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emberfrostlovesloki · 10 months ago

Text

The Cherry on Top [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Center Left (@bau-bitch02) (@agentdilfhotchner) Right (@thyme-in-a-bubble)

Prompt: When the reader gets drugged on a case, she inadvertently tells Aaron about all the dreams she’s had with him. He then has to decide how he’s going to move forward with information that leaves him needy and wanting of the reader.

Pairing: Aaron x fem!BAU!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: angst/smutt

Word Count: 16.7K

A/N: Hi loves! First off, this story is 18+, minors DNI. Please respect this boundary. Content Warnings are below the cut. Here is another fic based on the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins January/February Writing Challenge. The prompt this was based on was “Characters decide to try something new in the bedroom.” I wrote this fic specifically for my friend @tgskitten who always gives me such encouragement! ILY. I also want to shout out @silk-spun for reading all my snippets and hyping me up SO MUCH! This is a slow burn to smut and I hope it brings you as much joy as it did me. I had a lot of fun writing the smut scenes and I hope the build-up is worth it (pun intended). If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your week and thanks for reading. Love Levi - ❤️

Content Warnings: Death by overdose [victims of unsub], drugging [reader], misogyny/sexism [slight], hospitals, sex [fingering (reader receiving) p in v (Hotch and reader) oral (implied reader)] dom!Aaron/praise kink [slight]. Use of pet names [love. Kitten, my girl].

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/c/e_’s = your color eyes

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

_y/c/e_ = your color eyes

_y/l/n_ = your last name

_y/h/t_ = your hair type

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

Aaron had been on over a hundred cases at this point in his career. He thought he had seen just about everything there was to see on a case. That was until the BAU headed out to New York City for the new case. In a city of 8.4 million, something big had to happen to get the attention of the massive police force or other authorities in the City that Never Sleeps. The eclectic death of eight people due to an ecstasy overdose in the dance club scene in the Bronx was strange enough to have the NYPD baffled and get the BAU involved. With over fifteen clubs covering the area, the police and other local law enforcement did their best to canvas the area, but had yet to find anyone. Similarly, finding the distributor of the drug was just as difficult for the New York Drug Enforcement Task Force due to the large amount so illegal uppers and downers that were handed out, bought, or stolen in the club scene every week. The team had debriefed the case in the conference room, gone over the lengthy victim’s list, and boarded the jet. During the short hour-long flight, the team tried to throw as much out on the table as possible. JJ and Emily were looking at the victims to see if there were any connections. Rossi and Aaron were thinking about priors while Emily thought about the varieties that the profile was showing and trying to cut any unnecessary leads or possibilities. Lastly, Spencer and _y/n_, the newest addition to the team, were looking at a map of the area where the attacks had taken place so far. The young duo also looked at similar clubs in that borough to see if there were connections in the locations. The pattern seemed to be that the first three attacks had happened in a cluster at the center of the club scene moving outward. There had been only one death at each club so far. Whether this pattern would hold was unknown, but so far it seemed like the unsub was staying consistent. Therefore, Spence and _y/n_ tried to think of the best place to canvas first. The duo debated the size of the clubs, the atmosphere, and the pricing to get into each establishment. They needed to narrow down the choices to four clubs so that the team not waste any time once they landed. The team tossed the proverbial ball around the cabin of the jet. Whenever any of the small groups needed a fresh perspective they would ask the other members of the team for their perspectives. This was one of the things that _y/n_ loved about the team. There was a fierce focus on each of the subgroups, but when help was needed or an important fact was noted, it was shared with the group. This way the team was up to date with everyone. The communication with the team always kept _y/n_ on her toes. It was like watching a basketball change hands midway across the court. One such example was when JJ said, “Just a reminder that the last two victims were underage. Jessica was nineteen and Lina-Lee was eighteen-years-old. Aaron and _y/n_ looked over the JJ and both said, “Got it.” Though it might seem like a curt response, there wasn’t time for extra words or thank you’s at the beginning of a case. At the start of a case, it was all thinking caps and coming up with a practical plan. That being said, the information was useful to both groups. Aaron turned to Rossi and softly said, “So the unsub doesn’t care about age. They’ve killed people ranging from eighteen to thirty-one. Rossi nodded and stated, “So it’s less likely that these killings are meant to target any certain group. Revenge becomes less of a factor and psychopathic tendencies are more likely.” “Right,” Hotch said as he added two more names of previous killers that better matched the new information. Similarly, _y/n_ and Reid started to look at clubs that seemed to have a reputation for letting in those who were below twenty-one.

_y/n_took a moment to look over the team. She was still surprised that she was here. Her hard work and dedication in the academy, plus an extensive amount of research on the BAU and criminal behavior had gotten her here. It didn’t hurt that Director Strauss had suggested to Aaron that he, Rossi, and the whole team find someone new to train after Gideon’s abrupt departure. She didn’t want the team to be caught off guard like that again. Like most things, Aaron was hesitant about the idea. However, he realized the practical need for what he had called, long before _y/n_ joined the team, a “spare” member. Hotch knew that sounded callous, but the dynamic of such a tight-knit group could so easily be tipped off balance by the edition of someone new. Because of this, he was less than enthusiastic. Nonetheless, some soul needed to be chosen. When word got out that the BAU might be looking to expand, the transfer requests came tumbling in. Hotch, JJ, and Rossi all looked over the files. Any of the agents were already well up the FBI ladder. Aaron said no instantly. “Too big personalities,” he’d said. There there hundreds of underqualified individuals. Rossi said no to those too. After a week of the search, JJ said in desperation, “Why not pick a N.A.T or a probie? I don’t think either of you is going to find what you want in these candidates. Hotch had balked at the idea, but Rossi, on the other hand, said, “Listen, it’s not a bad idea. We could build them from the ground up.” Hotch ran a hand through his hair and said, “We’re talking about a person here, Dave, not a dog.” Rossi shrugged and said, “Well I don’t think it’s a bad idea. Who was the one N.A.T. who had the gall to ask about the position?” J.J. handed over the file which Dave looked over. Aaron wasn’t convinced to try anything so unorthodox until he’d had about a half dozen failed interviews with other, older options. Finally, Aaron had given up and went with Rossi to watch the N.A.T.s during an exercise. _y/n_ had stood out clearly as having street smarts and practical know-how on the test case. When Rossi asked the instructor about her. It turned out _y/n_ had been the N.A.T. who had inquired about the position. Of course, the BAU hadn’t replied to her inquiry about the team, it would be bad form, but now that they were there, it didn’t seem like the craziest thing possible. After that, _y/n_ was kept under close observation by the BAU without her knowing. When the last month of the course came around, Aaron asked to meet with _y/n_. That conversation and what he was potentially offering her was the most stressful thing _y/n_ had ever been through. And when _y/n_ graduated near the top of her class, she got the placement of a lifetime, of a million lifetimes. There was praise and bitterness from her classmates, and _y/n_ took both in stride.

_y/n_ moved her eyes back to the map, as she almost got caught looking at Aaron for too long. It was hard for _y/n_ to believe that that had been over a year and three months ago that she joined the team. She had grown a great deal since then, but _y/n_ was aware that she still had growing to do. She was on the most accomplished team in the FBI. She’d be learning for the rest of her life from the team. Even though _y/n_ had been on the team for some time, she still stayed a bit reserved. In some ways, she doubted herself and considered that she might be removed if she made a big enough mistake. She also was aware of the dynamics of the team. She didn’t want to ruin what they had. Even so, _y/n_ had slowly integrated into the team. Learning s about each member. _y/n_ found herself drawn to Rossi, Emily, and Aaron most. There was something about their stoicism that resonated with her. Perhaps it was because they stayed the most quiet like her. That didn’t mean that _y/n_ didn’t want to know about them, in fact, it made the trio more interesting by their nebulous nature. _y/n_ was most interested in Aaron’s mercurial nature. He seemed to shift from hot to cold in an instant. But he was the best reader of emotions she’d ever seen. He seemed to know what she and the team were thinking even before they thought it themselves. _y/n_ knew, this was why he was the leader. Because he was so good at profiling people. _y/n_ tried to stay away from him, even a year later. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t interested, or more than slightly infatuated with him. However, _y/n_ had seen far prettier and talented women throw themselves at him and fail. She was not going to be one of them. _y/n_ felt a warm set of eyes on her form. She looked up ever so slightly to find Aaron’s brown eyes looking back at her. _y/n_ felt that flustered, stomach-tangled-in-knots type of feel that she had to walk out. _y/n_ cleared her throat and told Reid, “Gonna grab a c/t_, Spence? You want one?” Spencer smiled and said, “Sure, thanks.” _y/n_ stood, to get the drinks. She made sure to add, “I’ll put about five hundred sugars in yours.” Spencer let out a laugh and said, “Hey, Morgan gets to tease me about the sugar thing, but you put sugar is yours too.” _y/n_ rolled her eyes with a soft chuckle and moved to the back of the plane.

Hotch followed _y/n_ with his gaze. He had doubted the idea of having someone so inexperienced on the team. As it turned out, _y/n_ absorbed information like a sponge. Not only that, but she was willing to take critiques and grow from them. And heaven knew the first few months were filled with corrections and critiques. A weaker person would have dropped out. _y/n_ hadn’t. He had garnered respect for her for that. Not only respect but some admiration, as _y/n_ threw herself head in on cases that even the team was turned off by. Her sense of moral right and wrong seemed unshakable. It was rare to see that in a new agent. He wondered what had defined her code of ethics to such an extreme. In time, he hoped she would tell him. Aaron suspected that as quiet as _y/n_ was, she had picked up a lot about the team. Her silent observations he caught her in sometimes were both respectful and thoughtful. She never stared at anyone too long. But when she looked, she really looked. Like she was trying to solve some complex puzzle. And what was more complex than the BAU? Aaron couldn’t deny that when he felt her _y/c/e_s gaze on him, it didn’t elicit something in him. That hadn’t been something he’d felt originally, but it, whatever it was, had grown with time. The small or big feelings both Aaron and _y/n_ were harboring for each other would be blown wide open on Friday night.

The plane landed in NCY, and the team was instantly hit with five o’clock rush hour traffic. It took them a decent forty minutes to get to the precinct in the Bronx. It was Wednesday, and so far the murders had happened on consecutive weekends starting on Thursday to Sunday. If the pattern held, this would give the team one day to canvas the clubs before the weekend when another attack might occur. When the BAU did arrive at the station, they were met the the large hustle and bustle and chaotic energy. The precinct was so big it had little mini departments in the space, and for once there was room for the BAU to spread out and work without feeling cramped or in the way. _y/n_ looked around slightly overwhelmed. This was one thing that Aaron had noticed about _y/n_. When things were incredibly hectic he could see _y/n_ trying to overprocess everything at the same time. Hotch knew that not everyone was Reid, Not everyone could just take everything in all the time. Due to this, Hotch stepped closer to _y/n_. Whenever he did this, it seemed to ground her. He could tell that she paid more attention to him than her other surroundings when he was nearby. He would stick around _y/n_ until she had calmed down and the new environment became more relaxed. He didn’t do this to baby her. It was like when he told Morgan to calm down or Reid to stay on topic. He understood his team needed guidance and help now and then, and he was there to provide it. However, Hotch was not so stupid to not understand the effect he had on _y/n_. But that, like his growing feelings for _y/n_ was something he ignored. He knew that if he gave into those desires for his newest agent, he’d be like a man starved of affection. That was because he was a man starved of affection and he didn’t think _y/n_ needed that in her life right now. Once the team was in the room the department had given them, Hotch said, “Morgan can you close the door?.” As he said this, _y/n_ felt him move to her left. _y/n_ took in a very small, hopefully unnoticeable breath. The fact that _y/n_ was so drawn to her boss was concerning. But he seemed to get her better than some of the other members of the team. He always seemed to know when she needed a hand or a moment to decompress. _y/n_ appreciated this because she had been so unsure of her at the start of her journey at the BAU. How he acted around her now reassured her that he had some level of trust in her performance and contributions to the team. She had worked her butt off to get to this place and it was affirming to know it was paying off. _y/n_ took one second as the very slight scent of Aaron’s cologne drifted her way, as he set his file on the table near her. _y/n_ considered how Aaron’s affirmation was probably part of what made Hotch so attractive, She such little of that in her daily life that any was lapped up with a greedy desire. Albeit very much under the surface. _y/n_ would never say how even the hint of subtle praise from him made her knees weak. There was no time to interrogate that thought as Hotch said, “Alright, we need to put all our facts together, build a sketch of a profile, and then get a plan in place for the rest of the day. Everyone nodded along and started getting ready for a second debrief that normally happened once the team landed.

A half-hour later, after starting a profile, the teams split up into smaller groups. Aaron and JJ were heading to see the families of the victims to see if they could gather more about the victimology and build out the profile that way. _y/n_ and Derek were headed to the bars where the first four deaths had happened. They hoped to see if there were any details the police had missed and profile the staff at each establishment. Lastly, Emily and Spencer were headed to the hospital for more details from the coroners. Hotch and Em’s group took cars, but _y/n_ and Derek decided to walk as the nearest club was about a twenty-minute stroll away, and taking a car would just waste time. The first two clubs gleaned little information as the first two victims hadn’t died on the property's premises. The first had died at her girlfriend's house, and the second had passed in his parent's house. Both were found deceased the next morning. However, the third victim had died in the parking lot of the club she had been dancing in. The team expected that the dosage of drugs was increased for a faster death. Where the first two clubs had let _y/n_ and Morgan in easily, answered all of their questions, and showed remorse at the deaths that had happened, the third club, Club Rio, held a different atmosphere. The bouncer, a big burly man sighed once he saw the two professionals and asked, “Cops, Reporters, or others?” Morgan stepped forward saying, “FBI.” _y/n_ and Derek flashed their badges and the man’s eyes went wide in surprise for a second. He sighed and said, “Well at least it’s something different. Dan is getting annoyed by all the feds.” The man stepped aside and let them both into the building. As _y/n_ passed the man, she asked, “And Dan is?” The man replied to her back, “Owner.” _y/n_ nodded and followed Derek into the den.

_y/n_ was always surprised by just how small some club spaces were. The dance floor was just a small square with tables and couches in raised areas around the stage and a sunken floor. _y/n_ reflected that when she had been in her clubbing days, she had been inebriated, the writhing bodies around her had seemed normal and comforting even. Being surrounded on all sides, the other bodies had been like a buffer from the rest of the world and the loud music. Now that this case had come up, _y/n_ realized how vulnerable she had been on those occasions. How easy it could have been to take advantage of her, even if she thought he was being safe. With that somber thought, the duo approached the bar. The barista mixed drinks for the four early patrons. She looked at them and asked, “How can I help you?” Derek replied, “We need to speak to the manager or Dan if he’s here?” The bartender said, “Okay, give me a minute, Dan’s in the office upstairs.” It was clear the woman was so used to grabbing the owner at this point that she didn’t even ask to see any credentials. She slipped out from behind the bar, opened a door, and walked up a set of narrow stairs. Morgan leaned against the bar and looked over the space. _y/n_ was doing the same and a bright pink poster on the wall caught her attention. She moved over to it and realized it was outdated. It was from the night that the third victim had been found dead. It was an advert for A Barbie-themed night at the club. The poster didn’t match the dark interior at all. That was why it had stuck out. All the other posters were also for themed nights in the past and future. Rave Night, Emo Night, 00’s Night. Something clicked in _y/n_’s brain as she realized there might be another pattern here. Before _y/n_ could say anything, a lean, scrawny man emerged from the door with the barista. The man approached Derek and said, “What other questions could you possibly ask me that everyone else hasn’t already?” _y/n_ watched Morgan shift his weight from one foot to the other trying to decide if he should be stern or just take the flippant tone. As usual, Morgan just took it, through _y/n_ knew if pushed too hard, Derek could be provoked into a reaction. Morgan just said, “I’d like a list of patrons ID’d for the night that Sandra Klare passed.” Dan stilled, knowing that they didn’t card, saying, “Well our card reader is down right now. It might be a few days for us to get back to you, Mr…” “Morgan,” Derek offered. _y/n_ had moved closer to the pair and said, “That’s okay, just send it to us as soon as you can. You could also send over the security camera footage from inside the building and any from the back or parking lot.” Dan’s eyes snapped over to _y/n_ and then they took a far too long looking her over. His eyes rested on her chest as he stated, “Sure, I can get you those tapes, along with a drink if you want, miss…” _y/n_ cut him off and said, “It’s Agent, and I don’t drink of the job. Now tell me, how many minors do you think you let in every night because it’s clear to me that you're not carding which is a violation of state law.” Dan’s eyes snapped back up to her face, and he replied snappily, “You have no proof of that.” Derek scoffed and said, “Great, then you’ll have those ID lists over today. Now if you’d show us the spot where the victim was found, we’d appreciate it.” The next half hour was a bit tense and Dan glared at the FBI agents who looked over the space with a calculated eye.

When the team regrouped, everyone shared. JJ and Aaron had discovered that all of the victims had been mostly wallflowers. Kids and adults who kept to the background and wouldn’t normally be found in a club. Some of the parents and friends of the victims were shocked to find out those closest to them had died at or near a club. None of the victims had taken drugs before to their knowledge. This added a new angle to the type of people that were being targeted. Spencer had found that the dosage of ecstasy had been increased with each case, which was why the first few victims had died at home or outside of the club, and the last few had been in the parking lot or in the club itself. Emily said, “The unsub is escalating their kills. Probably because knowing someone is going to die isn’t enough now, they need to see the chaos that it causes. Morgan and _y/n_ shared last, noting how hesitant the last club was to give information. Derek added that the only places that didn’t seem to have cameras were the restrooms, but in a busy club, someone could get drugged anywhere. It was at this point that _y/n_ shared a theory saying, “I think there might be a pattern with the clubs that the unsub was picking each night.” Hotch looked over at her and said, “What is it?” _y/n_ averted her gaze from his and said, “Themed nights. The day the third victim died was a Barbie-themed night, and the second was an Emo Night I think. That might be why the victims were willing to go to the clubs in the first place. A normal club night might not be appealing to them, but if they were playing music they liked or had something that drew them to the club they might be willing to go.” Hotch nodded and said, “It’s a possibility.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed Garcia. He put her on speaker and when her chipper voice said, “You’ve reached the queen of fun and sparkles, how may I help you today?” Hotch held out the phone, and _y/n_ took it saying, “Penelope, can you get a schedule of themed nights at the clubs in the Bronx? Can it go back two weeks and then up through this weekend as well? Also, see if they match up with the dates of the first eight deaths?” Garcia’s classic long nailed key tapping ensued for a second before the tech said, “Give me one second, baby girl.” There was an anticipatory minute before Garcia said, “And the winner is _y/n_. Every night that a victim has died so far was a night with a club that was hosting a theme of some kind. Those often draw a younger crowd. I’m emailing over this weekend's schedule for the clubs that are hosting theme nights as well.” Hotch nodded and took his phone back, saying, “Thanks, Garcia. You’re the greatest.” The warm reply of “No good Sir, You are the greatest. Garcia out.” The subtle warmth that _y/n_ saw in Aaron’s eyes was rare, but when it was there, _y/n_ wished it would last forever. That he’d look at her with that kind of affection.

Rossi pulled her from her thoughts when he said, “We’d better give a profile now. If we hurry, we can get to some of the clubs before there’s a huge rush. We’ll need some officers to cover the other clubs that are on Garcia’s list.” Everyone agreed and moved outside to the main part of the precinct. Aaron called for the Chief of Police, Officer Jason. After delivering the profile and making a coordinated plan, the BAU was on the move again. Spencer had calculated the most likely clubs to be hit. Given that Rossi and Aaron were a bit too old to look natural in a club environment, they both decided to stay in support vans near the two clubs the BAU would watch that evening. Meanwhile, Emily, JJ, and _y/n_, and Spence and Derek would all be mic’d up and scout out the two clubs of premium interest. It was simple for Derek and Reid to get ready, just changing into simple t-shirts and jeans. Morgan added a leather jacket over his white shirt. But for the women, it was a bit more of an ordeal. Given that the victims were probably really into the theme nights, they wanted to match the victim's previous behavior. The subsub seemed to target women more, so it was more likely that they would go after Em, JJ, or _y/n_. The club that Prentiss and JJ would be scouting out was having a hippie-themed night, and both women sported bell bottoms. JJ added a headband and Emily found a crochet vest to wear. _y/n_ meanwhile was headed to a rave-themed night and needed a hand getting the complicated top on over her cropped long-sleeved shirt that covered everything that the over-shirt didn’t cover. As Emily tied the last of the bows at the back of _y/n_’s irradiant star top, she asked, “Did y’all ever imagine when you joined the FBI that we’d be playing dress up on a Thursday night?” JJ laughed at the statement and _y/n_ said, “Not that it didn’t cross my mind, I’m just more surprised that this precinct has these clothes on hand. You don’t think they’re from people that have been detained, do you?” Em dropped her hands and looked at _y/n_ when she turned and said, “Who knows? But the NYPD is the biggest police force in the States, maybe they bought them just in case of an occasion like this?.” _y/n__ nodded and looked over her colleagues and had to let out a small laugh saying, “Look at us.” JJ smiled and said, “Look at you _y/n_. You still pass as a college kid.” _y/n_ flushed and said, “Well it’s a blessing and a curse. The owner of one of the clubs today spent all day looking at my tits and ass. It’s not something I love. Gotta love being a woman in the FBI, right?” Em and JJ nodded. They’d all had their share of bad experiences being ogled by cops and citizens alike. The three of them moved out of the locker room they had all changed in.

Aaron, Rossi, Reid, and Morgan all looked over to them, along with the other plainclothes officers who would be scouting out the other clubs. The policemen were not as good at hiding their reactions at the lady's entrance as the BAU men were. Aaron took a moment to look at his watch to stop the flush on his face from becoming more prominent. He knew _y/n_ was a lovely woman, and her outfit only highlighted that fact. Again he reminded himself of the restraint he needed to have as her boss. He didn’t let his mind go there. It was 9:30 p.m. and the rush at the clubs was likely to start at 10:00 p.m. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “Alright, let’s head out. Remember, we check in every half hour, and if you see anything suspect, let Rossi or I know.” The agents nodded their agreement to the plan. The two teams split into their vans. Aaron was going to be overlooking Emily and JJ, and Rossi would take Reid, _y/n_, and Derek. Rossi dropped the trio off two blocks from Club Noir so it wasn’t obvious that undercover agents were present and looking over the club. This was _y/n_’s first time in an undercover position and she was thrilled and terrified at the same time. The inside of the club was so loud that the three of them had to scream to indicate which part of the club they would look after for the first half-hour shift. The trio had planned to change places after each check-in with Rossi to make sure they kept up with the flow of traffic and that nothing slipped them by. Derek’s first shift was by the bar, trying to notice if anyone seemed to be slipping drugs into the drinks of the patrons. Spencer was taking the outer perimeter of the club, looking at the groups clustered around tables and talking more leisurely, and _y/n_ took the dance floor. The sea of bodies felt claustrophobic and hot. It was hard to look at what was going on with those dancing. The looks of euphoria on the faces of the dancers who were so absorbed in the music were disturbing. It was hard to tell who might be under the influence of drugs and who wasn’t. _y/n_ strategically moved around the floor to try and get a good look at everyone there. This was hard work, and by the first half-hour check-in, _y/n_ was exhausted. She found her way to the back of the building near the bathrooms where it was less crowded. The team checked in with Rossi with nothing much to say.

The rest of the night seemed to go well until one a.m. when _y/n_ heard a scream come from the dance floor that pierced above the music. It was Derek’s time on the floor and the music and dancing came to an abrupt halt. By the time the lights were on and _y/n_ made it to the center of the floor there was a small crowd gathered including Spencer. Once _y/n_ saw the young woman on the ground seizing, she called 9-1-1 immediately to report the situation. Reid was talking to Rossi over comms and within moments cops were in the building and cordoning off the area. Derek was trying to get the woman into the recovery position. Meanwhile, _y/n_ was trying to calm the woman who had found the victim. The lady seemed almost as distressed as the woman on the floor. _y/n_ wondered if she was on any substances herself or if this was just shock. _y/n_ leaned down and said, “Hey, hey, I need you to take some deep breaths for me. Just calm down.” The short blond-headed woman nodded and tried to regain her breath. After a few minutes, _y/n_ pulled the woman aside to a cleared area of the club, _y/n_ flashed her badge at the woman and said, “What’s your name? Can you tell me what happened?” The woman sniffled before saying, “I’m Jeanie, King. I was just dancing and I noticed the woman next to me seemed to get agitated. I tried to talk to her but she seemed so absorbed in the music. I thought maybe she was okay, so I kept dancing, but when I looked over at her again she was on the ground. No one else seemed to notice, and a guy almost stepped on her face so I screamed. I didn’t know what else to do.” _y/n_ nodded and said in a reassuring tone, “You probably saved her life.” Though _y/n_ said this with sympathy, she was very weary of the woman in front of her. Jeanie seemed too composed after what she said. Her story too ordered. _y/n_ got the woman a glass of water before moving to help with crowd control as the paramedics and the other half of the BAU arrived. She stepped close to Hotch and he looked down at her asking, “What happened? Did you see anything? Derek and Spencer didn’t seem to pick anything up. _y/n_ sighed and said, “I didn’t see too much apart from the bartenders pouring heavy shots and some guys being handsy. I went to the lady's room a few times but there wasn’t anything suspect going on in there apart from a couple hooking up in one of the stalls.” Hotch nodded but could see that _y/n_ had more to say. He waited for a second before _y/n_ said, “The woman that noticed there was someone in trouble, something about her feels off.” _y/n_ looked over to Ms. King, and Aaron followed her with his eyes. The woman that _y/n_ was looking at was calmly sipping a glass of water, and he could tell why his agent might suspect the woman. Hotch moved his eyes back to _y/n_’s and he said, “Call Garcia and ask her to search the woman’s name. Let’s see if something comes up. We’ll be here all night anyway clearing everyone to go home.” _y/n_ nodded, pulled out her phone, and moved to call Penelope.

Aaron had been right about how long it was going to take. There were over ninety people in the club and every one of them needed to be searched, questioned, and then let go. Even with a lot of officers involved, it wasn’t until six forty-seven a.m. before everyone had been removed from the club. Three minors had been arrested for underage drinking, and five people were arrested for possession of drugs. One older man had ecstasy, but it was in pill form and not the liquid form that the hospital had identified with with first victims. Everyone was exhausted when they got outside. The scent of liquor lingered on them all, and Hotch said, “Let’s get two hours of sleep and then we’ll debrief after that. He could see the exhaustion in everyone’s eyes, and he felt it in his own. The team silently left the club to the hands of the police officers. As _y/n_ stopped at the door, she turned around. The club, with all of the overhead lights on, looked like the end of a play with all the props and litter still on the stage. The stagehands were too exhausted to pick up any of the trash post the last show. Red Solo Cups and beer bottles dotted the tables and floor. The scene looked sad now. It was hard to believe that hours earlier people had been so careless here. A deep voice called _y/n_, and she turned her head. It was Hotch. He stood in the doorway, bathed in the rising sun. It took a moment for _y/n_ to register that he’d asked if she was okay. _y/n_ shook her head ever so slightly to clear it of the fog and exhaustion before moving toward the team Leader. She tried to smile and said, “I’m fine. Sorry. Just thinking.” Hotch gave a small nod and kept the door open until she was outside and trailing Morgan down the road to the vans. He watched her retreating form. _y/n_ had taken off the potentially revealing top that had caught his eye the moment she had left the changing room with Emily and JJ. She was now wearing a jacket on top of the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing. He had beaten himself up on the van at how captivated he had been when seeing her in such an outfit. He knew he’d ordered her into it and the fact that his restraint was that weak eat at his morality like rust on iron. Hotch often asked himself if he was a good man. And _y/n_ seemed to push that question in a direction he had never considered before. He let the thought drop, and he moved to the van as well. He made sure not to get into the car with _y/n_. He needed a few moments to think without her face or soft voice digging deeper into his psyche.

The two hours at the hotel were short lived with most members of the team taking a shower and then getting a bite to eat. As the team ambled out of the vans, _y/n_ took a second to stretch her arms and roll her neck, outside the precinct. She didn’t want to seem unprofessional in front of the officers. She didn’t want to seem unprofessional with the team either, but the ache in her arms and neck needed to be alleviated somehow, and she didn’t see anyone ready to give out back rubs at the moment. _y/n_ let out a soft chuckle at the idea and Emily asked, “What are you laughing about?” It wasn’t an accusation by Prentiss. Emily knew that _y/n_ was taking this case as seriously as all of them were. But everyone needed a moment of levity, especially after a new victim had been found. _y/n_ dropped her arms and said, “Oh just thinking about how my clubbing days are way behind me. Dancing for two hours last night was so hard on my feet, I’m gonna be sore for a week at least.” Morgan chipped in saying, “Well at least you looked natural out there. Did you see Reid?” At that, Em, Morgan, JJ, and _y/n_ had a small, good-natured laugh at Spencer’s less-than-coordinated dancing ability. ‘Hey,” Reid said, “It’s not my fault there’s not a good rhythm to that music.” The playful banter subsided as the team moved inside. Hotch was the last to move into the building and for a moment, he felt left out from the ability to just laugh and joke around like the rest of his younger agents. He knew it was stupid, so he let it go like he let most small things go in his life. In the room the team had taken over, the group moved around restlessly talking. Emily said, “Honestly, we could have had a hundred police officers in our club and someone might have still died.” _y/n_ nodded along and said, “Our team had a good system. We were constantly monitoring and checking in and someone still died.” Rossi could hear the frustration in _y/n_’s voice and chipped in, saying, “The problem is, the clubs are the killers hunting ground. Unless the unsub starts killing elsewhere, that is the most consistent thread we have.” Aaron added, “What makes it difficult is the amount of people we have to try and profile, and the fact that the ecstasy is given in liquid form. It could be slipped in someone’s drink, or shot up, or given in a load of other ways and the victim might not know until it’s far too late.” The Chief of Police, who was unhappy with the BAU’s performance so far had joined them and said, “Well we could end this right now by closing the clubs for public safety for a few weeks.” hotch nodded his head no and said, “That’s not going to do any good. If you cut off the unsub's normal pattern they’ll likely move to another space and we’d have to rebuild the profile again. Either that or they just wait until the clubs open up again. Both ways result in the unsub continuing to kill people.” The Chief of Police raised his hands and asked, “Would he just give up after a while?” Morgan looked over to the man and said, “No. This person needs the validation that killing gives them. The feeling of power or control.” Officer Jason sighed and said, “Well what do we do going forward? Tonight’s the busiest night the clubs see, and although a killer is on the loose, people are still flocking to them.” Hotch looked at the man and the with authority he held, replied, “We use the profile. We add the new data, speak to the latest victim, and keep looking. The unsub has to know that we’re onto them, especially after last night. We, or one of your officers likely met them. So they’ll probably change something tonight, or get sloppy. We can add more officers in the clubs which will push them even further.” Jason nodded and said, “Won’t that mean that it’s more likely that someone dies?” Aaron nodded but said, “It is, but that’s why my team is here. To make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

The rest of the day passed by slowly. Spencer and _y/n_ went to the hospital to see McKensie, the latest victim. The pair were led to the back of the hospital. The woman had previously been in restraints but had settled down after receiving specialized care by the hospital staff. _y/n_ sat down next to her bedside and said, “McKensie, can you tell me what you remember from last night?” The woman turned her eyes to _y/n_ and Reid and said, “I don’t remember a lot. I didn’t take anything intentionally I swear. I just like the music they play on rave night. I just felt hot all of a sudden and the lights started acting funny and I got so hot. Before I knew it, I was on the ground and I couldn’t move.” McKenzie closed her eyes before saying, “My mom’s gonna kill me when she finds out what happened.” _y/n_ smiled sympathetically and said, “I’m sure she’ll understand. Thank you for speaking with us, McKensie.” Spencer stepped forward and set his card on the table saying, “If you remember anything else, please give us a call.” The woman nodded and the pair left the room. Outside of the hospital, Spencer asked, “Why would you keep going back to a place where you know you might die? Why take the risk?” _y/n_ looked at Reid. What she was thinking might rub against his problems with drugs, and she was hesitant to speak her mind. Reid could sense this and he said, “You can say what you’re thinking you know? I see you hold back sometimes on the jet or a case. But your thoughts are useful, or at least they let us think about things from a new angle.” _y/n_ looked at him and replied, “Thanks for telling me that Spencer. What I was thinking was that whenever anyone takes drugs it’s putting their lives on the line. That risk is worth it to them until they realize what it might mean. I understand that feeling. It’s just terrible that that choice was stripped from the victims.” Reid nodded and said, “Do you think the unsub is a user?” _y/n_ shrugged and said, “I don’t know. If they’re as calculated as we think they are, then I don’t think they can be.” Spencer nodded and they kept talking about the case until they arrived back at the precinct.

The sun dipped below the tall buildings. and the team got ready to go out again. Penelope had developed a new list and Aaron hoped that the unsub wasn’t going to change their pattern now. He did decide to change who was with whom in each club. The team was canvasing two clubs like last night. One was bigger and the other was smaller. Aaron assigned JJ, Derek, and Spencer to the bigger club with Rossi. He, Emily, and _y/n_ would take the smaller club. Rossi suggested that he and Aaron also go inside the club with the team. Dave said, “Listen, if there are already going to be lots of officers in uniform there we might as well be there too.” Hotch couldn’t argue that logic and agreed. He knew that he and Dave would be more useful to the team inside than out. Because everyone was going in, they all took a few minutes to get dressed. Everyone was a bit more reserved that night. The themes were Disco night and Emo night, so all it took was bright or dark colors. The team was more somber this time, especially _y/n_. The prospect of going undercover again just didn’t have the same rush as last night. Aaron, Emily, and _y/n_ all entered Club Drake at staggered times. Aaron decided to get to the highest spot he could that would give him the best look over the space. He found a dark corner and leaned back with a beer in his hands that would never get touched. Emily took the first shift at the bar and _y/n_ moved onto the dance floor. Everyone looked for anything that matched the profile. Someone young and confident. Someone looking to prey on those that showed vulnerability or stayed in the background. The strobe lights overhead made it hard for _y/n_ to see much else than the pulsing bodies around her. If _y/n_ looked hard, she could see Aaron in the corner of her eye, but she avoided her gaze because it was hard enough to dance and look for odd behavior while also dancing and not looking like her body was aching from the effort. Meanwhile, Hotch watched from above. He could see the club almost in its entirety. He understood now how hard it had been for his team last night. No wonder they hadn’t been able to see much. Aaron tried to pinpoint his members in the swell below. He could find Emily easily, she was hanging around the bar and hallway to the bathroom. It was harder to pinpoint _y/n_ on the dancefloor, but when the light was slightly brighter between songs, he caught a flash of her moving her body to a beat so loud it hurt his ears. He could see she was talking to someone on the floor, but there was no humanly possible way for him to hear the conversation. The song changed and a man seemed to approach _y/n_ She seemed to nod and then they began dancing to the new song close together. Closer together than she needed to. Hotch had to drag his eyes away. He knew _y/n_ knew what she was doing, but seeing her so close to so many people put a pit in his gut that he felt when things were stressful. It didn’t help with his heightened feelings for _y/n_. But he had a job to do, and he was going to do it to the best of his ability and no unwanted feelings were going to get in the way of that.

The night continued on and on with Emily and _y/n_ changing roles twice and Hotch brushing off a few people asking him if he wanted a drink above the din of the music. They continued to check in with each other. Despite their careful watch, no one stood out to the team or the police officers who had been briefed on what to look for. _y/n_ moved from the floor to the bar. To look convincing, _y/n_ went to grab and drink. When she got to the front of the line, _y/n_ quickly scanned those sitting and watching the football game and the hallway to the bathroom. She had passed Emily as they swapped roles and Prentiss nodded her head no, indicating that she hadn’t seen anything. _y/n_ returned the gesture. _y/n_ snapped to the present when the bartender said, “What do you want sweetheart apart from standing there in a daze?” _y/n_ cleared her throat and said, “A tonic with cranberry juice, please.” The man nodded and grabbed a tall glass, filling it with ice. The man sitting at the bar said, “You not drinking tonight, babe? You should lighten up or something.” _y/n_ shot him a frown but an oddly familiar voice said, “He’s right you know. You looked just as fake on the floor today as you were last night.” _y/n_ whipped her head around to try and find who had spoken to her. It was hard to tell with the crowd, but a short blond-haired woman was moving quickly toward the back exit and _y/n_ swiftly wove her way between those waiting in line and those dancing. Agent _y/n_ stumbled out of the exit almost out of breath. She looked down the dark alleyway but saw no one. But who she was looking for was behind the door, and when the heavy metal door swung closed, _y/n_ found this out. Jeanie, who had found McKensie yesterday said, “You do need to loosen up, Agent,” as she stepped forward and plunged a needle into _y/n_’s neck. The move had happened so quickly that _y/n_ took a second to push the woman away from her and pull the needle out of her neck. _y/n_’s eyes flashed to the empty syringe and then to Jeanie. She tried to move forward, but the ground seemed to sway a bit. _y/n_ looked at the unsub and said, “What did you give me?” Jeanie smiled maliciously and said, “Well nothing that bad yet. Just relax a bit and I’ll give you something really fun in a minute. _y/n_ tried to get away but fell over her feet and onto the pavement. The world was spinning and once she was on the ground, she tried to pull for her coms. The unsub watched as _y/n_ helplessly and openly took out a mic from her shirt. The woman leaned down and stomped on the device, smashing it to smithereens. _y/n_ watched helplessly as Jeanie pulled something from an inner pocket and said, “I think we’re going to have some real fun tonight.”

Inside the club, Aaron had lost track of _y/n_ when she and Emily had switched places. He didn’t see her anywhere and it was starting to bother him, but it was only five minutes until they would check in and he was sure she was just checking the lady's room or something. He continued to look around until his watch hit 12:30 a.m. He switched on his coms and checked in with Prentiss. He could see her look up at him for a second from the side of the bar. She said, “Still nothing. At least it’s not so busy right now.” Hotch nodded and said, “Okay, well keep a look out. I haven’t seen anything from here either.” He took a breath and said, “Have you seen _y/n_? I lost her a few minutes ago at the bar.” There was a second of static before Emily said, “I don’t see her. Have you tried her com?” Emily was looking at him now from down below and he shook his head no. Aaron switched to _y/n_’s channel and he asked, “_y/n_, are you there?” There was only static. Hotch tried twice more, but there was still nothing. _y/n_ wasn’t one to miss a check-in. Even though there was no direct reason to panic yet, the bad feeling Hotch radioed Em again asking, “Could you check the lady's room? She’s not answering.” Emily shot him a nod and moved toward the bathroom. Hotch continued to scan the area with no luck in finding _y/n_. Aaron now kept his eyes trained on the hallway to the bathroom hoping that _y/n_ would emerge with Emily. Maybe even with that small smile, she gave him on the rare occasion when she knew no one was looking at her but him. That wasn’t the case, however. Five minutes later, Prentiss returned alone and said over the radio. “She wasn’t in there Hotch. I don’t know where she would have gone without telling us.” Aaron clenched his jaw and looked over the dance floor again. Something seemed to be off in the center of the floor.

Amid all the dancing people a lone figure, a familiar figure stood transfixed, looking at the lights coming from the ceiling. “Aaron called Emily and said, “I found her, but something’s wrong. She’s in the middle of the floor, but she’s not moving. See if you can get to her. I’m coming down.” Hotch moved as quickly as he could away from the corner and down the stairs without causing a scene or a panic. Hotch and Em got to _y/n_ about the same time. It was clear to both of the agents that something was wrong with _y/n_ immediately. _y/n_ was swaying to the deafening music. Aaron moved to face her and noticed the glassy blown-out pupils along with the profuse amount of sweat pouring from her face. Emily shouted, “_y/n_. What happened?” _y/n_ lazily turned her face toward her colleague and said, “I don’t know. Don’t you see the colors, though? So pretty.” Aaron knew that _y/n_ was in a world of her own now. If _y/n_ had been drugged with ecstasy what she was seeing or hearing was nothing like what he and Emily were. _y/n_ pulled at the neckline of her shirt and said, “Why’s it so hot in here?” Hotch could barely hear her above the noise. When _y/n_ swayed forward on her feet and toward him, he caught her in his arms. She was slick with sweat and he half lead, half dragged his agent to the side of the floor. Many of the patrons were looking at them now. The people at the edge of the floor made space for Hotch to lay _y/n_ down. She was panting now and Aaron called out to Emily saying, “Get every cop in here to not let anyone go. Call an ambulance and stop the music as fast as you can.” Emily nodded and ran away toward the first officer she saw. Hotch didn’t pay much attention to anything else as he focused solely on _y/n_ She was coughing now and her breath was coming in too fast for her to get proper oxygenation. Hotch called to a concerned-looking onlooker to hold down _y/n_’s arms and another to hold her legs. He said it with such authority that neither people he enlisted could refuse him. Once _y/n_ was held still from thrashing around, he took hold of her head and made sure her mouth was open to breathe better. During the chaos, the lights turned on and the music stopped. There was chatter and movement from nearby, but Aaron couldn’t afford to notice it. Emily was back at his side and said, “Ambulance is on the way. ETA five minutes.” Hotch nodded and replied, “Good. Get someone to bring over a bucket of ice. She‘s overheating and we’ve got to get her temperature down.” Prentiss nodded and ran off again. Aaron wiped away a strand of drool from her mouth and said, “Hold on, _y/n_. Just hold on a few minutes more.” By the time a bartender came with ice, _y/n_ seemed so far away from him. Emily asked, concerned, “Where do you want the ice, Hotch.” Aaron took a breath and said, “Pour it over her chest, groin, and neck. Let’s hope it cools her down. All he could do now was wait for the ambulance to arrive. That took what felt like hours. Hotch was grateful that Emily was there to control the flow of traffic, and equally grateful when the rest of the team arrived.

When the paramedics arrived, Aaron allowed himself to lean forward for a second into the pool of ice water that had melted off of _y/n_’s overheated body. He only allowed himself a second thought as he, Derek, and Emily followed the stretcher holding _y/n_ out and toward the waiting ambulance. One of the paramedics asked, “What’s happened to her? Is this another one of those druggings?” Aaron nodded his head and replied, “I believe so. She was out of it when I found her and struggling to breathe.” The paramedic nodded and said, “It could be an overdose depending on how much she was given.” The two men efficiently lifted the stretcher into the transport vehicle and Hotch asked, “May I ride with her? I’m a federal agent and so is she?” He flashed his badge, and the man he was talking to nodded saying, “You can take the crash seat, just stay back while we work.” Aaron agreed and watched with concern as the doors to the ambulance were closed and it started to move. _y/n_ was manipulated like a doll as an oxygen mask was put over her face. Hotch looked at the metal floor as the medic cut open her shirt to place a cooling blanket over her chest. It wasn’t a long ride to the hospital and that, Hotch was grateful for. They took _y/n_ back into the ER while he moved to the front of the hospital. He called the team and gave them the update, and he asked for the same. Rossi replied, “We have everyone from the club still here and we’re looking over everyone, but Reid and Em want to wait with you. Would it be alright to get more officers over here and let them go?’ Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Yeah. That’s fine. The one positive thing about this is that she saw the unsub. That’s if she makes it out of this and if she has any memory of what happened before she was drugged.” Dave heard the soft desperation in Hotch’s voice. He wasn’t surprised. He’d seen Aaron’s slow transformation around _y/n_ over the last year. It wasn’t surprising to him that an event like this would pull out Aaron’s proactive instincts. To reassure his friend, Rossi said, “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Aaron. She’s a tough one, just give it time.” Hotch let out a sigh but knew Rossi was right. He wrapped up the call and then moved inside for the vigil that would last until someone from the hospital gave him news or Spencer and Prentiss arrived. He checked his phone and saw missed calls from Garcia, and a text from JJ saying that she was headed over as well. Aaron ignored these things for just a moment and sat with the anxiety that _y/n_ being targeted had done to him. He’d have to face the feelings eventually and he figured he might as well start on them now.

The time passed, and the team members who could come and sit with him did. To keep his mind from wandering, he spoke with the team about the case and how they could update the profile now that one of them had been drugged. It was Spencer who mostly answered his questions and even took some notes. Even with that being the case, Hotch couldn’t keep pretending and he and Reid lapsed into silence. Another half hour later, a doctor appeared. The group stood up and approached the man. The doctor’s name tag read. Dr. Piatte. The man held a clipboard in front of him and he said, “The patient, Ms. _y/l/n_ is almost stabilized now. She was given a pretty high dose of ecstasy for her size along with another depressant. Now that her vitals, temperature, and breathing have all leveled out, all we can do is make sure she’s comfortable until the drugs leave her system. Everyone nodded and Aaron asked, “Is she awake? Could someone sit with her while she’s detoxing?” Dr. Piatte looked at him and said, “Ms. _y/l/n_ is conscious, but not lucid. She’s said a few words here and there, but none of it has made much sense. If you’re hoping to talk to her, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Hotch shook his head no and replied, “I’m not interested in getting answers for anything. I was just wondering if one of us might sit with her. To keep her company. Maybe she would be more relaxed if one of us was there.” The greying man thought for a second, before saying, “I don’t mind if one of you sits with her. Just don’t excite her and only one of you can be in her room. She’s in a highly suggestible state mentally and she needs as much peace as possible.” The team understood and Emily, JJ, and Spencer looked at Hotch, understanding that he wanted to be with _y/n_ but not sure how to say that. JJ broke the silence by saying, “Why don’t you sit with her, Hotch? The rest of us can go back to the club and help the others out. We’ll send you updates about over there, and you can keep us informed about anything that happens here?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Okay, thanks JJ. Is that alright with you Em, Reid?” Both agents nodded their heads. Aaron bowed his head for a second before saying, “Thank you. I’ll send you an updates regarding _y/n_. With that conversation, Aaron followed the doctor back to _y/n_’s room. He realized that he was being overly protective of _y/n_ and that the team might have noticed it, but he didn’t have the energy to worry about that right now. JJ had thankfully saved any awkwardness in that area and he reminded himself that he’d have to thank her once they were back home. He’d need to thank the whole team for their hard work. Anytime one of the team got hurt on a case, he was reminded how dedicated everyone was, and he needed to highlight that more often. But for now, he only had a mind for _y/n_. When he stepped into the hospital room, Aaron’s eye fell on _y/n_. Her face was still flushed and the closer he got to her bedside, the more he realized how uncomfortable she still might be, even now that she was in a hospital bed and on Benzodiazepines. He watched as _y/n_’s eyes traced patterns on the ceiling where none were to be found. Similarly, _y/n_’s hands tapped out a rhythm that he couldn’t hear, some music only accessible in the recesses for her drudged mind. Hotch sat down and contemplated just how vulnerable _y/n_ looked. He’d never seen her this way before and it made him uncomfortable in the way that he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Like watching a car crash. But this was less than the crash and more of watching the fire slowly die down to a more relaxed state. As the minutes ticked by, _y/n_ seemed to relax and so did he.

An hour later, Aaron had almost fallen into a half-sleep, when _y/n_’s body jerked slightly and she made a sound that Hotch couldn’t quite identify. He watched as _y/n_continued to move in the bed softly and her hands gripped the sheets in a way that he thought might be indicative of discomfort. Aaron got up to get a nurse to see if _y/n_ needed help, but when she called out his name in a breathy half-sigh half-moan, he stopped in his tracks. When _y/n_ said, “Don’t stop, God don’t stop, Aaron,” Hotch turned on his heel and looked at _y/n_ from a distance. He noticed now the rhythm of her hips moved in a way that might indicate an intimate moment was happening. _y/n_’s expression which he had taken as pain at first was full of ecstasy, and not the drug that had been pushed on her. He watched as her breath picked up and her body moved until finally, she let out a soft cry, with her body shaking for a moment and then collapsing fully back on the bed. When _y/n_’s body was flushed with the bed and she had caught her breath after what had been an apparent climax in her dream, she said, “So good, Aaron.” Hotch was at a true loss for what to do. _y/n_ seemed to be relaxed, but now that he’d witnessed her dreaming about him, dreaming in a way that had given her release, he felt like he’d witnessed something highly personal and something that he was sure _y/n_ wouldn’t want to have seen. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but be surprised and slightly flattered that she should think of him that way. He felt his core tingle at how she’d called out his name, how her face had looked at the height of her dream. Not only was his mind thinking, against his better judgment, about how lovely she had looked during release, but his lower body started to get similar ideas.

Hotch felt his cock begin to harden and internally said, “Shit.” He shouldn’t be here, not like this. Not feel this way when _y/n_ had no agency right now. He was going to attempt to leave again but as he turned a second time, _y/n_ called his name again, this time it was clearer. He turned and saw her looking at him. Her eyes were clearer now. Still a bit glassy, but not so far away. _y/n_ spoke again saying, “Hotch, you’re here?” Aaron let out a breath and approached her bed, pulling a chair up near her and saying, “Yeah. I’m here.” _y/n_ blinked a few times and replied, “You’ve never been here after a dream like that before. It’s so strange.” Hotch shifted closer. He realized that she was still not fully herself He brushed a strand of her _y/h/t_ away from her face and he couldn’t help himself from asking, “What type of dreams? What do you mean, _y/n_.” _y/n_ softly pulled the palm of his hand into hers and said, “Don’t you know? You’re there for all of them. You’re being funny today, Aaron.” Hotch quickly moved and held onto _y/n_’s shoulders as she tried to sit up fully. He tsked and said, “Hey, now. Just relax you’re in the hospital, _y/n_. I need you to relax or I’ll have to get a nurse.” Hotch knew he should get a nurse anyway, but once that happened the moment would be ruined and some selfish part of him that had longed for _y/n_ had him ask, “What are you trying to do? Where do you think you’re going, agent?” _y/n_ stilled at his final word and looked at him, saying, “I just want to put my head in your lap. Please, just for a minute. It’s always so warm and cozy.” Aaron flushed darker because this must have been something that had happened in one of her dreams because he’d never let her rest her head in his lap before. That wasn’t something even he’d dreamed about with _y/n_, and he’d had plenty of dreams with _y/n_ in the staring role before. His cock twitched in his pants comfortably, so he moved his mind back to _y/n_ who was leaning dangerously forward. He tried to gently get her to relax back onto the bed, and he said, “You need to relax, _y/n_. You shouldn’t be sitting up.” Non-lucidly she replied with a little laugh, “I’ll lay down if it’s on your lap.” Hotch was at a crossroads, he knew that MDMA could make its users very suggestible and overly sexual. He couldn’t know if this was what she wanted. But _y/n_ continued to insist and kept trying to sit up and be close to him. Finally, after the fifth time of her getting up again, Aaron moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He knew he could call a nurse, but that would most likely mean that _y/n_ got strapped to the bed and would be uncomfortable for the next few hours. So he compromised and let her place her head on his thigh. She relaxed immediately once her head was settled. It was a shocking departure from her jittery movement from before. And that was how Aaron ended up in a position he could never have imagined. He couldn’t have predicted any case that would lead to his moral quandary, and it only got more morally grey from there.

Hotch shifted his hips the slightest bit and that did not help him. _y/n_’s head was fully in his lap now, and he knew it shouldn't be. When she was settled, _y/n_ started describing some of her dreams. Dreams about him. About him naked and doing things to her while _y/n_ was also naked. _y/n_ described them in detail. The words had made Aaron's cock twitch in his pants. As _y/n_ set her head in his lap and breathed over his groin, he hardened fully again. Aaron knew _y/n_ wouldn't be saying these things if it wasn't for the drugs. _y/n_ was a hard worker, a reserved agent, and he shouldn’t be doing this. Yet here he was, and _y/n_ was almost purring with contentment. Hotch took a stabilizing breath and said, “You’re like a kitten like this.” _y/n_ nuzzled her head into his lap further and said half asleep again, “I’ll be your kitten if you want, Hotch.” Aaron bit back a groan and endured the torture of _y/n_ being so close to his erect member without any option to do anything. From her description of her dreams, _y/n_ would love to take care of the need pressing against the fly of his pants, but she was incapacitated and not in her full mind. Hotch did his best to stay still and try and picture anything else but the lurid details of _y/n_’s dreams. Eventually, she slipped off into what seemed to be a deeper sleep. Once Aaron made sure her breath was even, he slipped off of the bed and made sure _y/n_’s face was resting on the pillow before he made a quick retreat to the nearest bathroom. He moved to the sink and felt about as hot as _y/n_ had looked at the club. He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face and the back of his neck. He walked around the small space for a few moments just thinking about the case and nothing but the case. In a few minutes he’d managed to calm his erection, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with all that last night had revealed. Aaron moved back to the reception area to give himself some space from _y/n_. One positive was that it was unlikely that _y/n_ would remember anything that she’d said or did the previous night. He pulled out his phone and called Emily to see what the team was currently doing. Prentiss picked up on the first ring and said, “Hey Hotch. How’s _y/n_ holding up?” Aaron flushed but managed to say, “She’s… she’s doing better. Still a little out of it, but not as bad as two hours ago.” Emily didn’t comment on his long pause and waited for Hotch to continue. Aaron took a second to think about how to word his request and said, “Would you be willing to switch spots with me? I’d like a fresh look at the scene and profile, and you know how I feel about hospitals.” There was a pause before Em said, “Sure, Aaron. I’ll just tell the team and then head over. Be there in about twenty minutes.” Aaron breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her before hanging up. Hotch didn’t want _y/n_ to wake alone, but he didn’t think it would be a great idea if it was him she woke up to. It might result in an awkward moment that _y/n_ didn’t need right now.

A few minutes later, Emily showed up and she filled Aaron in on what he’d missed and how the team was back at the precinct. She noticed how odd he was behaving, but didn’t ask him about it. Aaron was a mystery that she still hadn’t cracked yet, but if it was something important, she knew he’d tell her or ask for help. So she gave him a pat on the shoulder and watched as he left the building before being led back to _y/n_’s room by a nurse. Emily sat on a chair and watched _y/n_ sleep for an hour. At around seven a.m. _y/n_ shifted on her side and opened her _y/c/e_’s. They were red and sore looking, but they were back to normal and Emily leaned forward asking, “Hey, _y/n_. How are you feeling?” _y/n_ coughed but managed to say, “I’m okay. I know who did it. Who the unsub is.” Emily nodded and gave the woman on the bed a paper cup of water. _y/n_ took a small sip and said, “It’s Jeanie King. The woman who found the last victim. She led me to an alley and I was dumb enough to follow her.” Prentiss nodded and said, “It’s okay, _y/n_. Let me just text the team that information. You just relax and I’ll call a nurse to see how you’re doing.” _y/n_ gave a small nod and looked up at the ceiling tiles. When Emily was done with her phone, _y/n_ looked back at her with a little smile which Prentiss returned. _y/n_ said, “I’m glad it’s you here Em. I had some really lucid dreams during the night and I feel like I said some very private stuff. So how bad was it? What did it say.” Emily stilled for a moment and realized, perhaps, why Hotch was so different when she’d seen him. Emily cleared her throat and opted for honesty, saying, “Well I didn’t hear you say anything, _y/n_ but I wasn’t the one here all night.” _y/n_’s eyes went wide and she asked softly, “Who was here, Em?” Prentiss bit her tongue before saying, “Hotch.” _y/n_ covered her face with her hands and said, “Oh my God, kill me, Emily. If I said any of those things to him I’m going to jump out of the jet.” Prentiss sympathized and patted _y/n_’s shoulder saying, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, _y/n_. Even if it was, you were drugged, you couldn’t have helped yourself from saying stuff,” _y/n_ just groaned in reply, still covering her eyes. Emily called for the nurse to hope that some distraction would ease her discomfort.

The case didn’t take long to wrap up now that _y/n_ had identified the unsub. The hospital released _y/n_ a day later and Jeanie King was found in another club the next night looking for yet another victim. The woman was disturbed and believed she was doing a great service to those she had drugged. She thought she was letting them experience a good life and time. A life that she had not experienced until she had started taking harder and harder drugs. The tough life and expectations of her home had sent her into a downward spiral. In all, it was a pretty cut-and-dry case, except for the place where the killings happened. To have it be so open and public an arena. When _y/n_ was back on her feet, the team left for home. When _y/n_ saw Aaron for the first time, he very quickly averted his eyes and she noticed him flush, and that was all she needed to know that she’d said something inappropriate to him while he had been with her in the hospital. Aaron didn’t get flustered, nothing ever flustered him, so his response was enough. To his credit, Hotch recovered more quickly than _y/n_ as he, like the rest of the team asked how she was doing. _y/n_ was flustered but tried to play it off like she didn’t need all the attention. She moved as far away from Hotch as possible because she still didn’t know the extent of what she’d said to him. If it was what she remembered, it was bad. The team glanced between the two who normally were pretty close but suddenly weren’t. Only Emily had an idea of what had happened and attempted to bridge the awkward silence in the cabin by asking Spencer a question about the case. Reid jumped at the chance to talk about famous female poisoners. This helped the team breathe, but even so, _y/n_ hardly looked at Aaron during the hour-long trip home.

The team hoped that whatever was happening between _y/n_ and Hotch would go away quickly. But even two weeks after they were back, there was still an awkwardness between them. They worked fine, but the dynamic had shifted, and not for the better. Finally, Rossi and Emily were over the drama and both went to Aaron on the same day to ask him to make it right, or to at least talk to _y/n_. Dave was straight to the point, reminding Aaron that he was the leader of this team and he needed to lead right now. Emily was a bit more nuanced and entered his office near the end of the day. He looked up from his desk and asked, “What is it, Em?” Prentiss smiled and said, “You know you’re not bad for what happened at the hospital, right?” Aaron’s dark eyes flashed to hers and he knew she wasn’t just talking about the fact that _y/n_ had gotten hurt. He slowly said, “I feel like I used her. I should have left when she started talking about that stuff.” Emily shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t know if I was in that position and I was spilling my heart out I’d rather not be saying that to an empty room or a nurse that doesn’t care.” Aaron clenched his jaw and said, “She was sharing more than just her heart, Emily.” Em sighed and said, “Well you’re free to feel that way, but you need to do something about it. Either apologize or tell her you feel for her too, because it’s not working right now and you know it. And just for your information, she feels just as bad about saying that stuff to you as you feel about listening to it.” Prentiss didn’t let him make any excuses or try to avoid the real issue, that _y/n_ had shared her feelings and he needed to respond to them in some way. Either positively or with rejection, he had to make up his mind for the sake of his team, but even more for _y/n_’s sake. Hotch sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. His team was right and he wasn’t going to be a coward and just let things fester between _y/n_ and himself. He’d talk to _y/n_ tonight, about what he was going to say, he wasn’t sure, but he was going to say something.

It was seven p.m. and dark outside the Quantico field office. The bullpen was empty except for _y/n_. Aaron knew _y/n_ was a hard worker, but after the incident in NYC, she’d stayed later and later. She stayed until after he’d left the office for the last week. He wasn’t sure if this was her punishing herself for what she’d admitted, or just an attempt to not have to be in a confined space with him like the parking garage or the elevator. But Aaron wasn’t going to let that happen tonight. Tonight he was driving her home. This would give them time and space to talk about what they needed to. It would also ensure an endpoint to the conversation once they arrived at _y/n_’s apartment. Hotch stood up from his desk chair and packed his briefcase before moving outside his office and locking the door behind him. _y/n_ looked up at Aaron as he moved down the stairs. She let out a sigh because once he was out the door she could go home too. But Aaron didn’t do his normal hand raise and “See you tomorrow _y/n_.” Nope. He was walking over to her, and _y/n_ shifted in her seat a bit. She pulled a file in front of her to look like she was working, even though she’d finished a half-hour ago. _y/n_ looked up at him and tried to act cool. She knew it had been strange, that she had been strange since the drugging and she hated it, but _y/n_ didn’t know how to say, “Hey, sorry boss. I didn’t mean to talk about my sexual fantasies with you while I was on drugs.” Instead, _y/n_ just asked, “Hey Hotch. What’s up?” Aaron parked himself by her desk and he said, “I thought I’d give you a ride home?” _y/n_ flushed and said, “It’s alright. I still have this file to finish, but thanks for the offer.” Hotch stood still and said, “_y/n_, you’re finished with that file. It’s late, let me give you a ride home, please.” _y/n_ had never heard him use this tone before, and she looked up at him almost forgetting how terrible she felt about herself and the situation she’d gotten herself into with him. The way he offered made _y/n_ realize why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. The warmth, yet strength he demonstrated was just so overpowering. _y/n_ snapped back to herself and realized thinking like that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. Aaron saw the shift on her face and he said, “I’m not taking no for an answer, _y/n_. So you might as well grab your stuff. I don’t want you on the bus this late.” _y/n_ turned her head from him so he wouldn’t catch how flustered she was. She didn’t argue with him, it would be pointless and she’d say something stupid anyway.

The car ride was as awkward as either of them had imagined. It was silent until they were five minutes from _y/n_’s house. _y/n_ finally plucked up the courage to look at Hotch and say, “Listen, Hotch, about the last case…” She cut herself off not knowing what she wanted to say about the last case. Aaron took the reigns of the conversation by saying, “_y/n_, I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. I shouldn’t have stayed in the room with you. It was wrong of me.” _y/n_ swallowed and asked one of her hard questions, “What exactly did I tell you? What happened?” Aaron pulled into a spot near _y/n_’s unit and replied, “You told me about your dreams. With me. And I listened because I wanted to know. I’m sorry for violating that trust with you.” _y/n_ swallowed and looked out the window. It was as bad as she feared. _y/n_ felt like crying. The emotions had sprung up like an untapped oil well. Perhaps because she was new and thought maybe she’d get kicked out for something like this, or because she knew Aaron would never feel the same way. Never look at her the way she looked at him. _y/n_ said in an almost inaudible whisper, “No, I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t want to hear something gross like that with me. I know I’m nothing like that to you.” Hotch hadn’t expected _y/n_ to say that. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. Hotch furrowed his brow and said, “What do you mean, _y/n_?” _y/n_ huffed, trying to stop the tears from falling down her face as she said, “I know you wouldn’t want to be intimate with someone like me, okay? I get it. I’m just a newbie with a crush. Why would you ever look at me like that.” _y/n_ tone spilled from sorrow to anger quickly.

The silence was deafening for a moment before Aaron said, “_y/n_. You’re a good profiler, but you’ve read me wrong. I like you the way you like me. I have dreams about you too.” The quiet in the car was so deep that the only thing that could be heard was their breaths. _y/n_ turned her head to look at him. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Finally, while his gaze was reaching into her soul, she said, “What did you say?” Aaron flushed and raised a hand to her cheek as he deliberately said, “I have dreams about you too.” Hotch took a breath and rubbed his thumb over _y/n_’s bottom lip which was hanging slightly slack with shock. He leaned in closer. So close that his breath fanned her face as he said, “I don’t want to hear you put yourself down like that ever again _y/n_. Do you understand?” _y/n_ nodded slightly. Their mouths were just an inch from each other. When _y/n_ couldn’t wait anymore, she closed the gap between them. Hotch’s lips were warm and soft, meeting hers with enthusiasm and energy. As soon as their mouths met, nothing could stop them from going all in. _y/n_ sucked in a breath and Aaron’s large hands wrapped behind her back, holding her close to him. _y/n_’s hands made it to his hair, and she pulled at the short strands. Aaron groaned into her touch and his hands slipped under the back of _y/n_’s shirt. Hotch slipped his tongue into _y/n_’s mouth. He explored every inch of her mouth and softly bit at her lower lip where his thumb had been mere moments before. _y/n_ moaned into his rough affection. _y/n_ pulled away breathlessly from his mouth and said, “Inside. Let’s go inside.” Aaron’s eyes were full of desire, so dark almost that they looked black. They flashed with anticipation of having more of _y/n and he nodded. The pair got out of Aaron’s car and he locked it behind him as they walked to _y/n_’s apartment. They didn’t run to her door, but they didn’t amble either.

_y/n_ pulled out her keys and she could feel Aaron right behind her, like a shadow. He was so close that she swore his warmth was radiating over her back. She knew if she took a half step back, she’d be pressed against his chest and groin, and god she wanted that so badly. To be pressed into every part of him. _y/n_ quickly unlocked the door and once they were inside, she flicked on a light. _y/n_ heard the door close behind her and a firm hand on her shoulder. Hotch pushed _y/n_’s back to her front door and pinned her there with his arms. _y/n_ ran her tongue over her lower lip, making him want to taste her even more. He leaned down and kissed her again. His hands found her hips and his fingers dug into the soft flesh, seeking traction to keep him steady as his head spun with the overwhelming power _y/n_ had over him now. Aaron felt like a man parched in the desert and he’d finally found an oasis. He was going to have his fill. _y/n_’s hands roamed over his body that held such strength and power, yet contained a soul that longed to belong. Hotch pressed his body to her, pinning her further, but _y/n_ didn’t complain this was what she’d wanted for months. _y/n_ felt his erection and she provided him with some friction and he groaned, a deep sound coming from his chest. Aaron pulled back and said, “Do you want this? Are you sure you want to do this? Once I start I won’t be able to stop.” _y/n_ nodded mutely for a minute before saying, “Aaron, I told you how much I wanted it. I wasn’t exaggerating in the description of those dreams.” Hotch nodded and looked around the new space. He asked, “Bedroom?” _y/n_ flushed and said, “Down the hall, on the left.” He smiled at her and bent down slightly to pick _y/n_ up. He gave a little grunt at shifting her weight into his arms and also the fact that her core was now pressed his this throbbing cock.

In the bedroom, he let _y/n_ down, and she kicked off her shoes and turned on a few lamps. Aaron watched her and then moved behind her. His arms wrapped around her torso and he kissed the crook of her neck. _y/n_ sighed and let him give her open-mouthed kisses. However, she was ready for him. She could feel herself dripping with anticipation, and she turned in his arms. _y/n_ kissed up his jawline while her hands undid the buckle of his belt. Aaron let out a breath, realizing that _y/n_ wanted to pick up the pace. He helped her take off his pants and he returned the favor by stripping her of her _y/f/c_ shirt. His gaze roved over her body now in pants and a simple bra while she took in the bulge in his pants. Aaron pushed _y/n_ to the edge of the bed and she got on her mattress facing him. Aaron hovered over her before kissing her again. He murmured, “Such a needy kitten. Begging me to fuck you.” One of Hotch’s hands slipped under the cup of her bra and he kneaded the tissue and tweaked her nipple until it was taught under his fingers. He flicked it a few times as _y/n_ squirmed on the bed. She panted, “Aaron.” Hotch moved his other hand to the clasp of her bra and unlatched it with ease. He slipped the straps down her shoulders and marveled at what he saw beneath the fabric. Hotch tossed the bra aside, and he moved his mouth to suck on the _y/n_’s right breast, he said, “I need you to be patient for me kitten. I’m going to take this slowly because we can only do it for the first time once, and I want it to be something you remember.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I understand. I’ll try and last for you.” Hotch’s tongue licked over her nipple and she moaned and arched her back at the feelings. Before Aaron went back into to suckle her again, he said, “Atta girl.” _y/n_ paid attention as Hotch’s mouth licked over her nipple. He sucked and licked it in a way that she knew he was adept with his mouth, both here, and elsewhere. His mouth and hand which was stimulating her other breast were making her even warmer and wetter. She loved the attention he was giving her, but she wanted to see him. To have him fill her to the brim like she knew only he could do. After a few moments, Aaron’s left hand traced down to her stomach, then to her naval, and finally past the band of her panties. She let out a long moan as his finger traced the contours of her arousal. Hotch pulled his face back and he said, “You sound so pretty when you make those noises, y/n_. Like a melody I’m never going to tire of.” He’d started to rub his pointer and middle finger between her folds and _y/n_ said, “Aaron, please, I need you in me.” Hotch’s face split into a grin and he said, “I can feel that kitten. You’re so wet for me already.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I am. I have been…” _y/n_’s voice was cut off with a groan as Aaron started to circle her clit. Hotch chuckled and let _y/n_ catch her breath as he took off his shirt and briefs. _y/n_ looked at Aaron’s cock that hung thick and heavy by his stomach. He was as impressive as she’d dreamed. Probably more so, but those dreams were gone now that she was in front of the real thing. Aaron noticed her gaze and he said, “Don’t look so shocked _y/n_ or you’ll scandalize me.” _y/n_ laughed, appreciating that he could have some humor at the moment. She said, “What if I praised you instead?” Aaron stilled at the phrase and said, “You don’t need my ego that big right now _y/n_.” His hands slipped to both sides of her panties and she let him slide them down her legs and to the floor like her bra.

Aaron looked over her swollen pussy and noticed how slick it was with her readiness. He looked at her and asked, “How do you want it, _y/n_?” _y/n_ propped herself up on one elbow and used the other to pull him into another kiss before saying, “Just like this, with you on top, putting your weight into me.” Aaron nodded and helped her get into a comfortable position on her back. He asked while flicking a finger over her clit, “Are you on the pill or do I need a condom?” _y/n_ was squirming again under his skilled fingers as she said, “I’m on the pill. You’re good.” Aaron smiled and stopped his hand. _y/n_ almost mewled at the loss of feeling, but Hotch quickly replaced his hand with this cock. He guided it up and down her opening to coat it with her slick. _y/n_ arched her back and let out a long moan as he guided the tip inside her. “Aaron,” she called out as he kept pressing in and out of her. He looked down at her face, which radiated her pleasure. He checked in anyway asking, “Is it too much? Are you comfortable?” _y/n_ nodded and said, “It’s perfect. Just keep going, please. You’re not gonna hurt me.” _y/n_ opened her eyes enough to see his smile and he pressed his length further into her weeping cunt. It took him three full thrusts to seat himself in her. No matter how ready _y/n_ said she was, he wasn’t going to press her or harm her. _y/n_ wrapped her arms around him and he began to thrust in and out of her. _y/n_ let out a litany of sounds and words as he established a pace. Aaron struggled to keep his composure as left her warmth and wetness tight around his cock. He groaned as he kept moving inside her. _y/n_ hands raked down his back, asking him to move more. Aaron complied with her unspoken request. He started snapping his hips into her, filling her each time. _y/n_ let out a strangled cry that was his name and he replied, “That’s a good girl. You’re taking me so well aren’t you kitten.”Hotch stifled her future cries with his mouth. The veins on Aaron’s dick gave the perfect feeling for _y/n_’s walls to feel the sensation of Hotch’s fast pace. He was doing as she asked, putting his full weight into every thrust. _y/n_ quickly started feeling her core tighten and the fact that he wasn’t letting her get any sounds out only amplified the orgasm that she knew was fast approaching. Aaron moved one hand to her clit and began rubbing soft circles over her nerve spot. He pulled his mouth away from hers so she could hear _y/n_ pant his name and have her breath pick up even more. Aaron quickened and tightened his attention on her clit and he knew she was close as her walls tightened around him and her back arched further off the bed. He was close too and he gave her his all as his hips rocked into hers. He looked at her face and hair above her head as he said, “Let go kitten. You can let go for me.” At his encouragement, _y/n_ let her climax peak and she felt herself seize all over as the wave of euphoria crashed over her. The look on _y/n_’s face and the way _y/n_’s cunt got even tighter with her orgasm had Aaron spill into her harshly. He called out her name as he let go. Hotch leaned forward on his arms to stop from collapsing on top of her.

Both of them took their time to catch their breaths and Aaron looked over to her saying, “That was, that was amazing, _y/n_.” _y/n_ looked at him, eyes still blown from her climax. She ran a hand over his cheek and said, “That was better than any dream I could imagine.” Hotch laughed and said, “I’m not sure about that. Some of them sounded pretty nice. Maybe we should try some of those things later on.” Hearing Aaron say that _y/n_ sobered and said, “So, we’re going to keep doing this?” Hotch looked at her and sat up from her side. He kissed the tip of her nose and said, “If you want, _y/n_. I’d like to if you're comfortable with it.” _y/n_ nodded slowly and said, “I do want that, but what about the team and the rules? Is this even allowed?” Aaron smiled down at her glowing body and said, “Yeah, we’ll have to talk about that. But it can wait for tonight. I never want you to think I don’t dream about you like you did with me. And I’m going to make sure I show you that thoroughly with time.” _y/n_ beamed and tried to sit up, but Aaron held her back and asked, “What are you trying to do, kitten?” _y/n_ flushed at the nickname and replied, “Just getting some towels to clean us up?” Hotch kept his gaze on her face before flicking it between her legs. He looked back at her and said, “You must be joking if you think I’m going to let that all go to waste. Now lay back down and let me take care of you.” _y/n_ let out a little gasp at the request, but let Aaron push her back on the mattress. He kissed down the valley of her breasts, stomach, and finally to their shared release. As his mouth expertly lapped up what he’d spilled in her, mixed with her climax, both Aaron and _y/n_ realized they’d found something very special in the other. Aaron had found an agent willing to stick with the BAU in the good and bad times, and _y/n_ had found a leader she trusted enough to follow into the fire. And well the sex, the intimacy that they had had and that to come, well that was just the cherry on top.

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baking-bugs · 2 months ago

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Metadede week: AU

so when i was 12/13 i created a kirby au called "Headcanon Overdose Alternate Universe", abbreviated to "HCODAU", where i was just having too much fun with metadad & creating backstories & some worldbuilding i just decided to create an au for all that stuff without worrying about canon. the writing quality is about as good as you can imagine would come out of a tween. Actual soap opera levels of drama. the main thing i focused on for HCODAU was meta & dedede, who were childhood friends as depicted here with the old designs i used then, & oh man the rest of the story decisions i made were insane. for some reason since meta adopted kirby as soon as he arrived, i thought it'd make ""more sense"" if dedede was never a jerk/rival to him & the events of the very first game just.. never happened ? ? ? & captain vul was a jerk towards kirby instead ? ? also adeleine was secretly a fairy ? ? kracko flooded halcandra ? ? kirby became evil when he got older ? ? there's so much more crazy stuff in there but i think i should stop. anyway this is a lil moment in a fic i created around that time where prince dedede introduces meta to sweets.he was never the same afterwards

#i didn't mean for this to have shading i swear. i was just drawing one of the stalls; adding wood details & felt like adding lighting #but when i zoomed out & realized the rest of the piece would have to be shaded aswell i couldn't undo far enough to rid the lighting #my background drawing skills are very rusty.... sorry #i was supposed to go to bed a few hours ago man 😭#my art #kirby series #king dedede #meta knight #shipping #metadede #mtddweek2024

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happypeachsludgeflower · 16 days ago

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Qi Rong Transmitigation AU

I've been seeing a lot of people in the various mxtx fandoms posting their fic ideas in plot outline rambles and ya know what, that seems like a fun way to share some of my ideas that I'm not currently working on (and at the rate I write will never see the light of day otherwise)!! And who knows, maybe by sharing them, it'll spark more ideas and spiral into more plot info or even a full fic!! Asking me questions about a particular plot is a sure way to get me writing.

Anyway, so today's ridiculous plot ya'll get to hate me for is the newest one I came up with the other day!! Transmitigator Qi Rong!! (I was going to ramble about one of my many fengqing au's, but I was trying to pick one and then remembered that I hadn't written the Qi Rong/svsss plot out yet and-- yea, now we get cannibalism and violence instead!!)

Basically, the plot idea is that Qi Rong (who probably has a different name, but I haven't researched what to use instead yet... maybe something green?? The characters 绿色 lǜsè was the first thing that came up with the Chinese dictionary, so we'll go with that. His modern name was Qī Lǜsè) was from modern day and died reading tgcf, ya know, as you do. And he was really pissed off by Qi Rong's character in general because Reasons ™ (I'll decide later). Next thing he knows, he wakes up as a young Qi Rong, prior to Xian Le's fall, with a fancy system telling him to stick to the plot and stay in character!!

Now there are two ways we could go from here. One, Qi Rong can have a system similar to Shen Qingqiu's that allows the ooc feature to be unlocked after a certain point, but he has unavoidable plot points similar to the abyss, which would probably be the burning of Xie Lian's temples and/or the gilded banquet, that he has to follow through with or have his account terminated, i.e. die.

OR (and this is the one I've been brain rotting on because so. much. angst!! ...don't mind me I just like overdosing my fics on angst) Qi Rong is stuck with an asshole system that has decided he has to stay in character and cannot deviate too much from the main plot similar to Shang Qinghua's system. Just imagine!!

Qi Rong: but do I have to commit war crime atrocities?? A-System: yes ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡" Qi Rong: ...how 'bout I make it look like I'm doing war crimes and atrocities and then just.. don't? A-System: ( ¯ ³¯)♡ no Qi Rong: brb off to plot your murder A-System: (ó﹏ò｡)

I suppose the third route would be to find a middle ground where we get a-hole system AND ooc abilities, but I have yet to have the epiphany on how to marry the ideas.

I personally think the concept of Qi Rong's internal dialogue being a constant stream of "wtf" and "why am I doing this again" and somehow, inexplicably, against all expectations, being more chaotic than OG Qi Rong with meme references and random song breaks would be entertaining. Also, the bitch is absolutely going to argue with the system every chance he can get just to be petty.

I have a lot of other thoughts on this, but I'm going to end this post here before I accentually write another 5k summary at 3am. I'll continue this another day (￣^￣ )ゞ

#qi rong transmitigation au #mxtx hell #tgcf fanfic #tgcf au #tgcf qi rong #qi rong #mxtx tgcf #tgcf donghua #tgcf novel #tgcf spoilers #heaven officials blessing #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #mxtx svsss #svsss #sort of?#mxtx fandom #happypeachsludgeflower

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imbecominggayer · 2 months ago

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How To Write Characters With Addiction

From @differentnighttale: "I am curious if you give advice about writing people with addictions for example substance. I have reasons my male MC does it. But how can I describe the addictions the MC has correctly."

In this post we are going to be talking about addiction! From alcoholism, substance abuse, nymphomania, to everything else that can be a possible addiction. This post will be all about making this realistic and complex :)

A) What Are The Benefits?, Make It Convincing

Grab a fucking piece of paper or whatever you have and just write a paragraph from your addict's perspective on the situation. Omit the bad stuff. Make it highly convincing. if you aren't thinking "hmm, understandable" after you've written and read it, you did it wrong.

What do they get out of it?

Why did they like it at first?

Are they calmer, more intensely concentrated, does it take the edge off?

Are they more confident?

Does it ease the sense of being fundamentally wrong or dull some other pain?

Is it fun to do something rebellious?

What made them like this thing so much they tried it again, and again, and again?

B) Think About The Consequences, And Ignore It

Oftentime, at least in my experience, people will continue with a bad habit if it means they don't have to be the one to think about the consequences.

The Consequences For Addiction Include:

Financial. Depending on what your character uses to get their fix and how much they use, they might be spending hundreds a week if they are a particularly aggressive user. People often steal money from their loved ones. Addiction also tends to get people fired. Write a scene where your drunk character gets fired for operating machinery. Have them be a burdenous sponge.

Social. It's common for addicts to lose their loved ones since it often gets to a point where it's impossible to care about these people despite how much you love them. Make love ones leave your character! And don't blame them

Physical. STDs, Overdose, Liver Failure, and a shit ton of other issues from the chronic to the fatal either cause, exacerbate, or are linked with addiction. Recovery can't automatically save your character so don't write that story.

Psychological. Being an addict isn't fun since you get to struggle with points 1, 2, and 3 all at the same time! Write about your character issues. Their lack of control. Their spiralling life.

Write all about your character's suffering. And then have them justify it. Make it convincing.

They need it. It's not their fault that this is the only that helps them! Everyone just doesn't get it. I'm trying to work on it, OK?! It'll all work out! They know that it's wrong but...

My most hated shit is when a character's arc is easy. They struggle with some things like a big dramatic argument with their wife, they cry a bit, and then they learn that "drugs are bad" so everything is fine :D

NO!!! Why don't you write about a friendship that doesn't get mended? A chronic illness they now have to pay huge medicine bills for? A fucked-up rap sheet that they can't escape?

And it's not because we want to punich addicts. It's because it doesn't matter if you care about addicts if you don't care about the messy shit!

It's easy to sympathize with an addict if you make them the most innocent victim who never hurts someone intentionally and who gets rid of the addiction in a second and never struggles with it ever again!

Do the hard shit. Make your readers sympathize with the unsympathetic asshole addict! Addicts aren't always good people! They can be dickbags. And they still deserve resources. Life isn't some kind of karma game where dickbags suffer and good people rise! Everyone deserves to not suffer!

Addiction is ultimately a disease. But it's a disease that can make someone you love into an absolutely unlikeable person. And this is coming from someone with an alcoholic dad <3 He does good things and bad things. I can sympathise with my dad and not let him walk all over me.

C) Withdrawal Is Leaving An Ex, Relapse Is Returning

Addiction is a motherfucker trying to leave. It's basically the equivalent of a clingy ex who keeps contacting you, asking for just one conversation, and the moment you so much as acknowledge them you are fucked.

And suffering the brunt of a clingy ex who won't take the hint tends to cause the same symptoms as withdrawal!

Obviously, withdrawal symptoms depend on what type of ex you have and what age you are and yada yada yada. Research for specificity :)

Withdrawal symptoms can include:

Headaches

Insomnia

Fatigue

Hallucinations

Seizures

Tremors

Cravings

etc.

BE AWARE: Relapses are when someone returns back to their drug if they were going cold turkey or going back to their original dose. Relapses can sometimes result in an overdose due to the fact that the brain has been weened off the substance and is now overwhelmed by the high dose.

Relapses often happen when a person makes the deliberate choice in order to stop these fucking nightmarish symptoms. To use the analogy of a clingy ex, you start talking to them in order to tell them to stop contacting.

Relapses can also happen through being in a setting where the behaviors associated with the addiction such as sex, gambling, drinking, substance use, and all manner of things are normalized.

This setting could be a party, a bar, or even a friend group.

Relapse is made more likely if someone is self-detoxing away from a support group or a doctor.

Writing about withdrawal and relapses are an important part in making a story feel more authentic. Just like with mental illness, people rarely learn the lesson and follow it perfectly. They make mistakes. Slip back into old habits. Do shitty things.

We aren't writing their suffering to punish them. We are doing it because you can't say you care if all you are willing to do is look at the easy parts.

D) Little Tidbits To Keep Track Off

This is the miscellanious things that didn't fit into their own boxes.

Friends!

Do they have friends who also have their addiction? How do they hang out? What are they like? How are their substance using friends different from their non-addict ones?

Slang!

Don't just look up slang for your substance of choice. You'll need to look at some first-hand accounts of addiction. Find an influence who has struggled with substance abuse in the past and see how they talk about it!

Variables!

Remember to keep their geographical location, socioeconomic status, time, and a host of other factors. If your character is a penniless alcoholic then it's unlikely they'll get their hands on some type of expensive gin. They'll probably use rubbing alcohol. Keep the price of your drug in mind.

A character's status will also impact their slang. No one unironically says doobie anymore.

A character's location will also impact how they get their shit and how other characters will react to that addiction.

A character's financial status also impacts how the consequences of their actions impact them. A low-income character wont be able to afford the same medication as a rich addict. They also won't have the same luxury for quality therapy, rehab, programs, time, anything really.

Look At The Addict And The Loved Ones

Try not the skew the reality of addiction to paint the addict as the victim and the loved ones as evil for not being forgiving and tolerant enough.

Keep sympathy for both the addict and the loved ones. Or drop sympathy for both of those characters.

E) RESOURCES

FDA and DEA online databases and drug resources

Social Networking Groups

Medical Journals

Local medical professionals, police, and medical examiners

The US national poison center

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blixabargelds · 3 months ago

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The superstar prompt was so sweet and special, really enjoyed it, you are such a talented writing.

I’m so curious about bucky and buck in this world, like how’d they meet or what their relationship dynamic is like or how it changes with time. Very excited for anything that you write.

thank you so so much i’m sooo overwhelmed that ppl seem to be liking it (elo too, i’ve been feeding all this back to them!) especially considering we’ve not posted any fic yet jgkgk we must have about 20k+ written but it’s all out of order bc we’ve extensively planned the whole thing and just keep writing bits we want to most instead of chronologically 😭 we really kept joking that it would have like 5 readers max when we finally start posting it but seeing that that’s not true we are working on being more organised lmaoo

they meet at a gig. john (vocals), rosie (guitar), and curt (drums) are punk band the b17s that need a new bassist. it’s kind of love at first listen for gale, and he ends up joining and leaving wyoming with them (he cannot play bass. rosie teaches him. he’s a very dedicated student and gradually becomes an animal on stage).

john n gale are head over heels. throughout the whole thing even though things get pretty bad and they probably should split about 70 times they never do and their love is really the whole thing that guides them through everything to the (eventual, very eventual) happy, not perfect but god happy, ending.

their dynamic changes many times, especially when gale gets into drugs with john (he was squeaky clean and sober when they meet). it changes depending on the drugs they’re doing too (gale on coke- euphoric until the months long comedown. john on coke- tense. john on heroin- distant. gale and john on heroin- inseparable, invincible, sharing one soul. gale on heroin- living on completely separate planets).

a lot of bad shit happens as you’d imagine. three (four?) overdoses, lying, arguing, one attempted murder (not between them lol). one actual murder (also not between them lmfao). two rock bottoms as low as you can go.

it’s also filthy. they fuck like insane people. in bathrooms, in bedrooms, in their makeshift studio, in their van, in clubs, at gigs.

and there’s so much love. they are so so in love despite it all. and they get off drugs in the end.

it’s not fluffy. the whole thing is for the sickos for sure. but it isn’t brutal all the way through. there’s a lot of genuine sweetness. it’s also really funny in parts. i’m really so touched that people are interested we did not expect that. it’s become wildly important to both of us. we are both addicts, and we love addicts so so deeply it’s a kinship like nothing else i’ve known to be able to write candidly about things a lot of people turn away from in discomfort and to turn to each other and say ‘writing that was rough’ or ‘writing that was so fun’ or ‘writing that made me horny’ or ‘writing that really made me want to do x again’ and your collaborator saying ‘well don’t, do it to john and gale instead’ and saying ‘yeah, that would feel a lot better’. and so far it has.

#superstar #frankiefic #masters of the air #clegan #mota #cw drugs #cw addiction

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kenlvry · 2 years ago

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team craig + team stan w/ an energetic crush or s/o. I saw this with another writer and just wanted to see how you would write it. thank you <3 and please drink your water

energetic reader

an: hello!! thankyou i drink 10 gallons every millisecond. also no jimmy sorry :(

kenny mccormick

kenny loved how you are, its like you are constantly consuming sugar. everytime you see him your face lights up and you do that roblox wave "KENNY!!!!" and walks over to him, or sometimes you just hug him. he finds it so cute, the way you act so goofy, you always cheer him up if he's down and he just loves you sm for it

kyle

yk at first he was annoyed ngl, how can someone have so much energy he thoughts. its like you have an unlimited social battery, he'd observe from afar of how you always smile so widely to people and talk to them as if you'd known them for years, he eventually get used to it. usually when his friends are overly energetic it means trouble but for you it wasny, it was a change of scenery for him. he likes it, he loves how you always cheers up the class or how the mood changes whenever yr around.

stan

he too, at first hated it. his life was tiring enough already now he has to deal with someone who overdoses on sugar? when he saw how you would always cheer up anyone he thinks your one of those annoying bitches who doesn't know how to shut up and when you talked to him he thought he had to hold in the thousands of curses he had in him but he actually was happy around you, you knew exactly what made him happy or you wouldn't judge him with his addiction to alcohol, i mean yr already act like a drunk person yrself. he grew a liking to it, he loves how you would greet him so warmly, how you always makes his day better and how you never get tired. he just loves you in general

eric

hates you. he hates how bubbly and energetic you are, how can you be so happy and energetic at school?? whenever you greet him he make sure you know he hates you "not this bitch again" you tbh could give no fucks. he does eventually like it though, he looks forward to the "HI CARTMANNN" every morning or "HELLOOOOO" you do when you join in a conversation with anyone. he still acts like he doesn't like it, but trust he loves it sm

clyde

he's someone who's energetic too so he loves it when someone matches his energy, you are so funny he laughs so hard when he's with you. you are the girl version of him. you two are so competitive whenever he loose to you you'd bring it up for days "oh yeah who lost chess again?? RIGHT YOU DID FUCKING LOSER" he does the same to you dw, hes the type to say "SUCK MY DICK Y/N" if he wins ong. he'd take you to parties knowing damn well you are going to be in the centre shaking your ass or smthin. you have a really high tolerance on alcohol, he'd do bets with people saying like whoever gets drunk first has to pay up 100, you already act like a drunk so its an ultimate win. he swears youre like a golden retriever with a high alcohol tolerance and is never tired.

tolkien

he loves it, he loves when you would go "OMG LOOK AT THIS" with such shock in your face and its literally a cat falling of a bed, your energetic energy is just so fun to him. he lives off of it. he loves when you go "tolkien my man!, literally" or the jokes you crack up.sometimes its tiring for him though so he'd let someone else deal with your behaviour, its like hes a mother who let his child run free. at parties you'd go around with him behind you "this is my boyfriend tolkien!!!!!!!" all smiley and happy like they don't know already

craig

to craig youre like a highschool bully who is the leader of the popular girls, always parties, too many boyfriends and is popular as hell. he doesn't get how people could handle your energetic behaviour, he sighs and prays for whoever ends up with a girl like you. he prays for himself i guess, he actually likes it tbh, it wasn't at all tiring as he thought. especially when your with stripe its like you never get tired and always play with stripe. he needs some ruckus in his life apart from cartman and the others. he loves you sm and he will never get sick of you

tweek

he... he doesn't know how to handle you. he himself doesnt know how to take care of himself. he loves you though he js yk.. yeah. he needs some time to process you because of how energetic you are, its like yr always in a rush. he would observe from afar how you act with other people and wow, other people can caught on to you pretty well, especially Clyde. clyde is the exact copy of you its like you two are twins separated from birth. tweek eventually gets used to it. he loves the "TWEEKKKKKK" you do when you see him, or sometimes you even wave to him like your whole arm is in the air waving to him even though your talking to someone else. he has to drag you away from parties though, stan would text tweek like "pick up yo girl" with a pic of you chugging a whole bottle or alcohol.

#kenny mccormick x reader #craig tucker x reader #tweek x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh x reader #tolkien x reader #eric cartman x reader #clyde donovan x reader #south park #south park x y/n #south park x you #south

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friedbaekhyunandeggso · 2 years ago

Text

found you

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna) [p.s. i tried to keep her features ambiguous asf. i just suck at writing 1st/2nd person, the only features i mentioned r big titties & like a shorter height but PLS envision whoever u want]

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! oc (this part of the one-shot takes place in high school but if the ppl want more i have ideas for a mid/late twenties time-jump - update: i've decided to make a miniseries of this now but this part/chapter can be read as a standalone)

warnings: 18+ only babes, profanity, mentions of parental abuse (verbal & physical), stalking/possessive themes, mentions of alcohol & drugs (m0lly, w33d), hypothermia (LOL jus read & find out), drug overdose, pet-names (princess, kitten), dub/non-consented sex, choking (if u squint), nipple play, begging, spitting (f receiving), dry humping, virginity loss, sadism, rough sex, creampie (pls don't b silly & cover ur willy irl)

word count/plot: [18.4k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: first time posting something like this in a while. gojo is a huge red-flag, but jus a gentle reminder to y'all to never let no man treat u like this irl pUHLeASE ! ik i wrote this but i hate romanticizing psycho behavior (i hate & love it-its jus oddly fun 2 write)

I never wanted his attention.

In fact, I never wanted anybody’s attention.

Mrs. Finch stood at the front of the classroom. Most of the students were busy-lost in their own conversations as she cleared her throat multiple times before finally losing it when she slammed her hand down on the table before her.

The room went silent.

“There we go.” she said, with a lopsided smile-though the annoyance was clear in her gaze.

“Sorry, Mrs. Finch, didn’t mean to ruffle up your feathers.” Gojo’s smooth voice lilted from the center of the classroom.

The classroom broke out in laughter. It felt almost exaggerated to Ara’s ears, who merely continued to stare straight at Mrs. Finch through half-lidded eyes. Nothing about Gojo Satoru was amusing to her but ever since he moved to our town freshman year of high school, he’s owned the students’ attention ever since. His popularity only grew by leaps and bounds over the years.

Maybe it was his looks, his name, his athletic skill–she didn’t want to know or care. There were enough rich, insolent snobs at this academy so he fit right in.

“Satoru, as much as I love your bird jokes,” Mrs. Finch’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “The time to stop your chirping is now.”

Gojo merely chuckled into his hand.

She held up a piece of paper, “Alright, as your homeroom teacher I am expected to share this with you all. As you are all aware, you are seniors. Next year, most of you will be happily hopping off to whichever college or university you applied to–hopefully somewhere far, far away,” -her eyes lingering on Gojo, who merely smiled brightly in return- “But as your high school careers almost come to an end, there is one more thing I know many students are curious to know about. Your rank.”

“Obviously, since this is the beginning of the school year there is a chance that this rank could change but here is the academic ranking of your graduating class as of today. I’m only going to be reading off twenty students' names on this list because the top twenty students are the only ones who will be specially commemorated on graduation day. As well as the valedictorian and salutatorian–who will also be allowed to say speeches. If you are not on this list and would like to know your rank, please speak to me after.”

She cleared her throat, “Alright, first in rank is–”

Gojo leaned back in his seat, a subtle smirk gracing his lips as he awaited his name.

“Ara Natsuna.”

Suddenly, everyone’s head faced her and she wished she didn’t exist. She stared down at her hands on the desk-countenance neutral-but if anyone was looking closely they would notice that her shoulders were incredibly tense; her elbows were almost digging into the desk from nerves.

A few claps arose, along with a few murmurs before Mrs. Finch continued.

“Second in ranking, Satoru Gojo.”

The classroom erupted in cheer. His best friend, Geto-who was seated right behind him-leaned forward in his seat to playfully tousle Gojo’s platinum hair. But Gojo barely responded, only offering his fellow fans a half-hearted smile while nonchalantly crossing his arms.

As Mrs. Finch continued to list off names, this growing uneasiness nagged at her. She didn’t understand–of course, she was expecting a high rank. Maybe first rank was a bit of a surprise but she knew she’d earned it.

So what is this feeling?

She hadn’t made eye contact with anyone ever since her name was announced, still continuing to diligently stare at her linked hands on the desk as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

But she raised her head to find the source of this sixth sense bugging at her.

Her eyes were met with his crystalline, cerulean blue eyes–staring at her with absolutely no emotion. It was the most serious she had ever seen him. Something about his stare was so intense, she just froze.

If it was possible for eyes to swallow someone up, she was sure she would’ve disintegrated there and then.

Her brows furrowed quizzically before she quickly looked away. She swallowed hard, shaking her head imperceptibly–in attempt to ignore her buzzing nerves.

That was the first time he looked at me.

I wish it was the last.

She closed her locker room door and there he was, leaning against the locker beside her own as if he owned it. She nearly jumped.

He smiled. She wasn’t unfamiliar with his dazzling smile. It was pasted all over the schools’ walls, newspaper and television. She didn’t need to see it all up close but… she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t more handsome in person.

“Hi Ara.”

He was quite bold for using her first name already.

But it was back–that buzzing sensation that whispered along her skin when she’d first locked eyes with him. Now that he was close and peering at her again-with what she couldn’t help but identify as false geniality-she immediately identified what the rapidly growing knot in her stomach was telling her.

It was a sense of foreboding.

Obviously, he was trouble. Anyone with brain cells would know that. He was the kind of trouble that easily drew in girls and only made the guys want to join in on his fun.

But that wasn’t what her instincts were telling her. Her instincts were telling her to stay far, far away from him. That he wasn’t just coming to her for some fun, lighthearted conversation–or whatever he was trying to come across as.

He was here for something else.

And if there was one thing Ara trusted, it was her gut feeling.

Besides, she couldn’t imagine anything useful actually coming out of his glossy lips anyway.

He raised a white eyebrow, his smile only widening as she stared.

Just as he opened his mouth, she bent down and lifted her backpack–hastily throwing it over her shoulder before turning around. She headed towards the school exit, she couldn’t miss her bus.

“What-!” his astonished voice echoed in the empty hallway, “Is it because I called you by your first name?”

She didn’t bother turning around, only sending him a glance when she’d turned into another hall. It seems his friends had caught up to him–or maybe they’d been nearby. Maybe him talking to her was a set-up, she couldn’t know.

His friends didn’t act like it’d been a set up though, they didn’t even look at her. Like everyone else.

Despite his friends being engaged in quite the boisterous conversation, his eyes were locked on her. His smile nowhere to be seen.

I should’ve switched schools then.

She yawned before closing her locker door and nearly going into cardiac arrest when she saw him leaning on the locker next hers again.

His white hair was left ruffled-as usual-and the crisp blue blazer that was the school’s boy uniform suited him a lot more than 99% of the school’s male population.

He smiled, “Good Morning, Natsuna.” he greeted.

She glanced around the hall to see that there were only a few people down the end of the hallway. Most had gone into their homerooms already–although it was technically a little early. There were still five minutes until all the students were required to be in homeroom.

He let out an amused chuckle, “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked, disbelief coating his tone.

She shot him a look before readjusting her backpack strap over shoulder. She was surprised he was still bothering with her.

She turned around and headed towards their homeroom. He followed her.

“Why won’t you talk to me? I haven’t even done anything to you–have I?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Suddenly she stopped before their homeroom door. His tall frame nearly bumped into her.

“What’re you stopping for?” he asked.

She turned around and her eyes widened as she looked up at him. She’d already known he was tall but up close, it was even more obvious. At 5’3, he stood at a considerable height before her–being a foot taller.

He tilted his head, his blazing blue eyes curious as he searched her face.

He raised his hand and right before he could make contact, she quickly jumped back–the door behind her suddenly swinging open and Geto stepped out. She scurried out of his way.

“Satoru, there you are. Get in here.” Geto reached out and grabbed Gojo’s arm, pulling him into homeroom.

Gojo glanced back at her, “Wait–”

“What were you doin’ standing out there by yourself..” Geto’s voice trailed off when the homeroom door shut behind them.

She sighed in relief. There was no way she was going to walk into homeroom with Gojo. She was sure to be barraged with questions or–more likely, get weird looks from the other girls. She didn’t need that attention.

She stepped out of her last class a little later than usual. She had stopped to ask the teacher a question but then had gotten wrapped into a full blown conversation instead. It was one of those elderly teachers that students rarely talked to so she felt bad attempting to cut the conversation short.

But she had to make sure she didn’t miss the bus.

Just as she stepped out of the classroom, Gojo stood outside her class.

How the hel–

“Hi, Natsuna.” he greeted, energetically. His folded arms dropping as she walked right past him.

He followed behind her.

“I found out a lot about you today.”

She glanced around at the handful of students in the hall. A few glanced their way, giving curious looks. A student from the basketball team yelled out Gojo’s name in greeting.

“Yo!” Gojo responded, quickly dapping him up before catching up to her once more.

She continued to religiously ignore him as she walked.

“Don’t you want to hear what I found out?” he pressed before easily walking in stride with her–despite her fast walking.

When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Your birthday is in November—a month before mine. You like the color purple–pastel purple, specifically. Good taste, by the way. I look great in that color–”

She hastily put in her locker code before swinging it open. He was still going on as he leaned against the locker beside hers.

“You’ve lived in this town since forever. You don’t do any extracurriculars. You have one friend, Millie, who’s surprisingly talkative—”

She slammed her locker door shut.

He raised a brow, “Oo, feisty.”

She glanced at him-scowl on her lips until her eyes widened–Fuck, I’m gonna be late for the bus.

She suddenly turned on her heel and ran.

“Wait–”

But she was too far down the hall by the time he called out. Wasn’t like she was going to listen to him anyway.

He sighed before waving his hand and speaking-in a rather cherry voice, “I’ll tell what more I learned tomorrow!”

Is he serious? Can he not take a hint?

She was too annoyed by her tardiness to care much until she ran outside to see the buses leaving one by one. Her heart dropped.

No, no, no.

Her eyes widened as she saw her bus was one of the first in the line up to leave. Her heart dropped to stomach.

No, no, no.

But it was too late. Looks like there was no other choice…

Her hand was shaky as she reached into her pocket to take out her phone. She whispered a quick prayer before holding the phone to her ear. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Baba..”

It was just as she expected.

“Home, School, Home, School. It’s such a simple fucking routine–why don’t you get it by now? Just get on the damn bus on time!”

He slammed the door shut behind himself. She sobbed as she crawled into a ball on her bed.

“Can’t do anything fucking right!” His yelling audible through the door.

She continued to cry on the bed. Her stomach hurt from where her father had kicked her. Her cheek pounding from his slap. This was why she hated asking for favors. Her Dad never took it well. She was always a nuisance.

Always.

And yet he expected nothing but perfection from her. Getting an A- on an assignment would most likely result in the same.

Can’t do anything fucking right.

His harsh words echoed in her mind. It seemed nothing she did ever made him happy. She’d wanted to tell him that she was ranked first in her grade but the moment she stepped into his car the atmosphere was suffocating. She knew it was gonna be, but she thought… she thought maybe she could dampen the mood by telling him.

But, boy, had she been wrong. The verbal abuse started the second she stepped into the car.

Then the physical abuse when they reached home.

Now he was off back to work–probably going to be back in the evening. Her Mom was still out of the country; visiting her lovely, accolade-ridden family that she tried so hard to impress despite being a housewife.

It wouldn’t have even made a difference had she been here. She took his abuse all the same–turning a blind eye whenever he did the same to her.

Divorce is not an option. Her Mom would constantly say, back in the day when Ara used to beg on her knees for her to leave him.

Her body shook as she sobbed. She grabbed the pillow and screamed into it, until her throat was dry and scratchy. Til the pain made her numb to emotion.

She entered homeroom early, in attempt to avoid the white haired boy that always seemed to find her at her locker somehow. She wasn’t in the mood to have someone talk at her today–or ever, in fact.

But, to her surprise, Geto was in homeroom too. His dark hair up in his typical smooth yet slightly messy knot, with a few strands hovering over his forehead. His broad shoulders always seemed so pronounced in the school uniform. He sat completely relaxed in his seat, phone in hand.

His dark eyes flickered up to her when she entered.

She swallowed, quickly looking away before heading to her seat. She didn’t need to look to know he was watching her.

She sat in her seat, hastily pulling out one of the paperback books that she was supposed to read for an assignment. She’d already finished reading the assigned chapters but she wanted to get ahead.

As she flipped through the book to find where she left off, Geto’s deep voice suddenly rang out, “Satoru is curious about you.”

She froze, her fingers tightening around the page she was about to flip. She’d spoken to Geto before, he’d been in some of her classes so they’d randomly get paired together sometimes. There wasn’t much between them beyond that.

She glanced over at him, “Tell him to leave me alon–”

The door suddenly swung open and Gojo entered, his hands over his knees as he panted.

“Suguru, have you seen–” his piercing blue eyes suddenly landed on her and then at Geto.

He froze when he realized that he’d heard a feminine voice speaking when he’d entered the room. And since Geto was the only other person here…

A frown graced his features, “So you can talk to him but not to me?” he demanded.

Before she felt required to answer his absurd question, people began to pour into the room–including Mrs. Finch.

“Well, well, well, look who’s early.” she grumbled as she eyed Gojo. Ara couldn’t help but feel as though her and Mrs.Finch were the only two people who viewed Gojo the same–a pest.

For once, he didn’t take the bait and instead sat down in his seat with a huff. A pout on his lips as he crossed his arms.

Ara narrowed her eyes at the sight before dutifully turning back to read her book.

Her thoughts wandered as she questioned what his deal was..

It was subtle at first.

Ara walked out of the cafeteria, her tray of food in hand. She never sat in the cafeteria. She didn’t have any friends so what was the point. Well–Millie didn’t have the same lunch time as her this year and even if she did, it was sometimes easier to eat by herself.

Millie’s friends didn’t talk about things she could relate to anyway. Millie was funner to talk to one on one–but that was just her opinion.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice when she’d turned the corner in the hall and bumped into someone.

“Shit.” she muttered, as her tray of food fell straight to the floor.

“Oh fuck.. I’m so sorry.”

She looked up to see Austin. He was in her Anatomy class. They hadn’t spoken too much before but… she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him interesting. He was kinda like her, reserved, but maybe a little more sociable. Puberty had also hit him like a truck.

He’d grown much taller and he seemed to be filling out a bit more. His hair had grown out to his shoulders and it looked good, especially with that low man-bun hairstyle he was sporting nowadays.

She’d never gain the courage to tell him that though.

They both bent down to reach for the tray at the same time. Their hands touched.

“Oh.” he muttered, while they both withdrew their hands.

He glanced at her to see that she looked semi-embarrassed. The moment she caught his eye she gave him a small smile.

“Y-you’re fine.” she reassured him–though she wished she had the courage to tell him that she meant that in more than one way.

He blinked, “You sure? I could buy you lunch if you want? I feel bad.”

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it.”

She glanced down at the mess on the floor, “I’ll just go get the custodian.”

“Wait, no–I’ll do that. It’s the least I can do after wasting your lunch.” he said.

Just as he turned to head off, he suddenly turned back.

“A-are you sure I can’t buy you anything? Seriously,” he fished out a five dollar bill from his pocket, “Please take this and at least get something from the vending machine.”

She raised her hands slightly and shook them, “Don’t worry about it.”

He outstretched his hand with the bill, “Please, just take it. It’ll make me feel like less of an ass.”

She laughed slightly, “You’re not an ass.”

He waved the five dollar bill in his hand once more and she eyed it wearily–before snatching it.

“Fine.”

There was a tinge of shyness in the attractive smile that spread across his lips, “Thanks, Ara.”

She pocketed the five dollar bill with a shake of her head. He was nicer than she thought. After he joined the Basketball team last year she expected him to adopt the typical jock attitude but it seemed he was still himself.

She watched him jog off to find a custodian.

She turned slightly to brush off any crumbs that may have fallen on her uniform but it seemed she was in the clear.

After giving her uniform one last dust off, she glanced up. A frown on her lips. There it was again. That feeling…

That intense nagging feeling in the back of her mind, as if trying to tell her something in a language that she couldn’t understand. She’d felt it before but… Gosh, it was so uncomfortable. Her stomach flip flopped with anxiety as she glanced around for the source–

Her eyes widened when she looked down the end of the hall to see a familiar tall, white-haired boy staring directly at her. He stood as still as a statue.

The nauseous feeling somehow disappeared the second she locked eyes with him.

She blinked before frowning. Ugh, why’d he have to show up?

She turned and headed towards the library, internally praying that the vending machine in the library still worked.

Austin didn’t come to school the next day.

“A-austin?” she said–the following day when he’d come back to class.

He stopped in the midst of packing his books before slowly looking at her. The bell had just rang moments prior, everyone had quickly exited the classroom but them.

His glance was short-almost hesitant-as he froze.

She eyed the bandage wrapped around his hand before asking, “Are you okay? How’d that happen?”

“Broke my hand during basketball practice.” he mumbled while packing his bag at a rather unwarranted pace.

“Oh–well, um, I hope you get better.”

“Thanks.” he said, curtly, before throwing his backpack over one shoulder and fast-walking out of the classroom.

He never spoke to me again.

Just as she adjusted her backpack straps over her shoulders, a white flower was suddenly placed in the open locker before her.

Her eyes widened before she looked over to see Gojo beside her.

His white hair appeared damp, as if he’d just showered. His indigo blue blazer folded haphazardly over his shoulder while the top few buttons of his dress-shirt were left unbuttoned. His proximity didn’t leave her much choice but to inhale his magnetic cologne.

“White hibiscus flowers, your favorite right?”

She glanced back at the single white flower that now rested atop her books in her locker. It was still attached to its stem. It was her favorite–specifically ones with red in the middle, which was exactly the kind he brought.

She liked the look of the red center against the white because it reminded her how the heart was the center of the soul; how emotions make one’s body impure–so it bleeds through its core to the rest of the flower.

At her dumbfounded expression, he smiled.

“I’ve been learning. Millie’s been telling me all about you.”

Ara’s jaw locked.

His hands slipped into his pockets, “Your favorite classes are physics and art. Your favorite teacher is Mrs. Lindsor—I don’t know how,” his nose scrunched disapprovingly, “You like cats. You’ve never been in a relationship before. You’re parents are kinda strict—“

Suddenly he was shoved into the lockers. Her hands gripping his collar as she stared at him with a stern expression.

Her face twisted with agitation as she spat, “Stop talking to my friend about me.”

His eyes widened as he held his hands up, “She speaks.”

Her expression became more enraged as the corner of his lip curled into an attractive grin. Her hands clenched into fists at his collar.

He tilted his head, “Oh? You want to hit me?”

His tongue deftly ran over his bottom lip, “Go ahead.”

When she didn’t move, he only egged her on further, “C’mon, hit me. Do whatever you want.”

A flicker of confusion flashed along her face. As much as she was tempted to… she didn’t trust him. Not one bit.

Why does he want me to? Her grip on his shirt loosened in hesitance.

Suddenly something malicious flashed within his eccentric eyes and before she knew it, he was cupping her face in his hands–forcing her to keep her eyes on him.

“Do whatever you want so I can do whatever I want.”

His words melted like butter on her skin–but if butter was warm, why did she feel so cold? Why did goosebumps arise on her skin?

Her insides churned as she tore herself away from him.

“Stop doing this bullshit. It’s not cute, a-and leave my friend out of this.”

She hated how he looked at her like that–as if she were the most amusing thing he’d ever laid eyes on, “I wouldn’t have to talk to her if you talked to me, you know.”

She squinted, “Are you okay? Seriously-what are you getting out of this?”

“You.” he said simply, as if that were the most logical answer, “I want you.”

Her eyes narrowed further–this had to be some kind of joke. “You’re not funny.” she murmured.

He bent over slightly as he laughed. His laugh was airy and boyish–the kind of laugh that one could easily be drawn to, if she hadn’t found something heavily off about it.

“I’m not joking, Ara.”

He stood up straight after picking his fallen blazer off of the floor. When she’d shoved him, it had slipped from its haphazard placement over his shoulder.

He looked down at her, his blue eyes incredibly mystifying as he hunched before her to look her eye to eye–his index finger holding the collar of his blazer over his shoulder while his other hand was wedged in his pocket.

“Ara.. I can call you that now, right? Now that we’re talkin’ “

She stumbled backward, “We’re not talking. Just leave me alone.”

He smirked, “You’ll come around.”

The confidence oozing from his tone would’ve infuriated her, if it didn’t make her feel unsettled to the bone.

She didn’t understand. Where was that likable, comedic Gojo that everyone else saw? Why was this version of him the one she had to meet? Even if she told anyone about this–no one, literally no one–would believe her.

It wasn’t like she had any friends to tell anyway. Well–Millie maybe but Millie herself was now talking to him.

She struggled to find her words, “I- I said, leave me alone.”

He leaned back, taking his hand out of his pocket to loosen his tie as he sighed, “Why are you makin’ this so hard for me.”

She ignored him, stepping around him to close her locker door shut but he stuck his arm out–firmly holding the locker door open by its top edge.

“Fine.” he looked down at her, his blue eyes blazing with mischief as she appeared startled.

He was so close to her, it was hard to breathe.

His voice dropped an octave lower as he added, “But I expect something in return.”

His eyes dropped to her neck when he saw her visibly swallow. The playfulness in his demeanor shifted into something more dominating.

He raised a brow as she stepped back.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s nothing for me to give you.”

He smirked, closing her locker door for her, “Lies.”

She’d missed her bus again. It was an accident–truly, a fucking accident. It wasn’t her fault that her art teacher wanted her to stay after to talk to her about future art-related career paths when they merely were supposed to chat about her recent artwork.

She writhed in pain on her bed, clutching her gut. It felt bruised from the amount of times her Father had kicked her.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.

She was always her father’s punching bag. Every, damn, time.

She was so sick and tired of it. So angry. She did everything right, everything. But one mistake–one simple fucking mistake–would get him so incredibly triggered. It gave her whiplash everytime.

She was finally at her breaking point. She was done. She was done wallowing in this pitiful fucking mess of her toxic-ass family. Done watching her Mom let her Dad treat them both like pieces of garbage. Tired of nothing changing. She was done.

She just wanted to do something she wanted. Just this once.

She’d talked to Millie on the bus this morning–the only time they ever seemed to talk nowadays but she had mentioned something going on tonight. It was Friday so, there had to be something.

Ara cringed as she reached over to grab her phone from her nightstand. She texted Millie.

A: hey can i come over?

M: r u kidding

M: hell yes, are u even allowed to tho?

A: im gonna sneak out

M: omg no way

M: im like hella shocked rn but hold on, imma use my bros car to pick u up

A: wait don’t stop in front of my house

A: i’m gonna wait at the end of the block

M: bet

A: thanks, lmk when ur here

M: omg im excited, does this mean your coming out tn?

A: yep

M: STOP im hype

M: ok, im omw

Ara put the phone down and sat up. She stared at her wrecked room in silence. It hadn’t been messy until her father had dragged her by the hair into her room from the car. He liked to dramatically throw her shit across the room in the midst of his rages.

She’d gotten used to cleaning his messes, but not tonight.

She grabbed her wallet, phone and keys–stuffing them all into her sweatpants pocket before chewing at her bottom lip diligently as she thought.

The front and back door wasn’t an option, her father had cameras. She’d been contemplating the garage but the longer she thought about it the more hesitant she grew. What if my Dad hears it open? She couldn’t risk it.

She glanced at her window. It looked like that would be her best bet.

She swallowed hard-forcing her nerves down-as she went to the window and shoved it open. She physically winced at the strength that simple action had taken her.

She gave her room one last look before hopping out of the window.

Milie ran the straightener over her hair, “I still can’t believe your here-like what the actual fuck.”

Ara laughed, she was already drunk out of her mind. She’d drunk a couple White Claws and that seemed to be all it took–it was her first time drinking after all.

Millie’s eyes caught Ara’s laugh in the mirror before them. Mille set the straightener down before running her hands through Ara’s hair–smoothing it out further.

“You should smile more often. Your smile’s really pretty.”

Ara set down her white claw before wobblily standing up, “Yeah, yeah. So who’s place are we going tonight?”

Millie smirked, “Nanami’s. His house parties are the fucking best so you picked the best night to sneak out. Nina and her man are gonna pick us up and then we all are gonna go.”

“Nanami Kento?” Ara questioned, “He likes to party?”

“Shoko probably convinced him cuz his house has a heated outdoor pool.”

Ara shrugged, bending over to pick up her White claw again and take another sip. Millie sat at the vanity now, leaning close to the mirror as she applied her lip gloss.

She smacked her lips together, “So.. are you planning on getting your first kiss tonight?”

Ara tilted her head back and finished her canned drink in one gulp. She set the drink down with a giggle.

“Maybe,” she said, before locking eyes with Millie through the mirror and they both laughed.

Millie swiveled around in her stool, “About time, girl! What’re you gonna do if some guy wants to go further?”

She shrugged, “I’m down. Honestly, I’m down to lose my virginity tonight for all I care, I just wanna have fun.”

Millie laughed, “Look at you today! I’m-like-shocked. Are you sure you're Ara? Or did you get possessed?”

“I didn’t do my Physics homework yet.” she mumbled distractedly to herself.

Mille chuckled, now applying extra powder to her face, “Girl, it’s Friday. You have the whole weekend. But please make sure you do it and send it to me cuz there’s no way I’m gonna do it.”

They stood on the porch of Nanami’s mansion. Voices and music could be heard blasting within the house from outside. Ara’s gaze was stuck on the perfect landscaping done on Nanami’s front yard. Her eyes lingering on the white hibiscus flower bushes that were planted outside his house.

They looked so pretty under the moonlight.

Millie gently touched Ara’s arm, catching her attention.

Mille grinned before squealing, “I’m so excited for you to experience your first party.”

Roland snorted, “No one’s gonna know that it’s you.”

His dark eyes looked her up and down, “Honestly, I still don’t believe it.”

Nina placed her hand on her boyfriend's chest. Her and Roland had been dating for two years now. He’d driven them all here–and as much as she was grateful for the ride, she didn’t appreciate his leering gaze at her body, especially with Nina right in front of him.

Nina remained oblivious, “Listen, Straight A students need to have some fun too. No one stays boring forever.”

Sober Ara might’ve had different words to say but intoxicated Ara merely laughed, “Sure, exactly that.”

Roland continued to glance at her curiously until the door swung open.

Toji stood in the doorway, “Hey, kids. Sorry to keep you waitin’ “

Toji was older than them by a few years–only because he refused to graduate for some reason. Either he was too dumb or just didn’t care. If there was one thing everyone knew he was good at-it was pulling women-it was football. He was captain of the football team for a reason.

He dapped Roland up as he let him and Nina enter. Roland was also on the football team.

“Who’re you?” he suddenly asked as Ara stepped forward.

His narrow green eyes looked her up and down–even if he was expressionless it felt as though he were eating her up with his eyes.

She knew she looked good–even if none of the clothes were hers. Millie had completely transformed her look with just a few simple pieces.

She wore a light blue, lace-y tube top that showcased quite a bit of her bare hips and navel. The fitted top also outlined the shape of her rather full breasts, which she’d typically kept hidden underneath the blazer of her uniform. She knew what attention they would draw on her smaller frame so she never wore her uniform without the blazer.

Then for bottoms she wore a simple tight black mini-skirt that revealed her smooth legs. Thank god Millie had extra razors so she’d shaved at her house. And for shoes, she wore her typical black Converses–unfortunately Millie and her weren’t the same shoe size. (a/n: i swear i didn't do this to make her basic. she ends up having to walk home so i jus didn't want my girl to suffer :,) & yES ik she's not real but idc idc)

Millie took her hand, “It’s Ara Natsuna, dumbass.”

She saw Toji’s brows draw together in confusion before his eyes widened, “You’re shitting me. Quiet girl?”

Before she had the chance to respond, Millie was suddenly pulling her inside.

Millie spoke as she dragged her through the mass of people, “He was totally gonna try chat you up–”

Millie suddenly stopped, “Wait, did you want him to?”

Ara shook her head. Don’t get her wrong, Toji was attractive as hell, but she’d rather not start her party debut with someone that passed around.

Though, that might just be how she felt right now. Who knows where the night will take her?

Suddenly a few of Millie’s friends called out her name and they both were thrown into a mass of greeting people. People were incredibly astonished to see her–continuously making stupid comments asking if she’d decided to leave the books behind. Joke or not, it was incredibly shallow.

They acted like being hot and smart wasn’t possible at the same time. It was annoying–but she was too drunk to care.

Millie suddenly ran off and Ara stumbled slightly as she went after her–but then froze in her steps.

Millie had run to Gojo, who was sitting on a couch's armrest. His long limbs easily held him up as he reached over to return Millie’s side hug.

“Millie Mills.” he greeted in a light, singsong tone.

He wore a simple black tee shirt with matching pants. Despite the simpleness of the outfit, his shirt fit just right on his lean frame–tightening around his muscular waist and shoulders when he raised his hand to pat Mille’s head.

Her throat went dry.

Millie and her had already talked about Gojo. She tried to tell her to not talk to him and Millie seemed to half heartedly agree–using lame excuses like he’s fun to talk to or that he’s hot. She didn’t know how to tell her that Gojo talking to her out of the blue wasn’t a coincidence–even if he possibly did like her as a friend or whatnot now, he was not to be trusted.

Millie said she didn't like like him but the way she was pressing her chest against him displayed otherwise.

Millie had tried to tell her to give him a chance–eagerly telling her on their bus rides that Gojo kept asking about her but Ara refused. She didn’t want to hear one-fucking-second of it. She didn’t care if Gojo never asked about a girl before. She didn’t care if Gojo mostly fucked cheerleaders. She didn’t care if he hadn’t been in a relationship in the past four years since he moved here.

He was weird, annoying and obnoxious—and that was that.

The vibe she got off of him was nowhere near safe either. She honestly didn’t even know how Millie felt comfortable hugging him.

Millie went on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear and he bent his head lower to make it easier for her.

I found out what she whispered in his ear later...

Suddenly his head snapped up and their eyes locked.

Despite being a distance away, the ominous feeling within her gut still arose the moment his intricate crystal-like eyes met hers. She had no choice but to freeze under his gaze when he gave her body a slow perusal.

If Toji had been eating her up with his eyes before, Gojo’s eyes were devouring her–his attentive gaze ravaging each piece of her unveiled body with such greed, she couldn’t take it. She felt like she was standing naked under his gaze. There was something so vile and unhinged about the dark look that had slipped across his face; she suddenly felt like she shouldn’t have come here.

His expression hadn’t even changed much, his jaw simply clenching and his hand on Millie’s head suddenly slid down to the back of her neck.

Millie jumped slightly when Gojo’s hand tightened around her nape.

His eyes never left Ara’s as he spoke, “I thought you were lying–tellin’ me what I wanted to hear.”

Millie glanced at him, a bit nervous at the new terseness of his tone, “W-why would I do that?” she said, with a slightly timid, childish laugh.

“I’m not a liar.” Millie added, playfully, before placing a hand on Gojo’s thigh to steady herself.

That was all Ara needed to see to know that Millie still hadn’t cut off contact with him. Her insides twisted with disgust. She’d known that the other girl hadn’t fully agreed to stop talking to him but–Christ, it just looked so low.

Knowing that he was interested in her ‘friend’ and that her ‘friend’ found him creepy and still getting all close to him? What was even the point?

Ara stepped back-keeping the emotions hidden from her face as she subtly waved at Millie–signaling that she was gonna go elsewhere. She hadn’t talked to Gojo in a week and she didn’t plan on changing that now. Millie gave her a thumbs up.

Gojo’s eyes followed her before she disappeared somewhere into the kitchen.

Suddenly, someone nudged his knee.

Gojo turned his head to see Geto looking at him curiously. Geto sat, fully relaxed, in the exorbitant couch that he was sitting on the armrest of.

“What is it?” Geto asked while withdrawing the joint from his mouth.

“She’s here.” Millie responded, her attempt at including herself in the group of lethally attractive men before her.

“Who’s she?” Nanami asked-dryly-from the loveseat beside the couch that Geto and Gojo occupied. He didn’t look up from his phone.

Before Geto could respond, Gojo was suddenly questioning Millie, “You convinced her to come here?” The seriousness in his tone made the other boys go quiet.

Nanami glanced up from his phone.

Millie shook her head, “No, she wanted to come herself.”

“Thought you said her parents were strict.”

She shrugged, “Dunno. She snuck out.”

Gojo released her neck, a look of contemplation passing over his features as he rubbed his chin, “Somethings up.”

“Isn’t there always.” Millie mused, while playing with his fingers.

He raised the hand Millie was fiddling with to her face, his long fingers easily covering its entirety as he pushed her face back.

“Satoru! My lip gloss.” she exclaimed as he stood up. He gave her a wink before disappearing off into the throng of people.

She sat down on the armrest Gojo had just left from with a huff.

Geto didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, he indirectly addressed Nanami by saying, “He’s mad.”

“Satoru?” Nanami questioned, glancing up from his phone again.

Geto nodded.

“How do you know?” Nanami asked, “He looked normal to me.”’

Geto shrugged–not knowing how to expand on it because he wasn’t sure how he himself knew, but he was more than sure of it.

Toji arrived with three beers in his hands. He popped a cap open with his teeth before throwing himself back on the loveseat beside Nanami.

“Jus saw the sexiest chick I’ve seen in a while.. Her tits were-phew.” Toji shook his head before taking a swig.

“If you're talking about Ara, leave her alone.” Millie bit back.

“Oh? That a challenge?” He smirked at Millie. They’d fucked once–okay, maybe more than once—but, like every girl who tried, she couldn’t tie him down.

“Don’t even try it.” Geto warned.

If this was how parties were like, she never wanted it to end.

Loud music pounded through the pristine, wide-ceiling walls of Nanami’s house. The strong scent of weed, alcohol and a plethora of expensive colognes and perfume in the air. Voices—so much chatter, laughter and familiar faces. Everyone seemed so chill and.. happy.

She handed the joint back to the guy beside her with a loud cough—more coughing followed as she continued to breathe.

“Shit, is this your first time?” he asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

She turned her head back to see Noel. She’d always seen him around school but they barely interacted—he wasn’t in the same classes as her. Besides, he hung with a completely different crowd. He was on the swim team. And, gosh, he was hot.

She didn’t know how she managed to grab his attention when she’d merely been walking around the outdoor pool. He was sitting in one of the surrounding lounge chairs and asked if she wanted to ‘cyph’.

She’d agreed—despite having no clue what that meant. It didn’t take her long to realize that it was just another term for smoking w33d. (a/n: idk if tumblr censors words or not so imma jus keep spelling it like that. y'all know what i mean anyway~)

They now sat shoulder to shoulder on the lounge chair. He was laughing beside her.

She frowned once her coughing subsided, “Are you laughing at me?”

He shook his head, pieces of his dark brown hair falling over his forehead in the process.

“Nah, I should’ve figured. I never seen you at one of these parties before.”

She wasn’t sure if it was drugs or alcohol in her system but god, the subtle grin on his lips was so hot. He had one of those smiles that made it hard to look away from his lips.

No wonder Millie hooked up with him sophomore year.

Something about that thought made her pry her eyes away.

His hand came up to her back, “You want another hit?”

She glanced back at him, shaking her head, “I need a minute. My throat feels so..” she didn’t know how to describe it.

He laughed once more, running his hand down her back reassuringly.

“I know. My first time smoking was like that too. I was coughing like a bitch.”

He then asked her, “Do you want a drink?”

“Millie said not to drink the stuff here.”

His subtle grin returned, “She’s probably right… is that who you came with? Millie?”

She nodded.

“How do you know her?”

“I met her on the bus.” They’d always sat next to each other since kindergarten.

“That’s cool.” he dropped his hand from her back, and offered her his joint, “You wanna hold onto this for me while I go get us some drinks?”

She took it from his hand with a nod.

As he stood up he noticed the look of disappointment on her face. Though, he didn’t know the reasoning behind it. She was still thinking about Millie—her one and only friend, who never took her word seriously.

“Aw, don’t look like that,” he bent down to give her a light kiss on the cheek.

He ruffled the top of her hair, “I’ll be right back.”

She offered him a small smile before watching him walk off.

The front door slammed shut—loud enough to be heard over the music. Everyone in the mansion paused for a second as people began to glance around and murmur.

Nanami jumped up from the loveseat, “The hell was that?”

Geto and Toji stood up as well.

Gojo suddenly appeared before them. His white hair more disheveled than usual as he smoothed down his black shirt. There was a hint of a bruise forming on his cheekbone.

Geto stepped towards him, “What happened?” he demanded.

“Oh, I just kicked Noel out.” his tone oddly light.

He shrugged before looking at Nanami, “I caught him tryna steal somethin’ in your Mommy’s room.”

“Noel?” Nanami questioned. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Nanami was captain of the swim team. He’d spent a considerable amount of time with Noel, who was on his team.

Something in Gojo’s eyes shifted as he stared at Nanami—the lightheartedness in his tone moments prior gone, “Are you doubting me?”

Toji’s eyes widened before he took another swig of beer.

Nanami’s brows furrowed until Gojo suddenly threw his head back in laughter.

He placed a hand on Nanami’s shoulder, giving it a good squeeze before leaning close. Geto’s eyes lingered on the red marks along Gojo’s knuckles.

“Don’t worry, Nanamiiin, I took care of it,” he tilted his head, “You can scold him all you want whenever you see him at practice.”

He released Nanami’s shoulder with a bright smirk on his lips.

Nanami eyed him, “Just don’t slam my door.”

Gojo held his hands up-as if he were instructed to do so by the police-before walking backwards haphazardly.

He wriggled his fingers playfully, “No promises.”

Ara watched the girls play in the pool with a bored expression. They looked like they were having so much fun.

What’s taking him so long?

She looked down at the joint in her hand. She’d taken a couple hits–even if it made her cough quite a bit, but she couldn’t help but wonder where Noel had gone. He should’ve been here by now.

She picked up his joint and lighter with a frown before walking around the pool to head back inside the house. Her drunk self too unaware of her surroundings to notice the many lingering eyes on her as she passed.

She entered the mansion, heading to the kitchen to see if Noel was there.

Her eyes scanned the spacious kitchen in awe. It had to be the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen. Whoever designed it’s interior managed to merge a modern yet home-y feel perfectly. Its red, cream and dark brown color scheme also gave a sort of regal appeal.

She stumbled over to the nearest canvas hung on the wall. It was huge. It showcased a beautiful view of vast hills and a sunset colored sky. Her fingers gently ran over the painting, only for her eyes to widen when she realized it was actually hand-painted, not printed. Her eyes widening further when she saw an elegant black signature at the painting's bottom right corner.

Who knows how much this thing costs.

“Natsuna? No way.”

She turned her head to see Jaemin. He wore a black wife beater, showing off the small tattoos that marked his tan collarbones and toned arms. They never spoke before but she’d be lying if she said his wolf-cut didn’t suit him.

She raised a brow, “You know my name?”

He laughed, “Of course. We’ve been going to the same school since forever.”

She turned around fully, letting her back lean against the wall as she absentmindedly played with a strand of her hair.

“I guess.. I look hot enough for you to speak to me now.” she stated, dryly-the words slipping off her tongue without a second thought. Alcohol was truly something else.

He chuckled as he drew closer, “Pft, you were always hot. I liked your little quiet, mysterious girl look.”

A laugh escaped her lips as she repeated, “Quiet, mysterious girl look?”

She placed her hand on his chest when he stood directly in front of her. He bent his head low to touch her forehead with his. Whatever his cologne was-it was entirely too addicting.

He raised his hand with a red solo cup to her cheek. His knuckles skimming the side of her face as he spoke, “You always look like you wanna be left alone or else I woulda bothered you a long time ago.”

She smirked wryly. “Sure.”

He returned her smirk with one of his own, “Let me prove it–”

Suddenly his phone buzzed, and he froze. He held her gaze a second longer before glancing down between them, at the phone in his hand.

He shook his head subtly, “Gotta get more drinks.”

He patted her hip, “Stay right here.”

She nodded.

He gave her a little smirk before walking off.

“Damn Gojo, don’t you got your lil lackeys around for this?” Jaemin grumbled to himself.

He didn’t mind Gojo at all—in fact, he actually kinda liked the guy-but it wasn’t like they were tight or anything. The only reason why he decided to ‘listen’ was because Gojo never asked him for a favor before. He figured it was a once in a blue moon typa thing. Hell, could’ve even been a drunk text. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see Nanami’s family’s wine cellar.

He walked downstairs, glancing around at the movie theater room before him.

“Fuck, what damn part of the basement am I at now.”

He walked further into the room, past the large screen, towards the drinks bar. He leaned on the counter to glance around, only to spot empty champagne flutes instead of bottles.

He frowned before spotting the open double door beside the mini bar.

He pushed himself off the counter and walked into the wide wine cellar. He whistled.

He walked up to one of the bottles and easily plucked one out.

“Holy shit, 18 year old Scotch?” he gaped, “Shit probably tastes like ass.”

He carefully placed it back.

“Too bad Gojo wants beer.” he muttered, though he wasn’t really complaining.

But where the hell is the be—Oh.

He spotted the mini circular, blue, window that was stuck into a door in the wall. How could he forget? Nanami’s infamous walk-in freezer.

He pulled open the door and walked inside.

Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin the second he stepped within. It was neatly arranged and brightly lit. He walked further inside and spotted the untouched stack of canned beer on the shelf.

“Bless.” he muttered before reaching out to grab a couple.

Just as he juggled a few cans in his hands, the freezer door slammed shut.

His head snapped around, eyes widening before he dropped all the cans in his hands and ran to the door. He tried the handle before slamming his hands onto the door.

“YO! Hello?! Open this shit up!” he hollered, while glancing through the mini window. He saw no one.

At first he’d thought it was a stupid prank from one of his boys who might’ve followed him into the basement but… there was no one.

“HELLO?!!” he yelled once more, looking through the window with more intensity.

He didn’t understand how the door could’ve closed if someone didn’t pull it shut—he assumed it may have been an auto-lock timer on the door or something.

He broke out in a cold sweat when he realized no one could hear him. Not over the loud ass music.

His hand went to pocket to check for his phone. Maybe he could call—

“Fuck!” he hollered as he harshly patted his empty pockets.

He’d set his phone down on one of the shelves in the wine cellar when he’d grabbed that aged Scotch.

His breathing slowed when realization hit him like a truck. No phone. No one to hear him. No one in the basement.

If he didn’t get help soon, he was gonna freeze.

And it didn’t help that he was wearing a wife beater.

Of course I had to wear a fucking wife beater to-fucking-day.

He clenched his teeth, running his hands quickly over his arms. The cold was starting to settle in, alongside a large dose of panic.

His eyes dilated in fear before he slammed his hands against the freezer doors once more.

“SOMEONE!!! HELP!! GET ME OUT— HELP!!”

In the midst of his panic, a shot of hope suddenly zipped up his spine.

Gojo. That’s right—Gojo!

Gojo had been the one to text him ‘Yo yo, get more beer from the basement will ya¿ tyyy ;)’ so there was a chance Gojo would notice that he was gone. That he didn’t come back with drinks.

Gojo would help him—Gojo would remember him.. right?

Jaemin’s teeth began to chatter.

“Fuck!” he hugged himself once more before throwing his whole body against the freezer door. It didn’t budge.

“HELP!! SOMEONE HELP ME OUTTA HERE!!!”

He grabbed the phone from the shelf.

A smirk graced his lips, “Too easy.”

He was counting on the weak internet connection in Nanami’s wine cellar to-at least-delay Jaemin from contacting others. Or his phone to shut down from the freezer’s low temperature by the time he realized he could call someone. Jaemin wasn’t exactly the brightest guy.

But this. This was so much better.

He chuckled to himself as he walked through the dimly lit theater. Tossing the phone back and forth within his hands as he easily made his way back to the main floor from Nanami’s multi-level basement.

Just as he rejoined the boisterous party, he spotted a large fish tank installed within the wall.

He wandered over, bending over to peer at the various koi fish inside. Several of the multi-colored fish bounded over–their eager mouths opening and closing as they bumped into the glass, expecting food.

“Hey guys, miss me?” he mused.

He tapped the corner of the fish tank with his knuckle three times.

The fish tank slowly retracted from the wall. The fish all swam to the top. Their eager mouths bobbing through the water.

He smirked as he dropped the phone within the fish tank’s clear blue waters.

“Keep this safe for me, will ya?”

Ara stood in the kitchen, growing more irritated by the second.

Where is Jaemin? Or Noel?

She crossed her arms. Did I really get ditched by two guys in the same night?

Despite that possibility, for some reason her gut feeling told her that that wasn’t it.

She sighed, glancing down at her hand. She still had Noel’s joint and lighter. She decided to take another hit.

She coughed—having inhaled a little too fast. The woozy feeling that followed made her obnoxious coughing worth it.

She’d never felt so relaxed before. It was almost too relaxed. Relaxed enough that it almost felt wrong.

Everything was so enhanced it was absolutely riveting. The music. The colors. The voices. Maybe it was a good thing she’d never tried w33d until now—she saw exactly why people could get addicted. Even if the smell wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Just as she raised the joint to her lips again, a new crowd of people entered the kitchen. Rambunctious as ever.

She spotted Arman. She knew he was a close friend of Noel’s. They both were on the swim team.

She impulsively stepped up to him, “Hey-“

Before she could get another word in she was interrupted.

Arman’s eyes widened, “Holy shit—Natsuna?”

She immediately reddened. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead she smiled slightly.

“That’s me.”

He glanced at the joint in her hand, “Wait, you smoke too? Damn, girl. Double agent, for real.”

She was too high to care about his little comments. Quite frankly she’d been hearing it so much tonight it was getting boring.

“I don’t smoke. Today was my first time.”

He raised a brow, “Really?”

He eyed her joint, “Then where’d you get that from?”

“Noel. Do you know where he is?”

Arman’s brows furrowed. He seemed completely lost in thought, as if it was taking him a lot of brain cells to think.

“I don’t know, I think he left.” he finally slurred out.

“He left?” she questioned, surprised.

“Yeah, some dude told me he got kicked out but I don’t know. He didn’t respond to my texts.”

“Kicked out? What did he do?”

He didn’t answer, instead he reached into his cargo pants and shuffled out his phone from his pocket.

He handed her his phone—showing her the screen of the several, horribly misspelled texts that he’d sent Noel. It seemed Noel had left him on delivered.

She sighed, handing the phone back to him.

“Thanks.”

Suddenly a moment of clarity seemed to pass over Arman’s eyes.

He clasped her arm, “Wait, was Noel your ride here?”

She blinked, too drunk to recall, “I.. I don’t know.”

“Shit,” he let go of her arm, “Let me know if you need a ride home.”

She laughed, her unfiltered thoughts slipping off her tongue, “There’s no way I’m sitting in the same car as you.”

“What?” a hint of a dashing smile revealed itself, “Why not?”

“Because do you see yourself? You're drunk as shit.”

He threw his head back, laughing a little too loosely. She couldn’t help but laugh while watching him.

He set his eyes back on her, “And you think you’re not?”

Her brows furrowed, “I think.. I’m sober enough.”

“If you’re sober then we’re all sober.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ha ha.”

Arman threw his arm around her shoulder, “You’re staying with me.”

Arman had introduced her to a few of his friends. It took her a millisecond to forget their names and faces.

His hand was in hers as they walked through the swarm of people. Her legs hurt from how much they’d walked around.

It’d been fun though, exploring the mansion with him and his friends. She almost hoped that she would remember it.

The next thing she knew she was being tugged and suddenly she was on someone’s lap.

She glanced over to see Arman sitting on a loveseat. His deeper, tan skin glowed handsomely underneath the colorful lights. It only emphasized his dashing, perfect-toothed smile. She couldn’t help but compare his smile to a Disney Prince.

She’d rarely seen him around at school. He was a junior but he was undoubtedly attractive. His jet black hair was slightly outgrown in that rugged way, with a few strands hovering over his forehead.

She attempted to move his hair off of his forehead only for it to fall right back in place.

She let out a laugh.

“You’re really pretty.” he blurted.

She glanced at him. Into his dark eyes, that were surrounded by-jealousy inducing-lengthy lashes.

She placed her hands on his shoulders.

Her voice wavered, suddenly feeling shy, “Yeah?”

He nodded, his hands sliding around her waist—drawing her closer. Their faces millimeters apart.

“You.. don’t like Noel right?” he asked, sounding almost nervous.

She laughed a bit, “I just met him today.”

Their noses nudged into each other and he smirked, “Then.. he shouldn’t mind, right?”

She smiled a bit, “I don’t think he’ll mind..”

His smirk widened as their lips barely brushed against each others, “He won’t.”

She bit her lower lip, her tone playful, “He won’t?”

“He won’t.” he responded, gruffly before crashing his lips into hers.

Her first kiss.

She was too drunk-high-crossed to know what she was doing. She pressed her lips into his—merely trying to mimic his movements. His lips tasted of alcohol.

His hands were touching her all over. Sliding up the curve of her waist, grabbing her hips and even fondling one of her boobs. His thumb rubbing against one of her nipples through her top.

She moaned against his lips.

His hand slid to her thigh, moving her leg over his hard-on through his jeans. A jolt of nerves suddenly shot up her spine.

She broke the kiss. She was out of breath and her face felt hot.

Suddenly, an ice-cold voice sounded from somewhere near them, “You guys should get a room.”

They both glanced over to see Gojo standing in front of them, drink in hand.

His expression was stone-cold. His bright blue eyes latching onto hers and for some reason, she knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Suddenly a wildly handsome, playful smile spread across his lips. To others the sight must’ve been nothing short of appealing but it felt nothing but menacing to her.

She swallowed, her throat dry.

“Gojo!” Arman greeted, friendly.

They fist bumped.

“You jealous?” Arman teased.

His blazing blue eyes slid over to Arman, his smile widening. She didn’t miss the way his fingers tightened around his glass.

“More than you know.” he mused, airily. “As much as I’d love to watch you two go at it out here, Nanami would freak. Better take it to his Mom’s room. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find some toys in there.”

Arman snorted humorously, “You’re fucked.”

Suddenly Gojo grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“Not as fucked as she is.”

That amused smile still pasted on his lips. But his eyes—she could feel the darkness swimming within them despite how blazingly blue they were. They were frigid with something so prominent she wondered how no one else saw it.

She immediately felt her body tense under his touch. She shoved his hand off of her.

His smile twisted into a wicked grin. She didn’t miss the hard edge to his curled lips.

She tugged at Arman’s hand, “Lets go.”

She wanted to get away from him. Far, far away from him.

Arman stood up, patting Gojo’s shoulder as he chuckled. Everything seemed to be funny to Arman. She couldn’t help but notice that the boys were also close in height.

“Shhh, bro.” he joked along with him. Not realizing that they were talking about completely different things.

Gojo merely winked before pressing his drink into Arman’s chest.

“One for the road?” he offered.

“Hell yeah.” Arman took the drink out of his hand and tilted his head back—downing it all in one go.

Gojo whistled as Arman handed the empty glass back to him.

Gojo lightly punched his arm, “I knew I liked you. Go have fun.”

Arman grinned, “You know I will.”

They both shared a chuckle before Arman faced her. His arms slipped around her waist.

He placed a couple light kisses on her neck, but she was stiller than stone. Her eyes were latched onto Gojo’s face—whose smile was slowly slipping away by the second.

She quickly turned away from him and faced Arman. A soft, hesitant smile on her lips.

He returned her smile with one of his own, “You wanna go upstairs?”

“S-sure.”

He pecked her cheek once more before slipping his hand through hers. He led them through the swarm of people once more.

She hated that she felt Gojo’s eyes on her back. The feeling made her shiver.

She refused to glance back.

They got lost trying to find the upstairs like twice. Only to realize they’d walked past it multiple times because the stairs were not well lit.

A few people stood at the bottom of the stairwell. Talking and chatting while her and Arman laughed quietly as they walked past them up the steps.

The group eyed them as they walked past.

Her and Arman had passed that group multiple times when they’d gotten lost so she could only imagine how odd they looked to them. Watching them go in circles around the house again and again.

She was a complete ball of giggles as they climbed up the spiral glass staircase.

He flashed her a subtle smile, before poking her.

“Shhh, keep it down, missy.” he teased her.

She almost broke out in another fit of giggles until he suddenly stopped.

He released her hand to hold onto the railing. His eyes were wide.

Her brows furrowed as she peeked up at him. She stood on the same step as him.

“Are you okay?” she asked once she noticed him look somewhat off.

He was sweating bullets.

The next thing she knew he turned his face aside and he was retching all over the steps, liquid pouring out.

Her hands went to her mouth as he stumbled down a couple steps, flimsily holding onto the railing for some balance.

He looked up at her, she stood a few steps atop him.

His eyes were bloodshot, face blotchy, his hair slick with sweat. His shirt was stained with the dark liquid of his vomit. All he’d vomited out was liquor.

He raised his foot, as if attempting to climb up one more step only to release the railing and go staggering backwards. The people at the end of steps yelled and moved out of the way as he crash landed into the floor.

A few people hadn’t moved out in time and managed to get hit by his rather tall frame, but now he lay sprawled on the floor. His red eyes wide open, arms splayed out, completely still.

His head moved slightly, as if trying to turn his face aside—only for white foam to start pouring out from his lips. His body began to convulse.

“Arman!” she screamed, running down the steps.

She dropped to her knees, by his side. She stared at him, worry consuming her as she held her hands out—unsure what to do.

She needed to find Millie. Millie might be sober enough to help her figure out this situation.

She stood up shakily. Her knees wobbly with terror as she looked down at Arman’s convulsing body. People’s shouts and murmurs all white noise to her.

More and more people seemed to gather around him.

She swiftly pushed her way through the crowd only to bump into an incredibly hard chest.

Her body went cold.

She looked up to see Gojo’s eyes already on her. She swore something in his eyes crackled, like blue flames.

His fingers grazed her forearm before grasping her. His large hand easily encapsulated the entirety of her elbow, “Go on. Find another plaything. I can do worse.”

The underlying threat veiled by his darkly charming smirk made goosebumps break across her skin. Her throat went dry in terror.

Her eyes widened as it clicked, “You… it was you..”

Noel. Jaemin. Arman. He’d done something to them.

He tilted his head, strands of his white hair becoming more disheveled in the process.

He raised a white brow as he waited for her to complete her response. His dangerous smile only widening.

The confidence sweeping off of him unsettled her to bone—enough to make her choke on her words.

“What did you do?” she whispered in shock.

“Nothing I regret.”

She stepped back, shoving his hand off of her.

She cupped her elbow-where his hand had been moments ago. Her skin still buzzed from the aftermath of their contact.

“What did you do to them?” she asked, her voice shaky.

His eyes bounced with amusement as she stared at him in absolute horror. The feeling of fear coursing within her only amplified by the drugs and alcohol in her body.

“What did you do to Arman?” she demanded.

His hand slipped out of his pocket, revealing a little zip lock baggie of pills. Some of the pills were crushed, leaving a powdery residue on the sides of the bag.

She eyed the bag. He caught the unsureness in her eyes.

“You know what this is?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Molly.”

Her eyes widened—especially when she remembered Arman had downed the drink Gojo gave him without a second's hesitance.

Who knows how much he put in there.

“Y-you’re sick.”

He chuckled—chuckled.

The faint sound of sirens pierced through the music. It seemed someone had called the ambulance.

“This is nothing.”

I wish he was lying.

“He’s seizing on the floor.” she sputtered.

“And?”

Her heartbeat stopped—her eyes instinctively meeting his once more. The smirk on his lips had dulled some, but his eyes. There was almost an ethereal glow to them—but instead of finding it beautiful, she found it deeply disturbing.

“You aren’t his to touch.”

She was speechless. The uneasy feeling in her gut pulsed through her—urging her-screaming at her to get away from him. As far away as she could.

She staggered backwards, his sharp eyes and fading smile never leaving her as she disappeared into the crowd.

I should’ve never gone to that party.

Ara walked with her phone in her hand. The sky was dark, but the brightly lit mansions along the street kept the streets rather well lit.

Each mansion was more spacious and grandly landscaped than the next—almost as if in competition. Some had fountains and others had marble driveways. It was mind-boggling.

She glanced over her shoulder, looking back at Nanami’s house. The ambulance was parked outside, alongside several police cars.

She’d gone searching for Millie first, the second she’d gotten away from Gojo. But she couldn’t find the other girl anywhere.

She stopped her search the second she heard cops pounding on the mansion doors. She’d escaped through the back door.

She watched the house observantly from over her shoulder. The music and voices could still be heard from down the street.

She saw a paramedic and a few cops dragging a stretcher out to the ambulance.

Her heart lurched as she remembered just the look of distraught that had passed along Arman’s face a second before he stumbled down the stairs.

An image of his helpless body, lying on the ground at an awkward angle, with foam bubbling out of his mouth.

She flinched. She hadn’t felt that scared in a long time.

And Gojo.

She was still too drunk to fully process what he’d done. Too inebriated to fully acknowledge it.

She shook her head, raking a hand through her hair as she glanced down at her phone.

An unfamiliar number had texted and called—multiple times.

163-7263-1555: ara its me

163-7263-1555 (2) missed calls

163-7263-1555: pick up

163-7263-1555: silent treatment againnn :///

163-7263-1555: shouldn’t i be the one mad right now

She was more than sure it was Gojo. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten her number, maybe Millie had given it to him.

She’d rather die before texting him.

She switched from the messenger app to Google maps. She was following the walking directions to her home address. Even if it was 39 minutes away, she didn’t care. She wanted to go home.

She didn’t want to ever party again.

I should’ve never gone home that night.

She stood in the middle of her room. It was still just as messy as her father had left it.

It was like walking back from one nightmare to another.

She sighed, walking over to make sure her bedroom door was still locked. She knew if her dad had wanted to come check on her could’ve, he had a key.

He preferred to kick it down sometimes despite that.

She raked a hand through her hair before deciding to clean one section of the mess. Maybe it would ease her nerves—she was almost sure sleep wasn’t going to come easy to her tonight.

She bent down, picking up the fallen papers beside her desk. Her legs ached from her long walk. Luckily it hadn’t been too cold outside.

Suddenly a slight sound came from her window.

Her head spun and she eyed it warily.

What was that?

Nothing was different—at first glance anyway. She swallowed, unsure what to make of it.

She glanced over when she spotted her phone on the bed light up. It casted an ominous white glow to a corner of her dim room, along the ceiling and wall.

She hadn’t kept any lights on. Using the moonlight pouring from the window as her only source of light.

Her stomach swam with uneasiness. She was too uncertain to move.

Her whole body tensed when she heard faint shuffling noises by her window. Her eyes widened when she saw a hand grasp her window ledge then, before she knew it, a figure appeared.

He was squatting, his legs wide open over the narrow window ledge. The same ledge she used moments ago, to climb back into her room.(a/n: y’all kno that one official art pic of gojo squatting, legs wide & his thumb under his blindfold, yeA that one ;)

A smirk lit the edge of his lip when he spotted her.

He raised his hand and knocked on the window, as if prompting her.

She didn’t move—merely rooted in spot-in shock.

No fucking way.

When he realized she wasn’t going to open the window his shoulders sagged. His expression darkened as she heard him mutter through the glass-

“Do I have to do everything myself?”

He used the hand that wasn’t pressed flat against the window to grab onto the slim rail. After a bit of shuffling he pushed the window up.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed and she immediately stood up.

He’s going to come inside.

She glanced towards her bedroom door but then stopped. She glanced down at herself.

She hadn’t changed out of her outfit from the party. Her dad was surely going to kill her if he saw her in this outfit. Her dad was sure to kill her for even being up at this hour.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Araa.” his voice was light, almost teasing.

She spun around, eyes wide with panic when she saw Gojo standing within her room. He looked so tall, his head too close to the ceiling.

Her room wasn’t exactly small but the mess made it look so. And his tall, slender frame made it look even smaller.

He stood right underneath the moonlight emitting from the window, it gave the ends of his frosty white hair a glossy hue.

He looked radiant.

Every detail of his pretty blue eyes defined in the dark.

Maybe I should scream..

A croak left her lips.

Her drunk mind raged with indecision. She knew she should scream, wake her father… but she was terrified. Terrified of picking the wrong demon to deal with.

Her father was predictable. He’d hit Gojo then hurt her twice as bad once he kicked Gojo out. She winced at the thought–but Gojo-Gojo was unpredictable. There was no guarantee what he would do…

Maybe I can get him to leave.. She was terrified of rousing her dad. He’d already beat her once today–if he beat her again she wasn’t sure she could handle it. And if she had to explain where she’d been… he’d kill her. She was sure of it.

Gojo tilted his head, “Aren’t you goin’ to talk to me?”

Her body shook slightly, “What-are you doing here.” She meant to sound firm but her voice came out raspy instead.

He took a step towards her while teasingly mocking her tone, “Why-the hell don’t you answer your phone.”

She took several steps back, fighting to keep her voice calm, “Y-you need to leave–”

He continued to slowly walk towards her, his eyes skimming over the mess in her room curiously, “If you picked up my call I could’ve taken you home, y’know. You didn’t have to walk.”

She held out her hand, “Stop.”

She stopped him a second before he could stand directly in front of her. Despite him being a few feet away from her, his tall frame easily blocked her sight from most of the room. His head was bent as he looked down at her.

She scrambled backwards a few steps, nearly tripping over the mess in her room multiple times just to regain more distance between them.

“Don’t come close to me,” she warned, her voice shaky, “Get out, Gojo. I’m serious. Get. Out.”

His eyes twinkled, “But I just got here.” he whined.

Her hand shook as she kept it held up in the air. “Just go.” she whispered, her tone harsh.

The glint of amusement within his eyes was all too demeaning. He tilted his head.

“What’re you gonna do, princess.”

Her mouth went dry, she struggled to find her words. Her heart pounded in her ears.

“I’ll scream.”

A dangerously handsome smile split across his lips. He shook his head.

“My dads home.” she warned.

His eyes latched onto hers, “Then why didn’t you scream when I came in.”

She felt something constrict in her throat.

She didn’t know how to tell him that despite him entering her house against her will-her Dad was guaranteed to twist the story and blame her. He might beat Gojo but he’d beat her worse. Because it would be her fault that Gojo got into the house. It would be her fault for not locking her window. It would be her fault for even knowing who Gojo was–

Because everything was always. her. fault.

She swallowed–feeling absolutely sick.

“You want me here.”

Her eyes immediately flitted up to his, “No.”

“Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit,” she spat.

His eyes blazed as he taunted, “Then scream.”

Her body tensed with indecision–panic. Her throat constricted once more as she tried to think through the fear. She had to pick the lesser of two evils.

Her mind instantly became plagued with terror at the thought of waking her Dad. Just imagining his potential anger made her want to sob. But Gojo–he wasn’t listening.

“Please-” her voice cracked before she clenched her jaw, “Just get out.”

Suddenly he was crossing the distance between them, easily stepping over the mess.

Her eyes widened, instinctively backing up until her back hit her bedroom door.

The second he stood directly in front of her adrenaline took over and she slapped him. Her hand shook slightly from the aftereffects.

“I said. get. the fuck. out.” she bit out through rushed breaths.

She was absolutely terrified of looking up at Gojo–but she did it anyway. His head was still turned aside, facing the direction she’d slapped him. His smooth cheek blossomed with red from her slap.

His crystalline eyes were frozen at first-as if in shock-before something shifted. Her breath caught at the sight.

The next thing she knew she was being tossed onto the bed.

His hand was at her neck, holding her down in a chokehold as he stood between her spread legs. His other hand flat against the blanket beside her head.

“I’ve been good. so. fucking. good.” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke roughly into her temple.

His fingers momentarily tightened around her throat.

“I left you alone,” He dug his nose into her cheekbone, pressing her face aside into the bed. “You think that was easy for me, hmm?”

His fingers loosened on her throat, his thumb gently rubbing over her racing pulsepoint.

“All I wanted was somethin’ in return, but you know what I got—” he hissed. “I got you showing up to a party, looking like the sluttiest bitch I’ve ever seen.”

His fingers tightened around her neck once more as he growled against her cheek, “I wanted to slut you out right then and there.”

She shivered, her hands went to his wrist at her throat—weakly pushing at him. Her nerves alight with terror.

“Get off–“ she whispered, shifting under him.

“You know what your ‘friend’ told me when she hugged me. She said ‘look what I brought you’.”

Her eyes widened. Millie? Millie said that?

His hand left her throat, suddenly cupping her face—forcing her to look directly at him.

He spoke raggedly, “She knows you’re mine—everyone knows you’re mine. Except you-you want to tease me—“

His lips crashed onto hers, enveloping her lips in a kiss so hard that her jaw ached. Her skin simmered wherever they touched.

The pressure of his lips dug her further into the bed. She gasped when he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth. He immediately took advantage of her open lips—shoving his tongue through the narrow expanse of her mouth.

He groaned.

She grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back.

He budged just enough for the kiss to break–his blue eyes illuminating in the dark. He slowly straightened, licking his lips.

She quickly propped herself up on her elbows. Her chest heaving in and out as she attempted to catch her breath. She placed a hand over her lips, her hand shook.

He stood in between her legs, which hung over the bed’s edge. His face was flushed, and not because of her slap.

“What the hell–” she rasped, before cutting herself off when he grabbed his shirt from the back and easily slipped it off.

Her throat went dry.

Well, him being the best basketball player definitely showed. It genuinely.. wasn’t fair.

His skin was incredibly smooth–nearly glowing in the darkness of her barely lit room. His shoulders bulged; his arms tautly corded with muscle. His already protruding abs tightened before her eyes. He was entirely too compact with muscle—it was clear he’d done some work in the gym.

He looked so strong-so lean-she was almost… terrified.

In fact, she was scared out of her mind.

He ran hand through his tousled white hair before bending over her once-again. He pressed his hands to the bed, around either side of her.

His jaw was locked as he looked down at her. His eyes slowly looking her up and down–his gaze absolutely predatory.

His forehead nearly touched hers as he lowered himself but she immediately fell back into the bed–avoiding his touch.

She scrambled under him–moving without any thought as she attempted to slip away only to yelp outloud when he grabbed her by the waist and shoved her back down against the bed.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

His countenance was unreadable–except for the dark look of heat that swam within the endless blue waters that were his eyes. The longer she looked at him she knew what was going to happen—she knew she was going to drown.

“You’re mine now.”

No. no. no.

Suddenly his hand was at her tube top, shoving it down. Her tits spilled over, revealing their luscious size. Her nipples were already hard from the slight breeze that escaped from her window.

His eyes reveled in the sight before he grabbed one and squeezed. She gasped at his grip.

“Mmm,” he palmed her hard nipple, “You been hiding these from me.”

She grabbed at his wrist, failing miserably to tear his firm hand off her chest.

She writhed under him, “Gojo, no—“

Suddenly he grabbed her wrists, easily pinning her hands above her head with one of his own. Her tits only seeming to protrude more at this angle.

His eyes widened, “Fuck.” he muttered, “You never took off our uniform’s jacket for a reason, huh?”

She didn’t get the chance to respond because he was touching her in an instant.

He took his time with each of her tits. He ran his palm against the smooth, untouched area of her underboob. He squeezed a handful, letting her tits fill the entirety of his large hand until it spilled through the gaps of his fingers.

He pinched her nipple and her body bucked.

“So fucking hot.” he gritted out.

“Gojo, please, stop, please—“ she whispered, begging.

She’d never felt this vulnerable in her life–she had to make him stop.

She twisted underneath him, purposely pushing her wrists against his hold only to gasp when his mouth latched onto her nipple. He lapped her perky nipple up, sucking diligently while roughly groping the other.

He broke away from her to look up at her through her tits, his lips glossy with saliva.

“How can I.” he answered, raggedly-before latching his mouth onto her unattended tit.

A choked moan left her lips-not from pleasure. Or so she thought-she couldn’t deny the feeling her nipples being attended to elicited. It was a feeling she’d never experienced before.

There was a heat she was starting to feel within her body—the kind of heat that was starting to burn within her, making her crave something she didn’t even know she wanted.

The feeling only added to her fear. The pulsing fear running underneath her skin threatened to overwhelm her.

“Please, please,” she whined, “My father is downstairs—please—“

His tongue swiped at her erect nipple once more. The tip of his tongue licking a tantalizing circle around her nipple before withdrawing his lips. A subtle smirk grew on his lips before he spit between the center of her tits. The feeling of the fluid against her skin making her squirm.

His fingers smeared his saliva along both of her tits. Her tits were soft and pillowy in his hands, using it as an excuse to squeeze them once more–he had to get them fully wet somehow, didn’t he?

He leaned back, standing upright between her legs. He didn’t let go of her wrists.

His blue eyes ran down her body. He wanted to groan. Her tits looked so good like that–glistening from his spit.

“Daddy’s downstairs, hm?” he mused. “Maybe he should know who his daughter belongs to now, hmm? He’s going to meet me one day anyway.”

“No..” she whispered.

He bent over her once-again, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. She sharply turned her head away–her body twisting underneath him.

“Get off—” she was cut-off when his hand suddenly pressed into her lower stomach, pushing her down further into bed. Her twisting and turning forced to an abrupt halt at the movement.

A low-cry left her lips.

“Why don’t you scream my name as loud as you can, yeah? I want you to.”

His hand was at her skirt, ripping it off with one swift yank of his arm.

He greedily drank in the sight of her in a baby pink lacey thong. Millie had given it to her tonight, as a ‘first night out’ gift.

If she’d known he would see it, she would’ve never worn it.

He slid his hand up her thigh, forcing her leg to spread before him. His teeth skimmed over his bottom lip at the sight. The entirety of her glistening cunt was visible to him since her thong had partly shifted aside.

He groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck, princess.”

He quickly released her wrists to hold up both of her legs, sliding his hands under her knees—spreading her completely wide open for him.

Before she could think of utilizing her free hands, she tensed. His pant covered groin was suddenly pressed against her warmth. His hard-on evident against her sensitive, untouched skin.

Her body buckled at the sensation.

A low chuckle left his lips before he began to grind his clothed cock against her wet cunt. She gasped, the feeling of something moving against her warmth foreign to her. But her body betrayed her mind—her juices spilled out her core, coating her thong and wetting his pants.

“Such a pretty pussy.” he rasped as he began to pick up speed, his hips jutting against her sensitive cunt. He was so hard.

She couldn’t move, her legs were spread wide. Held open by him against her will. Her knees were nearly at her shoulders as he grinded his cock against her. The bed squeaking noisily.

There was a feeling she couldn’t describe starting to brew within her. That heat–it spread along her skin and burned her insides. It seemed to originate from where he was rubbing against her. She couldn’t take it.

“Gojo-stop, Gojo-” she cried out, begging him to stop but he cut her off.

“Yes,” he growled out, “Just like that—want you to scream it next.”

His cock grinded harshly against her now, making her yelp out and her toes curl. Her thong was soaking, a wet spot had formed on his pants.

“So fucking wet,” he stared down at her cunt, continuing to roughly grind his cock against her. The friction felt so good against his cock.

“All mine.”

She writhed. A strangled cry leaving her lips as she attempted to separate her cunt from him by pressing her hips into the bed. The feeling was just too much–

He merely ground his cock further against her–pressing his hips against hers to further push her down into the bed. He used the added pressure to jut the length of his cock faster against her cunt.

She cried out, “P-Please—! Stop, Gojo—nnghh!”

He groaned–forcing himself to stop so he didn’t cum. He didn’t want to cum just yet.

She shivered, a subtle sigh of relief leaving her lips as she felt that hypocritical heat buzzing within her skin die down. She had no words for what that feeling was. A zip of fear coursed through her when she nervously glanced up at Gojo between her spread legs.

He was out of breath, his abs tightening with each inhale. Strands of his white hair curled over his forehead, slick with sweat. The slight mark of her earlier slap still on his cheek.

His gaze was possessive as he muttered, “m’gonna make you mine.”

He let go of one of her legs to unbuckle himself. He was too impatient to step out of his pants, merely unzipping himself and shoving his boxers down to let his thick, veiny cock jump out.

It was so long it made a slight sound when it hit his navel at first. His cock was big—big enough for her to be aware that it was big despite not having seen other cocks before. It was swollen at the tip, pink and leaking a liquid-y white substance.

The liquid leaked down his cock’s veiny sides. The veins protruding against his cock’s pale, pink skin. His cock was so erect, it was almost taunting her.

Her heart jumped to her throat–she was absolutely terrified.

She attempted to close her legs, drawing her knees together, “N-no…”

He easily drew the one leg he held apart and used his other hand to hook his index finger around her thong. He moved it further aside before placing his cockhead right at her entrance.

The tip of his cock pulsed as he felt her juices leak against him–despite not having entered her yet. His hissed–mind blanking with pleasure but before he could act on it, her legs flung out.

She turned to her side, moving to escape—until his hand found her throat, easily pinning her back down to the bed as he shoved his cock right into her core.

A pain-filled cry left her lips, her body buckling wildly underneath him. He’d only managed to seat his tip within her, but it hurt—it hurt so bad.

He bent over her and groaned.

A shiver raked her body at the sound. She went still, eyes squeezing shut, “No-no-nono-”

He peered down at her, his blue eyes dark with lust as he saw her strained expression. He slowly withdrew his cockhead and pushed it back in.

Her body jolted, eyes snapping open, “No—Gojo, stop-please, please—it hurts—“

She grabbed onto his hand at her throat. Her nails scratched at arm–trying-shoving-pushing at him, but they both knew it was futile. She sobbed.

Her cunt was incredibly wet, wet enough for her to feel aware of how warm the juices were making her insides. Despite all of this, she was still a virgin. She’d never had someone inside her before. Her cunt didn’t have any room for someone as big as him—or anyone ever.

He lowered himself over her, careful not to press his cock further into her as he swiped his tongue along her cheek, licking up her salty tear.

“You cryin’ princess?”

The tip of his cock pulsed inside of her.

His fingers around her neck tightened, “Do y’know how fuckin’ good you feel? How tight?”

He nipped at her jaw, before sucking at her neck—leaving dark dark hickeys behind. Darker than the marks he’d left on her tits.

“You think you deserve to run free after the way you were rubbin’ up on those random bitch boys, hm? You let them feel you up-let ‘em talk to you—”

His hips bucked into her, forcing another inch in. She nearly screamed.

“Only I get to do that.”

Her body was arched in pain, the skin above her tits felt warm and blotchy as she outstretched her neck. Her collarbones rising and falling against her skin as she breathed unevenly.

“No-no-no-“ she whimpered, her cunt hurt bad. Having more of him within her felt wrong—despite what the signals in her body were telling her.

Her cunt squeezed around him-heartily willing to accept him despite the pain. His girth was huge, taking up too much space. There was no way-this couldn’t be happening—

He groaned into her neck, his hand slipping down to play with her tits once more.

He squeezed her tit greedily before rubbing her areola till her nipple hardened against his palm.

“You were such a bad girl today-y’know-you should be grateful..”

He chuckled, huskily, against her skin, “Should be grateful I’m not tearing this pussy open right now.”

She made a low, weak moaning sound. She could only imagine the pain—there was no way. No way she could take all of him. She would break.

Her cunt squeezed around him, hard—the complete opposite of her mind’s reaction.

“Hah,” he breathed out, against her neck.

His hands beside her head fisted the sheets, gripping it hard as his thighs flexed. He fought the animalistic urge to pound his hips into her at the godless pace he wanted to fuck her at.

He had to resist–her pussy was so tight that his cock nearly felt wedged in place, despite the slick of her wetness coating the rest of his balls.

He raised his head over hers, his cerulean blue eyes raking over her face. Her lips were slightly parted-breathless-as the crease in her brow deepened. Her body shook slightly as she tried to twist her face away–revealing that she was in pain.

His lips brushed along her jawline as a rush of lust overcame him at her expression. His balls swelled.

“Your pussy’s beggin’ for me, princess.”

He withdrew his hips slightly, letting his cock slide out before shoving it back in at the depth he was at before. Her body lurched. Her hands instinctively grasped his shoulders to hold onto something as she arched in pain.

Despite the cry she’d let out–she’d still heard the lewd, wet sound that filled the air.

“Hear that,” his lips were at the cusp of her ear, “That’s how wet you are.”

His hand cupped her tit again before squeezing it-harshly. She wanted to yelp but squeezed her eyes shut instead, biting down on her lower lip to quiet herself. If her Dad awoke to seeing her like this…

“You wanted this, didn't you?” Gojo’s ragged voice cut through her thoughts, “Isn’t that what you told Millie?”

His cock snapped in and out again. At the same depth as before. Barely a fourth in.

She gasped through her teeth. Her body trembled as she tried not to be too loud. He hadn’t gone deeper but god-the action was so unfamiliar, her insides felt like a mess.

“You told her you wanted to lose your virginity tonight.”

Her eyes snapped open in horror.

She had told her she was open to that but that was in confidence—and it wasn’t like that was her sole goal for the night.

Suddenly he leaned back, letting himself stand completely upright between her legs. His hands slipped up her thighs, spreading her legs further open—far and wide.

He stared down at her through half-lidded, hungry eyes.

“I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

Her eyes widened before she attempted to lift her hips away from him, but his hands suddenly wound themselves around her calves. His hands slipped under the bend of her knees before shoving her legs apart, forcing her hips back down into the bed.

She felt his tip poke her entrance.

She gasped—fear consuming her as she twisted helplessly. His hold was too strong for her to move. She attempted to pry his fingers off of her legs.

“Gojo-please, please-no, no-I can’t—“

Her little mewls shouldn’t have made his cock stiffer. He leaned over her, spreading her legs further open as his hands pushed her knees up. She felt the tip of his cock poke at her wetness.

His lips brushed against hers as she jolted. She was so sensitive, he loved it.

“Don’t be like that, kitten,” his voice a low murmur against her lips, “I told you I wanted you.. you should’ve came to me first.”

His hips shot forward, burrowing the full length of his cock inside of her all at once.

He caught her scream with his lips, kissing her deep and slow as she trembled underneath him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. The pain was so blinding she couldn’t think. She felt so full–she felt like a new space had just been forced apart within her.

She writhed underneath him, unable to think until she pried her lips away from his. Her teeth clenched as she turned her head aside, trying so hard not to scream as his cock throbbed inside of her—forcing her pussy to accommodate.

She let out a choked breath, her cunt inadvertently squeezing around him.

“Fuck,” He groaned, the sound muffled as he pressed his face into her hair. “Takin’ me so well, princess.”

He slightly pressed his hips further into her, reveling in the feeling of how the walls of her cunt didn’t let him go, “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

She winced, moaning in pain as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers clasping and unclasping his shoulders.

His blue eyes scanned her face, a look of adoration and pure lust mixing within his gaze as he ran his hand down her temple to move her hair out of her face.

“Your virginity was always mine.” he stated, huskily–with all the confidence in the world.

Her cunt squeezed around him and his hips jutted into her. Just as she cried out he pressed a desperate kiss to her lips. The feeling of his cock completely stuffing her and his lips on hers simultaneously jumbled her body and nerves like no other. She whimpered.

He broke the kiss before leaning back. His gaze darkened as he took in the view before him.

His hands on her thighs spread her legs some more, causing a soft whimper to leave her lips. Her full, perky tits were shiny with sweat. And her legs—they looked so fucking sexy, completely outspread for him like that. He could feel every tremble of her thighs go straight to his cock.

And her cunt—her cunt looked so good, completely stuffed to brim by him. Her warm pussy juices leaked over the edge of his cock. He didn’t miss the line of blood slipping down her cunt to ass.

She looked so ready to be used.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He fucked her hard. He didn’t care how loud the bed was. His dick slammed in and out of her relentlessly—lewd sounds of her wetness filling the room as she cried out with each rough fuck. If she thought the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared to now.

He was just so damn big. She swore she could feel each ridge and vein of his dick against her pussy walls—his cock forced her pussy to fit.

His countenance was focused despite being lost in complete bliss. Her pussy was his. Only his.

He didn’t slow down—continuously ramming his dick into her. The tip of cock hitting her walls each time, making her body jump up and quiver. Her tits bounced satisfyingly with each body breaking fuck.

“Ohh—god, fuck—stop, p-please—“ she was absolutely dumbstruck.

“You can take it.” He spread her legs wider, making her back arch in pain.

He leaned forward, picking up his pace somehow, “I’ll be the first and last dick you have—you hear me? This cunt’s mine.”

She breathed haggardly, her brain lost in a fog of pain as that heat she felt earlier slowly crept back up. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Nngh—!” was all that left her mouth when he continued to fuck her out. He kept spreading her legs open further–his grip on her legs firm as he let his cock hit her at an even deeper angle.

“Hurts!” she cried out, wincing, “Gojo—please—“

He didn’t stop. His cock slamming in and out of her roughly. Her cunt felt so damn good—so tight.

He licked a bead of sweat that shone along her cheekbone, “I know, princess.”

She was a mess. Her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she let him do whatever he pleased. It hurt so bad she couldn’t think–but there was a small part of her that was reveling in the feeling he was arousing. She couldn’t explain it.

“Gojo, please, stop–” she whined, helplessly, tears slipping down the corner of her eyes once more.

His hand went to her navel, gently pressing into her lower stomach. He growled when he felt the slight bump of his tip hitting his hand. Fuck, her pussy felt too good.

He looked down at her. Her tits swung in hypnotizing circles. Her hair was completely unruly over the sheets and her face shone with tears.

His voice was rough as he muttered, “Such a pretty crier–S’not fair.”

Her cunt tightened at his words and he groaned through clenched teeth. She felt his dick throb inside her and couldn’t help but shiver at the unfamiliar feeling. She felt like wasn’t on this planet. This feeling burning within her skin, the lewd noises filling the room. The odd sensation of gradually building up subtly under the pain.

“You like that, hmm? You like when I compliment you while breaking you open?”

She shook her head, “N-no, please-nnghh, it hurts. Hurts.”

“You can take it, princess.”

He leaned forward, enrapturing her lips in forceful kiss as he pressed his hips into her. Letting the length of his cock fully submerge into her warm wetness. Her body arched underneath him, her tits pressing into his firm chest as he kept her down.

She felt his cock twitch and she gasped, breaking the kiss, “G-gojo—!”

He buried his face into her neck, groaning as he shoved his cock further into her. She winced.

Then suddenly she felt his cock pulsate within her. She felt something warm and thick fill her up—a lot of it. She swore she felt it drip down her ass.

He came… inside me. She went limp in shock.

He slumped over her, catching his breath. His weight nearly crushing her until his dick spasmed within her, shooting out the last loads of cum within her cunt.

He came a lot. He knew he had—it wasn’t usually like this but fuck, he had to see it.

He leaned off of her slowly. He slipped his hands around her legs once more, spreading her open to see his dick still lodged deep within her.

She was just so warm down there… Fuck, he almost didn’t want to pull out.

He noticed streaks of his cum had slipped out, joining the trail of blood and pussy juice that trailed down to her ass. His cock jerked in her pussy at the sight.

He slowly pulled himself out, his cock leaving her pussy with a satisfying ‘pop’ when he finally withdrew himself completely. A string of cum was still attached to her pussy from his tip when he pulled out.

A second later, more cum poured out of her cunt. And more. Streaks of blood were mixed in here and there but Fuck—how much did he cum?

His cum leaked out of her cunt and slipped down her ass onto the sheets. The sight was so erotic he didn’t notice that his cock was fully erect again. His balls throbbing once-more.

He ran a hand over his dick, giving it a few pumps before squeezing the tip to watch one last bead of cum pour out. He swiped at the cum with his fingers, collecting it.

He brought his fingers to her lips. Her eyes were closed but then opened half-way at his touch. Her whole body ached from the aftermath of their sex, she was completely worn out.

“Open your mouth.” he murmured.

She blinked, before opening her mouth compliantly.

He placed his finger in her mouth, “Suck.”

She did. Her little tongue swiped at the substance coating his fingers and squinted at the taste. She didn’t know what to make of it.

He smirked, that typical darkly handsome smirk of his– “Good girl.”

She lay in bed, curled up into a ball under the sheets. She still hadn’t gotten up to shower yet-despite desperately feeling the need to shower after getting railed by Gojo Satoru.

She still couldn’t believe that had just happened.

Her whole body ached, each physical movement causing some sort of strain on her body. Her throat felt dry and her legs still felt sticky despite having pissed already. She was still in a state of shock.

She hadn’t gotten the nerve-or will-to move because Gojo was still here.

He lay on the bed next to her. She couldn’t see him because her back was to him. She needed him to leave.

She felt the bed shift under his weight and suddenly his presence felt closer. His voice arose from somewhere near her shoulder,

“Are you sleeping?”

She jolted slightly, at his closeness—before scooting further away from him on the bed.

“Hm.. you mad at me then?”

Her brows furrowed. Why’d he say it like I shouldn’t be?

She needed him to leave but she refused to talk to him. She’d experienced abuse before this…but this was different. He’d taken her virginity.

She flinched when she felt him press a delicate kiss to her shoulder.

“C’monnn, princess,” he urged—whining slightly, “Talk to me.”

She didn’t want to. When the silence ensued she thought she heard a low sigh.

“You’re not allowed to give me the silent treatment anymore.” he muttered, discontentedly.

Her eyes snapped open at that—unsure what to make of his words. She wasn’t sure if that was a threat or just more of him whining. He was so unpredictable, she had no clue how to safely navigate this situation.

She didn’t trust his current easygoing-ness one bit. She didn’t know what he would do to her if she said something wrong—something he didn’t like. She wanted to be defiant but she was… terrified. She’d never been overpowered like that—completely bent to someone else’s will.

She still felt the imprint of his large hands around her legs, gripping her thighs firmly in place-to keep her spread open for him no matter how much she struggled. He barely budged when she’d twisted and turned-trying to escape. He dominated her easily every time. His strength scared her.

She closed her eyes, willing her heart rate to calm down. She needed to think through the fear but she wasn’t ever any good at acting.

She hesitantly poked her head out from the blanket, turning slightly to face him.

His blue eyes sparkled at the sight of her.

“Do you know what you just did to me?” her voice wavered, resisting the urge to snap at him, “Why would I want to talk to you.”

He was propped up on one elbow, shirtless, as he lay beside her. His white hair was completely ruffled, with strands poking out in different directions. A subtle pout appeared on his lips as he contemplated her question. His white brows furrowing.

She wished he’d put his shirt on.

He sighed, “Me and you were gonna happen regardless so..” he shrugged.

She blinked, staring at him in complete disbelief. There was so many things wrong with that that she didn’t even know where to start.

His fingertips skimmed her cheekbones, tucking her hair behind her ear. She resisted the urge to flinch.

She watched him in complete stunned silence.

He was gazing at her, almost adoringly. She could tell from his line of sight that he could see the hickeys decorating her neck. Now that he’d moved her hair out of her face, they were more visible.

His crystalline eyes flitted to hers, catching her staring. A brief look of surprise flashed over his eyes before a smug smile spread across his lips.

“I’m pretty, right?”

She blinked, speaking impulsively, “You’re insane.”

“Fix me then.”

Her eyes widened before flinching when his hand slipped over her stomach, lightly pressing her down so that she lay flat on her back instead of her side.

She froze. Her body alert with fear as he leaned towards her. He placed his head on her shoulder, letting himself lie comfortably over her.

He threw his long leg over her tiny frame. She was still partly naked under the blanket—but lucky for her, he wasn’t under the sheets.

“Don’t chicks love that shit?” he continued before sighing, “I wish you wanted to fix me.”

She glanced down at him, at his fluffy white head on her shoulder—his hair tickling her chin. He was so big compared to her that despite him being the one trying to ‘cuddle’ on her, his large stature still gave the appearance that he was spooning her.

She shifted slightly under his weight, wondering how he was comfortable. She supposed he didn’t have much to worry about—considering he was laying atop of her and seemed to live life doing whatever the hell he wanted.

Fix him? she wanted to laugh. The only thing that would fix him is jail.

She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to tremble slightly. How am I going to get out of this?

a/n: hi guys-first of all-woAh u made it. ik this was hella long, more of a short story than a one-shot but i hope y'all enjoyeddd. i realized like half-way thru editing that i never explained that some of the bolded, italicized text is spoken/narrated from our oc (ara) from the future. anyway, lmk what y'all think & if a part II is something that would interest u. eitherway, have a good day!! UPDATE: lol so here's the next chapter (pls read @ ur own risk bc it only gets worse from here... dun duN DUN)

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

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AITA for tattling?

This was a couple years ago. Our ages, at the time, were I believe as follows: Me, 16F

My sister, Jane, 13F

My other sister, Rose, 11F

My cousin, Scott, 15M

My other cousin, Georgia, 12F

I’m trying to write this in a way that, if one of them does stumble across it, they won’t know it’s talking about them. But all important details will be there.

We were staying over at Scott’s and generally having a great time. I could drive at that point, so we were having fun being away from parents and with me able to drive them (not too far, as we all have somewhat strict parents).

I was aware, somewhat, that Scott was addicted to smoking weed, this was something that had come up before, mostly in Jane and Scott’s conversations. My stance on this was “I don’t care what you do, it’s none of my business, just please do it safely” due to past experience with self-destructive people. I didn't know that Jane also was doing drugs (unsure which) though not while we were out of town.

The rest of the group went off with Scott to meet his dealer, I stayed home to spend time with my very young cousin (6 at the time, I think). I knew where they were going. The only ones who had contact with the actual dealer were Scott and Jane, I double checked about that, I didn’t want Georgia or Rose getting involved in that.

That night, they were all sleeping in one room and I in the next room over (I’ve always been sort of an outcast among extended family, just due to being kind of odd). I stayed with them and talked until about 11:00, and I saw both Scott and Jane smoking. I knew they were planning on letting Georgia smoke as well, but that they said Rose was too young.

I didn’t care what they did. I went to sleep hours before them.

The next day, something tipped off our parents (probably the fact that the whole downstairs smelled like weed… still don’t know how they failed to consider that, honestly) and everyone got pulled away for questioning. My mom asked me if I knew anything, I said I went to bed early and hadn’t seen a thing. I was never even suspected, I’m seen as too much of a goody two shoes.

I was in the bathroom, hiding, because I was suddenly feeling very, very guilty about not stopping them. I knew drugs could cause issues (although I also think that, at the time, it was a good thing Scott had that to help him, as he was extremely depressed) especially for Georgia and Rose.

I ended up texting my mom and telling her that I actually had seen them smoking. She texted back saying that she’d already pretty much known, but I’d just confirmed it.

I’ve never quite been able to convince myself I did the right thing. It tore the group apart. We can’t be alone together anymore. Everyone is paranoid about this happening again now. Scott ended up turning to harder drugs and getting sent to rehab after an overdose.

I don’t know what I should’ve done, or if I responded right.

Was I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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elegantmusicdragon · 11 months ago

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Adventures in Bravo-Sitting

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Babysitter!Reader (f!Reader probably? Can be gn!Reader for now)

Rating/Warning: Just some language! Words that rhyme with certain swears. Me being a menace. You know how it goes.

A/N: Okay so this is for @blueeyesatnight who just went a on a Dieter/Babysitter journey with me and inspired me to crank this fic out in two days. Haven't written a fucking thing except a fic I won't post and THIS. Blue, you're the best and Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas (if you celebrate) and thank you so much for the inspo! Our Dieter/Babysitter thread is my favorite thing and also if you wanna write some of these two or your own version PLEASE DO IT. I encourage it! Much love to you.

To anyone else who may read this: thanks for sticking around and checking this not beta'd dumpster fire. I have no clue what this is. It came out of my brain and onto the page in a frenzy. But it's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Enjoy! And Happy Holidays!

You are terribly confused.

"We know this is highly unconventional."

Well, that's putting it mildly.

"In all honesty, I've seen weirder." A nightmare child smearing his feces all over the baking appliances and a cake his mother had made takes the trophy as of now. Though this situation is a close second.

The woman, Amanda, smiles at you - relief flooding her features. She readjusts herself on the ridiculously fancy chair she's sitting on. Behind her, a small cluster of people in suits and business skirts gather. And between Amanda and the group? A man. Well, not man. Celebrity. A celebrity who seems to be grumbling something close to the words “ducking shooshes”.

You never thought you'd end up babysitting Dieter Bravo but, you guess, things could be weirder.

"Can I just...ask...um...why does a grown man need a babysitter?"

Dieter rolls his eyes and cuts in, "I don't."

Amanda talks over him, "I'm sure you've seen the...incidents...on the Cliff Beasts set."

You nod. "Absolutely, who hasn't? A drug overdose, quickie marriage, annulment - all within the span of a year. And the giant bender in Vegas with the showgirl last month? It's been all over the news."

Amanda nods, tension lining her face. Behind her, Dieter rolls his eyes again.

"It wasn't that bad."

Amanda finally graces Dieter with an irritated glance. Her voice raises slightly, “Not that bad, Dee?? You almost destroyed the MGM Grand’s lobby, casino, and the penthouse suite you were staying in! That showgirl almost lost an eye!”

Dieter rolls his neck back to face the ceiling, “Yeah, but she didn’t. She was fun,” he chuckles. “Liked to party. We still got her number?”

You see a vein throb in Amanda’s forehead. You’re not quite sure if you should butt into their conversation. Amanda grips the planner she holds so tightly, her knuckles begin to turn white.

“No, Dee. We don’t have her number. You know, since she ALMOST LOST AN EYE??”

Dieter sighs. “Oh my god, she was fine. It was safe. I was totally able to handle that machete. That lobby guy was just scared.”

You raise an eyebrow.

Amanda fires back, “He was the manager!!! And you were swinging a machete at one of his showgirls!”

“I wasn’t gonna hurt her, god it’s like you think I’m irresponsible or something.”

Oh god what have you gotten yourself into???

You reach down and attempt to subtly get your belongings. You’ve decided you want no part in…whatever this is. To your utter disappointment, you’re apparently not subtle enough. Amanda’s eyes dart to where your hand is resting on the strap of your bag. Her eyes widen just a fraction in desperation.

“I know we’re not giving the best impression here. But I promise, this is going to be a very rewarding experience. Dieter is special!”

She had said that on the phone too, but it was your fault you had misinterpreted it. Dieter clearly is special just…not in the way you were expecting. He’s special in a super-fuckin-entitled-wealthy way.

You swallow and your eyes dart to Dieter, who hasn’t looked at you once since this whole meet and greet started.

“Listen, Amanda, I’m really flattered that you and your…” You peter off, realizing the entire group of people behind her are now listening to you basically say no to this insane job. Are they really surprised you’re not interested in this?

You clear your throat and continue, “team…want me to do this. I just don’t quite think I’m what you’re looking for.”

Amanda looks behind her at a gentleman in a neatly pressed suit. He leans forward and whispers something in her ear. She nods, and turns back to you. Dieter remains absorbed in the ceiling.

“Alright,” Amanda starts, “how about I show you what your pay would look like and we’ll take it from there? Maybe we could do a trial run if the amount is to your liking?”

Dieter snorts. “It’ll be to her liking, I’m loaded.”

Amanda rolls her eyes. Despite that, she keeps her focus on you. “Well?” She asks.

You sigh. You know you’re caught between a rock and hard place. Money? Or no money? Well, even if this job isn’t what you necessarily thought it would be, it couldn’t hurt to look at the amount. Why the hell not?

You shrug. “Sure,” you reply back to Amanda. “I guess looking at the number can’t hurt.”

She smiles and nods, turning to confer with the gentleman behind her again. They whisper to each other for a few minutes before Amanda turns back to you.

“Okay! I just want to clarify that we’ll be starting with a trial run of a week. If just you, or both you and Dieter-”

He snorts at his name. Amanda studiously ignores him and continues on.

“Are interested in keeping this arrangement going, we’ll re-discuss and go from there. Is that amenable to you?”

You nod. “Sounds good to me.”

Amanda smiles widely, looking truly relieved for the first time since you stepped into the room.

“Great!” She replies. She reaches behind her to grab a small piece of paper from the suited gentleman (who is he???) and hands it over to you. You surreptitiously glance over at Dieter. For the first time, you find his eyes on you. You shiver slightly. His eyes sparkle with…something.

You look back down at the folded piece of paper in your hands. You’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. You open it slightly and see the number written down.

WOW that’s a LOT of zeroes! Holy crap.

You look at Amanda.

“Trial run it is.”

P.S. Banners by @firefly-graphics

Tags:

@grampsgirl14

@apsiringghostmusicians

Anyone else want a tag? Lemme know!

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fic #fanfiction #fic #blueeyesatnight

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centrally-unplanned · 1 year ago

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I played Needy Streamer Overload, which was a lot of fun, with an asterisk. NSO is a Lifesim Management game for a batshit up-and-coming streamer, where you as her 'boyfriend' allocate her time between streaming, resting, and content inspiration/development to hit 1 million followers. The writing is very on point for actual streams culture;the topics and comments and all that are very true-to-life, while its zany edgecore presentation is hilarious. And the UI is full kino:

Vibes - and also, spoilers, not just a cutesy aesthetic, as the player is not in fact a real person so the digital viewport is ludonarratively cohesive, +1 point.

However, it also pissed me off for specific me reasons!

So, these games tend to go into two buckets. One is the engine builder - managing the lifesim is both involved and The Point of the game. You work hard to optimize and achieve the goal. The second is narrative device - the lifesim elements are more about narrative choice than challenge, and either can't be failed or are trivially cleared. You approach playing those 2 game types differently.

NSO presents itself like the former - its mechanics are pretty involved. Managing Followers, Stress, Affection, & Mental Darkness, all on a clock, while unlocking ~10 different streaming content topic progression trees, its a lot to track. Not saying its crazy hard or anything, but its what you spend your time doing. You will be asking yourself questions like "yes I could have sex with her for the third time this week to lower stress and boost affection so I can burn that affect buildup on the Sexy Stream lvl 2 to sync my highest topic bonus with my streaming streak bonus before I need to end it for a rest cycle, but I can only play that card so many times, is day 13 too early?". That is fun, and where your focus lies. On my first playthrough I tried to hit the 1 million target, barely succeeded, but burned out Ame's stats so much I got a short, pretty-much-failed ending.

So on my second playthrough I tinkered around and stumbled on a soft infinity engine, where I could push Ame's stress to the limit in the opening days to get her follower count to the point where she would unlock "follower milestone celebration" streams that I could bank, that did not increase stress but would count towards a streaming-every-day streak bonus, and never take a rest day to get that bonus insanely high. I got several million followers with low stress, low darkness, I thought I did a good job.

And I got a short, pretty-much-failed ending.

Turns out this game has 30 endings, and the lions share of the long, involved ones are from you completely fucking up. You will get a way more interesting ending if you make Ame-chan overdose on LSD and she trips her way into breaking though the illusion of the internet. You want to raise her darkness high as hell for half of them. You can found a cult, you can induce all sorts of violence against her or others, whatever you want. But the game didn't tell me!!

It instead presented me with a solid optimization puzzle, which I spent like 10 hours doing. I shouldn't have bothered! It doesn't really tell this partially for surprise, but if we are being honest its because they expect you to google it, and they expect you to watch streamers unlock 25 of them after you do 5. Which is how modern games are made, but personally I don't love relying on that. I do think games are at their best when they self-teach a player the right way to engage with it.

But I respect that some people would see the discarded scraps of a tryhard faildaughter that is Ame-chan and immediately push her into doing conspiracy theory streams while smoking weed. I am just not someone you can plunk an engine in front of and expect me not to try to tinker with it. This is 50% on me.

#needy streamer overload

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anniiecrsta · 7 days ago

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analysis on ‘impossible woman’ and ‘please’ from the book lyrics ? <3

author’s note: hii!! tysm for the ask. i didn't do please mostly because i didnt have anything to listen to except the lyrics and also this one took me DAYS on its own. i might tackle it sometime later. i LOVEE analyzing the lyrics in djats like its actually a problem and heh… ik who u are and ily teehe :D

‘impossible woman’

(link to an ai recreation. credits to the creator.)

the song ‘impossible woman’ is probably one of, if not the single best song from the book: while reading the song list in the book, a lot of time i just end up staring at the titles and thinking ‘oh this is so OFF?’ like, for some reason it just doesn’t feel like a real album. all the songs put next to one another just give me the idea that its not REAL and the lyrics sometimes too but impossible woman always did it for me.

there’s nothing fundamentally WRONG with more fun to miss, like, its not a bad song: the message is clear, you can tell what’s it’s trying to be and the instrumental is really catchy but i just find that when i think of the scenes and everything that led up to billy writing that song, impossible woman just… makes more sense? it’s my opinion of course. ANYWAYS time for the analysis of the lyrics!!! click here for the lyrics

im gonna be cross comparing the two songs a LOT so i thought i’d start with pointing out lyrics that i liked from more fun to miss as just like… a starting point: ‘you’re more fun to miss, than to be with’ and ‘you’re just a wild guess in a see through dress’. like its COOL and riley keough sounds awesome but in the context of what happened the night before i dont think it makes much sense. click here to listen to more fun to miss

but the lyrics of the original just really get the point across of how billy thinks of daisy as this untouchable woman that’s effectively ripping his life to shreds by his own accord like… he’s just staring because she’s impossible and he sees her as BIGGER THAN LIFE (which i will come back to later) and like a disaster that’s just destroying everything and can’t stop, “sand through fingers” because she’s slipping through his fingers. it’s just a demeaning song overall like… it’s a jab at daisy and a mean one at that.

“dancing barefoot in the snow” in my eyes is just a straight mention to the scene where she walks on glass (and for the longest time i was convinced that he outright talked abt glass) “cold can’t touch her, high or low” is again a reference to the drugs she takes, like, the fact that she’s so high she doesn’t even react to the weather— he talks abt it a few times in the book so i assume its that.

“untouchable, she’ll never fall” is pretty self explanatory again but it leads back to what i was saying at the start: billy’s always seen daisy as something larger than life, like something that he either got rid of or would stay around forever. she’ll never fall. i KNOW that the overdose isn’t a scene that’s present in the book, so the context wouldn’t be there, but just think about how interesting it would’ve been?? there’s already the guilt from everything, how he’s treated her and stuff, but also the realization that is in fact human. broken but not in an intangible way."

“oh she's gunning for you redemption” just comes across as how billy sees and interprets a lot of her actions to be against him, like purposefully, and how he's very clearly irritated and almost jealous of the fact that she can get high and wasted and do everything that he can't do right in front of his eyes, even if he knows it's wrong and he knows the road it leads you down: i also see it as billy projecting a lot of his own faults and like i said earlier, problems on daisy due to how similar he thinks they are, and “she’ll having you coming for the wrong obsession” also rapresents how he thinks of her as just another vice that he needs to stay away from to keep his fragile control of his life (at least that's how he treats her at the start, avoiding her and treating her like shit and doing everything he can just to get jer away, which i know he also does just because he doesn't like the fact that somebody else is coming in and changing shit he made, you know, challenging his control). she is a mirror of himself if he didn't have anybody to try and keep fighting for, if he was alone, and he finds the idea of indulging in daisy just as dangerous as drinking a bottle of beer.

the last sentence before the song loops back around after the chorus, and yes im ignoring the finale because this is the main part of the song, is "have you headed back to confession?" which to me just feels like a taunt: but im not sure wheter its a taunt to daisy herself, or a taunt billy makes to himself. the lines get a bit blurrier between them. since this whole song is just a dig at, like i said earlier, daisy, and also based off of the fact that we know that she is a religious person 'till she has her overdose (in the show, but i assume its the same in the book), im more leanient towards billy taking this dig at daisy based exactly off of the fact she belives in god. we know billy went to church with his mom and he lives with a very deep sense of guilt, so it could really be either. i'd love to know what ygs think abt this last one....

TYSM FOR STICKING AROUND !!!! PLS LMK IF U AGREE OR NOT OT JUST OPINIONS !!!!

#i had so. much. fun #this was literally one of the most fun thinsg ive ever written #IM SO SOSRYR FOR NOT PUTTING PLEASE BUT THIS ALR TOOK AGES PLS FORGIVE ME #guys i like billy #it also just made more sense for her to get mad at a song like this like jesus i would get pissed too #i KNOW i mention the show canon a bunch but i just want to imagine its in the show FIGHT ME #annie rambles !!#djats rambles !!!!

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p0orbaby · 2 years ago

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Moirai

Summary - There’s a reason you stayed away from places like this. There’s a reason you kept Grace out of your life. She’s the devil in disguise and this time you might not be able to crawl out of hell again

Warnings - 18+, Mentions of alcohol, Nightclub setting, Drug use, Needles, Drug overdose, Language, Hospital setting, Labour, Birth, just lots of crazy shit really

Authors note - Well this is a ride. The long awaited 11th chapter. Sorry this took ages, but between being shadowbanned and a v busy personal life I haven’t had much motivation to write, but hopefully this has revived my love of writing :)

Word count - 3k

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The walls of the bathroom stall have muted the music from the bar enough that you can hear the blood rushing through your ears. Even with the layers of wood, glass and tile between you and the music, the bass still vibrated through your body as you lean your back against the cubicle door.

The small space would’ve been cramped enough with just one person, but with two, it was stifling and uncomfortable. Especially when one person was bent crudely over the toilet, carefully transferring the narcotic from the clear baggy to the grimy cistern attached to the wall.

Grace had organised three lines of powder, bright white compared to the dirty metal of the toilet. Clean breaks in the filth. They glared up at you, gleaming and shining under the fluorescent lights of the restroom. It almost stung, the way fresh snow does after a storm. Reflecting the sun and causing you to squint against the brilliance.

A head of blonde hair blocked your view from an airy snort. Then moments later, Grace stood back up wiping the residue from her nose with the back of her perfectly manicured hand. “Fuck, that’s some good shit right there”

“Right”

“Oh come on. Stop acting like you’re some angel. I know you want to do some, so go on. I got enough for the both of us”

“Grace I don’t think-“

“Don't think, just do. Please, for me?”

“I can’t”

“Sure you can! Here, take this”. She hands you a rolled up one dollar bill. The end of it already peppered white. You didn’t realise your hands were shaking until a loud bag on the stall door made you jump then go rigid with fear at the thought of being caught.

“Hurry up in there! You’re creating a line”

“Go away asshole! Use the other stalls, we’re busy!”

“Grace it’s fine, we can leave”

“No, please don’t let them ruin this! It’s our girls night, we should have fun. Just do the line and then we can leave okay? There’s this new club I read about online and I really want to go”

It was the third time this evening Wanda had tried to call you. Each attempt to get further than your voicemail was thwarted by an unrelenting beep, then your voice asking whoever it was to leave a message.

She normally wouldnt interrupt you when you were out with friends, but it was getting late and she had just had another dull pain spread through her stomach.

It was taking a lot for her to not worry. Her doctor had warned her quite early on that as she progressed through this pregnancy it was normal to feel twinges and niggles. But this felt different. It didn’t feel like the boys moving, or even braxton hicks.

It felt wrong.

Strobe lights flashed across your eyes. Blue, green, red. Technicolour ribbons that distorted your vision as you pushed your way through sweaty bodies and overconfident dancers.

Your head hurt, your mouth was dry and you’d lost your phone. A trifecta that would be bad enough if you hadn’t also lost the person who forced you here too.

Grace had practically dragged you from the bar to the club with a speed that was almost impossible. Nearly pulling your arm from its socket as you stumbled down the street to whatever cesspit she wanted to go to next.

Was the room spinning? You couldn’t tell. You needed water but the line for both the bar and restroom was too long. Maybe you could call-, fuck, your damn lost phone.

You couldn’t just leave your friend behind. Could you? She was a mess and pulled you into every troubled situation she finds herself in, but she’s your friend. Right? You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her on what was essentially your shift of babysitting her.

Jesus it was hot in here.

You needed fresh air. Just a couple of minutes outside will set you to rights, then you can come back and find Grace.

Why did she have to bring you here? The place was packed to the brim with drunk party goers spilling drinks with every sway of their inebriated bodies. She knew this would be hard for you. You had a right mind to just go home and leave her to do whatever fucked up shit she had planned alone.

But you couldn’t. She knew that you would never leave her and had played you like a fucking fiddle all over again.

So you agreed with yourself; fresh air, find Grace and tell her no for the last time. That was it. You were done with her shit. A finality that was long overdue.

You adjusted your eyes. Trying to unblur your vision as you span around looking for an exit sign. The neon lights causing the letters to almost vibrate. Blinking and buzzing as you tried to focus beyond the people pushing into you.

Time seemed to slow when what was practically the light at the end of the tunnel shone through a back door. Some drunk soul stumbling out of a staff exit and not so gracefully throwing up on the damp asphalt. The streetlights from outside glowed orange against the cold nighttime air, bouncing off of the wet pavement in a way of beckoning.

You all but laughed out loud as your feet involuntarily carried you to freedom. The breeze hitting the sweat on your skin cooling you instantly even from where you were stood.

Yet like a lot of things in your life, even the mere thought of a breath of frigid winter air was selfishly taken from you by the one person you were trying to avoid.

“There you are,” Grace slurred. “I’ve been looking all over for you, I want you to meet some people”

Pulling your arm out of her grasp, you stepped back as if she was a stranger. “I’m going outside for a breather, then I’m leaving”

“Why? We’ve barely spent any time together!”

“Because I’m sick to death of you getting me involved in your crazy life. You need to grow up”

The look on her face was nothing you’d ever seen her wear before. Her smile instantly faded and was replaced with a pained look of something close to betrayal.Maybe you’d gone too far.

“Look, I’m sorry alright? I just… I don’t know I just don’t want to miss out on more of the stuff we could’ve done when we were kids”

“What, like all the time we didn’t go out and get high and drunk and almost got ourselves killed? Yeah we missed out on so fucking much”

“You know what I mean. Please just stay for one more drink. I made some friends and they invited us to a private room. It’ll be quiet. Something small to wind down the night. Then I’ll let you leave, I promise”

“Grace, I don’t know”

“I know you don’t trust me. But if this is what I think you’re doing, I request one final goodbye. I’ll be good. I promise”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond before she was pulling you yet again into something you had no idea you could be getting involved with.

“She’s not answering”

“No offense Nat, but I know. Your phone is connected to your car's speaker remember”

“Jesus, alright. Labour has made you insufferable”

“Hhm, fuck”

Wanda gripped the door handle of the passenger's side like it would be the last thing she would ever do. Her knuckles turned white while the plastic and leather in her palms almost cracked under her force.

“That one was four minutes. They’re coming quicker”

“You don’t fucking say”

Natasha must have been driving over the limit. With the way their bodies leant every time she turned a corner Wanda wouldn’t be surprised at all.

“Shall I try her again?”

“No, shit, she won’t answer. She hasn’t answered all evening”

The room Grace led you to was nothing less than disgusting. Flickering bulbs creating an eery atmosphere. It was stuffy, and it smelt sour. The wallpaper was peeling off in large chunks. The people who occupied it looked like they hadn’t showered in weeks.

How new could this club have been if it has rooms falling apart like this.

All of the above factors briefly stopped you noticing what was actually going on in there. Until someone hissed in pain and your eyes narrowed in on the scenes taking place.

Needles and spoons and bodies slumped in chairs.

You were only three steps inside before you decided to turn around and remove yourself from the situation. But the door was briskly shut and locked by a burly man in all black, stopping you from leaving whatever room this was. What it was so obviously used for.

“You must be Y/N, Gracie here says it’s your last night together. She wants it to go out with a bang”

You didn’t know where the voice came from, but it was weak and tired. The activities in this box room had clearly sucked the life out of anyone who stayed here long enough to be affected.

“Remember the first time we did this? We had so much fun. We should do it one last time, for old times sake”

Grace's words were muffled in your ears. Your heartbeat pounding so loudly nothing was making any coherent sense.

“Grace, I can’t be here” the words struggled out of your mouth. Dry and hoarse and barely audible over the clinking and groaning from the people around you.

“Just one last time”

“I need to leave. I- I want to go home”

“You can after this. Look, Jason already has one ready for you”

You looked over to find a greasy haired kid, no older than eighteen holding up a tourniquet and a needle that definitely wasn’t clean. The beating of your heart quickened at the realisation of what was about to happen.

The walls started to move, making the room noticeably smaller as you were pushed towards a cotner where an empty chair was seemingly waiting for you.

The corners of your sight blurred, blocking out reality.

“I’m going to kill her” Wanda gritted out as she rode the wave of another contraction.

“I’m sure she has a reasonable-“

“I don’t give a fuck, she needs to be here”

Wanda’s voice was riddled with venom. Natasha had never seen her like this. So worked up. So distraught. Even the midwife’s and nurses coming to stop by left the room with large strides and a heavy exhale.

“I’ll go and try her again. I’ll be right outside so just call if you need anything, okay?”

Natasha wasn’t one to side with you often. With Wanda being her best friend it was easy for her to paint you as a villain. Especially with some of your past actions. But this felt different to her. Whatever it was. Instinct. Intuition. Even her damn moral compass. Something just didn’t feel right.

She was about to dial your number again when she was barged slightly by someone in a doctor's coat. Then someone else in scrubs narrowly missed her seconds later as they ran in the same direction.

Out of curiosity she followed them. What harm would that cause? Wanda was safe with the midwives on call and you were hopefully on the other end of the phone. Or even on your way to the hospital after you read the note she had left by the key bowl next to your front door.

It was a short walk from the labour ward to the front of the hospital. The place where the tide seemed to take her. It was frantic and nothing like she’d seen before. Unless the medical dramas on tv counted. Even an ambulance pulled up outside of the door as if on cue. The blue lights bouncing off of any reflective surface, making her squint.

Natasha was surprised that no one ushered her out of the way when they pulled in a gurney with haste. Or maybe they did tell her to move. Everything slowed when she recognised the still body lying rigid and gray.

“Wanda, we really need to start pushing. We don’t want to put either of your babies under anymore stress”

“But Nat, I need Nat. If I can’t have my wife here I sure as hell am having my best friend”

Is this what hell was like? She’d heard stories of partners not making it to the birth of their children, but she’d never thought it’d be something that would happen to her.

After everything, you’d come a long way. Being there for Wanda. Being there for you children. She didn’t know whether to be upset or angry. Or even disappointed. Perhaps she expected something like this to happen all along but never wanted to admit it. Her newfound faith in you was crumbling, and she didn’t know if she had it in her to build it back up again.

The head midwife turned to her colleague and whispered something into their ear. Whatever was said the response was a quick nod and a shuffle out of the room.

“Nurse Philips has gone to find her. I’ve given her five minutes. If she can’t find your friend in that time she’s coming back and we’re pushing without either your wife or friend I’m afraid”

“Shit, Y/N. Y/N!” Natasha all but shouted at your limp body as medical staff crowded around you.

“I’m sorry ma’am but you need to back up a little”. A tired looking nurse looked at her. His hair was out of place and he looked like he was in desperate need to sleep. Something they had in common.

“This is my friend's wife. She-, Wanda, her wife is in the labour ward about to have a baby. Two babies”

She was rambling. She knew she was but she couldn’t help it. Panic setting in as the realisation of the situation flooding through her body.

The nurse had sympathy in his eyes. She didn’t want sympathy, she wanted answers.“I’m sorry to hear that but with fear of repeating myself, you need to clear some room. We have to get the patient responsive”

“Responsive? What do you mean responsive?”

“We can’t find a pulse. So please, give us some space”

Natasha had a dilemma.

She was normally quite level headed. Deep breaths and taking a step back from the situation was a full proof way to keep her calm. Most of the time. This wasn’t the same.

When she rushed back to the room Wanda was in she was practically shaking with… something. Anger. Anxiety. Fear. She had to tell Wanda. She couldn’t let her best friend be in the dark about this. Even if she was about to give birth.

“One big push for us now Wanda. We can see babies head”

“I can’t”

Wanda didn’t even look up when Natasha burst through the door. The pain too much to handle to pay attention to anything else other than pushing. And the occasional response to the midwife.

“You can. On the next contraction give us a long one. Deal breaths then bear down”

Natasha was by Wanda’s side in seconds. Moving the hair away from her sweat sodden forehead. Letting her use her hand to squeeze. Which she instantly regretted as soon as she offered it. Her decision to tell Wanda about you circumvented my pain and the need to be there for her friend.

“You’ve got the Wands. One more and Baby A is here. Y/N will be so proud of you, I know it” Natasha spoke into the crown of Wanda’s hair. Even if it was supposed to be you here, she would play your role for wanda if it’s the last thing she would ever do.

There was another squeeze of her hand, an aggressive groan from beside her then a high pitched wail. Wanda slumped beside her in tandem. Exhaustion taking over her as her first born used his lungs to fill the room with noise.

It was mere minutes when the wailing doubled. Two babies. Two new lives had entered the world without even the door being opened. It was the most beautiful thing Natasha had ever witnessed. She was so, so proud of her best friend.

Wanda was debilitated. Rightly so, as both of her children were placed on her chest. She was extremely overwhelmed with everything that she burst into tears. Natasha wiped her cheeks and mumbled whispered praises to her, all while looking down at the two babies she had just brought into the world.

Tony arrived at the hospital less than twenty minutes after Natasha called him in a frantic gaggle of words. If he was being honest, he was ready to give her a piece of his mind for waking him up at the ungodly hour of 2am. But what he managed to decipher between ramblings and short intakes of breath was that you were in trouble and you needed him there.

So that’s where he was. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of a hospital room watching your still body in hopes of something, anything to let him know you were alright.

The rise and fall of your chest did give him some semblance of relief. The emergency doctors had gotten a stronger pulse from you before he got here. Worried you’d been without oxygen for too long, they reassured him the results of the MRI told them otherwise and that you were fine in that department.

So it was just a matter of waiting. You could breathe on your own, your brain looked normal, they’d given you the relative treatment to reverse what they had told him was a heroin overdose. He wanted to kill you and cradle you all at once.

A chime from his phone brought him out of his thoughts. A much needed distraction in this shit show.

Opening his texts he opened one from Natasha. It was an image of two babies swaddled in blue blankets and blue hats. No caption needed. They were beautiful. Pure and fresh and everything he knows you’d imagined them to be.

He wanted nothing more for you to wake up and hold them in your arms.

Taglist

General Taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @jromanoff @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @marrymemcgrath @smileyromanoff @rice-wiife @homiesexyall @wanda-is-my-joker @wackymcstupid @when-wolves-howl @sayah13 @lesbicentism

OTM Series Taglist: @lattayhottay16 @fxckmiup @laylasbunbunny @raqelacevedo @marvelogic

W.M Taglist: @olsensnpm @anaaam @wandsmxmff

#one too many #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #pregnant!wanda x reader #pregnant!wanda #wanda maximoff angst #angst

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dingbatnix · 1 year ago

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Deity (part 1)

So I got to thinking one day, about how everything would have effected Goggs, Sapnap, Karl and Dream after the events of Deity. I mostly wanted to focus on George, cause honestly? He's more fun to write when he's freaking out, and I wanted to mess with the dynamic that is 'Dream is XD,' i.e., Dream is a god and doesn't know how humans work, but he's trying.

Also, I might have gone too heavily into the, 'George is freaking out o gosh,' but idk. The fic grew its own legs.

It's not g/t or anything btw.

Anyway, I think that's enough rambling. Onto the fic!

Word Count: 5,513

Warnings: Fear, Flashbacks, Panick Attacks, I think low-level PTSD/trauma, descriptions of gore, injuries, ectcetera ectcetera.

There had to be at least twelve zombies stumbling after him. Now, normally, they wouldn’t have been a problem for George to handle, (he was an excellent swordsman, and an even better bowman) but as of right now, he was running on about three and a half hours of sleep. The last time he’d rested in any sort of meaningful manner was well over a week ago, and that was only because he had knocked back a weakness potion strong enough to lay a ravager out flat.

Sure, his friends were worried about the possibility of him overdosing on potions (he’d be fine, he only ever drank them on the really bad nights!) And sure, maybe it was an unhealthy way for him to combat the near-constant night terrors, but what else was he going to do!? Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Sapnap’s fear-stricken face disappearing behind a jagged black maw, all he could hear were his own screams of terror mixing with his friend’s, all he could feel was the slick, oily flesh closing around him as he plummeted down, down, down to where he could hear Sapnap’s shuddering cries of despair far below him. It had been months, and he still couldn’t get away from the vivid, mind-crushing images of his death. Not-death. Whatever.

George ducked beneath the rotting hand of a zombie as it swung clumsily at his shoulder, stumbling over his own feet and barely managing to dodge the swipe of another undead hand. He raised his sword and brought the blade down through a pair of brittle knees, sending one of the zombies crashing to the ground.

While he still felt sluggish, he hadn't lost too much of his motor control, and he was still able to defend himself. Unfortunately, he was quickly losing steam in this seemingly endless fight.

George had been exploring the land around the edges of his, Sapnap’s, and their other friend Bad’s house in a desperate attempt to evade the cold, grasping claws of sleep when he had been ambushed by an enormous congregation of mobs. He had some armor on, thank the Go…thankfully, an iron chestplate and a helmet that he had snatched up out of a random chest before he left the house, but it wasn’t enough to really defend against the amount of gnashing jaws and greedy fingers chasing after his flesh.

He had taken out a lot of them, but their numbers would have overwhelmed even Dr—Sapnap, and while George was normally up to par with his arsonistic friend, the sleep deprivation was getting to him, grasping at his limbs with clinging, sticky tendrils and tripping up his every step.

A sudden, heavy snap jarred his entire left arm and shoulder, and he stared in dismay at the jagged, broken line splitting his sword in half clear down to the crossguard. He continued to wield it anyway, unwilling to drop his only weapon, and it lasted through several heavy hits until the bisected blade shattered in a spray of shrapnel. George dodged the shower of sharp metal with a fervent cry, scrunching his eyes shut and scrambling backwards.

In the back of his mind, he heard a horribly familiar, horribly fond voice telling him that it was terribly dangerous to go exploring at night without backup, and that George should let him know if he ever planned to do so. George shivered, pushing the overbearing, seemingly sticky presence away from his mind and tried to focus on the fight.

Rotting fingers snagged on the rim of his chestplate, and he felt more than heard the snap of leather as one of the straps keeping the iron together broke under the sudden pressure of the zombie pulling at it.

Above him, he heard the shriek of a phantom, and then, horribly, the answering call of another. George blinked back the exhaustion stinging at his eyes and shoved at the rotted bodies crowding in and snatching at his limbs. Putrid flesh split under his fingers as he stumbled away, leaving a gross, oily residue on his hands that didn’t quite come off when he swiped his hands against his trousers.

Greedy claws scratched at the back of his neck as he scrambled to run, and he felt his helmet being ripped off by what could only be one of the phantoms following after him from above.

George found himself driven to the top of a cliff. It was relatively small, maybe only about thirty feet high, but there were many, many trees scattered at the base. Some of the branches reached up near to the cliff’s edge, and George warily considered jumping as an escape option. He’d probably break a couple of bones, and at the very worst, be impaled by a stray tree branch, but it'd at least get him away from the slow, shambling force of zombies dogging after him.

His gaze flashed back to the monsters trundling steadfastly behind him, a small line of tension loosening in his shoulders when he saw how far they were. It wouldn’t take them long to catch up, but he had at least a moment of breathing room.

He twisted back around, grateful for the lull in mobs, and stared down at the intimidating drop to the distant ground. If he aimed for that small patch of bushes, maybe, or tried to grab onto that thick branch just a little further to his right—!

Something slammed into his back, screeching against his armor and sending him plummeting face-first off the edge of the cliff. George screamed, flailing as he crashed into the rough upper branches of the trees. Sharp leaves and sticks scratched and tore at his face and clothes, and he had to bring his arms up to shield his face, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to protect them from the painful debris.

A branch caught on his chestplate, slowing him for barely a moment before his weight and momentum had the remaining leather straps holding it together snapping with an awfully final sound. He shrieked, pawing uselessly at the armor that was already high out of his reach as the impact spun him around midair, sending his mind whirling with nausea.

George hit the ground shoulder-first with a harsh whoomph and a gradual puff of dust that drifted away from his body. He cried out, curling inwards as his new injuries rapidly made themselves known. Scratches along his sides and arms and even his neck stung, and various bruises littered all across his body were throbbing in unison. His entire right side was on fire, and he couldn’t tell if any particular part of his side was hurt worse than anything else.

He forced himself to flop onto his back with a choked, muffled scream, the singular movement causing agonized waves to radiate down through his side. He forced down the unwanted tears burning behind his eyes and attempted to suck air into his lungs, mentally counting through the numbers Bad had recently coached him through.

Nothing felt broken, at least, but George was sure that some of his ribs had popped out of place. Every time he tried to breathe in, starbursts of light would fill his fuzzing vision, and a horrendous pain stabbed through the side of his torso, where his ribs were.

He could not move his right arm. The sudden realization froze George in his tracks, and his breath hitched up. The accompanying spikes of pain made it stutter back into a shaky, weak rhythm, but that did little to console his mind.

Either his arm or shoulder was severely dislocated or…severely broken. Either option was very unpleasant for George’s near future. George swallowed, nerves and sudden apprehension drying his throat. If he healed it, it would hurt, but if he left it as it was, it would get worse.

With the trembling fingers of his left hand, he pulled his last, already mostly used-up regeneration potion from his pocket, thankful that it hadn't shattered when he landed, and downed the last few sips remaining in the bottle. He felt something in his right arm crunch back together immediately after, the sudden flash of agony whiting out his vision, but then he could move the limb again, albeit carefully. It didn’t do much for the rest of his wounds, for there was far too little of the potion and he had far too many injuries, but it took enough of the pain’s edge off that he could sit up.

The motion had him gasping in great lungfuls of air, sweat beading along his temples as he pushed through each flare of pain rolling from his ribs. He curled forward and tried to force air into his lungs, wishing he had Bad with him. The demon always knew how to help, be it with panic, or with awful, debilitating injuries.

George bit his lip, trying to distract himself from the throbbing ache pulsing throughout his body. He had to get up, had to get moving. He needed a shelter of some sort, so he could collapse, nurse his wounds, and wait for dawn. Then, he could start making his way back home.

Holding in a whine, he worked himself up to his feet and braced against a tree. The effort it took to stand alone nearly made him black out, and if it weren’t for the support of the tree, he would have fallen back to the ground. George swayed in place, vision spinning in a sickening dance of motion as he breathed deep and slow.

Out of nowhere, he heard the worst sound in the world. The slow, shambling steps of multiple zombies, and even the telltale hiss of a creeper flooded his ears, sending panic and no small amount of despair crashing through his system. Why couldn’t the universe cut him a break? Why did he have to suffer?

Frustrated tears stung at the edges of his vision, and he swung his gaze up to glare at the newest obstacle in his road to survive. Four zombies straggled towards him barely two meters away, and beyond them, the mottled yellow of a creeper slunk, lagging several meters behind.

His fingers curled around the only weapon he could find, a loose piece of bark sticking slightly out from the trunk of the tree he was using for support. He tore it free, managing to break off a piece as long as his forearm and about as wide as his hand, and brandished it at the approaching mobs. If nothing else, he could go out fighting. There was no way he’d survive against four zombies and a creeper in his current state.

Unless…but he shook that thought off. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Just the mere thought paralyzed his throat and made his heart stutter.

As the zombies converged on him, George managed to gut one with the sliver of bark, necrotic flesh tearing open easily under the jagged wood. Intestines spilled out, and then George was being slammed back against the tree trunk, putrid jaws snapping at his limbs and rotten hands scratching at his face. George cried out when teeth fastened themselves into his left elbow, making him lose his grip on his piece of weaponized tree bark. He tried to pull free, horribly aware of the hissing creeper that was steadfastly approaching, but cold, almost completely bone fingers tore at his right bicep, pulling him off balance and nearly sending him to the ground. He yelped, the sudden movement jarring his injuries and making them flare with pain.

Desperation filled his chest, and he realized he only had one, awful option. One awful option that he dreaded, one awful option that might just save his life. He didn’t want his help, though, not at all. He didn’t want to call for him.

…He had to. It was…it was that, or die, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to face the void, wasn’t ready to do that to his friends. He wanted to live, even if it meant calling for his worst nightmare. Would it be better than dying to mobs? He didn’t know. He didn’t have time to debate what might happen next, not while he was seconds away from his gruesome end. Sucking in a breath, George did the only thing he could. He called for Dream.

“Dream!” He screamed, viciously fighting and shoving away the decayed fingers that were chasing after his arms and throat. “Dream, please, I need help!” He felt ridiculous, screaming for someone who probably wouldn't even hear him, for someone who might not even care about him, truly care. George didn’t know if Dream was capable of such a thing. How could he? He wasn’t mortal. He was a God. What God would truly, truly care for something so…so insignificant, when compared to what the heavens had to offer?

George tried to push those thoughts away and attempted to focus on breathing past his burgeoning panic. Dream wouldn’t…wouldn’t do that to him, right? Wouldn’t he…?

Suddenly, there was a crack of booming light, and then a dry, staticy wave of heat that had George and his assailants tumbling backwards. He hit the ground with a choked wheeze, skidding several feet over the mossy, leaf-coated ground. Dizziness swirled through his head, and his elbow and ribs and shoulder screamed in agony. Despite the pain, George propped himself up on his side, panting heavily as he tried to process.

The quick, whistling sound of an iron blade dancing through the air reached his ears, and he managed to glance up to see a blur of yellow plowing through the converging mobs. Not even a minute later, the entire group of monsters was disintegrating in the slight breeze that had kicked up, and the golden blur had solidified into a broad, tall shape that was approaching him.

"What are you doing out here? Alone! At night!?" Large hands closed around his bruised biceps, pulling him to his feet, and George suddenly found himself face-to-face with a gleaming white smiley mask. "You know the mobs are more dangerous in the dark! Prime knows how many times I've warned you!"

He had never been more aware of how tall Dream was until this exact moment, when the man–god–was standing a full head-and-a-half over his own skull, towering over him. The grip on his arms was gentle, but firm, and half of George’s focus was on how strong the hands were, on how fast they might turn to bruising and restraining.

He saw the flash of Dream's teeth as the ma–god–spoke but he didn’t hear the words. All he could think of was what might have happened if the gaping black maw he'd been tossed into had had those sharp incisors. An image of his and Sapnap's mangled, crushed bodies, guts and bones and gore spilling from their split skin flashed through his mind, and his breath hitched.

For a moment, George swore he could feel the thick, oily texture of saliva coating his skin.

George shoved out of Dream’s grip, hands burning where they pressed against the blond's chest, and stumbled backwards, nearly falling as his heel caught on a mossy ridge on the ground. His back hit the trunk of a tree, hard, and he found his fingers digging into the ridged bark to ground himself, both against the waves of pain that jarred his body from the impact, and from the realization that Dream was here, physically present, right in front of him.

"Don't–don't touch me," he managed to gasp out, eyes watering as his breath hitched faster and faster. George tore his hands away from the tree bark, clutching at the collar of his shirt and scratching at his throat as he panted. He couldn’t–wasn’t—he couldn’t breathe!

His knees failed him, and he slid down to the ground, rough bark scraping through his shirt and shredding his skin, but he didn’t notice, couldn’t notice, not when his throat felt like it was closing up, not when it looked like the night sky was bleeding down to rip away his vision.

He was aware that Dream was still in front of him, still looming above his head, but the fact was a distant, dull idea that he couldn’t quite grasp, not when it felt like teeth were closing down around his chest, not when he couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe—

George could swear he heard Sapnap screaming below him.

“I wouldn’t—I would never hurt you, George. I won't. Ever.” The form in front of him shifted, and then all he could see through the fuzzing cloud of darkness was a wash of bright, nearly fluorescent amber blocking the night air.

Two hands, larger than George's own, reached forward and, so incredibly gently, grasped his trembling fingers between wide palms and pulled them away from his raw, seemingly swollen throat.

“George, hey, hey, can you breathe with me? I think you’re having an attack, c’mon, try to breathe–” The voice was muffled, and George barely noticed it. All he could focus on was the warm, nearly hot hold that entrapped both of his hands. His fingers twitched as the buzzing in his ears increased, burying nearly every other sound present. George couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat. Why couldn't he hear his heartbeat?!

“Hhnnnnnn–” George wheezed, desperately trying to jerk his hands free from the impossibly firm grip. The long fingers curled more securely around the backs of his hands, around his wrists, and two thumbs moved to press against George’s palms.

More words were being said, but he couldn't hear them. It felt like his entire head had been forced down underneath the waters of a violent river, and he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe—no matter how hard George struggled, he just could not shake off the invisible hands forcing his head under the rapids.

His hands were suddenly pressed against something soft, something warm, rising up and down in a gentle swell, and he could feel a steady bup-bump, bup-bump, bup-bump pounding beneath his palms. He latched onto the constant pulse, breath hitching up again in concordance with the sudden, unwavering rhythm.

His fingers curled against the warm fabric, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to focus on the phantom touch of muscles crushing around his body. He forced himself to breathe, shuddery as it was, in tandem with the beat of the heart against his palms.

Bup-bump. Bup-bump. Bup-bump. His chest stuttered, but he pushed on. Four, five, six, seven. Breathe out. He wasn’t in a prison of fleshy death. There was bark pressing into his spine, digging stinging pin-pricks into his skin, leaves and grass crinkling under his legs as they quivered. Two, three, four. Breathe in, ignore the hitched sniffle, and breathe out. There were sounds all around him, the noises of the night crickets and the frogs, the hollow, lonely hoot of an owl, the hushed, hesitant murmur of reassurances and instructions from the presence in front of him, of the body his hands were resting against.

George breathed, and slowly, oh so slowly, gained back control of himself. He kept his eyes closed, unready to face the source of his panic.

He’d had episodes like this, many, many times after the incident. Sapnap had them as well, but not nearly as often, nor as intensely as the brunette did. Bad had coached them both through ways to cope, of ways to bring themselves back to reality after their minds plunged them down into the horrible depths of wet–dark–NO—

It was so, so difficult to do on his own, especially when the cause of his spiral was right in front of him, but he had to get himself under control. He forced his head above the violent waves despite the sheer, paralyzing dread, despite the disquiet that filled him down to his very bones, and gasped for air.

He had to face his problem, had to overcome it, Bad had said. If George let it fester in his mind, it would cripple him, it would eventually kill him, the demon had warned. He’d given George a lot of advice. It was probably time George started taking it. He didn’t want to be like this anymore. He just wanted everything to go back to normal.

He pried open his raw, puffy eyes, cheeks glistening with the wet of his own tears, and grasped at his blurry vision, forcing his gaze to focus. His fingers tightened, then relaxed, then clenched again as he worked up the will to look. He inhaled, too fast, and coughed, throat sore and body shaking. It’s like ripping off a plaster. He had to do it quick, or else he’d never manage such a daunting feat.

George breathed, and forced his eyes to actually see.

The offensively bright yellow of Dream’s cropped hoodie crossed into focus, blocking most of George’s view, his own trembling hands clutched against the center of the deity’s chest. Large hands clasped his, the thumb of each running soothing circles into the backs of his hands. The god had sunk down to the ground along with George, knees pressed into the mulchy floor of the forest, grass and twigs squashed up against the dark fabric of his trousers.

George risked a glance up at Dream’s face, terrified of what he would see. Would it be the face of his long-time best friend, or…or would it be the face of the deity who had eaten him?

He was afraid, but he forced himself to look anyway. He had to.

The god’s mask was pushed aside, and Dream’s wide, sparkling hazel eyes sought his own. George flinched, immediately avoiding his gaze and instead focusing on the mossy grass crawling along the roots around his knees.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. All he could see was the face of the creature that had nearly not-killed him.

A hand detached itself from the cradle around his own and appeared just under George's chin, one long finger resting under his mandible and tilting his head up. “Hey,” Dream breathed, voice soft, gentle, even. “It’s alright, George. You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

George’s back stiffened when his gaze was pulled upwards, and his breath hitched when he finally met Dream’s eyes.

Warm hazel shone, a faint, glittering blue light swirling from behind the amber-tinted irises. They seemed to draw George in, and unconsciously, the tense line along his back released, and his shoulders slumped.

His body felt oddly numb, like he had dosed himself with an intense painkiller. He couldn’t really feel the pain that should have been there from his previously accrued wounds, and a distant, vague part of him was…shrieking in alarm. Why did he feel so calm all of the sudden? He recoiled suddenly, yanking his chin out of Dream’s grasp and tearing his eyes away from the god with a gasp. What the hell was that?

“George, are you…okay?” Dream sounded so concerned. George’s gut clenched, mind reeling, and he chewed at the inside of his lip. No. No, he was not, but the crux of his issues was the god sitting right in front of him. George wasn’t about to tell Dream that he was the reason he was freaking out so badly. What if he got mad? What if he decided to actually…

George cut himself off and decided to ask a question of his own in lieu of answering. He…he was not ready to deal with that particular issue. Whatever spark of courage to confront his problems that had struck him earlier had withered and died, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. So, he deflected.

"Why'd you come?" He croaked, words catching in his raw-feeling throat. He coughed, trying to clear the roughness of his voice. “Why…why are you here, Dr-Dream?”

The god paused at his question, thumb faltering in its rotation on the back of George’s hand as the rest of his fingers tightened slightly in their grip. "You…you called for me? You needed help, George. You were gonna…the mobs would have killed you!”

George’s chest stuttered at the reminder, and he flinched when he bit down too hard on the inside of his cheek. The taste of coppery blood flooded his mouth, and he had to swallow it down with a disgusted grimace so that he could speak.

"I didn't think you'd actually…I didn't think you’d actually come, Dream. Why? Why? I’m just…I’m just. Me.” He swallowed again, sucking in a deep breath of the cool night air through his nose. “And you. You’re a. A God. What—why the hell would you come for me? Why do you care?”

He was crying again, hot rivulets of saltine tears streaming down his face to drip down his jawline. His lips twisted into a wobbly frown, and he wiped a damp cheek off on his shoulder. Dream still had a hold on both of his hands. He didn’t know if he wanted the deity to let go.

Dream’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His face morphed into one of sad surprise, and his shoulders slumped. His fingers jittered across the backs of George’s hands as he worked his jaw, brow furrowed and eyes perturbed. Finally, words escaped his throat, a tone George couldn’t quite identify coloring them.

“I…I'll always, always come when you call, George.” The blond breathed, reaching towards George again with his free hand. He paused and drew his hand back when George flinched, but his fingers still twitched as if they wanted to grasp onto something. “I couldn't live in a world without you." He confessed, voice low and just slightly wavery.

A quiet, muddled “Oh,” was all George could muster in response. He felt…it was like a yawning hole had opened up beneath him, and he didn’t know what to do. What did he say to that? That Dream would always want to be there for him, he could…attempt to understand, but. How did he explain to Dream that the m—god’s mere presence nearly shut down George’s ability to function?

He blinked heavily, trying to clear the misted haze that seemed to settle behind his eyes. He was so tired…

Dream’s face softened, and he slowly reached up to brush a thumb over George's cheekbone, right underneath one of the deep, dark bruises hanging below the brunette's eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

“I…four…four days ago…” George trailed off, his throat closing up as the most recent nightmare leeched back up. He’d been endlessly falling, dropped by the hands of huge, indecipherable shadows. He hadn’t been able to see, and the only thing he could hear had been the laughter. He’d woken up after his body had smashed and split open onto a giant, gold gilt dinner plate.

He jerked his head sharply, breaking away from both the memory and from the gentle brush of touch on his face. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want to remember any of it, but it kept coming back. He just wanted everything to be normal again. Was that too much for him to ask?

He finally turned to meet Dream’s gaze, staring the god in the face unflinchingly for the first time since he appeared. His eyes seemed a touch blue-er than they were since George last looked, but that may have been an effect of the sleep deprivation George was suffering from.

The blonde looked worried, and something about his expression pulled oddly at something inside of George’s brain.

What’s wrong, it seemed to say, prodding gently at the back of his mind. Tell me what’s bothering you, and then I can help. It was a vague murmur, a dizzying buzz that clouded his thoughts, and he found himself answering without a single opposing thought.

The words poured out of his mouth, a terrible confession that seemed to rise from his lungs. "I keep reliving—but it's worse, so much worse, because you–you don’t—you—” crush us, you chew us, you kill us–, “and I can't—" It was all too much. He couldn’t—He couldn’t—

George threw himself forward, shoving his forehead against Dream's chest and tangling his fingers deeper into the fabric of the god's hoodie. A long, keening whimper escaped his lips, and a hot stinging intensified behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d never had these thoughts about the Dream before. He’d have trusted him implicitly, but now…every time he thought about him, mind-numbing terror would rocket through his bones, and he'd want to vomit. Or cry, and cry, and cry until he felt nothing at all.

Dream's hands met his shoulders, a heavy, warm presence running down along his back, then up again. George couldn’t help the shiver of fear that thrilled through his gut at the contact. If Dream decided that he didn’t want to let go…

“Oh, oh, George,” arms encircled his shoulders, and fingers ran through his hair as George’s breathing stuttered again, warm tears trickling down to soak into the god's hoodie. His hands would be trembling if they weren’t so tightly clenched.

Dream shifted, slow and easy, as he moved to lean his back against the tree trunk George had been pressed against. His arms stayed around the brunette as he adjusted his position, pulling George against his side, instead of sprawled halfway over his chest. George flinched, then forced himself to relax, attempting to loosen the grip he had on Dream’s hoodie. He wasn’t very…successful.

“I’m so sorry, George. I…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just…I wanted to keep you safe.” Dream confessed, posture slumping against the rough bark of the tree. He sighed, pulling one hand from George’s back to rub at his temples. His face twisted into a grimace, and he glanced up at the night sky through the leaves and branches above them.

"There’s not…I can’t undo what happened. I can’t even stop you from being afraid of me. You…You’re completely justified in that, and I don’t blame you.” Dream’s jaw tensed, the only part of the god’s face that George could see. He tried not to imagine the expression that was decorating the blonde’s face.

Dream continued, seemingly oblivious to George’s strange internal conflicts. “What I can do, though, is help you sleep, if you'll let me."

George startled, at that, and a part of him almost tried to beg at the offer. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, to rest, but he couldn’t. Not when his dreams were so horribly inundated with night terrors and flashbacks.

"You're not going to–to eat me again, are you…?" His voice was hesitant, and it nearly hurt to get the words out. He had to know, though. If that was Dream’s way to help him sleep, then George would bolt, injuries and exhaustion be damned.

The god looked back at him abruptly, eyes wide and brow furrowed, and shook his head viciously. “No, never again, George. I’m not gonna—I won’t do that to you again.” He breathed out a slow huff of air and gently moved a hand over the brunette’s shoulders.

“O–okay, then. Fine.” George mumbled, dropping his gaze from Dream’s. He caught the bright edge of the god’s pleased expression in his peripherals, and tried not to think too hard about what that meant.

"Just lay down, alright? I'll help you sleep. I’ll keep all of the nightmares away."

Dream guided George's head down to rest against his legs, disentangling the brunette’s fingers from his sweater and helping him sprawl on his back over the mossy grass. George had a perfect view of the god's face, framed by the shadowed silhouettes of the leaves above, and, sprinkling through the gaps, the glittering stars of the night sky.

The distant shriek of a phantom sounded high above them, far beyond the trees, and George shrank back against the ground, alarm buzzing through his veins. He pulled his hands up to his chest, fingers tangling together as his nerves jarred though his system. "What…what about the mobs?"

"They won't bother us. I'll keep them away." One of Dream's hands reached down to rest over George's fidgeting digits, while the other rose up to brush the hair away from his eyes.

"Just sleep, George. I'll keep you safe, alright?” The god’s voice washed over him, drawing him deeper into the darkness of the night, and he couldn’t help the overwhelming wave of drowsiness that poured through his body. George’s eyes slipped closed, the afterimage of Dream’s luminescent blue irises fading behind his own eyelids.

His muscles untensed, and he felt…calm. His jittering, pounding heart eased to a slightly-rapid stutter, and the anxious, gut twisting rush that had plagued him for the last several hours drained away. A warmth spread over his entire body, and he couldn’t feel the pain of his wounds anymore.

It didn't feel…natural, but George was too far gone to really care. He was so tired…

So, so tired.

Taglist!!

@brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @kayla-crazy-stuffs @local-squishmallow @skullsnbruises @munchkin1156 @gt-daboss

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #d'yall mind if i tag this as that?#cause i meant technically ots part of it #if not just lemme know and ill take the tags off #writing #seriously how the heck fo i tag notmal stuff?#mcyt vore #referenced vore #giant!dream #tiny!george #referenced #hmmm #tags suck this time #and yes #dream did use magic to try and calm george down : D #bat's writing #deity

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