh that really unsettled her, but the way her pulse rocketed in tune with an excited warmth in her groin...

Claire began to wonder how they would get the unconscious Lowery out of the car and down into NEST when Nikolai parked the SUV in the alleyway behind an Umbrella pharmacy. Her inner questions were soon answered when a few men in black mercenary suits came outside. Nikolai barked orders at them in Russian as they yanked the professor out without an ounce of sympathy.

She had a real bad feeling when Nikolai motioned her to follow them. The pharmacy was closed, dark, but they went into the back where a security door was. A pharmacist was there waiting, dressed in her appropriate attire and swiped a keycard to allow them entry. She didn't look like she was being coerced or intimidated. In fact, she looked more annoyed than anything, as though letting these thugs through her business put a huge damper on her beauty sleep.

By the time they took a large elevator down into the sewers, Lowery started coming to. But the two hefty men carrying him under the arm pits would have no problem keeping him under control. They followed along the marked passageways that would take them to NEST.

"Oh God, no! Please, no!" Lowery cried, recognizing their surroundings. He fought with the men who carried him, pleaded even. "Just kill me now! Don't hand me over to that devil!"

But his cries went ignored. Claire felt bad for the man, even after he had tried to kill her. She didn't blame him for his futile fighting and begging. Wesker would surely condemn this man to a horrible death and write it off as some sort of accident, never to be questioned.

Even as they trekked through the clean, bright hallways of NEST, Lowery's cries for help and mercy went unanswered. Some Umbrella workers simply turned a blind eye while others paused to enjoy watching the man's misfortune.

They stopped at an intersection of hallways. Although Lowery had exhausted himself struggling with his captors, he still quietly sobbed for his life. He stared puffy-eyed at Claire and it hurt her to the bone. She was responsible for his fate. If only he hadn't followed her. If only he had let her go.

"You don't know who you're working for," he said to her. "He's a monster! The absolute worst!'

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want any of this to happen," Claire replied, feeling guilty. She wasn't sure he would believe her. "Wesker blackmailed me. I'm just trying to protect my brother."

Lowery's face scrunched up, and strangely he laughed. A snorty, "fuck-it-all" laugh that was more creepy than anything. "I wasn't talking about Wesker."

The college student was caught off guard, just assuming the professor was talking about her own captor. But it didn't take her long to realize who he was really talking about.

"Consider yourself lucky." His last words were muttered, bitter.

Nikolai nodded to his men, and they started dragging him off down one long, blindingly white hallway. Lowery had given up fighting, his eyes haunted, searing into hers as he was hauled off, probably never to be seen again.

"Come along, printsessa. Wesker awaits your return."

Claire hesitated, perturbed, telling herself that Lowery was a bad man and deserved what he got, and that she had to do what she did to save Chris. She joined Nikolai as they took a different route, her steps without as much pep as his, thinking.

"Ah, cheer up, Claire! You looked out for most important person. Yourself! This saves precious brother in end!"

She would've been insulted by his words if she hadn't been so damn confused on why Lowery was more afraid of William than he was of Wesker.

"What is William going to do to that man? Why was he more afraid of him than Wesker?"

Nikolai half-glanced at her, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "They're two different monsters, printsessa. There are fates worse than death if you haven't figured that out already."

Annette had said those very same words to her before. And although she had understood the concept, fearing that her blackmailing and enslavement to Wesker would go on forever, there was something about the way that Nikolai had said it that disturbed her on a deeper level.

"Who do you think has more empathy?"

Claire looked at him, confused. "William. Obviously."

Nikolai chuckled. "Then you do not know Birkin very well!" When she stayed quiet, he continued. "Wesker has more empathy, even if it's indirect most of time."

Claire scoffed at that. "Yeah, right."

"It's true! Take Dr. Lowery for example. Comrade Wesker would've just saved us all the trouble and put a bullet between his eyes. But Birkin has to have something more...exciting. Lowery would've preferred that bullet. Therefore, in such instance, Wesker has more empathy. And, well, there's you, isn't there? Most people would've died in your situation, but Wesker spared you...even if it was for nefarious motives. And the fact that he has given you his protection is quite telling!"

"What is William going to do?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Not for me to say. Unless, of course, you wish to purchase such secrets from me."

She glared at the greedy son of a bitch. "Not in your life."

Again, the Russian mercenary was amused and not at all insulted. "As you wish. But here is free advice, printsessa. Take it or leave it. The thing about Wesker and Birkin is that they do not have the capacity to care for anyone outside of their private circle. Wesker only cares for Birkin and his unbearingly cute daughter - besides himself, of course. And that care doesn't even extend to his own best friend's wife. But...there are some pretty convincing rumors that he cared about the last redhead that came before you. Birkin rarely cares for anyone outside his family and Wesker. Though from what I heard he's fond of you for some reason!"

Claire rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, he wasn't finished.

"Mark my words, printsessa. If one falls, the other will. Especially Birkin. Wesker will probably recover, perhaps be driven more by his hatred without Birkin to keep it at bay. But Birkin...he'll absolutely lose it. I give him two weeks before he's falling apart, showing the monster he really is, and I wouldn't doubt he'll eat his own family alive if that happens."

"You make it sound like that's going to happen soon."

"Nah...just eventually. Everybody makes mistakes, even comrade Wesker. One day they may have to reap what they have sown. And if comrade Sergei gets his wish, we will see these two partners in crime turn on each other like dogs when push comes to shove, common goals be damned. Ultimately, they're only out for themselves. Their symbiosis will come to an end one day, that's inevitable."

A large laboratory-like room came upon their left, long windows allowing Claire and Nikolai to peer inside as they made their way to the automatic door further down. Claire noticed right away that the Birkins were bickering over something near a large computer screen. Wesker was on the opposite side of the room on the phone, fingers on his other ear as if to tune his coworkers out. He was facing the window and so noticed them right away. Claire could tell by how his naked eyes caught them and he smirked.

But a surprise addition she wasn't expecting was Sherry. The little girl held up a piece of paper, trying to get her parents' attention. She went unnoticed…

When the automatic door slid open to let Claire and Nikolai into the room, Sherry was the only Birkin to notice. She looked over her shoulder with startled eyes. She barely looked at them, Claire didn't even have time to wave at her, before she spun and raced across the room. And just like the younger Redfield saw before, the child took refuge behind the monster that had Claire by a tight leash.

The first thing Claire thought was that it was sad that a young girl felt she had to retreat across a large room to take cover behind her godfather when she had been right beside her parents…Worst yet, her parents continued on, unaffected that their child ditched them to hide behind someone else and barely noticed the arrival of company.

Wesker held up a finger to tell them he would be with them momentarily. Sherry peeked her head out from behind him and instantly brightened when she recognized Claire. She came out of her "safe zone" and over to Claire, careful to avoid getting near Nikolai or looking at him.

"Hi, Claire!"

Claire greeted her with a bright, positive smile. "Hello, Sherry!"

The young girl barely allowed her to finish before hugging her tightly around the waist. Taken aback at first, the college student returned the hug and rubbed Sherry's head.

"You look so cute today! I love that outfit."

Sherry grinned. "Thanks. Look what I drew!" And held up the same paper she had presented to her parents.

Claire was expecting a random doodle kids Sherry's age often produced, with their colorful imagination. She gasped at what she was shown. It was really good. Like really good. Probably better than Claire could ever draw. It was a cat dozing on a tree limb, all sketched in pencil and shaded.

"Wow, Sherry! This is really good!"

"You think?" Birkin's little girl wondered with a blush, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Seriously, I need to take some pointers from you. Did you have a picture to look at or something?"

Sherry shook her head. "No, just saw a cat doing that on my way to school this morning and drew it from memory."

This girl had a photogenic memory apparently. That didn't surprise Claire, the young girl already acted like she was quite intelligent for her age. She looked and acted like her father a lot, and must have gotten both of her parents' gifted smarts.

"That's incredible, Sherry. I love it."

Sherry blushed even deeper, but didn't have time to say anything before Nikolai butted in shamelessly, bending down, hands on his knees to get to her level, his toothy grin making the young girl nervous.

"Ah, aren't you a clever and talented little devushka! Taking right after mama and papa! Such a bright future ahead of you!"

Claire glared at the asshole and was about to give him a piece of her mind, protecting Sherry, when a dark, tall figure stepped directly in between Nikolai and Sherry. Sherry instantly looked relieved, and clinged to her familiar wall. Nikolai slowly stood up straight, unfazed by the glare that would have incinerated most men.

Wesker didn't even have to say anything. Nikolai put up his hands in fake submission, and Claire was sure this man wasn't afraid of anything since he didn't even bat an eye to the scariest person in the room.

"Oh, forgive me, comrade. I have overstepped boundaries. I meant no harm."

"Yes, you did, you fucking asshole," Claire snapped.

Nikolai chuckled, but kept his attention on his employer. "Your lyubovnik is bold. I can see why you like her so much, comrade. Should've seen how she handled 'ol Lowery when he attacked her."

The Birkins had stopped bickering and came over to get in on the conversation at hand. And even with them being nearby, Sherry remained behind her "uncle".

Wesker's lip barely curled at Nikolai's gibe. "And where is Dr. Lowery now? Was he...taken care of?"

Claire was sure he said that in such a way just for the sake of Sherry, and that surprised her.

"Forgive me, but your...request was outbid by best friend."

Wesker glared William's way, but the eccentric researcher just fist pumped like an excited kid. "Yes!"

Nikolai chuckled. "After all, no one knows the value of human life quite like Dr. Birkin."

"Of course they don't! I mean I am a doctor, after all!" William snorted and ruffled Sherry's hair, getting her to giggle. "Relax, Al! I'll take good care of our guest! Thanks, Nikky!"

"I'm sure you will," Wesker stated as William left the laboratory, on a mission. Under William's delighted smile and hums as he left, Claire fleetingly noticed tiny traces of something dark, something ruthless. And she understood Lowery would never be seen again.

Wesker turned to Nikolai and Annette after his partner had gone. "Nikolai, I'll escort you out. We have much to discuss. Anne, dear, please keep Miss Redfield comfortable until I return."

Annette sighed. "What am I now, your babysitter? Come on, Albert...I have enough to do as it is, I'm behind schedule even without having to take care of your…," She gave Claire an unreadable glance, "...guest."

Sherry's mother turned and went back to her project at one corner of the room, where she and William had been bickering earlier, busying herself with whatever was displayed on the computer's monitor. Claire glared at her back. This woman was something else! When first meeting with Claire she seemed curious, albeit a little skeptical, and gave Claire advice on Wesker. Now this. Then again, Annette was always absorbed in her work to barely be concerned with her own child.

"Come along, comrade," Wesker mocked, motioning for the Russian mercenary to follow him.

But before he left, Nikolai had one last piece of advice to give Claire. "Remember printsessa...If you are going to dwell among wolves...you should howl like one."

He winked at her and left with that eerie grin on his face. Once it was just Claire, Sherry, and Annette, the tension in the room nearly dissipated completely. Sherry snatched Claire's hand and tried dragging her away from the exit.

"I don't see that man too often, but he's scary. C'mon, let's go sit in the break room, I have more drawings to show you!"

The college student hesitated at first, still confused over Nikolai's final advice. She shook it from her thoughts and allowed the young girl to guide her past her mother and into the little break room attached to the laboratory.

"Momma, me and Claire are gonna go draw in the break room, you should join us!"

"That's nice, sweetie," Annette mumbled while looking into a microscope.

Claire tightened the grip around Sherry's hand and stopped, glaring at Annette, but Sherry tugged on her. "It's okay, she's busy. Come on!"

It took all of her willpower to bite her tongue, only doing so because of Sherry. They went to the table and sat down. Sherry showed off her drawings in a sketchbook that was falling apart. Nearly all the pages were filled with her artwork, many loose and sticking out all over the place. The girl exuberantly showed off her illustrations. Claire was just as excited to see them all, and found joy that the young Birkin was out of her shell now.

"They're all so good. Sherry, you should become a professional artist when you grow up!"

Sherry beamed. "Really? Daddy says I'm gonna be a doctor like him some day. I want to do both. I want to help people like they do."

Claire smiled, hiding the worry from such a statement. "You are so smart and talented, you can do whatever you want to. I know it."

"Thank you, Claire!" The girl blushed with a sweet smile. Claire couldn't believe such a cute, sweet little girl could come from such horrible parents that let a psychopath raise her half the time. "I wish my parents showed as much interest in me as you. I mean, they do, just...I don't know. Sometimes they're just so absorbed in their work, that's all they know." Sherry frowned. "...or care about."

"Well, they aren't focusing on what's important then. I hope one day that they do."

Sherry nervously played with the crinkled corner of one of her artworks. "What are your parents like, Claire?"

The pain that ripped through her heart wasn't expected. Claire took a deep breath and smiled at the girl. "Well, I lost them when I was around your age. But...I remember my mom being...fearless. She wasn't afraid of anything, it seemed. She loved motorcycles. I got my love of motorcycles from her. My dad...he was patient and so much fun. He played guitar. He was teaching me before…"

Sherry was quiet for a long moment, and she grabbed Claire's hand and squeezed. "What...happened to them?"

"Car accident. It's weird...they were both special forces in the Air Force. Seemed invincible to me as a kid. And they were gone in a split second...just like that."

"Oh no! That's terrible! Were you all alone?"

"No...no. I have an older brother. He's a cop...he works with Wesker. He raised me with the help from some old family friends. We lost everything from our old home though."

"What, why? So you don't have anything from your parents?"

"My uncle...distant uncle, my mom's brother. He lives in Stone Ville. He got the house and all the belongings because my brother wasn't an adult at the time. And he never liked our father or us very much. So he took it away from us. Blamed our father for the accident."

Sherry's hands clamped over her mouth and nose in an instant, shocked by the heartlessness of Claire's uncle. "That's awful!" she mumbled from behind dainty fingers.

Claire half-shrugged, swallowing the resentment she still had for that family member. "Chris and I have come to terms with it. Most of it meant nothing to us anyway. He sold the house and most of the stuff a long time ago, but he keeps a few important things in storage. Some things we hope to get one day."

Sherry bit her lip. "Like what?"

"Pictures, mostly. My dad's guitar. My brother really wants their military medals. Me...there's just one picture I really want. It's my parents on my mom's red motorcycle, dressed in their military attire, before they had us. I remember adoring it as a kid. They looked like superheroes to me. But…"

"But what?"

Claire swallowed, ignoring the burn in her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm gonna forget what they look like one day. That picture gets more and more fuzzy as the years go by."

Sherry gasped and looked horrified, sad for her, staring up at her with big blue eyes. Claire cleared her throat, putting on a big smile. She got so caught up in her reminiscing that she made the girl just as sad she was. "Sorry. Hey, don't worry about it! It will all work out in the end. I know it!"

Sherry leaned in and hugged her close. "I hope so! Or else we can send Nikolai to scare him," the blond girl joked slyly, face crushed against her.

That tickled a snorted laugh out of the young Redfield. "Yeah, he better not tempt me! One more thing though...could you keep this between us?"

The last thing she needed was something else for Wesker to have over her head.

She pulled back with a small smile. "I promise! I sure would like to meet your brother one day. He must be strong and brave if he works with Uncle Albert!"

Claire wished she could understand the closeness she felt to this little girl after knowing her for such a short period. Maybe a little sister she never had, or a daughter perhaps that Claire would want one day.

"He is. He's the best."

Light knocking startled them both, and Claire's heart spun when she saw Wesker in the doorway of the breakroom. There was no door separating the rooms, and so she could only hope he hadn't been there long and overheard their conversation.

"Hi, Uncle Albert! Claire just told me that her brother works with you!"

The STARS Captain moved inside, a small smirk forming. He no longer sported the lab coat from earlier, but was still dressed exquisitely. "Yes, he does. He's one of my best men, actually."

"Oh, neat, are you guys friends?!"

"Best of friends," Wesker chuckled, although his ambiguous tone and smile was directed towards Claire.

"Even more than Daddy?" Sherry gasped.

Wesker's smile towards Sherry was a lot less menacing and he held out his arm. "Of course not, darling."

Sherry took his arm and squeaked in delight as he picked her up effortlessly out of the chair and let her dangle for a moment like a doll before setting her down on her feet.

"I see you were providing Claire with some pleasant company. Thank you, Sherry."

Wesker offered his hand with a sly smile, but Claire refused it. She stood up on her own with a defiant look that only made her captor's smirk grow.

"Of course, Uncle Albert! I just love having Claire come by to visit. Can't you bring her around more often? Please, pretty please?!"

"I'm sure we could work on that."

"Yay!" Sherry exclaimed, hugging Claire real quick before going over to the table to gather up her art supplies and sketchbook.

"Are you ready, dear heart?"

Claire hated that he said that pet name right in front of Sherry. As if she needed any more reasons to fantasize about them hooking up. "Ready for what?"

"We're leaving."

"W-Where?" she inwardly panicked.

"My personal quarters here in the facility. We have much to discuss."

Somewhere behind them, Sherry giggled into her hand and quickly hid her face behind her sketchbook to avoid being reprimanded for butting into their business. Wesker let it slide - for now.

Claire shook her head. "No, we can do that tomorrow. I have to get home to Chris. He'll be worried."

"He'll be fine," Wesker countered. "He's at the bar with friends, most notably Jill, which means he won't be home until late, or until nature takes its course between them. We wouldn't want to disrupt that now, would we?" He leered gleefully at her.

She glared at him, ignoring his comment about the possibility of any...lewd content...between her brother and Jill, even if she was very aware of the attraction between the two. But now was not the time nor place to be concerned over that.

"The sooner we get our "business" out of the way, the sooner you can go home."

It wasn't like she had a choice, no matter how much she fought him. Claire reluctantly agreed, for the sake of doing this quickly and getting it over with. But deep down, some strange, new instinct had awoken. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. She was certain going to Wesker's quarters with him alone would prove to be dangerous, bad, very bad. But this new instinct was okay with that, and it made her nerves tingle like she was high on drugs.

Wesker's private quarters within the NEST facility looked like a richy hotel room, only without a grand view of a beach or cityscape. The lights automatically kicked on when they entered. It was either hardly used or strictly kept up by a housekeeper. Immaculate. Expensive. There was a lounge area with leather sofas and a cherry wood table between them. The kitchen had expensive countertops and appliances, and even a bar. And from where she stood, Claire could see the open door that led into a large, dark bedroom.

"You should see William's quarters," Wesker stated after noticing her admiring the room. "It's nicer than his actual house. But he and Anne do practically live down here."

He took her parka from her and hung it up near the door. "Drink?" he offered, heading towards the bar. "I know I need one."

"Yeah," she mumbled, distracted, and then realized what she agreed to and glared at his back. "Only if I watch you pour it!"

"So suspicious," Wesker chuckled as he retrieved a couple of glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine from a fancy wine rack, checking the bottle over before pouring. "Trust me, if I do end up having to eliminate you, it will be a little more...exciting."

"Gee, thanks. That's totally increasing my trust in you."

He huffed a laugh and held out the glass full of a dark red liquid to her, clearly not fazed by her sarcastic comment in the least. Claire slowly took it from him and they sat down across from one another on the sofas. She gave in fast and took a sip. The redhead had been thirsty for quite a while. And a little peckish too, if she was being honest...espionage obviously made her hungry. You learn something new every day, she scoffed at herself silently. The wine was a rich merlot and it warmed her tongue and made her stomach fizzle.

"You do know you're contributing to a minor with this, right?"

"Well, I am an officer of the law. I'm quite aware of that."

"Are you sure you're an officer of the law?"

He shrugged, unimpressed, his steely grey eyes seemingly putting Claire more on edge than when he had his sunglasses on. "I have sundry jobs, if only you knew half of them. Then again, I would have to kill you if you did." Wesker smirked, unashamed.

Claire took a big gulp of her wine, either trying to settle her empty stomach or pacify her flurried nerves. "But mostly you're a corrupt cop by day and mad scientist by night. Got it."

His lips quirked in amusement. "You have me all figured out, apparently. And what about you, my dear?" There he went staking claim to her again. "Not so much a "good girl" yourself, hmm? The wine, for instance. If you're so offended by me serving you any, you could've just declined. I'm sure you're like any other college girl and drink plenty when big brother isn't watching."

Touché. She did go drinking and partying with her friends a lot. Without Chris knowing, of course.

"Yeah, so?" she challenged, and then balked, squeaking, "Please don't tell Chris!"

"Your secret is safe with me, dear heart."

Her heart did a weird flip that made her stomach feel warmer than the wine, and then she discerned it was time to get this meeting over with and get home as soon as possible.

"So, what is it you have to discuss with me, exactly? I'm sure it's too much to hope that you're finally setting me free?"

"It is. But do not fret yourself, my dear, you are making headway in our...agreement. I applaud you for your accomplishment tonight. No one else could have done it quite like you. I'm almost tempted to say...you're a natural."

"Thanks," Claire said dryly. "So, what about that doctor and other professor? What happens to them? Why hack into the hard drives of the university's research center?"

"Such questions are dangerous, Miss Redfield. You wish to get yourself deeper into this conspiracy? Best to leave it alone if you want to return to your normal life…"

She didn't say anything to that. He had a point, although it didn't make her feel any better about what kind of situation she had put these men in, whether they deserved it or not. Her being complicit in their (most probably) unpleasant fate somehow made her uneasy. Claire tried not to imagine what would await them now that their futures were at Wesker and Birkin's mercy...and would most likely be cut short.

"...unless you don't want to return to "normal"?" he smirked, a little too sanguine in his insinuation.

Claire avoided answering that, still upset over the fates of the two professors and the doctor. "Are those men bad like you?"

Wesker eyed her, sloshing around the little remains of wine in his glass. He stood, drinking the rest and then placing the glass on the table. He approached her, making her heart leap like a startled cat, and when he sat down beside her, she knew she was trapped.

"They make me look like a saint," he replied, placing his hand over his heart - or at least where it was supposed to be - in a gesture of mock sincerity. But she didn't believe him. "Trust me. They deserve whatever's coming to them."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, and wanted to scoot away from him, but some kind of pull kept her frozen in place.

"Perhaps you should look in the mirror, dear heart. It's obvious by tonight's events that your "good girl" demeanor is merely a front to a more adventurous and daring version of yourself...the true Claire. The Claire your brother never sees or even suspects because he lives in his little bubble of self-righteousness. He would never guess that the real Claire hides from the world, afraid of judgement. His judgement. Afraid of being judged for who she really is and what she really wants. The Claire that I see when I look at you…"

He wasn't talking about her defiant and rebellious nature that everyone knew, and often associated as typical Redfield traits, but something darker. She immediately refuted it, glaring at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Although her defensive denial only made him smirk.

He's playing mind games with you. Ada and William warned you about this. Keep it together!

"I think you do," Wesker insisted. "I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you. You enjoyed being complicit tonight, the adrenaline rush, the danger, yes? The fact that you got away with it and, in a way, set up three cruel men to the fates they deserve. Satisfying, isn't it?"

His words hit too close to home. Claire could barely breathe, but stayed solid. Her heart pounded in her ear, she clenched her fingers on her thighs to where her knuckles turned white. Still, she glared at him, defying, but it was hard to keep his intense gaze.

"I didn't enjoy anything I did tonight. I did what I had to because you blackmailed me!"

Her instincts were all over the place. Some of them told her to get out of there. To move away from him, but the others told her to stay, to continue challenging him. But there was no winning either way. He was manipulating her and despite her best efforts it was working, but, in a way, she also knew he was telling the truth.

"Irrelevant," Wesker dismissed her protest. "You still went through with it. You can deny it all you want, but I see right through it. You take pleasure walking the line of morality. And lying to yourself is both pointless and a waste of time. I know you better than you think. I can read you like a book, Claire...although admittedly a riveting one."

She hated how pragmatic he was, but mostly abhorred how right he was.

Okay, so what if she did have a little fun tonight? So what if slinking around, danger at every corner, was a little thrilling to her? Was that so bad? It certainly contributed to her rebellious nature, but that didn't make her bad. That didn't make them alike, no matter what he seemed to think he knew of her.

Don't do it. Don't give him what he wants.

"Even if you were right...which you aren't," Claire retorted, and then inwardly facepalmed, because that wasn't blatantly obvious that she fell for his trap. "What exactly are you trying to get out of me?"

"Nothing much...except that I want you to stop fooling yourself. You might as well be on the same side as me. You, Claire, are a thrill seeker. You love the adrenaline of doing forbidden things, feeding off those thrills and any power or advantage you gain from them. Not all that different from me. Your excuses for not going after what you really want in life are threadbare at best…You have the potential to take whatever you want if you would just let go of your fruitless morals."

Her conscience came through in Wesker's spell of smoke and mirrors, and she shot to her feet. So fast, her head spun for a moment, the light burn of the wine she had drank sizzling in her gut.

"You know nothing about what I want. This conversation is over," Claire ordered. "We're done here."

Wesker sighed, pushing himself out of his seat, seemingly unaffected that she desperately tried to flee his influence. "If you insist. But you won't be able to run from the truth forever. Sooner or later, you'll see that I'm right."

Claire chewed on her lip, this strange mix of dread and excitement making her woozy. She wanted it to go away, but she had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

The STARS leader returned to her with her parka in hand, holding it as she slipped into it. He leaned in close as she got dressed, murmuring into her ear, "But I think you're wrong...I think I do have a pretty good idea of what you want, Claire...you're merely postponing the inevitable."

His hands held her shoulders as Claire stood there with her back to him, petrified at being called out. No, he's lying. He's setting you up, don't listen to him!

Okay, maybe he did have a pretty good reading on her, she finally had to admit to herself. But she wasn't about to admit it to him. No! Never!

The narcissistic asshole rubbed his hand down her spine, smoothing out the wrinkles of her parka. The electric spark that ignited every fiber of her body made Claire spin around and face him directly.

The younger Redfield was aware of what would happen if she wasn't careful. He had done exactly what she had been warned about, using her defiance and denial against her to seduce her. She felt so exposed to how easily he had read her, when she couldn't even admit it herself.

Wesker opened the door for her, but there was an underlying challenge there in his show of chivalry. "After you, dear heart."

Claire told herself there were two choices here. If she walked out that door, nothing would happen. She would be returned home to her brother. But maybe she would only be "postponing the inevitable", like he said…

But her own bravado wouldn't let her walk out that door. Wesker led her right into a standoff of power he knew she wouldn't back down to.

It was one thing to dwell among this vicious pack of wolves and howl with them like Nikolai had advised. It was another to mess around with the Alpha.

Her heart may have been beating on her ribs, but she wasn't about to give into him lying down. She had one last act of defiance up her sleeve that she hoped would wipe that smirk off his face, since her obvious hesitation told him he had her right where he wanted her.

How much worse can it get anyway? Fuck it!

The redhead pushed herself onto her tip toes and kissed him. She was so determined to spite him and gain some kind of control, she didn't care what kind of fire she had just started. And what did they say? If you play with fire, you're going to get burned.

When her brother's corrupt boss slammed that door shut after returning her reckless kiss, Claire knew she would get burned tonight. But if the smoldering in her chest and thighs were any indication, she wasn't at all concerned. Even her initial irritation at him for not being taken off guard by her initiation - had he been expecting this after all?! - was soon forgotten.

What Claire quickly learned was that he was a great kisser. The taste of the merlot was on their lips, fuel for their fervent kissing. Her hands squeezed his shirt, tugging him closer.

Just as she was cursing his height, one strong arm wrapped around her lower back and picked her up. Effortlessly. Like she was a pillow. She squeaked in surprise, having never been picked up like that before. Her legs, through no control of her own, instantly wrapped around his waist.

He walked somewhere, but Claire couldn't determine where while they smacked lips. She felt drunk, but she hadn't ingested that much wine. Eager to taste more of it on him, she pushed for entry into his mouth with her tongue.

Wesker did allow her entry for a few precious seconds before he dropped her on something soft. A quick glance as her fingers found their way under his shirt determined it was the back of one of the leather sofas, which allowed her to be closer to his height sitting down while he remained standing.

"For someone so determined to stay in denial, you sure are eager," Wesker teased.

"Shut up!"

His smirk infuriated her as he dipped lower to suck on her neck. Claire tried pushing him away but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "No marks where Chris can see!"

He seized her ponytail and tugged hard, and Claire figured he was about to reprimand her. She hissed, but soon her hair fell down all around her face. He kissed her throat, and although his hands explored, he kept her steady on the furniture.

He kissed her ear, and Claire was certain he would tell her that it wasn't his problem if he left marks on her.

"Don't worry, dear heart. It's our little secret." Wow. She was surprised he was being considerate of her wishes. Or maybe he just liked being clandestine. "No promises for next time though." Never mind.

"There won't be a next time," she claimed.

The STARS Captain didn't reply to that, although his lips quirked upward, blatantly cocky. Instead, he claimed her lips again, giving her a tongue lashing of a different kind.

Claire kept her legs clamped around his waist, helping her keep balance as they kissed and sucked and explored. She soon became quite aware of the growing bulge pinching into her thigh.

He pushed on her, as if instinct told him to pin her down onto the nonexistent floor. If she leaned any further back, she'd fall onto the cushions.

Wesker quickly grew tired of bothersome clothes. He ripped her shirt off and tossed it aside. Claire had already long discarded her stuffy parka.

When she tugged on his nice, black shirt to be tossed, he obliged without hesitation. Claire stared, her hands eagerly roaming over his muscular torso and arms. He was ripped! He made the few college guys she messed around with look like weaklings, and they were jocks.

"Like what you see?"

The part time spy could only nod, throat suddenly dry. She expected him to come back with a highly conceited reply, but he spared her once more.

"Good. So do I."

About that time, an experienced flick of his hand popped her bra strap. Her bra fell to the floor. Claire removed her hands from exploring Wesker's chiseled chest in the midst of a deep kiss to cover herself. Her wrists were snatched before she could do so.

"No more hiding...no more games," he ordered.

His hands stroked up and down her sides, over the peaks of her breasts and fondling them. His rough kisses skimmed from her lips, down her throat to her nipples, driving her mad. The younger Redfield's chest felt like her ribs would shatter any second from her heart. Heat pooled between her legs, her nerves sparked at every ending.

Wesker claimed one perky breast in his mouth, one muscular arm curled around her back, arched from the swirls and patterns from his tongue. Claire grazed a hand through his gelled hair, pushing her crotch into the hardened mass cradled in her thigh. It was so big she didn't understand how he could stand it still being confined.

A few grinds against his at attention member with her groin and he half growled, half groaned and released her breast from his teeth.

"You're awfully bold. Just remember it isn't a good idea to start what you cannot finish."

Another challenge. He knew just how to push her buttons. And that was exactly how she got into this situation, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"It's not my first time. Now, you gonna get this show on the road or what?" Claire hoped he didn't see through her false bravado and thinly veiled attempt at glossing over her nerves.

Besides, it may not have been her first time having sex, she'd done it a few times with college guys she knew, but Wesker was a whole different level than them. She was intimidated, but did all in her power to hide it.

"As you wish," he snickered. Yep, he saw right through her defense.

He leaned in, kissing her a few times on the lips, and just as Claire was relaxing, he bent and bit the side of one breast. She gasped, eyes shooting open and next thing she knew he pulled her off the couch to stand.

"Undress. Now." The authority in his voice both irked and aroused her.

She obeyed...stubbornly. Claire took her time sliding out of her pants and panties after kicking off her boots. It was hard to do with his eyes on her, head slightly cocking as he enjoyed every second of it. Why did he have to have such daunting and beautiful eyes?

Quietly, he admired her curves and athletic body. He must have sensed her incoming sarcastic comment on his silence because just as she opened her mouth, he kissed it right off her lips. One hand closed dangerously around her throat just before he shoved one knee in between her legs. He hoisted her right back up on top of the sofa, like she weighed nothing again.

It did little to interrupt their make out session. Wesker's hands were a strange mix of rough and smooth, and petting over her silky skin, it roused every little inch in goosebumps. She could feel the power in those hands, strong enough to kill her without much effort if he wanted to.

The fact that Wesker was so dangerous only fed Claire's libido. Besides it all being wrong and forbidden on so many levels, he was a very attractive man, megalomania aside. The college guys, or boys she might as well admit, she could've beaten to a pulp if she wanted to. Her brother's boss was the ultimate dominant male with a killer twist.

His hands retracted from her body, disappointing her until she heard the clinking of his belt buckle. Her pulse quickened at that and then skyrocketed when she heard his pants unzip.

Wesker slid her hindquarters out from the couch, balancing her on the back of the couch to the curve of her back. Her legs had retained their hold on his waist, but she held onto the cushions for dear life when he began kissing her breasts and stomach, slowly heading south. His hands caressed around her hips and squeezed her buttocks.

"Not to worry, Claire, I won't be dropping my prize anytime soon."

She wasn't worried about being dropped though. Strangely enough, she was used to his mocking tone by now that she knew it was his very own, if somewhat odd, way of reassuring her, even if he was bragging in the process.

He pulled out of her legs just far enough so he could kiss her pelvis and thighs. One hand spread her legs open a bit more, the touch as electrifying as a lightning storm. She was plenty wet now, could feel it lubricating her inner canal and vulva, preparing for an invasion.

Wesker tested with one finger, rubbing her clit in a soft circle before entering it inside her. He smiled into her abdomen as he sucked below her belly button. The second finger insertion caused her to groan louder than she cared to admit.

"How many partners have you had?" he asked. He sounded generally curious, and not at all mocking as he usually was.

Why did he care?

"T-Two." It was hard to concentrate with his sharp kisses in between her legs. "Why does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It won't after tonight."

What the hell does he mean by that?

The younger Redfield had no time to come up with a remark before his mouth took her pussy. She gasped, death gripping the couch cushions, letting the stimulating euphoria from her core spread through her body like a wildfire.

Her captor kissed and sucked on her clit, tongue rolling and sliding in marvelous patterns. Her previous partners never did this, only concerned with getting off themselves. Pressure continuously built as he lathered her with his tongue. Breathing became labored, her heartbeat was incredibly loud in her ears. Her legs wringed under him and she whined his name just as it became too much, on the verge of losing it.

But he stopped then, denying her right at the brink and she cursed under her breath, the high crashing from her brain and flustering her.

"Oh, did I stop too soon, Claire?" he teased. To provoke her further he rubbed his thumb over her wet opening and up over her clit and she involuntarily bucked from both anticipation and frustration.

"Sadistic asshole," she growled.

He didn't deny her insult, and probably would have agreed with her if he hadn't pushed himself over her and forcefully took her lips again. Her aggravation was soon forgotten as their kissing quickly became feverish and fierce. She let go of the sofa and let her hands explore his toned build. Her juices swapped between their lips and, really, that wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.

Claire slipped her hands down his exposed briefs to get her hands full. And she really did get a handful. He was way bigger than the last two. His rock hard member was at full attention in her hands, and Wesker softly groaned while kissing her jugular.

He must have sensed her trepidation though because he rose slightly, whispering into her ear. "Don't tell me you're losing your nerve just when it's getting interesting."

"N-No!" she snapped, his words perfectly rejumpstarting her resolution.

He kissed her jaw. "Then how about you finally admit to me what you really want? What I know you want…?"

A breath hitched in her throat. Claire couldn't admit it. She refused to! His mind games continued to torture her, but deep down she realized there was no hiding it. The secret was out...

"You…"

Wesker smirked. "Good girl."

Claire freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It was thick and long with a bulbous tip. The blood-filled flesh solid and ready. Quite ready.

Wesker grabbed her wrists and moved them away, sliding her legs out from the couch just a bit further. Claire gripped the couch again, her legs snaking around his waist, pulse palpitating in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Her lower back dug into the top of the couch when he bent over her again, but she didn't care. She wondered how it would feel with his whole weight on top of her. His kiss was potent, dizzying, like a shot of strong liquor.

The redhead's proverbial fiery attitude and impatient nature got the better of her, and she huffed, "I'm waiting," as she shivered, feeling his tip at her entrance.

"Good things come to those who wait," came his smug reply, his amusement apparent in his teasing undertone.

He penetrated her in one strong push, stretching and filling her all at once. Claire hissed at the pain at first, but it soon ebbed. Wesker gave her a moment to get used to him before he started rocking her. Slowly and steadily at first.

Claire's arms snaked around his back, stabilizing herself as her body see-sawed over the couch in each of his thrusts. He had a near death-grip on her hips; he wouldn't drop her.

She groaned into his claiming lips, each kiss seemingly getting more and more possessive and zealous, in league with each buck of his hips that grew stronger and faster. His dick glided in and out, covered in her juices and his pre-cum. Each time their pelvises connected, the tip of his cock rammed her cervix.

Claire moaned, the sweet, itchy pressure returning from within her canal, building at each of Wesker's powerful strokes. She squeezed her thighs around him tighter, fingers clenching into his muscular back. He returned her mewling and restlessness underneath him with a low groan, lifting her hips slightly for deeper access.

"I want to hear my name when you cum," he growled.

Several hard, deep thrusts later and the pressure blew, igniting her nerves, a drug-like high overcoming her senses as her body wracked and wringed in pure bliss. He kept pounding into her, even as she howled his name in drunk rapture. Her nails cut deep into his back as her whole body pulsated. She didn't have time to inhale precious air from her loud moans before Wesker silenced her completely with another dominating kiss.

His next few thrusts were erratic but even more penetrating, stretching her, preparing her body for his hazmat. Hot jets of Wesker's cum disgorged into her, coating her walls, filling her to the brim, almost sending her over the edge with another climax.

His slowing thrusts finally came to a stop, and all that could be heard was Claire's panting and Wesker's satisfied huff that warmed her throat. They stayed where they were for a moment, coming down off their ecstasy. Wesker still held Claire up, which was good because her limbs were useless now.

Wesker slowly, and dare she think reluctantly, pulled out of her. He picked her up off the couch and sat her on her own two feet, holding her steady. It gave her an odd, warm, fuzzy feeling to realize that he was waiting for her legs to be working properly again before he let go of her, preventing her from embarrassing herself by faceplanting right before his eyes after he turned her legs into overcooked spaghetti by the grace of his magic tongue and dick.

Huh. It's almost like he cares. Oh, who am I kidding...

He left her side long enough to get them some towels from the nearby kitchen. Claire took one gratefully and wiped up the mess between her legs. Wesker cleaned himself off and rebuckled his pants and slipped his shirt back on, watching Claire slowly and wobbly get dressed. There was no telling where her hair tie went. Her red-brown tresses would have to remain down for now.

Coming down off the high from the erotic encounter, Claire almost felt in shock of what exactly happened. She had just had sex with her brother's boss, the corrupt Captain of STARS, one of Raccoon City's most prominent men.

The younger Redfield was firstly ashamed of giving into him, letting him manipulate her right where he wanted her. She felt guilty doing that to Chris, especially in the middle of trying to protect him.

But at the same time...she was strangely intoxicated and satisfied with it. Sex with Wesker was a completely different experience than her previous, inexperienced partners. Addicting and alluring, and by far more gratifying. The thrill and danger from such an immoral coupling only confirmed that Wesker had been right about what she hid away.

That still didn't make her a bad person...right? Not like Wesker, anyway. Not like the rest of the wolves.

Her inner turmoil was only interrupted when Wesker picked up her parka and dusted it off, not that it got dirty laying on the super clean floor. He didn't offer it to her just yet, the two of them staring at each other in silence. Claire felt that Wesker was waiting for something, but she had no clue on what.

"And here I thought you would have something obstinate to say," he finally said with a smirk that was a bit less satirical than usual. "Trying to defend your recent questionable lapse in judgement, I'm sure. Strange, I only get silence."

She glared at him. "This," she motioned between them, "makes me nothing like you. And don't even think for a second it will make me help you hurt or kill innocent people. You might be a little right about the thrill-seeking, but that's it."

"It's liberating when you're honest with yourself, isn't it? More so, it's sensible," he countered. "In contrast to what you might believe, I don't purposely seek out people to hurt or kill, and they're rarely ever innocent. I only do so when they're in my way, it's convenient, or if I need to make a point." He stepped behind her and put her coat on for her. "The three men you helped me gain control over this evening, however, do, very much so. Do not worry yourself over their fates. They're well deserved, I assure you. Believe it or not, I am the lesser of two evils...this time. Now, any other self-justifying proclamations you wish to share?"

This guy was a real piece of work. She bit her tongue. "No."

He sighed, checking his watch. "Well, dear heart, I should get you home. It is getting late. Big brother will be back soon. Pity. Follow me."

He wrapped his arm around her lower back, urging her along towards the door. Her stomach flipped, the nerves in her back shivering delightfully. And she gulped on the inside, realizing her body would now naturally respond to him. She had unwittingly put herself in a much more dangerous situation because of her own stubbornness.

She only prayed Chris would never find out.

[robronsecretvalentine]

The Latest Scheme

Secret Valentine’s Day Gift for @prettyboysugden

Happy Valentine’s Day Lucy!

The Latest Scheme

Aaron was very frustrated. He had spent most of the afternoon trying to pick a car apart when he realized that there were actually working parts in good condition still on the car. He then had to be careful stripping the car and that had taken longer than usual and he still had another car to strip. He needed to finish this today as the pick-up for them was tomorrow. Adam had scoffed off earlier under the pretense of “needing some time to work on his relationship with Vic” which was mostly him grovelling to Victoria for his latest misstep.

He was hunched under the hood as he heard footsteps on the gravel leading up to the scrapyard. At this time and the way the person was walking, it could only be one person. Well that was it for the cars. They couldn’t be finished by tomorrow and Adam was going to have to take them himself the day after and moan about it. He knew whatever he was here for at this time, it would not end well for Aaron.

He braced himself as he continued to work. At least he could pretend to resist the newest scheme for a bit longer. Who knew if he played his cards right he might even get him to help with the cars!

“I bought you coffee and a scone. Wanted to bring you cake, but there was only one slice left and I wanted that so you have to do with the scone I’m afraid.” Robert said.

Oh this was bad. Aaron definitely needed a lawyer for this if he was being offered coffee and scone for free on a Wednesday afternoon.

“No. I’m not doing it. Whatever it is this time. I am not breaking into you ex-fiancé’s home to steal her dad’s old dirty love letters or breaking into the safe to get his will, and I am definitely not impersonating a millionaire to steal his clients. I am done with your schemes to take over Home Farm. At this rate I will either end up back in prison or killed by that nut-job Lachlan!” his voice raised as he turned to Robert. By the end he was shrieking.  

“Calm down, will ya? I am not asking you anything you paranoid freak! Can’t I just bring my best mate in the whole wide world a coffee and a pastry?” Robert said teasingly with a smirk that Aaron knew meant death and destruction was on the way. He knew his friend well.

He took the coffee and the scone from Robert suspiciously. They both leaned against the half striped car. The truth was that his friendship with Robert had taken him by surprise. Almost one year ago, the two of them had found their ways separately back to Emmerdale. A series of bad decisions and even worst consequences had resulted in their first “meeting”.

Aaron shouldn’t have been surprised on how often they got into schemes together. Criminal activity and misdemeanor was the foundation of their friendship. What was surprising that after accepting a coffee from Robert and a drink on a night out, they had hit it off immediately. Their bickering and Aaron’s temporary absence of “best friend” had resulted in them becoming fast friends. It was a mutually satisfying friendship.

Aaron had convinced Robert to tell Chrissie the truth about his feelings or lack thereof for her and break off the engagement after Lawrence threatened him yet again. Robert however, had taken his advice and blackmailed Lawrence; he would break if off with her, if Lawrence had made him a shareholder in the business. Obviously Lawrence had refused. This was how Robert had come up with the brilliant idea to steal old photographs and love letters of previous lovers that proved Chrissie might not be Lawrence’s biological daughter. Obviously he couldn’t get his own hands dirty and who did he know who could do it? Aaron obviously. That is how Robert ended up a silent partner in Lawrence’s business, the main investor in Holy Scrap (as a thank you to Aaron for his hard work), Diddy Diner (because he was capable of caring for his family, thank you very much), and as of last month, an equal partner in Home James Haulage.

Robert’s interest in Home Farm was no longer necessary but as he was a grade “A” control freak and couldn’t let anything go if he could make more money out of it, he sometime still screwed with Lawrence. Aaron thought it was out of boredom mainly.

Now the reason Aaron was involved, or at least how he justified it in his own mind, was that he was a great friend. Case in point, Adam and how many times he had saved him. Aaron was ride or die for all his friends. That is what Aaron told himself and Chas and Paddy whenever they questioned his friendship with Robert. The truth though, was a bit different.

Aaron was totally in love with Robert. If he was honest with himself, he was insanely attracted to him from the first time he saw him and if Robert would show any indication that he might be interested, Aaron would confess his feelings on the spot. However, he knew Robert was straight. Aaron put it down as another case of unrequited love for best friend. God knows he already had the experience with Adam when they were kids, and as that experience had taught him, he would soon get over his feelings for him and instead become amazing friends. If he could only stop staring at Robert’s lips as he was sipping his Americano, then he would be fine. God those lips were just begging to be kissed.

“So, there is something I need to tell you.” Robert said in a very suspiciously casual manner.

“I knew it! You want me to do something stupid. Why can’t you just enjoy what you have right now and don’t do anything stupid to ruin it?”

“Well because, Azza, I am not someone who can do that and anyway, you wouldn’t like me if I was!”

“Who says I like you?”

“Well you’re still here. And might I add that in all of our shared endeavors, I didn’t really have to persuade you. You could have said no anytime. You are just as bad as me!” Robert said with his signature smug face. God, Aaron could just slap him. Or kiss him. Whichever that would wipe that smugness off his face.

“So go on. What is the price for this coffee that I have to pay? Are we breaking into a bank? Or perhaps organizing a hit?” Aaron said as he continued to sip his coffee.

“Don’t be so dramatic, you dolt! It’s nothing illegal. And certainly nothing that would get us in trouble. So you know that Chrissie has a sister, right?”

Aaron nodded. He knew that when they discovered that Chrissie was not Lawrence’s biological daughter, Lawrence had done anything to keep that information away from his daughters, especially Rebecca, as he was certain that would cause a rift between his daughters.

“Yeah. So?” Said Aaron.

“Well, what you don’t know is that before I got engaged to Chrissie, Rebecca and I used to fool around. It got more serious with Chrissie so I ended it with Rebecca. She didn’t have access to Lawrence as Chrissie did. She stayed away after that until she heard me and Chrissie are done. Now she is coming back. And the thing is that she never really got over me.” Robert said as if he was proud of the fact that someone had difficulty getting over him. Aaron could sympathize.

“So what? You want to blackmail Lawrence some more now? Give me money or I’ll tell your daughter sort of thing?” Aaron said grumpily. He knew Robert had flaws. He would even concede that Robert wasn’t going to win the best person award, but sometimes he wished he had a little bit if decency and not think of money and power all the time. It made Aaron more conflicted inside. He was best fiends (and maybe, sort of, kind of, a little bit, in love) with someone who didn’t bat an eye at blackmailing and emotional manipulation. Well, C’est la vie.

“No you idiot. I’m done with them. It’s actually the opposite of that. See Rebecca texted me a few days ago to let me know she was coming and I quote “so we could finally be together properly” and I don’t want that life anymore. So what I need is something else.” Robert said. Strange thing was he kept his eyes down. It was the first time that Aaron had seen him like this. It was as if like he was almost shy about what he was about to ask.

“Spit it out then!” Aaron said impatiently.

Robert took a deep breath and blurted “willyoubemyfakeboyfrienduntilshegoesaway?”

“You what?”

“Will you be my fake boyfriend until she goes away?” Robert repeated slower this time.

Aaron was gobsmacked. On one hand that was the most outrageous request he had ever heard and he just wanted to laugh out loud. On the other hand, this was the plot of one of his many fantasies which normally ended with him under Robert. He didn’t know to laugh or to cry. His lack of response must have alerted Robert.

“Look you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It was just an idea. If she thinks that she has a chance with me, she will make my life hell until I give in and play her game which is basically torturing her sister and I don’t want to be dragged into another sibling drama.” Robert said.

Aaron composed himself enough to ask “but you are okay with everyone assuming you are gay?”

“Well, bisexual actually. And this way I can finally come out to my family as well. Killing two birds with one stone and all.”

“I’m sorry; did you just come out to me?” Aaron asked. He was completely confused. Did that mean he had a chance with Robert? Did it mean that Robert was available to him? But wait a minute, if he was, then did it mean that Robert didn’t like Aaron that way as he hadn’t come on to him. Robert wasn’t shy. If he liked someone he would just tell them. So that meant that he didn’t fancy Aaron. Universe had a cruel sense of humor when it came to Aaron.

“To be honest I thought you knew. Well at least we know you have a rubbish gaydar!” Robert had the audacity to say!

“So what? You thought a little romance with the local gay will get the woman to back off? And why does it have to be me? I mean Finn would be a more believable option for you. I mean he is prettier and he hangs on every word you say. So why not ask him?”

“Well Finn isn’t really my type!”

“And what, I am?” Aaron was hysteric now.

“Well yeah! I mean have you seen you?? You are fit and hot and very very sexy without even realizing it! I mean every time we walk into a bar, I am surprised that men don’t just pounce on you!” Robert said with an animated voice. Aaron was speechless. Did Robert just say he was sexy?

“Look forget it. It was a stupid idea. You clearly aren’t comfortable with it. Just forget about it.” Robert said while avoiding looking at Aaron.

“So are we on tonight to watch the game? Is Adam coming as well? I can make some snacks if you wanted to come earlier” Robert changed the subject.

Aaron cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe what just had happened. Robert seemed to be embarrassed by his accidental confession and clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Aaron suddenly felt shy as well. He never was good at taking compliments. And he didn’t know if Robert was complimenting him or coming on to him. He decided to play along with Robert’s deflection.

“Yeah, yeah. Adam said he would bring the beer. I can bring some crisps if you want. Say 5 ish?”

“No need. I will be making fish and chips. Just come by 5 and we’ll be all set.”

After a few awkward moments of silence, Robert chugged down the rest of his coffee, nodded his head and left the scrapyard.

Aaron could not move. He was sure that drool was falling down his face as he was unable to close his mouth. He was having an out of body experience. There was no way that Robert bleeding Sugden was attracted to him.

But it seemed that he was. He actually came out to Aaron and admitted that he found him attractive at the same time. It was as if someone had figured out all of Aaron’s deepest desires and had made them come true. So did that mean that he wanted to be Aaron? Surely he would have said something if he did. Instead, he had changed the subject and left. Perhaps Robert wasn’t ready and Aaron could respect that. He would follow Robert’s lead and act as if nothing had happened.

He would definitely do that as soon has his heart stopped hammering in his chest! He needed some time to calm down first!

Tonight was a game night. It had become a semi-usual event that Aaron and Adam would go to Robert’s place a couple of times a week for watching football and playing games or watching films on Robert’s giant TV. If Andy and Robert were on speaking terms that week, he would sometimes join them.

For some reason, Aaron put extra effort into getting ready. He then felt foolish for taking extra time because it was just their usual football night. Nothing more.

He finally decided on his usual black jeans and black hoody. But in the off chance that the universe wasn’t fucking with him, he put on his green sweater under the hoody. He felt ridiculous. There was no way that Robert wanted him.

A few hours later, he was completely convinced Robert wanted him.

It all started as soon as he got there with Adam. From the first moment, there was a charged feeling between them. It got so bad that even clueless Adam knew was something out of ordinary. Aaron was extra aware of Robert and he was trying so hard to not to be obvious that it was painful. During the game, Adam kept looking between them suspiciously. When Robert went to the kitchen to grab more beers, Adam finally snapped.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you two? Have you had fight or something?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Then what’s with the weird looks?”

“There are no weird looks! Shut up Adam!”

But when Robert came back Aaron turned red and turned away to look at the telly.

After the game, Adam was tired of both of them acting so strange, when Robert had gone to the loo, he ditched Aaron.

Robert came down the stairs a few minutes later. He froze on the doorway when he realized it was just him and Aaron.

“Where’s Adam?” he asked.

“Oh he just left.” Aaron was trying to sound casual.

Robert nodded his head and came to sit on the other side of the couch that Aaron was sitting.

“Another beer?” he offered.

“Nah you’re alright. I have to work early tomorrow and I don’t wanna be hungover.”

“So… fancy a movie? Or we could play some Fifa if you wanted?”

“What I want is you.” Aaron heard himself say. Fuuuuuuuuuck. Did he just say that out loud?! Judging by the way that Robert’s eyes widened and his face went red, it was safe to assume that yes, Aaron had said that out loud.

“I mean …. Not that… I mean I want to …. Look, just uhm…. Could you forget I said that?” Aaron spluttered. He was an idiot.

“uhm… how… why… really?” Robert said in reply. He didn’t seem repulsed by the idea. Aaron decided to take a chance. He had already ruined everything. What was a little love confession between friends?

“Yeah. I mean I do fancy ya. I mean more than fancy… like sort of kinda inloveish … yeah?” Aaron was hoping for a lighting strike or a giant hole in ground to swallow him so he could escape this utter humiliation.

Robert was silent for several excruciating moments. Enough to trigger Aaron’s fight and flight response. And since this was Robert, Aaron chose flight.

“So I guess I will be going. No need to you know say anything. And I guess I will see you around. Or not if you know, you don’t. So uhm. Yeah. Sorry. And thanks for you know. Yeah. Sorry.” Aaron said as he was pulling on his hoody and retreating to the front door. As he was about to open the door a pair of strong arms caught his arm and shoulder and turned him around.

Before he could say anything, Robert pressed him against the wall by the end of the stairs. His face was inches away from Aaron’s and he was directly looking at his eyes. Aaron held his breath. This was the look that had made him fall in love with him in the first place. The green eyes with such intensity, directing all of his attention towards Aaron. The heavy breathing and his parted lips was setting Aaron’s body on fire.

Robert finally broke the spell and looked at Aaron’s mouth.

“How do you know that you love me?”

It took all of Aaron’s strength to form a response.

“Because you are all I think about and every time I see you, it feels as if my heart wants to jump out of my chest.” Aaron said, without skipping a beat, looking directly at Robert’s eyes. The time for shyness and hiding was over. He had laid his heart to Robert. It was up to him to either take it or break it.

Robert was blushing which made his freckles more noticeable Aaron wanted to kiss all of them.

Robert took a step back. His face was unreadable. He had finally made a decision. He reached out with his hands and took Aaron’s hands in his. He brought one to his lips and kissed the back of his hand. He then looked at Aaron and smiled.

“You know?”

“I know.”

There was no more words needed. Robert didn’t let go of his hands as he took him upstairs. Aaron didn’t think he would ever stop smiling.

Later as Robert’s head was cradled between Aaron’s neck and shoulder and they were catching their breath, Aaron remembered something from earlier.

“So does that mean when you tell the Whites that you have a boyfriend, then it won’t be a scam anymore?” Aaron said as he was playing with Robert’s fingers.

“Is that your way of asking if I want to call us boyfriends?” Robert said while smiling into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Maybe”

“Hmmm, well I have a small confession to make. When Rebecca called before, I already told her I wasn’t interested and I was seeing someone else.” Robert said.

“Hang on a minute, so this morning, what was that? You trying to get in my pants by using a scam as an excuse?”

Robert lifted his head and looked at Aaron apologetically.

“Well, I wanted to ask you out but I didn’t know how to do it. I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely upset.

Aaron looked at him with a frown for a second before deciding to put him out of his misery. He then cracked a mischievous smile which prompted Robert to bite his chin.

“Ow! Stop it you muppet!” Aaron pretended he was hurt. Robert bent his head and kissed him where he had bitten him. He then turned to Aaron’s lips and they were both busy to think about anything else for a while.

“So what’s the latest scheme then, if not blackmailing the Whites?” Aaron said the next morning as he was drinking the coffee that Robert had just made. Robert turned around from the stove as he was making their breakfast. He was only in a t-shirt and underwear. He looked good enough to eat!

“Well, to be honest I am sort of bored with the Whites. But the other day I heard something particularly interesting that I think it would be an amazing thing to do with my brand new boyfriend.” He responded with a glint in his eyes. Aaron knew instantly that this was going to be one of those schemes that would either get them arrested or in feud with the locals. God he loved this man!

“Alright, let’s hear what am I going to go to prison for this time.” He already knew he would do it no matter what.

“Hey I resent the implication that I would risk my boyfriend getting caught.” Robert protested.

“Soft lad. Go on, let’s hear it.”

“How do you feel about puppies? Specifically how do you feel about messing with a couple of puppy breeders and potentially having to take over a breeding operation?”

Yup, he was in trouble alright.

[aftgficlibrary]

Mutual Pining Masterlist

Andreil

a chance to start again by eikoexe (M | Incomplete | 10/?)

Andrew Minyard was a consulting detective - probably one of the best. He lived a life alone and only kept well to his demands, solving more crimes than nobody could think possible. Wymack usually said he was stuck up on the job, Renee had been suggesting he finds himself someone to live with, just so he wouldn’t live a life full of solitude. Andrew said he didn’t need it, didn’t want it, that he was perfectly fine the way he was. But what if one day he met a boy who stubbornly tripped into his life? Who had been wanted by his father for running away? Who needed a place to stay… and who needed a home?

And so Andrew’s life changed when he met Neil Josten.

–

Or alternatively, a Sherlock AU where instead of Johnlock solving crimes, we get our Andreil boys.

Something, Nothing & Everything by TheBashfulPoet (E | 139,900 | 28/28)

Neil Josten is yet another name in a long list of identities used to hide a boy long since dead from a past blood had been spilled to forget. Essentially, he is and always will be nothing. And yet there has always been one thing that made Neil Josten real: music. After his mother’s death, music and singing were the only things tying him the threads of reality by the strap of a well-worn guitar. Too bad he’s pretty sure that it’s also going to be the thing to kill him. Especially when Kevin Day, international rock star and blast of Neil’s past comes waltzing back into his life demanding he joins the upstart and infamous band EXY as its new vocalist. To make matters worse, Kevin’s unofficial shadow, Andrew Minyard with a rap sheet taller than he is has taken an interest in the lie that Neil Josten and has made it his mission to uncover the bloodied truth that lies beneath.

By all accounts, Neil should just pick up his guitar and disappear like he’s done so many times before, but the chance to be real and seen is almost enough for him to plant his feet for the first time in 11 years he’s been running. Going into the spotlight means certain death, but Neil’s just not so sure that leaving it would mean anything different.

stars may collide by broship_addict, llheji (M | 20,664 | 2/2)

Moonlighting as Abram, member of the city's crime-fighting Foxes, Neil is doing a very bad job at staying under the radar. He's busy enough between his friends, patrol, and bickering with Andrew at work, but with the Ravens gang finally within reach and the reappearance of the Monster, he might have bitten more than he can chew.

(Or, how both Neil and Andrew accidentally fall in love with the same person twice. Lame.)

You Made a Monster Out of Me by basicallymonsters (M | Incomplete | 3/?)

He realizes that everyone feels exactly the same way he does, filthy and buzzed and understood and angry. His eyes find Andrew again, sober but animated like the drums are a live wire and he’s electric.

He thinks, if he could be part of this, if he could stand in the middle of the stage in a garden full of monsters, and sing the audience’s veins open, he would never need another drink, or another moment on court.

Prompt: Andreil in a rock band setting – tattoos, harsh lighting, calloused fingers, Andrew’s sweaty arms, Neil’s striking blue eyes, someone’s excellent voice, an uncomfortable undercurrent of drug abuse.

don’t take that sinner from me by wesninskids (M | Incomplete | 2/?)

In Bono, Alabama, a southern town where nobody ever goes, Neil Josten is a blind boy who used to read and write stories. Now he tells them aloud for his friend to write down, but things are quick to turn bland where there’s no color to see. He finds comfort in religion, thinking God can give him his eyes.

Then Andrew Minyard arrives in town in a dusty Impala and a crumpled suit, claiming he’s there to help Renee Walker take care of the church after the local priest’s death. Everyone soon starts wondering what his motives are and why he’d exile himself to a dead-end like theirs, mistrusting every word—but they’re after the wrong threat. Disillusioned and disappointed by religion, this lonely man of God came for a greater mission than preaching and blessing. He’s after something, and he might have just found it.

The blind boy of the town will either be his salvation or damnation, and he’s not sure which one yet.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence /Underage

doe & josten: deductionists by spanglebangle (M | Incomplete | 25/?)

Andrew Doe, rude but brilliant consulting detective, thought he had no need of a partner as he worked slowly away at dismantling the largest crime family in the country, helping out with other cases on the side to relieve the tedium. That was, until a scruffy runaway with a stupid amount of secrets stumbled into his life. Or, more accurately, broke into his kitchen.

/Rape/Non-Con / Graphic Depictions of Violence

roses are orange, and some also blue by apprenticedmagician (T | 1,295 | 1/1)

Dear Valentine, They aren’t poisonous. I checked. From - your pipe dream

wanting what you think you cannot have by orphan_account (T | Incomplete | 1/?)

this was a fic written for the aftgexchange on tumblr, but i decided to continue it as a multi-chapter fic on ao3! this is a fake dating au with no seth, riko/the moryamas, and drake so it’s the softest thing you’ll ever read

neil is a runaway, andrew works at a bakery, and nicky is really, really nosy. being someone’s fake boyfriend is a lot harder than it looks, especially when you’re hardcore crushing on them

double scoop by broship_addict (T | 3,733 | 1/1)

Neil serves ice cream and Andrew might be addicted. There’s a lot of blushing.

Series: Part 1 of share a pint, share a kiss

only fools by kazbrekker_morelike_kazwrecker (E | 19,833 | 20/20)

A flower shop/coffee shop AU that no one asked for but appeared in my brain and had to get out. Neil never played Exy and never met the Foxes at PSU, but his story with his father remains the same. Neil doesn’t like people much but neither does Andrew and everyone knows coffee brings people together

the foxtrot’s not for the faint of heart by kazbrekker_morelike_kazwrecker, smolmoll04 (M | Incomplete | 3/?)

The Foxes are a dance group working their way up from being mostly underground and found their new studio and Wymack as their producer. The Moriyamas are a powerful human trafficking syndicate and instead of Exy, they deal in dance competitions. Neil’s father wanted to sell him to the syndicate but his mother was like NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH and ran with him.

Neil has found the Foxes and a familiar face… He also gets to meet a certain sarcastic five foot tall blond and things ensue…

trust fall by emeryuu (E | 9,948 | 1/1)

Neil is a florist who loves his job but isn’t going to refuse a second job if he can make good money from it. Even if the said job is bartending at a club. Even if that club is a BDSM club.

Andrew is a tattoo artist working at the studio next to neil’s flower shop. He’s a regular at Eden’s Twilight where he always can find a sub willing to do a scene with him.

One night they meet at the club and that’s a beginning of a new journey for both of them. What starts as simple deal to let Neil explore parts of life he hadn’t chance to explore, slowly becomes something much bigger.

Series: Part 1 of games

hazel and gold by obsessedwithfictionalboys (T | Incomplete | 4/?)

AU in which Andrew doesn’t hate everything and Neil does not know how to deal with this beautiful nerd.

Allison/Renee (renison)

we all need sweets every now and then by downintheflames (M | Incomplete | 1/?)

A storm rumbled towards the team as they ran laps on the lacrosse field. Wymack had proclaimed they needed to breathe real air to get all their bullshit out of their system. Allison had complained about the humidity ruining her hair before she stopped to watch the clouds trip over themselves in the sky. Renee liked to think that in another life, Allison would have been a storm chaser. She was staring at the sky in awe while Renee stared at her. Andrew cleared his throat loudly. Neil nudged him softly then silently assured her that she should continue on - that the vulnerability was a good thing. Nicky rambled on to no one in particular about how one time when he was in Germany with Eric… Kevin slid his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the clouds so he could look up exactly what kind they were when they returned to the dorms. Aaron grumbled about how stupid running laps outdoors was. Dan barked at them to get a move on - that they wouldn’t stop unless there was lightning. Matt immediately picked up his pace with Allison following behind him. Renee shook herself out of her thoughts. Allison was her best friend and nothing more. Andrew needed to stop acting like her saying that was such a joke.

too late. by icebreeze (T | 1,555 | 1/1)

Life never goes to plan. Love is no exception to this.

you, just you by zucheenee (M | 17,651 | 1/1)

Allison grabbed another slice of pizza, leaning back in her chair. Renee worried, not for the first time, that she’d fall and give herself a concussion. Allison sighed and flicked a lock of long blonde hair behind her shoulder, suddenly looking up and meeting Renee’s eyes. “Boys are just so stupid, right?” She said, smiling prettily at Renee. Allison always smiled prettily, and Renee wanted to die.

“Right.”

In which Allison can’t seem to find the right man, and Renee wishes Allison would get a clue.

lonely ♡s club by modernpatroclus (T | 1,719 | 1/1)

“Next time you need an outlet, come to me. I’ll take you shopping, not beat the shit out of you.”

“Andrew doesn’t usually beat me. I was distracted this morning.”

Renee realizes she’s tired of being set up with gay boys. Allison realizes that she’s ready to move on from Seth when she sees Renee after her latest sparring session with Andrew.

Jean/Jeremy (Jerejean)

playing on by flybbfly (M | 142,179 | 31/31)

"Who knew California Golden Boy Jeremy Knox could play dirty?”

Jeremy grins. “Best kept secret on the west coast. Told you there was a western division striker who could dispossess you.”

“On a practice court, maybe," Jean says. "Try to get it away from me during a game.”

Jeremy leans back, bracing himself on gloved hands. “Luckily, I won't ever have to.”

In which Jean Moreau and Jeremy Knox play exy, share a dorm room, and accidentally insult each another a lot.

between hoping and believing by cryptidkidprem (T | 47,332 | 7/7)

Jean convinced himself a long time ago that he doesn't have a soulmate. Or maybe he just wants to believe that. Things would be easier if he was destined to be alone. It will at least hurt less when he inevitably winds up that way anyway.

And then there's Jeremy, who's been dreaming of meeting his match for years. For some reason, Jeremy seems determined to convince Jean that sometimes he might actually be able to have the things he hopes for, and that soulmate or no, Jean Moreau has people who will stick with him.

Two Bros Five Feet Apart by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) (M | 27,220 | 9/9)

Jeremy sniffed as he looked at his computer screen and the email he had just opened up. Every colourful picture and excited blurb just another stab to his tattered heart. And there at the bottom, the biggest blow of all, “non-refundable.”

He sighed and slammed his laptop shut, not caring that his rough treatment could damage it. Right now, he wanted to damage something. A significant portion of his savings had gone into these tickets and now he had nothing to show for it, no girlfriend, no awesome vacation, and absolutely zero chill.

Jeremy's girlfriend dumps him on the eve of a romantic vacation. Jean fills in.

dreams of being golden by poetatertot (M | Incomplete | 6/8)

The ocean is a healer. This Jeremy knows better than anyone. It’s why he came back himself, when all turned to nothing; it’s why he took the others under his roof when the shadows at their back threatened to swallow them whole. It’s why he lets Jean in when he shows up suddenly, his pale face a soft light in the darkness. Jeremy sees him and knows he can’t subsist as he is, alone.

The ocean can’t change Jean’s past, but maybe it can wash his future into smooth, clean sand the way it did for so many others.

Stupid (for you) by justdk (T | 1,647 | 1/1)

He’s not the only who cares for Jean, the entire team has his back, wants to see him get better. But Jeremy’s the only one who is completely, helplessly in love with Jean Moreau and it hurts.

Face to the Sun by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) (G | 1,272 | 1/1)

Jeremy and Jean have been pining for each other for too long. The Trojans plan an intervention.

Series: Part 3 of All for the Game Tumblr Prompts

Shield for a Heart by neilskey (spellitwithyourpeas) (M | 54,949 | 16/16)

“It’s your choice, but you’re rotting away in here, Jean and no matter what she says, you can’t live in Abby’s spare bedroom forever. Time to start fighting again.”

Kevin’s hard and commanding tone was no surprise. The softness had been beaten out of him around the same time as Jean.

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

Maybe it was because he had been half hidden in shadows-Jean had kept the shades drawn, but light still seeped in the cracks- but Jean thought he had seen something akin to understanding paint Kevin’s cool expression. “He’s gone. You survived. Play or don’t, it’s up to you, but you need to get out of this fucking house.” // Jean's first year at USC. Jeremy falls hard, Jean comes around eventually.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

eyes wide open by jaylocked (T | 13,496 | 2/2)

Jean blinked. Blinked again. Was sure he didn’t recognize the man on his doorstep, with his bright eyes and enormous grin and wavy blonde hair. Waited for him to explain himself with a simple raised eyebrow.

“Hi!” the man finally chirped. The sound was happiness channeled into a single word, and Jean wasn’t sure how he didn’t hate him already.

(based on the prompt from tumblr: "hi sorry I live below you and I hear your dog running around and barking all the time and– no no it's fine I was just wondering if I could pet it?" au)

Kevin/Jeremy

lit me up by thisisallmarvelsfault (M | Incomplete | 2/3)

When Jeremy goes to South Carolina to pick up Jean, he and Kevin go to the court with a bottle of vodka and Kevin brings up Nicky’s “list.”

[Or, the life and times of Kevin and Jeremy.]

Neil/Riko

burn, baby, burn by wesninskids (M | Incomplete | 3/?)

Nathaniel Wesninski is Riko’s precious #2, his best backliner, weapon of choice, and only mercenary—the first piece of his Perfect Court: in exchange of everything, thirteen year old Nathaniel gets his number tattooed on his cheekbone and becomes Riko’s partner for better or for worse. Soon Kevin Day and Jean Moreau join the envied line of Ravens and become partners in their turn, and the four of them chase after glory and find the missing pieces of their Perfect Court one player after the other, drunk on power and victory, caring for one another no matter what.

But then Nathaniel strikes a deal with Lola Malcolm to protect himself, and it’s all downhill from here.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

[alvarezforthegame]

25 Days of Foxmas

Day One: Tree

super psyched to be posting this story!!! i love christmas and i’ve been working on this series for a few months!

you can read it here on ao3! or you can keep reading it under the cut!

Summary:  Getting a tree is customary for Christmas, a long-standing tradition in most families, one that Neil never got. So Andrew brainstorms ideas with Bee and decides that Neil is getting a tree this year. 

So Andrew wasn’t exactly a fan of the holidays. This had more to do with the fact that Neil had gone to the Ravens than anything else, because he felt that it was obvious that a shitty childhood would come with shitty childhood memories. He had expressed this opinion to Bee with blunt sincerity, and she had just nodded and asked if he wanted a candy cane to stir his hot chocolate with. He’d accepted the candy while he told her about how much he despised the holidays and gift giving and the adamance with which department stores pushed sales. He hated everything to do with the holidays and refused to participate.

So why was Andrew standing outside of the stadium, leaning against his car with Bee, smoking a cigarette and wrapped in a winter coat? Why was he texting Neil fervently, telling him to hurry his stupid ass up? Why did he have an extra jacket in the back seat? Why had he threatened Kevin to make Neil get off the court on time?

“Are you going to do anything with Neil?” Bee asked, her tongue swiping stray hot chocolate from the corner of her mouth. She reached forward and adjusted the little Santa figurine on her desk, aligning it with the reindeer and a moose baking cookies. “He might be interested.”

Andrew felt his brow drop into a glower, thinking about his dumb boyfriend and how he had probably never had a happy Christmas, and how he had overheard Dan and Matt planning to pool their money to buy Neil an extra pair of shoes so that he could run in the woods if they ever went back to Allison’s cabin.

“He’s never had a real Christmas,” was all Andrew said to Bee.

Because Neil was a little asshole who had never celebrated anything and dammit, Andrew hated the holidays but at least he had them. Nicky bought him gifts, and he and Aaron bitterly posed by the tree that they got every year. Even Bee made him peppermint hot chocolate after Thanksgiving ended.

Neil had never had that, Andrew knew. He had been on the run for so long, and more importantly, he had never learned to not stress about his money. Blending in didn’t cost a lot, and Kevin had felt inclined to inform him that chapstick didn’t count as a present. The problem was that Neil didn’t know how to celebrate, and he didn’t want anything because he didn’t know how to want anything. He didn’t understand that he was allowed to enjoy things, and that people wanted to buy things for him.

“Allison asked me what she should buy Neil for Christmas, but I don’t know what he wants.”

“Neil doesn’t want a lot, hm?” Bee was just asking questions to ask them - obviously Neil didn’t want a lot. He was a dumb idiot and Andrew was wondering if Wymack would get mad if Neil showed up to practice in his first set of dirty clothes again. Probably.

Neil’s head emerged from the doors of the court, stopping for a moment when he saw Bee sitting on the hood of the car alongside Andrew. He jerked forward for a moment, and then began walking, and Andrew realized that Kevin had probably shoved Neil forward because he was blocking the doorway.

Andrew had threatened Kevin that he would kill him the next time he laid a hand on Neil, but he figured that he could extend his holiday spirit to Kevin too, if he had to. Even annoying strikers had to be shown some cheer every once in awhile.

“Maybe you do some Christmas stuff with Neil? Do you remember what Nicky did for you and Aaron? Or maybe Nicky can take Neil out?”

“No, I want to take Neil. I remember what Nicky did.”

He paused for a moment, thinking about Nicky bringing the tree home, decorating it while Christmas movies played on the television. He usually danced around the kitchen and would go through the cabinets looking for ingredients to bake cookies - he always left out the tray, even if Andrew and Aaron weren’t in on the Christmas spirit.

Andrew made Bee leave the hacksaw in the trunk of the car, saying that it was something to do with Neil being impulsive, but he was pretty sure that Bee knew it was because of Neil’s somewhat rocky past with blades. He watched Kevin herd Neil away from the stadium and to the parking lot.

“Andrew! And Bee?” Neil asked, jogging up to the car while Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Get him home by midnight, Andrew.”

“Not likely, Kevin. Leave me and Neil alone.” Andrew flicked his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out before opening the driver’s side door. “Bee gets front seat, Neil,” he said before slipping into the car.

Kevin rolled his eyes again and walked away toward Fox Tower, while Neil made way for the back seat. Bee looked like she wanted to offer her place in the passenger seat to him, but Neil didn’t like being studied, and therefore didn’t want to have her behind them, watching and taking in all their little quirks and interactions.

“Where are we going?” Neil asked, watching the road stretch ahead of them. They drove past Columbia, further into rural area than he wanted to be.

Andrew kept his eyes on the road as usual, but he was dying for another cigarette. If he didn’t have to worry about Bee, he would pull over and light one. She didn’t like when he smoked, and he had to respect that.

“Go to sleep, Neil. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

--

An hour and two phone calls to Nicky later, Andrew pulled into the dirt lot outside of a “Saint Nick’s Christmas Tree Farm” and turned the engine off. He reached back and tugged on a chunk of Neil’s stupidly long hair, trying to wake him without too much trouble. Neil grimaced, but slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Where are we, Andrew?” His hair flopped into his line of sight, his bandana still on the seat where his head had been.

“Fix your hair, Josten,” Andrew said bluntly, reaching for his cigarettes before deciding against it. Bee wouldn’t be appreciative of it, and this seemed like a family-friendly area. Instead, he crossed to the back of the car and popped the trunk to grab the saw.

The trio walked into the fences and were met by a jaunty college student with her braids tied up into two buns and elf ears clipped in. She bounded up to them with her hands in her green canvas apron and a huge smile across her face.

“Hey! Welcome to the farm! We’ve got firs, spruces, and pines, it just depends on what you’re looking for and how big you want it to be.”

“We’ll go for the Douglas fir, thanks.”

“Nicky always got us Douglas firs. I don’t know why. He says they’re the best one to get.”

Andrew had finished his hot chocolate, and staring at the slush of the candy cane that was left over. He could taste the film that the drink left in his mouth.

“Do you think that you can bring a real tree into the Fox Tower?”

Andrew could practically see Bee thinking about all the needles across the floor.

“Why would I bring a tree into Fox Tower if Neil and I are spending the break at the house in Columbia?”

Bee nodded, taking her final drink of her hot chocolate. She’d always been slower at drinking hers than Andrew had been. She looked at the clock, and Andrew knew that it was time for their session to end.

“I’ll see you next week, Andrew. Thank you for talking to me about the holidays. I think you and Neil will have a lovely time.”

Andrew stood and made his way to the door, pushing open part way, before turning back to.

“Bee?”

She stopped putting her notebooks away and looked at Andrew. “Yes?”

“Can you come get a tree with us?”

The girl pointed them in the direction of the Douglas firs and turned her attention to the next group of people who had entered the farm’s gates. Andrew walked forward without question, and Neil and Bee followed. It took them ten minutes to reach the section with the trees, whereupon Bee decided that she needed to use the restroom, and disappeared off in search of the building.

Andrew turned his attention to Neil, who was glaring at a Douglas fir for no apparent reason.

“Did the tree say something about exy?” Andrew asked, walking up to Neil’s side. “Or do you just look like that all the time?”

Neil turned his grimace to Andrew, who had done nothing to deserve it, much like the tree.

“It’s cold, Andrew.”

“No shit, Josten. Do you like this one?” Andrew motioned to the tree that Neil had been making faces at.

Neil shrugged. “How do you know how to pick them?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “You check to see if the needles are brown, and if the trunk is healthy,” he said, inspecting the tree. He found a bunch of dried parts and shook his head. “This one isn’t good. We can find a better one.”

“I want to be closer to Neil,” Andrew said softly. He stared into his lap and  twisted his thumbs. He could hear Bee sit up straighter while her pen ran against her paper, before she finished and tapped it three times.

“Is there any reason why?”

“I don’t know.”

Andrew chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked up at Bee. She was giving him a sympathetic look, which Andrew didn’t usually appreciate. She folded her hands together.

“Do you want to brainstorm ideas?”

“I don’t know.”

Bee thought for a moment longer, and then smiled again.

“Why don’t you wait for a moment? I trust that you’ll be able to figure out a good one.”

He turned on his heel and began to wander through the trees, trying to find one that looked like one that Nicky would have picked. At one point, Neil was dawdling in front of one tree that was still too brown for Andrew’s liking, and Andrew found his moment. He took a deep breath and reached for Neil’s hand.

Neil stood up as if ice water had been poured down his back. He looked down to their interlocked hands, then slowly looked to Andrew.

“Yes or no?”

Neil nodded jerkily. “Yes.”

“Then let’s find a tree.”

Bee found them twenty minutes later and helped them carry the tree to the front. The workers at the gates helped them trim the trunk down to the house’s dimensions and tie it to the car.

Andrew paid at the kiosk, Neil standing closer to him than they had started out.

[psychokai1972]

The Boss- Part 11

The Boss- Masterlist

Part 10

CEO!Sebastian Stan x CEO!Reader

Word Count: 3143

Warnings: language, angst, fluff.

Summary: Y/N and Sebastian are co-CEOs of a successful company. Their relationship is not the best. It’s more a competition than anything. But eventually they’ll have to learn to cope with each other.

A/N:  I already posted this, but need more people to confirm:I have been thinking of starting a new series about Bucky inspired on this request I did a little over a month ago: “Connection”, it would kind of follow that storyline, just kind of.What do you guys think about it? Should or should I not start it?

Also, do you think this fic is becoming too long?

“It would make us lose money.” One of the, who Y/N liked to call the elders ,argued; making what he thought  a valid point for their idea of a charity to not go through. 

The sight that left her lips was unmistakable,all eyes posing on her. Sebastian turned his head briefly at her, clearing his throat and sending her a warning look. Y/N lifted one perfect eyebrow to the board, the corner of her lips moving up. “Spending money in a charity for this company, would be like loosing a dollar.” She remarked, her elbows resting on the table. “Gentlemen, creating a charity will give the company more fame and the incomes will just go up. We would be seen as caring and humble, the world will see us as something more than a bunch of rich people.” She finished, her gaze resting on every single one of the men in that room; last to Sebastian, who had a hardly noticeable smile crossing his lips. Indicating her, that she did good.

“Mr.Stan,what do you think of your fiancée’s proposition?” Martin Coleman said, the oldest of the board.Of course, even if they like her ideas, they would always look for a man’s approval, because just the approval of a woman would be too much for them to handle. Bastards, she thought. 

Martin Coleman was an individual that could be easier convinced by a man than by a woman; it just gave Y/N trouble every time she did her job as the CEO of the company. Her hand hid under the table, fingers tightly gripping the chair’s material and jaw clenching in the urge of not screaming all kinds of obscenities to that man. The blood inside Y/N’s veins was heating up, Martin Coleman had called her Sebastian’s fiancée instead of what they used to call her before all of the engagement thing happened; and the way he said it was to mock her. Coleman did know what buttons to push to make her uneasy.

Sebastian stood straight on the chair, glaring at Y/N before speaking. “It’s something we both talked about and agreed on.” Words for all of them to hear, but eyes locked on the man across from him.

The suited men looked at each other before letting the oldest speak, Y/N swore she was so done with their shit, they always acted like their final decisions where some kind of matter of life or death. “Alright then, we all agree on it.” Coleman spoke.

Y/N could not control rolling her eyes at his final verdict, there had not been a single time when she didn't find the fact that they listened more to Sebastian than to her-even if both CEOs were talking about the same thing- absurd. The ‘elderly’ started gathering their belongings and going out the conference room. Y/N and Sebastian remained seated saying their goodbyes to them. 

“Y/N.” Martin Coleman called before stepping out of the room. Both Y/N and Sebastian turned their heads to him, waiting for his sayings. “ It seems that the pregnancy’s hormones have not clouded your mind,yet. Let’s try and keep it that way a little longer.” The gray haired man finished his words with a smirk that remained engraved in Y/N’s brain alongside the echoing of his sentence. She kept her mouth shut until he left the room.

“What the actual fuck!?” Y/N yelled in the wrap of a whisper. “ Apart from the fact that he thinks that pregnant women can’t make rational decisions; he also stated that not if the pregnancy hormones take over me, but when they’ll take over me. That bastard, like what? It is supposed that I’ll be waiting ‘till pregnancy makes me irrational or something as if I was on some kind of pills and waiting for their effect to kick in!?”

Sebastian followed her moves around the conference room with his steel blue eyes, her arms gesticulating as the words fell out of her mouth. He very well knew that what Coleman said was out of place and that she was mad; but, he found her so sexy when she was angry, he could just not resist himself from having some dirty thoughts at the moment. But he had to push them aside.

“You know how he is, he has this old mind like most of them, that’s because they are actually old.” He stood from the chair, approaching her and resting his butt on the large table in front of her, not fully sitting; one of his hands went into the front pocket of his pants while the other grabbed the table’s border. 

“Are yo-” Sebastian stopped her before she could finish her sayings.

“No, I’m not trying to justify his actions. What I’m saying is that most of them grew up in another time, they are not like us, they are old and grumpy and hate us for being young, rich and good looking. I mean, have you seen them? They look like dinosaurs.” Involuntarily she smiled. 

“I know, but sometimes I just want to slap them so hard.” She whined like a  little girl, gently rubbing her temples.

“Yeah, I've noticed how you grip that chair when some of them are, you know, idiots.” Suddenly a thought rushed inside her mind.

“Sebastian I forgot to tell you.” The romanian rested his eyes on her features. “I received this morning a call from  Jeffrey Simmons' assistant, he’s one of our associates and he invites us to his 60th birthday party this Saturday...in New Orleans.” She concluded bitting the inside of her cheek.

The blue eyed man groaned and threw his head back. “I don’t like it.” He said taking a deep breath.

“Well, me neither, but it is what it is and I already told Aaron to buy the plane tickets  for this Friday.” Y/N rested her small hand on his shoulders and the other was rubbing her belly softly. Sebastian lowered his gaze, resting it on her bump briefly and put his hand over hers, fingers soothingly caressing her skin.

“Are you going to be okay so far from home?” Sebastian asked with worried eyes, the thought that maybe it was better for the baby to just remain in the comfort of her home crossing his mind.

“Yes, Sebastian. It’s just a trip, what could go wrong?” Y/N asked rhetorically, his warm touch making her relax.

____________________________________________________________

The dark was over the city of New Orleans. Sebastian was walking by her side with his hand holding hers, the bellman leading them with their suitcases to their room. Y/N was tired, she could feel her eyes aching to be closed and have a peaceful sleep. All day, both her and Sebastian had been working, the only time they could take the flight to New Orleans being in the afternoon. She had been awake since 5 a.m, more so because of the baby; in the office, they had spent the entire day in meetings for the charity; added to all of that was the three hour flight where she could not close her eyes for a mere second because work decided to make her company on the little trip. 

Her free hand moved to the small of her back, as she waited for the bellman to open the door to the hotel suite. Y/N forgot about Sebastian and the bellman for the moment, entering the room the first thing she saw was the king sized bed that looked so appealing to her, she only wanted to rest her tired body on it and not leave it for a few hours. At the other side of the bed and bellow the windows was a small gray couch; the whole room was submerged in gray and white colors; the room had one desk against the wall where the bed was and a dinner table at the other side of the room, in front of the bed.

She didn't even noticed Sebastian closing the door behind him, until he let their suitcases on the bed in front of her. “Hungry?” He asked.

“I just want to sleep.” She mumbled, opening her suitcase and taking her toiletry bag and pajamas out. It was the first time in ages that she felt so tired so early, the clock had marked only 10:13 p.m. 

“We should order something. I don’t care that you want to sleep, I won’t let you go to bed until you eat before.” Sebastian took a pause and she knew what he was about to say; and she hated it because she could not refuse. “For the baby, for James.” He finally spoke.

Y/N sighed closing her eyes briefly. “Okay, you call, I’ll go take a shower.” She said before leaving to the bathroom.

She took her clothes off and looked at herself in the mirror, the bump was getting more noticeable. She shook her head at the sight of her smile.Y/N tuned on the shower, stepping inside and letting the hot water take over her body, every drop taking away the pain and the stress, her muscles relaxing. The CEO’s fingers run along her hair, pulling it back and letting a satisfying groan in the process. 

By the time she came out of the bathroom food was served, Sebastian was seated at the table with his phone in his holding, scrolling through what seemed to be instagram. Her legs made their way opposite from him, her hair was still slightly wet, water dripping from it to her clothing. Sebastian locked his phone and left it at his left, straightening himself on the chair and taking the fork. She took a piece of the chicken breasts, chewing on it slowly.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Sebastian offered. 

Y/N frowned her eyebrows lightly and waited to swallow the food before talking. “Don’t be ridiculous Sebastian, you don’t even fit in that couch.” She pointed at the furniture behind her. 

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“The bed is big enough for both of us Sebastian. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.” The woman made a gesture as if it was not big deal, and it really wasn't, at least for her. But for Sebastian it was a whole other perspective, his heart was jumping of joy in his chest. “ We are not teenagers, no need of making of this something huge or uncomfortable.” She spoke her mind.

Sebastian sent a small smile her way. “ Don’t you think it’s weird that Jeffrey invited us to his birthday party?I mean, he never has before.” 

“ A little bit, but I don’t really know what’s going on in people’s mind, so I’m not bothering myself with it.” She shrugged her shoulders, not giving the man’s actions much importance. Maybe he wanted to congratulate them for the engagement and the baby, being that the reason for the invite. She didn't care about it, she just wanted to sleep before James would start and kick her insides, again. 

___________________________________________________________

Shifting on the bed uncomfortably she groaned, rubbing her eyes and opening them slowly; the light of the TV making them close again briefly until she adjusted to it. She had fallen asleep before Sebastian had finished his shower, probably he watched TV and fell asleep. The woman looked at her right side, Sebastian was sound asleep on his stomach, arms hid under the pillow and his features where facing her. Her hand searched blindly for the remote on the bed, finding it close to her body she took it and turned the TV off. Her eyes dared to the night stand, a digital clock there showed her that the time was 2 in the morning.

“James, please.” She whined silently, hands rubbing her belly softly in a vain attempt to try and calm the  baby’s kicks down. But the baby kept on with his doings, as if his life depended on it. She huffed, sitting on the bed and resting her body on the headboard, waiting of it to stop. But if it was as the previous nights, baby James would not stop anytime soon. “God baby, please let mommy sleep.” She begged again.

Sebastian heard her pleadings, her voice desperate in need of sleep. He opened his eyes and saw her. “What’s wrong?” He asked concerned, his voice coming out hoarse.

Y/N widened her eyes in surprise, it wasn't her intention to wake him up, after all, he had had a long day just as her. “God, sorry I didn't want to wake you.” She apologized with a whisper.

“Don’t worry Y/N. Just, tell me what’s wrong?” He asked once again with his head still on the pillows.

She looked down at him. “James is fully awake and won’t let me sleep.” The woman muttered.

Sebastian moved closer to her, lifting her top slightly he  rested his head near her bump and let his hand rub her skin, James' kicks pushing against his palm. “Buddy, it’s late and your mother needs to rest. So, would you please stop?” His voice was soft and authoritarian at the same time, earning a light chuckle from her.

“ If that works, I swear I’m gonna kiss you.” Y/N said.

Sebastian looked up at her with raised eyebrows and then connected his blue gaze with her bump again, wishing his son was done for the night. But it just looked like James was not playing for his father’s team, or anyone’s actually, just his.The romanian sighed sitting on the bed.

“Alright, let’s go for a walk.” He said standing from the bed and heading for the closet, pulling out two pairs of shoes.

“A walk?” She asked while her body moved to let her legs hanging at the edge.

“ Yes, we are going to tire him out, or to see if a little movement calms him.” He moved to her with her black converse in hand. They had put with them some casual clothes for their plan of  exploring the city before the party. He knelt in front of her, taking her feet and putting her shoes on. 

“Is it cold outside?” Her eyes followed his moves.

“Doesn't matter, we are just going to walk around the hotel.” He tied her shoes. “And if anybody tries to tell us that we can’t, we’ll use the baby card.” Sebastian winked at her with a smile and got up from the floor, holding his hand out for her to take. He helped her stand and took the room’s key card.

“This better work, Sebastian.” She whispered outside of the room, worried that someone may hear them.

“If it doesn't I promise I’ll carry you back.” Involuntary she wrapped her arm with his. They had spent so much time as a fake couple in the public eye, that the actions of holding his hand or calling him sweet names where almost mechanic, something her subconscious did. At this point it was as if they were method actors. 

“ Sounds right to me.” She smiled glaring at him.

“It’s the first time that’s happening?” He wondered, their feet walking down the hallway to who knew where.

“No, it’s been going on for the whole week.” She muttered. 

Sebastian turned his head to her with a look she could not read on his face. “Why didn't you tell me anything?” He sounded a little upset about her not running to him before.

“Because I don’t think it’s important and because there is nothing that you could have done.” She answered shrugging her shoulders.

“First of all, when we are talking about our kid and the mother of my son it’s important.” She felt her heart flip in her chest. “And second of all, I don’t care that maybe I couldn't help, but I would had stayed awake with you all night Y/N, to keep you company.” Her heart flipped again. Her mouth frowned in confusion before he noticed it, trying to keep her feelings as drowned as possible. “From now on, you come to me okay? If I’m not home you call me and I’ll stay with you on the phone ‘till you fall asleep or if I can I’ll go as soon as I can to you. But you need to tell me, Y/N.” He stopped on his tracks, turning his body to hers and resting his hands on her shoulders. The romanian’s steel blue eyes locked on her big ones, waiting for her answer.

“ Fine. Your inner dad showing too much?” She laughed, interviewing their arms together again and retaking their walk, going down the stairs. 

“There is no inner dad anymore Y/N, it has been on the surface since I first noticed your bump.” He remarked, helping her down the stairs and into the hotel’s large lobby. The receptionist smiled at them and did not ask anything nor gave them a warning. “Do you want to sit?” He asked looking at the numerous couches.

She shook her head, still thinking of his previous words. She liked his dad side, but she liked it more that it just showed with her. They kept on walking in a comfortable silence, her mind wondering about them. She pictured how different both their lives would had been if she didn't go to the clinic; probably they wouldn't have spent more time than the necessary together; probably they would still throw trash at each other at every chance they got. Y/N didn't know why, but her heart hurt in that instant, thinking that the memories they were making because of the baby would not have existed if things were otherwise. The kind of relationship they had now was something she very much liked, even though sometimes they were jerks to each other; after all, old habits die hard. And because of that, their feelings from their once love story were still not dead.

“Did he stop?” Sebastian asked looking at her. 

Y/N zoomed out of the movie her brain was creating and stared at him. She hadn't even realized that James’ kicks had faded away. “Oh god, yes!” She said excited, a bright smile plastered on her tired but beautiful features.

“ It seems that after all, I did help you.” Sebastian smirked. 

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Thank you.” She said, while they were making their way back.

“Don’t, it’s my responsibility to make sure you are both good.” Sebastian interviewed their fingers, lifting her hand to his mouth and softly kissing it’s back. “Let’s just hope that young man doesn't decide to start again once we are in bed.” He laughed pointing at her belly.

“ If he does, you will be singing to him Disney songs.” Y/N’s tone was one of joking, but he took it at serious.

“Deal.” Sebastian said shaking his hand with hers. “Just hope I won’t have to do that, for both of our shakes.” His mouth closed in a tight line as he shook his head dramatically, a smile showing his white teeth appearing shortly after. 

 Y/N looked at the father of her son in awe, he sometimes amazed her in the best of ways.

Part 12

MASTERLIST

Taglist is open (the crossed tags don’t work):

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[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, July 27

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince Harry trapped in marriage from hell to Meghan Markle 

Page 2: Mariah Carey has slimmed down again and the formerly plump pop star’s recent pics have stunned doctors who believe she’s lost at least 60 pounds in the last year and experts believe the recent weight drop may have come with some medical assistance plus experts warn the star’s constant weight swings have placed her health at risk 

Page 3: Paris Jackson bravely reveals suicide ordeal -- admits many attempts after losing dad Michael Jackson 

Page 4: Shia LaBeouf got his whole chest permanently inked to get into character as a vicious gangster for his new movie The Tax Collector 

Page 5: Head-over-heels Ben Affleck is raring to have a baby with girlfriend Ana de Armas, Ashton Kutcher has rushed to the rescue of Hollywood pariah Lea Michele and now he’s on the outs with wife Mila Kunis -- Lea has been blasted as a despicable and cruel and entitled bully by former castmates on Glee and Broadway but Ashton who was paired with Lea in the 2011 rom-com New Year’s Day thinks she’s gotten a raw deal while Mila thinks Ashton is crazy for sticking his neck out for someone he hasn’t seen that much over the last decade 

Page 6: The bizarre marriage of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith has hit a crisis point over another man and the blowback may push them toward a $270 million divorce -- both Will and Jada have denied humiliating reports that she was involved in a torrid two-year affair with their son Jaden Smith’s pal singer August Alsina with Will’s blessing 

Page 7: Christina Ricci’s domestic battery call was just round one in what promises to be a bitter divorce brawl with husband James Heerdegen -- Christina secured an emergency protective order against James after cops were called to the couple’s Woodland Hills home after he allegedly spit at her and now Christina has filed for divorce and sole custody of their five-year-old son Freddie, Sarah Palin and husband Todd Palin quietly finalized their split 

Page 8: Lonely Caitlyn Jenner has lost hope of making a love connection with 24-year-old live-in Sophia Hutchins and she’s on the hunt for romance and the 70-year-old longs for a partner to give her the affection she craves

Page 9: Tubby Adam Sandler and dumpy Denzel Washington have packed on the pounds during lockdown and now docs fear the Hollywood heavyweights may be digging their graves with a fork and spoon -- Denzel weighs close to 250 pounds and Adam is five-foot-ten and weighs 230 pounds 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Brooke Shields in the Hamptons wearing a patriotic bikini,  Brooke Burke on a swing in her backyard, pregnant Sophie Turner out for a walk in Encino 

Page 11: Lara Flynn Boyle stepped out in L.A. during quarantine to stock up on essentials including a bottle of vodka but with sagging jowls and a puffy trout pout the actress was nearly unrecognizable, Tom Cruise is a dominant individual who left costar Thandie Newton terrified and insecure while filming Mission: Impossible 2 and Tom has since sent her Christmas gifts linked to his controversial religion of Scientology 

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Millie Bobby Brown with alien balloons (picture), Alicia Keys and Beyonce have both struck a sour note with their Black Lives Matter music tanking -- Alicia’s Perfect Way to Die is nowhere on the charts and few are lining the streets to cheer Beyonce’s Black Parade, Chris Pratt needs to finish filming Jurassic World: Dominion in London in the next few months just when he and wife Katherine Schwarzenegger are expecting their first child so Chris will have to make a choice between work or his wife and new baby -- Chris is contractually obligated to be on set when they start although every effort will be made so he can take the 11-hour flight home on weekends, producers of RHOBH have discouraged the housewives from being political on the show because the audience is far more interested in personal drama and fights between the ladies but Lisa Rinna intends to change all that when the show starts filming again and she plans to use her platform to push her views on climate change and other issues, despite the raging pandemic The Bachelorette Clare Crawley won’t be wearing a mask and neither will any of her suitors because the show is about escape and people watch it to forget their troubles 

Page 13: Kanye West’s bizarre pronouncement that he’s running for U.S. president has the entire Kardashian family quaking in fear about the can of worms his candidacy could open -- Kardashian momager Kris Jenner is furious because it’s likely to trigger media scrutiny and probes by political opponents into the family’s private lives and business deals 

Page 14: True Crime 

Page 15: Cradle-robbing Mary Kay Letourneau’s scandal-scarred life came to a tragic and lonely end at 58 as she died of cancer after being dumped by her husband and reduced to living in squalor 

Page 16: Jeffrey Epstein’s galpal Ghislaine Maxwell’s arrest has big shots shaking -- with Ghislaine behind bars there is growing concern their high-powered pals will try to quash evidence in the explosive sex scandal 

Page 18: Real Life 

Page 19: Jim Carrey has written a fictionalized autobiography but he was too scared to confront his biggest demons -- Jim was not eager to tackle sensitive subjects like his bitter divorce from first wife Melissa Womer and the 2015 suicide of his ex-girlfriend Cathriona White, activists have demanded the removal of the Confederate flag across America but that’s not stopping an Illinois museum from proudly displaying a piece of television history emblazoned with it -- the last surviving 1969 Dodge Charger known as the General Lee used in the comedy classic Dukes of Hazzard 

Page 20: In a plot twist fit for one of his mystery thrillers novelist Dan Brown’s ex-wife Blythe claimed he lived a life of lies and charged he financed numerous secret affairs with their joint $178 million fortune, Julian Lennon is determined to get what he’s been denied by his stepmother Yoko Ono before she kicks the bucket -- Yoko is 87 year old and in a wheelchair and very ill plus she’s set to leave her son Sean Lennon who’s Julian’s half brother all of their father’s massive fortune -- Julian only wants what he thinks a son deserves and he pleading with Yoko to do the decent thing and give him a reasonable share 

Page 22: Health Watch 

Page 25: Denise Richards is so spooked by the coronavirus she refuses to do love scenes on The Bold and the Beautiful unless it’s with her husband -- she’s had her holistic healer husband Aaron Phypers added to the cast of the soap as a stand-in during intimate scenes, the Duke of Edinburgh has a shocking secret he’s hidden from the royal family for decades: he’s related to a busty pair of twin Playboy models -- Queen Elizabeth’s elderly husband Prince Philip was born into the Greek and Danish royal families but his wider familial ties extend to the U.S. which is home to Carla and Carmen Morrell

Page 26: Cover Story -- Heartsick Prince Harry trapped in living hell -- Meghan Markle’s demands leave him alone and miserable -- Harry feels lonely and directionless living in Meghan’s shadow as he struggles to find meaning in his life with a series of charity appearances designed to bolster the royal renegades’ image 

Page 28: Assistants Air Stars’ Dirty Laundry -- Britney Spears, Ariana Grande, Frank Sinatra 

Page 29: Ryan Gosling, Lady Gaga, Jennifer Aniston, Christian Bale 

Page 31: Miley Cyrus has donated over $1.6 million to help homeless teens and vulnerable families though her Happy Hippie Foundation 

Page 32: Dying Ethel Kennedy has secretly ponied up a $1 million bounty to find the killer of Connecticut teen Martha Moxley in a bid to prove the innocence of her troubled nephew Michael Skakel

Page 34: Lizzo’s secret half-brother Brandon Johnson desperately wants to end a family feud with the singer 

Page 36: Scandal-scarred Johnny Depp was forced to walk the plank and exit the blockbuster Pirates of the Caribbean film franchise and Guardians of the Galaxy bombshell Karen Gillan has been asked to helm the next Pirates voyage and is set to snag a massive amount of money for the starring role 

Page 38: Gavin Rossdale seems to be pining over ex-wife Gwen Stefani five years after their split admitting he still thinks she’s incredible, Hollywood Hookups -- Jennifer Grey and Clark Gregg split, Lily James and Chris Evans are on, Josh Brolin and third wife Kathryn Boyd are getting ready to welcome baby No. 2 

Page 42: Red Carpet Stars -- Margot Robbie 

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Jay Leno with his vintage Lincoln Continental 

Page 47: Odd List 

[amandaj718]

Emmerdale Live and Organized - November 8, 2017

Welcome to the preshow! Here is how I see fandom today!

Depending on what is happening in fandom I’m usually Rachel. *wink* 

Let’s crack on! 

Why is Ross leaving? He is doing a play that’s why. OH…um…right….something to do with Emma? Maybe? (squints)

I love all the strong writers and directors being used for this week. It explains why things have been moving nicely along.

The Bartons

Ross is running. That doesn’t make you guilty. Running.

No one is better off with Charity. Ross is out of his head!

Ten bucks on Pete and Rage, please!

The Mill

Oh geez, Aaron. It's not like the money Robert left you isn’t helping or anything.

Gerry is using food to get into Aarons good graces. Also, that was kind of funny.

I zoned out, but I was informed that Aaron mentioned the scrapyard. SOMEONE IS WORKING AT THE SCRAPYARD. WHAT??! *laughs*

Home Farm

The way they are doing Ryan makeup lately. Using shadows, making him look tired and drawn.  He always looks a bit messy.  He looks off. *sad face*

KATH! I love this person. She is just fascinating.

So, she is packing her hospital bag the day before they have her go into labor. Except she is early. Huh. I know you will be rubbish Rebecca. You are a rubbish person so…yeah.

That whole conversation with Chrissie and Rebecca. There was so much to dissect in there. SO MUCH. Alcohol mentions…again with Rebecca and alcohol. She is starting to push Robert away already. Like, well we went to all those birthing stuff and now I don’t think he is going to go. What? Really? That’s odd. It doesn’t fit into anything they have been setting up. Unless, I’m missing something. Please comment or tweet me your thoughts.

Also, brain teasers? Really. My mom told me what it’s like. You will be busy waiting but you will be sleeping, talking to doctors, family. Not doing brain teasers.

On a vain note, Who the hell dresses this woman? Those clothes are ugly. Also, that ugly shade of yellow again. Before everyone yells, ‘SHE IS PREGNANT’ there are stylish clothes for pregnant women. That is just wrong. *fashionista comment added*

The whiplash from The White Family hurts me so badly. Proof they are plot driven and nothing more. Why people are acting like they are more….is beyond me. I think some people want to see more because they are afraid of looking bad in public. I don’t. They suck. I can’t fucking wait till these plot sucking parasites are gone. Bring on Tom and his 50 Shades of Grey. He is at least interesting especially if that theory pans out.

First, she says she doesn’t want or need Robert around. Then she gets Victoria to do some of her dirty work (money for one) and then she wants to put Roberts name on the birth certificate.  Then she gets his attention and then decides he won’t be there for the birth and then wants more from him. PICK A LANE YOU YELLOW WEARING SHIPPER IRRITANT. I still don’t trust her. Something is wrong here.

The Pub Crew

Nicola having lunch with dad. Those two crack me up.

“It’s perfect for Faith. Cheap and vulgar.” – Nicola *BURN*

Eric is a mess and getting messier.

I love Faith’s coat. I want in my life now.

Eric needs to watch his mouth. Right now. When it comes to Faith.

CAIN! Look at you. Caring about things and people.

Eric’s House/Eric

I like how David is like, ‘what did you do?’ *Snort*

Oh no. Not Wishing Well!

HEY. HHHHEEEY. BACK OFF WISHING WELL. That place is full of love and heart.

Oh, Eric. He really does have feelings for Faith.

WHOA. SARAH. Not cool. He was protecting your family’s house.

CRAP. CRAP. CRAP. CRAP. The Dingles went too far.

The Kings/Rodney

We all have our knickknacks Nicola. *HA*

Jimmy! I love how protective he got over the lamp. Adorable! *I love Jimmy. Shoot me.*

“I can sniff out a villain as I can a bargain!” – Rodney *OH GOD*

THE SCRAPYARD

HE IS FUCKING WORKING. WHOOO KNEW!

Gerry is trying to win Aarons heart through food. Which is funny. I think that would work on Adam.

Gerry is joining the scrapyard crew. Filling Adams role. Interesting. I don’t think the scrapyard is going anywhere.

Moira’s Farm

Faith going in on Eric. *BUBBLE WRAP*

Oh woah. Faith. YOU CAN’T GO AFTER VAL. WARNING WARNING. BAD PLACE.

WISHING WELL IS SO IN TROUBLE NOW ISN’T IT?

‘It’s Just Speculation!’

Tomorrow and Friday are going to be rough episodes. Lots of emotions will be flowing, and not everyone will agree with each other. Everyone has the right to feel how they feel. Everyone has the right to hate it, love it or feel indifferent. Everyone is allowed their opinion. Let's go forward and watch together. I’m positive there will be great acting from Ryan and Danny and we will finally get this story moving. We have a lot to look forward to and I refuse to be completely negative about it. Let's see Emmerdale, “Pull the rabbit out of the hat” shall we? 

As per usual: Stay off the message boards, respect each other’s opinions, breathe, reboot and eat a Snickers. If you want to talk theory or the show come on over to my twitter and Tumblr @AmandaJ718

Until next time, see you around in Emmerdale! 

[jgfiles]

Arisaki Akira’s character profile (Joker Game Universe)

Arisaki Akira’s character profile (Joker Game Universe)

(Very tentative version as no translation for ‘Tsuiseki’ novel version had been released.)

Surname: Arisaki - 有崎 Name: Akira - 晃 Full Name: Arisaki Akira - 有崎 晃 Nationality: Japanese Lives in: Japan Appearances: Novel: Vol. 3 Chapter 3 “Pursuit” (追跡- Tsuiseki) Anime: EP. 12 “Pursuit” (追跡- Tsuiseki) Joker Game The Animation Manga: Chap 18, 19 “Pursuit” (追跡- Tsuiseki) Voice Actor: Childhood: Takamiya Saori - 高宮彩織（たかみや さおり）, Student days: Hino Satoshi - 日野 聡（ひの さとし）, Adolescence era: Horiuchi Ke n'yū - 堀内 賢雄（ほりうち けんゆう）

Brief introduction

Premise.

Yuuki used ‘Arisaki Akira’ as a trap for spies that were to try to investigate on him by teaching to his servant, Satomura, a fake past for him he would repeat to whoever were to ask about Arisaki Akira. This makes hard to know what of his past is true and what was forged by Yuuki.

Anyway, supposedly he was a child of 6, whom Viscount Arisaki Naoya carried to his home in Mejiro in 1896.

The child looked starved, dirty with poor clothes and hair ruffled and, apparently, people speculated the Viscount fathered him with a Geisha but, as soon as Akira started to live with the Arisaki, showed a fortitude and a noble air that caused people to think he was either the illegitimate son of a princess or of a Viscount’s army comrade.

Akira is never registered as part of Arisaki family, even if he’s allowed to carry the Arisaki’s surname.

He’s however given a rich education inclusive of many topics, English, French, German, Russian, Chinese, math, history, physics, chemistry, music and martial arts from tutors from different races from all over the world, showing an incredible aptitude for learning.

At 13 Akira applied to the Military Preparatory School at the Master’s behest and scored the highest grade of all the applicants. However he ends up being expelled due to him being attacked by three boys because, after he sent the three of them on the ground, one of them tried to attack him with a knife and Akira, counterattacked by tossing dirt in his eyes and kicking him in the balls, which was considered cowardly and therefore unfit of a soldier.

So in 1906 he moved to study abroad in England, with Captain Mansfield Cunning (one of the creators of the MI6) as his guardian and, possibly, was enrolled in the MI6 as well.

He returned in Japan in 1912 for Viscount Arisaki’s death, sold over the Viscount’s possessions as the Viscount wanted and gave the money to the servants, then, supposedly, left again for England.

This, at least, is the story Satomura first told to Aaron Price about Arisaki Akira.

Later though Satomura will say that Arisaki Akira actually served as a volunteer soldier in WW1 and during the Battle of Passchendaele was caught in a German gas bombardment, ended up in coma and was transferred to Japan, where the Army refused to pay for his medical help as he wasn’t an imperial soldier.

At this point a man (Yuuki) appeared and, claiming he was Arisaki Akira’s friend, he volunteered to pay for his medical expenses if Satomura were to never ask for his name and, should someone come to ask for Akira’s past, he were to tell him what that man taught him.

Always according to Satomura in 1940, Arisaki Akira is the still comatose man he’s showing to Aaron Price.

Again, as we know that Satomura is fundamentally working for Yuuki, we can’t know what of the tales he told Price is true and what isn’t.

Personality

According to the tale Satomura thought he had a fortitude that gave him a noble air, an incredible aptitude at learning and found that killing or getting killed was stupid.

Again we can’t know if this was true or not as we don’t know how much of Satomura’s story is true.

Physical appearance

In the anime, he has grey eyes and black hair (they’ll become grey when he’ll get older). When he first show up he looked completely starved, all skin and bones, with poor clothes and ruffled hair.

Later the Viscount had him have a bath and gave him elegant clothes, while his hair were combed.

At 13 he’s shown having a military haircut. We first see him with a dojo uniform and then with the Military school uniform.

Later he’ll come back for Viscount Arisaki’s funeral wearing a dark suit and looking like a fine gentleman which attracted women’s gazes.

Last we see him he’s in a hospital bed, wearing a kimono. He’s again all skin and bones and comatose, his hair now grey.

Relationships

Arisaki Naoya

According to Satomura Arisaki Naoya carried Akira home and raised him, making sure he had a perfect instruction, supported him when he inscribed to the Military school and when he was expelled likely continued to support him when he went to study abroad. We don’t know how Akira felt toward the Viscound but when the man died Akira came back and fulfilled the last wills of the Viscount.

Satomura

It’s hard to say which exactly is their relation because we don’t know if all we’re told is a lie or not. Still I think Satomura honestly cared and admired the young master and the boy was probably fond of him.

Aaron Price

Aaron Price thinks Arisaki Akira is Yuuki’s true identity and therefore investigates on him. It’ll turn out not only he was wrong but he will end up on seeing the man is lying comatose in a sanatorium, unaware of what is going around him.

Yuuki

Yuuki claimed he and Arisaki Akira were close friends in Europe… though it’s hard to say if it’s true or not as it could be he’s merely tricking Satomura as he wants to use Arisaki Akira as a trap for spies that were to investigate on him. Or, of course, Satomura himself might be lying. Anyway Yuuki is paying for the medical expenses of a comatose man called Arisaki Akira.

Abilities

According to Satomura he knows English, French, Russian, Chinese and German and he’s good at martial arts.

Trivia

It’s hard to say how much of what we learn about Arisaki Akira is true and what is not.

If Yuuki prepared this story in 1918, most of what we were told should be true as it would have been easy to control it, especially back then. We can’t be sure of this though.

In 1940 though the story becomes hard to check and it’s possible everything or most of it was made up.

[ma-jinnie-blog]

Polygamy - Be a Good Puppy

Genre: Smut, Slice of life, Bisexual and Polygamous Relationship

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: It’s a series with a switch bts boys. Multi relationship. If your not mature, don’t read it.

It was at least three days that I avoided the gazes of the boys. I was digging myself a grave by bringing them here. It was the worst idea that could ever come to mind. Luckily on the bright side, I was able to lock myself away in my massive study room. The ceilings are high and the endless shelves encased each wall behind my desks. Floor to ceiling windows that overlooked my back yard. A fireplace at the far wall cornering the door, with comfortable chairs and cotton blankets draping off the chair.

My desk was in the rear of the room but it was far into near the middle of the room, but I had three desk making a square for me to go in and set plot ideas on the right side and research on the left. My computer was in the center of the tables and it was the most cleanest. My study room was full of strange things and it was comfortable for those that wanted to research and learn of new things. It was almost like my library, but I hold comfort on a high standard. Towards the back of the room, was a separate smaller room. It was a candle lit room with a big couch that was almost the size of a bed. Incense everywhere to create an atmosphere that could get ideas sparking.

My newest book that I was writing is about a romance story where the woman goes through so much hardships just to stay with the person that she loves. She feels something more than love and even more than hate. However, the only problem was that I didn't have any idea of where to start. Perhaps if I watch a romantic movie, I will get some ideas. But no matter what I did, nothing came to mind.

My mind went in circles as I stared at my blank screen then out the window and back again. The only love that I have ever experienced was my first love. A black haired boy popped in my head, he was small and pale. His dark brown eyes looking at me and smiling a huge smile.

"Aaron..." I said softly and lifted my hand to touch his face, but he disappeared into thin air as if he was just haunting me and only showing a glimpse of himself to torment me. I dropped my hand and took a deep breath in. He was my precious puppy, someone that I wanted to protect and love and cherish for all of my life. But he slipped through my fingers...

Knock knock

I whipped my head up to stare at the door. I thought I told Robert to not disturb me when I am in my study room. Maybe he needs to tell me something. I cleared my throat and shouted in a loud voice, so the person would hear.

"Come in!" I shuffled my paperwork into an organized stack and cleared my desk to look presentable.

The door open slowly and there was a pause before the door closed. Their footsteps echoed loudly on the silent walls. When they stopped in front of my desk, I looked up and my eyes widen.

"You! What are you doing here?!" I yelled in surprised.

"I'm here to see how my lovely wife is doing." My fiance's arrogant voice stated. His face was indeed a handsome face, but I overlook face, if it meant your personality was bad as the bottom of dirty shoes. His smirk splayed across his strong jaw, his green eyes stared into my black ones as he put his hands on my desk and leaned forward.

"So, how are you doing, my dearest?" A prince charming smile crossed his face as his styled blond hair moved to tickle his cheekbone.

"Stop acting like you are a nice person." I clenched my jaw and crossed my arms. "We both know what you have done."

He let out a loud chuckle as he moved to sit his dirty man hoe butt on my clean desk.

"I should be the one telling you that. After what I saw on Thursday. I must admit, I have never been so-"

"Stupid as to walk into my room."

"I was going to say surprise." His never ending smile really annoyed me to no end as he reached forward to take a strand of my jet black hair into his fingertips.

"Get to the point or get out of my house." I slapped his hand away and pulled my serious face down.

"I wanted to come here to see how much you know." He leaned in and breathed into my ear. His cologne was overdone and it smelled horrible, unlike the freshness of my wonderful boy's scent. Perhaps I should buy them some nice smelling soap and scented lotion or maybe cologne.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stay focused on this bastard. I pushed him away and stood up. I didn't tower over him, since he was 6' 4" and I was only 5'8". Unlike my boys...

"Get out, right now." I said and pointed at the window to the front of the house. He let another chuckle as he took only two steps to fill the space and towered me, making me feel as if I was an ant. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled him close, to feel his member growing harder by the seconds.

"I wanted to know, just how much to do with all the tiny playthings, you surrounded yourself with." He leaned his head to breath on my collarbone. I struggled to get away from him, but his hand was like steel. "Do they make you feel so good that you want to fuck all the time." He softly whispered as his hand traveled in between my legs. I tighten my legs and refused to let him near me.

"Let go of me, you little piece of shit!" I struggled hard, flinging myself in every direction, just to get him off me. Just like that, the door open to see Hoseok staring at us in surprise. I heard my fiance click his tongue, letting me go. Which was a seriously bad move. I quickly grabbed his shoulders and kneed him in the nuts. Making him suck in his breath and grasped his hurt dick and balls. One the floor, I could see tears shed from his hateful eyes.

"That is what you get for harassing me." I stared him down and put my foot and pressed his injured dick. He yelled out in pain and tried to push my foot off. "You will never get my money, no matter if your sex style is better." I twisted my foot on him, "You are nothing to me and you will always be nothing." I growled and gave him another painful twist. Making him scream, as his nails dug into my ankle.

I smirked and enjoyed the view for a minute, before my eyes went to see Hoseok standing still like a statue. Fear in his eyes as he witnessed what unfolded in front of him. My smile faded and I lifted my foot. What have I done? I questioned myself. I put a hand to my mouth as I watched my fiance in pain, but I didn't really feel sympathy for this fool.

I quickly walked out of the room and past Hoseok. Grabbing his hand and dragging him along so he wouldn't see the horrible thing I did. I went to the ground floor and saw Robert setting some items to make it look better than before. I hated to ask Robert for help, but this was important.

"Robert, I need you to give Mr. Williamson a ride home. He has seem to injure himself on the corner of my desk. I believe he need to see a doctor." I spoke quickly, tugging Hoseok along with me to a private room. His room. Once I swung the door open, I let him go and locked the door.

Then I flung myself at him and knocked him over onto the bed, so I was on top looking down at him on all fours. His scent much more attractive than that fucker. I couldn't help myself when I leaned down to sniffed his chest to the tip of his jaw. He was intoxicating and I nearly got wet, just by his scent. He let out a long breath, but he struggled to move away from me.

"L-Liz?" he said and tried to move away, "Please don't do this."

"Do what?" I asked as I nibbled his jaw line and kiss it smoothly, trailing up to his lips. "I can't touch you?" I planted a kiss on his nose instead of his eagered lips. Kissing everywhere on his face, but his lips. "What do you want?" I asked finally and lingered over his face, looking deep into his dazed half open eyes.

He let out a small noise and blushed. Trying to avoid eye contact. I kiss his cheek, nuzzling his exposed neck to make him look at me. "Look at me and tell me." I bit his neck gently and licked his racing artery. "Let me know your deepest and darkest desires." I snaked my hand under his shirt. He shivered and tried to move his hands to mine to stop me. I immediately grabbed his hand and pin them over his head.

I gazed into his pleading ones to let him go. "Answer me, or would you rather let me torture it out of you?" I purred and sat on his throbbing member. I smiled at the his size and slowly rolled my hips over his member. He sucked his breath in and struggle to get away from me. "No matter how much you struggle." I grasped both of his wrist on top of each other with one hand. Letting my hand go under his shirt again, touching his hot abs. Tracing each ab to his chest. "You will always be here with me." I lifted his shirt completely to see his bare skin. His nipples perked as the cold air touched him.

I feasted my eyes on him, his golden tan skin was nothing like my fiance's horrid pale skin with visible blue veins everywhere. His face was shied away and tucked to his left shoulder and slightly under his shirt. His desireful eyes looked into mine, groaning softly under his breath as my hips continued at a slow pace. He-he is so hot! I felt a surge of excitement as I stared down at his masterpiece of a body.

"Please..." He softly whimpered. "don't do this..."

It shocked me so much that I stopped, making him realize what he said. We were smacked out of our heated session into reality. I looked at his body and then his regretful face. I softly said sorry under my breath and ran to my room. Slamming the door, mainly to wake myself. What did I just do? Why did I even go on and even torture him? I looked at my hand and shut my eyes to still see the image of his bare chest and flushed face, cock hard and his groans.

I realize what I done and ran my fingers through my long hair. I have to control myself, I have to or I will do something that I regret more than anything I have done. I sighed heavily and fell onto my bed. Thinking about Hoseok and his hot body, how desirable he was when he groaned softly and struggle. I swallowed and groaned softly to his groan. Dreaming that he was still here and I was still on him, doing much more.

I hadn't realize when my hand slid down me and into my pants. My fingers pressing against my wet panties. Hoseok made me so wet and left me to deal with myself. I wanted to see what it would look like with his mouth cucked onto me, tongue flicking everywhere. His groans vibrating throughout me, thrusting his tongue and wiggling it around.

I moaned loudly and lifted my hips as my finger entered, twisting and turning like I would imagine Hoseok's tongue would be like. Oh how much I wanted someone to help me finish. By now, it didn't matter. Just like that, I heard a moan, that wasn't like Hoseok's rough groan, but softer. My eyes flew open to look at my door. It was slightly open, I remember that I closed it.

I ran to the door, fingers still drench with my juice. There I saw the boy with broad shoulders sitting with his palm on his raging member trying to escape his tight pants. I was breathing hard as sweat beads began to form on my forehead and tickle its way down my forehead. A grin came across my face as I grabbed his hand and pulled him, shutting the door, and threw him on my bed.

Getting on top of him like I did to Hoseok, but this time I was grinding my hips against his member. He groaned and shut his eyes, leaning his head back into my bed. I moaned softly as I continued. Leaning down to kiss his neck and bit his collar bone.

"Ahh, what did you think you were doing, watching me like a peeping tom?" I growled softly as my hand slid over his broad chest and down to the hem of his shirt. I wanted to pull it off, but some part of me told me not to repeat the same mistake. With that in mine, I pulled away and looked at his red face as his hair was stuck to his forehead and messy. His plump lips parted, looking deadly attractive. His eyes focused on my face, as he brought his hand up to touch my cheek. A light brush over my cheek, sending shivers throughout my body.

"Elizabeth..." He tried to catch his breath, "don't stop." With that sentence he lit my fire in my heart as I grew excited at the words that slipped past his plump lips. I immediately took his shirt off to see his body unlike Hoseok's. He was has broad shoulders, which made his chest look big, his abs were there, but not as prominent as Hoseok's. He was thin, but he was very sexy in a feminine way.

I swallowed a lump in my throat, rushing to take my shirt off and bra. My curvaceous body made his jaw drop. He took in everything, his hand hand lightly touched down to my breast. The other hand did the same and stopped at my waist. I gasped softly and touched down his chest, exploring my hands over his smooth skin. Back up to his lips, putting my thumb to his lower lip. Leaning forward, I kissed him. He was taken by surprise as I kissed him and grazed my teeth over his lips, biting it softly. Making him let out the loudest moan, as my hand went to his nipples. Pinching them softly and overwhelming him with my kisses.

"Take your pants off." I commanded as I leaned back to stand.

He hesitated as he saw me watching him. His hair tousled, he didn't get to undress, before I leaned in.

"Be a good pup and serve your mistress." I whispered softly into his ear. He softly groaned as he did as he was told. Only his tight underwear was stuck to him and his cock throbbing. Satisfied with this view, I pulled my pants off, leaving us both in our underwear. I grinned and walked to the side and got onto the bed. Pulling him back down and pecked his lips.

"Put these beautiful lips to good use, Pup." I smiled sweetly and crawled over him, where I linger over him. My eyes glued to his member as it twitched, undoubtedly at the sight of my wet panties.

"Lick me clean..." I slurred my words softly, as I lowered my hips to right above his face. Feeling his breath on the inside of my thighs. I pulled his off as his cock flung out all hard. His dick was not like what you see in most porn, but he had a really delicious cock as he was oozing pre cum out. I touch the tip and collected the hot cum onto my fingers. He groaned as he immediately pulled my panties aside and attached his holy plump lips to my pussy.

"Ahhh, shit..." I moaned softly and moved my hips to his tongue, riding his face. I tried to stay focus as I licked his bitter cum. Even though it was bitter and not sweet, it was overwhelming intoxicating. I licked my lips like a hungry child and put his tip into my mouth. His moaned vibrated throughout me and it made me even more wet. His tongue slid right into me, and just like in my imagination, he twisted and turned his tongue, lapping up all of my juice like a good puppy he was.

I honestly thought I was going to finish right there, being that I haven't been with a boy like this. I moaned again and began to kiss his tip softly, his eager member was twitching at my small contacts. How pretty it was to see him twitching, I thought at how good he was doing and brought his cock deep into my throat.

This time he parted from me and moaned as his hips lifted up into my throat. Feeling his member twitching much more than usual. I laid my hips down on him again to make him to keep going. I continued to wrap my tongue around his member as he worked his tongue much faster. To the point I was beginning to shake and quiver as I had reached my climax. Reaching down to slip a finger in his ass, pressing up against his tight wall, tighten my grin on him and jerked him off. He came within seconds as his hips thrusted into my hand. His moan so loud it echoed throughout the room.

I breathed heavily, as I empty him and rolled off of him. We laid side by side, trying to catch our breaths. I looked over to him and saw him glistening with sweat and his blushed face rising a falling. I noticed that I had cum n my chest and wiped it and put it in front of his lips. He looked at it, then at me.

I urged him with a nod and he opened his lips to let my fingers in and allowed him to clean them. I smiled and slipped my finger out to kiss him, my tongue exploring what I tasted like and him mixed together. My mouth watered and I grinned as his hand reached down my body.

"Ah ah ah." I sang softly. "Be a good puppy."

This is an upload of my Wattpad story which you can read at

https://www.wattpad.com/story/112339283-polygamy

[dealoutthejack-blog]

lack of takings. self para

TAGGING: Jackson Hammond & NPCs

TIMEFRAME: Friday, April 7th. Evening

NOTES: Being the favourite is hard as hell and often has some pretty extreme consequences.

WARNINGS: Mentions of drugs, Assault, Violence

“You’ve been down on takings.”

Jack sighed and as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, eyes scanning the floor to try and find his jeans. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and go to bed. He’d spent the majority of the day running around like a headless chicken because for some reason today was the only day that all of his regulars were free.

He was supposed to just drop the cut in and then go home. That was his plan. That was what he wanted to do.

That wasn’t what happened.

Fucking his boss wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been cutting down on it recently because of a certain idiot that he really shouldn’t be thinking about whilst still naked in bed with this guy.

“You’re fucking great at pillow talk, like honestly,” he told him with a sigh as he stretched his arms above his head, wincing as he heard the bones cracking, “You beat the shit out of me for giving out freebies which brought in more customers, of course the incline isn’t gonna carry on.”

He was getting irrationally pissed off because the real reason that he hadn’t been pulling in new customers was because he wasn’t allowed to use old tactics. How the fuck was he supposed to bring in new people? He could see a ridiculous amount of parties appearing in the future just to increase the cut that Aaron got. He was turning into such an old man with how much he complained about having to go out, though parties were never as fun when he was forced to work them because it meant that he couldn’t randomly disappear and he couldn’t get too smashed himself in case someone wanted something more and he had to be able to count the money and the amount that was given.

Oh. There were his clothes. Right. Now he could escape this whole awkward situation with little care in the world.

“Jackson, I’m not berating, Jesus, I’m just pointing it out. You know the others already have issues with you playing- being favourite around here. Don’t need to give them anymore reason to be dicks.”

“Well maybe you should start fucking them as well, how about that?”

Being a brat wasn’t going to help him here but the other dealers pissed him off to the point where just thinking about them. He stood from the bed and started to get dressed. He just wanted to go home now. That was all he wanted. That was what he was going to do. They could discuss this whole issue later on when he could actually be bothered to hold a conversation for longer than two minutes because this was clearly a subject that he wasn’t going to drop. Of course he wasn’t going to drop it, it was about being given less money even though he was giving up the goods, and Aaron was greedier than he was so it was clearly more of an issue for him.

“I need to go home. I’m shattered,” he told him, refusing to allow any amount of time where he could start an argument. It wasn’t worth it, plus it was dark, late and it was dangerous enough walking home at this point.

Jack hadn’t ever moved as quick as he did when he was getting dress, grabbing his coat and bag before leaving the dingy little house. The quicker he got home the better and he was mentally screaming at himself for not bringing his car. He was the laziest person going so why the fuck would he walk there? Probably because it was a twenty minute walk but it was a stupidly long drive because of one way roads and other traffic issues.

He just needed to get through the shadier areas and he’d be fine.

Except he wasn’t quick and it definitely wasn’t fine.

There had been that uneasy feeling in his gut since he left Aaron’s. He was definitely being followed and he was definitely not safe. It made him walk quicker, to the point where he was almost one hundred percent sure that he was going to be home safe.

He wasn’t.

Two sets of hands wrapped around his arms and tugged him down a nearby alley. Why did all of the dirty places have alleys?  All he could do was struggle and fight against the grip of the strangers.

There were some mumbles, something about “hating being second best”.

He knew that voice. He remembered that voice from his last beating and that thought alone was enough to make his blood run cold.

Every bit of force he had went into breaking free but it wasn’t enough. He had expected something to happen but he didn’t expect to be jumped. A beating like before, fair enough, but this clearly wasn’t that.

There was something much more sinister about this, something much more dangerous.

“You deserve this.”

That was all he heard before there was a quick movement of an arm and a piercing pain engulfing any cognitive thought. There was a ripping feeling as whatever had been driven into his gut was removed only to be pushed in again a few inches across.

He refused to cry out, refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

Soon the hands were leaving him and he was dropping down to his knees, the pain stopping any chance of him being able to hold himself up. A swift punch to the face was forcing him completely to the floor, covering him in the dirt from the ground.

It was only when he was sure that they’d left that he finally let out the cry that had been dying to burst out of him.

Dying.

What a funny word to use

Considering that’s exactly what he was doing.