#an entirely different answer to what i said here

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

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[itsdappleagain]

Hello. I want to introduce an interesting concept that I read about recently called "casteism." It defines the systemic hierarchies in places like the United States. It's going to take race and racism out of the picture for a second. Let's take the US as an example, since I live there.

In America, the dominant caste- those with the most historical legal and societal privilege- are white people. If we want to go further into that, we can define castes in other areas as well, such as gender or sexuality. For example, a heterosexual white man is the most privileged and represented in the United States (always has been able to vote marry, own property, not be considered property, etc.), whereas a queer Black woman is among the least privileged and represented. These hierarchies were instituted a couple hundred years ago with the institution of slavery in the USA, and its our job in the modern age to recognize where the biases we grow up with come from and how we can overcome them.

I don't know if or not you're American, but Tumblr has a huge amount of USAmericans on it and a lot of the shows discussed in this post are American, so lets say it applies.

So, consider this. Was the only representation for white men in media as an insulting caricature of a criminal, thug, idiot, or submissive caretaker to someone "more important?" If you call the cops on a white man for taking a walk in his own neighborhood, does he get shot for it? Did white men used to only be allowed into the country as property? The answer is no, because white men are in the dominant caste in America, and always have been.

So, you were raised in this caste system where white people have always been considered to be above other races, or are influenced by it. There exists messaging and systemic issues everywhere in the US that drill that system into our heads from a young age. Cops and judges are more likely to arrest and convict Black youths for the same crimes that a white kid is given a slap on the wrist for- especially if they are less well off and unable to afford a good lawyer, as is often the case. The convicted person is then behind on education, unable to get a job beyond minimum wage positions, and the cycle of poverty continues.

This does not, and let me really emphasize this to you, occur with white people.

So, let's cycle back around. You said:

"while the comic is about people discriminating against shows with a female lead by focusing on the white guy, the comic implies the show is already discriminative."

So the show is "discriminating" against the white guy by...not having a white guy as the focus?? Help me understand what you're saying here, seriously. If writers and showrunners are able to win the fight to put a non-white woman in the leading role of a show, a role that is just handed to white men and has been for hundreds of years, that's discriminating against the hypothetical white guy by not being about him?

"If somebody is racist towards a white guy, that's fine, because a specific few that aren't even alive anymore were bad people? Well then we can also justify racism against black people, as there have been a handful that've killed and stolen."

How and why do you think that's what racism is??? You think racism happens because someone in their entire race was a bad person at some point??? The issue in the United States is that it used to be legal to OWN SLAVES, and after slavery was abolished (except in prisons) there were still systemic injustices. I could go on for hours on this subject, but I won't right now.

So, okay, let's wrap back around to "That's the exact same attitude biphobes and aphobes have, claiming there's no discrimination against bisexual people or asexual people."

Hi. I'm asexual. No it's not. Your argument for making something not be about the white guy is actually akin to "straight pride." Heterosexuals are part of the dominant caste. Bisexuals and asexuals are not. Discrimination exists because they are different from the dominant caste (straight), just like discrimination existing towards non-white people because they are different from the dominant caste (white), or discrimination existing towards women, intersex, genderqueer, trans, or nonbinary people because they are different from the dominant caste (cis male).

In conclusion, members of the dominant caste who are not and have never been systemically discriminated against don't experience discrimination. I'm white. White people don't experience discrimination for being white. Consistently overlooking non-white, non-male, and/or queer characters in favor of a white male character is an issue in fandom spaces (and other ones, good lord. I'm thinking of the Barbie Oscars).

Others please chime and correct me if anything in this response is wrong concerning systemic racism and everything. I read about a lot of this recently in a book called Caste by Isabel Wilkerson, and I recommend it if you want to read more on America's caste system and how Nazi Germany referenced it when drafting the Nuremberg Laws.

If you comment something stupid and/or unnecessary on this I will reply with critical thinking questions.

[softaestluv]

Breaking Bread

Simon Riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. Your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you.

Simon Riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Sergeant! Reader

Tags: Short n’ Sweet, Fluff, Pining, Angst, Slow burn if you squint, Food as a love language, Eventual romance, Eventual smut, Military inaccuracies

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

on ao3 here!

Simon Riley who you eat with everyday since, becomes a staple piece in your days. A familiar routine that feels anything but.

Unfamiliar, confusing, perplexing because you weren’t exactly sure why Ghost wanted you to sit with him or where you stood with him.

So, you decided standing in the middle of the mess hall, tray in hand, until you find Ghost’s gaze every day was the answer. Wait for his eyes to flick to the empty space in front of him, which they always do; a silent cue for you to join him. And who were you to disobey an order from your lieutenant?

You were a good sergeant, after all.

Found yourself sat across your lieutenant most days. His irises urging you to your ‘seat.’ Greeted him with a soft smile and warm ‘Hi, Lieutenant!’ because you weren’t entirely sure whether he wanted to talk to you or not.

Left the two of you to eat your food in comfortable silence— atleast you hoped it was comfortable for him too. Before you stood up with a sweet ‘Thank you for eating lunch with me, sir.’

He was always there before you, even if you rushed to the mess hall. Always had his food waiting for your arrival, didn’t start eating until you sat with him. Though you were always the first one to stand up to leave, even if he cleared his plate before you had. Waited for you to finish and walk away before he would.

Until one day he wasn’t there, his claimed table empty. You swept your eyes through the room, it would be almost impossible to miss his broad shoulders and skull mask.

You stood there for a few seconds debating if you should sit at the table. What if he never came and you just sat there by yourself? What if he didn’t want to sit by you today?

You had pinched your lips raw in thought by the time a large palm rested on the small of your back. You snapped your head towards the owner; Ghost’s face hovered close as he bent to your height behind your shoulder. Could practically feel his thick chest against your side.

“Comin’?” He asked, breaths shallow like he had jogged there.

He had touched you before, in training, to adjust your position or posture. Ordered you around before moving you on his own accord when you didn’t move fast enough on assignments. You were used to the demanding weight of his palm, but this was different. It was an option, a question rather than a command you had to obey.

“Yeah, uh, yes, sir,” You stuttered out.

Let him guide you to his table— your table?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were coming to sit with me or not today,” You explained as you sat down with him.

“Always gon’ come,” He said, had your skin blooming in an unfamiliar warmth, “Man’s gotta eat.”

Dissolved your worries after that, he asked and you answered.

And faithful to his word he was there, even if you somehow arrived before he had— a rare occasion. You sat at the empty table, food untouched, just as he did for you, until he joined you with a deep grunt as an acknowledgment of your presence.

Dinner was different, the spot to the left of him was taken by Soap more often than not. But still, your lieutenant’s eyes ordered you to sit in the empty space in front of him. Soap was confused at first, welcoming of a fellow sergeant, of course, but curious to Ghost’s gaze.

Though dinner was more like you were eating with Soap rather than Ghost. The two of you spoke while Ghost listened— focused his attention on you between bites. Offered nods as responses and smart remarks to Soap’s banter.

Breakfast with Ghost was your favorite. He did not attend most mornings; you assumed this was because he had to wake earlier than you, complete mandatory work sergeants did not have to. So, if you didn’t see him in the mess hall in the early mornings, you were free to sit with the other sergeants. But if you sat at the empty table in anticipation of his arrival— just in case, well that was another story.

When he was there for breakfast, his shoulders slumped like he was still drowsy from lack of sleep. Hummed quietly when you greeted him instead of his usual dissatisfied grunt or silence. Just a little sweeter at breakfast, maybe it was because he got to muse over a cup of his favorite tea or because the hall wasn’t as packed in the mornings. The absence of loud sergeants and privates eased his irritations.

Maybe it’s cause he got to start the day off with his favorite sergeant.

Few words were shared during this time, you could be sitting with a brick wall for all you knew. He was quite the wall, you thought, sinewy and stalwart, stable and resilient. Still, you hid the small smiles that tugged at your lips whenever he was a little tired, when his bricks chipped and gave away in the light of the mornings. Covered your teeth between gulps of coffee so as not to jeopardize the cracks revealed. When he was just a little softer around the edges in his groggy state.

After what seemed to be weeks of silence, you almost didn’t realize he was speaking to you when he broke it one day. Took a couple of seconds of you staring open-mouthed at him like you had imagined the words from his lips as he arched his brow at you.

“Coffee?” He repeated when you did not answer, gesturing to the cup in your hand.

“Oh! Yes, it’s coffee.” You responded.

You thought that would be the end of it, cursing yourself because your response hadn’t really provided him much to expand upon, but to your surprise another low hum came.

“Course it is,” You watched his nose scrunch under the mask, “How d’ya like it?”

You frowned at his disappointed tone, “Three sugars and cream.”

“Too sweet,” He grumbled under his breath.

“It’s perfect, actually,” You retort, and because you feel like you have to validate yourself to him you add, “I drink tea, too.”

He just hums, like he doesn’t believe you or really care for that matter.

“And you?” You ask, slight bite to your words.

“Hhmm?”

“Your cup.” You explain.

“Tea.” Ghost deadpans, like it’s stupid for you to think anything else would be in it.

“No shit,” You remark, earns you a small twitch to the side of his lips, “How do you like it?”

“Wanna taste?” He muses.

You look at him in shock, lips falling open as you paused in hesitation. You didn’t know if he’s just trying to fuck with you or not, tease you for believing he would actually share with you, so you don’t give him a response. But his hands lift the cup to your mouth anyways, decided he was going to press the ceramic to your lips despite a response, and tilts the liquid into your mouth.

You swallow it, but the taste doesn’t quite melt on your tongue, can’t think about anything else but the fact that your lieutenant is feeding you his cup of tea. Can’t think when his eyes stare intently at you over the cup, watching you diligently take a gulp.

“Good?” He asks, gloved thumb catching a droplet from the side of your mouth.

You nod mindlessly, licking the remnants off your lips. His irises follow the movement.

You don’t say anything more— can’t say anything more when your mind was practically malfunctioning on ‘what the fuck?’

The next day at breakfast, two cups were on the table. You looked at Ghost with furrowed brows.

“For you.”

“Coffee?” You asked.

He shook his head, “Tea.”

From that day forward, Ghost had a cup of tea waiting for you, made just how he liked it. But, how exactly that was, you were still unsure. Told you not to worry, he would keep making it for you if you liked.

So, you let him, even if he was trying to convert you to his ways.

Which seemed to change the dynamic between the two of you. In a way you weren’t completely sure meant, but it twirled and took shape of its own. Not without your own contributions, of course. He made you tea, and in turn, you offered him sweets.

Snapped the chocolate bar you had managed to wrangle on base one day, a delicacy truly, and slowly slid it across the table to Ghost’s side. He looked at you with no emotion, blank and straight-faced.

“Sharing my chocolate with you, lieutenant. Milk chocolate,” You explained, putting your finger to your lips while whispering, “But you mustn’t tell Soap; he’ll feel betrayed. Our little secret.”

“I like dark chocolate better.” He rasped.

Had you rolling your eyes, but still he ate it. Watched him peel his gloves off so he could lick the melted chocolate off his thumbs.

And next time you broke it in two; it was dark chocolate.

It became more than just tea and chocolate exchanged between lieutenant and sergeant. You brought him sweets of all kind once a week, found out the anomaly of a man, Simon Riley had quite a sweet tooth.

And it seemed he looked forward to it just as much as you did, blinked at you starry eyed while he impatiently waited to see what treat you brought him that week. Cherry lollipops, blueberry muffins, lemon biscuits, and chocolate cookies. Your lieutenant was seen with a lollipop stick dangling in his mouth more often than not.

Though on weeks you didn’t bring him sweets, he didn’t seem to mind too much. Told him apologetically that you couldn’t manage to get your hands on any treats that week, but he would always shake his head. Calmed your worries with reassurance that it was okay— lunch with you was the treat.

Made something warm burn in your limbs, tangling its talons and webs through your veins, and settling in your core with the deep timber of his voice.

[cuteandhughesy]

auston matthews -

“you’re such a loser”.

“you’re so pretty it pains me” (said to him).

“keep still you little… troll”.

please & thank you. love your work. :)

Drunk In Love | Auston Matthews

summary: your boyfriend has to pick you up from a bar—only to find that you’re sloshed and feeling playful. prompt no. 15: “you’re so pretty it pains me” + prompt no. 28: “keep still you little…troll.”

[word count] 2.1k

warnings: drinking | drunk behaviour | suggestive dialogue

a/n: how is this my first auston work…this man was the reason I started watching hockey in 2016! i’m back to my roots with this one! also this ain’t super detailed because I don’t have the brain capacity for that 😛

🎵 drunk in love by beyoncé & jay-z

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

auston is immediately bombarded when he steps into the club. not only by the overwhelming smell of hard liquor and various sweet floral perfumes, but by jennifer—your red head bubbly best friend who's celebrating her 27th birthday.

he blinks in surprise as jennifer steps in front of him, freckles still visible even under the flashing lights. "i'm sorry," she hisses, looking over her shoulder at what auston can only presume is you, "but she's sloshed." and that confirms his suspicions.

about 20 minutes ago, he answered jennifer's call. he was expecting the worse—you've always been a naturally clumsy person when drinking, and anytime you go out partying with your friends, you're coming home with more scrapes and bruises than you can count. all jennifer really told auston was that you needed a ride home asap, being very vague about the entire situation.

auston put two and two together pretty quickly.

"it's alright," he says, eyes squinting through the dark atmosphere in search of you and the sparkly red top you left the condo in. you're easy to spot, only because you're standing on top of the bar like you're in some cheesy rom com movie, laughing loudly and dancing while everyone cheers you on.

jennifer smiles awkwardly, green eyes darting between you and your less than amused looking boyfriend. auston curses, moving through the sea of bodies until he's at the crowded bar. he gently wraps his hand around you thigh, not hard, but still firm enough to grab your attention.

you look down, and immediately you're beaming at the sight of him. "austonnnnnn," you slur his name loudly, reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders as he helps you off the table top. as soon as your heels are back on soild ground, you're jumping into auston’s arms—not without almost missing him and falling to the floor if it wasn't for auston's reflexes.

"woah, slow down," he warns lightly, large hands a warm and steady presence on your hips as he steadies you. "hi baby." auston grins slightly, eyes barley visible under the rim of his ball cap. a hiding feature he chose on purpose—auston wasn't really in the mood to wake up tomorrow morning and read a bunch of news tabloids about him picking up his hammered girlfriend at a local toronto club.

"hi." you grin, blinking slowly. auston can feel your heat through hour top-your skin hot to the touch, the affect off one too many shots. the hair you'd previously slicked back into a pony tail is now frizzy and down—eyes glassy and not all there.

auston snickers, already moving you away from the table and back to the direction of the entrance. "are you drunk?" he teases knowingly.

"pssshhh...no!" you decline loudly, shaking your head—but the way you misstep tells a whole different story. you don't even notice that though, too busy looking at your boyfriend with an imaginary lightbulb flickering above your head, "have you come to take a shot with me?" you ask, your excitement obvious.

auston hums, "no, i'm here to bring you home."

"but im not ready to go home," you pout.

"I know, but you can come out next weekend."

his words seem to do the trick, because your face relaxes and your lips form into a lazy grin. "oh yeah," you say matter of factly like it was you who came up with the idea.

"do you have your bag?" auston asks before the both of you can step outside, "where's your phone?"

your small chain bag is slung over your shoulder—which, thank god, because auston did not want to have to search for it in the women's bathroom or under the sticky tables. "my phones under my boob," you say.

he reaches out, fingers sliding under your boob to make sure it is in fact in your top.

it makes you giggle, arching into his touch, completely oblivious. "trying to cop a feel?," you slur, way too loudly for a public space. "you freak."

auston can't help the breathy laugh that leaves him, pulling off your body once he has confirmation that your phone is sitting between your ribs and left boob. "just making sure you've got everything," he corrects your insinuation lightly, wrapping his hand back around your hips. "okay, let's go."

the cold air is a shock after spending time inside the overpacked and overheated club. you instinctively curl into his side, seeking some warmth—no matter how drunk you are, you'll always find a way to get chilled.

as soon as his car is in your line of sight, you gasp, mumbling something incoherent before attempting to run towards the vehicle. you obviously don't get far, not with auston's arm holding you upright, but that doesn't stop you from stumbling on uneven sidewalk—almost sending you to your knees.

it has you giggling but also somehow gasping dramatically all at the same time.

"careful." auston chimes firmly, digging in his back pocket for his keys to unlock the car.

"woah that was scary," you snort, looking up at him with those glassed over eyes he loves. "did you almost trip too?" you ask, dead serious.

auston opens the passenger door, "almost."

"that wouldn't of been good," you slur.

"no, it wouldn't of been." he agrees easily, guiding you into the vehicle, "okay, left foot first babe."

but you're not going that easily. you turn to your boyfriend again, face flashing in fucking betrayal like he just asked you to root for the bruins. "you haven't even kissed me yet," you whine, feet planted on the concrete while your butt connects with the car seat.

he sighs, "let's get in the car first."

"please?" you slur, leaning forward dangerously. auston grips your biceps before you can face plant to the ground, but you're completely oblivious, continuing to beg in a mixture of babbling and slurring, "you're so pretty it pains me! and I need a kiss to make me feel better."

auston takes a deep breath, staring down at you for a beat—seeing if you'll give up. but you don't, continuing to look up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, lips slightly pouted and stained as you wait rather patiently. he sighs again before leaning down and giving you a quick peck.

you beam when be pulls away, bringing your left foot into the car. "you love me," you hum dreamily.

"yeah I do," auston smiles, guiding your right leg inside the car before he leans over your body, clicking the seat belt into place.

you kiss the side of his face sloppily as he makes sure you're buckled, "I love you too."

the 15 minute drive back to your and auston's shared condo is filled with the sound of your voice, singing along to random radio songs in an impromptu karaoke session. anytime you look over at auston and see that he's not singing, you squawk loudly, poking his cheek persistently until he joins in.

thankfully you don't give him too much trouble getting back out of the car, or on the elevator ride up to your floor—the most you do is stumble and talk too loudly, but auston finds it rather funny. you resemble a baby deer, and when he tells you that, you start tearing up about how cute baby animals are.

felix, your shared dog, eyes you both grumpily from his spot on the couch as you pass, clearly upset at be woken up.

auston guides you into the bedroom, helping you kick your heels off while you continue crying, now specifically praising baby horses and their tiny little horse shoes.

he grabs your oversized pyjama shirt, which is actually one of his old men's league shirts that you'd stolen years ago when you first met. auston turns back to you, placing the shirt beside you on the bed. "okay," he starts, "arms up baby."

"why?"

"because you need to get changed," auston says.

you whine, muttering something about feeling tired. regardless you lift your arms, limbs all floppy and heavy as auston attempts taking your sparkly top off.

you wiggle and squirm, laughing as auston's calloused fingers graze against the side of your ribs. your movement makes him sigh, teetering on impatient. "stay still you little...troll."

that gets you to stop moving. "hey! that's mean." you pout incredulously.

"it's not," auston answers easily, pulling your shirt fully off. now free, your phone falls to your lap with a plop. "trolls are cute"

you arms drop to your sides quickly, "no they're not."

"shhh," he teases, pulling off your skirt and tights in one quick and efficient move. "you'll hurt their feelings."

"my boobs are out," you say after a beat.

auston snickers, pushing your head through the stretched neck hole of his old shirt. yeah, they are," he hums, moving to your arm and bending it at the elbow, “hey, put your arms through the holes."

"nooooo," you whine, falling forward to auston’s chest and wrapping your sticky arms loosely around his neck. "I wanna give you a kiss." you mumble, already in the middle of covering his scruff covered jawline in tequila scented kisses. one of your hands sneaks down his body, and before he can even blink, your grabbing his dick.

"jesus baby," his breathe hitches, pulling your hand off his length and putting it back in your lap.

you giggle, "you like that?"

auston shakes his head, putting your arms through the shirt holes before you can grab his dick again. "not tonight, you need to go to sleep."

your face falls. "you don't want me?"

"not when you're drunk."

you scoff, tears pricking your waterline as auston fully pulls the shirt down over your naked body. "you hate me." you state dramatically, arms crossing over your chest.

"not at all," he reassures you softly.

"but you don't want me."

"you're drunk." auston reiterates, which only makes you hum. he can't help the smile that pulls on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at your slurred words and usual drunk shenanigans. "okay baby, let's get you in bed."

the next two minutes are silent as your boyfriend helps you slip under the covers. you sigh happily as the cool sheets envelop around your limbs, head sinking into the fluffy pillow like you're lying on a cloud. auston leaves your lamp on, putting your phone on the beside table—making sure it's plugged in for the morning—before he turns to leave.

but just as his hand touches the door knob, you're whining. "austonnnnnn."

"yes?" he asks, brow quirked.

you make grabby hands at him like a toddler. "come lay with me."

"i'm going to," auston says, "I just gotta take felix out first."

the mention of your dog has you sitting straight up, once again wide awake. auston can't help the way he sighs, falling back against your bedroom door in what feels like defeat.

"can I come?" you ask him, voice full of hope and joy at the thought of running your hands through felix's soft and curly coat. you’ve never wanted to cuddle him more than this very moment.

auston shakes his head gently, "no."

"whyyy?" you whine, lips pouting for the hundredth time tonight. "I love him so much." you admit, voice thickening with emotion as you blink at your boyfriend through the warmly lit bedroom.

he walks back towards you, softly pushing your hair off your face. "I know you do," auston mumbles, thumb stroking your brow bone. "but you're not wearing pants and it's cold outside."

you frown deepens, a single shiny tear falling from your eye and tracing down the round of your cheek. "but," you pause, sniffling gently, "felix will think I don't love him if I don't come."

auston shakes his head, "that's not true." but you only cry more, shrinking in on yourself as sobs wrack through your body. auston coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek.

even drunk, you don't play about your love for felix.

"how about when I get back I bring him in here for the night?" auston proposes sweetly.

your head lifts, and the sight of your watery eyes have auston pouting. "really?"

"yeah."

and he fully intends on keeping his promise, but 30 minutes later—once the dog has done his business and trotted around the condos front grass—auston opens the bedroom door, only to find you sound asleep.

[gf2bellamy]

dating Spencer being Rossi’s daughter!! reader maybe does not work at BAU… you decide the whole theme of it. i think would be such a fun dynamic ♡

approval — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: hotch and rossi drinking wine a/n: hii!! this was fun to write <33 hope you like this :)

“I still don’t like this,” Rossi muttered, his deep voice laced with disapproval as he narrowed his sharp eyes at you and Spencer.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dad, you’re being dramatic.”

“I’m Italian. It’s in my blood,” he shot back, before turning to Hotch for support. “Back me up here.”

Hotch, ever the neutral party, merely sipped his wine and observed, his lips twitching as though fighting back a smirk.

It was supposed to be a relaxed evening. Rossi had invited the entire BAU team to his house for one of his famous cooking lessons, a tradition he claimed would “bring class” to their chaotic lives.

You had, of course, tagged along—not just because it was Rossi’s house, but because you were his daughter. And because there was no way you were letting your father play gatekeeper over your relationship with Spencer.

The rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet, leaving only you, your father, Hotch, and Spencer in the spacious kitchen. The scent of simmering tomatoes and fresh basil filled the air, blending with the rich aroma of garlic.

Spencer stood beside you, as he studied the framed picture on the wall. It was an old photo—one of you and your father in Italy, standing in front of a breathtaking vineyard.

“You look happy here,” Spencer noted, smiling as he turned to glance at you. His hazel eyes softened.

“Italy does that to you,” you mused. “Something about the air, the food, the history…”

“…The men,” Rossi interrupted, cutting his eyes at Spencer.

Spencer blinked, looking mildly alarmed. “I—uh—”

“Oh my God, Dad.” You groaned, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands. “Can you stop trying to intimidate Spencer?”

“I’m not intimidating him,” Rossi said innocently, taking a slow sip of his wine. “I’m just making sure he knows what he’s getting into.”

Hotch finally gave up trying to hide his amusement. “I think he’s aware, Dave.”

Rossi exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face as if this was physically painful for him. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms. “Can you stop acting like Spencer is some kind of criminal? He works with you. You trust him with your life at work, but suddenly, when it’s me, he’s a threat?”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because you’re my daughter,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Spencer, caught between wanting to defend himself and not wanting to challenge David Rossi, shifted uncomfortably. “Sir, I assure you, my intentions are completely—”

Rossi pointed a finger at him. “Don’t ‘sir’ me. That just makes me feel old.”

“You are old,” you muttered under your breath.

“I heard that,” Rossi shot back.

Spencer glanced at Hotch helplessly, as if expecting backup. Hotch just shook his head, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “This is between you and her father, Reid.”

Spencer exhaled slowly, then straightened his shoulders. “Mr. Rossi—”

Rossi raised an eyebrow.

Spencer corrected himself. “Rossi… I know how much your daughter means to you. And I know that nothing I say tonight is going to fully convince you that I’m good enough for her. But I love her. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You had to suppress a smile. Especially when Rossi's eyes narrowed down on you.

Rossi’s jaw twitched, and for a second, he looked like he might actually soften. Then, with a deep sigh, he turned to Hotch. “Aaron, tell me I’m not being unreasonable.”

Hotch smirked, sipping his wine. “Do you actually want an answer?”

Rossi turned back to Spencer studying him for a long moment. The room was so quiet you could hear the faint bubbling of the sauce on the stove.

Finally, he sighed. “You love her, huh?”

Spencer nodded without hesitation. “I do.”

Rossi exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before grabbing his glass again. “Alright, genius. You pass for now.”

Spencer blinked. “I—wait, what?”

Hotch chuckled. “That’s as close to approval as you’re going to get tonight, Reid.”

You grinned, slipping your hand into Spencer’s. “I’ll take it.”

Rossi sighed again, shaking his head as he reached for the bottle of wine. “I need another drink.”

Hotch smirked. “I think you need to stir the sauce before it burns.”

Rossi muttered something in Italian under his breath before turning toward the stove, still grumbling about “too-smart kids” and “no respect for their elders.”

Spencer leaned in and whispered to you, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

You squeezed his hand. “Yeah. He likes you more than he lets on.”

Rossi’s voice rang from the kitchen. “Don’t push it.”

[asterkatt]

ISAT ACT 5 SPOILERS!!

okay I said I was going to give more thoughts on act 5 of ISAT and then uh. I didn't. oopsies. but we're here now!!

I loved Odile's friendquest in this act SO much. one of my favorite things about the way the game handled Siffrin's actions throughout the entirety of act 5 in general is that everyone's reactions to him were so DIFFERENT. but not only were they different, they had reasons for being different. it wasn't just "Siffrin says something messed up, hurts someone's feelings, pushes it down, rinse and repeat". each "breakdown" was specifically tailored to be character specific. to fit in with how they've behaved in the story thus far, as well as how Siffrin feels about them/tends to respond to them in particular. with Mirabelle, it really was entirely accidental. Siffrin didn't even realize how their wording might come across in the moment. It wasn't him lashing out in any way - just him genuinely trying to cut corners. Odile?? Odile's was very different. it's easy to see that there's a lot of tension between Siffrin and Odile - more tension than there is with anyone else. Odile has been a thorn in Sif's side - constantly observing and watching and theorizing about why they're behaving strangely. I did the sus quest. Sif knows that she has the ability to figure it out. Consequently, they have to be way more aware of her than anyone else. (side note that's not entirely relevant to this but I want to bring it up - the fact Siffrin believes that her constant eye on him is because "she doesn't trust you" makes me sick. because that's not it at all. they might pretend it is. hell, she might act like it is. but it's not and she knows that. she knows it's because she's worried because she cares and Siffrin can't understand that.) so I feel like they took the "mistake" of messing up with Odile harder than they took any of the other interactions. because how could they be so stupid. how could they forget. how could he forget that she always figures it out.

so of course he lashes out. not only are they being faced with the same blinding mistake they've made over and over and over again, it's also a reminder that she doesn't trust him. (and why should she?).

and then she goes and makes it all worse by calling him a "friend". because they know that's not how she sees them. he believes that she doesn't trust him. so it must seem like she's directly lying to his face - and she thinks they're too dense to see through it.

I love that Odile doesn't back down. she doesn't shy away when they start yelling at her. she doesn't let it slide just because she made them upset (Isa and Mira both probably would - though Isa would try and get them to talk about it later). she pushes, because that's the only way she's going to get any answers.

the way you can feel her anger when Siffrin hits her where it hurts the most (without even seeing her face) is just AUHGSKJDHFKJSH. the writing of this game. the details. never cease to amaze me. I love the way she snaps back. she doesn't get angry, she doesn't yell - and yet somehow it hurts just as badly.

I also love the way Siffrin reflects on it - the way they acknowledge that "she was only worried about you!!!" because deep down he knows that their friends do actually care about him. the way Odile handles the situation afterwards as well - at the clocktower?????? I love that you can tell she's trying so hard to make the "right" choice to not endanger them when it's not what she wants. she doesn't want to leave Siffrin behind. If they weren't going to take on the King the next day, I guarantee you she'd be using anything in her power to figure out what was going on with him. I don't have the exact quote rn but at the end of the sus questline she mentions that she can't let something go when she finds it odd - and this is BEYOND odd. but she has to put the safety of the whole group and their mission first, and I love seeing that side of her.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Lost on you?

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this initial Lando story but eventually, Oscar's (I made up the years so maybe they aren't exactly accurate) , let me know what you think, inspired by LP's Lost on you :) If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

2010 - You met Lando Norris when you were both kids, running through the karting tracks with scraped knees and boundless energy. Your fathers had been friends, and it was only natural that the two of you grew up together.

From the start, you adored him. He was the boy with the bright smile, the one who made you laugh even when you were exhausted from traveling between races. When he started karting competitively, you were there with your camera, capturing every moment.

“You should be my photographer forever,” Lando once told you, after you showed him a shot of him mid-race, helmet tilted at just the right angle to make him look invincible.

You had only been twelve at the time, but you took those words to heart.

2014 - You’re thirteen, standing by the track with your camera in hand, capturing every moment of Lando’s race. He’s just won, and as he rushes toward you, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re my lucky charm, you know that?” he says, grinning down at you. Your heart stutters.

Maybe, just maybe, you’re special to him too.

2018 - He had just signed his contract for F1, and the celebration is wild. Champagne bottles pop, the team cheers, and he finds you in the crowd.

“You’re coming with me to McLaren, right?” he asks, a little breathless.

You laugh. “Of course, Lando.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he smirks. “Good. Couldn’t do this without you.”

That night, when the party dies down, you sit beside him, your hand brushing against his. But he never holds it.

2021 - You’re on his yacht, late at night after his podium finish. The city lights flicker over the water, and he turns to you, tipsy and smiling.

“If things were different,” he murmurs, “maybe we’d be something, huh?”

You barely have time to react before he laughs it off.

“Forget I said that,” he adds, walking away, leaving you frozen in place.

2023 - You’ve spent over a decade by his side, capturing his career, supporting him, loving him in the quiet spaces between races and podiums. And yet, he never stays. He never chooses you.

So, one night, you gather the courage.

“I need to know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you feel the same way, or if I have to move on.”

Lando stares at you. “YN, you’re my best friend, but—”

“But I’m not enough,” you finish for him.

His silence is louder than any rejection.

“I don’t fit your life? That’s rich, considering I’ve spent my entire life in it.”

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Then explain it to me,” you press. “Because I’ve been here for everything—every race, every podium, every heartbreak. I’ve been the one who’s stood by you through all of it. And you’re telling me I don’t fit your life?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s different. You don’t get it.”

You laugh bitterly. “No, Lando, I get it perfectly. I was good enough when you needed someone to boost your ego, when you wanted someone to flirt with but never commit to. I was good enough when you needed a constant in your life. But now, suddenly, I’m not?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, frustration creeping into his voice. “It’s about me, about what I need.”

You step back, crossing your arms. “And what you need isn’t me.”

His silence is all the answer you need.

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore, Lando. You don’t get to keep me around like some backup plan. I deserve better than that.”

He doesn’t stop you when you walk away.

2025 - A McLaren dinner. You weren’t going to come, but Oscar insisted. And when you arrive, hand in hand with him, you know you made the right choice.

Lando is laughing with the team until he hears your voice.

“Sorry we’re late,” you say, squeezing Oscar’s hand before taking your seat beside him. “There was traffic.”

Silence.

Lando looks up, eyes locking with yours. Shock. Regret. Something else. But it doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re finally moving on.

Oscar wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before diving into conversation with the team. You’re laughing, engaged, your eyes bright in a way Lando hasn’t seen in a long time.

And suddenly, it hits him.

That could have been me.

It’s a thought that won’t leave his head as the night goes on. He watches how Oscar pulls you closer when you shiver, how you whisper things to him that make him chuckle. How you look at Oscar the way you used to look at him.

Lando had thought you would always be there. That no matter how many times he led you on and pushed you away, you’d stay.

But now, as Oscar presses a soft kiss against your lips, Lando realizes he was wrong.

And he has never regretted anything more in his life.

[xanneeeyyyy]

Pt. 3 Is It Too Late For Us?

.⊹ °ʚ☆��°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ .⊹°ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹°ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x Female Reader

Synopsis: Katsuki Bakugou was the one who let you go—only to realize too late that some mistakes can’t be undone.

Part 1 Part 2

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ .⊹°ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹°ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹

As of this moment, only two things were running through his mind:

It was raining like hell.

He was completely, irreversibly out of his damn mind.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the unbearable ache that had been gnawing at him since the moment he saw her again.

But for whatever reason, his feet had carried him here—to her.

A single rose in his trembling hand, the only one left at a flower shop where the florist had pitied him.

Pathetic he thought,

He, of all people, was standing in front of an apartment door, hesitating. He could face death head-on, fight villains without blinking, but this—had his heart hammering in his chest like a caged beast.

Do it, Bakugou.

He can do almost fucking everything. This will be nothing— i guess. He swallowed hard, lifting his fist to knock, but before he could—

The door swung open. And there, stepping out, was someone else.

A man.

The world seemed to tilt.

Katsuki barely registered the guy—he wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes were locked on you.

"Eh?" The man—looked between you and bakugou before sighing. His voice was calm, but it only made the ringing in Katsuki’s ears louder. "I trust you, Y/N," the man said softly before turning away. "I’ll call you later."

Katsuki felt sick.

The moment stretched, the silence unbearable, the rain beating down like a cruel reminder of his own mistakes.

Finally, you spoke.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice was quiet, unsure. Katsuki tightened his grip on the rose, his knuckles white. He opened his mouth—no words came out.

What was he doing here?

What was he expecting?

Then, your expression shifted.

Your eyes widened.

"Katsuki!" You rushed toward him, and before he could step back, your hands were on his face. "Why are you crying?!"

Crying?

His breath hitched as he felt something warm slide down his cheek. He hadn’t even realized. He wasn’t the type to cry—hell, when was the last time he even shed a tear? But now, standing here, drenched in rain, staring at the only girl he ever loved—he was crumbling. His grip on the rose trembled.

"Does he know," Katsuki choked out, his voice raw, "that you still fucking cry every damn time you watch Hachiko?"

Your breath hitched.

"Does he know that cookies and an entire goddamn jug of coffee or ice cream are all it takes to cheer you up?"

He stepped closer, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Does he know that you still try to eat spicy food even though your dumb ass can’t handle it?"

His voice cracked.

"Does he know that you love stargazing at two in the fucking morning? That you stare at the night sky like it holds all the answers, like it’s the only thing that understands you?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"Does he know that your eyes sparkle when you smile? That you love forehead kisses? That you get easily annoyed, but you're even easier to love?"

The tears wouldn’t stop now. His or yours—neither of you could tell the difference anymore.

"Does he know that you cry yourself to sleep when no one’s there to hear? That you still hug your pillow at night like it’s the only thing holding you together?"

His voice cracked, raw with something that made your heart shatter.

"Does he know that you liked being held? That you’d melt the second I wrapped my arms around you because you feel much safer?"

Tears slipped down his face, but he didn’t wipe them away.

"Does he know that—" his voice faltered, but he forced himself to keep going,

"—that I still love you?"

The rose in his hand was crushed now, but he didn’t care.

You gasped softly, your tears spilling over as you took another step forward, wrapping your arms around him. He didn’t hesitate—he buried his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply.

You smelled the same.

You felt the same.

And for a second—a fleeting, cruel second—he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.

But then, you spoke. "Katsuki..." her voice wavered, and his stomach twisted. "I think you’re right," she whispered. "He doesn’t know all of that," His grip on her tightened. "But..."

The word shattered him before she could even finish.

"But it’s okay," she murmured. "It’s okay that he doesn’t know all of it. There’s still time for him to learn. And who knows? Maybe he’ll discover new things in the long run."

It felt like his entire world had collapsed.

Katsuki pulled back, his hands trembling. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Is that really it, y/n?"

You didn’t answer.

"Can’t I—" he swallowed hard, "—request a damn sequel anymore?"

Your silence was deafening.

"Are we really ending it? Is there no chance for us to go back to the way we were before?" Your lips trembled, her tears mirroring his own. Then, in the softest, most broken voice he’d ever heard from her—

"I’m sorry, Katsuki... I’m so, so sorry..."

And just like that—

It was over.

⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this update! This series will be a four-part journey, plus an alternative ending. Your support truly means the world to me, and I can’t thank you enough for sticking with me! ❤️

If this post hits 150 likes and 15 reblogs, I just might drop a double update (Happy & Alternate Ending!) 👀🔥 Who’s in?

© 2025 CODE:BKXY — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[sturnsblogs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Chapter 4: Slipping Up

Chris sat on the couch at Avery’s house, scrolling through his phone while absentmindedly eating a bag of chips. Avery was beside him, legs crossed, painting her nails with an expensive-looking polish.

“You’re quiet,” she said after a few moments, barely looking up from her nails.

Chris blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

Avery sighed, setting the bottle of polish down. “You’ve barely said two words since you got here. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

It wasn’t nothing, though. It had been over a week since he’d talked to you, and the silence was starting to get to him. He told himself it was fine, that it wasn’t a big deal. But the truth was, he missed you. He missed how things used to be.

With you, everything had been effortless. You actually got him. You laughed at his dumb jokes, you never took things too seriously, and you didn’t judge him when he did something stupid just for the hell of it.

Avery? she was different.

“Chris, ew,” she suddenly groaned, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He frowned. “What?”

“You’re chewing so loud,” she complained, her face twisted in disgust. “And you’re talking with your mouth full. It’s actually disgusting.”

Chris blinked, looking at her like she had just spoken a different language. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” Avery huffed. “God, you’re like a little kid sometimes.”

Without thinking, Chris rolled his eyes and said, “Relax, Y/N.”

Silence.

It took a second for the words to register. But when they did, his entire body tensed.

Avery slowly turned to look at him, her expression unreadable at first. But then her lips pressed together, her eyes narrowed slightly, and he knew—he knew—he had just messed up.

“What,” she said, voice eerily calm, “did you just call me?”

Chris felt his stomach drop. “Shit.”

“Avery,” he corrected quickly, sitting up straighter. “I meant Avery. It was a mistake.”

Avery let out a humorless laugh, standing up from the couch. “A mistake? You accidentally called me your ex-best friend’s name? Wow, Chris, that’s so convincing.”

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Avery, come on, I didn’t mean to—”

“You did mean to,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “You don’t just accidentally say someone else’s name unless you’re thinking about them. So go ahead, Chris. Tell me how much you miss her.”

“I didn’t say that,” Chris muttered, though the guilty look on his face didn’t help his case.

Avery scoffed. “You didn’t have to.”

Chris exhaled, already feeling the headache forming. “Avery, don’t do this.”

“Do what?” she shot back, voice sharp. “Acknowledge the fact that you’re clearly still obsessed with her?”

“I’m not obsessed with her,” Chris snapped, standing up now too. “She was my best friend. Of course I miss her.”

“Oh my god,” Avery laughed, shaking her head. “Chris, do you even hear yourself? Was your best friend? You still talk about her like she’s the most important person in your life.”

Chris clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from saying something he’d regret.

“You haven’t talked to her in a week, but she’s still on your mind so much that you just called me her name?” Avery continued, her voice rising. “That’s not just some stupid mistake, Chris. That’s proof that you still want her around!”

Chris groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Avery, I don’t want to fight about this.”

“Of course you don’t,” she scoffed. “Because then you’d have to admit that you’d rather be with her than with me.”

“That’s not true,” Chris argued, though even he wasn’t sure how much he believed it.

Avery tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Then answer one thing for me, Chris. And be honest.”

He exhaled, already dreading whatever was coming next. “What?”

“Do you like her?”

Chris blinked. His stomach twisted at the question.

“What?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her right.

Avery crossed her arms tighter. “You heard me. Do you like Y/N?”

Chris opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He wanted to say no, to immediately shut it down. But the hesitation—the damn hesitation—hung in the air, suffocating them both.

Avery scoffed. “Wow.”

Chris shook his head. “Avery, come on. It’s not like that.”

“Then say no,” she challenged. “Say you don’t have feelings for her.”

Chris clenched his jaw. He could lie. He should lie. But for some reason, the words refused to leave his mouth.

Avery let out a dry laugh, her eyes flashing with something between anger and disappointment. “That’s what I thought.”

Chris exhaled sharply, feeling completely drained from the argument. “Avery, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to be honest with yourself,” she said, her voice lower now but still sharp. “And maybe—just maybe—I want to be with a guy who actually wants to be with me, not someone who’s too busy missing another girl to realize what he already has.”

Chris clenched his fists at his sides. “Avery—”

“No,” she cut him off. “I think you should go.”

Chris stared at her, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. But at the same time, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to stay.

Without another word, he grabbed his phone, shoved it in his pocket, and walked out the door.

And for the first time in weeks, he didn’t even pretend to ignore the ache in his chest.

A/N- I think i like this 🙂

THANK YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH TO @blushsturns for help. i love this girl so much.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @chrislilcumslvt @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @mylittled0ve @oopsiedaisydeer

TAGLIST FOR MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 3

[anotherworldawaitsus]

The Girl Next Door

Synopsis: A new neighbor turns Melissa’s world upside down.

Chapter: 4/10 (The Addict)

Series Warnings: Slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective Melissa, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: Minor violence, mentions of drug use, homophobic slur, sibling rift, protective Melissa has arrived

—————————————-

You had purposely chosen a neighborhood far removed from the streets where you grew up, carefully avoided all your old haunts, kept your head down. But you knew you couldn’t hide forever. It was only a matter of time until the past came knocking.

Which is why, when you rounded the corner one Friday night in April, you weren’t entirely surprised to see your little brother Mikey standing outside your apartment building. His face was thinner than you remembered, but you recognized him instantly.

“Hiya, sis,” he said, a flicker of that old smile ghosting across his features as you approached. “Heard you were back in town.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Ouch,” he said, scuffing his shoe into the ground. “We ain’t seen each other in how long, and that’s the first thing you—”

“What are you doing here?” you repeated loudly. A muscle in Mikey’s jaw jumped as he ground his teeth together. He hated to be interrupted.

“You gonna invite me in?” He plastered a fake smile on his face as a group of people walked by, nodding hello on their way to the bars. “Or should we just yell on the street like animals?”

You hesitated, sizing him up. He was practically a stranger to you, and you’d bet your entire paycheck that he was still spending every hour of the day getting high. But you didn’t care. Suddenly, you were eager for a fight.

“Why not?” A corrosive fury simmered in your veins as you pushed past him and unlocked the door.

“You got a nice place,” Mikey said once you were both inside. He looked around, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. His eyes were restless, hungry.

You grabbed two beers from the refrigerator and handed him one.

“How’d you find out where I live?”

Your tone was blunt, unfriendly. He looked away.

“Duncan said you had a party here last month.”

“Duncan Davies?” you laughed darkly. “That little shit stain always had a big mouth.”

“Yeah well,” he said. “Guess my invite got lost in the mail.”

You scoffed, opening your mouth to say fuck yes it did. But suddenly your phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, you saw it was Boone.

“I gotta take this,” you said. “Work.”

Mikey bobbed his head, took a sip of beer. You stepped into the kitchen and answered the call, not even bothering to say hello.

“Your surprise party is the gift that keeps on giving,” you hissed.

“What do you mean?” You heard the rustling of papers and pictured your friend sitting on his sofa, rolling a joint.

“I mean,” you said, trying to keep your voice low. “Word got back to my burnout brother, and now he’s standing in my living room.”

Boone swore softly.

“I told you I wanted to keep a low profile, but you just had to be a goddamn social butterfly.” You knew you were being unfair, that you were just amped up and looking for someone to blame.

“What does he want?”

You ran a hand through your hair. “I have no idea.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Boone said. “But you can’t exactly avoid your family forever, can you? Maybe this is a good thing.”

“Trust me,” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your eyes. “It’s not.”

You hung up, sagging against the counter for a moment and taking a few deep breaths before you walked back into the living room.

Mikey didn’t hear you come in. He was hunched over the table by the front door, rifling through a drawer. Your wallet was in his left hand, a wad of bills in his right. Outrage licked its way up your spine, dull and painful. Of course.

“Looking for something?”

His head snapped up so fast it almost made you wince.

“I can explain,” he said. “This ain’t what it looks like.”

“No?” you laughed darkly. “Because it looks like you’re still a junkie and a thief.“

Fury clouded his features. He had been handsome once, but his face had a wasted look to it now. The hollows of his cheek were overly pronounced, almost skull-like.

“I just need something to get through the week,” he said, gripping the cash tightly in his fist.

“Where have I heard that one before?” you mocked. “Oh, right, at dad’s funeral, when you showed up loaded and begging mom for money.”

His cheeks flushed bright red. “You’re such a bitch.”

You slammed your beer down on the table hard enough that the bottle shattered. For a second, neither of you moved. His eyes glittered with malice, shame, sorrow. You remembered a time when you would have done anything for him, your baby brother with the same irresistible smile as your dad.

“Put the money down,” you growled. “And get lost.”

His lips twitched. “Make me,” he taunted.

The words were barely out of his mouth before you lunged. You’d always been faster when you were kids, and you were pleased to see you could still get the drop on him. You grabbed his neck, dog-walking him toward the door with his head squeezed tightly under your armpit.

“Let me go!” he yelled, voice strangled by your chokehold. “Get your fuckin’ hands off me!”

You spilled out into the hallway together, a clumsy tangle of arms and legs and fists. You threw a rogue punch toward his midsection. Blood was pounding in your ears.

He twisted in your grip with a roar of pain and frustration, his elbow catching you square in the ribs. The impact was hard enough to knock the breath out of you, and he pushed his advantage, gripping you by the throat and throwing you against the wall. He was scrawny, but still strong. Your jaw smacked against the hard tile and you slid to the floor, winded and dazed.

“You think Dad would be ashamed of me,” he half-shouted, straightening his jacket. “Look at you, fucking psycho dyke.”

He was almost unrecognizable in that moment, towering over you with a hateful sneer on his face. He stepped closer and you scrambled backwards, unsure what he intended to do. Luckily, you never found out.

At that moment, a baseball bat swung through the air, missing Mikey’s face by inches.

“Touch her again and I’ll break your kneecaps.”

>> Read the rest of this chapter right now on my Patreon! <<

[mrderofcr0ws]

HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter soldier was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter soldier who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr. (roughly edited)

<- previous part

PART SIX —

— A STRANGER & AN UNEXPECTED SMILE

you were back in chains and a muzzle.

the difference this time was that you asked for them.

nick pushed you down the long, bright hallways with no windows in a wheelchair. you were underground where no sunlight could reach you. the handcuffs covered both your fists entirely, a fairly heavy metal block on your lap. the muzzle was only your mask.

you feared you’d kill him before he could explain it all.

“are you sure you want to do this?” nick asked as you rounded the corner. he stopped at the first door and looked down at you.

“i’ve waited forty years for this,” you said looking up at him. “i’m sure.”

“well,” nick said, giving you a once over. “you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“i think im closer to twenty-eight, actually.” you said.

he smiled at you and even though your mask covered it, you smiled, too.

how quickly it faded away…

the lights in the room were off except for a lamp on the bedside table. the warm orange light shined across half of him. with his chest wrapped in bandages, he was looking about as bad as you. he struggled to sit up and you savored the sound of his labored, tight breaths.

“i will be right here.” nick said, taking a seat in the corner of the room. he waved his hand towards the two of you. “but pretend im not.”

the silence in the room was suffocating.

facing him now, you were so tongue tied that it was impossible to pick what you wanted to say first. you were so angry— so devastated that it made you tremble.

“there is nothing i can say to ease your pain,” nikta began. he spoke in russian and his voice was small in his throat for a man who you had always known to be larger than life. “i feel as though it would be more of an insult to try and apologize to you for it.”

“i’m not here for an apology because that would require me having to forgive you— and i will never do that.” you spat. your mask covered most of your face but disgust was visible in your eyes.

“fair enough.” nikta said.

“fair enough…” you muttered under your breath. you could feel your blood begin to boil. “you have the nerve to say ‘fair enough’?”

“i didn’t mean to cause offense. i only meant i understand.” he said with a small tip of his head. “new slang is always the hardest for you two to keep up with, isn’t it?”

you uncurled your hands from within the heavy box cuffs around them. you could feel how sweaty they had become. you felt hot and cold all at once. sad and mad. brazen and cowardice.

“why did you shoot at him?” you asked softly. that was as good a place to start as any.

“why wouldn’t i have tried to shoot him? if i hadn’t, he would have shot on nick and if he did that, this whole thing never would have happened.” nikta said, gesturing between the two of you.

“karov is dead.” you told him. you wondered if it would hurt him at all.

it did not.

“good,” nikta said with a low scoff. “i will not sit here and pretend that i am a saint, fangs, but i have a better chance of seeing any kind of heaven before he does.”

“don’t call me that.” you said though your teeth.

he held up his hands in surrender.

“why did you do it?”

the question was hard to ask— and it was hard to hear. nikita’s face pinched and you did your best from keeping yourself from crying. you bit your lips hard in order not to feel them tremble.

“why me?” you asked when he said nothing. “why did you do this to me? why did you choose me?”

“i had a mission. simple as that. i was charged with finding a suitable candidate for weapon-v.” nikta said outright with little patience. “you weren’t the first girl that i studied from afar. you were the fifth.”

your stomach twisted and you fought to swallow. “what happened to the those girls?”

nikta sighed reluctantly, “i killed them.”

“why didn’t you kill me?” you asked in a whisper.

“you bit me. many, many times. you were the only one that bit me and that is what set you apart.” nikta said with a shrug.

“i bit you because you raped me.” it was hard to say the word. saying it made it feel real and you didn’t want it to be real. “was that what you did to the other girls, too?”

nikta shook his head, “you won’t like my answer. ask a different question.”

“i want to know.” you insisted, your bows pinching tight together.

“what i did to you in that field was wrong and it is something i can never apologize for, but the reason i did what i did was in the hope that if anyone else were to touch you once i brought you to hydra, that you would have been prepared for it.”

“you were the only girl i did that to, isla, and i really am sorry for it.” nikta said softly.

“don’t say her name.” you whispered, glaring at him with tears brimming on your lashes. “you don’t get to say her name. you killed her.”

nikta said nothing.

your blood burned like acid in your veins. you didn’t want him to apologize. it only made it worse. his answers only made it all worse— but you wanted the truth no matter how much it hurt.

“tell me about project winter solstice.” you said.

nikta took a long, deep breath. you could see the thoughts running through his mind.

for the first time, he looked utterly human.

and you hated it.

“twenty five years ago, doctor armin zola proposed the idea of breeding you and the winter soldier to see what the outcome would be. would you have super children? would those children inherit the powers and enhancements given to you and the soldier? would they be born ready to follow orders?”

“when i was told about the idea, i could see how much evil had infected each and everyone of us. i contacted shield and sent the project file to them in the hopes that something could be done to stop it.”

“it was too hard to find a way to get the two of you out, so i did what i could to limit the strain the project would place upon the two of you.” nikta closed his eyes and grimaced at what he saw when he did.

“the plan was to hardwire you and the soldier with a new set of trigger words that, when said, would ensure that you two procreated. almost like a compulsion. there were talks of creating a sex pollen. talks of trying to induce a heat cycle into human nature that mimicked animals in the wild.”

“i argued against those idea and i told the board that if this was going to work and work well for us, that the best way would be for it to happen naturally between the two of you. it was no secret to anyone that you and the winter soldier shared a bed. how could you not? two caged animals, what else did you do pass the time?”

“for some reason, some sliver of a miracle, the board sided with my idea— but not entirely.” nikta said. he opened his eyes and frowned at you. “the board agreed with zola that you could not know these things were happening. if you knew that you were pregnant and laboring babies, you wouldn’t be able to do your job.”

“you got pregnant in 1961 for the first time three years after project winter solstice began. you then got pregnant again in 1963. and the last time was in 1966. in the beginning, they kept you sedated. groggy. once you began showing, in order to not distress the winter soldier, they put you somewhere by yourself. and in order not to distress you when you finally realized your belly was round and heavy, they put you to sleep. they put you into a coma, fed you through tubes, and let the babies come to full term within you while you were sleeping.”

“zola would wake you up once it was time to deliver and he took the babies away right after. the doctors would clean you up and then they would attempt to wipe your mind of any lingering evidence that you had been pregnant at all. they would keep you heavily sedated until your body healed and then they would freeze you for a couple years in order to prolong the gaps in your memory.”

even when you heard it outright, it was almost entirely impossible to believe.

it didn’t feel real.

“and…and what would he be doing? where would winter be?” you asked in a whisper.

“what he always does,” nikta said with a small shake of his head. “they sent him out to kill.”

“your absence disturbed him but it was for the best that neither of you saw much of each other during those times. they put you to sleep and they would break into his mind anytime he tried to look for you.”

“did he know?” you asked. your hands were shaking and it was hard to draw breath in your mask. “did winter ever know that i was pregnant?”

“i cannot say for sure. he is not my project and i do not fully understand how it is he works— but my personal belief is yes. with how well in tune the two of you are, i believe he knows but i don’t know if he understands completely what it means. zola and the doctors messed with his mind during those times, too. real bad.”

you said nothing.

you had no idea what to say.

more than ever before, you wanted to see him.

you wanted to sit on the floor of your cell and talk to him in whispers that no one else would hear.

“you said 1966 was the last time i was…pregnant.” you struggled to say the word. it felt foreign on your tongue. “its 1983. that’s seventeen years. why have there been no more children?”

you didn’t want more children.

you were glad to hear it was a small enough number.

but it made you uneasy to do the math and see such a large number of years had passed with no child born.

“winter solstice was put to a stand still in 1966 when the last child you had was stolen from the facility.” nikta said.

“with such a breech in security and a rat on the inside, zola and the head of directors agreed to put a pin in the project. you’ve been on birth control for the last seventeen years that they inject you with each time you wake up.” he explained.

panic shot through you like lightning. “where is the child now? who took it?”

nikta smiled at you and it made you recoil.

“i took the baby,” nikta said softly. he had the guiltiest look on his face and shook his head, recalling the memory as if he could picture holding the small baby right now. “you labored a girl and i…i couldn’t stomach it any longer. when zola handed me the baby, i knew i needed to get her out. i knew i needed to put a stop to this and get both you and james barnes out.”

“you— you took the baby?” you asked, shaking your head. you closed your eyes and tried to pull your hands free from the cuffs. you wanted to chew on your nails. you wanted to scratch at your face and pull at your hair. “you took…you took her? what did you do to her? where…where is the baby now?” you asked, tears slipping down your face.

of all people in the world, he was the last person you would’ve ever trusted with someone as precious as a baby.

a baby that had come from you of all things.

“i sent her to shield and shield sent her to family.” nikta said. he looked over at nick. “isn’t that right? the girl is safe, isn’t she?”

“family?” you repeated the word in english. you looked over at nick and shook your head at the two of them. “what family?”

nick sighed as he stood up. he looked over at nikta and said, “you tell her about the boys. i have a call to make.”

fear unlike anything you had ever known rushed through you like hot water— but nick placed his hand on your shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.

you swallowed down your worry.

once he left, nikta struggled to reach something on the table by his bedside. you craned your neck to see as he opened up a set of folders.

“it’s called project empire,” nikta said as he forced himself to get up. “and its goal is to create the most cutthroat and lethal generals hydra has ever seen.”

he grunted as he walked across the room to take the chair nick had been sitting on. he pulled it up beside you and you tensed as he neared. he opened the folder and held it out for you to see.

inside you saw pictures of two boys— two men.

two nearly grown men.

your brows drew together and you looked up at nikta.

he frowned at you and introduced you to the two men that were blood of your blood and bone of your bone. “their names are aurelius and caracalla. they are named after roman emperors to instill the idea that they are burdened with divine righteousness to any and all who hear their names.”

“aurelius is your eldest. caracalla is your second.” nikta said, pointing each one of them out.

it was impossible to understand.

the pictures of them made it harder to accept— to believe.

they weren’t babies.

they weren’t toddlers.

when you had been told you labored babies, that is what you pictured. you pictured drool-stains and spit up. you pictured ceaseless crying and trembling little lips. you pictured snot-nosed toddlers with sticky hands and infectious laughter that would’ve made even the stoic winter soldier smile…

these were men.

grown men.

“how old are they?” you asked in a whisper.

“aurelius is twenty-two. caracalla just turned twenty.” nikta told you gently. “they’ve never been in cryo. they’ve aged each year of their lives and have lived floors below you and the winter soldier since the day they were born.”

you looked at the pictures of those men and you wanted them to mean nothing. you wanted them to be nothing but faces in pictures and names written in ink on a page.

but you could see him.

you could see winter in their faces.

aurelius could’ve been his carbon copy. even though the photo of him was black and white, you could see his light, beautiful eyes— eyes that he had inherited from no one other than his father.

he looked just like bucky.

you wanted to reach out and touch the photo of caracalla. it made your eyes well with tears. he looked like his father, too, but you knew those stubborn brows. they were the same ones that pinched and raised on your own face.

it was easy to see the resemblance.

but it was hard to believe they were real.

“how recent are these pictures?” you asked. you looked up at nikta.

“fairly recent.” he said softly. “i brought them with me when we left siberia so you could see for yourself what they look like.”

your hands ached to hold those photos of them even though you had no desire to in your chest.

“are they like us?” you asked. you bit your lip under your mask and took a slow deep breath. “did hydra achieve what they wished to with them?”

“they have super soldier DNA, yes, but none of your enhancements carried on to any of them. except for caracalla, i believe. it’s speculated that he has a strong sense of smell like you and can see farther than most.” nikta said. he glanced at you. “if it makes you feel better, they’ve never been put under any surgeries and have no modifications.”

that did make you feel better.

to know the two of them were untouched by scalpels and kept from the pain of mutilation, it relieved you.

“have they been dispatched?” you asked.

“numerous times. aurelius has eighteen confirmed kills. his weapon of choice is a sniper. some apples don’t fall far from their trees, it seems.” nikta said. he looked down at the photo of caracalla and tipped his head. “caracalla has seven confirmed kills but he is…he is so unimaginably smart. truthfully, he surpasses any set expectation for a lab rat like him who has been in captivity his whole life.”

“don’t call him that.” you said. you frowned underneath your mask as a sadness washed over you. “he’s not a lab rat.”

nikta smiled sympathetically. “you are all lab rats.”

you said nothing.

it filled you with guilt to see the boys in those pictures. you had too many questions you didn’t know how to ask.

“do they know each other?” you asked softly. you hoped they weren’t alone.

“yes,” nikta said with a small smile. “they know that they are brothers and they’re quite the sarcastic duo.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “sarcastic?”

“unbelievably so.” nikta nodded.

“do they know who winter and i are?” you asked.

nikta seemed to hesitate. “caracalla…he figured it out when he was younger. he’s a cyber wizard that kid and when the guards weren’t paying attention to him on the computers, he got into the classified files and read everything on the two of you. photographic memory. he can remember anything he sees. it’s truly remarkable. he told aurelius but aurelius refuses to accept the truth.”

all you could manage was a nod.

“have they ever seen us?” you asked. you looked at the pictures of them in the folder and sighed. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen them before.”

“they watch the two of you spar all the time.” nikta told you softly. “they sit in the box above the arena and watch. hydra believes there is no reason for them not to. they know who you are and they know that they must be better than the best— and the best hydra has are you and the winter soldier.”

it made you feel…

you didn’t have the words.

the last time you sparred on the mat the winter had nearly choked you to death on orders from those above— and to know that those two were there… that they had watched.

it was something unexplainable.

yours boys knew you — though one was not keen on the idea of you — but you didn’t know them.

and they watched you.

perhaps one of them rooted for you.

perhaps one of them betted against you.

you tried not to care.

but feeling kept creeping in like a cold breeze. a whisper of something deeper— something truly unyielding.

the door to the room opened and nick came back in. he seemed surprised to see you and nikta sitting so close, but he said nothing. he only nodded towards the ex-hydra officer.

“your daughter’s name is clover.” nikta told you. he stood up slowly and grunted as he did. “she’s lived her whole life untouched by hydra. she’s a real sweetheart. looks just like the two of you.”

“who has been taking care of her if not you?” you asked, watching as he placed down the folders pertaining to project empire.

“that would be someone she refers to as poppy.” nick said from behind you. “and she and poppy have been waiting a real long time for us to find you.”

your brows pinched tight together and you shook your head. “she…she knows about me?”

“you and sergeant barnes, yes.” nick said with a small smile. “and she’s eager to meet you.”

you blinked. “what? meet me? meet me when?”

nick looked at his watch. “she’s already here so right now, actually.”

“i can’t— no,” you said, shaking your head over and over again. “i can’t meet her.”

“you should.” nikta said. he was back in bed, laying down with his eyes closed. “you’d regret it the whole of your life if you didn’t because she’s been waiting the whole of hers to meet you.”

“shield doesn’t like lies, miss constantinescu. we like secrets. it just so happens that people like clover are privy to those secrets— because she is one herself.”nick said as he kneeled beside you. he gave your shoulder a soft pat. “no one on either side has lied to your children about who you are. about who sergeant barnes is. that goes for this girl and those boys still locked away.”

“how do i face her when i did not know she existed until today?” you asked in a voice far too soft. guilty tears brimmed on your lashes.

nick smiled, “you face her bravely.”

— ☆ —

you didn’t know what to do with your hands.

sitting alone in a lounge with the soft hum of 40’s music playing in the background, you were sweating. free of cuffs and free of a muzzle, you sat patiently. the wound on your stomach ached— but nothing was worse than how hard your heart was racing.

you were about to reach up and pull it out your chest just to make it stop when the door opened.

her head popped into the room— and she was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life.

clover toyed with the sleeves of her cardigan as she made her way over to you with an unsure wobble in her step. she was so big but so, so young. a lanky little thing with long dark hair and eyes like yours. her cheeks were flush and she kept bringing her hand to her mouth only to put it back at her side.

all you could do was stare.

and she was trembling like a leaf.

you thought that seeing her would be like seeing a stranger. you had not known that she existed until today. you had not a single memory of her. you’d say hello and then say goodbye, remaining a pair of strangers who shared the same blood. the same eyes.

you thought it would be nothing.

she was a stranger.

she was your baby.

and some deep, untapped damn of love burst at the sight of her chewing on her nails in front of you.

you forced yourself to your feet despite the way your wound screamed and you took her into your arms. she clung to you instantly, her fingers digging into your shoulders, grasping the fabric of your shirt. the sound of her cries brought tears to your own eyes that you could not have fought away even if you wanted to.

once she was in your arms, it all came pouring out.

you covered her in kisses. the whole of her face. her forehead. her cheeks. her chin. her nose. you couldn’t get enough of her. it was like being high— and the sound of her laughter was unlike anything in the world had ever been before.

you cupped her face in your hands and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. “look at how beautiful you are.”

“i’ve seen so many pictures of you,” she whispered, her lips trembling. she brought her hands up to her mouth and tried to hide it. she had the warmest voice you’d ever heard. “you— you’re really tall.”

“me? tall? you’re much taller than i thought you’d be. you’re a little bean sprout!” you said with a wide-eyed expression. she was nearly to the tip of your chin.

“i can see where i get it from.” she said with a giggle that sounded so much like yours.

you smiled wider than you had ever smiled before.

a small beat of silence fell over the two of you and it made your heart lurch. the last thing you wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable— to scare her. it felt like walking on glass. like you needed to be the most careful you had ever been.

you sat down with her and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her.

“so,” you said, rubbing your hands on your lap. “how are you?”

“oh,” clover said with an awkward smile. she toyed with the sleeves of her cardigan and nodded once. twice. “i’m— yeah, i’m good. i’m studying right now for my midterms.”

“oh,” your brows drew together. what the hell was her midterms? “wow. that’s— yeah. good job! work hard at that so you can…succeed.”

“it’s a test,” she whispered with a small, nervous laugh. “a big test. i’m trying really hard to get into a good college so i need my grades to be good.”

“smart, are you?” you asked.

she shrugged. “a little, yeah.”

silence fell over the both of you again and you chewed on your lip. you tried so hard to think of anything to say but you didn’t know how to speak to someone who was not him—and it didn’t help that you were from a different time. you still had very little idea of what the world was like today.

“listen,” you said as you scooted the smallest bit closer. “i’m…i’m sorry. i know this is…it’s not…it’s really hard and i’m sorry.”

her lips trembled and her eyes welled with tears she refused to let fall. shaking her head, she tried to assure you it was okay. she reached for your hand but she stopped herself.

you took ahold of her hands and brought them to your lips, kissing them softly.

“i’m just so happy to see you.” she whispered. she squeezed your hands and leaned towards you as if there was some tangled string pulling you together. “i’ve wanted to meet you for so long…”

“i’m sorry,” you murmured into her hair, wrapping your arms around her. you kissed the top of her head. “i am truly, truly sorry.”

“you’re here now,” clover said softly. with her head resting on your chest, she could hear the thrum of your heart— a sound she had once been so familiar with. “you’re here right now and that’s all that matters to me.”

you were changed.

down to the marrow of your bones, you had changed in a single instant.

you held the world in your arms. you held the most valuable thing to live and breathe. you held the very thing you would kill for no matter what it took.

this is why the red room sterilized their assassins.

you would die before a hair on her head was ruffled out of place.

you knew nothing about her and yet you knew every single facet of her. you had made her. her bones. her flesh. her heart. you had. she’s was yours. apart of you— and that part could not be denied.

it was an overwhelming and unrelenting sense of love that poured and poured and poured free as you cradled her.

she was nearly grown— but she was your baby.

and you knew her.

you knew her by touch alone.

you would have been able to pick her in a crowd with your eyes closed.

she was yours.

and you learned everything about her in the time that you had together on that sofa.

she was seventeen years old. she attended a private high school where she ranked third in her class. she enjoyed solving mysteries and she played the piano. she wanted to go to college to study criminology. she had grown up under shield’s protection and she was a little agent in the making. she wanted to work as one when she got older.

knowing that made part of you nervous — you wanted her safe always — but it made you smile seeing the way her eyes lit up at the idea of being able to make the world a safer place. a better place.

“you’re a very remarkable young woman, clover.” you said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. she’d gotten those pretty little ears from him. they were unmistakably his.

she beamed with the sweetest smile you had ever seen. “i’m glad you think so. i’ve tried really hard to learn a lot so that when we met, you’d be impressed.”

your heart ached— and you couldn’t tell if it was a good feeling or a bad one.

perfectly bittersweet.

“i am throughly impressed,” you said with a soft smile. you brushed your fingers along her cheek and met her eyes. “i wish i had more to say and i wish i could understand what the heck a skateboard really is and how you travel on it, but you amaze me. you are…you are truly the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time and i wish that we had more time.”

clover smiled anxiously at you. at the idea that this would all go away so soon. “we have so much time. we have — like — all the time ever in the world now.” she was trying to convince you, to cling to you as tight as you wanted to cling to her. “you don’t ever have to go back to that place. you can stay with me.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you are such a sweet little thing but i don’t think that your guardian would take kindly to someone like me living under their roof and eating all their food.”

it was the best you could come up with to let her down easy— but it broke your heart.

“did they not tell you?” clover asked. she smiled at you and let out a soft laugh. “oh, gosh, you’re in for a real shocker with this one, mama.”

mama.

it felt like lightening in your veins to hear that name.

a rush you’d never imagined possible.

a name you’d never thought you’d be called.

a small, teeny tiny part of you hoped she’d said it again and again and again.

“well, go on then.” you said with a small flick of your head. “deliver the news.”

“i live here in new york with auntie becca and uncle dimitri!” clover said, throwing up her hands like it was some big surprise.

you smiled because she did but those names meant nothing. “oh!” you blinked at her for a moment and tried your best to nod. “and…auntie is…?”

she flushed a soft shade of pink. she must’ve forgotten that you knew very little of anything at all. “auntie becca is my father’s sister and uncle dimitri is your bother, mama.”

your expression dropped.

you closed your eyes and let your head dip down. you couldn’t hold it up. you could hardly sit straight at all as your chest heaved— and the cries that escaped you were so foreign.

your brother was alive after all this time.

your daughter was surrounded by family.

and not just your family, either.

bucky’s too.

“are you okay?” clover asked softly, frowning as she watched you cry. she scooted closer and tried her best to console you.

“i am just so…” you sighed and wiped your face, unable to truly find the words. you looked at her and couldn’t help but let out a soft, broken sob. “i am so, so, so grateful to know that there is good in this world and that you live in it. that my brother still does. that his sister does.”

“you have all had each other and that just…god, sweetheart, you have no idea how happy it makes me to know.” you whispered.

clover smiled at you. you softened as she wiped off your cheeks with her sleeves. “i’m happy that you’re happy. i was really worried that you…” she stopped.

“that i what?” you asked.

“i was worried that you wouldn’t like me very much…” clover admitted in a voice almost too soft to hear.

your heart shattered.

“oh, my gosh,” you cried. you cupped her face in your hands and shook your head as tears rushed down your cheeks. “never, baby. not ever. are you kidding me? you are— you…oh, my love.” you kissed her face and clutched her close to you, embracing her as she nuzzled into the warmth of you and wept softly.

“you are my baby,” you whispered into the roots of her hair. “you are mine and nothing in this world could take that away. they tried and they failed because you are mine, sweet girl. and i could never feel anything for you but love.”

clover wept like a baby. red-faced and inconsolable. making a mess of your shirt and sniffling as she cried.

this is what you pictured.

and no matter how old she was now or how old she grew to be, she was still your baby.

— ☆ —

it had been a week of laughter, tears, and everything in between as you spent time recovering from the gunshot wound. it was a harder injury to heal from that you wished it to be, but you could stand on your own without feeling like you were wounding yourself all over again. it would be a long time until you could run and jump and bend over with ease— but you didn’t care.

the only thing that you cared about when the sun was up was her.

clover would come visit you every day once she got out of school. sometimes she would come by herself and other times she brought her uncle with her.

your brother was an old man.

he was not the dark haired boy you could recall bits and pieces of anymore. he was old and grey and wrinkly. being in his 60’s, your little brother was no so little anymore— and seeing dimitri again was as hard as meeting yourself again for the first time.

it was slow coming and hazy until it wasn’t— until you were recalling things you couldn’t imagine you’d forgotten at all.

rebecca barnes passed on her well wishes through your daughter but she did not come to visit you. she couldn’t. it was too hard for her and you understood why.

for the first time in 40 years, you felt human.

you felt alive.

you felt happy.

but each night was hard.

alone in your room with no one but yourself, it was war. you had never been so happy and yet you cried and cried and cried because it all felt incomplete.

he was not with you.

the boys were not with you.

and you couldn’t be truly at peace until they were.

but you didn’t know how to be alone with yourself and in order for you to heal — in order for you to take your next steps forward — you needed to at least learn how to do that.

“i don’t know,” nick said with a hesitant shake of his head. “i don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it is,” you said. you frowned at him. “it’s safest for everyone this way. they won’t know where i am and i will be alone for the first time in my second life— and that’s a good thing.”

nick turned his head away.

he’d never admit it but he had grown fond of you.

and now you were shipping yourself away.

clover didn’t find it easy to understand. she cried when you told her and it made it all so much harder than you ever could’ve imagined it being.

“i just got you, mama. you can’t go.” she sobbed.

“it’s not forever.” you said as you wiped her tears away. “i just…i need a little time to get everything sorted up here.” you tapped your temple and tried to smile at her.

“promise me that you’ll come back.” clover said, sticking out her pinky.

you weren’t very sure what to do with that.

you held out yours, too, and you softened as she linked your pinkies together.

a promise.

a pinky promise— and you’d never break something as cute as that.

“i promise.” you whispered.

she hugged you and you savored each and every second she clung to you. you kissed the top of her head over and over and memorized the way she smelled. you burned the image of her smile into your memory. each line and angle on her face. her ears. her long dark hair.

and that sweet little laugh.

you really did love her.

you just didn’t know how to say those three words the right way.

so you didn’t.

it was something you regretted when she left— but the next time you saw her, it would be the start of something new.

you would never leave her side again because you had made your decision.

you would join shield.

one day.

for now, you would be sent somewhere hydra could never touch you and get help from professionals to rebuild what was broken inside you. you were going somewhere you could be alone to grieve, to cry, to remember, and to restart.

“i’ll miss you.” you said from where you sat strapped in handcuffs in the back of the heavy armored truck.

nick rolled his eyes at you, hanging on the door as he watched the last of the agents assigned to escort you to the ocean prison get into the truck.

“you be easy, isla.” nick said with a small smile.

you smiled back at him. “keep an eye on my kid?”

nick tapped his sunglasses where his good eye was and tipped his head. “i always do.”

when he shut the door, it didn’t feel like a sentencing.

it didn’t feel like you were trapped.

it didn’t feel like you were damned any longer.

the handcuffs were precautionary. a safety measure for you and others. you did not resent them. you did not resent any of what was to come because you had made the choice yourself.

you wanted a life.

a real one with laughter and lazy sundays.

you wanted to grow up and watch your daughter grow up, too.

and maybe one day when the wounds faded into scars, you’d find the courage and strength to find yours boys and free them, too.

all three of them.

— ☆ —

the trucks movements and the small amount of pain medicine given to you lulled you little by little as the minutes turned into hours. you rested your head back against the metal wall and let your eyes fall closed.

how could you ever be bored again when there was so much to think about?

you thought about your daughter.

you thought about the work it would take to be whole and how you were ready to face each obstacle in your way in order to be.

you thought about your brother.

you thought about where you would live with clover once you could— if she’d like that.

and you smiled to yourself because you knew that she would.

thundered rumbled from above but it wasn’t raining.

you opened your eyes and looked up.

the roof came down.

the muted buzz of bullets spraying through the silencer of his gun and the hard, gruesome sound of them hitting their targets filled the truck— and so did the smell of blood.

you looked up in horror as he stood before you, his metal arm gleaming in the spotlight that the hole in the roof of the truck had created.

“miss me?”

hello, friends. i hope you all enjoyed this update of headlock! it was a shorter one than the last because the previous one was so long. besides, it’s main goal was to sort of cover the lore of the reader and bucky’s kids— which i hope everyone is vibing with. (i really love it and i have so much planned). also, i’d like to make it clear that you are all entitled to imagine aurelius and caracalla in whatever way you want. i chose two actors who i think resemble sebastian stan to hit closer to home, but you can fancast them as whoever you’d like! i left clover’s fc blank for you all as of right now because she’s supposed to look like isla and isla is your character :3

maybe one day i’ll post my personal fc of her but for now, it is your turn to play pretend and be the casting director of your dreams!!!

see you guys in the next update.

taglist: @homiesexual-or-homosexual @carbonnite-copy @strangunddurm @normanreedus-blog @valckenaux @buckyswife106 @itsmadamehydra

[bitchinbarzal]

Stay | Just Fine Au

Kaia doesn’t get a chance to respond.

Because before she can, Elodie stirs on the couch, her tiny face scrunching up as she blinks awake.

“Daddy?”

Clayton is beside her in an instant “Hey, baby” His voice is soft, careful, but the way his fingers tremble as they brush over her curls gives him away “I’m right here”

Elodie sniffles, shifting slightly against the pillow “Kaia too?”

“I’m here, sweetheart” Kaia says gently, reaching for her hand. Elodie squeezes her fingers weakly, and Kaia can feel the exhaustion radiating off her tiny frame.

For a moment, the three of them just sit there, pressed together in the small space of Kaia’s couch, and the world outside feels miles away.

Then, Elodie’s little voice breaks the silence.

“I don’t like her” she mumbles, her uninjured arm curling against her chest.

Clayton frowns “Who, baby?”

Elodie’s lower lip wobbles “Maddy.”

Kaia’s stomach tightens.

Clayton shifts, his jaw clenching “Why not?”

Elodie blinks up at him, looking so small under the weight of what happened “She was mean, Daddy. She said it was all my fault” Her little voice wobbles “I was crying, and she yells”

Clayton’s entire body goes rigid.

Kaia sees it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to break something.

“She yelled at you?” His voice is low, controlled, but Kaia knows him too well. Knows he’s barely holding it together.

Elodie nods, rubbing at her tired eyes “She said I wasn’t listening. But I—I just tripped I promise” A tear slips down her cheek, and Kaia immediately reaches out, wiping it away.

“Oh, baby” Kaia murmurs, pulling her close “It wasn’t your fault. Not even a little bit”

Elodie hiccups, burying her face in Kaia’s shirt “I want to stay with you”

Kaia’s heart shatters.

She looks up at Clayton, expecting him to look gutted, but instead, he just looks furious. His hands are clenched into fists, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating rage.

But when he speaks, his voice is gentle.

“You don’t have to see her again, El” he promises, brushing a hand over her curls “I swear.”

Elodie sniffles, nodding against Kaia’s chest.

Kaia presses a kiss to the top of her head, whispering, “You’re safe, baby.”

And she means it.

She’ll make sure of it.

The next few weeks are off.

Not in a way that feels explosive. There are no fights, no raised voices, no words they can’t take back.

It’s just careful.

Too careful.

Clayton is always around now. Picking Elodie up, dropping her off. Sometimes, just sitting on Kaia’s couch while Elodie naps. It feels familiar, like something they lost—but at the same time, it’s different.

It’s cautious.

Like they’re both afraid to break whatever fragile thing has settled between them.

But then, there are moments that make Kaia’s chest ache.

Like the night Elodie wakes up crying from a bad dream, and Clayton calls Kaia instead of handling it alone.

Like the way Clayton always lingers in her doorway a second too long, like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

Like the way their fingers brush when he hands her a plate after dinner, and instead of pulling away, they both pause.

Like the way Elodie still reaches for her when she’s upset.

Like the way Kaia is starting to realize she’ll never not be part of this.

And then, one night, when Clayton is sitting on the floor with Elodie, helping her decorate her cast with stickers, Kaia blurts out the question that’s been eating at her for weeks.

“What does this mean?”

Clayton looks up, blinking like he wasn’t expecting her to say it out loud “What?”

Kaia folds her arms, suddenly too aware of how much space there isn’t between them “You. Me. This. What does it mean?”

Clayton exhales slowly, setting down a sheet of stickers before standing up. He looks at her, something serious in his expression “I don’t know”

Kaia clenches her jaw “That’s not an answer”

Clayton’s gaze flickers to Elodie, who’s too focused on her cast to be listening. He takes a slow step closer “I just know that I don’t want to do this without you”

Kaia swallows hard.

Because damn him—that’s the one thing he could’ve said that would’ve stopped her in her tracks.

“Kaia” he murmurs, reaching out, brushing his fingers against hers “I meant what I said.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head, pulling her hand away “You also said you didn’t need me, Clay.”

His face tightens, regret flickering across his expression “I know”

Silence stretches between them.

Then, “Kaia?”

They both turn to see Elodie looking up at them, her tired little eyes blinking between them “Can you stay?”

Kaia softens.

She glances at Clayton, who nods, something unreadable in his expression.

Then, she turns back to Elodie and smiles “Yeah, baby,” she whispers “I’ll stay.”

And for now, that’s all she can promise.

[chaosduckies]

Friends in Small Places (6)

Long story short: hit a writing block, had trouble editing, school, but we're so back and I'm excited to write all of the ideas that I've been thinking about for forever! (and thank you to the people who gave me so many ideas for future chapters and scenes) Oh man I love writing size shifter stories. So anyways I hope you enjoy this very short chapter!

Word count: 2.5k

CW: None!

It was safe to say that things were slowly getting back to normal. Things weren’t as chaotic anymore. I was allowed to keep on seeing Cas, and I did every day after my classes. He seemed to like the company even if we never really did anything. 

I was still working on getting permission to at least let him see his parents. It wasn’t exactly going so well if I were being honest. Anytime I mentioned it they said that the idea was absurd. I tried asking several of the nurses what it would take to get his parents or someone he knows down here... They said that as long as he was still unstable then he wasn’t allowed to see anyone. But I didn’t understand. Cas seemed perfectly fine. That entire situation two weeks ago was a big thing but he’s doing so much better now! If anything he’s somehow even more cautious about his movements. I don’t understand why they don’t just let him have one nice thing. 

Even if Cas wasn’t able to have any other visitors besides me and a few nurses and doctors, I managed to get them to agree to another therapist coming in for a few days. Ryan had asked me tons of questions about what was going on, and I had to answer all of them. Of course, being the great friend that he is, he offered to help out by trying to get Cas either out of there or get his brother to come. Either one would be great, and since he’s older and more experienced they might listen to him more than me. 

After classes, Ryan said he had to go check up on his partner before we left.  I asked why he didn’t have to stay with her all the time, and he just explained that she was doing so much better under his care that they were already about to get him a new “patient”. If I were being honest I envied him. He was so much better at this than I was, and he gets along with pretty much everyone. I wondered why I couldn’t, but that was an obvious answer.

I hadn’t expected any of this to happen while watching over Cas. I mean I thought I was doing a good job up until the incident, but to be fair there wasn’t much I could do in that situation other than just try and calm him down after they lied to him. I would be upset if I wasn’t allowed to see my parents anymore and they kept me pretty much isolated for the entirety of my life. Who wouldn’t be? Cas has apologized more times than I count for “making things harder” for me. One it wasn’t his fault, and two, he’s so careful and gentle there was no way he’d make things harder for me. Of course, initially, I had thought it would be impossible to even do something like this, but I’m learning a lot about this broken world we live in.

Ryan came back a few minutes later, ecstatic as always. Of course he wasn’t scared. Why would he be? He was a shifter too. Hopefully the two will get along, I already told Cas that I might be bringing a friend sometime this week, so there weren’t any huge surprises. I just had to hang onto hope that nothing bad would happen. 

“You said he’s really anxious a lot of the time right?” He asked me as we walked along the sidewalk to the huge hospital building. 

“Yeah, it’s mostly him worrying about hurting me, or really anyone in the room with him.” He nodded his head, seemingly excited about this. It was almost like he had a plan. Maybe the same thing he did with his partner? Well.. maybe a little different since his partner shrinks. Meanwhile, mine is a literal skyscraper. 

  The awkward silence stretched on between us, but that was quickly put an end to, “Hey Liam, about that incident, you said that no one tried helping him at first? Just straight lockdown?” Ryan looked a little uneasy, but I had to nod my head. I had wondered why he asked the question, but I wasn’t going to question him. But it was a little strange why he was so troubled. For as long as I’ve known him he was the kind of person that hasn’t been afraid, so it was making me worry a little. What was he scared of? 

“Ah well, I’m glad to at least help! I can’t wait to meet him either.” The nervous look on his face disappeared almost as fast as it came. Another reason why I was jealous of him. It’s like he could just brush off any inconvenience, any tiny little negative thought he’s ever had in just an instant. Though, I guess that’s what makes him such an amazing friend. 

“Yeah, he’s extremely nice. Fun to be around.” I smiled. I wasn’t lying either. He was the nicest person I’ve met, and that’s saying something. After a while, you get used to being around someone who’s much bigger than you, and then you realize they’re more scared of themselves than you are of them… I took a deep breath, finally making it onto the ground of the hospital. 

Ryan has never been here before, so I had to help him get through checking in, and of course any new people that aren’t related to or working with Cas have to do a deep and thorough search for whatever reason. Ryan kept on joking about all of the safety measures he had to go through, even making him take off his hoodie. Seriously, what were they even looking for? I didn’t have to go through as many of the checks since I come every day and actually have a connection with Cas. 

After about ten minutes of finally getting Ryan to be able to come in the room with me, we were finally walking down the huge hallway as the nurse led us. We reached the door, the nurse opened it and gave us both a smile. Well, here's to hoping Cas isn’t too spooked by Ryan. I mean I did warn him. 

I walked in front of Ryan, slowly walking in, and seeing Cas finish one of the books that were on the bookshelf. When the door slammed behind us, he looked up and lightly smiled, eyes trailing behind me and I could tell that his nerves shot up almost immediately. Especially when he fumbled while trying to place his book on the ground, instead landing with a loud thud. It made my anxiousness get the better of me before I brushed it off and stopped in front of them. 

“Uh, remember when I told you that I’d be bringing a friend here? Well, this is Ryan.” I introduced them, watching Ryan confidently walk a little ahead of me. 

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you. Casper, right?” Cas stared, almost like he was shocked at how confident they were. 

“H-hi. You can c-call me Cas.” His eyes darted to me, as if asking what he should do, but not even I had an idea. If I were being honest I was just going to let Ryan figure these things out. Usually Cas and I just played a few board games even when the pieces were as big as I was, or watched whatever movies he was allowed, which weren’t that many. I know it doesn’t sound like much but if I were being honest it seemed to be helping a lot with his confidence. It helps me get used to it too. He still seemed a little scared to move sometimes though, even if he doesn’t admit it. 

“Well Cas, we’re gonna get you out of here once and for all!” Ryan claimed. Cas looked at me, a little shocked at the outburst but gave his best nervous smile he could manage. I didn’t know what Ryan had planned but I trusted that he would make the smart decisions. I know Cas gets a little scared of new things, especially with these new pills they have him on. Paroxetine? I could tell that it was a strong one. I guess they added whatever makes him hurt so much in it because every time he takes it I notice how he cringes at any movement he makes or how shaky his hands get. I want his pain tolerance, but I don’t want to get it like how he did. It was inhumane and didn’t even seem to be helping him control his height. 

“Uh hey, you won’t be doing anything too much right?” I whispered. 

“Yeah don’t worry I’m not gonna do much. You know me.” He smiled. I did know how he worked, and it always seemed to work no matter the person. It was kind of pathetic of me that I needed so much help, but I was doing this so Cas could have a real life instead of being cooped up in a house without being able to see his parents. I felt so bad, and if this was the one time I could do something worthwhile well then I’d do what I could. 

I walked over to Cas, sitting by him to let Ryan do his thing. I just had to watch as Ryan sat and played 20 questions, asking questions about each other. It really kind of seemed like they were getting along a lot faster than Cas and I did. Maybe that was because they could both kind of relate, and Ryan was a lot more of a people person than I was. This was a good thing though. Things would move along faster and we could get Cas out of here and able to see his family again. Now I just had to figure out how I was going to repay Ryan for helping me out. I wasn’t so confident that I would’ve been able to do this on my own, even if Cas and I were getting really close. 

At some point I think I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was getting late. I groaned, sitting up and yawning. One look around and I realized that I was still in Cas’s room, even in the same place. 

“Mmm… Cas?” I rubbed my eyes before catching his hand in the corner of my vision. I whipped my head around, seeing that he had a book in hand as usual. 

“You’re up?” He quietly whispered, his attention focused on me now. 

“Yeah. Where’d Ryan go?” I lazily stood up, searching around and not seeing him anywhere. 

“Oh uh, he left a while ago. He didn’t want to wake you up.” He laughed softly, wincing when he thought he was speaking too loudly. Guess I’d have to talk to Ryan tomorrow or something. Just to see what he thinks I should do. I trusted his judgment more than I trusted mine. 

“How’d it go? Sorry I fell asleep.” I asked, stretching a little bit and packing a few things up. I knew that the nurses would come in eventually and force me out, but I’d just like to use whatever time I had left to check up on him. 

“N-no. You’re all good,” He started, nervously smiling, “Um, he was nice. I liked him. I’m glad you’re trying to help me get out of here, but I don’t think that they’ll let me.” He sighed sadly, eyeing the cast around my leg and cringing. I looked down, sucking in a deep breath. 

“Could you help me up, please?” His eyes widened, hesitantly lowering his hand by me. I struggled to get on without moving my cast around too much but managed before holding me above his knees. I could tell he was nervous, maybe even a little scared but this wasn’t the first time I’ve been in his hands and I trusted that he wouldn’t drop me. 

“Well, I think they’ll let you out of here. They’re just being stubborn.” I shrugged my shoulders. I think it was ignorant that they wouldn’t let him out of here already. To me, he’s doing a lot better than when I first met him. 

“¿De verdad lo crees? You really think so?” His tone was sad like he was just losing hope of getting out of here at all. Well, if I just left him here alone I would’ve never lived with myself. That would just be too harsh. Plus, I like to think that we were friends. I mean, we hang out pretty much every day unless I had schoolwork to catch up on. Why would I want to leave him here alone in the first place? 

“Why wouldn’t I? Someone as nice and nervous as you shouldn’t have to be watched over.” We both laughed. 

“Nervous? What? I’m not nervous.” 

“I can literally feel your hand shaking right now.” I joked, getting a soft laugh out of him. He looked away for a moment, the silence stretching between us. 

“Liam, tha-” 

Cas went quiet whenever we heard the door slam open, a nurse walking in. For some odd reason, they just looked a little troubled with something but motioned for me to go. I sighed as Cas lowered me back down, watching carefully as I climbed down and walked towards the door, the nurse eyeing my crutches the entire way.

“See you tomorrow!” I waved bye to him, getting a tiny wave in return before the nurse closed the door behind me. She escorted me out, but instead of towards the exit, it was towards another room I’d never been to before. I was about to question her before she walked into the room, grabbing a piece of paper and sighing, a nervous look on her face. 

“I have no idea if I’m making the right decision, but don’t make me regret it.” She sighed, signing what looked to be a ton of important information, but what caught my eye was the bold print at the top. Allowance of family members. My eyes widened in shock, my heartbeat growing faster from excitement. I… did it? Was she letting him see his family? 

“This paper allows Casper to see one family member for one day. The professionals cannot know about this, but… I do believe that after hearing from you two earlier that he should be allowed this. So, here you go.” She handed me the paper and pen, with only one more place to sign to officiate that we were allowing this. I quickly grabbed the pen and signed, not even hesitating for one moment, “Thank you! I don’t know what to say!” I smiled, hugging the nurse. She sighed, hugging me back and telling me that I could go back to tell Cas. 

I was surprised that I didn’t trip on my way there out of excitement, and when I opened the door I couldn’t hold in my excitement for him. 

“Cas! How would you like to see your brother tomorrow?” I smiled, seeing the shock and surprise in his eyes, and it was priceless.  ——————

TAKE THAT WRITING BLOCK!!! Oh man I can’t wait to continue writing this. And so sorry for it being like five months since I’ve actually updated this but WE’RE BACK!!! Thanks for reading! :D

Taglist: @da3dm @smolboiremy @box-beanz

(if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist please let me know!)

[archivalofsins]

Thanks @doctorbunny for helping me find the source to answer this,

"Is it said that the staff thought Mahiru would be forgiven in trial one, or?"

Well not by the entire staff but Yamanaka and Deco themselves said they hadn't anticipated Mahiru being found guilty within the Milgram Second Anniversary Stream that was translated by Maristelina,

Yamanaka: Ahh… I don’t know about Deco-san, but in my mind I kind of had a hunch about if this person would be forgiven, or if they wouldn’t be forgiven. I was wrong about 2 people. Amami: Wow, two people? Lounsbery: Can we ask who? Yamanaka: Hmm what should I do? Maybe just one… hm, what to do? Lounsbery: We want to know at least one Yamanaka: Should I do it? What should I do… Umm Amami: Hey, tell us Yamanaka: Um… Mahiru Amami: Oh… Mahiru-chan Lounsbery: Did it surprise you? Yamanaka: Well, not surprised per se, but I pictured that she would be forgiven in the beginning. How about you Deco-san? From a composer perspective. Like did you have a feel for whether a song would lean towards being forgiven, or not forgiven?

This is also the same livestream where they assert that the prisoners cover songs are unrelated,

Deco: Mahiru. Amami: So it’s Mahiru Deco: I thought the result would be the opposite. It was unexpected. The song itself was cheerful, cute, a girl in love. Amami: The comments are saying her voice drama was scary Deco: I guess she has this something that’s seeping out of her, and that’s scaring people. Amami: I’ve been told that it’s unrelated, but I’m pretty sure her cover song is also influencing the results. Yamanaka: It’s totally unrelated. Deco: Covers of Deco*27’s songs are completely unrelated. Unrelated.

So, neither Yamanaka or Deco expected Mahiru to be found guilty trial one but they also didn't anticipate one other prisoner getting the verdict they received trial one. Yamanaka and Deco noted this in regards to Milgram,

Deco: We’ll talk more about the second trial later, but I just want to say that it’s so fun to produce contents for Milgram. We receive votes from everyone who’s sending us comments right now, and we come up with new ideas based on those votes. Milgram isn’t only made by the people sitting here, but also by the viewers. I felt it’s a very fresh take, and I had a lot of fun Yamanaka: We can’t prepare the screenplay or music beforehand. It really feels like a free-style rap based on the answers we get from everyone. Amami: True true Deco: It’s a lot of hard work Yamanaka: Like if that’s how you’re gonna come at us, then we’ll add these factors in. I have that side to me and I’m sure Deco-san does too, like adding new information or setting. That’s also a part of the fun over the last two years.

Milgram has been very reactionary in hindsight. It's kind of funny to look back on this livestream now,

Lounsbery: I really think writing scenarios is a difficult job. Plus people speculate and write their own theories on how things are going to turn out. Do you ever feel like you never want to make those theories come true? Yamanaka: Yup. The story progression has already been decided though. Lounsbery: Of course Yamanaka: It’s already been decided, and most of the time I already have a feel for how people are going to guess, and what kind of speculation will be born. But there are times when I see something that comes from a completely different angle, and I feel tempted to direct the story that way because it’s so interesting. That’s how diverse the minds of our audience are from all walks of life and various parts of the world, and I feel great value in our contents.

There were also more discussions on the prisoners verdicts some highlights to me are,

Yamanaka: Arthur-sensei, what was your view on Milgram? Yamanaka: Arthur-sensei, what was your view on Milgram? Lounsbery: I think it comes down to, “Ah, so this person is forgiven while this person isn’t?” I had a lot of thoughts about that. We can see the changes in the votes in real time, so I wondered at what point did people have changes of heart. At first you can have this person with majority votes, but before you realize, the other person has more votes. I’m guessing that’s due to everyone changing their minds as the speculations are updated. I want to peek into the thoughts of everyone who follows the websites that post speculations and theories. Like why did they decide they could no longer forgive certain issues.

"It’s ok for everyone else but not for me."

Yamanaka: But was there anything that turned out differently than you expected? Deco: Kotoko has a scene in her MV that shows her clearly beating someone, yet she was the most forgiven character, and that was unexpected for me. Like, why?

24/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Mu: You know, I think this is all your fault really. Everyone’s on edge because you lashed out. And because of that, nobody’s paying attention to me any more. It’s kinda boring. I don’t get it. Kotoko: ……you went out of you way to say that to my face? Aren’t you scared of me? The next target of my fangs might be you. Mu: Why? Kotoko-san, aren’t you punishing the bad guys? I didn’t do anything wrong. And anyway, fufu, you’re talking like you’re fine too. Aren’t you gonna be not forgiven too this time? What will you do then?Start biting yourself? Fufu, that’s hilarious. I want to watch. Kotoko: ……you’re good at provoking people. I’ll pray that you won’t be forgiven this time. When that time comes, I’ll be sure to crush you.

"But, I must say, the current situation within this prison is directly influenced by the fact that she was once found “innocent”."

Yamanaka: Like Deco-san mentioned earlier, instead of those with blatant depictions like Haruka and Kotoko, those without any depictions, like Mahiru, are less likely to be forgiven. It’s interesting how people approach Milgram

"What I saw was... Just you having fun."

I'm sure you were in love. Your feelings of bliss were conveyed to me as well. "Right? It was really fun- Did it make you want to fall in love?" No clue about that one. "Heh, you're so cold~. So, how... does that correlate to me not being forgiven?"

It was so unexpected that there's an error in the second trial commencement notice that literally contradicts itself by saying,

"Your judgment was “guilty”, and as such, her ideas were affirmed. Because she was found “guilty”, she’s lost the raison d’etre of her own existence."

So yeah those are all the reasons I'm pretty sure they didn't expect Mahiru to be guilty trial one.

What do you think a Trial 1 Innocent Mahiru would be like?

I know this is going to be short but if anyone wants to know what a trial one innocent Mahiru would look like they just have to look at Mu. I was discussing this in a server I'm in but there are three choices when it comes to the prisoners verdicts,

Say nothing (Don't engage. Leave them be.) Guilty/Don't Forgive (Reject, Restrict, Restrain.) Innocent/Forgive (Accept, Affirm, Allow.)

Due to the ways in which the audience choose to engage with Milgram there are a lot of possible paths that are for lack of a better term lost to us now. For instance we never got to find out what would happen if Es just shut the hell up and didn't give a judgment on certain prisoners as they were told to do by many prisoners.

I think that we will be seeing the aftermath of enabling certain characters behavior twice in a row more clearly once the commencement notice drops.

Since as we saw trial one the Innocent/Forgive verdict doesn't just give the character leniency and show mercy too them but validates if not outright states to them that the behavior that led to that predicament is okay.

We saw this with Haruka,

"It is. I felt uneasy about it this whole time… Someone as worthless as me having killed someone to gain attention, and a person who surely had more worth and more of a future than me, at that…" … "But it turns out that I did nothing wrong after all! It wasn't wrong of me to kill her! There was never anything for me to worry about…!"

Mu,

"…um… um, by the way Warden-san! I don't know about this, but…" What? "You forgave me because I'd only given the bullies their just desserts, right?" … Well… I guess so. "What was it called again… Revenge… Revenge? That means revenge is an acceptable motive, right? So if you don't forgive me this time, that'd mean that it isn't." … "Leaving behind all that stuff you said about me possibly having been a bully myself- not that any of that's true, of course!" Sure. "So, if I'd gotten payback for how my bullies treated me, then that'd count as revenge, right? And if you believe that was my only option, then don't you have to forgive me?" …uh… I'm not really sure what you're trying to say… "You see~, if you think that me bullying someone back after being bullied is the natural course of action, then wouldn't it be bad to bully me back in return?" … "But if you were like, "I won't forgive you Muu! Revenge is bad!" then wouldn't that imply that it's also bad for me to bully someone back after they bullied me?"

Mu you said it was okay for me to bully people who bullied me when you voted me innocent first trial. If you had said you didn't forgive me then you'd have said that revenge is bad. Yet, the fact is you forgave me so revenge is good so it's acceptable for me to bully people who have bullied me. You're verdict said that is the correct course of action so if you bully me now then you'll deserve exactly what happens after that right?

"If you want to betray from jealousy- You know what’s gonna happen ON YOU."/ "Is this fun for you? Tying me up, bullying me, watching me suffer. You’re just like the others, getting mad because I was lucky in life and thinking you can treat me however you want."

and Kotoko through her attacks on the prisoners.

However in the case of Yuno, Shidou, and Kazui their responses to their verdicts were treated as vague. In Shidou's case his response to his verdict wasn't really that vague. He just did what he said he'd do if he was forgiven continue what he was doing regardless of how meaningless it was.

Kotoko's attacks allowed Shidou to showcase how he hadn't changed one bit as he weighed lives against each other. Deciding who was salvageable and who was a lost cause,

It's been a while, Shidou. "Orbital floor fracture on the right." Hm? "Traumatic retinal detachment. Bruising. Lacerations. Partial fracture of the thorax." ... "This is Kajiyama-kun's present condition." Futa's...

"“Throw down”, someone’s value cannot be the same as another. “Throw down” should choose between superiority or inferiority."

23/10/24 (Shidou’s Birthday)

Mahiru: You have a family right, Shidou-san……? How does it feel, being married, having kids……? Shidou: ……yeah, it’s a wonderful thing. Children…… yeah. They really are hope for the future. When you have your own, suddenly it becomes fun growing old. Since as you grow older, you get to see them grow up. Mahiru: Ah…… how lovely. It was always my dream to become a bride. Though maybe that seems a bit out-dated. I wish it could’ve come true…… Shidou: It isn’t too late. I’m going to make sure you live. So let’s get out of here, and you make your wish come true. ……you still have so much to live for.

"You don’t even know yet, and yet... Killing, extracting, I still won’t see them again I need to be tagged as RED."

Shidou's Aesculapius

Shiina-kun's is even worse. Head lacerations. Bruising all over her body. A sprained neck. Fractured ribs. Further fracturing to the left arm. And furthermore... This may be outside my profession, but her mental health is deteriorating as well."

"So this is unpleasant, so this makes me sick- What do you mean INNOCENT"

"If this is my punishment. Now I see, this world is cruel and merciless."

"“Throw down” it’s ok, that’s enough Can’t stay away Please don’t forgive me. That’s why I want this to end."

"I’m still guilty even if the morning comes."/"No thank you, it’s none of your concern."

"[Cackling] Not dead... yeah she's definitely not dead... I finally understand the value of what I've been robbing people of."

"To keep you alive, you are still living."/ "Killing, extracting, I still won’t see them again."

"Lying, replacing with hope."/ "The correct answer, I don’t yet know, but there are lives that need safeguarding."

noun 1a : pass, safe-conduct b: convoy, escort 2a: a precautionary measure, stipulation, or device b: a technical contrivance to prevent accident safeguard verb safeguarded; safeguarding; safeguards transitive verb 1: to provide a safeguard for 2: to make safe : protect

24/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday)

Shidou: Thank you for your assistance with Shiina-kun’s treatment. It’s been a big help having you here. Both for her and for me. It’s good to know that even if something happens to me, you’ll still be around. Yuno: No way. I can’t do anything on my own. All I’m doing is helping with whatever you’re doing. It’s just like playing pretend as a nurse. Shidou: No, you’ve got a good sense for things like this. You’re quick to notice things, calm, and fearless. If you haven’t decided what you want to be in the future, maybe you should consider becoming a doctor yourself. Yuno: You think so? ……haha, stop it. I don’t want to be thinking about the future right now. And for someone like me to have other people’s lives in my hands…… that’s no laughing matter.

Honestly the audience is lucky they only managed to recreate three of the prisoners crimes. We could've gone ten for ten-

23/05/15 (Interrogation Start: Shidou and Mahiru)

Jackalope: Prisoner 05, Shidou Prisoner 06, Mahiru. The interrogations for these two will now be held. Just leave your questions in the comments here. Ask whatever you want to know. This is where you show off your skills as a prison guard. ……hmmm. These two have now totally slipped into the roles of doctor and patient huh. It probably isn’t a good time to be getting interrogated for them…… but, well, it’s the rule.

Let's give the guy in here for malpractice another patient he definitely wouldn't do the same thing again,

"“Throw down” it’s ok, that’s enough. Can’t stay away."

He definitely would not take advantage of another person having a medical emergency. He did not have a documented history of doing anything like that to other people's family. Definitely not.

"Hey, you remember what it feels like? The feeling to take away in order to give."

Shidou began focusing all his energy into recreating the dynamic of doctor and patient that led to the crimes he committed to be here in the first place.

Once again over tending to his plants until they died,

Smothering them with care the same exact way the prisoner paired with him smothered others with her affection. Showing no regard for how her feelings and the way she expressed them impacted those around her,

"My emotions are out of control, that’s inconvenient? I don’t care! Tell me, oh tell me why, won’t you just accept me?"

Somehow creating what could possibly be most the fitting end for both of these characters their interaction leading to their mutual destruction.

Though that's just what I believe happened. Hell maybe he had nothing to do with it. I have no attachment to any of these characters leaving here with a stellar reputation regardless of how they leave if at all. But what does this have to do with Mahiru being innocent trial one?

I'm building a bit of a case study on how the innocent verdicts have impacted the prisoners in order to attempt t to deduce what trial one innocent would look like for Mahiru.

Given the hints from Mahiru's first voice drama and the focus on reciprocity. I've stated in that same server that she would have more than likely become more open about her behavior in order to reciprocate Es' kindness. She says it herself in This Is How To Be In Love With You,

"I’m going to start relying on you if you’re kind to me, so please forgive me, thanks!”

In her second voice drama Mahiru would have more than likely begun venting to Es about her relationships. We would have heard contradictory factors about the person she's been with. This would have alluded to what This Is How To Be In Love With You and I Love You alludes to that Mahiru was seeing multiple people.

This is alluded to in This Is How To Be In Love With You through her myriad of outfit changes, the changes in the interests of the people she's going to see, the fact that out of all those pictures we only see this guy once and it's his arm.

These statements,

Q.03 Have you ever cheated on someone? Mahiru: Of course not! How could you ever cheat on someone!? Right!? Q.05 Who do you dislike most out of the other prisoners? Mahiru: Futa-kun is a bully, so definitely out! Also Mikoto is pretty flippant, he kinda seems like the type who’d cheat~

There is no reason for anyone to bring up cheating this often or for these questions to be chosen if they didn't show tell us something about the characters being asked the question. Then in I Love You,

"Saying I love you but doing what I did, I know I have no right, crossed and covered in sin."

We'd probably get to see when she began to have relationships like that. She'd start trying to give Es love advice, tips on how to better communicate with the other prisoners, start asking if their was anyone they'd fallen in love with yet. Probably assume it was Mu since she was innocent.

Her second trial song would have probably focused on finally getting the acceptance she felt she deserved and finding understanding. The stalker thing would still be mentioned and she would possibly be confused or brush it off like well of course you want to know everything about the people you're with it's the same as how you are with all of us right. You want to know us in and out because you care about all of us right that's love too?

Ultimately Mahiru as a character embodies the states of love. So, we'd probably shift to another form of love like with agape, eros, storge, philia as she would try to teach Es the concept in hopes of them better understanding and accepting her. Due to being rejected she cranked things up to a hundred jumping straight into saying I love you to get her point across. Because those three words can have a bit of stun effect especially when said out of nowhere and so much like that.

She ultimately used the phrase so much it lost its meaning. Well it still had its meaning but it became really doubtful that Mahiru understood what it was. Because of that she was mostly labelled as too delusional to understand what she had done was wrong despite blatantly admitting she was informed by the person that her behavior was making them uncomfortable multiple times.

"I know it's not the type of question you want to be asked I can’t help myself because I want to see your cute confused face, I’m sorry."

Mahiru's response to being rejected is to pursue harder. Is to come on stronger until the other party gives in. Her response to being accepted seems to be to lose interest. To back off, stay leveled, and look for other things that would be more exciting than the monotony of a regular relationship. Including just sewing chaos in the relationship she currently has just to do it. So much so that she notes it's a pattern to the extent of being considered a ritual by her,

"Even when I test you, even the times we do the breakup ritual- Is because I love you."

Ultimately she would have ended up guilty trial two because she would have blamed everything on others in her life for not being accepting enough. Or not,

"Do you really think you know what love is?"

Really knowing what love was like she does. She would become the resident love expert and start pursuing the object of her affection heavily which is implied to be Kazui,

20/06/19

Kazui: By the way…… thanks, Shina-chan. You keep going around and talking to people to make sure the mood never gets too sour, right? It’s a big help. We’re all in here together, after all. If a fight broke out the whole group could fall apart. Mahiru: ……eh? Huh~? Ah, no, I’m just talking to people because I personally want to talk. All the kids are so cute, so I can’t help but want to fuss over them! A fight, huh… But if that ever happened, then you’ll definitely be a big help, right~? Since you’re so big! And buff! Kazui: Ahh, no. I mean, I’ll do what I can. Based on appearance, as long as nobody has a weapon, I think I can probably get everyone under control…… No, we should just hope that nothing like that ever happens. Mahiru: You know, I quite like watching martial arts, actually. I don’t really get it, but it looks super cool. Hi-yah! Hi-yah!

Day. 5

point: watch Left: Today I started talking to him by chance, and he told me that his hobby is running. Without thinking I took a chance where I saw it and told him “I’m interested too!” so now we’re going to go running together. Even though I’m really bad at exercise…… I’ve never run so much in my life. Totally exhausted. Don’t lose focus even when exercising! The pastel tones mean not only do you look ready to go but also give off a cute oneesan appeal. Hoodie, T-shirt, shorts, leggings, cap, sneakers, wristwatch ／ All personal possessions

20/08/02

Mahiru: Yeah, I’m asking for what you like in the opposite sex! I mean, with a lifestyle like this we have a lot of free time, right? So earlier when I was talking with all the other girls we got onto the topic! It’s not often you get a chance like this to live with a mix of men and women together, so I thought it might be nice to use the chance to talk about stuff like this in preparation for when we leave. Kazui: Ah…… Haha, I understand. I can see that’d be the sort of thing girls your age would be interested in, huh. How peaceful. What I like in the opposite sex… I don’t know if what I say will really be a good reference for you…… Ah, you know, since I’m at this age. I like a girl who can just smile free of worries. Seeing that’d make my old, tired heart feel young again. Yuno: Uh-huh, I see, I see. ……that’s a total lie, right? Kazui: Haha…… Give me a break here. You sure don’t make things easy for people, Kashiki-chan.

Q.05 Who do you dislike most out of the other prisoners?

"Futa-kun is a bully, so definitely out! Also Mikoto is pretty flippant, he kinda seems like the type who’d cheat~"

20/06/08

Mahiru: Shidou-san…… you’re really good-looking. Personally I think you’d be better if you ate a bit more, but you’re slim and tall, and well put together to boot…… You must’ve been super popular up until now, right? Shidou: ……yeah, that’s true…… I did my share of fooling around in the past. Mahiru: Oh~? That’s not the sort of answer I’d expect from you. I’ve got it! Somebody told you that if you replied like that people wouldn’t resent you so much, right? Shidou: Haha, I’m surprised you guessed. ……it seems that no matter what guise I put on, it’s meaningless against a woman’s insight.

Q.20 What do you think about smoking?

Mahiru: I’ve never smoked myself- But if the person I like did, then I might start to be like them.

21/08/05   (Kazui’s Birthday)

Kazui: Oh, Shina-chan? How scandalous, coming to a man’s room in the middle of the night like this. Well, not that it’s really a room, just a cell. ……just kidding, since you brought some drinks with you, I’m assuming you’ve come to wish me a happy birthday, right? Thank you. Mahiru: Yep! Happy birthday Kazui-san~ Clap clap clap! But as well as that~ ……I also just maybe wanted to use it as an excuse so I could ask you for some advice over drinks, I suppose? Kazui: Advice, huh. Well, you’re more than welcome, but I don’t really know what advice an old man like me could give you. I haven’t got the first clue about what love is like for a young girl nowadays. Mahiru: Ahaha…… Don’t worry, much as I’d love to talk about that too, um…… er, Kazui-san. You know, recently I’ve been having the same dream every day. Lots of people were denying my actions…… Denying my thoughts…… that sort of dream.

"Ring ring, I’m calling you in the middle of the night."/ "

Q.05  If you went to an amusement park, what ride would you choose to go on? Kazui: Not gonna lie, I kinda want to go on the merry-go-round.

With Shidou, Mahiru and Kazui all innocent round one I feel like Mahiru would start smoking as an excuse to get closer to Kazui. Then that would in turn bring her closer to Shidou who was already showing an interest in Mahiru due to the many ways she resembles his wife. Being good at cooking, cleaning, communication, and with kids like Amane.

This would open up the love triangle route. Where Mahiru is interested in Kazui, Kazui is annoyed or put off by her advances (not really interested in anyone), Shidou is interested in Mahiru and worried about how the verdict has been impacting her because she just started smoking seems to be changing a great deal and in a very insignificant amount of time at that.

She'd basically start annoying Kazui the same way that Mu began annoying Yuno. She'd then be more guilty trial two for getting in the of a lot of people's favorite ships. People would react worse to Mahiru even trying to fuck Kazui then they did to Mu and Haruka's relationship where no one was fucking. There wasn't even much inclination that was going on with them and both their fans wanted to burn the other character at the stake for daring to be near their precious child.

People would be calling for Mahiru to be killed out of jealousy. Because she dared to even make one advance at Kazui. Not me though girl you pursue your dreams.

Shidou was like there's still time you can get out of here and do that while Mahiru was laid up and bed like yeah out of here and do it. Kazui off patrolling the prison as this woman is sat in bed with two attendants. Kazui and Mahiru were stopped from doing the funniest thing due to those first trial verdicts.

It would have been amazing to see her pursue that harder. Because she was pursuing it. She never asked any other man what their type was. That was a Kazui specific question. We didn't see that conversation with the girls she was talking about. Plus we know the other girls here who the fuck was really asking that question at that time?

Mu was afraid and requesting deserts. Kotoko is Kotoko. Do you think she asked. Yuno is there and could have corroborated her story but instead was like let me point out how this man is lying.

Just him and she quickly dismissed any other man here as not good enough for arbitrary reasons or just based of vibes.

She knew she is twenty-three she navigated that well but she knew. Her coming in their trial two and being like thanks to Milgram I found my true love and Kazui coming in trial two like you need to do something about this woman before I do. While Shidou is over here getting Mahiru's help tending to Amane after she inevitably gets wounded because Kotoko would then attack in this order,

Futa

Amane

Mikoto- (intervenes)

This would be wild. It would logically be what would happen. Like it's logistically Kotoko's best bet to attack the most people. However it going this way relies on the idea that Kazui would still intervene during the attack with Futa which would leave Amane tto get really messed up by Kotoko's attack.

Now hear me out.

In this circumstance Futa might get fucked up more and Kazui would have probably intervened with Amane instead. Because in the first attack he choose the younger of the two prisoners Kotoko attempted to attack to step in on. So in this scenario he may do that again.

Protecting the kids like Mahiru asked him to.

This of course only makes Mahiru want him more. He's a protector she thinks. He's so strong and did the best he could she says. She just wants to be a little more like him it's not weird to want to be like the person you like Es and she can stop smoking any time. She started and she can quit!

Mahiru on that Gilbert Nightray behavior if you know then you know. I love how I said this was short but I actually have so many thoughts on this because it's a hilarious setup. Man it would have been hilarious if she was innocent trial one because the staff didn't expect her to be guilty. So her innocent scenario must have been so much worse.

Like there are a lot of ways it could have went if she was innocent trial one but given statements within canon this is something I see as being incredibly likely. Yeah so that's all I've got on that sorry for like accidentally posting the answer before it was complete and hope you can see this.

[fakeassfriends]

How does one go about making a character reference for art fight

im not very good at typing explanations on things so ive drawn it out for you anon ! do genuinely hope this helps !! ^^

[cranberrymoons]

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