#also i am a little out of practice because i haven’t drawn much over the span of me being gone but

[spxtse]

hello tumblr dot com i am back and went through another hyperfixation since i was last here. here is some of the art from it that i did not post because for some reason i stopped posting here even though it used to be my favourite platform to post art on

[xaharadesert]

Greetings! I'm rereading your headcanons for the Arcana, and they're all very well-written and interesting. I wonder, do you have any ideas about how MC and Asra grew close and started a romantic relationship before the plague? No pressure if you don't feel like answering.

Hello!! I’m so glad you enjoy my headcanons :) even if I don’t write as much as I used to, I’m proud of my work. Based on your message, I wasn’t sure if you were asking for headcanons or just my thoughts, so I’m going with the latter, but feel free to submit another request if it was actually the first one!

So, as usual, I’m gonna add a little disclaimer stating that I haven’t played the game in a very long time, and can’t really remember what’s canon vs fanon, so forgive me if I say something that’s just blatantly wrong. Also, I’m referring to Asra using he/him just to differentiate them from the MC, who I’m referring to with they/them, and I am aware that Asra uses he/they.

Anyway, the game itself gives us very little to work with in terms of MC’s backstory with Asra (obviously so people can fill it in how they please), but I do believe that it’s canon that the shop used to belong to MC’s aunt?

In my mind, I always imagined that MC’s aunt was a semi-well-known magic user, and MC left their home to study with her and learn magic and such. They probably worked at the shop as well, since they lived there and it would be a bit rude not to help out.

Now, this is where I’m essentially just making things up: I believe that Asra and MC bumped into each other a lot without ever really having a proper introduction in the first few months. I’m not sure if there’s any indication about what Asra was doing after his parents disappeared, but I’m like 90% certain he was just homeless and making money by running errands or doing tricks/small spells/tarot readings for people. So, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that they casually saw each other around when MC was exploring or running errands for their aunt.

When it comes to a proper introduction, my mind is split between a cliché meet-cute where they literally run into each other, a curious MC seeking out Asra because they think he’s mysterious and therefore must find answers, or MC’s aunt hiring Asra as part-time help. Either way, it definitely starts as a casual friendship between two magic users who feel a little out of place, with Asra absolutely working at or spending a lot of time at the shop.

Over time, I think the two would naturally grow closer as they harness their magical abilities together. Asra has found a place that feels like home, and MC has found their first close friend in a new country. I think it would be a little co-dependent from the start, given Asra’s unfortunate circumstances, and MC becoming the owner of their aunt’s shop (it’s never confirmed, but personally I believe that the aunt died and left a young mc to take over).

At some point, after the aunt was gone, Asra would move into the shop (it’s practical, even if it’s only platonic, since he works there and MC is probably a little lonely), and while things might not be completely romantic, feelings are probably developing. I always imagined MC and Asra to be around the same age, so they’re probably young adults at this point, and still figuring things out, but they know that they want to be together in some way.

I don’t think there’s a clear line that can be drawn between “before” they loved each other romantically and “after”. Like, yeah, there’s a first kiss, but it doesn’t feel like a giant momentous moment, it’s just a casual action that feels completely natural. Neither of them probably even process it as the first time, and wouldn’t remember it later, because it just fits. And if you’re thinking about the first “I love you”, then I hate to disappoint, but I believe they always said it platonically, so neither really registers when it becomes romantic.

At least in my opinion, Asra and MC are the ultimate best friends to lovers, and it happens like a frog in a boiling pot of water. They don’t even realize that they’re in a committed relationship until MC dies and Asra finds them back at square one. Then he’s like “oh fuck how do I recreate 6 years when I don’t even know how it happened?” Falling in love and being with each other every day was as natural to them as breathing, and having that relationship stripped away suddenly must have felt like being dropped into ice water.

Anyway, those are my basic thoughts! Not very detailed, because, really, there is no canon backstory! This isn’t even what I use for my OC MC, it’s just the vibes I picked up when I first played through :) let me know what you think, and what you would change! Also please let me know if there are any mistakes, because I typed this all out on my phone at 1am and just kinda rambled without thinking

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

because i am sad, don't have my nina meds and have the personality of tissue paper rn, will you take pity on me, pretty girl, and pray tell what the locations look like in ur fics? like how you imagine south park looks, maybe stan and kyle's old bed rooms, the sp survivor haus? starks pond, the vibes and stuff -- you can be as hyper specific as you want i really like detail and visualizing things <3 also you

Melda Tâe I sincerely hope this is a bright spot in the Sadsack!!! This is such a great ask too like what does the HWB elven palace look like? The train station in WGSIES? The Broken Bottle Quartet apt complex? Heidi’s coffee shop in ATLCTS? The bistro where ojv Craig and Kyle have Nerd Boy Time? The TWITR bunkhouse?

And I’ve said on multiple occasions that I suck an unfathomable amount of ass at actually putting setting descriptions into my fics. Not because I’m picturing scenes playing out in a blank void, or bc I’m not picturing things clearly, but 1) I fully convince myself that no one wants to read my boring drawn out descriptions, which is stupid and I’m aware of that bc I LOVEEEEE vivid imagery when I’m reading 2) I often forget that no one is envisioning what I am without visual explanations lmfao it’s just so There to me I forget my readers don’t live in my cursed brain 3) I have such a habit of getting too into Witty Banter™️ and I’ll write so much dialogue with the occasional action and realize I haven’t said shit about what the setting looks like

But boy oh boy do I have specific pictures in mind! Especially regarding settings. (God I need to make a fuckin Pinterest omg the OJV board alone would go stupid)

I’m gonna be so fuckin fr right now, I have way too many AU’s and I will be unhinged abt a lot of them, so, below the cut!

So, as a surprise to absolutely no one, I’m starting with the OrangeJuiceVerse!

That bizarre town our kids grew up in is very typical suburbia, with neatly arranged near identical houses and blacktop roads that the snow plow goes through the same time every morning. Downtown holds the major businesses and across the tracks, not even a block over from the main neighborhoods, is the handful of “ghetto” houses, right by the woods. And through those woods, with a small single lane street that is far too narrow and winding to be safe? Stark’s Pond. The clearing in the tree canopy that the parking lot provides is the best stargazing spot, far enough away from the minimal light pollution that a tiny mountain town emits. It’s not just a pond, more of a park, with a field next to the water that’s a well traversed snowball fight battleground and a single bench under an ancient oak tree. The pond freezes and that’s how you know winter is truly underway. Kids slipping and sliding on the ice with no adult supervision is the standard here. In the summer, the water is still so cold, fed by mountain runoff. The surrounding shore is rocky and the m5 regularly compete to see who can find the coolest stone in the gravel.

There’s an elementary school, middle school, and high school, all in the same block and sharing a parking lot. Makes it easy for bus drivers and parents dropping off their kids. The high school is WAY bigger than is warranted for how small the town is, and there’s a separate building for band and av club. The football “stadium” isn’t much, the bleachers are only a few rows high and the field house is little more than a locker room, the concession stand is tiny and only run by student council members, and the cow painted into the turf over the 50 yrd line is lopsided. The gym where pep rallies and volleyball and basketball games are held has better seating, but football is a big damn deal in sp and the whole town is crowded around the track fence if they don’t get a seat, cheering on the hometown boys on cold October nights with nothing but fireball and ridiculous amounts of school spirit in their systems.

Stan and Kyle practically live at each others houses growing up. They each have a “Super Best Sleepover Drawer” in the others rooms and when they were younger and still the same size? No one could tell who actually owned what clothing. Like, y’all dear god you are more intertwined than your fingers holding hands. Stan’s room is a messsssss! Especially when he’s not doing well mentally. And he holds on to every stray item so his dusty shelves are cluttered as hell. His pillows are flat as shit. Nothing in his closet has been folded properly in years. The only organized thing in that room is the record collection, the sheet music folder, and the dnd character breakdown. Kyle has stress cleaned Stan’s room before. And (think You Belong With Me music video) THEIR WINDOWS FACE EACH OTHER!!! Kyle’s room has so much of the same kind of decor as Stan’s, with the posters and the figurines and the wall of nostalgic Polaroids, but he’s so much more organized. Both the boys have Kenny Paintings, (Stan is the one mentioned in this and Kyle’s is one of him as the elf king when they’d play as youngsters) and Kyle’s is hung level on the wall and Stan has his propped on his desk.

Ohhhh man the SP Survivor Safehouse, I described it some here and it really is such a College Kid House!!! They found the cheapest place to rent close to campus that would fit the 5, and it’s a SHITHOLE! It’s old as fuck and falling apart, the foundation is crooked, the blueprint must’ve been drawn by someone with severe distraction problems because for a place that’s not all that big, it’s labyrinthine in its random layout and the out of place way too high to reach ledges and the fireplace but no chimney and the ridiculousness of the narrow backyard, doing laundry in that house is a NIGHTMARE like the washer is downstairs and the dryer is in a separate room upstairs that logistically should be a bathroom. The kitchen tile is so old and cracked, and there’s this weird half wall facing the living room with a window? Also the walls are thin as hell and that staircase? Good god. Steep as fuck, tilted to the left, no railing, everyone has fallen on the Widowmakers multiple times. The garage door doesn’t work. The water heater is older than god. But this is their house, and they make it work.

I also want to describe the waterfall from How We Began, as specific and random as that is lmao. Think Multinoma Falls in Oregon, with a long trail to the top and no man made bridge over it. And it freezes like that one waterfall in narnia. Completely solid, snow and frosted trees on both sides at the summit, just the perfect place to meditate and reflect, because the reflection off the ice is like a rippled mirror. (Actually and so fr I need art of chapter 12 so bad rip) that place is BEAUTIFUL with the mountains in the background, the icicles refracting light, pine trees with needles dusted with snow, large rocks overlooking the edge of the cliff and the forest surrounding it!!!

Oh damn also the Big House in The Webs In The Rafters is the most eerie looking house of all time. At the end of that twisting gravel drive, to the left of the western pasture, sits this giant black mansion. It looks wayyyy too gothic to be on a ranch. And most of the rooms are unused, that place feels cold and dark even when the farmhands are in for dinner at that huge table in the dining room. The upstairs office has all these strange carvings in the wooden walls, Craig’s massive granite desk is right in front of the window that sees the whole front part of the land. And both that house and the bunkhouse are ancient as the “haven” itself. The walls have crawlspaces big enough for a full grown person to fit in. Like there’s a maze in the walls. The upper pasture isn’t visible from the master bedroom at the back of the top floor, and there’s a tree by the pond that Butters’ ducks live in that’s the first thing the morning light touches. That spot, where Ken and butters had their first kiss in chapter 16, is the only place that doesn’t feel stifling on the entire land.

Dude the haunted house in In The Truly Gruesome! It is legit the most cheesy haunted house of all time, set up in what is essentially a double wide trailer, no bathroom, no kitchen, barely a tiny breakroom at the back, the decor is the cheapest spirit Halloween shit imaginable and just lame shit like a bowl of peeled grapes that are supposed to feel like eyeballs in the mad scientist area. That front office with its plywood walls and plastic door is the most unromantic setting for a love confession, but Stan and Kyle made it work. The breakroom “furniture” is a random hodgepodge of booths from a closed McDonald’s and tables someone found on the side of the street. The mini fridge has nothing in there but a moldy jar of pizza sauce and a single half drank mellow yellow. This place is absurd. I love it.

AND I loved this ask! You always send me such great things my beloved omg never stop! <3

[bvannn]

Weekly Update January 5, 2024

I’m still recovering slowly. I never mentioned this because I want to be as vague as I can about my big congenital medical issue, but the surgery last week removed some tissue that affects my endocrine system, and now that it’s gone I’m having some problems with my mood. I have a medicine that corrects it, but I need to wait another week and a half to get my dosage adjusted, so all next week I’m going to be volatile which sucks. Stomach has seemingly gotten better though so hopefully that pain was just caused by those cysts and nothing else was wrong. Sorry if I ramble on a bit too much tonight, I am loopy because of the endocrine stuff so I might go on too long. Anyway artstuffs.

I got a music project done. It was for Mav, and it was pretty small but I stayed up all night working on it. Working on it I discovered a big set of plugins that I got somewhere that look to be automatically doing some of that balancing I was worried about. I still need to double check what exactly it can do, since I’d like a widener plugin, but I don’t want to stack my brain over it if I already have one. I have a few ideas floating around for the next song thing, I’m a bit hesitant on continuing that vocal one I haven’t finished because I watched a bunch of videos today in the bad lyrics of the Wish soundtrack, and the lady kept bringing up cadence and pentameter which are concepts I know about but can’t hear. Like, pentameter is supposed to be the natural inflection a syllable has, but like whenever I hear it, I just hear the inflection of the vocalist. I think I’m overthinking it, since she used a writing scheme to explain it and I think the vocaloid software uses that same writing scheme so maybe I can learn through practice? Or I can just write lyrics that match the melody and call it good as long as the flow sounds natural because of subconscious understanding, like how I figured out how to do harmonies. Whatever. Music theory is hard but my stupid will and brute force is harder.

Other instrumental things I’ve been kinda thinking about include a little Zelda medley that I already recorded the melodies and stuff for, instrumental themes for my OCs because of course. And then I kinda want to just do a big fat medley that goes on for like an hour-ish because I love those kinds of medleys they’re great for car rides and stuff. And the final two I’m thinking about would be for animation memes: either an arcade beat-em-up style boss fight sounding theme, or a cover of a 90s pop-punk-rock (idk what genre) song. I think that one would be cool because I could use it as promotional stuff for a comic.

Oh yeah that O’Malley comic! I actually did good thumbnail work on that this week! I was going to do more today but mood and sleep schedule were wonky, plus I had a meeting this morning, so good chance I’ll put it off until tomorrow. But either way, chipping away at it, trying to watch more movies so I can get better at understanding shot comp, watched Kill Bill part 1 last night and wasn’t expecting it to be like, the best fucking movie ever? Like why does everyone talk about it like ‘eh it’s pretty good’ like no that shit was *Phenomenal*! Hoping part 2 lives up to the first, planning to watch it maybe tomorrow night? Definitely before I go back to uni. Anyway pitch comic is coming along nice, after it’s drawn I can either work on the rest of that story or a pitch for the secondary story I’ve been working on, depending on demand. Right now leaning towards series, since I have general synopsies for a couple more general ‘episodes’.

Also only done like one general drawing for comsheet practice hehehe it’s fine I can try others as time comes and is appropriate. Also did epithet stuff but not as much as I’d like. My original plan tonight was to work on TTRPG stuff but maybe I’ll do writing or thumbnailing instead. Or maybe both.

TRGA: got shot 1-4 done enough. Also got Jon tweened for 1-5. I need to clean him up and do his face and stuff. Tonight maybe if I’m having trouble focusing on the other stuff I’ll clean him up, I think I want to go back to that ‘one significant development a day’ schedule I was on for a bit, but pushed a bit further since I have better strategies now. I’ve also started the ‘every time I sit down and open clip studio I’m going to draw one (1) prop’ strategy so hopefully props won’t be as bad in the future either (even the ones I can’t just recycle). Tomorrow if I’m doing better I’ll try to get 1-5 Jon’s face done (and clean him up too if I don’t tonight) and maybe do another drawing. Maybe more epithet TTRPG stuff maybe not.

I’m trying to get my priorities back in order. 1) TRGA 2) Comic work 3) fix your commissions 4) other projects. Inspiration is fickle though so I’m really all over the place. My mood being volatilized is also not helping but I’ll keep going until my brain explodes. For now I’m able to plan out enough with time for sleep and stuff. I don’t know what’s exactly going to happen when classes start but I am taking *fewer* credits than normal so theoretically that means more time.

[edenatday]

So as someone who wants to start with art but also likely has aphantasia do you have any tips for how I could go about drawing something I can't get a reference for?

For example: I wanna draw one of my characters but I cannot for the life of me get anything visual about them onto the screen so I have no reference to go off of, and with no reference I cannot figure out how it properly looks. Might you have any solution for this or atleast know of anywhere I could go to find some?

Oh gosh I appreciate the ask! I wish I had some expert advice but I’ve literally only just figured out I have aphantasia about two days ago lol! So this is poured out of my brain from being an artist for 30 years and my own common sense - you can decide whether it can be trusted haha and sorry it’s not a quick fix either.

The approach that comes to mind is to start building a library of your own so you can start self referencing. But that means initially letting go of that specific idea you have that you can’t find a reference for.

My suggestions are…

Find any pose with a similar body build to your character and use them to sketch your oc so you can practice drawing them in different ways. Then find poses you like regardless of the shape and try “mapping” your oc to that pose. (Such as picking a slim figure and using it as a frame to draw your muscly oc) you’ll be able to fit your oc to any reference, so it’s less vital to find such a specific reference. Don’t be too attached to the concept you’re after you have so you can explore. Looking for one specific reference can be a block, and also not much fun.

In terms of other references to enhance a character, I’d probably start a Pinterest board with outfits and accessories and do lots of little quick studies of them to slowly add more complexity & details. I’ve definitely made the mistake of trying to do all the things all at once and over complicating a lot without doing this kind of work! Start simple and build. I think this is key. Think of it like a puzzle, we have to build all the pieces individually outside our brain bc we can’t put it together on the inside. And like in a game we don’t get all the best weapons and armour at the start, you can upgrade over time.

Having to externalise the visual building blocks others are able to do in their heads, means we have our work cut out for us. But I think there are ways to make it fun and interesting. If they’re a knight, what do they look like commuting to work on a bus reading the newspaper? If they’re a old granny, what do they look like performing the high jump? This will give you an exciting visual library all of your own, you can then start to reference your own work!

Aim to have a toolbox of poses, activities, outfits, scenes etc. Those can be Frankenstein-ed with new external references to develop your work. So it becomes less vital to find that one reference, and more about learning how to build the blocks of your oc through exploration and familiarity.

I haven’t got around to it yet, but I’ve got a list of aphansasia artists to study. Glen Keane is the illustrator for The Little Mermaid. If he can create such an iconic character, so can we! I want to learn from his other aphantasia artists, so I suggest doing the same.

Most of my art is drawn from life or I make my own references specifically to paint from photos, I do a lot of portraits for example. So for me it explains why I’ve longed to do character design or fan art and just been so pants at it and it felt so hard I got 0 reward and gave up. I always return to realism, it doesn’t rely on my inability to internally visualise. Now I know about aphansasia, I can change my approach entirely maybe I’ll attempt some fan art again :)

I’m literally pulling this out of my head off the cuff. So I’d love to know if any other aphansasia artists have similar or better methods they can add to this, this because I am learning anew too.

Any feedback welcome, let’s work this out together :)

[hismercytomyjustice]

OCD is so fucking sneaky sometimes. I s2g.

Wildly long personal post below.

Had a moment where my brain was like, “But would it be checking or reassurance seeking if you compiled google docs of all of your fave fic authors’ works so you can easily search them whenever you’re worried about an idea for a plot point or wording you have might have been accidentally subconsciously drawn from one of them?”

And I’m just sitting there like, “Wow! Great idea! It’d take a bit of work up front, but then I could be like 95% certain I haven’t done that because I’d be able to check and reassurance seek at scale! The real problem is spending hours doing it, right?”

*looks over to mental manifestation of their therapist who is vehemently shaking her head*

∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ? “..…no..? Goddammit.”

My therapist was asking me the other day how I knew this was an OCD spiral and I told her it was because of how much real estate this whole thing has been taking up in my noggin, in addition to the realization I was engaging in checking/reassurance seeking and it wasn’t actually doing anything to make me feel better.

SIIIIIIIGH.

Fucking HATE IT. It would be SO FUCKING EASY to spend hours creating my own personal anxiety relieving database. I LOVE doing shit like that! It would probably make me feel better for a little bit too!

“But that is unhinged behavior! Normal People™ don’t do that… Right..?”

*looks over to mental manifestation of their therapist who is vehemently nodding her head*

(≖_≖ ) “Goddammit.”

NICE TRY, BITCH. WE ARE NOT WILLINGLY LAPSING!

BUT. Lol. My therapist suggested I might need to get on a medication more specific for OCD. The SSRI I’m currently on works for OCD, but isn’t geared specifically to it. She was like “You’ve been having a lot of ruminating thoughts lately.”

She also suggested meeting with a straight up psychiatrist mainly regarding managing my meds since I have competing conditions like OCD and ADHD. ADHD meds can actually exacerbate OCD. My doctor actually wanted me to do this too, but the one associated with their practice doesn’t take my insurance. Y’know, the great USA, land of the free! Unless it involves medical care, trans rights, protecting folks from racism, etc etc etc…

She also suggested an autism life coach to me. My therapist has been pretty outspoken she thinks I have it even tho I didn’t officially get diagnosed. But apparently this lady she recommended specializes in helping folks with day-to-day stuff like routines and work and all to help them navigate all that and ngl I am desperate need of that kind of help.

So I have some folks to contact now. And hopefully they’ll be able to help me further pull myself out of this burnout rut I’ve fallen into.

I was researching autistic burnout the other day because I was just like “is this regular burnout or could it be autistic burnout, what’s the difference” and most stuff seemed to point to “it’s likely autistic burnout if your executive function is severely impacted to the point you’re struggling to take care of your basic needs” and I’m just like… ( . _ . )""

Another super fun OCD spiral I’ve had lately is “I’m 95% sure I’m autistic even though I didn’t get the official diagnosis, but I would be a terrible fucking person if the 5% was actually correct and I was co-opting autism.”

It took three therapists weighing in on my evaluation for them to decide whether or not I have it. The ones who met with me were both pretty confident I have it and said as much to each other (my therapist and my evaluator who contacted her to discuss further). And the one who got the final say (my evaluator’s supervisor, as she’s newly accredited) never even met me, so…

It took MONTHS to get my results back specifically because of the autism question too. Right after my ADHD evaluation, the evaluator was just like “you def have ADHD, but I’m not sure about the autism. We’ll schedule follow ups on that.” She sent me a bunch of questionnaires and also sent them to my husband, she spoke with my current therapist, and she did an autism interview (?) with me.

Whenever I do questionnaires about masking/camouflaging I am always off the charts. But most of the interview questions, I felt like didn’t really pertain to me? It all felt like it was specifically geared toward folks with more intense symptoms/manifestations of autism? Idk if that’s the right terminology. More “stereotypical” symptoms? Idk.

I’m pretty sure I would’ve gotten the diagnosis if I’d done it as a teenager tho. I feel I had more “stereotypical” symptoms then. Lol got told I was “weird/creepy” a few times and genuinely struggled to know how to do shit like small talk and all so I just wouldn’t!

But then I started working in customer service in college, where my manager at the time told me I needed to “smile and make small talk” with folks, so I started doing that. Do most folks get told they need to do that kind of thing? Is it innate?

BUT, I’m REALLY FUCKING GOOD at small talk now! This is not an exaggeration either! Multiple people I know have commented on how bizarre it is how total strangers will approach me and just abruptly tell me their life story??? I mean I guess that’s not small talk, but still! I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m overcompensating now during social interactions.

Just constantly have a running dialogue in my head of “make eye contact, smile, make sure you’re listening, nod/make sounds to show you’re listening, think about what questions to ask them next based on what they tell you, remember things they’ve expressed an interest in before and come up with questions/topics that lean into that.”

I don’t do that before interactions tho. But I do it in the moment? So does that count as scripting..? IDK! Is that Normal Person™ behavior? NO FUCKING CLUE!

I also can take fucking DAYS to recover from more involved social interactions!

The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was that I was showing very clear autistic traits with some work shit I was dealing with at the time. The problem was management was being super vague about what they wanted and I kept asking for clarification and not meeting their nebulous expectations to the point they finally had to spell them out.

GUESS FUCKING WHAT! The second they finally took the time to clarify this shit, I was suddenly a model employee! It’s almost like I wasn’t the problem in the first place! AMAZING! But no one else on the team (that I know of) struggled with this ambiguity. And the evaluator’s supervisor was like “yeah, that def looks like autism, but I’m not seeing enough autism in other areas of their life.”

So. Yeah. I’m left in OCD spiral land of “Do I have autism or is the OCD/ADHD I have been officially diagnosed with just really fucking good at emulating it?” Because there is a TON of fucking overlap between the three.

I also scored in the 84 percentile for the IQ test and the 96 percentile for Verbal Comprehension, which I think def played a role in terms of not fitting the “stereotype” in regard to autism. I know IQ tests and shit are inherently flawed, but I feel like there’s a major stereotype for autism in regard to speaking/vocabulary and being able to articulate things. The “problem” for me in this regard is I’m a fucking English major and have always been obsessed with shit like reading, critical thinking, etc. My entire degree is in “being able to communicate, articulate your pov in a way others understand, and reading between the lines” super well. I got a fucking 4.0 in my major.

Lord this wound up being insanely long. Oh, fucking well. Just feeling a bit frustrated yet also proud of myself? Frustrated about the OCD/ruminations, but proud of NOT creating a personal database to satisfy my OCD.

Even though I am STILL wildly concerned about the possibility of plagiarizing. And am still not entirely convinced I haven’t somehow.

BUT I AM NOT COMPULSING. So. Small win???

…god I hate living with the uncertainty…it will eventually go away, but I want it to go away NOW!

[deerblossoms]

it is august and i’m 20 and i think this is the emptiest i’ve felt in years. it’s crazy because objectively my life is SO much better than it once was. i should be ecstatic every day and i don’t think i care really. i got on wellbutrin and was taking that with the lexapro until they ran out and then when i went to refill them they only gave me the wellbutrin. apparently my lexapro prescription was cancelled? i haven’t had the motivation to message my provider and honestly haven’t even had the motivation to take my meds at all. probably has something to do with the emptiness! but i dread it because now that i’m not consistently on wellbutrin, whenever i take one i seem to get suicidal and have a little freakout. could be coincidence but i’m not enjoying it! my life’s had so many ups and downs over the past few months. jo and i broke up, not mutually on their part but it had to be done. i’ve thought about it so many times and i don’t think there’s anything that could’ve been done differently. i think the turning point was december when we hooked up for the first time and after that we were just fated for this. anyway, it would have happened eventually. frankly if it hadn’t, i don’t think i’d know as much about myself as i do now but i hate that jo ended up being my fucking guinea pig for self discovery. besides, what i discovered is that i really am an ass. commitment issues, not very ethical in my non-monogamy, deeply avoidant, anger issues up the wazoo, completely non-communicative, etc. kayla and i are still seeing each other and have at least talked about WHY we’re not going to call it dating. and we’re not going to call it dating! largely because i’m a complete dick who it would be unwise to officially commit to.

i hooked up with my friend recently and then got later propositioned for a threesome by said person with our mutual friend. not exactly the life i expected for myself if i’m being honest! not like i’m mad about it. everyone thinks i’m crazy sexy these days and i would be a liar if i said it wasn’t going slightly to my head. but to be honest i don’t really think that’s a bad thing i’ve felt unsexy and unattractive my whole life! i deserve to feel like the shit.

i’ve been missing margarita lately which just sucks if i’m being honest because they have too much self-respect to actually talk to me. so we can’t even be friends. which is my fault! i screwed it up and there’s no way around that. but i miss them. i’ve started cooking a little more often recently but still only my one pasta recipe. and i realized i hadn’t drawn for like 8 months so now i’m trying to get back into it. i wish so deeply i could make myself do the things i want to do. i want to paint and sketch at home and go to life drawing classes and pottery classes and take photos and make collages and make videos of things and get back into editing and learn about fashion history and clothing and learn how to sew and live a life i’m proud of and instead i’m just the most bored person ever. i practically live at the bar by my job. i’m there more than my seasoned alcoholic friend who introduced me to the place in the first place. and i’ve made some of my best friends through this and i’m not going to act like that’s not the reason i go. i go to see them! but i think i also go to avoid going home because i’m afraid if i go home i’ll do nothing and feel like shit. and so i might as well do nothing in good company and feel like my time was spent well even if it was spent at the same bar every time. i’ll be there tonight without a SHADOW of a doubt.

in positive news it turns out that HR cut my hourly by $3 about 4 months ago and i only found out last month. have been really stressed and mad for a while about it! and when i brought it up to my boss the other day not only did he profusely apologize and tell me he’d get it fixed immediately and include a few weeks minimum of retropay, he also told me he’s going to give me a $1 raise on top of my initial rate. which is SO EXCITING!!!! AND AND AND lainey’s getting married in november in copenhagen and i’m invited!!! duh. the only stressful part is getting my passport and for some reason i’ve been putting it off for like 3 months which means now i am like. super super down to the wire and i’ll definitely have to pay the extra $60 to get it expedited. which is……fine! now that i have my RAISE.

i’ve been missing my parents a little more recently. i can’t say that i know why. i’m not really missing them but i’m missing who i wish they were for me. or wishing they were the best parts of themselves, i guess. i miss drawing with my mom and goofing around and watching tv and eating snacks and going to cafes and i wish that i could go hiking with her now that there’s less tension and i have an appreciation for it. and i miss hanging out with my dad and listening to music together and taking trips and i miss when i was little and we would dance in the kitchen together and it hurts so much that i don’t get that anymore. i barely got it to begin with past like, 9. we would get along so well if they wouldn’t take one look at me and hate me. and it’s not fair because i love my parents and i can’t stand them anyway. and there is a part of me that can never forgive them for the years of abuse they inflicted on me. especially because they’re never going to understand the toll they took on me! everything’s so bittersweet these days and when it’s not it’s usually just bitter. but most of it’s bittersweet. and i guess this is a depressive episode but it just feels so boring. it’s just one big all-consuming hole inside me. sometimes i think i’d be happier in washington and then i remember how i’m actually just bored everywhere. honestly i’ll be happier once i get my license and passport because then i’ll be able to drive upstate to the apple orchards and the waterfalls and the cute little towns and the ren faire and then to canada and see everything beautiful.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 213,

Morning thought: It’s now been nine days since I told Pat I’d come back and talk with him again.  Well, I feel horrible now.  I hate breaking promises.  It’s not like I was meaning to avoid him, I just plain forgot.  Which is even worse.  I even had a day in there where I didn’t have much going on that would have been perfect for a visit but it was only three days after so it felt too soon then.  Or am I just telling myself that I thought that to give myself a better sounding excuse than forgetting?  If you don’t write it down at the time, it can be hard to tell the difference between a memory of what you thought versus a story that you made up and want to believe about what you were thinking.  That goes for anything to a degree, I suppose, but for completely internal things like actions and intentions, it’s so much easier to do.

Is that why writing in this journal feels like a compulsion at times?

*******

I found Pat down on the beach once again.  Unexpectedly, he was accompanied by half a dozen young children, probably around three or four years old I’d guess, practically toddlers.  The oldest one there might have been old enough to wind up as a new student for me next rainy season.

One of them saw me and started shouting hello, which got Pat’s attention.  He waved me over to where he was sitting on a driftwood log with a child who was playing with his beard.  He hardly seemed to notice the latter.  A patient man indeed.

I must have shown some hesitation because he made a joke about most of the kids not biting.  I made a brief exhalation that could almost pass for a laugh and took a seat.  The little one on Pat’s lap shifted their attention from his beard to my hair.  I put up a hand to ward off the incoming grasp and submitted to having that grabbed instead.

I’ll admit, this scene wasn’t exactly my thing.  Sure, I’d just spent a few months acting as an elementary teacher, but that one or two year difference is a large one.  Can’t really even hold a conversation at this age.  Or maybe it’s just me that can’t figure out how to communicate with them.

Slowly moving my hand in circles to keep the toddler entertained while they moved their arms along with it, I asked Pat what the occasion was.  Nothing special, apparently.  He often winds up as a sort of communal babysitter for the Village; volunteers for it, really.  This just happened to be the first time I visited him while he was doing it.

Watching the children run and shout and laugh and play in the water and dig in the sand, I asked Pat how he doesn’t get overwhelmed by them all.  He said he’s had a lot of practice.  

Well, I can’t deny that.  

Also, liberal distribution of snacks and storytime.

That’ll do it too, I suppose.

I wondered aloud though what he would do if one of them fell down and got hurt, or went too far out into the water and started drowning, or stopped playing nice with the others and got in a fight?

He shook his head and said that outsiders always seem to ask that sort of question about the children here.  That we all seem to expect children to be drawn to danger - sticking hands onto hot surfaces, playing with sharp objects, walking in front of carts - like they don’t have any sort of survival instinct to avoid it.

I said that’s because they don’t.  They haven’t learned yet at that age what things are dangerous without firsthand experience and don’t have the pattern recognition or critical thinking to figure it out until it happens.  And telling them not to do something because it’s dangerous and will hurt rarely works the first time.  That or they’ll seem to forget about it after the one instance you managed to stop them and be right back at it the next day, if not the next minute.

Pat laughed at how much I sounded like all the other outsiders he’s had this exact conversation with.  Not the same words or even entirely the same reasoning, but still the same sentiment and picture of what children are like in the worlds we remembered being from.  It used to strike him as strange that people, even children, could somehow simply not recognize danger when they saw it and not avoid it.

He pointed at the child playing in the water, splashing about as the waves came up past their ankles.  He said that child has never tried swimming but they know they can’t, and no one’s told them to stay out of deep water, they just see it and know it will be bad for them if they go any further.  A bird doesn’t need to be taught to not fly into a storm or to avoid the jungle cats, so why should children be any different?  It’s not until they get older and learn how to question things that they start testing to determine the expanding borders of their limits and sometimes overshoot.  And yet, every outsider insists that instinct isn’t something children have.  Or not to that degree.  Pat seemed to think it’s a difference that extends into adulthood as well.

I said that might be the case, but accidents still happen.  Especially with motor skills and coordination still developing at that age.

With a grunt of exertion, Pat lifted the child between us down to the ground, scooted them off to play with the others, and proceeded to concede that’s true but added that’s why he chose this spot for them to play.  On a less placid stretch of beach or a less clear day, he wouldn’t let the children play like this without someone more spry than himself to assist with an unexpectedly large wave or unnoticed deep spot, but here and now, it’s perfectly safe.  He paused for a moment, gave a sly grin, and added that now he has someone like that on hand.

Before I could respond to that he stood up and announced that we were all going to take a walk further down the beach, and then maybe when we were done the Archivist would do today’s storytime.  If I didn’t know better I’d say that was a subtle bit of payback for waiting longer than I said I would to visit.  And while the thought crossed my mind, I don’t think that’s Pat’s style.  Lin’s maybe.  Definitely Cass’s.  But not Pat’s.

Mentally reeling from having been suddenly volunteered as I had been, I almost didn’t register how readily, if excitedly, the kids all abandoned whatever they’d been in the middle of to start following Pat up the beach.  Well, “following” was a loose term here.  More like all running in the direction they saw Pat going and then either stopping to look at/play with something or run back to him when they got too far ahead.  Still, surprisingly well behaved and quick to obey.  I’d noticed similar when I first started teaching, but seeing it again with even younger kids made the vaguely spooky feeling come back fresh.

As we walked Pat guessed what I was thinking and whispered to me that I was probably wondering if the villagers are human in the same way I am.

I gave another brief almost-laugh, said that he really has had this conversation a lot, and then admitted that while it seemed rude to phrase it that way he was right.  It’s been a thought that’s crossed my mind on a number of occasions, and not just because of the children being weirdly well-behaved and good at self-preservation in a way that implied a difference in nature as well in nurture.  The Blossom Field was the big one.  Also, the fact that no one ever seems to get sunburned despite going around with a lack of protection from the hot tropical sun, even with a wide range of skin pigmentation in the population.  And that wide range itself is an oddity given the Village’s small population and the centuries or more it’s been around as the world’s apparent sole civilization.  I suppose the occasional outsider once a generation or so might partially explain that, especially if they used to be more common, but I don’t know if that’d be enough.  Not to mention the near lack of disease and the weird link between births and deaths, but the former might be environmental and the latter might be supernatural, so they sort of get a pass in this case.

I realized around that point that not only was I rambling, but I’d stopped whispering and was getting weird looks from a couple of the kids.  I stopped talking, smiled and waved, and they went back about their business, such as it was.

After a brief lull  in the conversation, Pat picked it back up and confirmed that I wasn’t the first outsider to make those observations.  All the even mildly inquisitive ones do.  But while our memories of past lives might indicate differences in human biology, once we wash up here we’re the same as the villagers, in body if not in mind.  Even back when there were enough outsiders here at a time for them to form romantic relationships with one another they still couldn’t produce children together without a visit to the Blossom Field.  The drive to danger and disobedience seems to be something else though.  Maybe spirit more than mind.  All of us, villager and outsider, still human though all the same.

I probably would have spent more time mulling all that over except I was reminded that I was expected to do “storytime” for these kids and spent the rest of the walk trying to think of something appropriate.

The walk went the other way around the coast than Pat and I usually did (“usually?” has it even been twice?) and we stopped at the base of Siren Overlook.  To my surprise, it had a tunnel down here at the bottom that I’d never seen from up top connecting to the beach on the other side.  Definitely not a natural tunnel.  Walls too straight, ceiling too perfectly arched.  Fairly worn by age and tides though.

It was in the shade of this tunnel mouth that we unpacked the picnic lunch (from a basket that I’d also been volunteered to carry) and I was asked for a story.  I managed one.  Got into it enough to enjoy it even.  And the kids seemed to like it, which was the important part.

After that the kids played for a while longer in that new location until they started to get tired out and we turned around to go back to the Village.  No more existential discussions with Pat.  At first I was too busy watching the kids, assuming that it was now my job to be keeping them safe now that we’d moved to a new spot, and then by the time we were on our way back I was feeling tired myself.

We wound up taking them back to Pat’s house until parents started coming by for them over the next few hours.  Pat said I was free to go when we arrived, but I volunteered (actually voluntarily volunteered this time) to stick around and help babysit.  I was feeling a strange tinge of familiarity by that point.  I’m certain I never had kids of my own in the past life I remember, but perhaps babysitting was a thing I’ve done before.  Admittedly, I might have been slightly less eager to stick around if most of the kids weren’t about ready to start taking naps curled up in Pat’s large chairs or on blankets spread on the floor.

While they slept, I finally got around to making my apology to Pat for not coming by to visit as soon as I said I would.  

He said not to worry about it.  What’s a day or three of difference when all of us have nothing but time?  Especially him.  I started to say that the difference was a broken promise and to me that was a world of difference, but he interrupted me.  Said that he was sure that I’d tried to keep it and failed, which wasn’t the same as choosing to break it and that he’d forgotten too.  Or rather, if I hadn’t brought it up he would have assumed it was a conversation he’d had with some other outsider in the past.  Truth is, more often than he likes to admit he gets things mixed up.  What happened yesterday or what happened a decade ago.  So many memories.  Eventually you stop having new conversations, just new iterations of old ones, albeit some get far more or less iterations than others.

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Pat offered me tea.

I accepted.

When the parents did arrive, my presence was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.  Most of them seemed glad to see someone helping Pat, especially when that someone would be the kids’ teacher in a year or two.  Headstart on education and all that.

Staying around until the last of the kids were picked up meant I didn’t get much time in the library today.  Well enough, I guess.  Like Pat said, what do any of us have but time here?

I talked with Maiko a bit about my unusual day on the way back home.  Over dinner I asked if she had any sort of “instinct” when she was that young for staying out of trouble or behaving and obeying her mother.

She said she didn’t remember either way.

<==Previous          Next==>

[amoveablejake]

Colds, Christmas Trees and (World) Cups

This Sunday’s Tri-Force. 

I promise that I am going to move into my end of year round up pieces and my looks ahead to 2023 but that day, its not today. I have planned what my next few pieces will be and I will stick to that writing plan for once I’m sure and in the space for today it was a blank space meaning that, you better believe, it can be one of my more random, conversational pieces. So. Here we are. Over the past week I have had some sort of winter bug which has resulted in today my voice abandoning me. I can still croak a little bit but its not quite husky enough more strained so I’m practicing my miming skills instead to great effect. It is that time of the year, when the temperature has at times fallen below zero on this little island, when illness is paramount and so hopefully this will be me done and dusted for a little while at least. As I’ve been off from my day job I have been reading a lot and I finished ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’ which being set predominantly in a freezing vision of Sweden, felt apt for this time. I did really enjoy the novel even if the ending left me feeling a little bruised. I have now moved away from the series with my next book choice due to the slight upset that came from the ending however, I can already feel myself being drawn back to Salander and so I’m sure that as soon as ‘Fletch’ is done I’ll be back in Sweden with my favourite hacker. 

Today my Mum and I took a drive through the forest which was white with all the frost to a local garden centre to get our Christmas tree for the year. Getting the Christmas tree has always been one of my favourite Christmas activities, in part because I do feel like I am a part of a Peanuts episode, and this year’s tree is particularly special indeed. Bringing the tree home always feels very hygge and today there was also a walk out in the forest which again was very picturesque due to there being a blanket of frost everywhere that the sun hadn’t yet reached and even some places where it had because it is that cold at the moment. At the moment it still feels like Christmas is quite far away and I suppose it is as its a couple of weeks away and there is still work inbetween however, as more and more presents for people are arriving and that buzz fills the air it will soon be here in no time and a certain Vince Guaraldi track will play. Then again, when does it not. 

Yesterday evening England went out of the 2022 World Cup in Qatar against France. The thing that is most disappointing about this is not even that England lost but that the match at the end was so close and that it was a missed penalty that meant France went through. Either team deserved to win and the France team has many fantastic players, they deserve to be in the semi finals but also, so did in England and to go out like this, well, its not the first time an England defeat stings and it definitely won’t be the last. The funny thing is, a lot of my sports teams don’t win or rather haven’t won trophies in more recent years. I’m still waiting for the Packers to reach the Superbowl again, I would like it very much if United did win a trophy sooner rather than later, England, well, maybe one day and as for the World Series. I don’t know where to begin. But really, as much as I joke about the losing, I don’t mind. I don’t mind because really I am an optimist and the losses mean that when my teams do eventually win that victory is going to be even sweeter. I hope. I’ll tell you when I get there. 

See, not if but when.

-Jake, a man waiting for this cold to make him sound like Batman, 11/12/2022

[earlgreydream]

rings.

| bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. bucky with rings

mafia au, soft!dom

cw: sliiiiight dubcon if you squint, but not actually

“You’re running the money through here?” Steve asked Bucky, and he nodded.

“Yes. We have a few other sites we launder through, but most of the money comes through here. Police don’t come poking around a locally owned Romanian restaurant on the upper east side,” Bucky explained.

“Boss is very... careful.” Zemo explained, referring to Bucky.

They were trying to make a deal with Steve and Sam, the two American bosses of another mafia they were trying to sell their illegal weapons to. One of their bases was raided, all of their drugs and weapons seized by the DEA.

They had come to Bucky, looking to buy more weapons to arm their dealers and “soldiers”.

“And who is this exactly?” Sam eyed Zemo suspiciously.

“Zemo. He’s security, and my weapons expert,” Bucky answered.

“Do you have connections?” Steve continued, trying to ignore the Sokovian’s unsettling stare.

“Yes. The head agent of the Manhattan DEA is one of us. Half of the local precincts are in our pocket, and I own the NYPD.” Bucky’s tone was impatient, he didn’t appreciate the questioning of his authority.

Bucky was the most powerful man in New York, and also the most feared. He demanded respect, dominating every space he entered. Steve and Sam wanted to be under his protection, and be supplied by him.

The men stopped talking when they heard a noise, and the four men burst into the front of the restaurant, guns drawn.

“Did you not lock the fucking door?!” Bucky snapped at Zemo. Zemo just rolled his eyes, and they stepped out into the dining room, where you stood.

You loved the Romanian restaurant just a few streets down from your building. You frequented it, their papanasi your favorite comfort food.

You’d had a rough week, a lot of family drama, and you were craving the Romanian food. You found the door unlocked and a back light on as you were walking home late, and you’d gone inside to try to get a snack.

It was empty, but four men had come out, three of them pulling guns and pointing them at you. You’d heard voices and had begun to walk to the back hallway, where they’d been talking in an office. You’d heard “I own the NYPD,” and nothing else. You’d started to leave when the men had appeared.

The man who didn’t have a gun pointed at you was in an all-black suit, silver eyes matching silver rings on his fingers that looked like they costed more than your Manhattan rent.

You were frozen, staring down the barrels of three guns, fear robbing your lungs of air.

“Get your fucking guns out of her face!” Bucky shouted, making you jump. Zemo obeyed immediately, but Steve and Sam kept their guns pointed at you.

“She’s-”

“She’s unarmed and terrified. Put down the fucking guns!” The other two slowly lowered their weapons, and you were shaking.

Bucky looked at you, a frightened girl who clearly had just ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. You stared back at him, your hands trembling. You didn’t understand him protecting you from the other men, but you were thankful. 

“Please, I didn’t hear anything, I haven’t done anything... I just wanted some food,” you pleaded softly, looking at Bucky in hopes he’d take more pity on you.

“I believe you, doll, but we can’t let you leave,” Bucky spoke, and you bit your lip.

“I won’t do anything,” you promised.

“I know. You came for something to eat? Let’s get you some food. Zemo.” Bucky pushed the Sokovian toward the kitchen.

“Barnes, we can’t just-” Steve turned to Bucky, starting to object.

“You will respect my authority, Steve.”

You looked at him, and Bucky held his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, and his silver gaze softened.

“I’m not going to hurt you, doll,” he said quietly, and you carefully put your hand in his, the metal rings cold against your warm skin. Bucky pulled you toward him, his other hand going to rest on the small of your back as he led you to his office, sitting down with you on one of the brown leather couches. You began to smell the food Zemo was cooking, growing hungrier. Sam and Steve sat across from the two of you, and you shifted under their intense gazes.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked you, and when you didn’t answer immediately, he introduced himself.

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky,” he felt bad that you’d gotten caught up with them. Under another circumstance, he probably would’ve sent you away, but he couldn’t let you go in front of the two Americans, and not risking what you may have heard of their conversation. 

Your mind was spinning. You’d never been in the presence of four men as beautiful as the ones in the restaurant. Bucky especially, was incredibly gorgeous. His stern, dominating personality made him far more attractive somehow, and you found yourself growing warm in your jeans.

“Your name, doll?” Bucky’s voice was soft as he called you back to attention, snapping your mind out of your wandering thoughts.

“Y/N,” you whispered, pulling at a rip in your jeans, letting your eyes fall down to your lap.

“That’s a pretty name,” Bucky said, repeating it, and god it sounded so much better falling from his lips.

“Here,” Zemo returned, setting down a plate for you. A small gasp left you as Bucky hauled you closer to him on the couch. You realized it was so that Zemo could sit down on your other side. You picked up the plate, eating quietly, trying to ignore the stares from the men across from you. 

Zemo and Bucky didn’t stare, and Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your leg. They began to speak in Romanian, and you didn’t understand, so you kept eating. You nearly choked when Bucky squeezed your thigh a bit, his rings glinting from the movement. 

You wondered how the cool metal would feel against your heat.

“Y/N? I asked if you were alright?” 

“Hm? Yes,” you blushed furiously, and Bucky had an amused smirk on your face, practically reading your mind, or at least recognizing filthy thoughts as you stared at his large hands.  

“Her cheeks look a little rosy,” Zemo hummed, his fingers brushing lightly over your cheekbone. Your chest rose and fell heavily, and Steve leaned forward and took the now-empty plate from your lap. 

“Are you nervous?” Bucky teased, his deep voice soaking into you, surrounding you and blocking out everything else.

“No, sir,” you shook your head, swallowing hard.

“Sir? So sweet,” Zemo chuckled darkly, and you felt his fingertips ghost down your spine.

“I am sweet,” you said, looking up at Bucky, and he tilted his head to the side a bit, running his hand up and down your thigh. You squeezed your legs together without meaning to, just needing to alleviate some of the sexual frustration that was building inside of you. 

You were overwhelmed by the two men speaking softly and sensually to you, their hands on you, the dominating personalities, and the tension in the room. You were focused on Bucky, and he helped you onto his lap. You let him move you to straddle his hips, your back to the other men. 

“Want to show me how sweet you can be, doll?” He asked, his hands resting on your ribcage, and you could feel him through your thin top. You nodded shyly, and he kissed you to get you to relax a bit. 

“My friends here are going to watch, okay?” Bucky’s voice was dangerously soft, and you nodded. He kissed your cheekbone lightly before slipping your top over your head, your breasts barely covered by thin, see-through lace.

You blushed, looking to the side and seeing Zemo shift at the sight of your chest.

“He’s admiring you,” Bucky hummed softly into your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the skin there, just above the curve of the lace on your breast. His hands slipped down into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing you and pulling a breathy noise from you. You couldn’t see Sam or Steve, but you felt their gazes on your back, watching the way Bucky balanced softness and dominance with you.

“I want to make you feel good, I want to hear your little moans of pleasure,” Bucky spoke quietly, mouthing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Please,” now, instead of begging to leave, you were begging for him, the mafia don you were on top of.

“Let’s let these poor boys behind you see. I want them to know who’s in charge here,” Bucky said, and you nodded in consent. You felt like you could collapse as he got you to stand up off of his lap. You looked down at his rings as he smoothed his hands up your belly to tease the raised peaks under your bralette. 

“So pretty, doll,” Bucky praised you, kissing just above your navel. His eyes gazed up at you, and your trembling fingers threaded through his dark hair as you got lost in the stormy grey. 

Bucky wanted to tear you apart, but he took it slow and was gentle for you, the sweet girl under his protection.

He kissed the space between your hips as he undid the button on your jeans, sliding them down your legs. He reached a hand up for you to take as you stepped out of them, holding you steady. He smiled at the lace bottoms that matched your top, nearly see-through. 

You heard a soft throaty noise from behind you, and you looked to see Sam and Steve with their hands down their trousers, stroking themselves as they watched Bucky undress you. Zemo was doing the same, but less shy than the other two, his suit pants down around his knees, giving you full view of his cock.

You blushed shyly, feeling exposed but somehow safe with Bucky, who was squeezing your ass, leaving imprints of his rings against your skin. 

“Look, they’re all touching themselves because of you, how beautiful and sweet you are,” Bucky turned you around so your back was to him, making you watch Steve and Sam. Your skimpy underwear showed how wet you were, and you were unable to hide how turned on you were any more. 

Bucky’s hands were on your hips as he kissed down your spine, shivers shooting through your body. He slid the lace down your legs, leaving it discarded on the floor with your jeans, but not bothering to get you fully naked. 

A soft squeal escaped as you were suddenly dragged backwards, falling onto Bucky’s lap, your back pressed against his suit-clad chest. 

“You can rest on me, doll,” he coaxed you to relax, his hands smoothing down your body. 

Steve and Sam were overwhelmed by the sight in front of them, and Bucky knew it. He was doing this to assert his dominance, and to establish a level of trust between them. They watched him part your legs, keeping them open with his knees. Zemo was much more unphased than the other two, enjoying the show as one of Bucky’s loyal friends.

Bucky could hear your soft, unsteady breaths, and he stilled when your smaller hand grasped his. 

“Leave them on, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look him in the eyes before he could remove his rings.

“Of course, sweet girl.” Bucky planted a gentle kiss to your lips, deepening it to hear your soft moans. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” one of the men moaned as they came, seeing your sex glisten as Bucky licked into your mouth sensually. 

Bucky gently trailed his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were. He began to stroke your clit softly, listening to you whine.

He eased one of his large fingers into your tight entrance. You shuddered, your breath stuttering as you felt the cold metal against your hot pussy, your muscles squeezing around his finger. 

“Does that feel good?” Zemo asked you as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, still teasing your clit to keep you relaxed.

“Answer him, doll,” Bucky commanded you sternly. 

“Yes, sir,” you turned your head to look at Zemo, watching his hips fuck up into his hand. 

“No, you keep touching yourselves. You’re not done until I’m done.” Bucky’s order was directed at Steve and Sam, who’s noises rose in pitch at the forced overstimulation. They were too afraid to disobey Bucky, knowing the consequences would be dire. Zemo knew this ahead of time, and was taking it much slower, still enjoying himself as he watched you writhe on Bucky’s lap. 

Bucky kissed along your shoulder and neck, three fingers pumping slowly in and out of you. He expertly drew whines and moans of pleasure from you, and your legs were beginning to shake from the intensity. 

The cold metal against your heat was driving you mad, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Your back arched off of Bucky’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you against him. He still managed to stay calm enough to continue being gentle with you, leading you quickly toward a powerful orgasm.

“You must ask him before you let go, sweetheart,” Zemo informed you, and your broken whimper filled Bucky’s ears. He watched the other three men writhing in their own mind-blowing pleasure, all under the instruction of him. 

“Please, Bucky, I need-” you cut yourself off with a strangled squeal as he curved his fingers forward inside of you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” He said, kissing your cheek as he murmured the soft words. Your screams of white-hot pleasure filled the room, shaking and falling apart on his lap. A choked sob left your chest as he pulled out of you, his digits soaked in your come. He’d waited until you had fell down from your high, becoming relaxed in his arms. 

He was whispering gentle praises in your ear as he slipped his fingers into your mouth to clean them off. You hollowed your cheeks, obediently cleaning him up and feeling the metal rings pressed against your lips. You were soothed by sucking off his fingers and the praises, melting into the mafia lord.

“I think I want to keep you.”

[the-modernmary]

chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

 Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

  “BAU,” you supplied.

  “—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

  You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

  The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

  Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

  “So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

  “I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

  Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

  Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

  “— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

  Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

  Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

  The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

  Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

  You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

  Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

  The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

  The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

  When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

  You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

  His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

  As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

  You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you. 

  Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

  A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

  “Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

  You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

  The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

  It was exhilarating.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

  Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

  You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

  The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

  His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

  “Yes. Or no.”

  Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

  “Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

  “Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

  Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

  He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

  “Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

  “Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

  “And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

  Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

  You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

  “As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

  “Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

  “All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

  Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

  Two moves to checkmate.

  “Sustained,” said the judge.

  “Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

  Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

  “I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

  “What did you major in for your undergrad?”

  Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

  Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

  It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

  “None,” Aaron said finally.

  “None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

  Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

  You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

  You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

  “A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

  Checkmate.

  “Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

  He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

  You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

  The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

  “Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

  Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

  “The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you’re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

  You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

  Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning. 

  “In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

  That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

  Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

  “I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

  You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

  “He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

  Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

  “That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

  He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

  Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

  That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

  It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

  The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

  “Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

  You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

  The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

  If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

  Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

  “Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

  Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

  With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

  A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

  You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

  Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

  “Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

  “I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

  Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

  Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

  As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

  “Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

  “Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

  The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

  Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

  You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

  “What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

  Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

  “You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

  “Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

  You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

  Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

  Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

  Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip. 

  “I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

  You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

  His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

  “Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss. 

  His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

  Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs. 

  Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

  He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

  “What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

  Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

  Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone. 

  “Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

  That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

  “I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

  “More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

  Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. 

  You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

  You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

  That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

  You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

  His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

  “Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

  Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

   A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

  In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

  He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

  “By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

  Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

  Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

  He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

  Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

  Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

  “Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

  He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

  In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

  “I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

  “Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

  Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

  “I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

  You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was. 

  “Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

  Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

  “Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

  Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

  When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

  You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it. 

  The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

  “Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

  “I know.”

  “We shouldn’t have done it.”

  “I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

  You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

  Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

  The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

  Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

  “Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

  You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

  “Forgetting something?”

  You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

  “These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

  You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

  Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

  “Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

  His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

  “I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

  “Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

  Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

  You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

  He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

[jisungsmochi]

i’ve got this friend - mark lee

i’ve got this friend - mark lee 

based on the (unreleased) song by 5SOS 

neighbour & friend! mark + a very oblivious y/n (female)

word count: 1.7k 

summary: after a rumour stirs that you have a secret admirer, your neighbour and friend, mark lee begins to drop some, not so subtle, clues on who it might be. will his mission be a success?

//

mark hated lee haechan more than anything in the world right now. the little menace decided to spread the rumour that you had a secret admirer. mark was in panic mode, wanting nothing more than to roll up in a ball and cry.

“what the hell, man? what if she finds out?” mark groaned, holding the bridge of his nose, as haechan continued to giggle.

“would that be so bad? you’ve been pining over her since you became neighbours. isn’t it time for you to finally tell her how you feel?”

“what if she’s disappointed?” haechan immediately stopped laughing, furrowing his eyebrows at his glum faced friend.

“but what if she’s over the moon? you always look for the bad in these situations. you’re confessing to her, you have to” mark knew inside that he was partially right. it had been almost two years since he developed a friendship with you. although you weren’t attached to the hip, you were both friendly towards eachother and spent a fair amount of time together. haechan claimed he had a fool proof plan to ‘get the girl’ so let the games begin...

“hey! y/n, wait up” mark caught up with you as you exited your house.

“oh goodmorning mark” you smiled as you walked over to him, continuing to walk alongside him on your way to school.

“i gotta tell you something” he looks away from you, eyes drawn to the ground. you silently urge him to continue,

“i heard that someone likes you”

you immediately stop in your tracks, your face contorting into confusion yet also, excitement.

“really? do you know who it is?” you trailed slowly behind him, he didn’t even notice you had stopped briefly.

“uh yeah, i’ve got this friend, he doesn’t really want me to tell you who he is yet” you felt your heart sink, is this all some sick prank?

“mark, you don’t have to feed into these rumours-“

“no i’m being serious, you have an admirer” he softly smiled, making you feel slightly more at ease. mark had never lied to you before, why would he start now? you decided not to pry him anymore, wanting to keep this to yourself for the time being. of course you were curious as to who it was, but maybe keeping their identity hidden is giving them the courage to contact you eventually. you were hopeful, and so was mark. he wanted nothing more than for you to make your way to him.

“so is there anything else you wanna tell me about said admirer? is he tall? do i know him?” you begin to become impatient as you sat across from mark at your usual lunch table.

“um he’s kinda my size? i guess. you might know him, he does go to our school” you begin to turn around, scanning your eyes over the courtyard.

“don’t look now! he might be looking” mark hurriedly spoke, not thinking about his words.

“oh so he’s close to where we are?” you grew even more curious than before. you were going to get mark lee to crack, it was the only way.

‘oh fuck’ he thought to himself. what is he going to do now?

//

“mark, it’s honestly killing me! you really can’t tell me who he is? is he really that shy? or am i just intimidating?” you frown as you sit on mark’s couch in his basement. he invited you over sometimes whenever he was bored and needed someone to go over some of his song ideas with. mark was in a band with some of his close friends, they didn’t really have a proper name yet, and had barely played infront of people.

“you’re not intimidating at all! you’re one of the kindest people i know” he quickly jumps to your defence. he hesitates for a moment before continuing,

“well he plays the bass guitar, and oh! he thinks you would like him better if he had a car, kinda feels like a loser for not having one” your mind begins to wind, who do you know that can play bass and has no car...

well jeno was the official bassist of their band...and you remember him complaining at one of their practices that he was late because he had to take the bus. but really? did lee jeno have a crush on you? that seemed unrealistic. you barely had any interactions with him, only greeting him nicely whenever you tuned in to their practices. was mark trying to set you guys up or something?

“is it someone from your band?” mark froze, not expecting you to catch on so quickly. (not like he was being so discrete either)

“uh maybe, maybe not. i don’t know” he begins to ramble.

“i’m beginning to think you’re playing some weird prank on me, mark lee. i hope whoever this guy is, comes to me soon. the suspense is killing me!” and with that, mark knew he needed to speed up the plan.

//

“you gotta tell her soon, your stupid clues are probably making her stressed. and why the hell do you wanna make her stressed?!” haechan gave the older boy a hard smack on the back of the head.

“look, we need a new plan, asap”

“no shit, you’re lucky i’m the damage control” haechan huffed, putting on his figurative thinking cap.

“aha! you’re going to write her a song” mark raised an eyebrow at the younger boy as if he was insane, he can’t write a song in a day, not even a week sometimes.

“not an actual song! just a little snippet of a song describing your feelings, since you can’t seem to say it to her straight out. it’s a brilliant idea and you should thank me” mark understood where he was coming from. maybe if he sat you down, with his guitar and sang to you, it wouldn’t be as awkward or pressuring. lee haechan was in fact a genius.

//

“mark? it’s like 1am, what do you need me for?” you groan from your side of the phone call.

“i need to get something off my chest, meet me at the park in 10” part of you wanted to hang up and fall back asleep, but another part of you was curious as to why mark lee needed you so late in the night. you dressed yourself in a warm puffer jacket before making your way to the playground across from your and mark’s houses.

you saw him sitting on one of the swings, his guitar tucked close to him, his fingers strumming to a random tune.

“this better be good” you sigh, taking a seat on the swing next to him.

“the reason i asked you to come out here is because i haven’t been completely honest with you. i don’t want you to say anything until the song is done, it would really save me the embarrassment” he warned, making you slightly nervous. he took a deep breath, eyes focused on the strings of the guitar, before he began to play.

[ *cue ‘i’ve got this friend’ by 5sos hehe]

“I've got this friend who's crazy about you

I've got this friend who can't be without you

I've got this friend and I wish I could see

See what you'd say if I told you it was me

I want to tell you to see what you'd say

Before I jump in and I ask for that date

I've been that friend

I've been that friend and I wish I could see

How this would end if you knew it was me?”

your heart melted at each lyric. mark lee had been that ‘friend’ all along. the mark that always waited for you to walk to school together. the mark that always brought you home bubble tea when you were feeling down. the mark that always invited you over just because he enjoyed the company. it was him. it was always him.

you felt tears begin to fill your eyes, causing mark to place his guitar down and stand across from you, holding your shoulders gently.

“d-did i say something wrong? did i mess things up? i’m so sorry, y/n. i should have come clean so-“

“no mark, i’m not mad or sad! i’m just really overwhelmed. here i was thinking that this was all some silly joke when the whole time, you were my admirer” you slightly sniffled at the last part, making mark’s heart swoon. he wiped a tear that fell from your eye, as you leant into his warm palm.

“i don’t need you to say you like me back or anything, i just couldn’t go on with life without you knowing”

“i understand. and trust me, i’ve always seen you as my cute next door neighbour. and honestly, i’d be lying if i said that i haven’t thought about dating you” you felt heat rise to your cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice due to the cold.

“but all those clues! it must have been so entertaining to watch me struggle with piecing it all together! everything makes sense now, except for the bass guitar one. i thought you were just the lead guitarist?” you furrowed your eyebrows as mark began to chuckle.

“i kinda slipped up there, i can play both guitar and bass. i was actually the initial bassist of the band until we found jeno” mark explained, making you feel even more stupid.

“gosh, there i was thinking that jeno was my admirer” you saw mark begin to frown, causing you to stand and face him.

“but don’t worry about him, all my attention and focus will be on you now!” you smiled with glee, watching as mark copied your expression. he leaned down close to you, placing a small peck to your cheek, his breath slowly fanning your cheeks.

“so what do you say? go on a date with me?”

“of course, tell your little ‘friend’ he finally got the girl” you pulled him into a warm embrace, feeling him melt in your arms.

it was safe to say that you and mark didn’t remain friends for much longer.

[groovyzombiellama]

Shy Baby Girl

Title: Shy Baby Girl

Requested? Yes.

Plot: Cato noticing you during practice sessions and he starts flirting with you and teasing you, but slowly falls for your timid and kind nature, and then the night before the games he confesses and you spend the night together.

Warnings: I am attempting to write smut after so long of not writing anything, so i will be attempting to write a detailed smut scene :) (so please be nice to me, I’m so worried about posting this for some reason)

Word count: 3013 (I might have went a little overboard, but I haven’t written in a while, so enjoy a longer story :) )

---***---

You didn’t expect to get drafted for the Games any time soon, and when you were, your whole family was shocked, and your older sister, who actually thought she was going to be the one going in was ready to volunteer, but your dad stopped her, as he believed that you could get through it. You were actually fine with going into the Games, as you had accepted this as your life, and you knew your time was coming, and in the end you guessed it’s better rather sooner than later. But one thing worried you the most, and that was the fact that you hated confrontations, and would much rather be making friends in life, even though you knew that was kinda impossible considering the way the world was now. You were prepared to fight for your life and to win in the Games, but a big part of you dreamed of a day when you didn’t need to fight to survive. You didn’t expect anything going into the whole process, but you were planning on keeping to yourself and not responding to any provocations.

 At first, everything was fine, you were almost always training, to make sure you were as ready as possible, but whenever someone needed help, you were there to show them a move or hold their punching bag steady so they could practice accuracy. And that was how you actually caught the attention of Cato, a blonde, blue eyed guy, who ended up being intrigued by the quiet, timid girl, who greeted everyone with a smile. He watched you for a while, trying to pinpoint what it was about you that has him so drawn in, and he decided one day that he was gonna approach you, and teach you the best stance for a fight, considering this his moment to throw in some flirting in the mix. The faint blush that spread across your cheeks every time you saw him, well, it has him hooked. Watching you from afar was nothing compared to being up close and personal, and your shy smile that would grace your lips at his compliments was becoming the highlight of his day. “I see you at the gym every day, and you still struggle with the basics. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were scared.“ He said one day when he noticed that you were not using the stance that he had taught you and as he spoke, he let his hand “accidentally“ brush against yours, his eyes searching for that rosy tint that he felt was the shade only present on your cheeks and couldn’t be found anywhere else in the world.

You brushed him off, already used to his teasing, saying how you were not scared and if he needed you to prove it, he is free to challenge you to a sparing match. Cato smiled softly, a feature you had grown to like, and you lowered your gaze to hide your own smile that was curving your lips. But of course, Cato caught that and while he swore his heart was beating faster seeing it, he had to default to teasing you about how you were still not comfortable with him, despite knowing each other for a while now. The reason why he would always tease you and playfully flirt with you (although you were oblivious to that one) was because he was not really yet ready to confess his feelings to you. Pretty odd huh? A guy like him, who was training to fight for his life in the Hunger Games, basically a show for the rich to watch children get killed off one by one, until there is only one winner, afraid of what a girl thought about him.

Although he didn’t know how, he knew that he had to tell you abut how he felt, hoping that in case you felt the same, he could count on your alliance, and at the end he would let you come out on top, or would hopefully be able to convince the government to let you both win and stay together. And he had his mind set on telling you the night before the games. The fact that you were so timid and at the same time so fierce and powerful made Cato’s head spin. There was just someting about you, someting in your eyes that showed that despite the world crumbling around you, your innocence was someting intact that could not be destroyed and he wanted to protect that so much, he wanted to make sure you are not exposed to anything that could damage that, no matter the fact that you would have to fight for your life, he hoped you would let him stick by your side and protect you.

 Just like you were unaware of his flirting and the fact that he felt the same way for you as you did for him, you wanted to tell him how you felt, but you just couldn’t. There were a few times that you were certain that you were going to tell him about your feelings, but the moment you would see him, the way his sky blue eyes bore into yours and how they would light up when he smiles or develop their signature mischievous glint when he was teasing you, and all that courage that you built flied out of the window. Until tonight that is. You were currently sitting in a quiet fort that Cato had built a bit further away from the others and invited you, because he needed to tell you something, your eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and eyebrows raised, trying to process what he had just told you. Cato had just informed you about his feelings and it made you feel giddy and excited, but also gave you this newfound confidence, right after he waved his hand in front of your face, as you had been silent for far too long for his liking after he just spilled his heart out to you.

 Suddenly this new rush of confidence took over your body and before you knew what you were doing, you surged forward and pressed your lips against his, and this time it was Cato’s turn to be taken off guard and surprised. For a moment or two you just stayed like that, neither of you moving your lips, but just feeling them pressed one against the other, getting familiarised with their shape and soft feeling. Soon however, Cato started moving his lips, to which you followed suit, and the salty taste of todays lunch mixed together in your mouths, as Cato decided to lick your bottom lip, and then slightly nibble it after you didn’t get the hint, causing you to slightly gasp, and Cato took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth. You were filled with complete bliss as your tongues fought for dominance, that you just let yourself fall back, with Cato hovering over you, his hand on the middle of your back guiding you into the pillows he had placed for you guys to lay on. Neither one of you expected this turn of events, and you figured you would just talk and fall asleep there, but both of you were slightly worried about tomorrow, so you decided in that moment that you were gonna fall victimes to your feelings and enjoy your time together.

 As the two of you continued kissing, you felt like your hands had a mind of their own as they glided up and down Cato’s toned back muscles and his arms, one of your hands finding their way to the short hairs on the back of his neck, as you let your fingers tangle with them and even lightly tug on them, earing a low groan from Cato, which you happily swallowed. But soon it was your turn to express your pleasure, as you felt his warm hand get in contact with your cold skin, as he slipped his hand under your shirt, soothing your waist, before reaching up and cupping one of your breasts. You moaned just as your lips parted, damn lungs and their need for air. “Even though we are far enough away from the others, we’re gonna need to manage our volume baby, you never know who might be lurking, okay?“ Cato said as he looked deep into your eyes, his hand still on your breast, squeezing it after getting confirmation from you through a nod, causing you to gasp, and Cato to go right back to attacking your lips with his own.

 You felt his manhood harden against your leg as you went on, kissing and removing the top halves of your clothes. As soon as he reached around to your back to unhook your bra, you felt your nipples instantly harden as the cold air hit them, but what got you more worked up was Cato blowing on them slightly, before taking one of them in his mouth, while his fingers pinched the other. Your back arched off the pillows, and you felt your wetness pool in your core, with each flick of his tongue on your nipple. Cato sucked in a sharp beath as your hand found its way to his clothed dick, and you began to palm him, causing him to groan lowly as he attached his lips to your neck, and sucked on that sweet spot that had you seeing stars, making sure to leave a big, purple mark. After he was satisfied with his work, he kissed the spot he had been sucking on and looked at your hooded eyes, with his own getting darker and filled with even more lust.

 He wanted to see your face as his hand reached into your pants, and started rubbing circles around your clit, causing a moan slightly louder than you had intended to escape your lips. Cato quickly muffled it with his own lips, whispering into your ear that you needed to be a bit more quiet, but still continuing his assault on your core with his fingers. You bit your lip, and you could tell he could feel how wet you were and how aroused he was making you, just as you were making him (in his own words, you were driving him crazy). Without warning, his hand slipped into your panties and you threw your head back at the pleasure his fingers were giving you. “C-Cato, ple-ease...“ You wanted to say more, but your words got stuck in your throat when two of his fingers entered your pussy. You grabbed his wrist with both hands, and bucked your hips to meet his thrusting fingers, as Cato watched your face contorting in pleasure, your moans being music to his ears, and thinking in a moment how did he get so lucky to have you feeling the same way about him as he did about you.

 But hearing your cracked voice begging him for something (he knew exactly what) his fingers stopped and he removed his hand from your pants, causing you to whine from the lack of contact. Cato smirked as he licked his fingers, tasing your juices, that melted over his tongue like honey, before placing his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste the mix of yourself and his spit. His smirk grew into a grin as you began to fumble with the opening on his pants, desperate to feel him inside you. He allowed you to push him on his back and climb on top of him, and after removing his pants and boxers, letting his erection spring free, you got rid of your own bottoms, throwing them both to the side, and began tracing a line from Cato’s lips, down his chest and stomach, all the way to his manhood, finally getting to have your ears blessed with his breathless moans and groans as you took his manhood in your hands and licked a long stripe from his balls to the leaking tip, keeping eye contact with him, seeing his eyes flitter closed at the sensation.

 You waste no time taking him into your mouth, earning you a gutteral moan from Cato, to which you hummed, satisfied that he was now the one to have to manage his volume, and the vibrations your hum caused around his dick make him place one of his hands on his mouth at to try to supress, even a little bit, announcing to the rest of the people getting ready for the Games tomorrow the pure bliss that you were making him feel, while his other hand found it’s way to get tangled into your hair, not really forcing your head to move, just resting there, only slightly tugging on your hair when a wave of pleasure was higher than the previous ones, which he would only learn to both enjoy and regret, because that earned him you taking him into your mouth completely, so much that he could feel the back of your throat, along with the vibrations of your moan, and he could have sworn he was about to cum in seconds. When he felt truly close, he tugged on your hair a bit harder, and you got the hint, taking him out of your mouth, and the sight of your flushed cheeks, and a string of spit still connecting your plump lips to his dick was a beautiful sight to him.

 He beckoned you to come towards him, and he could taste himself as you kissed him, just like how he had made you taste your juices of his fingers. “How about you ride daddy now, hmm baby, what do you say?“ His low voice had shivers running down your spine, and you actually couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, so you positioned yourself and without any warning, you slammed hard on his dick, and it had both of you practically choking out moans from the back of your throats, getting used to now being connected into one before you started moving your hips up and down, Cato raising his pelvis to match whatever rythm you were leading him in, and despite starting off slow, soon you were placing your hands on his chest, your pace getting quicker and each time you would sink deeper onto him as your thrusts would meet in the middle. You were both no longer that concerned with managing the volume of your voice, as you didn’t really care if someone heard you, pure extasy flowing through you with each thrust.

 Wanting to tease him, you clenched your inner walls around his dick a few times, even past him telling you that if you continue doing that, he would cum sooner than he wants to. After you did it again, Cato had had enough, quickly rolling both of you over, as you squealed, and ordering you to get on your knees. You did so, even though you prefered watching his muscled torso and arms, shining with sweat, but the mix of pleasure, letting Cato take the lead, and the chance of you getting caught by someone in your heated session, it made it all so much more fun for you. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as Cato accompanied his dick entering your pussy with his hand slapping your ass, and the tingling sensation that followed was only adding to the pleasure, which he knew, and so he added a few more slaps as he fucked you fast and hard, going balls deep inside you with every thrust, and ever plea you made for him to slow down a bit were falling on deaf ears. “I can’t hear you baby. Are you saying to go faster? Sure I can do that.“

He almost had you screaming with the pleasure he was giving you and as you felt the tingles in your lower stomach, you knew it was only a matter of time before you came undone. As soon as Cato received verbal confirmation that you were close to your orgasm, his hand reached around and found your clit, rubbing it fast, and this time your were truly seeing stars as your body began to shake, and convulse, and you came on Cato’s dick, harder than you had ever cum before. It was gonna take you several minutes to recover from that, you were sure of it. And the sound of your moan as you came, accompanied by your pussy walls clenching around him, Cato knew he was close too. He pulled out of your pussy, you already missing the contact, and came on your ass, and then collapsed next to you, after using a napkin to clean both of you. He gathered you in his arms and used a blanked he had brought to cover your naked bodies, and you both waited until your breating settled down.

 You both felt amazing and you knew this was not gonna be the last time you would have sex with Cato, something in your gut convincing you of it, especially after he offered you a round two as you both came down. At first it had you giggling, thinking there was no way to top what you had just experienced, but seeing the tent his dick made in the blanket, you knew he wasn’t joking and that you were not yet done with each other. That blissful night before the Games had you both cumming multiple times, each one stronger than the previous one, and before letting exaustion take over you and your eyes flutter closed, taking you off to the realm of sleep, both of you agreed to stick together no matter what and find a way to survive together, despite all odds, and prove that you were stronger together. You had found each other in this world of madness and you were not gonna take that for granted, Cato was yours, you were his and no matter what, you were sure that he will have your back just as much as you’ll have his.

---***---

I hope the two anons that requested this think I did their request justice and I hope you all enjoy reading it. I’ll try my best to write more often, but since it’s exam season and I’m trying to graduate this year, most of my time is focused on studying :) I’m literally half asleep as I finish this fic, so I hope you guys don’t find any issue with it, and if you do, please let me know through messaging me something like “This part of your fic was a bit much” or something like that, for some reason I’m worried you guys are not gonna like it, but here it is, tomorow I’m going back into my inbox to find some new requests, but for now, I need sleep badly :)

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 28: Summer Changes (School)

AO3

Prev

A week after the Disney movie marathon, Marinette was finally back on patrol. No thanks to her dad though. If it was up to him, she’d probably never patrol again. Luckily for her, (unluckily for him) her brothers were adamant on her coming back to the field. Which led to her current problem. Hanging upside down from a gargoyle near Wayne Enterprises.

“Ukht, what have you done?” Damian asks, and though she can’t see his face, she can tell by his voice that he’s exasperated. Join the club, she thinks, at least you’re not upside down.

“Why do you automatically think I did something?” She asks, trying desperately to turn around so that she can talk to him. It was really awkward talking to someone when you couldn’t see them but you knew they were near you.

“Because you are the one hanging upside down,” Damian says flatly. She huffs.

“It’s not like I want to be, Robin. It just kind of happened,” She says.

“And how exactly did it happen? I have never seen your yoyo betray you like that before. Not even in the videos when you were still very new.” Damian says, and she swears he’s smirking. He’s definitely laughing at her on the inside, and as much as she wants to be frustrated, she can’t. It wasn’t easy amusing her little brother (unless you were an animal) so she wasn’t about to ruin it.

“Hood made a bet relating to this exact gargoyle and I’d never been this way before and I just, I don’t know. Somehow I misjudged where my yoyo was going and next thing I know, I’m tied up and Hood is gone.” She says, sighing.

“Where did he go?” Damian asks.

“Over here so I could record the dumbass trying to untie herself.” Jason says with a snort, she manages to turn just enough so she can see him and stick her tongue out at him. He chuckles. “You’re the one who somehow tied herself up with a magic string, I’m just getting the proof so I can show Wonder Woman.” He says and Marinette’s jaw drops.

“You wouldn’t dare!” She screams, struggling against her yoyo, finally able to get the string to loosen slightly.

“Oh, I’d dare.” Jason says and Marinette just knows he has a huge smirk underneath his stupid helmet.

“But Wonder Woman is the coolest person ever and she can’t see me like this!” Marinette complains, trying not to grin when she feels the string start to move the way she needs it to. She ignores Jason’s next remark, instead focusing on the string and- yes! She free falls for a moment, laughing at her brothers’ panic before she swoops up and jerks Jason’s phone away from him.

“You little shit!” He calls after her, starting to chase her.

“You’ll get it back once I delete the videos!” She calls back, laughing as she continues swinging through Gotham, a warm feeling in her chest as she looks over the city that has quickly become her second home.

---

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” A voice screams, making Marinette jump out of bed with a yelp. She clutches her hand over her heart, glaring at her oldest brother.

“Are you trying to make sure I don’t make it past my fifteenth birthday?” She asks with a huff. Dick just grins.

“Happy birthday kiddo! I can’t believe you’re already fifteen!” He exclaims, picking her up in a giant hug. She wants to complain, ask him to let her down, but it’s nice, so instead she returns the hug the best she can. Until she glances out the window.

“Richard Grayson.” She says in a tone she usually reserves for enemies. She feels him stiffen, the hug turning into more of a restraint than a cuddle.

“Yes?” He says.

“Did you honestly wake me up, before the sun, because it’s my birthday?” She asks.

“Yes?” He says, his voice cracking slightly. She purses her lips and lets out a long sigh.

“Dad has a no killing rule.” She says, and suddenly she’s back on the ground.

“Oh would you look at the time, Mar’i needs another bedtime story loveyousomuchgottagobye.” Dick rushes out, practically sprinting out of her room. She just smiles and shakes her head. She’d learned intimidation tactics from Jason and Damian, who both claimed her size made her an easy target against bad guys. They were right, of course, so she was fine with a few extra lessons. Seems they were working. Deciding to call her Maman and Papa since she’s already awake, she frowns as it goes straight to voicemail. It would be nearly eleven in Paris, so the bakery shouldn’t be too busy. She quickly checks the Akuma Alert App to make sure she hadn’t missed anything while she slept. Nothing. So why weren’t they answering? She had assumed they would be waiting for her call since it was the first birthday she’d spent without them. Sighing, she lays back down on her bed, closing her eyes and trying to fall back asleep.

As she lays there, she frowns as a realization hits her. This was the anniversary of her birth mother’s death. Her mood instantly sours and her stomach churns. It was the first year that she could do something about it, the first year she could visit her grave. Quickly making a decision, Marinette throws on a pair of black leggings and an oversized black hoodie. Hopefully no one would spot her.

“Kaalki.” Marinette calls out quietly, not wanting to wake Tikki (who had somehow slept through Dick’s intrusion).

“Oooo, Guardian, are we sneaking out?” They ask, an amused smile on their face. Marinette frowns.

“Yes, but it’s for a good reason.” She says, and Kaalki snorts.

“Whatever the reason, I’m happy to be of assistance.” They reassure her. Marinette smiles and calls the transformation, opening a portal in the cemetery where her birth mother is buried. Her Maman had taken her once, right after telling her she was adopted. It was extremely hard to avoid being akumatized that day, and Marinette steels herself before dropping Kaalki’s transformation. Today would probably be even harder. Pulling the hood over her head to try and hide her identity, she glances around the cemetery, unsurprised to see the small place empty. Despite its small size, it was well taken care of, with beautiful trees adding shade and creating a melancholy feeling. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the tombstone in the far corner, underneath the Willow tree. Bridgette Le. Died July 9th. Marinette barely notices the tears that start to form as she sits down, tucking her knees into her chest.

“Hi Mama. I-I’m sorry I haven’t really been by to see you much. Did you know I’ve been spending the summer with Dad? Sometimes, I wonder if you would’ve been okay with that. None of us really know why you left, why you didn’t tell him. I’m not blaming you, I just wonder if you would’ve been okay with me knowing him.” She talks, though she knows she’ll never hear a response. And she tries to pretend that fact doesn’t hurt her. “I have brothers. Four of them. They’re all great in their own ways, but they all also make me want to rip my hair out. Three of them are older, Damian’s younger than me. He kinda acts like a big brother at times though. And I have a big sister, Cass. She doesn’t say much, but she’s awesome. She’s in Hong Kong right now, so most of our conversations have been video calls. I have a niece, too.” Marinette stops, wiping furiously at her eyes. She didn't want to cry. At all. But knowing her birth mother would never be able to be part of her life, would never know any of these people like she did- it was hard.

“Guardian, please breathe.” Kaalki says, floating up to sit in front of Marinette’s face. Marinette blinks at the Kwami before listening to them. If they were worried, then Marinette was more lost in her head than she originally thought.

“And today’s my birthday. I was excited at first, and then I remembered the other thing that this day was. Remembered that it’s also the day you-” Marinette pauses, and grits her teeth. “I am so sorry, Mama. I am so sorry that I caused your death.” She chokes out, dropping her head onto her knees, trying to suppress the sobs threatening to break out of her chest.

“We need to go. Marinette, we need to go.” Kaalki urges, patting her cheek urgently. Marinette calls the transformation and falls through a portal, closing it quickly to keep the butterfly that was surely after her from following. She definitely didn’t need to test how far the victim had to be to be akumatized. The second she lands, she lets the transformation drop and the sobs break out.

“Shit Pixie.” Jason curses, and suddenly she’s wrapped in a warm hug, sobs tearing through her as she continues to apologize.

---

Jason Todd had been through a lot of weird shit. Waking up in a pool of green water after being fucking murdered by the Joker, was weird. Emotional baby sister falling through a portal into the room and sobbing? Also weird. But also heartbreaking. He grabs onto her and just holds her, desperately trying to give her some type of comfort.

“Shhhh, it’s okay Pix. I got you.” He mumbles, holding her close. Damian rushes in, sword drawn, face scrunched up when he sees them. Jason shakes his head, this wasn’t something that they could fix with a sword. He wasn’t exactly sure why his baby sister was crying so hard, but he had caught a couple of muffled apologies, so whatever it was, he didn’t think it was something that he (or Damian) could kill. Or, rather, maim, since she was against murdering people that were against her for some reason.

“Has anyone seen Mars, she’s not in her room-” Replacement starts, freezing as he walks into the room.

“Excellent situational awareness, Drake.” Damian mutters, glaring at him. Jason shoots both of them a glare, now was not the time to be fighting. Especially since the kid’s other parents were on their way to celebrate her birthday. If they showed up and she was sobbing, they’d take her home and never let them see her again. And Jason was NOT going to let that happen.

“Anyone know if M’s decided to not kill me yet?” Dick asks, walking into the room with a huge grin that falls the second he sees what’s happening. Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently none of his brothers could read a fucking room. Instead of staying at the edge of the room like Damian and Tim, Dick walks over.

“Hey kiddo, it’s okay. We’re here.” He says softly. The kid pulls away from him, though he can tell it’s a little reluctantly, before launching herself at Dick, her sobs starting to die down. Jason lets out a short huff, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to think of what could have set her off. There were no akuma alarms, but she fell out of a portal. Which means she was out of the manor when she got upset. He watches as Dick pats her hair gently and whispers to her. God, he’s such a dad. Then again, he’s been mother henning him and their other brothers for years, so it’s not really a surprise.

“I’m sorry guys.” Marinette says suddenly, her voice small as she stays hidden in Dick’s arms.

“No need to apologize, Pixie Pop.” Jason reassures her. She finally pulls away from Dick and Jason’s heart, honest to god breaks at the broken look on her face.

“She died in childbirth, you know.” She whispers, and suddenly it makes sense. Why she was sitting there sobbing on her birthday, why she’d fallen out of a portal.

“That is not your fault.” Damian says firmly, walking over and standing face to face with Marinette, something Jason knew annoyed the girl. Damian was two years younger, but a little taller than her. She didn’t seem to mind now, though.

“But it was. If I hadn’t been born-” She starts and Jason frowns at the thought.

“The world would be a much shittier place.” He says with finality, not leaving room for her to argue. “Pix, you’re amazing, and the world would really suck without you. Never be sorry you were born.” Jason says firmly, stumbling slightly when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Thank you Jay.” She mumbles, and he can tell she’s crying again, but this time it’s not sobs, so he thinks it’s fine.

“Come on, let’s all watch a movie.” Repla- Tim suggests and Jason raises an eyebrow at the idea, briefly wondering what kind of movie he’d pick. They all pile on the giant sectional that Bruce had bought specifically for impromptu movie nights as Tim sticks the DVD in. Jason just snorts as the title card for “The Addams Family” comes on, settling back in the couch, ready to watch one of the greatest movies ever.

---

“Thank you again for flying us out here for her birthday.” Sabine says, smiling at him. Bruce returns the smile and nods.

“Of course, thank you for letting her spend the summer here. I know she’s appreciated the break from her classmates.” He says, his smile quickly fading at the confused look on both Sabine and Tom’s faces.

“What do you mean?” Tom asks.

“Marinette hasn’t told you?” Bruce asks, suddenly regretting bringing it up. Why hadn’t she said anything? They were her parents too. Sure, she’d made it clear they couldn’t know about Ladybug, but her class wasn’t a hero problem. They were a civilian problem.

“We knew that she wasn’t hanging out with them as often, and that she didn’t talk about her class as much as she used to. We just assumed that she was busy.” Sabine says, her face a mixture of sadness and anger.

“My apologies, I assumed she’d talked to you.” Bruce says, feeling as if he had crossed a line. Would they be mad at him, for her telling him something she hadn’t told them?

“She’s always looking out for others first,” Tom finally sighs, a tired smile on his face. “She probably thought she was saving us from being akumatized.” Bruce’ jaw clenches. Had Marinette really suffered in silence to avoid being forced to fight her parents?

“We can continue this conversation later, right now we should focus on her birthday.” Sabine says, placing a hand on Tom’s arm. He nods and Bruce makes a note to talk to the two about the possibility of her switching schools.

“She’s probably in her room.” Bruce says, leading the two towards the stairs.

“Actually, Master Bruce, the children are all in the informal sitting room. I believe they snuck down to have a movie night after Master Dick woke Miss Marinette to wish her a happy birthday.” Alfred says, Bruce watches his face and knows that’s not all, but doesn’t press. It had to be something that he couldn’t talk about in front of the Dupain Cheng’s.

“Of course they did. Thank you, Alfred. Alfred, this is Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, Marinette’s parents. Tom, Sabine, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He’s the man who raised me.” Bruce says, smiling at him. The three exchange pleasantries and soon Bruce is leading the two to the sitting room. He pushes the door open gently, careful not to let it slam. He spots a sword on the floor near Damian and quickly grabs it, moving it away. If he was woken up suddenly, he would still panic and attempt to fight his way out.

“She looks so peaceful.” Sabine whispers, and Bruce smiles, a genuine smile, he didn’t have to fake a smile when most of his children were together and safe and happy. Or, quiet, at least. It was rare.

“I’ve found them like this several times.” Bruce admits, pulling out his phone to show the two all of the pictures he’d taken of the kids piled together sleeping. Sabine and Tom smile widely at the pictures and Bruce quickly sends them their favorites.

“B, I swear to god, I can sense you in here. Let us sleep.” Jason mumbles grumpily.

“Sorry Jason, Marinette’s parents are here so it’s time to get up.” Bruce says, amused at the way his son’s hair was attempting to defy gravity. Jason looked around sleepily, waved lazily at Sabine and Tom, and then collapsed back on the couch. Bruce sighs. “Would the two of you like to have a cup of coffee while we give them a few more minutes to sleep?” He offers.

“That would be lovely.” Sabine says, and Bruce leads the two to the kitchen, hoping Tim (who had sat straight up after Jason flopped down) would take the hint and wake up the others.

---

Marinette sighs happily as everyone sits down at the table for dinner. The day had been amazing, despite the rough start. And her Dad had even flown her Maman and Papa out to spend the day with her. They couldn’t stay for long, they had the bakery to run after all, but it was still nice to see them. Marinette glances at the end of the table where a place was set, but no one sat.

“What’s with the extra plate?” Jason asks, turning to Alfred who was sitting in the chair next to it instead of his regular seat.

“It is for Miss Le.” He says, and she can almost feel everyone freeze. Her throat tightens, but she still smiles at him with watery eyes.

“Thank you, Alfred.” She says quietly. He nods.

“You are quite welcome, Miss.” He says. She clears her throat and looks back at her Maman, noticing that her smile was also a little sad. It had been all day, but Marinette was certain it wasn’t anything to worry about. Bridgette had been close with her Maman, surely she was just mourning her today, openly for the first time in a long time.

---

Marinette groans at whoever is trying to wake her up.

“Five more minutes.” She mutters, burrowing deeper under the covers. It was summer break, why wouldn’t anyone let her sleep?

“Come on sweetheart, your Papa and I want to talk to you and Bruce.” Her Maman says, and she immediately sits up. Was she in trouble? Had her Maman figured out the whole Batman thing? Had she figured out the Ladybug thing?

“Uh, okay.” She says, sliding out of bed and stepping into slippers. She wasn’t sure how serious the conversation was, but since her Maman didn’t stop her from walking out of the room in her pajamas, she relaxed slightly. It couldn’t be that serious, right? She follows her Maman into her Dad’s study, glancing wearily at the clock in the corner. Her Maman was often too observant. Hopefully she didn’t notice anything odd about the clock. They all sit in silence for an entire minute until Marinette can’t handle it anymore.

“Am I in trouble?” She asks hesitantly, looking between her parents’ faces.

“Of course not, we just- We noticed how different you are.” Her Maman says and Marientte frowns, furrowing her eyebrows. Different? She was different?

“How?” She asks.

“You’re happier than I’ve seen you in months honey. Your smile reaches your eyes, you talk freely, you seem peaceful.” Her Maman says softly, and Marinette blinks in surprise. Had she really been so easy to read in Paris? Had her parents really been able to tell? She’d wanted to hide it from them, not let them see how everything was piling on her, crushing her. She didn’t want to worry them.

“What do you- how-” She stumbles over her words, trying to figure out where she messed up.

“We didn’t know why until we talked to Bruce.” Her Papa says and she turns to glare at her Dad, feeling a little betrayed. He holds up his hands in surrender.

“Marinette, you didn’t tell me not to tell them about your class.” He reminds her, and she huffs.

“Guess we can cross mind reader off the list of things you can do.” She mumbles, making her Papa snort.

“It wasn’t just that though. We’d seen how restrained you had become, how you never went out with friends and you stopped talking about them.” Her Maman says softly. Marinette grits her teeth, hugging herself to try and hold herself together.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” She says, her voice barely audible. That wasn’t the main reason though. She didn’t want to fight her parents, and if they knew everything going on with Lila, they’d definitely be akumatized. She couldn’t fight them. Not if she could help it.

“What would you say about transferring schools?” Her Maman asks suddenly, and Marinette jerks her head up, looking at her with wide eyes. Transfer schools? It would be great, amazing, fantastic, but- but her classmates would still come to the bakery. Still give her the same odd looks they’d been giving her since they found out that she’s a Wayne.

“What school?” She asks, because yes, that makes a difference. Chloe had transferred schools not long ago, and Marinette did not want to trade Lila for Chloe. She’d rather not deal with either of them, if she was being honest.

“Gotham Academy.” Her Maman says, and Marinette feels lucky that she wasn’t drinking anything, because she would have definitely done a spit take. Gotham Academy? As in, live in Gotham year round? What-

“Are you giving me up?” She asks, suddenly hurt. Her Maman’s eyes widen and her Papa pulls her into a giant hug.

“Of course not honey.” He says, rubbing her back gently and squeezing her lightly.

“We asked Bruce if he thought Gotham Academy would be a good school for you. He offered to let you fly home some weekends, and any of the breaks you want. Or to fly us out here if you have time off school. You don’t have to say yes, and you don’t have to make a decision right now.” Her Maman reassures her as her Papa lets her go. Marinette turns to look at her Dad, his face unreadable.

“Would you really be okay with that?” She asks, and he nods.

“We all just want you to be happy, Marinette. Wherever that may be. And we’re all willing to work together to do that.” He says and she smiles, letting out a soft sigh.

“I- I’d need to think about it a little more,” She says, running through the idea in her head. It seemed perfect, besides the whole ‘bouncing back to Paris for attacks’ thing. But she’d been doing it all summer, it had been fine so far. And maybe, maybe, Hawkmoth would even be defeated by the end of summer. No matter what, things were changing and Marinette was trying her best to keep up.

Next

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[whispersatdawn]

on the rebound | jeong jaehyun social media!au | part 23

↳ In an attempt to finally move on from his ex-girlfriend, basketball star Jeong Jaehyun reaches out to Y/N, who he knows has a crush on him.

prev | next || masterlist

word count: ~1.5k

You lovingly gazed back down at the big bouquet on your lap, and your smile automatically grew bigger at the sight of the beautifully arranged flowers sent by Jaehyun. Your fingers brushed against the small note card attached, rereading the cursive print: Thinking of my favorite person again <3

“From, your... boyfriend,” you finished, feeling your cheeks warm, still slightly unaccustomed to the label that reminded you that Jaehyun was yours.

In the past few days, Jaehyun gained confidence to show more affection towards you. Although you noticed he preferred to do so in private, in front of your friend group, he had no problems occasionally holding your hand, or putting his arm around your shoulders, or giving you quick kisses. Jaehyun also enjoyed taking you on romantic dinner dates, and when neither of you felt like going out, he would order takeout and bring it over to your apartment. You were kind of sure it was an excuse for him to stay the night, too, not that you were complaining at all. You adored him for making you feel loved.

Soft knocks appeared on your bedroom door, pulling you away from your thoughts. After you acknowledged the person on the other side, the door opened, and Sujin’s head popped in. “Do you need anything from the store?” your friend asked. “Johnny and I are gonna go right now. I need to buy more shampoo and conditioner.”

“Um... can you please get bread and eggs? We’re about to run out. Also, do we need anything for the beach house?”

“Got it, and I don’t think so? I mean, if you think of anything, you can just text us while we’re there. To be honest, I haven’t even started packing yet,” Sujin sighed.

“Same,” you admitted, matching the other’s sigh. “And where’s Ten? I haven’t seen him since I got home.”

“Taking a nap. Oh, by the way, I just finished my laundry, so you can go ahead and do yours—”

“Sujin!” you heard Johnny call from the living room. “Are you ready? Let’s head out.”

“Coming!” replied Sujin as she turned back to you. She said goodbye in a sing-song voice, but not before her eyes shifted down to the bouquet, grinning. “Gorgeous flowers!”

The rest of the day went by in a tranquil manner. You did laundry, and when Sujin and Johnny returned from the store and Ten woke up, the four of you spent a majority of the time together catching up on your favorite TV show until the evening.

“Geez, it’s almost ten thirty,” Johnny said with a yawn, stretching his arms as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think I’m gonna call it early. Got the morning shift.”

Sujin lifted her head from your shoulder and removed the blanket from the both of you. “Yeah, I’m getting tired, too,” she said. “Guess that’s it for the night.”

You reached for the remote to turn the TV off. “Aw, okay. I should really start packing for the weekend anyway, it’s—”

The ring of the doorbell cut you off, causing you to look at your roommates in confusion, and they returned the same look.

“Were we expecting anyone?” you asked, brows drawn together, and the others shook their heads.

Johnny was the one who walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. “It’s for you, Y/N,” he said, pushing the door open, revealing a sheepish Jaehyun at the entrance. He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and pants.

Your boyfriend gave a single wave. “Hey, guys,” he greeted before turning his attention to you. “Um, I texted you a few times, but you didn’t respond.”

“What? I should’ve heard—” You started, but then immediately remembered that you put your phone on silent, faced down next to you in order to focus on the show. You let out a groan, cursing yourself mentally. “I’m sorry. My phone was on silent, and I haven’t checked it.”

Johnny closed the door and bid goodnight, with the others following after him to the hallway, leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

“Night, guys. Did I come at a bad time?” Jaehyun asked you, wrapping his arm around your waist and leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips. You noticed the worried look on his face when you pulled away and could not help but kiss his pouty lips again.

“No, they were headed to bed anyway,” you assured him. “I’m really sorry I didn’t read your texts. What did they say?”

“I wanted to take you out to see you, but I guessed I ended up doing so anyway,” he said with a chuckle.

You giggled. “You literally saw me yesterday when we all hung out with everyone at the bowling alley.”

Jaehyun shrugged. “What can I say? You have me under some kind of spell.”

You let out another laugh, playfully rolling your eyes at the cheesy comment as you reached for his hand, leading him to your room.

“What’d you do all day?” Jaehyun asked.

“Nothing much. Just some chores. I was about to pack right now, but then you showed up.”

“You can still pack. Don’t let me stop you.” He bounced onto your queen-sized bed before sitting back upright, legs hanging off the edge.

“Now, why would I pack,” you started, walking over to Jaehyun, “when I have my handsome boyfriend right in front of me?” You settled yourself over his lap, and he automatically placed both of his hands on your waist.

“I am a pretty interesting person, huh?” Jaehyun replied, licking his lips as he watched you.

“Very.”

You placed both hands on the sides of his face and kissed him. You caught scent of the woodsy cologne he always wore; it had grown to become one of your favorites, too. The kiss was sweet, and a part of you wanted Jaehyun to take it a little further, but Jaehyun pulled away, slightly taking you by surprise. “I... actually came here for another reason,” he told you softly, tucking stray hairs behind your ear and staring into your eyes.

“What is it?”

He started reaching into his pocket, so you moved off of him, sitting yourself next to your boyfriend as he pulled the content out. Jaehyun handed you a small box with a brand name printed on top. “Open it,” he said.

When you opened the box, you gasped, eyes wide at the beautiful rose gold heart necklace displayed inside. The chain was simple and the heart was small, but you knew from the brand that it was expensive. “Jaehyun...”

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling as he watched your reaction. “Can I put it on you?”

You did not know what to say, so you nodded your head, handing the box back to Jaehyun. He removed the necklace from the box. “Turn around.”

Your body turned to the opposite side, facing the wall. You felt Jaehyun’s body warmth as he moved closer behind you. He placed the necklace in front of you, and you gathered your hair, lifting it up so that he could bring the chain around to the back and connect the clasp. You let your hair down and fiddled with the heart between your thumb and index finger, smiling to yourself. Then you felt Jaehyun’s fingers touch your skin as he brushed your hair away and he planted a kiss on the side of your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you sighed at the contact. Turning around, you found Jaehyun watching you as if waiting to see what you would do next. “Thank you,” you said, voice almost in a whisper. “I love it.”

“Good.”

“Are you gonna stay tonight, too?”

“I want to.”

“Good, because I also want you to.”

After you turned off the lights, the moon was the only illumination, peeking through your window. You laid beside Jaehyun under the covers, and he instantly pulled you closer to him so that you were pressing against his chest. You practically melt in his arms, feeling safe around him. “Because of you, I’m starting to not like sleeping alone as much,” you mumbled, trying to fight off sleep.

Jaehyun chuckled. “Then it’s already going according to plan. You’re gonna be the one whipped for me.”

“Says the guy who showed up at my place after I ignored his texts and gifted me an expensive necklace. Who’s whipped for who?”

“Okay now,” Jaehyun said, tickling your side, causing you to burst into giggles before pressing your lips together, remembering your roommates were asleep. “Stop embellishing the story, Y/N. You did not ignore my texts.”

You stuck your tongue out at him jokingly. “Same difference.”

“Mhmm.” The tiredness was apparent in his voice, and your eyes started to drift to a close. Your boyfriend placed a kiss on your forehead, on your nose, and the last one on your lips. You let out a content hum. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was a low whisper from Jaehyun.

“Night, baby.”

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[sleepy-belphie]

Hello! I don’t know if you’re doing headcannon requests but if you don’t mind could you do something along the lines of “the brothers find out mc likes to draw and drew the brothers”

Hi! I am doing hc requests so thank you for sending this in! It was actually really fun to write, I really hope you enjoy it <3 Got a little carried away with this one too lol

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

He’s doing room checks as usual

And you left your sketchpad/drawing tablet out on your desk

You catch sight of it a bit too late and can only watch as Lucifer moves from your dresser to your desk

He pauses as his eyes spot the sketchpad/tablet

He picks it up and looks at it before glancing at you

“May I?”

You nod and nervously watch him go through your work

His face is unreadable as he goes through drawing after drawing of him and his brothers

It feels like an eternity before he finishes

“Do you do commissions?”

It takes a moment for you to register what he’s said

“...what?”

“I’d like to commission you.”

If you do traditional art he asks for a 30x40 of him and his brothers

If you do digital art he asks for a colored, full-body piece of him and his brothers

He lets you decide how much you want to be paid

But he thinks it’s not enough so he pays you 55,000 Grimm

The 30x40 piece hangs in his study

The colored, full-body piece is printed, framed, and sitting on his desk

Mammon:

He bursts into your room one night when you’re finishing up a drawing of Satan and Asmo

You’re not fast enough to hide it from him

“Is that Satan and Asmo? Oi! Where’s my drawing!?”

Before you can show him anything else he’s speaking again

“N-not that I care! It’s hard to capture this perfection! I can see why you haven’t drawn me!”

He tries to act unbothered, but you can see past his tsundere ways

Once he’s done declaring how unbothered he is, you show him some pieces with him in it

He grabs the pad/tablet excitedly and snatches it from you to marvel over your work

“This is actually really good, ya know? I bet we could make some good Grimm off your little talent.”

You can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes

But you tell him that is not happening and take your pad/tablet back

He’s a bit mopey about it for a little but eventually lets it go when he sees you aren’t budging

When he does have a little bit of Grimm he does commission you for a small piece

The brothers’ eyes almost bulge out of their head when they hear that Mammon actually paid you for work

“What!? The Great Mammon can be nice sometimes! It doesn’t mean anything!”

It means a lot actually

But you’re a pro at reading between the lines with Mammon

Leviathan:

He’s on social media when he sees a drawing on his explore page that he’s absolutely in love with

The art style? Immaculate. He wanted to see so many of his favorite game and anime characters in this style

He imagines Ruri-chan in your art style and his brain just *internet dial-up noises* for about five minutes

He goes to the artist’s profile and starts scrolling through all their posted work

He pauses when he comes across a drawing that looked suspiciously like him in his demon form

The face was blacked out but the serpentine tail, the horns, the diamonds on the neck, the side zipped hoodie

It had to be him

In shock, he scrolls back to the top of the profile and checks out the bio and name of the artist

He is greeted by a very familiar face and name

He is in your room less than 2 minutes later

“You! Y-You did this!?”

You almost drop your pad/tablet thanks to his outburst and abrupt entrance

You look at the DDD that was shoved in your face and slowly nod

You thought he was gonna blow up at you for posting a drawing of him, even though his face wasn’t in it

You are very wrong

Levi becomes your #1 source of income

The moment you finish a piece, he is commissioning you again

You worry that he’s draining his bank account because he tips you very well

But he isn’t bothered at all by it

All of your pieces are on display in his room

He also posts all of your art on his social media and tags you

Your page explodes in popularity and the commissions are rolling in from his online friends

You had no idea otakus pay so well

Mammon is very jealous of the amount of Grimm you have piling up

Satan:

One day he asks you about your hobbies and you tell him you draw

“What do you draw?”

Cue internal conflict on if it’s weird to tell someone you’ve been drawing them and their brothers since you’re always around each other

He senses your hesitation and like the smart ass he is, he’s able to guess exactly why 

“Would your hesitance be because of the subject of your art?”

He knows too much for his own good

You decide it’s best for him to see it instead of telling him

Being a fan of literary art, you were worried he may be overly critical of your fine art

He was not the type to sugarcoat anything

However, he simply smiles and hands your pad/tablet back

“You’re incredibly talented, MC.”

A few days later he asks you to tag along with him while he handles something

That ‘something’ is going to feed some stray cats he’s come across

“MC, I’d like to commission you. I’ve found homes for these cats but I want something to remember them by. Will you help me?”

How can you say no to a man holding four cats in his arms?

You take some photos for reference and make four different pieces for him

When you give them to Satan, you swear you’ve never seen a bigger smile on his face

He framed them all and keeps them on top of his bookshelves

Asmodeus:

He found out through Levi’s social media

He commissioned you for a piece of him and the protagonist of a game he recently started playing

This piques Asmo’s interest and he wonders if you’ve ever drawn him before

He approaches you when you’re in the kitchen grabbing a drink

“Hi, darling. I saw the piece you did for Levi and naturally if you’ve done one of him you’ve probably drawn my beauty as well, right?”

You decide to show him since he brought it up

He’s gushing over all of your art

No, seriously, he is praising you so much even the tip of your ears start burning from your blush

He commissions you to draw him in many different ways 

Him in his bedroom, him in the bath, him as a mermaid, him as an exotic dancer

He comes to you with so many different ideas

He tests your limits but you actually like that

Beelzebub:

Beel is rather stoic, but he doesn’t mean to be

It was his resting face and smiling was usually reserved for eating yummy food

But you wanted to practice drawing him with different expressions

Beel’s welcoming manner gave you the courage to approach him and ask if you can take some pictures of him to use for a reference

He’s shocked you wanna draw him but agrees with the condition that he gets to see some of your other work

You show him different pieces of him and his brothers and he’s smiling the entire time

“These are all so good. I didn’t know you could draw.”

He commissions a piece of him and Belphegor and one of all seven brothers

But he also asks if he can watch you draw them

You both spend quite a few nights together

You drawing and him munching on snacks and feeding you some every once in a while

His presence is actually pretty calming so you ask him if he minds staying around while you work even after you finish his commission

Beel being Beel, agrees to keep you company

The night usually ends with him carrying you to bed

Sometimes, he takes you to his bed to cuddle

Belphegor:

Belphie was actually the first brother you drew

You came across him asleep in the attic once and he looked so perfect

Your fingers were itching to draw him, so you did

It became a routine for you to head to the attic and draw him while he slept

You always crept out before he woke up

You thought he had no idea of your little practice sessions

But one day you looked down to fix a mistake you made on his nose

When you looked back up you saw Belphie staring right at you

“You know, if you’re gonna draw me the least you can do is show me.”

You try to stammer out an apology as he sits up

“Oh, I don’t care. You don’t make noise or anything, I’m just very hyperaware of my surroundings. So I know when someone is in the same room as me when I sleep.”

He moves over to you and looks at your pad/tablet

“Hm, not bad MC. Show me your other work some time.”

Then he goes back to his sleeping spot, curls up, and falls back asleep

You sit there with your pencil/stylus in your hand, trying to wrap your head around what just happened

But he didn’t seem disturbed so you continue drawing

When he wakes up you show him more of your work featuring his brothers

He asks if he can have a quick sketch you did of him and Beel 

You jokingly say he has to pay for it

He actually pays you for it

He puts it up in his room

It’s nice to see when you visit him and Beel