#and the whole 'if only you had just let people in and asked for help...' oKAY BUT IN THIS ARC HE DOES OKAY

[whore-ibly-hot]

"What it takes to lead."

Yan!Dictator x Fem!Reader x Yan!Next in line.

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Non-con, mentions of violence, fascism, groping, p-in-v sex, sexism, questionable father son Dynamics, power dynamics, leather play.

AN: I recently began reading @yanderedrabbles works and they broke my brain, so when I saw they had a Yan!Dictator planned it inspired me. This is... meh.

You don't know how this could've happened.

It was supposed to be a routine visit. Your father was a well off oil baron, owning one of the largest refineries in America, not counting his export deals. You had gone with him, unaware of the tense political state of Dela Marina.

Admittedly, the American government was somewhat aware of the rulers less than conventional methods of maintaining control. Camps, strict surveillance, and a cutting off of outside media aside from those approved by the Dela Marina Media council, but for America's political interests, and more importantly your father's bank, the warnings signs went ignored.

It started off as just a nice, tropical vacation. White sand beaches, exotic meals, and a blaring tan from the sun. However, something soon seemed a bit off. The leader, El presidente Ramon Ballesteros, gave you chills. He said nice things, talked about his vision for Dela Marina, how he would shape the land and people to 'true culture'. It would be inspiring, if his faze didn't feel so dark, so imposing. It was as if hew was analyzing everything, every move you made.

Still, Féliz calmed you a bit. The son of Ramon, as close to a prince as you could be in this 'democracy'. He was nothing like his father. Quiet, more subdued, though just as analytical. His father takes thing in while he speaks, but Feliz stays behind, letting his father do the talking.

"Hello there, señorita." Feliz had approached you the night of the welcome dinner, a lavish affair with Del Marina's finest chefs on hand. "My father wanted me to welcome you personally, we are both youths, uh, leader of the future, he says. Your countries, and mine." He seems awkward repeating his father propaganda. Despite this, you like him. He's funny, he tells you about growing up in Del Marina, about the culture, the people. "You have to go to the beach with me, there all white sand. Is beautiful, and if we go early enough, we can see the starfish beach." You took him up on all his outings, you could tell he was deeply alone, at his core.

"Feliz?" You had asked once. "Do you... get out much? I mean, I'm one for decadence. Whole point of having a daddy with money is spending it." You laugh. You were privileged. You knew it, you embraced it. You had never had to worry about anything, never had a reason to loop beyond at the suffering of the others. Why focus on all that?

"No, I don't. It's tense, in Del Marina. Their are Terroristas, rebels. Mis padre would rather me be here, where its safer. Besides, partying isn't for me. I have to learn how to lead, to study and to help people. My people." He'd explained, fiddling with the white pressed uniform he so often wore, a less refined and adorned version of his fathers. "Loosen up." You had suggested. "We can have some fun, we're friends now, yeah? Let's go party!" Feliz had never wanted really to go to a club, to spend time with the privileged people while he knew others, those being exploitated, were suffering. But you were so, so pretty, and the only friend he felt he had. You made him feel special, not for bring the son of the president, or 'Del Marina's future'. You made him feel special for being him. He agreed.

He was terrified when you both snuck out, naturally it didn't take long for the guards to drag the both of you back to the palace, you kicked and yelled while he went quietly. He feared his father would turn his anger to you, he was ready to take the brunt of the anger. However, his father seems amused. You laugh along with his dad, not sensing the chilling undertone.

"Your son, and the american girl, Presidente." A guard said, bowing, hand over hid chest. "They were seen heading to a club on the north side."

"Ah, let them go." Ramon grins, waving a hand as the guards back off. "Kids, ey? Even at twenty, they still can't help.but wander off. It's good, independence. To think, to have fun. Kids behave this way, it's expected. Dismissed." The guards leave, and he steps down to you. "I ought to thank you, you know? No one has ever gotten my son quite so out of his shell. Feliz, I've tried to inspire that boldness in you, I suppose I didn't realize it would take such a lovely young lady to do so." Felix goes red, looking down. He knows this is a facade, and still can sense the danger in the room. Ramon takes your hand, kissing it. "But i should have known, he is his fathers son, and we are both red blooded men, yes?" He chuckles to himself.

"I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to have some fun. And I thought maybe Feliz needed a friend." You mumble, heels scuffing the floor awkwardly. Still; you aren't sorry. "He needed a break. To live."

The president goes silent, but then nods, laughing with his arms going. "Of course! Dis boy of mine, always with the working, he wants to be like his papa. It's honorable, but a young man still needs to let loose while he's young. Next time, all I ask is you take an escort. These terroristas planning Del Marina won't care about your intentions, just the message hurting you would send." His gaze grows serious, and you gulps.

"Ah, y-yeah. I'll keep that in mind." You look down, stepping away. "I'll probably go to bed, I've had enough fun. Goodnight, Presidente." He smiles, watching as you turn to Feliz. The tan boy looks through his dark locks, trying to hide his obvious flush from his father. You didn't need any reason to be made to stay here, and he knew his dad. "Night, Feliz." You call, and he just sends you a weak wave. Worried you upset him, you scurry off. The moment you slip out of the heavy wooden door of the presidente's office; his happy and jovial expression falls, mask melting away.

"Why this sudden change in you?" "Papa, please, I didn't mean anything by it, it was all my idea-" His fathers raised hand silences him. "Enough, Feliz." Ramon sighs, strolling to his desk cabinets, hand running across the mahogany surface as he opens up a velvet box, pulling out a bottle of scotch. "I didn’t lie to you, I'm not angry. I wish that your judgment had not been blinded and you had simply brought a guard-" He pours to crystal glasses, the brown liquid filling the clear, ornate glasses. "But I'm proud none the less. You made a choice, a bold one. Hm, we drink, you're becoming a man!"

Feliz winces at the glass sliding towards him, but knows his father won't take no gore an answer. "It was nothing, Papa. Just a quick outing, she was bored and I went with."

"Oh-ho, it was more than that, my son. It's okay, I'm older, but I'm still a man. I'm not immune to the charms of a woman. She is beautiful, no?" Ramon takes a sip, relishing in the burn of the drink. "This is the real infatuation you've had, isn't it."

"Its not an infatuation, she's a friend and-" His father glares, he knows he hates liars. "I... I like her, of course. But its nothing serious, no more than a crush."

"Even a crush is serious for a stoic, quiet man like you, Feliz." His dad leans forward to lift his chin up a bit. "I've never seen you take to anyone like this, that's what makes it serious." Harshly patting the young man's cheek, he leans back. "Her Father is a great ally, a man willing to buy the vast amount of oil our country has. It would be incredible for Del Marina to seal a deal like this, to lock something down. And Feliz, I know you want what's best for the country." Once again, hisbfather cold demeanor returns, shifting from joviality frighteningly fast. "So, I tell you to pursue it."

"I don't even know if she feels that way about me, a-and I couldn't ask her to stay in some foreign country!" Feliz is spouting every excuse he can think of, to push you away, push his fathers implications away, to keep you safe from the truth. The dangers of Del Marina, of his father government and more importantly, his father. Another withering look makes him nod. "I'll... ask her out. See if she'll accompany me to the press gala." He mumbles obediently.

"Good boy. Go, get some rest." He pats his sons shoulder. "And remember, Feliz,-" He chides, turning away and taking another sip, back to the future of Del Marina. "Ballesteros's take what they want."

Lying in bed, the grandness of his room feels imposing. As cold and lonely as ever, his own oil portrait staring back at him. He never liked the commissioned piece. It felt... fake. An image of his, posed by a map, in his uniform, looking like his father. Just. Like. His. Father. The sound of a creaking door makes him sit-up, and he only feels the discomfort in his stomach grow as he sees your form slipping into his room, clad only in pajamas that cling to you. Despite the terror he feels, the pulse of arousal in his gut is prominent too. He grabs his silk pillow, covering up a growing problem as he sees you approach.

"You can't be here, w-what are you doing?" He asks.

You just shake your head and laugh. "Please, it's fine. Your dad made it clear he likes me, and I wanted to check on you." You plop down unceremoniously, groaning at the feeling of the luxurious sheets on your body. "Shit, that's good."

"Go, you have to go-"

"Are you mad at me?" You ask, pouting as you turn to face him. Hes cute when he's nervous, brows furrowed and dark hair tousled. His hands grip the sheets. "Cmon. I'm sorry if I upset you, I just wanted to have fun!"

"I know, I know." he shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you, I was excited. It's just that you don't know my papa like I do. He always has a plan, a motive, for anything he does. And i don't want you getting caught up in something you shouldn't."

You frown, but ignore his warning. "Nah, he likes me, it's fine. I'm not scared of some politician, no different than my dad-"

"No." Hes dead serious, seeing the soft, sweet man so serious makes you pale, gulping. "You have no idea what he's like. What our country is really like, I-" He puts a fist over his mouth, rubbing at his face. "Please. Just try to keep your head down. Okay?" Nodding, and cold at the severity of his sudden change, you scoot closer.

"Okay, okay." You put your hands up in mock defense. "I'm sorry, I'll keep in line. I just wanted to check on you." I pat his arm. "Didn't want you mad at me."

He relaxes at the feeling of your slumped, warm weight against him. "No, I couldn't be mad at you, amiga. You're one of the... few friends I have, even in the short time I've known you. I just don't want you hurt."

"I like you too, Feliz." You murmur, and the simple admission is enough to make his heart palpitate. He grips the sheets, before slowly putting a hand on you. "Go, you should get back to your room. I'll see you tomorrow."

Watching as you pad across the floor, he coughs. "And... there's a gala, coming up. A media event for father and yours to be shown getting along. If you... if you wanted to go. With me."

"Who else would I go with, Feliz?" You tease, making him just look down, nodding.

So how did it end up as this? You're stuck up in the room given to you at the Presidente's estate, it had once felt so grand but now felt suffocatingly small. A deal had been struck, something went wrong when you had been seen at the gala. Media went wild, rumors flew about the pretty new girl spotted alongside Dela Marina's darling prince. And Ramon approached your father with an offer. You don't know what it was, or why he'd agree to it, but it culminated in your father jetting off; leaving you behind.

"Please, please- I don't understand-" You whine, hands shaking and skin slicked with nervous sweat as you see guards sealing up the doors of your room. Trapped. "Presidente Ramon-"

"Shh." His gloved hand pressing a finger to your lips silences you, eyes wide. It is now you are beginning to see the side of the Dela Marina presidente you had heard of. Calculated, cruel. "There's no need to panic, little American darling. It's not like your losing any luxuries you had back home, perhaps you are even gaining some. Both me and your father think this is best, a joining of powers. Now, he was hesitant." Ramon rolls his eyes. "But you are a fierce little thing, and I told him you'd get a bit more discipline here. I doubt he was strict enough in your upbringing. Not that a spark isn't amusing, señora. It's charming at times." His smirk is that of a lion looking over it pray.

"You see," he intertwines his fingers together as he sits down at the foot of the four poster bed beside you. "My son. He loves you. He'll say it's a crush, but a father knows his son. He's always been good, my boy. Never asked for things, never taken what he wanted like he should. This is a push in the right direction for him. To make him make a move. I expect you like him as much?"

"I mean, I don't, I don't know-" You're stammering, hands shaking. It's all crashing down, overwhelming. The feeling of absolution in his town, of finality, is bone chilling. "He's my friend?"

"Ah, well, that's only his own fault. He has trouble taking initiative, and I dont fault you either." He sits up straighter. "Im a traditionalist, like my father and his before him. Of course it should be the man who propositions the young lady, but my son-" he waves his hand. "Has this idea in his head, silly notions about the changing of culture. I am fine with most of it, but a wife and children? Being the man for your family, for your country. No, that I will never budge on."

"Papa!" The heavy door slams open, with a frantic Feliz standing in the now open doorway. "What are you doing, why is she here-"

"Ah, my boy. Come, sit. Me and your friends father had been talking, she'll be staying for a bit. Good news, ay? Now, I'm sure you've got something you'd like to say-"

"Y-you can't do this, she doesn't belong here, papa-" Feliz juts his hands forward to help you, to try and think of a way out of this. "Are you okay? Did your father leave-"

"Feliz!" Ramon's voice booms across the room, causing both of you to still like deers caught in headlights. "Calm yourself, I'm helping you along in making a decision you are unable to make yourself. You will be grateful, and apologize."

It's shocking to see how Feliz shrinks, to see how his dad treats him behind closed doors. "I- I'm sorry, Papa. I just didn't want her in distress. I didn't want her feeling confused." He mutters, head down like an obedient hound.

"Of course, and that's admirable, but you should put more trust in your father to know I’ve already explained the situation. Now come here, come." He waves his son over, and the pair stand near you on the bed. "Tell her. Of your feelings, take charge."

"I-" Theyoung man is trying not to hyperventilate, hands gripping his white uniform short like he's staving off a seizure. "I like you, you know this. I feel emotions for you that no one else had made me feel, and-and if you'd have me-" he sounds like he's ready from a script, eyes clenched shut.

"Not if. Be assertive." His father hisses. "Tell her she is to be yours. Tell her your feelings are strong enough you won't be denied. Tell her what you can provide given your status." He's glaring like a schoolteacher scolding a naughty pupil, and the shaking boy nods.

"When- when you decide I am right for you, I'll provide what you need. Our country has vast resources, and wealth for you to enjoy. You would want for nothing." Its monotone, like an audio book, like it's pre-recorded. Seeing his fathers fist clench, he moves to kiss you lightly. As he approaches, he whispers a soft "I'm so sorry-" as he places warm, slightly chapped lips onto yours. Shocked, but to afraid to not play along, you kiss back. It's soft, it would be intoxicating if the sense of impending doom didn't weigh so heavy, being moved like dolls in a dollhouse.

"That was nice, Feliz." You can think only to reassure him, hand landlord on his neatly pressed shirt. "Very nice, I like you too, of course." You tuck his hair behind his ear, seeing the way his lip wobbles, his eyes water. He's so guilty, he never should have spoken to you.

"Wonderful." His body is jolted by a slap to the back, his father laughing. "Good man, now, shall I leave you kids alone? I'm sure you'll want time to yourself. Son, you understand what a man must take from his woman, yes?"

"I... our relationship is new, papa. I can't. I-I-" He pauses. "I won't, I won't do it. I can't, I wouldn't know how and I dont want her to do anything she doesn't want."

Ramon scoffs. "She's agreed to be yours son, go on! Of course she wants it, don't you, pequeña?" Ramon gestures to where you're laid, looking at you expectantly. When you say nothing, he raises his brows in suprise. "Unbelievable. I set the two of you up for every opportunity and you can't do that. Son," he grabs Feliz's shoulder roughly. "We are men. Conquerors, rulers. We take what we want, lions from lambs. How can you expect to lead, to protect this great country from terroristas if you cannot ask your woman for what all hot-blooded men desire!" He's growing angry, truly mad, his usual cool annoyance heating up. "You have to learn if you don't take what you want, someone else will. Your land, your power, your woman."

"Papa, please-"

"No. I have to do everything my self with you. I'm going to show you what happens if you don't take the first step." He changes his eyes to you, your cowering form. "Strip, girl." You're eyes widen, head shaking on instincts.

"What, no, no, I'm not going to-"

"The choice is not yours. I've got guards outside, you're in my country. In my home." He comes to the bedside, leaning down so he's practically nose to nose with you, dark brown eyes feel like a pool you're drowning in, swallowed whole. "The only thing you are in control of now is how gentle I am, sí?" You're still frozen, just shaking your head over and over again, resulting in him sighing. It's a minor annoyance to him, like he's not violating you but rather just dealing with a disobedient pup. "Everything by myself." He repeats.

Gloved hands brush across your collarbone, cool leather causing a trail of goosebumps to blossom on your skin. He jerks his hand back, tearing the buttons on your dress. The front pops open, buttons clattering to the floor with a 'tink-tink'. Feliz winces, hand to his mouth in horror.

"Papa, please, please don't..." He begs, voice as soft and light as he can make it. He was a good father when he was little. Doting, he'd comfort him when he cried, take him on little outings. A part of Feliz hopes that softer voice would remind him of the boy he once was, that he'd give in.

"This is what happens son, you don't take initiative, someone gets there before you." Ramon feels you squirm a bit and tightens the grip he's got on your left arm, gaze never leaving his son as he warns you. "Don't squirm, girl." He warns. "You're a lady, not some groveling worm, hold still, I'll get to you in a moment."

"Can I talk her through it?" Feliz asks. "Let me be by her side, or at least... I don't know!" He begs. Ramon tilts his head, then nods. "Alright. Second best option is getting in where you can. Rising through the ranks, get over here." Feliz scrambles to get to your other side. "Now, let's get this off." Ramon grabs the blade he keeps on his waistband at his side, pressing the cold still to your pretty skin while he cuts the lace straps of your bra off. "Aw, beautiful. Shame to hide such beautiful breasts away, without a man to reveal them." He coos. Rough lips place a kiss to your left nipple, making you whimper. "Just beautiful. Feliz, take it in. Your first woman."

Feliz is staring, both horrified at his biological reaction and awe struck at the sight of your newly revealed breasts. He'd stared many a time when they were covered, to see them exposed in front of him was a new feelings entirely. He reaches out, letting a breath he didn't know he was holding escape as he gropes your left tit.

"There we go, it's good, yeah? A woman's body is a miraculous thing." Groaning, he leans down and kisses up and down softly the nape of your neck. "Don't stay quiet, let me hear those pretty noises, girl." He whispers

"I don't, this can't happen, presidente. I don't want this." You whisper, and he just chuckles, looking up at you from his place on your chest. "Ah, amor, but you will."

A sudden pressure on your ass makes you squeak, his hands groping the meat of your ass firmly, sure to leave bruises. "Don't speak back to me, ey? Lay back and enjoy what a man in power can offer you, girl. And call me Ramone." He grins. "There's no need for formalities when I'm going to have you speared on my cock."

Feliz grimaces at the way your eyes water, so afraid. But not only can he not help, he's so horrendously turned on. Your heaving breasts, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You're a picture of eroticism, and the hardening in his shorts is a clear sign that the part of him desiring you is winning him over. He watches his father roll you over, gloved fist kneading the cheeks of your ass.

"Just a short reminder to not talk back. To behave."

A sharp pain makes you yelps, a harsh slap to your ass. Immediately after delivering the blow, his gloved hand massages to red mark. "See? Even when in the throws of sex, you should exercise your control, my boy. Let her know you are in charge, regardless of their pleasure she is providing you." He scoots aside, petting half while looking at Feliz. Feliz swallows harshly, but hovers his hand lightly over your plump rear. Another squeak, as he delivers a softer, albeit still harsh spank. "Make sure she's okay now. A firm hand, not a cruel one."

Feliz shaky hand gently rubs the mark, mimicking Ramon's actions, and he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not too much, right? It wasn't too much? You-" He's trying to justify himself, why he feels so aroused by all this, by you. "You liked it, right?"

You're shocked, but as you shake your head no, another slap. The gentle kneading afterwards does little to relieve the pain. You know not to protest. "It's fine." You whisper.

Feliz wouldn't normally believe you, he'd hear the pain in your voice, the tremble. He'd want to sooth you, but he was so unbelievably needy in those moment, for for relief and to believe you were happy with him. That this was a good, intimate moment between the two of you, without his fathers direction, without force. Thid was the moment he trusted himself, his virginity to you. He just smiles weakly at your statement that it's okay.

"So pretty, let's get these off of you, huh?" You can feel the gloves leather, once cool, now hot against your skin he snaps your pantie strap against your hip, making you flinch. "Hm, I bet you've had plenty of men. A rich privileged American girl, spending your papas money. Does he know, know that your a slut, or is he too busy?"

"I've only been with a few guys..." you weakly protest. "From... club and stuff."

"A few too many. If any proper man had had you, he'd be sure you only ever took his cock, allowed him inside of you." Once again grabbing that knife, he slides the blade across the strap he had previously snapped, the fabric tearing and loosening. "Beautiful..." he runs his finger over the lips of your pussy, puffy from arousal. He lets you feel each wrinkle in the leather of his gloves, before spreading your lips apart, strings of slick snapping.

Feliz feels his mouth is watering, your mouth watering, your most bare part vulnerable for him. He can't stop himself from cupping your mound, letting his fingers curiously trail up to your clit. You let out a reluctant moan at the feeling; and he just leans down to kiss your cheek. "You're so pretty. A-and you're doing so well..." Making sure his father is distracted, he whispers in your ear. "Im sorry our first time together had to be like this, but... its still nice, right?" He's still in denial about the horrors of his actions. "You still get to feel good, and you get to be with me. This... this is what we both want..."

"Feliz..." You whimper, but he just shakes his head. "No, don't tell me it's not. I can't handle that right now." Despite his good nature, Feliz has always been given what he wanted. He cant help but feel selfish, ask you not to hurt his feelings or overwhelm him while your the one being violated. He'll reflect on that later. His lips, slightly chapped, press hot against yours, once, then twice. "That was my first." He admits. "Wouldn't want it to be anyone but you."

Suddenly, his father grabs his collar, pulling me back a bit. "Come now, boy. Clear out, I need my time now."

Feliz pales. "Papa?" He's visibly confused. "You said... take what I want, be a leader, not a follower. I thought you'd be giving her to me, that I'd be having sex with her! You said a man should let his woman be only with him from the moment he decides he wants her?" His tan hands are shaking, flushed face a mix of embarrassment and frustration. All he wants is to tenderly relieve the pressure in his shorts with you, and as he sees his father let out a 'tsk', his frustration increases.

"But that doesn't apply, does it? She's had other men before, and she's not a true, proper woman of our country. If nothing else, it's better I be sure she's even worth it. It's not simply sex, this could be the woman you choose to lead alongside, boy." His father cold glare makes him shrink back, sliding off the bed.

"But, isn't it a test of my leadership that I take her first-"

"You wouldn't question your papa?" Ramom hisses, and Feliz wilts. He can't make eye contact with you as he leaves the room. When it's him violating you, he can at least pretend you feel safer because it's him, that you like it. But its his father, a ruthless dictator, and stranger. As he leaves and makes his way down the hall, he's determined to be ready to cater for you when it's all over.

Back in the room, you remain a trembling mess, watching the much older man removing his belt with a practiced speed. "Please don't, sir-" You ask. "I don't feel comfortable, I don't-"

"You should feel grateful." He reminds. "To have both the attentions of a leader and his son. I understand it might be frightening, you know the kind of man I am. How i stay in power, I've tricked your father but I've no doubt that boy of mine has admitted some things to you." As he removes white dress pants and dispenses of his gloves on the nightstand, he grips your chin with now-bare fingers. Calloused; from years of clawing his way to the top. "You aren't stupid. That's one of the things I admire about you, girl. Smart, if a bit spoiled. That's fine, respect can be taught, a place can be taught. Natural intelligence can be harder to develop."

"Why me?" You blurt. "Why are you forcing me into this, you could have any woman, I'm not even close to your age, a-and Feliz, Feliz likes me!" You hope to garner even a bit of sympathy for his son in this moment, hoping it would prevent him going all the way.

"He does not 'like' you, he loves you." He says matter-of-factly. "Which is precisely why this has to be done. You will be in the public eye, the first lady of this great country. I need to know you can be submissive, can provide as a wife should. But... I also need to know you can be taught, can take orders. My boy, he is-" Ramon shakes his head. "Meeker than I would like, despite my efforts. I need to know even with his less than firm hand that he can ensure you behave. And ones true colors come out in the bedroom, I find."

He pounces, baring down rather suddenly, grip on your jaw near crushing as his free hand strokes once, then twice over his cock; brown with a curve to it and a purple tip. "But, I am also not a liar. I admit the idea of having a beautiful young woman around my manhood isn't-" he nips are your ear, breath hot yet making you feel frigid with fear. "Intoxicating."

"It's been a long time." You whisper, and he feigns a caring pout. "Ah, I'm sure. Don't worry, I won't let you hurt. But remember, this is about taking orders. First, take me in your hands. I doubt you're inexperienced in this, so don't feign naivety." His voice is low, threatening. Despite the churning feeling of sickness, you take his length in one shaky hand, wrapping round the erect shaft, and refusing to meet his gaze.

"Good. Go on now, kiss it, just the tip. I want to see you practice restraint, just because you don't want this doesn't mean I will rush." He warns. Your plush lips gently press the bulbous tip, you can feel a shiver run up him as you do. Testing the waters and desperate to get it over with, you slowly slip in the tip, tongue pressing against the vein under his cock. He doesn't thrust, not allowing you to take hin in fully; but the clenching in his jaw shows the effect it's having.

"Wonderful..." He groans. "Very good, take a little more, yes? I know you can, shit-" He rolls his hips, the salty flavor of skin filling your mouth further as you take him in deeper. "Good, suckle. Suck the cock of El presidente-" He's beginning to get a bit lost in his praise of himself more than you.

Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears, eyes screwed shut as a few tears slip from them. Ramon grunts, whispering another moan of pleasure before noticing and sighing. He wipes some tears with his thumb, licking up the salty water to your shock. "Don't cry, cariño. I'm not being cruel. I'm being rather gentle with your pretty mouth; no damaged goods here." He reminds. You can hear his grunts increasing in frequency, his cock twitching in your mouth, when he roughly threads his fingers in your hair and yanks you off his cock.

"Hands and knees, face away." He demands. "Don't make me wait." Your knees dig into the silk of the bed, assuming an easily mountable position. Once again, you make a final plea. "Please-" Your voice sounds as though it could shatter. "Don't hurt me."

To your suprise, you can feel him freezing behind you, and hear a deep sigh. You scre your eyes tight as you feel him assume position behind you, leaky cock pressing against your folds as his chest, still clad in his white dress shirt, presses against your bare spine. One hand holds himself up, while the other takes your chin from behind, gentler than his initially grip. He places a few small kisses mixed with nibbles against the flushed shell of your ear.

"Being a leader-" he begins, "Is not easy. Being the wife of one, even more so. There is danger, societal expectations, and constant decisions that must be made. But know this, my touch is not something you need to fear, cariño." He's uncharacteristically tender now, and that frightens you more.

He finishes his speech with a kiss to the back of your neck, before sighing as he eases his tip into your wet folds.

"Ah-" You whine, it's thick, but it doesn't fully hurt. He's tender, he kept his promise. "Feel that? The stretch of a true Dela Marinan man?" He asks, working his way in a bit deeper. His balls, heavy, slowly crawl closer to the lips of your cunt as he further enters, groaning.

"Beautiful. Mmph, you don't have the makings of a first lady." He firstly pulls out, before sheathing fully again. "You're practically sucking me in, girl. You were made to take a Dela Marinan man, god-" His pace increases, gripping your hips as the thrusts.

"Are you close?" He asks. "Can you feel that coil of pleasure within you? Go on, release. Cum when the man controlling you demands."

Letting out a final mewl mixed with a sob, you can feel yourself beginning to spasm, walls twitching as a gush of fluids coats his cock. In a display of impressive control, though not surprising for the cold blooded president, he removes his angry cock without finishing. Quickly tucking himself away, back into his boxers, he towels the sweat from his brows as he appraises your fucked-out form. "You have the makings of a good wife. There is more to teach certainly, but there will be time for that. Though-" He tilts his head as if in deep contemplation, before leaning down to press a rather full kiss to your sweat-soaked form. It's passionate, surprisingly so, and he had held back from something that intimate so far. "As much as I love that boy of mine, I wonder if he is man enough to deserve a woman like you." He whispers, before pulling away and rather curtly leaving.

You can hear what sounds like voices in the hall, and soon two female attendants come to wipe you up. You're took sore to protest, and as they scurry out, the hurried footsteps of Feliz replace the noise they made. A look of worry fades slowly when he sees you, looking tired but mostly unharmed. He's got a glass of water in hand, a piece of chocolate, and other random medicine cabinet items. It's clear he was unsure what a woman would need for aftercare, and just took everything.

"I'm here, it's okay now." You can't even bring yourself to tale comfort in the words of your friend. You wanted him to have saved you, yet the most emotion he showed during the ordeal was learning he couldn't have you first. You just lay silent, still. He lays down beside you, fully clothed, curling into your side like a child seeking their mother's comfort. He pulls the sheets over you, kissing your forehead before closing his eyes.

"It'll be better next time." He promises. "It'll be me." That hardly soothes the pain.

[thjsrots]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

window watching

stalker!jinx x reader

; warnings: bondage, voyeurism, overstimulation, dildo/vibrator usage, scissoring, squirt, drool/slobber, meanish Jinx, praise, degradation, dom!jinx x brat(ish)!sub!reader

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Mmh, fuck…” You moaned out as you gripped onto your sheets, fingers stuffed as deep inside you as they’d go, tight hole clenching around them as you pumped in and out. You were completely naked, above the covers, legs spread wide as you fucked yourself stupid. Your fingers curled just right, constantly hitting your own g-spot, whiny moans growing louder. You opened an eye to peak over at your bare window, blinds pulled open, pussy out for the whole fucking world to see.

Well, not really the whole world, but for Jinx.

She was watching, you knew it. Even though you two were together now, this was one of your stalker girlfriend’s favorite past times, watching you from afar. Only this time, you’d decided to put on a show for her, something to… kill time, let’s say. The only thing you could see within the pitch darkness of the window was the violet glowing from her eyes each time you moaned out, smirking as you knew she was getting frustrated. You could imagine her, hand down her panties, fingers circling around her clit, slick dampening the fabric of her pants as she watched you, and fuck did that turn you on even more.

You felt yourself tightening around your fingers, breaths quickening as you slowly began to reach your orgasm, back arching as you pumped faster. You’d usually start moaning out Jinx’s name by now, begging for her, like clockwork, but just to fuck with her, you didn’t. You just let out more breathy, loud moans as you just about reached your climax. Gods, you were right there, just barley over the edge, so fucking close, all it took was one more pump—

Then suddenly, a body pounced on the bed, hand gripped onto your wrist, forcefully pulling out your two fingers. Your eyes flew open, darting towards the hand grabbing your arm. It led to none other than Jinx, who was grabbing onto you so hard that you could feel her nails creating dents in your skin. She had a twisted expression on her face, her big eyes vibrant and violet, upper lip curled up, almost like she was getting ready to snarl before tearing you the fuck up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, doll face?”

The corners of your mouth curled up into a smirk, holding eye contact, trying your best to stay calm and collected to piss her off even more. “What does it look like i’m doing?” That sarcastic sentence alone made her squeeze harder, slowly moving forward until she was hovering above you, face only centimeters away from yours.

“Well, it looks like you’re being a fuckin’ slut, since you’re asking.” She lowered down to your ear, breathing into you before she spoke, sending goosebumps throughout your body. “Do you get off to people watching you slut yourself out, hm?”

You shuddered, breath hitching before you spoke. “N-No.”

“No?!” Jinx said, her voice raising, eyebrows furrowing as she reached over, pulling the rope out from under your bed. Your eyes widened, a little from fear but mostly from excitement. You loved riling Jinx up, it made her unhinged, taking out all her pent up frustrations on you. “You’re not only a slut, but also a liar? Gimme a break, toots!”

Before you knew it, or could even help it, you were completely tied up. Hands tied behind your back, rope knotted up around your torso, thighs, and breasts, squeezing your body as your back pressed against the wall, exposed cunt spilling slick all over the sheets. There was a vibrator tied to the top of your cunt, continuously vibrating on your clit. You looked up at Jinx, bug eyed and whiny, hoping she’d at least whisper sweet nothings in your ear as she used you. “Oh, you poor thing!” She tutted tauntingly at your puppy face, whipping out her 10 inch light blue dildo.

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening, gulping hard before you forced a sentence out the best you could between your groans. “T-That… won’t fit inside!”

Jinx stared at it, tilting her head as if she was calculating how much your hole could actually handle. “Hmm.. looks like you’re gonna have to make it fit, princess!” She started, pressing the head of the toy against your hole, making you whimper out. “You didn’t call out to me before you, ya know,” She leaned in closer. “Say my name.”

You blinked at her command, remembering to pull yourself together the best you could, smirking before scoffing at her. “No.”

“Hah! Feelin’ bold, are we?” Jinx let out a dry laugh, pushing the toy in forcefully, as deep as it’d go. Your eyes shut tightly, a yelp escaping your lips as she did so, holding it by the base as your hole tried its best to stretch out for it. “Fine, you wanna play that game?” She pumped the toy in and out, rubbing against your g-spot, your hole tight around the silicone as she clicked the vibrator to the highest setting. You threw your head back, a loud groan escaping your lips as she began to completely wreck you, pushing the dildo in deeper and deeper with each pump until she damn near reached your cervix. Your toes curled, pupils shot, clawing at the wall as she did so. “Then let’s play, toots.”

You were fucked, you knew that, but it excited you more than winning the lottery. Jinx was pounding into you, feeding into your brattiness with every stroke of the toy, her other hand groping your breast, fondling it as she pinched your nipple. There were tears streaming down your face from overstimulation, babbling out, ‘I’m sorry!’, and ‘Didn’t mean to!’, and her personal favorite, ‘You’re too big!’. Your brain was blank, filled with nothing but the view of Jinx’s fat cock stuffed inside you, hazily looking at her as your pathetic, high pitched moans continued.

“Jeez, aren’t you supposed to be a brat? You’re just a big crybaby!” She said, rolling her eyes as she continued. One thing about Jinx though, as much as she acted like she didn’t like it, the more you sobbed and pleaded, the wetter she got. There was warm slick sticking between her thighs, her panties completely drenched in it, hips bucking the air and moaning out as she carefully watched your hole cream around the sucked in silicone.

“Hey,” She started, squishing your cheeks, forcing you to look at her and snap you out of your pleasure high. “Wanna see somethin’, sweet thing?” She asked, slipping the dildo out of you. You felt your built up cum dripping out of your hole, panting at the slight relief. She pulled away, beginning to slip out of her clothes. You watched as the pieces of cloth fell onto the floor, leaving her naked, cunt spread out and on display, her juices drooling off it. Your eyes were glued onto it, feeling the corners of your mouth water up. She smirked, snickering as she positioned her legs between yours, so close you could feel the heat radiating off her pussy. “This is what you did to me,” She toyed with her wetness, letting out moans as you looked up at her, face flushed. “Say my name.”

Your breathing quickened at the heat, looking at her with glassy eyes. “W-Why?”

“Because,” She started, her clit inching closer, just barely rubbing up against your slit. Your eyes rolled back, groaning out from her slight touch. “I wanna hear you yearn for me. I wanna know it’s me who you want to watch you, touch you, fuck you. Want your mind filled with nothing but me,” She pushed her cunt onto yours, her clit pressed up against the vibrator, wetness mixing into one as a whiny moan escaped her lips. “C’mon, just wanna hear my favorite girl call out for her Jinx—”

Your back arched, cutting her off the second she rolled her hips on your cunt, shuddering breaths escaping your lips before you moaned out, “Jinx!”

Fuck, did that do it for her. She threw her head back, pussy fully pressed onto yours now, her needy clit rubbing up and down against the toy and your drippy hole. “That’s it, what a good girl!” She praised. Her rocking hips pushed the vibrator deeper against your bud, sending shooting jolts all throughout your body, crying out from the overwhelming feeling. In that moment, she couldn’t have given less than a fuck about your tears, reaching over to lick them up, leaving slobber all over your face as she continued. “F-Fuck, you taste so good, can’t ever get enough of you!”

“‘S too much, Jinx, please! G-Gonna—Mmh! Come again, puhlease! H-Hurts! Jinx, Jinx, Jinx!” You cried out, your sentence chopped up with moans and whimpers, making her own noises grow louder. Your sex with Jinx was loud, squelching noises from both sopping cunts rubbing together, the constant moans from the both of you overlapping each other, the two of you equally as greedy for more.

“Y-Yeah? It hurts, you poor, poor girl,” She cooed mockingly, tugging on the rope pressing against your chest, pulling you in closer. “Tell me, you like when I watch you fuck yourself?”

You were barely able to force any words out now, completely lost in her, drool dripping down your jaw as you stared at her with lowered, fucked out eyes. “I c-come at the thought of—of you watching me!”

She let out a shuddery moan at your response, your words swirling around in her mind, feeling herself getting closer. “Who do you belong to, doll? C’mon, tell me, c’mon…!”

“I-I belong to-” Your sentence was cut short by your orgasm hitting you like a wave, quick and by surprise, screaming out, “Jinx!”

Cum dripped out of your hole once more and along her cunt, feeling her body tense up against yours, her grip tightening against the rope as her orgasm soon followed yours. Jinx’s moans became whiny mews, breathing hitched, her thighs quivering as she opened herself up to get a good angle of where exactly she’d want to come on you, her fluids landing on your pussy as she finished, making you feel all warm and fuzzy. You were completely drenched and drunk off her cum, wishing she’d reward you for taking it so well by letting you clean her up.

A string of cum followed Jinx’s cunt as she pulled away, making your cheeks flare up. “Gods, look at that…” Her hand traveled south, spreading herself open and cutting the string with her fingers, sticking them in her mouth to savor your mixed juices. Your jaw dropped, completely taking your breath away as you blushed harder. She cackled at your expression. “You should stop that, you know it turns me on when you look vulnerable.” She said as she laid next to you, panting while you sat there, wriggling within the ropes and whimpering out. “J-Jinx…”

“Oh, shit, silly me!” She sat up, snickering as she turned off the vibrator, your body finally being allowed to relax. You were sore everywhere, the ropes pinching your skin, panting like a dog who desperately needed water. “You took it so well, my favorite, perfect girl!” She said, loosening up the knots as she grinned at you, poking your nose mid untying. “Doesn’t take much to admit that you belong to me, right?” You smiled back proudly, looking like a puppy who was expecting a treat. She raised an eyebrow at your expression, finger moving your jaw up to look at her. She kissed your lips softly, tongue sliding into your mouth as your tongues pressed against one another. She pulled away, staring into your eyes. “What? Puppy want a treat?” She said, half jokingly.

You nodded as she freed your hands, the first thing they gripped onto was her torso, kisses trailing down her stomach. She moaned, biting onto her bottom lip. “Alright, alright… Go ahead and clean me up, will ya, baby girl?”

[kiwriteswords]

Why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words [Aaron Hotchner x Best Friend!Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 5k|| AN: This is inspired by the song You are in love by Taylor Swift...legit...my favorite piece I've written <3 Tags/Warnings: female reader, established relationship, sexual themes, mdni, no smut, but mentions of sex, yearning!Hotch, in love!hotch, best friends, Intimacy, this is INTIMATE, Hotch's POV, Sad!Hotch, Jack Hotchner is mentioned, Haley Hotchner is mentioned, 5+1, alcohol tw, ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD PEOPLE, Reader cannot cook to save her life, free-spirit!reader, reader struggles to open up sometimes Summary: 5 Times Aaron Hotchner realizes you're his best friend + 1 time he tells you.

I. 

The bullpen had long since emptied.

Desks abandoned, lights dimmed. The hum of the vending machines below, the faint buzz of the overhead fluorescents—

Those were the only sounds keeping him company now.

Aaron sat in his office, perched over files like they held secrets no one else could see. The rest of the team had told him to go home, told him the case was done. Closed. Wrapped neatly in bureaucratic red tape.

But something still gnawed at him.

Something still didn’t sit right. He didn’t often get this feeling, but when he had an itch, he just had to scratch it.

Obsessively, almost. 

He rubbed at his temple, willing the creeping headache to back off. His eyes burned from staring too long at reports that no longer blurred together but formed patterns he wasn’t convinced were coincidence.

Rossi had chuckled earlier, slapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, "You're overtired, Aaron. Let it go."

Morgan had shot him a grin, all charm and ease, "Man, you're gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep picking this apart."

Emily, exasperated but fond, had tossed over her shoulder as she left, "Get some sleep, Hotch. You’ve earned it."

He almost believed them. 

Almost.

Until you walked in. Quiet, unassuming—

But so damn steady.

You didn't say much at first. Just nudged open the door with your hip, balancing an entire pot of coffee like it was some peace offering. 

Like you already knew he wouldn’t leave. 

Knew he wouldn’t rest until whatever weight clung to his shoulders shook free.

“I figured,” you said simply, setting the pot down beside his untouched cup. “If you’re going to obsess over this all night, you’ll need caffeine.” Settling in across from him, still in your clothes from the jet. Your blouse slightly wrinkled, “And company.” You smiled

He couldn’t help the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You always knew exactly how to read him—

Without making him feel like a project. 

Like something broken that needed fixing.

You didn’t ask questions or try to talk him down. Instead, you grabbed one of the files strewn across his desk, slid into the chair across from him, and got to work.

He watched for a second longer than he should’ve. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear absentmindedly, the soft furrow in your brow as you read, lips parting just slightly when something caught your attention. There was no complaint, no impatience—

Just that quiet, unwavering presence you always seemed to bring.

Time blurred. Reports shuffled between you both, punctuated by the occasional sip of coffee and the rustle of paper. Midnight came and went.

And still, you stayed.

Eventually, Hotch leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. His gaze drifted back to you. You looked up then, catching him mid-thought, eyes curious.

“What’s with the funny look?” you asked lightly, a small smile playing at your lips.

He swallowed.

Shook his head, “Nothing,” he said softly, almost too quickly.

But the truth sat heavy in his chest, undeniable.

Because somewhere between the case files, the stale coffee, and the quiet understanding you offered without asking for anything in return—

It hit him.

You were his best friend.

Not just his partner, not just his girlfriend. 

His person.

The one who stayed. Who understood. Who saw every sharp edge, every obsessive tendency, and chose to be here anyway.

He wondered briefly if it showed on his face—

If you could see how the realization cracked something open in him.

But you just smiled again, tilting your head, and went back to the file without pressing.

That was another reason why.

He exhaled, forcing his eyes back down to the paperwork, but his focus was already elsewhere.

"You're my best friend."

He didn’t say it aloud.

Not yet. 

But the thought lingered—

Settled somewhere deep, where it would stay warm until he was ready.

II.

Saturday mornings had never looked quite like this.

Aaron stood leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, coffee cup in hand, as he watched you work. Or—more accurately—watched you try not to set his kitchen on fire.

You’d insisted. Insisted that after the week they’d all had, you’d cook breakfast. 

Something nice, you promised.

He hadn’t reminded you of that conversation months ago, where you admitted with no shame whatsoever that cooking wasn’t exactly your strength.

You were nothing if not determined.

And now, as he watched from a safe distance, Aaron wondered if it was possible to burn bacon and undercook it at the same time.

The smell of something acrid mixed with the faint scent of coffee as you plated… well, whatever attempt had survived the pan. Eggs scrambled into something that resembled the theme of a Dr. Suess novel. Bacon blackened on the ends, yet suspiciously soft in the middle. And the toast—charred just enough to set off the smoke alarm if you weren’t careful.

Jack, ever the polite little man, sat at the table with his fork poised, eyeing the plate in front of him with the same caution he reserved for vegetables.

You, for your part, plopped down beside him, trying valiantly to act like the mess wasn’t as bad as it looked.

Aaron bit the inside of his cheek, lips twitching, fighting back the laugh threatening to bubble out of him.

You poked at your eggs, then braved a bite—

Only to grimace so subtly he almost missed it.

Jack glanced between you both, unsure whether to risk saying anything.

The silence stretched—

Until you finally gave up, setting your fork down dramatically with a sigh.

“I think I’ve just committed a crime against breakfast,” you muttered, looking at your plate like it personally offended you.

You glanced over at Aaron, catching the barely-contained amusement in his eyes.

“I like it better when you cook anyway,” you added, soft but sweet, as if it were some confession.

That did it.

The laugh escaped before he could stop it. A real, genuine, rare laugh—

Deep, warm, and unguarded. 

He hadn’t even realized how tight his chest felt until it loosened.

Jack blinked at him, then giggled too, relief flashing across his face.

“We should’ve had ice cream,” Jack piped up, earnest as ever. “For breakfast.”

Without missing a beat, you nodded, “You know what, you’re right. We should’ve.”

Aaron shook his head, still smiling, still trying to school his face into something more neutral but failing miserably.

You reached over, ruffling Jack’s hair as he beamed at you, already forgetting about the eggs.

And there it was again—

That look. 

That tightening in his throat. 

That weight in his chest.

He’d known for a long time now that he loved you. That much had settled quietly between you both, something unshakable and steady.

But sitting here, watching you laugh with Jack, watching you fold so seamlessly into the spaces of his life—the messy, imperfect spaces—hit differently. 

Hit harder.

It wasn’t just love.

It wasn’t just partnership.

It was the way you’d become part of his family without ever asking him to be anything other than himself.

It was the way you burned toast and still made Saturday mornings feel lighter.

The way you looked at Jack like he was yours too.

The way you looked at him like all of this—the chaos, the quiet, the sharp edges—was enough.

"You’re my best friend."

The thought lodged somewhere deep, solid and true.

You caught him staring again, gave him a quizzical look, eyebrows raised.

“What?” you asked, playful. “That bad, huh?”

He shook his head, still smiling, voice soft,  “No. Not bad at all.”

You didn’t press. Just gave him one of those grins that could unravel anyone if they let it.

Aaron glanced at the mess of plates, the laughter still hanging in the air, and decided he didn’t care if breakfast had been a disaster.

He had everything he needed right here.

III.

The case had wrapped, mercifully.

Suspect caught. Papers signed. Local PD…satisfied. As satisfied as they can be.

What should’ve been a relief, though, left Aaron gritting his teeth as he loaded into the car.

The jet was down for maintenance.

A mechanical issue, they'd said.

Nothing serious—

But serious enough to leave the team stranded with no choice but to drive back.

Hours on the open road, split between borrowed cars, all scattered in twos.

Rossi had made a crack about how it was probably some cosmic sign they all needed to "slow down and enjoy the journey."

Aaron didn’t find that amusing.

The idea of spending hours locked in a car didn’t exactly relax him. He liked efficiency. Control. Time maximized, not wasted. He would’ve preferred the jet.

But as it turned out, the universe had one mercy left:

You were the one riding with him.

Something about lovebirds sticking together, Derek encouraged. 

At first, the quiet settled easily—

Your presence something familiar and grounding, the way it always was. He focused on the road, tuning into the faint hum of classic rock spilling from the speakers. Something he'd put on more out of habit than anything else.

Five minutes in, he noticed.

The soft, off-key hum coming from the passenger seat.

He flicked his eyes over briefly.

You were singing—

Badly.

And you weren’t trying to hide it, either.

So unapologetically you. The you he loved. 

Adored.

The corners of his mouth threatened to tug upwards.

This wasn’t your kind of music. He knew that. But you’d asked once what he listened to on long drives, and he’d told you. And now here you were, nodding your head to the rhythm, mouthing lyrics. 

He let himself glance at you longer than he should have, the road stretching ahead endlessly.

The way you tapped your fingers against your thigh, how you kept stealing glances at him between verses to see if he was paying attention.

You made the hours not so bad.

Actually—

You made them...good.

His best friend. 

The thought slid in again, unbidden, familiar now. 

His grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly.

Hours passed. Conversation came easy with you—

Quiet stretches filled with comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sarcastic quip or comment that had him biting back a smile.

Eventually, at some point well into the drive, you insisted they switch. He pulled off at a rest stop without much argument, trusting you with the wheel.

For a while, he buried himself in a case file, pen scratching, his brows knit as the miles slipped by. 

Until something small tugged at his attention.

The GPS.

You weren’t following it.

He glanced up. Frowned slightly.

“Where are you going?” he asked, tone calm but curious, almost suspicious.

You shot him a grin, eyes fixed on the road, “Trust me.”

Those two words.

They had more weight than you probably knew.

Aaron almost replied, almost protested—

Until he saw you slow, flicking on your blinker, pulling into a near-empty parking lot.

His frown deepened.

The ocean stretched out just beyond the sand dunes, gray and shimmering under a setting sun. The air still held that early spring bite, not warm enough to be here, not really. The waves looked brutal, frothy, cold.

You parked, throwing the car into park before looking at him expectantly.

“Come on,” you said, already reaching for the door handle.

He blinked,  “Are you serious?”

You didn’t answer. Just slipped out of the car like it was the most natural thing in the world, gravel crunching under your feet. He watched, momentarily stunned, as you kicked off your shoes without hesitation and darted toward the sand.

It took him longer to move.

You were already down the slope, the wind catching your hair, your jacket flapping behind you. You ran—

Ran like no one was watching.

Spinning in lazy circles, arms stretched wide, laughing at nothing at all.

The sky was streaked in pinks and blues, the sun kissing the edge of the horizon.

And there you were.

So carefree, so alive—

As if the week you’d just had hadn’t happened at all.

Aaron swallowed thickly, pulse strange in his ears.

You looked like something he’d forgotten he could want.

Youthful. Joyful. Unburdened.

How the hell did you always know?

Finally, he shoved open the door, hands in his pockets as he made his way toward you.

You caught sight of him as you turned—grinned—and without warning, ran straight back, crashing into him like a force of nature. A ball of warmth and energy, breathless and glowing.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

You looked up at him, wind whipping strands of hair across your face.

“So I’ve been told.”

And before he could offer some other dry remark, you leaned up and kissed him—

Quick but firm, like it was the only logical response.

It was. 

He felt himself smile against your lips despite the cold. Despite everything.

I love you, you’re my best friend. 

The words echoed loud in his chest, clearer than ever before.

You had dragged him out of his head, out of the grind and exhaustion, into this moment. A simple, ridiculous detour—

But perfect in its absurdity.

He held you a little tighter, burying his nose in your hair, breathing you in.

Yeah.

You knew exactly what he needed.

You always did.

IV.

You didn’t fight often.

Rarely, in fact.

It wasn’t necessary.

You understood him—

Almost unnervingly well. 

The rhythms, the silences, the unspoken things he kept close to his chest. You moved alongside him like you'd been doing it your whole life, sidestepping the need for arguments before they ever gained traction.

Which made it all the worse when it happened.

He could still hear the edge in his own voice, the sharpness he never liked to use with you. It had started small. A briefing after a long case. You’d been quiet—too quiet—until finally you told him.

The Bureau had offered you a temporary undercover role.

A weekend. One week, tops.

A specialized operation, short turnaround.

You were perfectly qualified. More than capable. He knew that. Respected it.

And still—

He’d felt something ugly twist inside.

It wasn’t rational.

It wasn’t professional.

It was personal.

But instead of telling you that, instead of stripping down the mask of pride and control he always wore, he’d deflected. Asked if you were sure. If it was worth it. If you understood the risk—questions he had no business asking, because you knew damn well what you were doing.

You bickered—

Circling each other in familiar patterns, but the undercurrent felt different this time. 

Tense. 

Frustrated.

He wanted to tell you not to go.

He wanted to tell you he couldn’t stand the idea of you gone, out there without him, without knowing if you’d be safe.

But what came out instead was clipped remarks, deflections.

And pride. Always pride.

He'd watched as your expression shifted—tired, maybe even a little hurt—but resolute. You were going.

You had to.

And he couldn’t blame you. Wouldn’t.

Not when he respected the hell out of who you were and what you were capable of.

But God, he’d looked at you then. Looked at you with something you didn’t seem to recognize.

That look.

The one he’d caught himself giving you before.

The one you hadn’t figured out yet.

I love you. You're my best friend.

He hadn't said it.

Couldn't.

Thought it juvenile, silly. 

What grown man confessed something like that out loud?

So he let the argument fizzle, let you walk away to pack, and found himself alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling like it might offer him some clarity.

It didn’t.

The bed felt empty without you.

The space beside him cold, unfamiliar.

He tossed. Turned. Listened to the muffled sounds of traffic outside, wondering where you were at that exact moment—

What role you’d slipped into, how you were carrying yourself, who was around to watch your back.

He didn’t like feeling powerless.

Didn’t like this ache in his chest that he couldn’t quiet, no matter how many case files he’d tried to bury himself in earlier.

And the longer he laid there, sleepless and restless, the more one thought threaded itself deeper:

You’re my best friend.

He couldn’t shake it.

He thought about Haley, briefly.

How much he’d loved her. His wife. Jack’s mother. High school sweetheart. First…everything, pretty much. 

But it wasn’t the same.

This—you—felt different.

With you, he never had to stop being himself.

You never asked him to shrink or soften the sharp edges. Never expected him to be anything other than exactly who he was.

You laughed at his dry, quiet humor—

The kind that others barely caught.

Matched it sometimes, firing back quips that no one else would dare say but always made him bite back a smirk.

You knew his next move before he did.

 Knew the reasons behind the things he didn’t verbalize.

And you let him be.

You got him.

He wondered, lying there, when exactly you’d become his person.

Wondered if he’d ever really had a best friend before you.

The age difference between his brother and him. The forced parentified self he became around his brother, never allowed room for friendship. 

Sure, in passing there were coworkers he trusted--relied on--the job pretty much called for it. But he’s not sure he’d consider Derek Morgan his best friend. He’s not sure he could call up a former body from his prosecutor days and expect them to put the type of smile you put on his face. 

It was so much more than just love, romance, and companionship with you. He’s pretty sure he will spend the rest of his life trying to put into words what it is you do to him. For him. 

His best friend. 

It felt childish, stupid even, to think of it in those terms.

But there it was.

 Simple.

True.

You were the one he wanted to tell everything to.

The one whose absence left something hollow in his chest.

The one he loved.

The one who knew him.

His best friend.

And somehow, that realization cut deeper than any argument ever could.

V. 

He hadn't expected moving boxes and takeout containers to feel this monumental.

It was simple, really. Tiring. The kind of day that usually left him cranky and sore, mind already drifting to paperwork or tomorrow's responsibilities.

But tonight?

Tonight was different.

Your things were here now—

Intermingled with his. Coats hanging beside his in the closet. Your books tucked beside his on the shelves. Your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, like it had always belonged there.

Aaron sat slouched on the living room couch, one arm lazily draped across the back, the other holding the nearly empty wine glass he’d been nursing. You were curled beside him, legs tangled with his, eyes heavy-lidded but bright. The bottle and a half of wine you’d worked through sat forgotten on the table next to the half-eaten boxes of Chinese food, now cold.

Jack had fallen asleep easily hours ago, his laughter still lingering faint in the air. Like the whole apartment felt lighter just from the two of you being here, together, as if something had finally clicked into place.

The music played low, some soft jazz station crackling through the speakers.

Neither of you said much for a while. Just occasional glances. The gentle brush of your foot against his calf. Comfortable silence.

Until you broke it, voice soft and a little slurred at the edges.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He quirked a brow, glancing over at you,  “Haven’t we covered all the bases?”

You smiled, lazy and loose, shaking your head, “Humor me.”

So you traded stories—

Small things at first. 

Embarrassing childhood memories. Weird quirks. The first concert you ever went to. He laughed at that, genuinely, the wine and exhaustion making it easier to let go.

And then you asked.

“What’s your biggest fear, Aaron?”

The question knocked something loose in his chest.

He blinked, caught off guard, searching your face.

You watched him carefully, but there was no pressure there. Just curiosity. Openness.

He hesitated. Briefly. 

And you caught it.

You shifted, sitting up just slightly, balancing your wine glass on the armrest. There was something in your eyes now—

Not just the buzz of the alcohol, but that same steady, fearless look you had walking into danger. 

Brave. Direct.

You licked your lips, almost nervous, but not backing down,  “I’ll go first,” you said, voice quieter now.

He didn’t interrupt, letting you have the space.

You took a breath.

“My biggest fear is losing you.” Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, eyes fixed on some invisible spot on the floor, “or Jack.”

You laughed under your breath—wet, almost self-deprecating—but when you looked back at him, your gaze was raw.

“I’ve never had this before,” you continued, voice cracking just slightly. “Never had…someone who sees me. All of me. Good, bad, messy. And it scares the hell out of me how much I don’t want to lose it.”

His throat felt tight, the words catching somewhere. It wasn’t the wine making him feel choked up—

It was you.

The sheer honesty of it. The fact that even after all this time, you still managed to surprise him.

He set his glass down carefully, reaching over to catch your hand, fingers threading through yours.

“It’s the same,” he admitted, voice low. Rough. He swallowed, “losing you. Losing this. I never—” He paused, trying to find the right words, the ones sitting heavy in his chest. “I never want to lose you. And I’ll do everything I can to keep you. To keep both of you.”

You smiled softly at him, eyes glassy from the wine, the flush on your cheeks making you look impossibly angelic, impossibly his.

“You’re stuck with me now,” you teased, voice playful but laced with something tender. Then, almost mischievously, you added, “You know…you’re kind of my favorite person.”

He huffed a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head, but the weight of it—

God, it hit him hard.

You leaned in without hesitation, lips finding his, and the kiss tasted like fruit and something deeper.

Something permanent.

It wasn’t hurried.

It wasn’t messy.

It was moving.

All the weight of the day, the exhaustion, the vulnerability, poured into it.

When you finally pulled back, breath warm against his cheek, he stayed still—

Eyes opening slowly, wanting to just look at you.

Soak you in forever. And even after that. Even after forever ended, he’s sure he’d still want more. 

You smiled, lazy and soft, and asked, “What’s that look for?”

He almost told you.

Almost let the words slip—

The ones he’d been feeling for months now, lodged deep in his chest every time you smiled at him, every time you laughed with Jack, every time you made his world feel brighter without even trying.

My best friend.

But instead, he shook his head faintly, voice quiet. 

“I’m just thinking about you.”

You grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw, before pulling back, eyes glinting mischievously despite the wine haze.

“Well…” you murmured, voice dipping lower, lips brushing against his ear. “Now that we live together…want to go try out the bed properly?”

His breath caught.

Yeah.

He liked that idea.

Very much.

+1

The bedroom was dark, save for the faint orange glow of streetlights filtering through the blinds. The occasional sound of a car passing below, the whisper of tree branches rustling against the windowpane—

Small things grounding him in the moment.

Aaron lay still, one arm wrapped tightly around you, the sheets tangled somewhere near his waist. Your head rested against his chest, breath steady, soft against his skin. The warmth of your body pressed close, leg draped lazily over his, completely relaxed in sleep.

It should’ve been easy for him to follow you there.

Sleep usually came fast after nights like this—

Hours spent wrapped up in you, nothing held back, every piece of himself laid bare.

But tonight…

He couldn’t.

Not when it felt like something inside him might split wide open.

Because he had never had this before.

Not like this.

He stared up at the ceiling, his fingers trailing absently along the curve of your back, and let the thoughts come.

You.

God, you.

These days, that’s what lived in his brain rent free. 

You’d slipped into his life like you’d always been meant to be there, like some force had been quietly working all along to bring you to him when he needed you most.

He never imagined things could line up this perfectly.

Never imagined that after everything—loss after loss, disappointment after disappointment—something so good, so magnetic, would land right in front of him.

Aligning everything. 

And stay.

You saw him.

You understood him in ways that no one else ever had. You didn’t flinch at the sharp edges, didn’t ask him to be softer or less guarded. You laughed at his dry, humorless jokes. Knew when to challenge him, when to let him be.

And the longer he lay there, the more it hit him:

You made him better.

Not by changing him.

But by showing him how to be—

How to trust, how to let himself breathe, how to love without the weight of past mistakes crushing him.

He swallowed, feeling it heavy in his chest.

You were his best friend.

His person.

His love.

The words sat so close to the surface he could hardly contain them.

And as if you sensed it, felt him turning them over in the dark, you shifted slightly against him—

Your hand tightening faintly on his chest, head nuzzling into his neck.

Your voice came out low, rough with sleep, but soft, “Aaron…why are you awake?”

He looked down, catching the faint outline of your face in the shadows.

The way you smiled at him—

Groggy, tender, like he was something precious.

That look.

The same one you always gave him when you caught him staring, trying to memorize this exact feeling.

He brushed his hand up to your cheek, thumb tracing along your temple.

For once, he didn’t hesitate.

“I was just thinking,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. 

You hummed softly in question, eyes still half-lidded, waiting.

He swallowed.

Felt the words lodge in his throat, thick and almost too big to say—but needing to be said all the same.

“You’re my best friend,” he finally said, voice low and sure. His hand cradled your face gently, as if he needed you to feel the weight of it.

You blinked at him, surprised, brow furrowed slightly like you didn’t quite understand what he meant—

Why it sounded so much more significant than it seemed.

He continued, his voice quieter but unwavering, “I love you. You know that. But it’s more than that.” His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “I’ve never met anyone who made me want to tell them everything. Who I wanted to know me—all of me. And you…you do. You know me. You handle me better than I know how to handle myself sometimes.”

You stared at him, eyes glassy, lips parted faintly, breath catching as he went on.

“I want to know everything about you. Every story, every thought you’ve never told anyone.” He swallowed, pulling you a little closer. “I never want to stop.”

There was something shining in your eyes now, even in the dim light. Something soft and stunned, but glowing.

“You make me a better person,” he whispered finally, voice almost breaking. “You’re my best friend.”

For a moment, the silence stretched—

Nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling in the dark.

Then you smiled.

So big, so full of something unspoken, eyes glassy but sure.

You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and fierce. Like you wanted to pour all the words you couldn’t form right now into him.

When you pulled back, you gave him a lazy, flirtatious grin despite the emotion lingering behind it.

“Well…” your voice was thick, teasing but tender, “...how about we make use of that bed again, now that we’re a couple who shares absolutely everything?”

He laughed softly—really laughed—and let himself kiss you like he was holding the whole world in his hands.

Because maybe he was.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

MY GIRL, MY GIRL. ( HOTD x READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! I'm still figuring out how to write him as I mostly do Aegon ( cuz he's highly requested and a part of my fanfic ) <3 pairing: Lord Cregan Stark x Lady Blackwood! Reader prompt : based off kinda enemies to lovers vibe, and angst. word count: 1, 000+ words I owe a million flowers to @swordgrace and @venusbyline for helping me characterize / understanding how to write Cregan with their amazing writing!

Mayhaps, it was a Northern trait for Cregan to be the way he was. He was a gruff man, loyal to his core, towering over you by a solid foot⎯you swore he was part giant⎯and emotions so cold that it was hard to read. You had thought he was smitten, or at least appeared to be smitten in his own Stark way, with your older sister Alysanne Blackwood. He showed the signs for it. 

He certainly had more banter with her than you, witty comebacks and light-hearted insults⎯the kind of things that no Lord would let any Lady say without some form of punishment. His eyes always flickered to her first when he entered a room, like she was the only person that mattered to him. He smiled, a rare thing, with her. Hells, he offered his hand whenever she needed to enter a carriage. He treated her a whole lot better than he did with you.

He was cold with you, grunts and short one word answers. He never looked at you, not unless it was absolutely needed. He always had an icy look on his face, almost as if being around you made him upset. He never offered to help you, not even a polite hand when you needed to enter a carriage. It appeared as if you were the bane of his existence. 

It was a surprise when he gruffly asked for your maidenhead, his odd, or mayhaps just the blunt Northern way, of asking to Court you. Of course, you had slapped him across the face at such a crude attempt of courting. Embarrassed that he would dare to say such a thing in Court, surrounded by your fellow nobles, who found Northern customs scandalous.

Not to mention, a tiny part of you was hurt that he would dare ask to Court you after his previous rude treatment towards you. You would not be a second choice. Nor the replacement for your sister. You wanted a man to want you for you, not because you just ‘happened to be there’. Cregan Stark would have to work for your hand, if he truly wished to have if because he wanted it⎯not because he couldn’t have your sister.

Glaring him down from where you stand, the palm of your hand still tingles from the force of your hand connecting with his cheek, your face flushing a soft pink from embarrassment. How dare he say such a thing, to you, in public nonetheless. Could he have not waited until they were out of Court, or preferably alone with not a soul around?

The bright red handprint glows on his pale cheek, the contrast bright and violent with the look on your face. It made your gut churn, from shame at striking him, and anger for being pushed into it. They would surely gossip of this, the Wolf of the North struck in the face by Lady ( Y/N ) Blackwood after he asked for her maidenhead.

“I am not some breeding mare.” You snap, face burning a brighter red.

“Aye,” He grins cheekily, “You’re a Lady.”

“Exactly, I am one, and I demand to be treated as one. A proper one. Not like the way you savages do in the North.” You argue, attempting to defend your honor in front of the honor lookers.

“Where I come from, a simple ‘no’  would suffice.” He narrows his eyes, the cheeky grin on his lips curling into a scowl.

“Where you come from, people bathe in the river and use pine cones for coin.” You snap back, earning a booming noise from him. 

Flinching at the booming sound, it wasn’t quite a curse of anger, nor a growl. It was almost like a laugh? Was he laughing? Or attempting to laugh? Furrowing your brows in confusion at the strange noises coming from him, his chest racks up and down like he was laughing. But, his face was curled into a hard to interpret look. It was not quiet amusement, nor anger, nor anything really. He was odd, made more of ice than man. 

“What in the seven hells is that?" You blubber, taken aback by his odd laughter.

“You are bold." He chuckles, a grin spreading on his lips.

“And you are mad,” You shake your head, “Especially after saying such a thing to me."

"I asked for your maidenhead." He states bluntly, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"Yes, and you're mad if you think this is how you ask a Lady to Court you." You scoff, "I do not understand how you may do things in the North, but here in the South, we do not⎯"

"You are prude's, hiding behind poetry and longing looks. If you want a woman, you say so, not linger around when another can take her."

True, to a point. But, there was something rather sweet of a man taking the time to spout out sweet poetry, gifting roses, longing for your hand, or doing romantic gestures just to appease you. You had seen men do the same for other Ladies of the Court, and were a tad bit envious of it. That was what you sought out, craved for, pleaded for in a man to do to court you just as any other Lady would. Not grunts, glares, and rude behavior. 

Hells, those were the type of antics that would make your older sister, Alysanne, throw her small clothes in lust. She always fancied a more gruff, brooding man compared to you. You had imagined her marrying a Stark, or a Greyjoy. While you settled for a Tyrell or Arryn, a gentler man. Cregan Stark would have better luck courting her than with you. They were alike, in mind and behavior. They’d make the perfect couple. 

"And you think that I want you? That I would accept it, accept your, after everything you have said and done to me?" You argue, shaking your head with a scoff.

“I was courting you.” He states, as if it was the most obvious thing.

“That is courting to you? Treating me poorly?” You scoff, “Hells, you may as well stab me and call that courting.”

“And if I did, would you accept?” He asks, making your face flush.

“No!” You snap, voice raising.

Seven hells and heavens above, it was like talking to a stone wall. No, it was worse than talking to a stone wall. At least, with a stone wall would listen to what you were saying. Shutting your eyes for a moment, you force yourself to take a deep breath in, hands curling into fists at your side.

Opening your eyes, you clench your jaw tightly, cheeks flushed a bright pink from anger. You wished to strangle him, to shove his head in the snow until his face was blue. Mayhaps, then he would understand just what you were trying to say. Though, he’d probably see it as you flirting back with him considering how brutish Northern customs seemed to be. 

“Were you dropped on your head as a babe?” You huff annoyed, “What makes you think that this is the way to Court a Lady?”

“My Father did the same with my mother.” He narrows his eyes, offended by your words.

“Yes, mayhaps, half a century ago and with more charm than you.” You snap back, unable to stop the comment from slipping your tongue. 

“Watch your tongue.” He warns, his voice hardening.

“Or what?” You challenge, narrowing your eyes.

Staring you down with a cold face, you refuse to cower back from the argument, stubbornness keeping you firm in place. Puffing up his chest as he holds himself back, he leans down to your face, lips curled up into a thin line. Chewing on your bottom lip out of habit, you could feel his hot breath fanning your face, his gaze picking apart your features. He was infuriating. Handsome, but infuriating. Mayhaps, it would be better if he kept his mouth shut and stood there looking pretty.

“You are rejecting me?” He asks, his brows furrowing together.

“No,” You argue,“I would consider it, should you court me differently.”

“I am not reciting poetry.” He states without hesitation.

“I never said poetry, gods.” You roll your eyes, “Court me like other men do. Is it truly below you to attempt to send me letters, give me roses, or ride with me on horseback?”

“No.” 

“Then, be a man and properly court me.” You argue, standing up on your tippy toes to get in his face.

He stills, not saying a word. Narrowing your eyes at him, you slowly lower yourself back to the heels of your feet, tilting your head up to keep him in your gaze. It looks as if he understands, finally cowering away from you and the argument. Had you won? Relaxing at his silences, you open your mouth before closing it, choosing to let the silence end the argument. But, then a slow smile spreads on his lips. His grey eyes twinkling brightly..with joy? 

“You’re demanding.” He smirks, his voice dripping with amusement. 

“And you're too gruff.” You snip back, without hesitation.

“I like that.” He whips back, tilting his head to the side. 

“Good, because this is how I am and this is how I will be each time you fail to use good manners.” You counter back, “Understand?”

“Very.” He nods.

"Good, now go get me a rose." You huff, turning your back to him.

"Tis' winter, there are none."

"Then, find a way to get one." You argue, narrowing your eyes unimpressed.

---

this is a one and done kind of fic, cause i am trying to figure out how to write him, so enjoy it while i learn / grow! o

[goddessficlover]

Alice In Gotham Pt 2

  The Bats had been on edge that last 2 months, to put it lightly. Oracle was sure she heard movement above her in the clock tower. She had assumed it was one if the Bats but none of them moved that sloppily unless hurt. And yet, all their vitals looked fine on her monitors. She called Spoiler to check it out since she was the closest. What they found was nothing at all. Except the dust was unnatural. No foot prints or evidence of crawling. Like something had been dead there for a long period of time, then suddenly scrambled awake and disappeared. The way some of the dust was still settling when she got there was eerie and sent chills down the purple bat's spine. They set up a camera and motion detector to monitor the space, and after 2 months nothing came. Still, for Oracle’s sanity and Batman's paranoia, they left the camera there as a precaution.

Other than that, Gotham seemed to have less attacks, or crimes in general, than usual. Even crime alley, things were actually running. According to Intel, some homeless kid called Scraps was fixing things for small businesses and people who simply couldn't afford to replace things in exchange for food or pocket change. Sometimes he even did it for free if it was urgent. Not only that but apparently the kid could defend himself. Had saved a couple of the night girls from people who didn't understand the word “no”. They'd give him treats when he came by once in a while. Simple things like a lollipop or a granola bar. Concerningly though, they also said he'd eat it with the wrappers still on. Kid was eating actual trash to survive. That, meant Red Hood had to try and keep an eye on him. The problem was the kid kept fucking disappearing. No one knew where he was living, or if he even slept. Sometimes he'd be around early morning, or late at night. The kid had no schedule except for Sundays. When no one was watching the dump, he go and steal broken tech or salvage tools and other scraps. It was the only time Hood managed to get a glance at the kid. Didn't even need to be close because damn those blue eyes were bright, even under his hoodie. Fuck, that was adoption bait and the others were going to go nuts. Tying to follow Scraps back to his hide out was another loss, he completely disappeared around a corner as if he was never even there.

“Hold on, you said this kid works with tech but you can't catch him?” Red Robin asked.

“Nope, couldn't even find anything through the power grid. He might be working on something but he's not even using electricity for it. Or he somehow managed to get it while staying off the grid,” Red Hood responded. Red Robin was the last person he wanted to ask for help, but it had been 2 months, and this whole week not one person had been able to confirm if Scraps was around. No one had seen him since he said he had a job. Not Hood or Jason had been able to make contact since he first popped up in crime alley. At this point he was going to break his TV and hire the kid just to make sure they were okay. Kids disappearing was never a good sign. No one fucked with kids on his turf.

“Jason… what does the kid look like?” Red Robin sighed while working on the batcomputer to check crime alley more thoroughly.

  Taking a deep breath and sighing he spoke up, “Adoption bait.”

“We can not let B know about him,” Tim groaned as he drank out of a nearly empty coffee mug.

“B is not taking another kid to put into a suit. The kid’s mine to keep an eye out for,” Red Hood growled below his helmet before taking a breath, “Besides, with how smart the kid is, he'll probably get a scholarship to some school out here and end up at Wayne Enterprise anyway. He can wait a few years to meet him.”

“Hey boys,” Oracle chimed in from the Bat computer, “I've located the kid, he tends to make camera a little fuzzy around his face but those eyes are recognizable. He was spotted a week ago in the warehouse district. The same place we have a lead on scarecrow’s fear gas.”

“Fuck,” was all Red Hood said before getting back on his bike.

“Red Hood is going to investigate. Anything else you can find on him? Maybe a facial scan so we can get him back to his family?” Red Robin began going through the warehouse cameras to find which warehouse he went into, “Damn it, the same night as that storm? We can't get any good views after he entered Warehouse 56.”

“I'm going to check it out now,” Red Hood responded, “Keep B off my back. I don't want him involved, Scraps is my case.”

“I'll try, but you know he still makes mistakes with boundaries,” Oracle responded, “Should I call in Nightwing for you?”

“No, not yet. But fill him in. Something doesn't feel right about this. Red Hood out.”

—

  It took four days and about 24 renewed microchips for Hatter to keep Danny asleep. It frustrated him to no end that the chips kept wearing out after four hours. Eventually he decided some hypnosis was in order and asked the kid directly why It wasn't working.

“Regular tech doesn't respond well to my presence,” he answered soullessly.

“Really? How can you get it to work?” Hatter was surprised his Alice understood what was going on and how to fix it.

“It needs to be infused with my blood,” he answered a half truth. While under control his subconscious need to keep everything ghostly a secret somehow still came through.

“Is that all? That's so simple… Go back to sleep Alice. When you wake you will be perfect,” he ordered and Danny's eyes shut.

  Danny wasn't in anything impressive at the moment. A white night gown, plain and simple, while laying in a bed. They had moved from the warehouse to Hatter's hideout where he had access to all the tech he needed. Hatter wasn't happy to see the scars over Danny's body. His poor Alice had be hurt, been held captive by the looks of the marks on his wrists and ankles. A scar hidden in his freckles on the bridge of his nose along side others, Hatter could hide them with make up but still he felt distaste for who every damaged Alice’s face.

 In another day's time, Hatter had created a diadem with multiple chips throughout it's construction as a failsafe. All, infused with Danny's oddly green glowing blood. When it came time, his Alice was properly cleaned by the March Hare and her now finished dress was applied, along with the waterproof silver diadem. It locked into place, no simple tug off from Batman or any of the birds would work. It had to be completely unlocked to be removed. His Alice, harmed by someone else's touch was too precious to lose. It was a hard battle to get her fully under his control after all. He wasn't going to risk anything. He skin was already pale, pale like a porcelain doll. That was what this Alice was for. A doll to admire from afar for her beauty alone. Dressed in her sky blue dress with her white apron. Her puffed sleeves and white gloves to cover the scars on her wrists. Bloomers for added volume to the ruffle skirt, and of course the thigh high white socks with mary jane's shoes. A long blond wig with bangs to hide the diadem was placed on her head, another chip in the wig before the wig was glued down, as he didn't want to risk damaging her precious skin more than it was. instead Of a headband, A ribbon was tied into her hair instead. A porcelain Alice, one Hatter would keep by his side so as to not lose her.

His perfect Alice.

—

Staking out the warehouse didn't find Scraps, but they did find a surplus of fear gas being manufactured by scarecrow with what was the most efficient assembly line these goons could have put together. It was an easy take down when Nightwing and Spoiler joined in for a takedown to stop the plan to gas the city before it started. The goons were hardly a challenge, and Red Robin would be able to make a new antidote for the rebreathers incase there was another warehouse like this one. The one thing that caught their attention was a gutted microwave on display on a side table. Evidence Scraps was here. Fuck.

“What did you do to the kid?” Red Hood growled, grabbing one of the few conscious goons who had been ziptied.

“What kid?” Spoiler hadn't been let in on the Scraps case.

“Kid?” the goon looked confused.

“Scraps. What did you do to Scraps? He fixes tech to make money. You guys had him here. Tell me what you did with him or yours knees are going to bend in reverse,” Hood snarled and the guy pales.

“We hired him to fix the assembly line. Told him it was for screwing tops on bottles. Paid him and fed him. He pulled the microwave out of thin air, and used it to fix the motor or something. He left into the storm after we paid him,” the goons caved and Hood tossed him towards the pile of them where they were waiting for the police.

“So the only evidence of Scraps is a microwave he pulled out of thin air? How does that even work, it's a microwave. You can't just hide that thing. That's not even a little one, that one looks like it was built into the wall originally,” Nightwing looked at the microwave and used some light dust from his bag before brushing it away, “There's fingerprints all over. Mostly large ones, how small is Scraps?”

“Little smaller than Robin,” Red Hood answered.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, I have eyes on Scraps with Mad Hatter,” Oracle chimed him, and the tension in the warehouse rose, “3 days ago he's spotted leaving warehouse 64 with the March Hare and Scraps following.”

“Fuck,” Hood punched one the machines, as he processed the information. Scraps was pretty androgynous looking. Hatter usually preferred natural blonde but those glowing blue eyes probably drew his attention. A wig would be an easy fix, “Scan everywhere you can Oracle, if Hatter has him we’re on a time limit.”

“Littlewing,” Nightwing placed a hand on Hood’s shoulder, “We'll find Scraps. She- they can't be gone for long. Hatter never stops with just one Alice, he'll leave a trail and we'll follow it.”

“Red Robin, Oracle,” Hood spoke into his com, “Do you have any other leads to Hatter’s location?”

“No yet, but we'll keep searching,” Oracle answered.

“Can I get in on this Scraps case? The tower ghost is coming up dead,” Spoiler asked and Nightwing left to talk with the arriving officers who took the goons into custody.

  Red Hood sighed. He'd like to keep crime alley business out of the rest of Gotham, but this kid could be anywhere in Gotham now. He needed to keep an eye on Crime alley too. He needed more eyes, as reluctant as he wasn't to accept it, “Fine. You and Orphan are in because I know you will tell her anyway. Keep Robin and Batman out of it. Kid looks like adoption bait. Goes by Scraps on the streets, their real name is unknown.”

“Sound like so are their pronouns,” Spoiler laughed, “Well keep our eyes out for them. Send the case file to me and Orphan. I'll fill her in about tonight. Should we tell Duke?”

“No, not yet,” Red Hood answered, “He can't keep a secret from B if he thinks it’s serious. We might have to if we can't find any leads to check if he can see something we can't. Scraps’ eyes are blue, like they're glowing. It’s hard to miss.”

“So, their a meta in hiding?” Spoiler asked as she walked away.

“If they are, Batman is gonna be pissed,” Nightwing responded on come.

“B can fuck off. It's not like people chose to be metas, kid probably didn't even know and has no where else to go. I'm checking out warehouse 64,” Hood left, riding his bike to warehouse 64 where he found a mostly empty lot.

  There were a few forgotten things. Evidence of a tea party and a few discarded headbands. Timbit would be able to look at them later. What pissed Hood off to recognize the edging of green in his vision, was a discarded backpack, and clothes that had long since been hung to dry.

“I found Scraps personal belongings. He was here during the storm. His clothes are hung over a banister to dry. And his bag was left behind,” Hood opened the bag, two different tool boxes inside along with smaller parts of tech. Some snacks- a frozen apple?

“Spoiler might be right about this kid being a meta,” Hood spoke up.

“Really? What gave it away?” Spoiler responded through coms.

“I found an apple that's been frozen solid in a layer of frost in their bag along with tools and tech. They're an ice meta of some kind,” Hood examined the apple. The frost was intricate like lace and beautiful as it glistened in the moonlight. No evidence of melting at all. It was freezing to touch even through his reinforced gloves.

“But they left 3 days ago. How hasn't it melted?” Nightwing asked.

“Don't know but it's still cold. The kids got a bigass first aid kit in here too. Not even a water bottle. A frozen apple, three granola bars, and the rest is all tech or tools. He carries his work more than his survival supplies. He's got a place to stay somewhere but I haven't found it yet,” he put everything back into the back pack along with his clothes.

  For now, it was a dead end. They needed a new trail, a clue, but they'd have to wait. Still, the idea of a child younger than Robin in the hands of the Hatter, it made Red Hood’s stomach churn something ugly as he fought back against the pit. When they found Jervis Tetch, he'd have first dips on punching the guy so hard he'd have to get replacement buck teeth.

—

Alice was still odd to Mad Hatter. She was under his control and the chips were no longer dying out. However there were small things she did. He complained about the temperature of the room being too high, and suddenly the room cooled while her eyes glowed even brighter. He never ordered her too, she did it on her own. She wasn't programed for that. He mentioned finding another girl to dress up  Alice disappeared from his side and reappeared 20 minutes later with an unconscious woman in her arms. Blond hair, and blue eyes. Again, he never ordered her to do so. And yet, Hatter only felt glee as he realized his Perfect Alice could do more than his henchmen ever could in a very fast amount of time. But the best part was when he asked her to disappear for two minutes and she turned invisible right in front of him. His buck toothed smile was mad as he had a tool he'd never had before. A silent Alice who was as skilled in shadows and she was in the light. An Alice the bats couldn't follow back.

“Alice, my wonderful Alice, you are more than I have imagined. We are going to send some invitations soon. So for now, go rest in bed. Your mission will be ready by tomorrow night,” Mad Hatter grinned, “I have a Tea Party to plan for a special guest!”

---

  A girl was reported missing, blonde hair and blue eyes. But no evidence of a break in what so ever. No locks were touched, only the bed where she had been sleeping was touched. Nothing on the camera aside from the quality being fuzzy. Odd, those should be updated cameras. This one may have to be replaced, or there was someone altering the feed. Oracle has yet to find evidence of tampering with the cameras. By appearance alone, one suspect on Batman’s list was Mad Hatter. He'd have to keep track of other kidnappings of women with similar appearances to be sure.

With nothing left to examine at the scene, Batman moved on. Robin following close behind, annoyed at the lack of evidence he'd managed to find. Not even a finger print, the culprit was wearing gloves. Most criminals wore gloves, it wasn't unusual.

The Batman came to a sudden halt, “Robin, we have confirmation Hatter is involved with the case.”

  Robin landed besides his father and saw a blonde dressed in a blue frilly dress with an apron. It wasn't the same woman taken from her apartment. This was a child, probably a little younger than Robin, himself. She was alone, on a rooftop. Scanning the area there was no one else around. Just this child dressed as Alice, trapped under mind control.

“I shall remove the wig,” Robin approached.

“Oracle we have an Alice, send medical and alert the police,” Batman ordered as Robin slowly approached the hostage.

“B, are their eyes glowing?” Oracle asked.

“Oracle, does this have to do with Hood, Nightwing, and Spoiler’s sudden team up?” Batman asked, voice gruff with annoyance and frustration with their lack of reports from that event.

“Yes. The kid is called Scraps, and is suspect to be an ice meta. They had a frozen apple in their belongings. According to Hood it hasn’t melted yet. Kid went missing a week ago. We had a lead that revealed Mad Hatter is the one who took them,” Oracle gave a short report, and Batman grunted in return.

“Mad Hatter has invited you to a tea party,” a soulless voice suddenly came from the child as Robin was closing in.

  The child was now holding out a green envelope. Masked eyes studied the arm holding out the letter for a moment, something made Robin stiffen subtly, Batman nearly missed it. Robin took the envelope and then tried to grab their wrist only for Alice to pull free and jump back. Now standing on the ledge towards the open street. 

“Come forward, you will fall standing there. I mean you no harm,” Robin held out his hand to Alice.

“You are not permitted to touch me. The invite was delivered, goodbye,” With that, the Alice stepped back and fell.

Robin jumped after them, shooting his grappling hook to catch the wall only to find the Alice was gone. Batman had run after the child as well, both splitting into a silent search of the perimeter to find nothing. No sound of foot steps, nothing but the cars and people below. The Alice was gone, and no trail to follow them with.

“Nightwing, Spoiler, Red Hood, Batcave. Now,” Batman motioned for Robin to follow, clicking his tongue as the mysterious child escaped.

“Father, we still have the invite,” Robin handed the green envelope to Batman as they were returning to the manor. Only a quick pause to check the letter for trackers. The only thing inside was coordinates, a time, and the date two nights from now.

  At the cave, Batman was forced to wait for the trio to appear. Nightwing arrived first, then Spoiler. No surprise Red Hood was last and took as long as possible.

“Report,” Batman ordered, sternly. Eyes narrowing at his children who yet again hid something from him.

“Scraps was taken by Tetch during the storm. Red Hood started the case a week after Scraps went missing. We want to find this lost meta kid and get them into a safe place or back home. Hood’s area says they has an accent so they might not want to be in the city,” Spoiler answered, “They work as a handyman, fixing up anything. A tech nerd like RR.”

“Tech nerd? The kid had garbage in his backpack. Broken everything and mangled parts that should have been considered unsalvageable. How the hell are they gonna build anything from that?” Red Robin groaned, getting Batman's attention, “Shit.”

“Anything to report, Red Robin?” Batman glared as another one of his children was in on the withholding of information.

“The kid makes cameras glitch out or just fuzzy sometimes. We can't get a facial scan no mater how much we try and salvage the images or the cameras themselves. Scraps does something to them that we haven't managed to bypass,” and that made a sad piece click into this new case.

“We just ran into an Alice with vibrant eyes. They jumped off the roof after giving us a set of coordinates, a time, and the date 2 nights from now. I went to catch them but they disappeared. No sound of the landing, just silence,” Robin spoke up.

“These coordinates?” Red Robin took the paper from Batman and found the location on Gotham’s map.

“Hm,” Batman replied, looking up at the screen. A trap, but there was time to prepare.

“I shall prepare a guest room, then,” Alfred appeared behind them with a trolley of sandwiches and tea for an after patrol snack.

“No, we are not bringing Scraps to the manor,” Red Hood argued, although it was pointless to argue with Alfred.

“So you say Master Jason. I just like to be prepared,” Alfred left as quickly as he came.

“Scraps looks like adoption bait,” Nightwing sighed as Orphan came in with a smile.

Bruce just sighed as he removed his cowl, “If this hostage is a meta, we'll need to focus on trying to free them from the mind control. We night need to use suppressor cuffs, or a collar. What ever we can get on them temporarily to avoid injury. We will prepare in the mean time. Hatter uses mind control, we will be fighting civilians, keep that in mind.”

“Father, there was an observation I had when I was close to the hostage,” Robin spoke up again, “When they held out the invitation with their left hand I could see lichtenberg scars traveling up their arm. But instead of being pink and irritated, they were almost pure white. Along with several other smaller scars on their arms. They felt cold for the second I grabbed them.”

  Lichtenberg scars… They fade after a few days, which meant the kid was recently electrocuted… But why were they white? Red Hood took a breath, counting to 10 before focusing again.

“I need to know what happened to that kid and who's ass I need to kick,” Red Hood growled, after setting his empty plate back on the trolley.

“We’ll find them, now that we are all keeping an eye out. Tomorrow we patrol as normal, then we send a team after Hatter.”

—

Signal had been having a good morning patrol. He was quickly filled in on the Hatter situation and to try and follow the meta Alice if they came into contact. Signal was having a pretty normal patrol. Stopping a car jacking, a convenient store robbery, a mugging, and a purse snatcher. Nothing he couldn't handle on his own. Finally, a glimpse of shimmering sky blue caused Signal to stop in his tracks.

“Hey, there,” Signal turned to find the Alice, and just as described, their eyes were glowing. But so was the rest of their aura, it was flickering in an odd way, “Are you lost?”

“No,” they responded, and the aura began to fade a little more.

“Okay, you need me for something, right? Are you going to invite me to your team party tomorrow night?” Signal slowly approached. He just needed to be distracting enough that he could use a shadow to grab the wig.

“You do not have permission to touch me,” Alice turned transparent. The aura flared just as the shadow fell through them, missing the wig completely.

“Okay, I won't touch you,” Signal reached up to his com and spoke silently. Of course he didn't know Alice could hear him anyway, “Contact with meta Alice. They can density shift. My shadows passed through their body.”

“See what else you can learn about them. So far Meta Alice doesn't seem hostile,” Oracle responded, “If you can free or follow them back we might get a lead on either the trap or Hatter's base.”

“Copy,” Signal nodded, keeping the com on and recording the conversation for later. Alice was deathly still but their clothes and hair were flowing as if gravity and the wind had no effect on them, “Can you tell me what you need from me?”

“Has Robin read his invitation?” Alice tilted their head slightly, a habit Danny still maintained.

“Yes, was it just for Robin? Batman thought it was for both of them,” Signal hadn't actually seen the invitation himself, just the report about it.

“Just for Robin. Batman isn't invited,” their monotone voice continued. They lifted their left hand and held out a yellow envelope, “Mad Hatter has invited you to his tea party, Signal.”

“Okay, thank you,” Signal approached and took the envelope. Through Alice's gloves and his own, Signal felt a cold chill up his arm and down his spine.

“Goodbye,” they spoke before jump off the building, much like with Robin.

“Wait,” Signal tucked away the letter and followed Alice as their aura flared again. They never landed on the ground. Instead they were invisible on the physical plain and floating away slowly. Unfortunately the aura he followed soon disappeared with Alice all together, “Alice went west before disappearing from my vision. I'm attempting to follow. They can float, apparently. And go completely invisible, even hiding their aura. They're hard to track but if I can get another glimpse of their aura or find them with some light manipulation I can follow.”

“So definitely a meta,” Oracle was typing again, probably updating Scraps’ file, “Use the cuffs if you can get close, Signal. Scraps also causes camera to go a bit fuzzy when nearby, I'll let you know what areas I notice they might be in because of the glitches.”

“Still heading west as far as I can tell,” it wasn't an exciting chase since the hostage floated away at a jogging pace, but that didn't mean Signal wasn't having trouble. It was as if Scraps was using their aura like breadcrumbs for Signal to follow. Eventually, Scraps’ aura stopped appearing, they were gone, “I lost Scraps, I'm going to check the area incase I was lead here for a reason. We can pin the coordinates for later.”

“Already on it. Looks like you're pretty close to the coordinates on the invite,” Oracle responded, “Mad Hatter might be leading us to his base. Its obviously a trap, he must have confidence to be so careless.”

“My invite has the same coordinates as Robin's,” Duke looked in the general direction of the coordinates, the Botanical Gardens.

“Keep an eye out, we don't know where Scraps may next appear,” Oracle signed off and Signal moved on with their patrol.

—

Orphan was the next to receive an invite. It was the first time a civilian noticed her while blending with the shadows.

“Orphan, Mad Hatter has invited you to a tea party,” Once again holding out an envelope for the vigilante, Scraps stood unmoving until the letter was taken.

  Orphan attempted to follow, listening for breathing or foot steps, once again no one could follow them.

Spoiler was invited, and she tried and failed to grab the wig before Scraps disappeared.

Even Nightwing received an invite. Although his attempt to free Scraps was as fruitless as with the others. He did notice when he made a pun that Scraps had a habit of tilting their head to the side. A hint of a personality trapped inside.

Red Robin followed, but didn't immediately take the invite. His theory was Scraps would only leave after the invite was taken. It had been five minutes now. While he couldn't remove the wig, he was taking a few scans of Scraps.

“Shit,” Red Robin cursed as he scanned Scraps' vitals, “Scraps’ heart rate is dangerously low and is hardly breathing. Their temperature is insanely low at 90°F. They're hypothermic.”

“Please take the invite,” it was the first time Scraps has said anything since offering the invite and telling Red Robin not to touch them.

“I will, but can I get you to a hospital first- Hey!” Red Robin was quickly cut off by an ice shard suddenly flying his way.

Scraps was fast, slamming the letter roughly into his chest and freezing it to his suit before disappearing.

“RR what happened?” Nightwing spoke up on coms.

“I was trying to negotiate, and Scraps didn't take it too well. Fired an attack and now I have an envelope frozen to my chest,” he wasn't going to mention how that same push forced the air out of his lungs and bruised him.

“We can't wait for tomorrow with their current vitals, Scraps is going to die if we don't get them into a hospital. They need an ICU in that condition. Hatter is going to kill the kid at this rate,” Red Robin spoke up, trying to pull the letter and the ice off. The ice wasn't melting or breaking at all. Not even a scratch when he tried to use a bird-a-rang to pry it off, “What the fuck is this ice made of? I can't get it to budge. Can't even scrape off a sample.”

“You couldn't even get a sample off the apple,” Red Hood responded.

“This ice has an edge to pry under, the apple is solid all the way around. I thought if maybe… ha!” the entire chunk of ice along with the envelope came off in one solid peace, “I finally have a sample I can work with.”

“Everyone return to the cave for a debrief. We'll be infiltrating the tea party tonight,” Batman ordered his brood who wrapped up their current tasks to return to the cave.

It was time to crash a Tea Party.

~~~

Master List

Part 1

Part 3

[xxxnightcorequeenxxx]

PSA To the Phantom, we have a Troll/Stalker!

Those who know me know this is somthing I won't typically resort to this, but today, I've reached the end of my long patience. ( one and half a year of patience) There is a Stalker/ Troll whose whole stick is trying to get people to draw Dani and Danny fan art. Thir asks will look like this. They will delete them as soon as you answer. I mod on a few Discord servers, so when I informed people on Discord that I had a digital stalker, someone reached out to me to ask me if this was them, as they didn't want to deal with what I had to put up with. That's how I got a hold of this:

On Deviantart, they try to get into people's good graces by subscribing and donating a dollar. (it's a tip you can do on DA, not required) They ask you to do art, and if you bite, They won't stop pestering you about it. Like you didn't do it fast enough, or you didn't do it. And if you do, they have a new request lined up the minute you post the last. So it's never good enough. They will try to monopolize your time, and you never get time to draw what you want to if you try being kind at first. One telltale sign that it's them is that if you reply to them, they will delete all their messages with you after your reply to avoid detection by moderators.

So here are the usernames I know them by; Usernames of them on DA; DanielFentonPhantom DannyFenton2 DannyFenton3 DannyPhantom11 JacobFritzsching1 JacobFritzsching2 JacobPhantom1 JakeFritzsching JakeFritzsching1 The username of the stalker on Tumblr: JacobFritzsching1 & JacobPhantom

I've tried to block them multiple times, And I suspect DA staff have banned some of their accounts.

They don't understand no and stay away or that people have boundaries. I've reported them multiple times. They have been suspended multiple times (I was lucky enough to get this screenshot for a suspended account)

They have been bothering me since Aug 28, 2023 and the latest block for this person was today.

This is me reaching out to others in my discord communities over time for help, showing what it did to me mentally and why I no longer take art requests. (For the privacy of the other users, I've only included what needed to go in there with their usernames hidden.) The only other user by name than me is the stalker.

I lay myself bare to you phandom community so that you may not suffer silently by JacobFritzsching1 hand. I know I'm not his only target. I've stayed quiet and done what I could for a year and a half. They have not let up, and I fear they are driving good people out of the community through their behavior. I will confess to thoughts of wanting to permanently delete my stuff just to escape this stalker. But I'm not letting them win. I am a Phandom elder, I have been a phan since the show since it aired back in the day; some of you may know me by my old username Jeanette9a, some of you will know I'm sited as one of the earlier ones to keep DP ship names list that now exisits on Ao3, and I have to use my every connection and pull to see this troll/stalker not mess with more of my fellow Phandom community. That so be it. I will pull out my megaphone and scram their misdeeds to heaves, so they may never walk anywhere without people knowing who JacobFritzsching1 is in regards to the phandom. You wanted attention well, here you go may I hope you enjoy what you have sown.

---- If anyone else has more receipts about this person feel free to reblog with a me too and show the phandom just who JacobFritzsching1 / JacobPhantom is. Because I'm just one person finally speaking up. I don't expect people to believe me outright. Not without more people who can attest to their character. Here is another post about the same user that is by someone other than me:

[sweetdispatch]

Punish me - L. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: Luke decided to punish you after misbehaving the whole day long warning: NSFW, dom!luke, spanking note: the request disappeared from my inbox but it was next on the list! taglist: @bunbunbl0gs

The age difference had never been an issue between you and Luke. You were older than him with a different point of view on life but you two get along with each other very well. It always made you laugh that work was important for both of you and that’s why everything was working great between you two. 

Despite the fact that you were the older one, Luke was the one who was dominating your dynamic in a relationship. People around you thought that it's the other way around but that was impossible when he was always towering over you. It was a natural thing between you and you didn’t see a problem in this. 

For your friends you two acted normal but behind closed doors, you were totally dependent on Luke. He was always reminding you of everything and always needed to be sure that you’re alright. It was adorable for you that he’s taking care of you. But the biggest dominance was visible in your sex life.

Luke always needed to be on top of you. Even when he let you be on top, he was setting the pace. You were his personal sex doll. He was taking out of you his every frustration and was helping you relax with nonstop overstimulation. You two know each other's bodies perfectly, know how to make the best pleasure and limits. Yours and Luke’ sex life has never been better.

Sometimes, you enjoyed being a brat and seeing how hard you can push Luke to punish you. You feel like it’s refreshing when he’s in total control. He was dominant but he was always making sure you’re alright and fine with whatever he’s doing. Although when you were acting like a brat, he only cared about putting you in your place.

Today was one of those days where you were desperate for this kind of sex. You were misbehaving on purpose just to get his reaction. Luke was sending you looks which meant that you should drop the attitude but you didn’t do anything about it. You wanted his rough side or more like, you needed his rough side. 

Whole morning you were ignoring him and his words. Luke knew you and knew that you wanted him to punish you. He didn’t want to let you win and tried to shrug it off but you were unbearable. When he left for training, you accidentally forgot to respond to his text messages and do what he asked you for before he went out. 

Luke’s blood was boiling but he knew he needed to keep it calm because you had plans for later. You two were going out for dinner with Jack and girlfriend. You put on purpose the tight, red dress that was always driving him insane. During dinner, you were touching his thigh every time accidentally touching his crotch. 

“Behave” Luke whispered into your ear and you giggled. 

This didn’t stop you. Thankfully for him, you were just sitting by the table with his brother and girlfriend waiting for the bill. The minute Luke paid, he grabbed your hands and dragged you to the car so you could return home. He didn’t say a word to you, didn’t even spare you a look. You knew that you pushed him enough to get what you wanted.

When you walked into your shared apartment, you started going towards the bedroom to hang out the coat. Before you made another step, you heard Luke.

“Stop right there” You could tell that he’s furious at you. You turned around to face him. “What’s gotten into you and that little stunt today huh? We could have had a nice day but you decided to act like a bitch. Come here” Luke ordered you. 

You obeyed and came closer to him. Luke quickly turned you around and bent you over the counter. He pulled over your dress and slipped your panties down. Your ass was bare naked in front of him. His big hand was caressing your ass cheek before the first slap landed. 

“I know that you wanted me to break and fuck you roughly. You wanted me to punish you” Another slap landed on your ass. “I’ll give you what you wanted but not how you wanted this. I’ll spank your ass till it’s red. You’ll be begging me to stop but I won’t” Luke said and spanked you again. 

His actions were repetitive. You could feel the tears escaping your eyes but you knew you put yourself in this position. You were moaning from the pain and pleasure that Luke was giving you. After a minute, he got a break and was caressing your ass. 

“I know this will make you wet and desperate for my cock but that’s all you're gonna get. I won’t fuck you today or for the rest of the week. I need to teach you a lesson. You need to earn my cock in your greedy pussy” Luke whispered into your ear and you froze. 

You didn’t predict this. You tried to apologise but Luke laughed at your desperation. He spanked you a couple more times until your ass was red like he promised. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up to face him. 

“Next time if you want to act like a brat, remember how it feels” Luke kissed you and left you standing there alone and desperate.

[luvst4rc0r3]

I love the Loser!Jinx fics, there so funny and cute but I can’t help but think that no one believes in Jinx, like everyone believes she can’t do anything right and tell it to her face and to the reader. And I can’t help but the reader slowly getting mad at everyone for not believing in jinx or themselves being together and hoping for their downfall.

Overall: the reader getting mad at everyone so saying mean things about her loser girlfriend

Sorry if this was way to specific, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I do hope you have a great day tho!

It had been a long week. Between the whispers at school, the sideways glances, and the snickers from people who thought they knew better, Reader had nearly had enough. Every time someone so much as looked at Jinx, it was like they were waiting for her to mess up. And she did, sure—she was Jinx, after all, a wild, chaotic force of nature. But that wasn’t all she was.

Reader had seen the side of Jinx that no one else did. The one that hid behind that manic laughter, the one that cared deeply for the people around her, the one that was just trying to find her place in a world that had constantly kicked her down. But no one saw that.

No one except Reader.

-

It started with the comments in the halls.

"Did you see Jinx’s latest stunt? What a joke," someone sneered. Reader was walking beside them, trying to ignore it, but the words grated on her nerves like sandpaper.

"Yeah, how does someone that stupid even survive?" another voice added.

That was it. The last straw.

Reader’s hand curled into a fist, and her heart pounded in her chest. She hadn’t even realized she was walking faster until the voices were behind her.

“Jinx is more than her mess-ups. She’s more than the mistakes you keep throwing in her face,” Reader said, voice sharp. The words were out before she could stop them.

“Don’t get all defensive. She’s pathetic,” one of them spat.

That was the moment it clicked. The fury rose in Reader like a wave crashing over everything. She stopped, turned, and looked the person straight in the eye.

“Pathetic?” Reader’s voice was cold now, controlled but dripping with venom. “You don’t know her. You don’t see the hours she spends trying to make something of herself, trying to fix all the broken pieces no one else cares about. Maybe if you weren’t so busy tearing her down, you’d actually notice how much she’s trying.”

They all blinked, the words hitting harder than they’d expected. But the damage had been done, hadn’t it? The doubt in their eyes, the laughs they’d shared at Jinx’s expense—it was too much. Too far.

“I’m not going to stand here while you make her feel like shit. She’s mine, and I won’t let you tear her down anymore. So take your pathetic comments and shove them.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the whole group staring at Reader like they couldn’t quite process what had just happened. Reader didn’t care. They turned on their heel, storming off with a fire in their eyes that was impossible to ignore.

-

Later that day, Jinx was sitting by herself at the edge of the school grounds, fiddling with a broken toy she’d somehow managed to scavenge. Her usual chaotic energy was subdued, and her eyes looked tired, the weight of the day clearly starting to take its toll.

Reader walked over and sat beside her, the anger from earlier still simmering in their chest.

"Hey, you okay?" Reader asked softly, not wanting to push Jinx too much.

Jinx looked up at them, her lips curling into that small, hesitant smile that only Reader ever really saw.

“I’m fine,” she said, but her eyes told a different story. She was used to being the punchline, to being the odd one out. Reader could see it in the way her shoulders slumped, the way her hands shook slightly as she twisted the toy in her grip.

Reader reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You know, I don’t care what they say. They don’t know you like I do. And they sure as hell don’t get to treat you like that.”

Jinx’s gaze softened, her blue eyes brightening just a little. She leaned into Reader’s side, resting her head against their shoulder.

“Thanks... I don’t really care about what they think,” she murmured, but Reader could feel the doubt still lingering in her voice. They kissed her forehead, pulling her closer.

“You should,” Reader said, voice fierce now, as if it could somehow shield Jinx from all the hurt that had been thrown her way. “You’re not pathetic. You’re worth more than any of them could ever see.”

Jinx smiled at that, a little more genuine this time. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“Always.”

And that was enough. For now, that was enough.

-

The next day, the whispers were quieter. The snickers were less frequent. Reader wasn’t sure if they had changed anyone’s mind or if they’d just earned a bit of respect. But what mattered was that Jinx was a little less burdened by the weight of the world, and that meant everything.

The world could think whatever it wanted, but Reader would never stop believing in Jinx. No one else had to, as long as they did.

And that was all that mattered.

I want sleep

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 8 - Nothing Is Okay

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: CPR, cardiac arrest, medical drama, medical inacurrices, PTSD, flashbacks.

AN: Writers block is still here which is why this part is a little shorter.

Previous parts - masterlist- next AO3

Enjoy <3

You’re not sure how long you’ve been laid out on the floor for. Enough time for your eyes to start stinging and your arm to go numb. 

“Remember that training we once did where Soap had to pretend to be injured?” Kyle asks. It makes you smile, you do remember that day. He was only supposed to roleplay his hand being blown off. Instead he threw everything at you and didn’t once break character. 

He pretended to have everything from internal bleeding to cardiac arrest and seizures. At first you were mad at him, you thought he was messing with you but your stubbornness got the better of you and you were both riding it out to the bitter end. Eventually John had to step in and tell you both to stop.

To this day you still joke about who did a better job. 

“I remember.” You say, Kyle’s hand comes up to stroke your cheek. 

“He’s a terrible patient.” Kyle says, chuckling. 

“I heard he’s been keeping Ghost on his toes.” You say, Kyle rolls his eyes. 

“You have no idea.” You both end up laughing as Kyle pulls you back into his arms. You lay there just breathing into his chest, he has a familiar scent, gunpowder and something woody, mellow and inviting. 

It’s not long before Kyle is encouraging you to slowly get up off the floor. “You should get some sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow. You’ve been working everyday since you were discharged.” Kyle says. You don’t bother fighting him, you could use some sleep, when you’re sleeping at least you don’t need to worry about the guilt. 

When you leave the room you see John standing at the end of the hall. Your eyes linger on him as he smiles at you quickly before you let Kyle lead you away. You let them all down. Not only that you let the medical staff down, especally the doctor. He trusted you took your bullshit psych evaluation at face value, and you ran, instead of helping innocent people you ran.

You don't deserve their kindness.

...

“Captain Price?” He turns to see a doctor walk up behind him. “I’m sorry I had no idea there were civilians coming.”

“It’s okay. It’s no one’s fault.” Price sighs.

“Is she going to be okay? The nurses- we all like her. She’s a good person. We’re willing to vouch for her.” The doctor says, Price smiles. 

“It’s okay, she’s resting.” Price says.

“Captain.” He calls as John turns away. It stops him in his tracks and he raises an eyebrow looking back at the doctor. “I think I have a way to help her. With your permission of course.” 

Price presses his lips together looking back down the hall where you and Gaz turned down a few minutes ago. He looks back at the doctor. “What do you have in mind?” 

…

“I think it’s a bad idea.” Ghost says. 

“I’ll be there the whole time. The moment I think it’s too much I will step in.” The doctor says.

“That could kill her confidence even more.” Price says.

“It could but it could also be the biggest confidence boost in the world. I avoided giving her cat 1 patients. I thought she needed to be eased back into work, she’s an adrenaline junkie like all CMT’s, she needs something she can just close her mind off to.” 

“Last time there was a mass trauma she panicked.” Ghost says.

“This isn’t a mass trauma, it’s running a code.” The doctor replies. 

“Last time there was a civilian airstrike she was almost executed over it. It makes sense she panicked.” John says. He picks up the radio from the center of the table. He looks at the red tape wrapped around it. 

“Okay. We want to be there too.” Price says. The doctor smiles and nods. 

“I would expect nothing less.” 

…

You wake to an ear piercing screech. You know that sound, you reach over feeling for the emergency radio. You must have forgotten you’re on call. You feel Kyle move next to you.

“I can get it.” He says trying to reach over you. 

“I got it.” You say opening your eyes and seeing the red taped radio. 

“Send traffic.” You say half asleep. 

“Code blue-” You're already jumping out the bed reaching round for your jacket. “-Med bay, resus code blue.” 

“Wait!” Kyle calls. 

“I can’t wait. I have to go.” You say. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

“Copy, on route.” You say into the radio as you pull your boots on quickly tying the laces. 

“Are you sure you can do this?” Kyle asks as you open the door. You can, you have to, you’re not going to let anyone else die. 

“I can do this.” You say clipping the belt on your waist and running out the room. You feel the adrenaline pulse through you as you rush over to the resus bay. You can hear the beeping of machines as you squirt sanitizer on your hands, rubbing them together as you walk in. 

There are multiple nurses running around, another medic at the person's head. One of the nurses is doing CPR while the medic is manually pumping the bag by his head.

“Abdominal GSW, intubated en-route, GCS 5, BP 180 over 100.” The nurse next to you says. You look back up at the person on the bed, your eyes flick to the monitor. He’s in VF, you can have a defib, you can save him.

“Get him connected to the auto pump, is there blood on the way?” You ask. 

“Yes,” the nurse next to you says. 

“Has he had any adrenaline yet?” You ask going over to the crash cart.

“Negative.” The medic at his head says. You pull gloves on watching him, he looks nervous, there is blood all over his uniform. He’s going to panic, you can already see the shaking in his hands. He’s missing beats while pumping the bag.

Your head feels so clear as you pull the crash cart over watching the monitor and counting the beeps in your head. You can do this, you can save him.

“Let's push adrenaline and charge to 200.” You say holding your hands out for the defib pads to be handed to you. You hear the nurse squirt gell on the pads, you rub them together waiting until the other nurse has moved. 

“Clear.” You call pressing the pads on his chest. His body jolts, you look over at the monitor. 

“Restart CPR.” You call as a nurse pumps on his chest again. Still VF. You can save him, you look down at another nurse pushing more gauze into his stomach.

You can save him, you’re not going to let anyone else die. You can see the patches on his shirt, American, lieutenant. This could easily be Simon laid on the table. You look up at the worried medic by his head, short brown hair, a worried look on his face. 

That could be Johnny. “Let's push epi again, charge 200.” You shout, you see nods, you hear beeping of the machine behind you. 

“Charged.” You press the paddles on the chest. 

You’re not dying today. “Clear!” You shout. His body jolts under your hands. You look over at the monitor. You see the gentle beats of sinus, you can count it on the monitor. He’s safe, he’s safe.

You stand up turning to put the pads back on the crash cart. You see the doctor walk into the room

“Let’s prep him to move to CT. Central line and blood.” You say. The doctor picks his folder up, looking at it.

“Good job, I can take it from here.” He says as the nurses push the bed out the room. You start pulling your gloves off looking round the room. The only person left is the medic. He’s looking down wide eyed at his open palms. 

One thing is for sure Johnny would never leave Simon's side. You would never leave any of their sides, you feel guilt build up in you as you look down at the blood soaked gauze on the floor. You left Johnny's side though, he never deserved that.

You can hear the medic's breathless pants, you step over to him placing your hand on his shoulder. His head shoots up looking at you. 

“First trauma?” You ask, he nods, you can see his hands shaking. 

“It gets easier. He was your mate right?” He nods again. 

“Go.” You nod at the door. “He’s going to need you. He needs you, your work is not done yet.” He still looks like a rabbit in headlights, you reach over gripping his other shoulder and shake him. 

“Hey! Move, you’re a medic, people rely on you, your squad mate? He’s going to need you. You got that sergeant? Move your fucking ass.” You snap. He stands up straight and nods pushing past you out the room.  

You let out a breath, your hand coming up to press on your chest. The adrenaline is waning, you can feel your heart thumping rapidly. You squeeze your eyes closed. You can smell the blood in the room.

The vision of Johnny being tied up, bloody and beaten flashes in your head. You should have worked harder. You should have saved him. You open your eyes, turning in the room you walk over to the exit. You need to see Johnny, you need to be by his side. 

You’ve been selfish, ignoring him, you let him down. You walk up to a computer and type his name in. As soon as you see what room he’s in you leave. The corridors are empty, it’s way past midnight. There are only limited staff around. 

You come to his room, you can see him through the thin window, the lights are on low and he looks like he’s sleeping. You open the door slowly trying not to disturb him. You go to stand at the end of the bed looking down over him. He is asleep, rolled on his side with a hand under his pillow. You pick up his chart and flick it open. 

GSW to the stomach, he had a bullet lodged in his liver. Blood transfusion, he coded in surgery. You look over at him, he looks fine, he looks peaceful. You put the folder down walking round the bed over to his head. His hair looks longer, there’s stubble on his face. You reach over to stroke his cheek feeling tears form in your eyes. 

You lower the bed guard bending down by his head. “I’m sorry I let you down.” You say reaching out to cup his face. The moment your hand lands on his skin his eyes open. You freeze your hand resting on his face, your thumb brushes his cheek. He smiles blinking at you, he turns his head kissing your palm. 

“Hey.” He smiles. 

“Hey.” You sniffle, you can’t stop the tears now. He props himself up in bed as you throw your arms around him. 

“I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you got hurt.” You sob. He presses his nose into your neck holding you tight.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He says, you pull back pressing your lips to his, you don’t want to break from the kiss but you're straining over to hug him.

“Get up here.” He says pushing you off him, his hands gripping your shoulders. You look over at him as he scoots back in the bed pulling the blanket up leaving you room to slide in next to him. 

You kick your boots off and throw your jacket and trousers over the chair before climbing into bed with him. He pulls you against his chest, you wrap your arms around him as he pulls you against him and you rest your head against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, he's alive, he's safe and he's alive. 

“Johnny.” You whisper.

“Yeah?” 

“If you ever pull that shit again it’s not Ghost you need to be worried about.” You say, he chuckles and you look up at him seeing the glint in his eyes. You sigh, you know he would do it again, he would do it again in a heartbeat. 

You reach up to kiss him, he kisses you back, squeezing you against him, running his hands around your body like it's the first time he’s touched you in months. You don’t mind though, you’re glad he’s alive you thought he was going to die, instead here he is holding you. 

“I love you Johnny.” You breath relaxing into his arms as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 

“Yeah, well I love you more.”

You relax against him letting the guilt eat you away. You have to make peace with your choices especally the ones that will hurt them the most. You think back to the medic in the resus room, you will never let yourself be like him. You will never let them down again, even if that means them being without you.  

Banners by plum98

[heartsforjh]

Six Lines 🧺 Dad!Jack AU

𝒬𝓊𝒾𝓃𝓃𝓎 #𝟤

main masterlist | six lines masterlist

“Babe, what are we supposed to do now that people are here?” your husband, Jack, asks, a half-smile on his face.

What Jack is referring to is the fact that right now is your gender reveal party. Jack’s mother, Ellen, is the keeper of the gender—she set this whole thing up, and is the only one who already knows if the baby is a boy or a girl. Truthfully, all you and Jack had to do was fly out to his parents’ home and wait for this day of the visit to roll around.

The two of you have been so insanely nervous. Based solely on how Jack’s been acting, you know if given the choice, he’d choose for your first baby to be a boy.

You, however, just wish for a healthy baby with no regard for what the gender is. It doesn’t really matter to you because you know that you and Jack will be ecstatic either way.

“Uhhh… I don’t know, J. Go ask your mom,” you tell him with a slight shrug. He nods, kisses the crown of your head, and goes off to find Ellen as you get back to your conversation with one of his aunts.

Ellen has you and Jack open the small pile of presents that guests brought, then reads off a bunch of old wives’ tales to the group. It’s mostly superstition, but supposedly each one is an indicator of what the baby’s gender could be.

You and Jack disagree about what you think it is. Based on the old wives’ tales, you think it’s a boy because you’re carrying low and you’ve been having the worst headaches of your life. Jack, on the other hand, swears it’s going to be a girl. As far as you know, he doesn’t have any real reasoning. He just thinks it’s gonna be a baby girl.

All guests are encouraged to submit their guesses, and even you and Jack join in on the little game. Of course, there’s lots of excitement to brag when one of you is inevitably right.

Your family stands around, the room thick with nerves. Jack’s got the balloon in his hands, and you’ve got the pin that’s going to pop it to reveal the gender.

That’s when it really clicks for you—you’re not just pregnant, you’re about to find out the gender of the baby you’ll be looking out for, for the rest of your life. The very same baby that’s going to depend on you and need you. Just that thought alone is overwhelming, but all of the eyes on you—waiting—are definitely not helping.

Jack notices and quickly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and speaking low so only you can hear. “Hey. We got this. I know it’s a lot, but we’re gonna do good. The baby’s gonna be good. Don’t be nervous. This is just another fun milestone. Let’s do it.”

Your husband’s words pierce through your thoughts. Although simple, they really help to ground you. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, soothing you even further before taking a small step back. You look up at him, right into his eyes and he gives you a reassuring smile that brings all of your excitement back.

You return the happy expression as you wait for your cue to pop the balloon. Soon, everyone begins to count down.

“3…2…1..”

“It’s a boy! It’s a boy, baby! Look!” Jack yells, practically freaking out, snatching you up into a tight hug as the blue confetti falls all over you, and cheers from family members erupt.

You’re overwhelmed now, but it’s not in the horrible way you were before. You’re exploding with emotions. You’re in disbelief, but this time, it feels good!

You don’t hesitate to hug Jack back, and when you look up at him he’s wiping away his tears. Your heart melts and as you reach up to wipe his tears for him, you start to feel your own coming up.

“Babe, are you serious? I’m gonna be a dad!” he says excitedly.

His comment throws you for a loop, and you giggle. “Well, yes… but you would’ve been a dad either way, honey.”

“Oh… yeah. You get what I mean. It’s gonna be a boy! How crazy is that?” he says, drawing you in for what very well could be your fiftieth hug today, even adding a passionate kiss to your lips this time.

You have to pull away before things get too crazy in front of family, because Jack is showing no signs of any kind of self-control at the moment. Before you know it, Luke and Quinn—Jack’s brothers—are also wrapping you in a big hug.

Luke’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he looks down at you. “A boy Y/n! That’s so crazy!”

“He’ll be just like me. The oldest boy,” Quinn adds, a huge smile plastered on his face.

Jack smiles and rests his head against yours, his arms still latched snug around your waist. “He’s gonna be such a good big brother.”

Your jaw drops and you instantly frown. “Um… hello?! I have to have him first. You guys need to slow down.”

The brothers all laugh. It’s cute to see, but you hope they don’t actually think you’re joking. Especially, Jack. You’re definitely not doing this again for a while.

You smile along with them, feeling grateful to be surrounded by family, and the fact that they get to watch you and Jack start your own. You have no idea what having this little boy has got in store for you and your husband, but you know you’ve never been so excited to meet someone in your life.

so, i know, this probably isn’t my best work and i apologize 😭 jack got injured as i was writing it, and i instantly took a break bc i was going THRU IT 💀 that quickly led to me having no motivation for this or anything else! however, we are out of the slump (hopefully) now that jacky is back home and being taken care of by his parents 🙂↕️ the world is healing and so is that shoulder 😛 this is just to get something out there tbh. i promise better parts ARE coming ‼️

tags: @mainly-miracle @nic0-hischier @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @dancerbailey3

join the taglist here! :)

[ladykailitha]

Murder in the Heartland Part 3

Welcome to the permanent home of this fic! Every Tuesday until it's finished, this story will come out at 10am EDT.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm shadow banned or something because there has been a sharp decline in people seeing my stuff. Even if I tag them. So if I tag you and you get the notification, let me know, because when a story goes from 122 notes on chapter 1 to only 77 notes on chapter 2, I have to wonder if people who asked to be tagged are getting the notifications.

But hopefully with this story have a forever home, I can get the number back up.

Also I realized I spent an ungodly amount of time hunting for Billy. It won't always be that way and we'll get to the meat of the story soon. I promise.

In this we Eddie doing some legwork before meeting Susan and Max and the meeting itself.

Part 1 Part 2

~

Interviewer: That really doesn’t answer the question. What do you say to the rumors that you’re a serial killer?

Steve’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops: People are saying what now? That’s ridiculous! No one accused Agatha Christie or John Grissom of being serial killers. Should we make Dick Wolf go to jail because he takes real life crimes for his TV shows? This fascination with thought crimes is borderline insane and I’m not going to even deign to even entertain the idea.

Interviewer: It’s interesting you bring up Dick Wolf. Are you say that you take inspiration from true crime as well?

Steve: there is a long history of mystery writers using current events to help flesh out their works and to say that I’m continuing that long tradition I thought would have been a given at this point.

~

The first thing Eddie did after getting off the phone with Max was make his way to the high school to get Billy’s school records.

But he did not come empty handed.

“Linda!” he greeted the school secretary brightly. “I know you’ve missed me, because I missed our lovely chats.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “I miss those beers and chocolates more than I missed you. I still don’t know where you get them because no one else seems to carry them.”

Eddie batted his eyelashes sweetly. “But if I told you that, then what would I bribe you with?”

“You could always not do that,” Linda said wearily. “Like not bribe me at all. You can leave me alone with my chocolate and my beer.”

“I could...” Eddie said all syrupy, leaning on the counter on his fists. “Or you could get me Billy Hargrove’s school records.”

Linda paused in reaching out for her goodies and tilted her head. “Now what do you want that for? He graduated the year before you did.”

“That he did, light of my life,” Eddie said, oozing charm. “But his dear, sweet step-sister who is a sophomore here, is looking for him because he never came home. The police won’t look for him because he’s an adult.”

Linda sighed and then pushed herself to her feet. She went over to the row of filing cabinets and went straight to H for Hargrove. About a minute or so later she returned with the file to see the chocolates and beer on her desk.

She quietly handed over the file and tucked her treasures away in her drawers. “You’ll copy those and return it to me within fifteen minutes or I call the cops for theft.”

Eddie grinned and then saluted. “You’ve got it!”

Even with a minor paper jam, Eddie had the whole file copied and returned to Linda in under ten minutes.

“Until next time, sweetheart!” he crowed with a jaunty salute.

Linda just shook her head and pulled out the chocolates to snack on.

Eddie went to a nearby cafe and opened up the file. A lot of it he already knew. Like the fights and the underaged drinking. But some of it was. Like that he had beaten Steve for the captain position based on actual merit. Out in California he had led his team to two championships on the junior varsity team and should have done the same out here.

There were all sorts of behavioral problems. Like enough to make Eddie’s own school record look clean as a whistle in comparison. Accusations of doping and steroids. Stuff he certainly didn’t get from Eddie. He stayed clear of that stuff. Roided athletes were no fucking joke and the last thing he needed was his brains smashed out because he didn’t have the right amount or some shit. Near constant rage issues, which would track with the steroids.

Eddie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He wondered if he could see if he had a criminal record. Like anything before he was eighteen would be sealed. But the dude was almost nineteen when he went missing, so maybe he had run afoul of the law and had gone on the run.

The more he dug through the file though, the more concerned Eddie got. He had been talking to the school counselor about nightmares and Miss Kelly had written that she feared he was being abused by his father.

Eddie winced. He knew what that was like. If he hadn’t had Wayne to run to maybe he would have turned out like Billy instead of the geek he was today. Being forced to look and act a certain way, and being beaten for not being good enough.

When he reached the end of the file, he closed it and then his eyes, too. Shit. Nothing in that file was good in terms of an sense of morality or whatever, but it was good in giving him some leads on where Billy could have absconded to.

First stop was back to the office to talk to Murray about the criminal file and then on the phone to see if he could get into contact with any of his friends out in California.

Well, technically first stop was to Le Creme’s French bakery for their eclairs and raspberry cream horns. If he was going to get Murray to do his dirty work with the cops, he was going to need to come bearing gifts.

He strolled into the shop, prizes held high, “Hey, Murrrr, how’s it shaking?”

~

Eddie wasn’t sure what to expect when he went over to the Mayfields, but the two ladies were not it. Susan Mayfield was a petite blonde woman with a softness Eddie associated with being a mom. Max was everything hard and sharp and bitter. She had been dealt a shit hand and was angry at the world.

Conspicuously absent was Neil Hargrove. Eddie had assumed that the man would have wanted his son hunted down and brought back so that he could continue to have control over him. But he wasn’t there.

Eddie looked around the home and there was a distinct lack of male presence to be felt anywhere in the small house. He didn’t mean stuff ‘associated’ with men, like sports stuff and beer bottles everywhere either. He knew the kind of man Neil was, and there was none of the ironclad control of Susan and Max’s stuff hidden from view. It looked homey and lived in.

“Excuse me,” he said gently. “I was assuming Billy’s dad would be here, considering that it is his son who went missing.”

Max snorted and Susan shushed her. “Neil left after Billy vanished.”

“But not like immediately after,” Max clarified. “Like after a few days of not knowing where he was.”

Susan offered Eddie a seat and then sat down on the sofa. “You have to understand. Things weren’t good with Neil before Billy left for cigarettes and never came home.”

Eddie snorted and Max’s face twisted in a sardonic smile; she knew that stupid trope, same as him.

“So tell me everything you can remember about the day he left,” he said, pulling out a small leather bound notebook and pen.

They went through everything they could remember and Eddie wrote it all down. “Did he have any friends out in California that he might have gone to?”

Susan and Max shared a glance. But Susan shook her head. “We’ve already called his closest friends. They don’t know where he is.”

Eddie tapped his pen on the paper. “That’s fine. It won’t hurt to touch base with them again to see if he’s been in contact since, okay?”

They rattled off the names and phones numbers of Billy’s closest friends in San Diego and his favorite haunts.

“Are there any places in Hawkins or the surrounding area that he might have gone to if he got in trouble?” he asked, and then looked up at them expectantly.

Max shook her head. “He really hated Hawkins. He blamed everyone for us coming out here. Everyone but himself.”

“And why was that if you don’t mind me asking?” Eddie said tilting his head to the side as regarded them. Susan looked uncomfortable as she shifted in her seat, while Max was clearly upset about whatever went down.

“He broke of friend of mine’s arm,” Max admitted, looking between Susan and Eddie. “Because he put it around my shoulders jokingly.”

“Woof,” Eddie said with a grimace. “That’s some really nasty anger issues. He had been violent before that?”

“He was just trying to be a protective older brother,” Susan explained, gripping her knees tightly.

“Like hell he was,” Max scoffed, rolling her eyes at her mother. “I think he had started taking steroids around that time, because he hadn’t been like that before.”

“Max!” Susan protested. “You can’t just accusing people of doing drugs like that!” She turned to Eddie. “There was no proof that he was on drugs at all. He just had a temper like his dad, is all.”

Max bit her tongue but Eddie could see that she was holding back a scathing retort. It looked to him that he was going to have to get her away from her mom to get a real picture of the guy. Besides, he knew all too well that what Susan said was a blatant lie. Eddie had sold him those drugs himself. All but the ‘roids anyway.

Susan turned back to him. “Is there anything else you need?”

Eddie tapped his pen on the paper a couple of times as he regarded her. Her knees were pressed together and her hands had a white knuckle grip on them. Her jaw was firmly set and her lips her pursed. She did not want him here, that much was clear.

He got to his feet. “Nope. That’s enough to start with. If I need anything more, I’ll be in touch. These type of jobs can take time, but I promise weekly updates, whether or not I have anything, all right?”

Max was on her feet shaking his hand in an instant.

He smiled and winked at her. “Since you’re the one signing my checks, I assume I have to defer to you?”

“Damn straight,” she said grinning back.

He nodded once and then walked out the door. He really didn’t have much more information then he did before, but he did know one thing. And that was Billy Hargrove was the favorite and Max was that weird kid that parents struggled to understand and then ultimately gave up on around the time the hit puberty. He knew, because he was one.

Eddie walked out to his van and looked back up at the house bought with literal blood money and saw Max watching out the window. He gave her a salute and then got into his van.

He knew who Billy’s friends were in town, he just wondered how many of them stuck around after high school. Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and Heather Holloway.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he drove back to the office. Susan didn’t want to believe Billy was into drugs, but there were just far too many signs that pointed otherwise. Maybe it was time to call in his favor with Rick.

Because if Billy wasn’t getting his ‘roids from Eddie, he was getting them from somewhere else and he really doubted it was a Cali contact. So it must have been someone in town and the only person who would know would be good ole Reefer Rick, Rick Lipton. The man who controlled all the drugs in Hawkins.

~

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[cry-ptidd]

Despite the fact that the beginning made us believe that Alucard and Seras as a bond would be at the core of the story, they ended up interacting meaningfully way too little. So I would definitely have changed that.

It's another chance to show some kind of development for Dracula himself this way. Because when he turns people into vampires, he either isolates them like an undead Bluebeard with the three sisters, or instantly abandons them and let them fend for themselves so he can move on with new thrills, like he did with Lucy. That surprised Van Helsing himself, because he thought Dracula would come back for her, and even guarded her tomb for that scenario (and left a note in case he gets killed), but he never showed up. Lucy ended up having to wander around confused, catching children and giving them awkward bites that doctors thought were from rats. And then even when he does the whole binding "flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin" with Mina, once again he left her and declared her duty now is to turn Jonathan and the men into his jackals. And that when he needs her as a companion and helper he will call her mentally so she'll cross a land and sea for him. For his deadbeat ass. If you want me to see any change from the past then I would like him to be with Seras meaningfully instead of having her deal with being a vampire on her own and a frankly inexperienced woman.

(And while this is Dracula-based, in my defense the manga started it, if they didn't want me to look at the story under that lens they should have made Alucard and the Hellsings OCs.)

I agree with ALL OF THIS. You put it perfectly. And now I will go into a rant of analyzing Alucard and Seras because of this.

Mini Essay of Alucard, Seras and fledglings

At the beginning of the manga we have small bits of Alucard teaching Seras, like the shooting range,

Her third eye, (amazing shot on the second page btw)

Then him just telling her to go apeshit and aim for a ghoul's head, which he interprets as her coming to terms with her new unlife instead of the violent, bloodlust-filled high that newly turned vampires seem to get in the story. (The difference being that when Seras comes to, she's disgusted with herself. The second time, because she's not skewered by bayonets.)

And then he acts like she's got it all. The only other time I can recall him helping her is when he reminded her of her third eye against Zorin. As much as I adore Alucard he's fucking idiot of a teacher.

Seras is just like Lucy — he turns her on a whim (you can't tell me Seras is the ONLY human he found that has determination and survival instincts) then lets her roam around. The only reason Seras isn't as confused and wild as Lucy is because Alucard HAS to teach her — and even then he does the bare minimum so she doesn't die. When Seras is attacked by Anderson, he doesn't even try to shield her physically and lets her fight on her own so he can have a dick measuring contest with Anderson. Then, when THAT goes array, his solution is to make her drink his blood — which is both very respectable imo and quite smart, as she then would be powerful enough to at least flee and wouldn't be shackled by him. Except he'd still let a 20 something newly undead woman into the unknown — no fucking wonder Seras sticks by his side. That poor girl is scared shitless and had her whole world flipped upside down in like 20 minutes one night. Then he gets mad because he doesn't understand emotions beside pride, bloodlust and anger and whatnot. Though he still praises Seras when she's not around to hear it.

Though, anon, I have to tremendously thank you for this ask, because now I understand why Alucard's such a fucking deadbeat with Seras. He's just so damn irresponsible with every one of his fledglings and everyone whose lives he ruined. As Dracula, he underestimated humans and overestimated vampires– he was so used to having dominion over his land that he thought that anyone would bow to him and, if he infected them with vampirism, obey him without hesitation or resistance. Then, he got beaten and had his worldview and pride knocked down a couple pegs, and then seemed to try and nourish relationships a bit more— as long as they proved worthy in his eyes.

Alucard's vision of "teaching" Seras is extremely minimal, and he gets mad when he doesn't get results within one month of practice, or when she doesn't embrace her monstrosity yet (something I bet Mina did that annoyed him immensely too, considering that's why he got got). It's, however unintentionally, an excellent way to analyze Alucard's way of interacting with others: when it comes to genuine emotional intimacy, he seems to know fuck all. That might also explain why Dracula treated Jonathan the way he did– curiosity, fierce possessiveness, then biting and leaving him to the sisters to most likely become a vampire too so he can keep him.

We needed way more interactions between Seras and Alucard. They're connected in a way that only him and Integra are; she depends on him for everything basically. And he has no idea how to deal with her because she has the opposite of his way of seeing things: she wants to stay with him because she seems to genuinely enjoy his presence and finds him to be a person of comfort instead of just her master, she only uses violence if she has to (and even then it comes with reluctance), and comes to see those with that power-battle-glory mentality as kind of childish. She cherishes relationships and the people in her life instead of seeing them as a hierarchy of who to obey, live next to, and who to kill.

I think Seras shouldn't have gone along with the whole "master" shtick from the beginning. She's a normal late 90s young woman, ain't no way she didn't find having to use that honorific at least a BIT weird. I would've adored if we got more everyday interactions in the beginning where he has to remind her what to call him and she's just generally very awkward in her new environment despite her abilities. It would've been great to get more attached to the characters and would also have quite some comedic potential.

Another thing I would've loved to see is her possibly flustering or throwing off Alucard by being just nice. He lives in a world of kill or be killed and might makes right and whatnot, with a fierce militaristic mindset and respects hierarchy above all (even his view of humans has the "worthy ones" and the "unworthy ones"); to see her being not only kind to him, but see her actively try to connect and bond with him in some ways would probably surprise him. It's not something you'd do to achieve a significant goal or her trying to get a favor or her obeying his commands like the servant she's supposed to be; Seras just seeing him as part of her close circle and someone she trusts (an entire essay could be written on this idea alone, might do it later) and wants to see happy and someone to be with would be JARRING to him.

Even during the whole hunt for Millenium deal. We could've gotten them having alone time or her seeking out Alucard because the idea of a war really stresses her out. We had an abominable lack of Alucard's emotional reactions when it comes to other characters aside from the end where he wept for Anderson and when he said his goodbyes to Integra. Seras of all characters really deserved to get some reacting from him. Because the moment he bit Seras, no matter how he envisioned it to go, he had someone he was responsible to care for.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stark Contrast 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, lies, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online friend isn't who he claims to be.

Characters: Tony Rogers

Sister series to Captain's Orders

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It's been a long day. Every day seems longer than the last. All that overtime is adding up. It's needling right at the base of your neck.

Unclench your jaw. You keep forgetting. The pressure makes your head hurt. You rub your eye socket and yawn as you drag your feet down the dark pavement.

You approach your building and look at the heel of your hand, mascara smeared on your skin, no doubt across your face too. Oh well, you're home. Not necessarily the perfect haven but a place to be alone.

You bob in the elevator to the music in your headphones. You step off and keep your head down in a lazy shuffle down the hallway. You unlock your door and spin inside, letting the song play out as you hang your jacket and purse. You kick of your sneakers and drift into the kitchen, mindlessly searching for something quick to eat.

You detach your headphones from your phone and take them off. You let the music drone as you mull over the effort to cook a box of processed mac and cheese. You pause the music and scroll through your feed. Nothing interesting. You let a live feed play. You never pay much attention to the new but it's good white noise. 

You pull down your notification bar. Oh shoot. You forgot to answer the last message.

You'd been chatting with Eddie during your lunch but had to get back to the grind. Those bougie middle-aged women won't find those overpriced candles themselves. Then they'll complain that the Martha Stewart limited edition is sold out. Oh, to have such simple problems.

You blink as the video plays in a little box floating over the chat. 

'Sorry. Got caught up at work. Just seeing this now. Hope you have a good night.' You send the message and pull the video into fullscreen.

He doesn't always answer at night. Or sometimes for days. He's pretty busy. An engineer or something. You met on some discord when Elden Ring dropped.

You narrow your eyes at the stream. You swear every time you see a screen, Tony Stark is on it. There he is now, giving a presser to a fawning crowd of reporters.

He claps his hand to his chest pocket and gives a subtle look down as he slides out his phone. He drops it back in and shrugs at his adoring audience, "I'm a busy guy, what can I say?"

They laugh, unbothered by his distraction. You turn back to your search for an easy meal. Oh, you still have that frozen pizza. This late, it'll make your chest burn in the morning but you don't care.

You preheat the oven and go to your phone, agitated by the murmur of the reporters and their softball questions. You don't have a problem with the man or his mighty band of Avengers, hey, they do their best. It's this whole celebrity shell around them. The sort that has half the population is a dysfunctional parasocial relationship.

You switch to a reality show that pits home bakers against each other. It's a bad choice. It stokes your already twisting hunger and sparks your sweet tooth. You never shy away from a treat. Good thing you don't have any.

The stove beeps as the subtle smell of smoke rises. You figure it's not that bad if the alarm isn't going. You put the pizza in and swipe up your phone. You pace around and check your news feed. There's a new Amiibo out. Nope, you will not get suckered into another money grab. You're save. Not for anything special, just rent. Another price hike. The next one might put you out.

You pizza finishes and your phone buzzes. You cut it into uneven slices and take a few on a paper towel. You flop onto the couch and read Eddie's response.

'I get it. Probably out on a date with a hot guy. Or lady. No judgment.'

You shake your head. He's such and idiot sometimes. 'Nah. You're awake?'

'You know I don't sleep.'

You wouldn't guess it by his erratic responses. If anything, you'd only assume he doesn't keep a routine. His bouts of activity are unpredictable.

'Let's not talk about work.' He replies before you can. The next message is a mood. 'I'm over it.'

'Sure. What do we talk about? You gonna help me co-op Starscourge Radahn? You never log on anymore.'

Your phone quakes as an audio call comes in. You nearly drop it as you opt to save the slice of pizza in your other hand first. You finally hit answer with your greasy thumb.

"Fair warning, I'm eating. I'm flipping starving," you say.

"You sound ravenous," Eddie says. "So, what's for... a very late dinner?"

"Pizza. Spinach and mozzarella."

"Order in?"

"Frozen," you mutter.

"Gross," he remarks. He's a bit of a snob. "You coulda hit me up. I'd send you some money for real food. I'm sure you've got a few shwarma places around that hellhole."

"Har har. If I'm so poor, why do you talk to me?"

"Good question. Can I think about it?" He snickers as you roll your eyes. "Look, sweetheart, I'm sorry about the video game--"

"You know, you sound like my dad."

"I do?" He nearly yelps.

"Sweetheart this. Video games. You talk like you were born in the 60s."

"I heard the 60s were pretty hip," he laughs.

"Hip? Oh you're definitely a catfish," you tease.

"How do I know you're not some desperate housewife using me for kicks?" He accuses.

"I sent you pics," you say.

"I've sent mine too," he retorts. "Alright, only solution here is to admit we're both catfish. You want me to order you good food and I want... uh, well, you're a good distraction."

"A good distraction? That's it?" You huff. "Thanks, Ed."

"I'm playing. You know I like you. I was just on my way to meet this tall blonde and I called you instead."

"Sure you were," you hiss. "You know, I had too long a day for you to be so annoying."

He cackles. You smile, just a bit. He really can be a butt. You don't know why you talk to him.

"How's the pizza? You want me to order you some real stuff yet?"

"Eddie," you sigh. It's a nice offer but you're not stupid. You don't give people on the internet your address. "That's too much."

"It's really not," he insists.

"To me it is." You drop the pizza and paper towel on the lone TV table by your ratty sofa. "You know, I get it, you're trying to be nice, but... you just kinda make me feel..."

"What? I make you feel... some sort of way, so that's good, right?"

"Ugh, don't. I get it, alright? I'm poor. Trash," you cross your arms and sit back. "Go and meet the tall blonde and have your fancy five star dinner."

He's quiet, "I was only messing with you."

"Well, maybe you should stop," you say as you sit forward and talk directly into your phone. "You obviously don't have the time for me. And a lot more important friends so--"

"Hey, come on, it's a joke--"

You hit end and toss your phone to the other end of the couch. You already know you overreacted. Shoot. Ugh.

It's just that stupid woman today, yelling at you over a bunny ornament, like the fact that is was put on the wrong shelf is your fault. You organise the shelves constantly but people don't care. They don't read either.

Your phone jitters again. You ignore and get up. You pack away the leftover pizza and put it in the fridge. That's your dinner for tomorrow, if not the next day.

God, why does he have to rub his money in your face? His super fun life. He went to Tokyo last week on a work trip.

You're a bitch. Insecure at that. It's probably best you cut free now. You wouldn't want to project all that on him. Besides, it's starting to feel like he only talks to you to make himself feel better. He shouldn't need that much help.

❤️

It's your own fault. You know it. Your worst and best trait is your crippling self-awareness. You know what you are, how you are, but it doesn't make it better.

You feel bad. You always do. Even if you're right, you feel rotten. You just don't like being like that. And what did Eddie do but joke around?

Did he have to keep offering to pay for you? Or mention that tall blonde?

Sigh. Just focus. You go back to putting the throw pillows back into the display basket. You watched a pair of kids toss them around for the last hour.

Life isn't easy and you should stop expecting it to be. That's your problem. You can't settle for what you have.

Julie, your manager comes by as you set the last of the pillows on those nearly overflowing the basket. You smile. She scowls.

"Your name tag's upside down," she points to your chest.

You look down. Oh jeez. You flip it around.

"Dress code infraction. Next time, I'll write you up." She warns.

"Sorry," you frown.

"There's customers. Smile."

As if one cue, the automatic doors open. You busy yourself with the next display, as if the napkin rings are that interesting. Julie snaps her fingers at Casey. He sniffs and tries to act like he didn't smoke up before he punched in.

"You're the greeter. Mind doing some greeting," she hisses.

"Oh, yeah," he stands and struts away from the lawn chair display, "hey, dude, like, hi. Welcome to The Home Hub. Anything I can help you-- woah, no way."

He starts laughing. You peek over your shoulder as Julie sighs. Casey coughs and clears his throat, "bro, am I high or is this dude Iron Man?"

You turn and narrow your eyes at the man. Goatee, sunglasses, a nice suit. He bears a striking resemblance to the man behind the podium at he presser the night before. You tilt your head. That's impossible.

"Casey, go to the warehouse and start downstocking," Julie sneers as she stomps forward. "I'm so sorry, sir. We-- Oh, oh. Oh my god, it is him."

She swoons and fans herself. Your eyes go wide as you give a goof smile. She's ridiculous.

"Hey, sweetheart," he purrs at her. "I'm looking for uh, a..." he takes off his sunglasses and glances around, "a bath mat."

"Bath mat? Uh. Oh, er..."

"You," he points in your direction. You turn to look for someone else behind you. "Show me."

You face him and Julie gives you a crazed sneer. You step away from the napkin rings. "Sure, uh, sir, they're in the back."

"Amazing," he winks as he approaches. There's something about his cadence. You never noticed on the screen, but it's familiar?

"Tony Stark, but I'm sure you already know," he says as he comes up next to you.

You continue down the centre aisle and nod, "yep, uh, kinda."

"Kinda?" He wonders.

"I mean, you're Iron Man or something, right?"

"Or something," he chortles. "You know what, on the second hand," he stops and checks out a silver statue of a naked Grecian goddess, "I think I came for this." He traces along her tits. "Don't make em like they used to, huh?"

He looks at you. No, he looks at your chest. You sputter.

"Bath mats are this way," you turn.

"Ah, come on, don't be like that FinchiePie."

You stop short. Your lashes flick and you gulp. How does he know your user name. You turn to look at him.

He adjusts his tie as he comes closer.

"You know, my middle name is Edward. Anthony Edward Stark."

You stare at him. No, it can't be. That's ridiculous.

"Eddie?" You rasp.

He puts his hands out and smirks, "it's a cute nickname, isn't it?"

"No."

"You left things a little tense. I don't like untied ends so..."

"It's a joke. A prank," you shake your head. "Is this what you do for fun?"

"I'm a funny guy, sweetheart, but I'm not joking right now," he comes closer. "Look, if I tell you the truth, that there was no tall blonde, that I was lying, will you give me a chance?"

You search his face. You're lost. Your disbelief muddles reality.

"This isn't real."

"You ever tried shwarma? It's so damn good."

"No, Eddie-- No, Tony?" Your eyes flit back and forth. "I... I gotta..." you spin and scurry away.

He calls your name. You can't stop. You run down the bath aisle and into the employee restroom. You twist the lock and stare at your baffled reflection.

"What the fuck?" You ask the person in the mirror.

[fall0utmind]

Nesting anon here 🪺

My faculties came back to me eventually after the stres sheat blanked out my thought process haha!

To respond to your previous answer as I said I would, poor Marc going through it when he starts to nest again omg. The first nest he builds is built through tears, shaky hands just not getting the pillows and blankets right, it doesn't smell right, Alex trying to shush him and help him even though he knows he can't really UGH. Delicious. Then when the nest is built he doesn't even want to go in it bc it's just Not Right, but Alex coaxes him into it and eventually he gets in, still stiff as a board and tense through the whole thing.

I think for his first pack nest maybe the boys from the other series would be good? Kind of like a pup nest, they're all extremely careful around Marc yet treat him sort of like a parental figure so that would feed right into his instincts and maybe make his omega surface quicker?

Then probably the VR46 pack, and just as you described it, with Bez roping him in and making him participate (absolutely adorable I can see it in my mind's eye). Maybe the relationship rekindling with Vale is too new and he isn't allowed in the first time (into the nest proper, he can sit on a chair in the room)? That'd be spicy.

Then the motogp pack omg your ideas are just perfect, no notes. David would definitely 100% growl at Vale, then be shushed by Marc who turns David's nose back into his neck and kicks up the purring a notch. Vale has just melted into the floor.

The STRESS HEAT, I thought about it after my brain was back online and I had basically the same concept in mind. Awful heat, painful, maybe even no sex involved bc it just hurts too much? The stress on Vale is through the roof bc he wants to help his omega but he can't do much besides provide his scent and touch to hopefully ease Marc's pain a little. All in all, a Mess™️. Bez comes in to drop off some food and check on them and finds Vale in tears, Marc asleep on him. Vale is barely holding back sobs to not wake up Marc and is just so guilt ridden that he can't take Marc's pain away, he doesn't want to hurt him again and feels responsible for the stress heat (as he should, catch these hands Vale 👊)

Again, thank you so much for coming up with this au, I am so hooked <3

Hi anon 🪺🪺,

Thank you for taking the time to get back to me - for others who are interested - prev ask is here !!

The first nest he builds is built through tears, shaky hands just not getting the pillows and blankets right, it doesn't smell right, Alex trying to shush him and help him even though he knows he can't really UGH.

Hi yes yes - so this is so important to me. The absolute pain for Marc, who is finally ready to accept his Omega, only to feel like he has forgotten how to do it. Alex is there trying to comfort him, asking to join the nest, pulling Marc close. Maybe even taking as many of their clothes as he can, even managing to find their dad's hoodie- anything to make it feel like home. Marc really, really struggling to relax - again, I bring you back to the idea that Marc thinks that he is a bad omega :((((

a pup nest, they're all extremely careful around Marc yet treat him sort of like a parental figure so that would feed right into his instincts

oHHHH I love this - I do think it would be a lovely way for Marc to be in touch with his Omega - especially having that parental instinct of his little ducklings who have imprinted on him. Also, something so touching about the people who look up to Marc and learn so much from him, ending up being the ones to teach him how to do this again. Also adore the idea of Alex being there - like the photos of them all training together.

WAIT--- It happens after they have been training at Aspar??? Go back to Marc's or something. Alex helped to organise it - spoke to Marc and offered the boys somewhere to sleep. Very sweet idea that they do it in Marc's home too :)

Glad you like the ideas about VR 46 - now let's talk about THIS 👀

Maybe the relationship rekindling with Vale is too new and he isn't allowed in the first time (into the nest proper, he can sit on a chair in the room)? That'd be spicy.

Fucking love the idea of Bez setting that rule!!!!!!!!! At first, it is only Marc and Bez - they slowly invite certain people in - Luca and Pecco etc. But yes Vale is allowed in the room but not in the nest.

Is it slightly torturous for him? Yes

will he do it for his Omegas? yes

Does it prove that he is trustworthy? It helps.

I am also loving the idea of some of the pack (defo Bex, Franky, maybe Pecco - not sure who) purposely winding Vale up a bit - being super touchy with Marc, making the room stink of content omega. (HI hi for the people who like it, one of them slightly teasing Marc, lips over his neck and it kinda turns him on and Vale is lOSING IT)

Then the motogp pack omg your ideas are just perfect, no notes. David would definitely 100% growl at Vale, then be shushed by Marc who turns David's nose back into his neck and kicks up the purring a notch. Vale has just melted into the floor.

This happens maybe a little after it all works out - since shit has gone down at the end of the season/ during winter break. So by the time we are in the new season, things have settled a bit meaning it is easier for him to take control of the pack - to shush David and to be close to others!! Love it.

Awful heat, painful, maybe even no sex involved bc it just hurts too much? The stress on Vale is through the roof bc he wants to help his omega but he can't do much besides provide his scent and touch to hopefully ease Marc's pain a little. All in all, a Mess™️. Bez comes in to drop off some food and check on them and finds Vale in tears, Marc asleep on him. Vale is barely holding back sobs to not wake up Marc and is just so guilt ridden that he can't take Marc's pain away, he doesn't want to hurt him again and feels responsible for the stress heat (as he should, catch these hands Vale 👊)

Ugh baby, I don't want to put him through that but I also so do. Poor guy, he is struggling. After all the shit he went through, only to have this too.

and Vale being helpless is such a good metaphor - especially for Marc being in pain, when he has put Marc in pain for so long. The rest of the pack is also a mess because Marc is pack and seeing him in pain is awful. And yes Vale sobbing over Marc - maybe Luca is the one who can comfort him. But yes he deserves to feel guilty because it's all his fault.

The next heat will be good though, lovely and a proper heat.

Thank you for coming back - I will reply to your other ask asap :)

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

Alright, I'm going to only focus on reblogs and answering questions for a while, rather than making new posts. My inbox is clear at the moment, I caught up on the backlog.

I want to dedicate some time to planning out that book. Not sure what to title it just yet.

Goal of the book:

To provide advice similar to what I post on this blog, but broader and more polished. It will be a book about fantasy design, but not the same way you usually see that term used. Most of the time, discussions about character and creature design are focused on making your designs work for comics/animation/video game concept art, where the important part is creating a design that stands out from a background and has an appealing silhouette and can easily be replicated by a team of artists. Marketability is a key factor as well.

This book will be about character and creature design from the view of a worldbuilder. I'm more interested in talking about functional anatomy and how to make unrealistic creatures look grounded and believable while still giving them that fantastical whimsy.

Part 1:

Obviously I'll open the book on some broader advice about how to get started with designing creatures, though the assumption is that my audience already knows how to draw. This is not a how-to-draw book. I will go over some basic terminology and provide examples of the artistic study process, but I assume anyone using this book is already an artist in some capacity.

The getting started chapter will discuss things like asking yourself the right questions to get your ideas flowing, how to use references effectively, and where to find good references.

That's all I have planned so far. Figuring out what needs to be said at the start of the book is pretty easy. Always open on the basics. And I think the last chapter will be about how to worldbuild effectively, taking your designs and applying them to your fictional world.

But trying to figure out the order of what to put between those chapters is the tricky part. I don't want to spend too much time on really specific and niche topics. I answer rather specific questions on this blog all the time, which is fine because I'm answering those questions for specific people and just making sure my answers can be helpful to other people who might have had similar questions.

I just don't think I can spend pages and pages of this book going over a dozen different fantasy people designs, or covering every possible animal combination for fantasy creatures, or going into detail on a whole fantasy fashion line for as many specific clothing obstacles as i can think of lol. That won't be productive or helpful for a broad audience. So I need to come up with some good categories to cover and then cover them in a way that hopefully leads people into their own more specific ideas.

And I need to figure out the best order to arrange all of those topics, so they line up well between the discussion of basic ideas and reference processes and the final chapter on worldbuilding.

I should also come up with some fresh design ideas I can use as examples throughout the book, since I plan to make a different book compiling all the worldbuilding I'm doing for my novels. Things like my posts on centaurs and quetzalin will go in that book, not this design advice book.

This is a big project and I'm excited to work on it! The most annoying part, I think, will be finding a publisher. I don't have the means to self publish it. I'll let you all know when it's available for pre-order and you can help spread the word lol.

[gxlden-angels]

You know the Bible does go kinda hard when you start to read it like a very rough draft of a Percy Jackson-like novel with too much world-building cause there was absolutely no reason for gayboy Jesus to do all that shit