#but no idea what This Guy is actually wearing so I think I THINK it’s very cunty bishop

[bloomseishiro]

just me, you, and your brother — his reaction to your (very) overprotective brother

౨ৎ ft. nagi, rin, sae

contents. fluff, kinda crack LMAOOO, newly established relationships, reader’s bro is so justified for sae’s part ngl >.> 

a/n. meant to be a reply to this request (but tumblr is being mean) ; hiii nonnie ^-^ i’m so glad you like my writing hehe tysm for requesting!! writing this made me laugh it def gave me shoujo anime vibes hfjfhjdfh i hope you enjoy!! :3

NAGI SEISHIRO

Nagi isn’t someone who is quick to judge. He’s aware he has strange tendencies himself. 

Most people think he’s a weird hermit, though he could care less about their opinions. It’s too bothersome to care.

But still, even for him, this date is super weird.

Not because of you. Actually, you’re the only reason he didn’t just leave the cafe and head home for the night. But there is something in his periphery that has been bothering him.

“Don’t freak out, but I think someone’s stalking us.”

Naturally, you freak out a little. 

“Huh?!” you cry, eyes widening in worry. “Where? For how long?”

Nagi briefly glances at the man wearing a large trench coat and fake mustache sitting a few tables away. He noticed that the strange man would stare intently at him, going so far as to snap pictures as he glared in Nagi’s direction. 

“Don’t look back—” your head whips around to look behind you “—but he’s that trench coat guy over there with the giant camera.”

“He has a camera?!” 

Nagi nods wordlessly. 

“That’s weird,” you say with a disgusted curl of your lip. “What if I go up there and tell him to stop?”

“You want to confront him?” he asks in surprise. He’s definitely not one to be confrontational himself. 

“Yeah! I won’t let some creep ruin our date!” Standing up haughtily, you stomp over to his table. As you grow closer, your steps falter. You look back at Nagi apologetically and he hears you murmur a small, “Wait, what the fuck?”

Curious, Nagi sighs and makes his way over. As he approaches the table, the stranger rips off his mustache, glaring daggers into Nagi’s soul. 

“I’m so sorry, Seishiro,” you blurt, grabbing onto Nagi’s sweater and attempting to hide his large frame behind you. “This creep is my brother. He’s trying to spy on our date!” You turn back to the stranger—your brother, apparently—and shake your head at him. “You! What do you think you’re doing? Go home! I’m telling Mom you’re being weird and that she needs to take away your camera again!” 

Again? Nagi wonders to himself. 

“I’m just worried about you,” he retorts, still glaring at Nagi. “I heard from the grapevine you were going on a date with the school’s weirdo hermit and had to make sure he wasn’t a creep!”

“By being a bigger creep yourself?” you hiss. “And Nagi isn’t weird! He’s kind and talented and so what if he likes playing games and being home? It’s fun!” 

Suddenly, you hold Nagi’s hand and tug him back to your table. Though the situation is quite troublesome, he still finds himself pleased by the contact. That’s the first time you held his hand…

“Come on, Nagi,” you say to him, expression softening. “Let’s take our food to go and head somewhere private.” You tear your gaze away from his to glare menacingly back at your brother. “I’m so sorry my brother ruined our date.”

Nagi shrugs, looking down at your face that is contorted with worry. “It’s not ruined. Our date isn't over yet, right? We can still have fun.”

You smile at him gratefully and nod.

Leaning in beside your ear, Nagi whispers, “Next date, we can go to my place so your brother can’t get in.”

Bashfully, you look down at your shoes but a grin escapes you. “So there’s a second date?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” you promise. “I love that idea. Now let’s get out of here.”

“Bring her home by eight!” 

You both hear your brother call after you as you exit the cafe with Nagi, hand-in-hand, but you choose to ignore him anyway. 

ITOSHI RIN

Rin hasn’t been over to your house before. 

In fact, he hasn’t been to many people’s houses before. 

But he knows this isn’t normal. 

“Can you pass the popcorn?” your brother asks, plopping himself onto the couch right in-between Rin and you. 

The two of you were watching a movie at your house (a romantic comedy since you claimed Rin needs to “broaden his horizons” and not watch horror all the time), but it wasn’t the relaxing movie night either of you expected. 

At least, not with your brother around.

“Hey, did you guys order food yet?”

Rin blinks before he responds to the nuisance sitting beside him. “Yes. Pizza’s on its way.”

“Perfect! I can have a slice then?” 

“No,” you reply quickly, glaring at your brother. “That’s mine and Rin’s pizza. And that’s also our popcorn!” Folding your arms, you stare him down. “We’re trying to watch something. Please leave us alone.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, but begrudgingly stands up. “Fine.” Your brother turns to Rin with a warning glint in his eyes. “But you better not try anything.” 

Rin frowns. You guys are watching a movie on the couch in your parent’s living room. What could he even try? 

“Okay,” is Rin’s short reply. 

Your brother narrows his eyes. “I don’t like your tone, kid.”

“You’re only like two years older!” you interject with a sigh, standing up to push your brother out of the living room and towards the hallway. “Stop scaring him. He’s one of the good ones. I promise.”

Rin blushes as he hears your words. One of the good ones, huh? 

Eventually, your brother relents and his gaze softens as he pats your head. “Alright, I’ll trust your judgment,” he promises, hands up in surrender before turning to Rin. “You better not let them down.”

Rin nods once. “I won’t.”

A look of mutual understanding passes between him and your brother and Rin finally feels himself relax once you bounce back to his side, leaning your head against his shoulder on the couch. 

“Now that he’s been dealt with… Netflix and chill time?” you ask teasingly. 

With wide eyes, Rin feels the heat rush to his cheeks, looking around the room frantically waiting for your brother to pop up and murder him. 

You giggle at his panic, snuggling into his side even closer. “I’m just kidding, Rinnie. Don’t worry, my brother didn’t hear.”

His shoulders relax as he drapes his arms around you, finally settling in to watch the movie. After a few moments, Rin off-handedly says, “Maybe another time at my place. No one’s home there.”

Now it was your turn to look away, embarrassed. 

Rin smiles to himself. Cute. 

ITOSHI SAE

You knew going into your relationship that Sae led a pretty busy life. But he always managed to make time for you. 

Well, most times, at least. 

Sometimes, like today, something urgent would come up and he would have to cancel plans last minute. Even if that plan was a date with you. 

“What are you still doing here?” your brother asks, eyeing you warily as you stand in the front door in your fancy dress. 

You shake your head, shrugging it off despite the disappointment in your chest. “Nothing. I’m just going back in to get changed.”

“Changed? You’re already dressed.”

“I mean changed back into pajamas,” you explain with a frown. “Sae can’t make it anymore.”

Suddenly, the expression on your brother’s face changes from one of worry to one of murderous intent. “What do you mean he can’t make it?”

You sigh. “As in, he cancelled on me a few minutes ago. Something about an impromptu soccer practice match.”

“So he stood you up.”

“Well, no. Technically, he let me know… Just, you know, twenty minutes before he was supposed to get here.” 

“Who the fuck does that bastard think he is?!” your brother barks, his expression deadly. “Does he want to die?”

Your eyes widen. “Whoa, thanks for the support, but you don’t need to go that far.”

“Fine. I won’t murder him,” he concedes too easily, pulling his phone out. 

“What are you planning, then?” you ask warily, trying to peek at his screen. 

He shrugs without responding, furiously typing away at his phone. Over his shoulder, you see him on Twitter, writing a post that says:

@ItoshiSae: WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE BOYFRIEND LEAVES THEIR PARTNER WAITING FOR HIM IN THE COLD WHEN THEY’RE ALREADY DRESSED UP AND READY? only dickheads stand their partners up. your fans would be ashamed.  

He refreshes the page and right before your eyes, you see the Tweet blow up, some people siding with your brother and others defending Sae. 

Whatever the case, it’s definitely not something Sae’s PR team will like. 

The next thing you know, your phone rings with a call from Sae. 

“Hi,” you answer sheepishly. 

“My manager is yelling at me,” he says simply. “Something about your brother slandering me on social media?”

Overhearing the conversation, your brother butts in, “It’s not slander if it’s true, asshole!”

You hear Sae sigh but he doesn’t say anything to defend himself. “You didn’t tell me you were all dressed up and waiting for me,” he says instead.

“Would it have made a difference? You already said you had to cancel.”

There’s a brief pause and you can hear the frown in his voice when he continues. “I would’ve made the time to come over if I knew you were ready and waiting. I’m sorry.”

You shrug, knowing he can’t see you. 

“I can leave this practice match early,” he offers. “Push the reservation back and be there in thirty minutes to pick you up.”

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. “I don’t want to interfere with your soccer training. I know how important it is to you…”

“But you’re also important to me.” There are some shuffling noises in the background. “I’ll be there soon.”

Feeling a presence behind you, you look up at your brother who takes your phone into his hands. “Yeah, you better be here as fast as you can, idiot. And if you ever pull some shit like this again, I’ll murder you next time. Y/N can do better than a narcissistic soccer player who is willing to stand them up.”

From the phone, you hear a quiet, “I know.”

“Good,” says your brother before handing the phone back to you. 

“Sae, I’m so sorry about him! He’s a little much sometimes—”

“I deserve it,” interjects Sae with a small sigh. “He’s right. I’ll be there, Y/N. I promise.” 

You smile softly, silently thanking your brother for being the slightest bit crazy and over the top. “I’ll see you soon, Sae.”

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Plus one 1/4

Summary : When Lando Norris realizes he's the only F1 driver attending the Monaco F1 movie premiere without a girlfriend, he panics and convinces Oscar to help him find a last-minute plus one.

Author note : I get this story idea after the private projection of the F1 movie with all the drivers in Monaco (also can we imagine they weren't wearing their team kit and actually did dress up).

Genre : pure fluff

Series masterlist

Main masterlist

Lando Norris had never minded being alone.

Not in the way that people always made it out to be, he wasn’t lonely, he just… liked his space. Relationships, for all their affection and comfort, always seemed like too much work for someone who barely had time to unpack his suitcase before flying off again. So no, he didn’t crave candlelit dinners or Sunday mornings entangled in sheets. He had freedom, and for the most part, he liked it.

But this week in Monaco, it hit differently.

The private screening of the much-hyped F1 movie was set for that evening: an exclusive, glitzy event organized as part of the Grand Prix weekend. Invitations had gone out to every driver on the grid, along with the sly note that "plus ones are welcome." Lando hadn’t thought much of it at first. He figured he’d just show up solo, shake a few hands, maybe take a few pictures, and go home. Simple.

That was until yesterday afternoon, when Carlos asked if they were all meeting beforehand.

"Sure," Lando had said, "you bringing anyone?"

Carlos grinned. "Rebecca, of course."

And that was the beginning of the end.

Oscar was bringing Lily. Charles mentioned Alexandra in passing, like it was obvious. George was already coordinating outfit colors with Carmen.

Lando had laughed, brushing it off with a "Well, someone’s got to be the mysterious bachelor," but the joke didn’t quite land.

Now, it was the morning of the event, and he was on a padel court near the port, sweating under the mid-May sun and trying to shake off the odd itch in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat.

He hated to admit it, but showing up alone tonight sounded... depressing. And for once, he didn’t want to be the guy arriving solo while everyone else walked in, hand-in-hand, whispering in each other's ears and giggling at inside jokes. He wanted someone next to him. Someone who looked at him like he belonged.

The ball thudded off the glass behind him. Match over.

He slung his racket onto the bench and tugged off his wristbands, then dropped onto the seat beside Oscar.

"You're coming with Lily tonight, yeah?" he asked, more casually than he felt.

Oscar shot him a look. "Yeah, of course. And you, you have a date?"

"Nah."

Oscar raised a brow. "Do you want to? Like, actually?"

Lando blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I could ask Lily. I’m sure one of her friends would say yes if I told her you needed a plus one."

Lando snorted. "What, like a matchmaking service?"

Oscar shrugged. "I’m just saying. Might be nice to show up with someone on your arm. Lily’s friends are cool. I could text her right now."

Lando hesitated, visibly squirming. "It’d be super awkward. I mean, if I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me? What would we even talk about?"

Oscar grinned. "That’s what small talk is for."

"And there’ll be cameras. A little much for a first meeting, don’t you think?"

Oscar laughed. "You’re the one acting all moody about being the only single guy tonight. I’m offering solutions."

Lando exhaled through his nose. "Maybe. I mean, just hypothetically. Who is this girl?"

Oscar grinned. "Hypothetically?"

"Yeah. Just tell me her name."

Oscar chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Her name’s Y/N. Actually, you’ll like her. She’s calm, which is good for you, keeps you from spiraling like a feral cat. Funny, too. And pretty. It could be a solid match.”

Lando sat back on the bench. “And you think she’d actually want to go? With me?”

Oscar’s tone turned teasing. “What, suddenly shy? I thought you were Mister Confidence.”

“Not when it’s someone I’ve never met. You know what, thanks for helping, but no. I’m good."

Oscar held up his hands in surrender. "Suit yourself. Just don’t sulk when we’re all paired up and you’re third-wheeling with the press."

Lando walked away with a grunt, heading toward the trailers to cool off.

Later back at his place, after his shower, he kept remembering Oscar proposition, then he took his phone and his thumb moved almost involuntarily to Instagram. Curiosity was a hell of a thing.

He looked into Lily’s followers and typed the name in the search bar. Only one profile popped up and it was a public one. Lucky him.

@your_usurname

"Sun-kissed, plant-blessed 🌸🌿"

❤️ liked by @oscarpiastri, @lilyzneimer, and 247 others

@lilyzneimer: stop being the main character every time we hang out it’s rude 😩💐

@your_usurname: someone had to do it. you were late 💅

@_user2: petition to ban you from looking this photogenic in real life too

@your_usurname: petition denied.

@oscarpiastri: my allergies make this my ultimate nightmare

@your_usurname: you're allergic to aesthetics??? @oscarpiastri: no pollen

@_user3: i love the cottage vibe

@_user4 : do you even know how soft your entire vibe is?? this is criminal 🌾

@your_usurname

"Busy life lately ☕️"

❤️ liked by @lilyzneimer, @_user5, and 403 others

@lilyzneimer: you seriously live in a movie

@your_usurname: only if you’re the soundtrack 💛

@_user7: how do you look good in every single vibe??

@your_usurname: camera magic and coffee 😌

@_user8: slide 2 made me instantly hungry

@your_usurname: I’ll make you some next time 👩🏻‍🍳

@_user9: this is the softest post I’ve seen all week 🫶

@_user6: this post feels like a warm hug and a quiet playlist

It wasn’t even ten minutes later that he called Oscar.

Oscar answered with a lazy, “Changed your mind already?”

"Just, maybe your right, maybe it could be nice to have someone with me for change. You really think she will accept to come ?" Lando ask nervously.

Oscar laughed. “Well we will see, let me text her. Be right back.”

And now Lando felt… nervous. Which was rare. He could race at 300 km/h and barely blink, but asking a stranger to be his date to a glamorous event with cameras and attention? Suddenly that felt like a lot.

What if she said yes and regretted it? What if she didn’t know anything about F1 and thought he was dull? What if he said something awkward and ruined the whole night?

His phone buzzed with a new message.

Oscar: She said yes.

Lando blinked.

Oscar: Well, she said “Sure, why not?” which is basically a yes. You’re welcome.

Lando’s stomach flipped. That was fast.

He stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Lando: Wait… she really said yes?

Oscar: Yeah. Chill. Just don’t be weird about it.

Too late for that.

Permanent taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie

Let me know if you want to be add or removed from the taglist :)

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: Pregnancy back-seater, WOTC-brand poppers and humanoid feet.

It's been a while since I last took a good dive into my inbox!

Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to message in, whether it be questions, prompts, or words of support and encouragement! I unfortunately cannot get to everybody, but I do my best while trying not to be spammy with the reply posts 😅

I actually have plans to do just that and an ANCIENT short comic idea that I still really like, so you can look forward to having your wish granted eventually ;)

Though, to be clear, Orin is older than DU drow, so she might not look that much younger. I do want to have a little more fun with hers and Sarevok's design however (also to just draw more young DU drow overall).

There are pros and cons to either, but I think he probably enjoys having a penis more. Not only is he already used to that anatomy, but it likely suits their very versatile dynamic most. If we're talking gender alone, I think Astarion would be truly indifferent 🤷

Oh he would be insufferable. Attentive and loving to a fault. If the partner in question happened to enjoy luxuriating and doing nothing all day, it would work out wonderfully - but if they have any desire for independence and self-sufficiency while pregnant, that might pose a problem. He also might have some trouble empathizing with the shittier parts of carrying - being so enamored with the idea that he can't fathom the downsides being so bad that some tender love and care can't fix them.

DU drow would be similarly whimsied during birth and definitely be very involved.

Somewhat surprisingly, however, I don't think anything could ever convince him to put the baby's life above his partner's. If at any point that was a decision that had to be made, he would, without hesitation.

He must have 2 or 3 long suffering pairs that look pretty similar. Very much the kind of guy to wear clothes until they completely fall apart.

LOL, THANK YOU. Were it not for the occasional glass of wine, the guy would probably be some sort of murderous straight-edge weirdo 😂EXTREMELY self-righteous about it, of course.

Except for poppers. I don't know what poppers look like in Faerun, but whatever that would be - he had a drawer full of them.

So, on one hand, you are completely right. It does suit him very well.

On the other hand, I am DYING to know why you think so, because that's the first I'm ever thinking about it myself and have no answer beyond "he looks like a foot man".

He definitely "fell in" by "accident" 😏

I will NOT accept this sort of slander, he would only do that if he really disliked them.

I don't know about the ears but he can def' make the girls hop.

I'm sure there's a lot of little things you could isolate that we have in common, that tends to be the case for most people (in that we can easily relate to fictional characters in general) - but we are largely opposites. I guess we both like animals, though even in that we part when it comes to our attitude towards house pets and the likes - I'm taking my cat to the orthopedist tomorrow. Somehow that doesn't sound like something he would do.

I guess that depends on what your definition of fem dressing is! I have put him in lingerie before and the guy DOES sport low-cut shirts and tight, tight pants all the time. I don't think dresses would really suit his figure, but he wouldn't be opposed to something frilly in the bedroom if it gave Astarion a laugh.

In every day life, I just don't think he would enjoy the flowyness and pomp one might associate with more (fantasy genre) feminine dress. He's a practical guy! Hence why his wardrobe looks like a lesbian's.

It is only humanoid feet, sorry anon, LOL.

Either dead or on that Vampire Ascendant grind, no in-between.

Probably large felines! But he keeps that to himself to avoid the Drizzt jokes.

I have had a couple of friends that remind me of Astarion, I think we could have been fine-weather buddies when I was in my early twenties and then inevitably stop talking to each other and not really miss one another very much 😂 same thing if I existed in the universe of BG3 - no matter what, I just wouldn't be wanting to get involved with whatever they're doing.

I could never be friends with DU drow but we would get along at the pub. I'm fairly confident they would both find me horrifically boring, be nice to my face, and make fun of me behind my back.

[c4tluver02]

free movies

wc: 1.5k

summary: Normally Keith gives you a free movie just for being so pretty and kind. But what happens when he's gone and Steve's there?

cw: female anatomy, r has long hair, diva!reader barely but maybe?

a/n: so someone should send requests so im not only posting Steve in family video or in a pool........ i swear i acc have ideas guys!!!! Walk With Me.

The sun shining brightly through your window tells you it’s the perfect time to put on your shortest dress. It’s extremely hot out now that it's summer and wearing anything more than shorts and a tank top could kill you. It’s a nice dress that you can wear to run some errands like going to Family ideo, getting your car washed, maybe even a little sweet treat for all your hard work. It worked out perfectly. 

So when you walk into Family Video with your short dress and push up bra you expect to see Keith. Your sweetest smile is already on display, but there's no sign of him. Only two kids who look about your age stand behind the counter arguing so loudly that they didn't even hear the door open and close. Immediately dropping the smile you walk up to the counter and tap on the counter, hoping to get someone's attention. 

For Steve it wasn't even the sound of your nails on the ceramic surface but your perfume. It wrapped around him in a warm way, a hint of vanilla but not enough to suffocate him. He turned around to see where it was coming from and that's when he was met with you. In that pretty dress and, wow, your boobs look really good. You don’t look like you're trying too hard but it's obvious you're a little dressed up. 

“Is Keith in today?” You ask with a head tilt looking at the back door as if you're waiting for him to walk out of it. 

The two kids look at each other in surprise. No one ever asked for Keith, especially not a beautiful girl. Maybe you want to work here, Steve thinks. He really hopes that's the case then he could actually work up the courage to maybe ask you out? 

“Uh Keith hasn't been in for like a month. Now that the new arcade is up he barely comes around.” The girl with bangs says. Her name tag is a little scratched up. 

The boy however, Steve more like, he was silent as a mouse. Looking at you like he saw something otherworldly. 

“Oh..” You say. Trying to hide the little bit of disappointment you feel that your little tricks might no longer work. 

“Why do you need him anyways?” Steve asks. 

You bite your lip, a little embarrassed to say the evil plan you've had. But Steve thinks the action alone made his pants a little tighter. 

“Well, I would kinda flirt with him for a free film.” You say with a wince.

Both of their eyes shot out wide like you had told them you found a million dollars. Realizing how bad it sounds you are quick to explain yourself further. 

“Fake flirt! It’s.. it’s all fake.” Now you're feeling silly for coming in here lookin like you're trying to impress someone and they think it's Keith. 

“I just, kinda, come in and wear cute stuff and say hi and he gives me free movies.” You explain.

Robin lets out a laugh, it’s crazy but good for you! Steve thinks a little differently but is intrigued nonetheless. 

“So you just fake laugh at his jokes and he falls for it?” Steve asks, surprised Keith would let anyone have a free movie. Maybe he was weaker than they thought. 

“Yeah pretty much. I mean it's just putting on a dress, saying he looks good in his vest, and I walk out with a free film.” You say simply. The routine feels fine to you but now that you've said it outloud it’s not feeling so great. 

“Well we can’t give you a free film but if you still want one feel free to look around!” Robin has her customer voice back on, probably done with you and your dumb tricks. 

“I mean I could give you a friend's discount?” Robin sighs as Steve suggests it. Of course what worked on Keith is working on Steve. 

“Really? You’d do that even though we just met?” You give him a smile but this time it’s real. Nothing like the fake ones you would flash at Keith. 

“Yeah I mean just a one time special. Just because you pulled one on Keith and I’ve been wanting to do that since I got the job.” Steve laughs. It’s such a pretty sound. The more you look at him you realize his hazel eyes and amazing smile. 

“That's really sweet of you. I promise the next time I show up I’ll look more normal. I just wanted a free movie.” You end it with a frown, sad you’ll have to start paying for a movie that you'll only use once. 

Steve hates the look of a frown on your face. Your brows dip and the look in your eyes could break his heart if it went on any longer. Robin decided to walk to the back of the store and actually do her job. If you can pull one on Keith you can for sure pull it on Steve she thinks. She's surprised he wasn't target number one. 

“Well for any consolation, you do look really nice.” He hopes it doesn't come out as bad as Keith would say it, he just wants it to soften the blow. It’s just a movie but Steve has this urge to fix your problem. One could even say he needs to see you leave with a smile that's real. 

“Thank you.” It comes out sheepishly. This routine of words feels all too familiar for the situation. Normally coming out harmless but counterfeit, now coming out with heated pink cheeks and a hand twirling your hair. 

“Do you have anything in mind for the movie you want?” Steve asks, ready to help you in any way. What wonderful customer service, right? 

“I actually asked Keith to hold a movie.” You say with your hands coming to cover your face quickly. 

“Oh, okay! What's the name it’s under?” He can tell this whole moment isn't how you normally present yourself but it's fun to watch you fall apart in front of him.  

“It’s actually under his name. Or he told me it would be. God the more I talk about it outloud I feel awful about using him.” You’re back to biting your lip. Eyes on the prize, Steve. 

“Nah, don't feel bad. He actually threatened to keep my check if I was late one more time so now I have something on him. He deserves it anyways.” Steve shrugs searching for the movie Keith hid away. 

“I didn't even flirt with him the first few times I came in. I was just polite and I guess he took it a certain way and I guess I didn't say otherwise.” You keep explaining but Steve already sees you as some angel brought down just for him. The fact that you’re feeling like it’s your fault he flirted with you in the first place already shows Steve that your heart is in the right place. 

“You make it sound like you broke his heart or something. You didn't do anything wrong.” Steve confirms and you nod your head in response. Ready to let the topic go, buy the movie, and leave. This whole thing has knocked your ego down a few levels, especially when doing it in front of someone as gorgeous as Steve. 

He scans the movie and you pay in silence. It isn't awkward but it isn't something you want to linger any longer than it already is. Another customer has come in and Robin is there to help. You wish you could have met them in different circumstances, one where your ass isnt almost out of your dress and the flush to your cheeks isn't permanent. But maybe that's not a you problem but simply something that happens when you're around Steve. 

He gives you a smile that makes you smile in return. Like seeing something so pretty you can't help but become instantly happy by seeing it. 

“So when you come back are you still gonna be looking for Keith?” Steve asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. His hands are pushed against the counter to hold himself up and he has really nice hands. 

“Why would I when this Steve guy is so much better? He gives friends discounts y’know.” You say back and Steve could hear the purr in your voice. 

But to look like the little gravel did not completely rock his world he rolled his eyes as he laughed. Steve puts your dvd in a bag and you really didn't need one but Steve needs an excuse to see you for even just a second longer. 

“I think you might need to become friends with me to get that.” He’s still got your bag, not handing it back to you

You shrug your shoulders and sigh. “Then I guess i'll be here often.”

[korrasera]

Pretty sure I got blocked by self-loving-vampire after I dismantled her last round of arguments, but I'll try to put this here before responding to sysid-ace:

This is exactly what a motte & bailey argument is? You're using the word "transmisogyny exempt" (as in, free from transmisogyny) but when this is challenged you retreat to a secondary definition of "transmisogyny collateral damage", which you continue to treat as synonymous with "exempt" when convenient and you go out of your way to argue that suffering transmisogyny collateral damage doesn't count at all.

I said rhetorical dodge because this is you inventing an argument to attack, using the claim of motte & bailey to cover up for your invention. Here are a few points that highlight what I mean:

I haven't retreated from transmisogyny exempt, as you can see if you read what I said above.

Nothing you've said has challenged any of my points, as all of your responses boil down to you reasserting your original position.

I haven't said that being affected by collateral damage doesn't matter at all. What I've said, repeatedly, is that being affected by collateral damage is not the same thing as living as the target of bigotry.

You haven't challenged anything I've said, why would I need to retreat?

Your assertions require that we equate collateral damage with being targeted by bigotry. You haven't proven that assertion, you've just said that it's so and you've asked everyone reading this post to take it on faith.

That's not an argument, that's just an appeal.

How do you expect this would go in real life? Be serious. Do you think someone being assaulted by a transmisogynist over a dress is going to just be left alone as long as he identifies the right way? If a transmisogynist attacked me do you think I could get out of it by lying and telling them that I'm actually a trans man or something? You're not living in reality if you think your thoughts hold such magical power over what other people do to you.

This is you rejecting any argument or evidence that disagrees with your position because you aren't actually making an argument, you're asking people to adopt the beliefs you hold because they're emotionally important to you.

Yes, a man wearing a dress can protect himself from transmisogyny by broadcasting his identity. You can tell in the way that literally everyone responds when this happens. People will defend him because he's a man by asserting his identity. Bigots can react in all kinds of ways, from ignoring him as no longer a target, to shifting to bullying him to conform by threatening him for wearing a dress.

You already brought up the idea that a cishet man who's too feminine is going to be the target of homophobia, and yet this example is functionally the same thing. Is the guy being attacked for wearing a dress experiencing homophobia? Transmisogyny? Is he going to become functionally a gay man and a trans woman because a bigot attacks him with both homophobia and transmisogyny?

In other words, you aren't actually looking at how these things actually work, you're relying on your feelings about how you think the world is built and you're rejecting anything that contradicts your worldview.

It's very simple: Practically no one actually believes Elon Musk is a trans man. Transvestigators are just irrelevant even when you're actually trans. Their opinions have practically no consequence among people who touch grass.

Translation: Counter-examples are irrelevant when I don't think they should matter, even when they demonstrate that my logic doesn't hold water. Much like saying 'touch grass' as an insult, this suggests that you're approaching this like a teenager would. With arrogance and an unwillingness to consider that you might not understand something.

How you are categorized socially matters more than how you identify in your own head, yes. How is that even controversial to you? The one single reason I didn't get killed or kicked out of the house was that I concealed my thoughts and intentions so that people were just not aware I was trans at all. Most people just default to assuming everyone is cis.

How you are categorized socially is based on your identity. If you will be killed or ostrasized if your identity is known to other people, then it's the identity that is the dangerous part.

The reason that you say stuff like 'how is that even controversial to you' is an indication of the ignorance and arrogance I mentioned before. You can't conceive of the world being different to how you know, so you don't understand it when people like me illustrate the many ways that you're incorrect about these things.

1- Being forced to be in the closet is itself a form of transphobia, so no.

This is a contradiction in your position, but you can't see it. Yes, being forced to be in the closet is an example of oppression in society.

For your position to correct, that must be false and being forced to be in the closet must not be a form of oppression. You can't say that appearance is how oppression works and then say it's not.

This contradiction stems from your misunderstanding of the topic, that's why I've been pointing out these contradictions to you.

2- However, notice that it is still true that how people treat you is dramatically different depending on whether you're closeted or not. A lot of other people in the same situation I was in simply died, and the more visibly trans they are the more danger they are in. The most prominent trans rights activist in my country was assassinated the very same week I had my asylum hearing.

This is true and it's more evidence to support my point. You're conflating vulnerability with visibility. When people are less visible, it's harder for bigots to target them with overt violence. If you can't find someone you can't easily attack them directly, no?

That doesn't mean the less visible person is less affected by bigotry. That doesn't mean that they're any less vulnerable to bigotry. It just means that in the moment they might be able to hide better.

Carrying your logic to its conclusion means that the person who is less visible is therefore not being targted by bigotry, so is not actually marginalized in that case.

A closeted or stealth trans person clearly experiences transphobia, but I don't think you can argue that it is the same as being known to be trans. Understanding this truth is why I'm still alive, and why my parents know less about me than randos on the internet.

Yes, I can, because it is. To make it particularly clear, this is central to the problem here. You seem to honestly believe that trans people who aren't visibly trans are not being targeted the way that visibly trans people are. You are putting them in a separate class and saying that they don't have it as bad as those of us who don't pass.

That's literally just prejudice towards other trans people, disguised as your take on how oppression works.

This is also why outing people is considered so dangerous and why those laws where schools must inform parents if their child is trans are a huge deal. If identity was all that mattered then it would not make a difference if the parents were aware or not.

This isn't just incorrect, it's highlighting your bias here because you're literally arguing against yourself with this point but I don't think you see it.

Outing someone ensures that they become highly visible. They face violence because, despite being not visibly trans, their identity is what's under threat. If apperance was what mattered in the way you say, outing them shouldn't matter because even if their identity was revealed they don't actually look trans and therefore aren't affected by bigotry the way that visible trans people are.

This is a whole lot of highly ironic unearned confidence from someone who hasn't read the core books on the subject and who thinks referencing academics is just an "appeal to authority", as opposed to just referencing nothing at all and making stuff up.

Did I tell you whether I've read those books? Or are you just assuming that because I didn't rely on quoting them to backup my point?

And the reason that it's an appeal to authority is because that's literally what pointing to an academic writing on the topic is doing. You aren't making an argument and supporting it on your own, you're pointing to the work Serano and Peterson did and saying, "Hey, they agree with me, so you have to agree with me."

Have you ever heard someone explain that all argument comes back to an appeal to authority? This is why. None of us do all of the tests and studies and experimentation ourselves, so at some point we're all citing the work of other people who have done that work. In asking people to take what those experts cite as proof, we are making an appeal to authority.

The difference here is that you can't actually formulate your own argument in a way that holds any water, so you're substituting academic sources because you don't have any evidence or reasoning.

How exactly did you prove your assertions? What evidence have you put forward for anything? What sources have you cited?

I proved my points with all of the supported assertions I already provided upthread, you can re-read it if you like. I've also dismantled every one of your points by demonstrating how they don't match what happens in reality, how they're not internally consistent or logical, and how you've had to contradict yourself several times as you've tried to make your points.

And I haven't had to cite any sources because I'm not making an argument that relies on any sources, my argument is built almost entirely out of reasoning, logic, and cursory observation. Like pointing out the reactions to Imane Khelif, for example, that just a matter of public record and you don't need to cite a source to invoke that controversy.

Because from my point of view you just sound like you think the true way to learn about transmisogyny is not books, studies, or articles but your friends' tumblr posts. It's not a serious position.

Yes, I get that. That's because you aren't yet willing to consider that you can be wrong about something and assume you're speaking as the authority on a topic you don't yet understand.

This is how the Dunning-Kruger Effect works. When we don't know very much about something we don't have enough knowledge to know what we don't know. Unfortunately, some people react to that by thinking they know a lot more than they do and then assume anyone who disagrees with them knows nothing. That's where arrogance comes from, people who don't understand something needing to lecture everyone else, even though they're talking to people that know a lot more than they do.

are you tme or tma

"i know you're nonbinary but which of these two arbitrarily constructed gender categories do you fit into" genuinely are you having a laugh

[solarstranger]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE (4.9k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. halloween has always been the time for you to unwind—have fun, even—as a reprieve from the stresses work and life brought you. but when your best friend bakugou somehow shows up to the party in a not-so-forgiving costume, you suddenly find that the last thing you can do is relax. (read on ao3)

cw. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), post-ch 431: more, lots of cussing AND banter, explicit themes (which i will not delve into for the element of surprise, but be warned), apt amounts of yearning (because why not)

a/n. dedicated to @andypantsx3 who inadvertently unlocked a kink for me by merely shitposting about it (the power that you hold). i know halloween is still ages away, but this is just what i came up with lol so i hope you like it ms andie <3 and to everyone who will give this fic a chance. i love you all!

This was all supposed to be a joke.

At least, you’re pretty sure it started as one.

It all began with an off-hand suggestion during one of your weekly movie nights with the squad—a week before Mina’s annual Halloween party. It was Kaminari’s turn to host and pick the film, unfortunately enough, although the five of you have since accepted the fact that there was no way of skipping the electric hero’s round despite the majority vote being for it.

(Though you supposed it made sense for a man comically notorious for things never going his way to be exceptionally stubborn about things he can control.)

Either way, it was probably his stubborn will to (force you to) watch Cabin Fever that propelled you into a mildly dissociative state where—instead of tuning into the poorly rated flick playing animatedly in front of you—your mind drifted to the upcoming event, and the fact that you still didn’t have a costume to wear.

You figured it was probably too late to order something half-decent or have an entire ensemble tailored for you, not that you had any ideas for an individual outfit in the first place. Ever since getting closer to the squad three years ago, you’ve developed a preference for wearing group costumes, partly because it was fun and made identifying each other during parties easier, not to mention transformed the group photos into something else entirely, but mostly because it saved you the brain power to think of what to wear yourself.

So you’d be lying if you said you weren’t mildly disappointed when Mina first made the announcement that she was going solo this year.

“Sorry, guys,” she shot to the group chat with a pouting emoji at 1 in the morning on the day of your last hangout before the party. “I really want to be Princess Bubblegum for Halloween—at least once.”

Unsurprisingly, Kaminari and Sero immediately gave her shit for the last-minute proclamation, although they didn’t get to complain for far too long before the female suggested they dress up as Peter Parker and Harry Osborn in their superhero clothes, an idea that they just as quickly gobbled up as soon as she sent a link for ready-made suits.

Kirishima, on the other hand, was completely unfazed—you’d even think he was glad for the out, judging by how fast he came up with the decision to go as Crimson Riot.

Will he likely end up looking just like how he normally does?

Yes.

Are you still envious of him?

Also, yes.

You didn’t dare express your dissatisfaction, though, wary of potentially disheartening your closest girlfriend. At the very least, she deserved to embody the character she wanted, especially with how much effort she puts into hosting these parties every year.

Which left you alone and—most definitely—costume-less.

A predicament of yours that you wouldn’t be caught dead dwelling on if it weren’t for Kaminari’s mind-numbingly terrible taste in movies, and the oddly convenient fact that the living human sitting beside you on the two-seater sofa is the only other costume-less person left in your group.

“What.”

You startled, then—partly because you were actually dissociating, but also because you didn’t notice you were staring.

Enough to catch Bakugou’s attention.

“N-nothing,” you retorted, conscious of keeping your voice low.

“Out with it.”

You sighed. You’ve known the man long enough to understand he wouldn’t back down—even if it meant inadvertently disturbing the others.

“I was just thinking,” you started quietly, shifting uncomfortably in your shared seat, “Since we’re the only two left with no costumes, do you—maybe—wanna—do a duo set?”

A grunt. Then: “Whaddya have in mind?”

You paused. Definitely something that hid your body. You weren’t about to strut next to Bakugou in a slutty suit, nor were you confident enough in how you look to even dare to wear anything promiscious.

You swore you got an ad for some stupid combination a few days ago…

“Aha!” you found yourself unexpectedly exclaiming, which earned you a stink-eye from Kaminari and startled looks from the rest. You mumbled a sheepish sorry, before turning back towards the ash-blonde.

“I saw it on Facebook Marketplace,” you whispered, leaning slightly into the man, acutely aware of his familiar perfume. “A firefighter and a fire hydrant.”

Bakugou blinked at you, before: “You want to go as a fire hydrant?”

“Yeah!” you forced out a laugh, suddenly self-conscious. “What’s wrong with it? I always wanted to wear something stupid for Halloween.”

“A fire hydrant.”

“Stop sounding so incredulous, you dickhead.”

Bakugou stared at you for another beat, before looking away, shrugging. “Whatever. As long as I don’t look like a dumbass in that shit.”

“Of course, you won’t!” you chirped, fishing into your pocket for your phone so you could place the order despite knowing Kaminari would reprimand you for using gadgets while the film is playing. “We’ll be the hottest duo at the party.”

You didn’t mean to be right.

You only said what you said because you were, admittedly, over the moon about Bakugou surprisingly going along with your proposition—a much favorable response than the one you were expecting from the pro-hero.

You didn’t bother asking the seller about the measurements, either, having eyeballed the pictures and hastily deciding that it seemed like it was going to fit the ash-blonde. You weren’t about to lose the set to a much speedier, equally last-minute buyer.

It didn’t take long for you to receive the well-wrapped package, and you had his piece of the ensemble instantly delivered to his home the following day.

Weirdly enough, you didn’t hear any complaints from the man. Once you were sure he had claimed your mini gift bag, you certainly braced yourself for some expletives to come your way, laced with flak about the quality of the stitching, or criticism regarding the stiffness of the fabric, but none of that came.

Which, now that you’re standing on Mina’s front porch and gaping at the sight in front of you, suddenly makes sense.

Because you didn’t mean to be right—when you said you were going to be hot.

Well, certainly not you. The only curve on your body right now is the curve of the top of your flimsy fire hydrant costume.

But Bakugou?

You force your eyes away from how his shirt sleeves are clinging to his biceps for dear life.

“Don’t you look stupid.”

At the taunt, your gaze snaps back at the pro-hero, a reflex that you instantly regret when you’re once again met with the sight of his too-tight shirt that is tucked into, thankfully, not-as-tight (actually, loose) yellow pants, hands buried deep inside his pockets.

You scramble for a response.

“W-where’s your jacket?” you croak, “And hat?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow ever so minutely, as if in bemusement, before a wave of realization sweeps his features. He nods to the commotion behind him, “It’s hot inside. Had to take it off.”

“What?” you can’t help but frown, “You’re compromising the integrity of our costume set.”

You’re also making it a little hard to breathe, the pesky little voice in your head pipes up.

You slap a metaphorical hand over its metaphorical mouth.

Bakugou grins. “And you’re hilariously articulate for a fucking fire hydrant.”

“Fucking—”

“And before you spray at me,” he cuts you off, hands raised in mock surrender, “Mina’s looking for you. She wants to take pictures while her wig glue is still working.”

You’re losing him.

Scratch that—you’ve lost him.

And—jesus—you’ve never felt better.

As it turns out, you shot yourself in the foot when you unwittingly roped Bakugou into doing this with you, because you forgot the guy infuriatingly looks good in anything.

Even a baggy uniform set that you forced him to keep wearing despite his loud protests, citing the scalding, humid heat that’s becoming more and more unbearable with each passing moment, even to an in-denial you.

You argued it was to make sure people understood what you two were supposed to be, but really, it was for your own motherfucking sanity, and probably the sanity of every single individual in this party who is remotely attracted to men.

Because, had you known that that shirt was a complete and utter atrocity to mankind, you would’ve sent it back to that seller the minute you got the package.

No, actually. You would’ve burned it.

Besides, that excuse was pure bullshit to start with anyway, because being seen as a set is certainly the last thing you’re aiming for right now, not with how you’ve been avoiding the ash-blonde not just like a plague, but like all ten plagues of Egypt—swerving into tight corners and ducking under furniture as much as your not-so-inconspicous get-up allows you just to get away from him.

But you should’ve known better than to think you could hide from the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

The very Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, who’s currently peering menacingly down at you, where you’re stuffed—crammed in the small, dusty space between Mina’s sofa and the living room wall.

You laugh, although it comes out a bit stilted.

“…I can explain?”

That’s all you manage to get out—except for a squawk—when he suddenly lurches forward and grabs you by the wrist, bringing you to your feet in a flash. You don’t get to say anything in complaint before you find yourself already being dragged through a crowd of partygoers, the decidedly fuming man not bothering to excuse yourselves as he forces the people to make way through his sheer presence alone, like Moses parting the Red Sea.

You try to say sorry to every other person you bump into, forcing your mind not to focus on how ridiculous you must be looking right now—a frumpy fire hydrant being forcefully pulled by an angry firefighter—although you’re just as swiftly yanked from your stupor and the uncomfortable spotlight when you’re tugged up the staircase and into what you can only guess is Mina’s bedroom.

The door slams shut behind you once you’re inside, and you flinch, Bakugou’s back turned against you—although you don’t have to catch a glimpse of his face to know he’s mad.

Steeling yourself, you clear your throat.

“Look, Bakugou, I—”

“Are you pulling some kind of prank on me, because believe me, I’m really not in the mood right now.”

You gulp. “I—”

“What?” he finally turns to you, cutting you off, and you barely miss the sweat dripping down his temples as he scowls at you, “You what?”

“I w-was… I was just…”

He scoffs, a gruff, smug sound that causes you to stiffen. “What? Can’t even come up with a shitty excuse?”

At that, you bristle, and then open your mouth to spit something back, when you’re abruptly stopped in your tracks as Bakugou unceremoniously yanks the jacket and headpiece off of him, the aggressive motion leaving his muscles no choice but to strain against his stained-with-sweat compression shirt.

And, despite yourself, you stare.

“What?” you distantly hear him ask you—suspiciously—while you only blink at him, frozen.

You don’t know how much time passes between the two of you, but you don’t remember daring to move an inch, at least not until Bakugou says something again, effectively snapping you out of your trance.

“…’re you staring at, dumbass?”

You tense in attention, immediately averting your gaze. “N-nothing. I wasn’t s-staring—at a-anything.”

“…Huh.”

You whip to look at him. “What?”

He stares at you for another moment, the intimidation from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with—

Your train of thought gets completely derailed when he wordlessly takes a step closer to you, then another, then another, until your back collides with the door, and his arms are caging you in between them, and you’re desperately wishing you’d meld with the wood just to get away from—

To get away from—

From—

“I make you horny, is that it?”

Your jaw drops.

To your surprise, Bakugou isn’t smirking, or dripping with any sense of conceit.

Instead, he’s peering at you with something…

There’s no way in hell, but it’s almost akin to—

“Answer me.”

At that, you seize up, but—miraculously—manage to force out a cackle a second later. “Ha ha, very funny, Bakugou.”

“Now, come on,” you start, voice wobbly, moving to duck under his arm, but then he slams his hand against the door, and you—despite yourself—immediately straighten up back in position.

A glare. “I’m not asking you again.”

“Or else what?”

His eyes darken; you fight back a shudder.

“Or else I’m gonna have to pry it out of your fucking mouth.”

You frown. “How the hell are you—”

You can only squeak in shock when Bakugou—the Bakugou Katsuki—#5 pro-hero of all of Japan, but perhaps more importantly, one of your best friends for the past three years, all but smashes his lips against yours, instantly encasing your mouth in his.

You can’t help it—you don’t think there’s any way for you to help it—but you moan at the contact, arms shooting up to circle around his neck, just as his scarred ones plant themselves on your hips, yanking you right up next to him—so close that you feel the faint silhouette of what can only be his—

“Shut up,” he mumbles against your lips before you can say anything, immediately following it up with another open-mouthed kiss.

“W-what,” you retort as well as you can despite his barrage of attacks, squirming under his harsh hold, “I didn’t—mmm—say—anything.”

To your chagrin, he pulls away ever so slightly, a petulant frown on his face. “You were about to shoot me with a belated comeback, you smartass.”

You break into a grin. “Well, I’m not the one with a hard-on.”

“That’s it.”

You barely stop yourself from yelping when Bakugou all but tears your costume apart with one strong tug, a loss that you would most definitely regret if it weren’t for that display of strength just now embarrassingly sending a shot of arousal down your veins, causing you to fail to tamp down a shiver.

Unfortunately, this subtle reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who only smirks knowingly at you as he tosses the onesie aside, staring at you in all your barely clothed glory. “So I do make you horny.”

You flame. “Y-you know, you shouldn’t be all cocky when you’re dick is literally standing as erect as you.”

That makes Bakugou bark out a stunned laugh, which makes you smile in spite of yourself.

Instead of spewing a quip right back at you, though, he leans in again, pressing a contrastingly soft peck on your lips. “Never said you didn’t have the same effect on me, princess.”

You gape at him. “As a fire hydrant?”

Bakugou visibly falters, and you snort, which earns you a flick on the forehead.

“Obviously, not in that suit,” he remarks, hands finding their way back on your hips, rubbing soothing circles on the covered flesh. “But that’s what the imagination is for, right?”

Your eyes widen. “Y-you mean—you’ve—”

“Yeah,” he replies, not letting you finish, tone uncharacteristically quiet. “I-is that—uh—alright?”

Fuck.

Well, then.

You’ve always believed honesty begets honesty.

Which is why you say the next thing.

“Yes. It’s more than alright.”

Apparently, that response is more than alright to him, because Bakugou hoists you up in his arms like you barely matched the weight of a small sack of potatoes, but not before diving in for another kiss—one that’s equally as frantic and hot as the last few ones—if not more.

“We—mmm—shouldn’t be—doing this,” you try to say as he carries you to the bed, although it’s hard to focus when Bakugou’s relentless in his assault on your lips, tongue determined in exploring every inch of your mouth.

“Bakugou—”

“Katsuki,” he corrects you so sourly that you’d laugh it weren’t for the fact that you’re now—quite literally—sprawled helpless underneath the man, who’s now towering over you on—

Fuck.

Mina’s bed, of all places.

“Mina’s gonna kill us if she finds out.”

He scoffs. “Mina’s the one to blame, anyway. We wouldn’t be in this situation if she didn’t abandon ship in the first place.”

At that, and despite yourself, you stiffen. “You mean—this is just—”

“There you go again. Overthinking shit.”

“I am not—”

Bakugou shuts you up with another kiss. You return it.

He pulls back, the earlier humor in his countenance now having made way for palpable seriousness. “I want this, dumbass. I’ve wanted this. Mina just happened to make it happen sooner than planned.”

“Y-you know, you’re giving Mina all the credit, when I was the one who invited you to do the costumes with me.”

“Right,” he grins, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so soft you don’t know how to react. “I guess I have to thank you, too, then.”

“Thank me by taking off your clothes,” you quip, clawing at the waistband of his pants, “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Damn. Okay, princess.”

At that, Bakugou moves to take off his still-ridiculously tight shirt first by his nape, when—out of nowhere—everything hits you, and the word is already out of your mouth before you can rein it in.

“Wait.”

Bakugou freezes, top midway off his torso, revealing his mouth-watering abs and motherfucking happy trail.

You have to wrench your eyes away from them.

“I change my mind,” you clear your throat, avoiding his gaze, opting to stare blankly at the ceiling instead. “I want you to keep it on.”

“…Oh, shit.”

Your head snaps back to look at him. “What?”

To your chagrin, Bakugou only chuckles before shaking his head. “You weren’t kidding, when you—”

“If you’re just gonna shame me,” you interject, partly because you’re terrified of the remaining half of his sentence, “Then you better kiss your orgasm goodbye.”

“I’m not gonna—” he trails off, defensive, before sighing, “Jesus, you’re stubborn when you’re embarrassed.”

You harumph, arms crossed in front of your chest.

“But, fine,” he eventually says after a brief moment of silence, catching your attention. “I actually wanted to be naked with you, but if this is what you want, then I’ll keep it on.”

He seems to hesitate for a moment, before—ultimately—flashing you a not-at-all disarming smirk. “That’s what the second time is for, right?”

“S-second time?”

At your query, his sneer falters, instantly replaced with a frown. “Yeah.”

“Are we talking friends with benefits? Or…”

Now, you’d think you just accused this man of being a serial killer with how he’s looking at you with blatant offense, features contorted so painfully you’ve got half a mind to smooth down the creases on his skin.

“I’m just kiddi—”

“Seriously? Fuck buddies?”

You pout. “I was just—”

“Fuck, no. We’re gonna date,” he points between the two of you, “You and I.”

“Alright,” you affirm before he can ramble even more, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his scarred one. He immediately relaxes.

“We’re gonna date,” you parrot for confirmation, and he nods sternly, “For realsies. And we’re gonna tell the squad when it feels right.”

“I mean, if we don’t get caught fucking here tonight.”

That grants him a slap to the arm, which he takes in stride, laughing.

“I’m just fucking with you,” he snickers.

“Then quit fucking with me and just fuck me, dickhead.”

“Gladly,” he retorts with a grin, leaning in, “But there’s something I want to do first.”

That’s all the warning you get before Bakugou tugs your tank top off of you in one swift motion, momentum slightly interrupted with his scrambling to unfasten your bra a beat later, although he manages to wrangle it away from you after a few more seconds of struggle, making you laugh.

Though that laugh all but dies in your throat the moment Bakugou lifts the undergarment off your torso, finally revealing your naked breasts in front of the man, and despite yourself, you squirm under the heat of his stare, bringing a hand up to cover yourself, although you don’t even get to your stomach before he’s reaching out to restrain you, eyes never leaving your chest.

“Fuck.”

You chuckle nervously. “I hope that’s a good ‘fuck’.”

“Obviously,” he spits back, although there’s not much of a bite to it. “C-can I touch them?”

You nod. “Please. Do whatever you want.”

That makes Bakugou grin even wider, though you don’t get to focus too much on his reaction before you’re groaning at his surprisingly firm grip, his big, strong hands wasting no time in fondling and groping at your breasts. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath—a curse, maybe—although you’re too dazed to decipher what it is, mind honing into nothing but the pleasure of his deft thumbs fiddling with your now-pebbled nipples.

“Your mouth, Katsuki,” you find yourself saying a minute later, eyes fluttering closed.

“…What?”

“Use—ugh—your mouth on me.”

“Oh, right. Okay.”

Now, whatever carnality you derived from Bakugou’s hands playing with your chest suddenly pales in comparison the second his warm mouth latches onto your nipple, a sensation so foreign yet so welcome that you can’t help but moan aloud, a response that immediately earns you a hand over your lips to silence you.

“Keep quiet,” he mumbles over your chest, but not before flicking over the stiff tip with his tongue, “Or else they’re gonna find out.”

To your surprise, the very thought of being caught in the act sends a wave of pleasure down your spine, making you shudder in gross anticipation—an almost imperceptible movement any ordinary man would normally miss.

Unfortunately, Bakugou is far from ordinary.

He lets go of your breast with a loud pop in favor of peering down at you, eyes narrowed into a squint. “You’re more of a pervert than I anticipated.”

That makes you flush. “I am not a pervert.”

“Sure, princess. Whatever you say.”

“I am not a pervert!”

“Shhh,” he whispers, a snarky expression written all over his features. “The more you insist, the harder it is to believe you.”

“Okay, that’s it.”

You make a move to shove him away from you and to get out of the bed, but you don’t even get to get him to budge an inch, nor get to drag your butt a foot closer towards the edge—not when he tugs you back in your place so effortlessly, once again caging you into the mattress in between his muscled arms.

He tuts. “You never let me finish, princess. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“You’re unbelievable, Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” he corrects you again, frowning. “Now, tell me. What do you want me to do to you?”

You glare up at him. “I want you to let me go.”

“Honesty, princess. I’ve been nothing but honest with you this entire night. The least you can do is return the favor.”

“…Fine,” you eventually spew after a brief moment of silence. “I want to ride you.”

Whatever Bakugou expected you to say, it definitely wasn’t that.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, didn’t you? I said I want to ride you,” you proclaim before pausing, debating on whether or not you should say the next thing, ultimately deciding on it. “I-I’ve always wanted to ride a uniformed officer, anyway.”

Bakugou lets out a choked sound. “And you say I’m the unbelievable one.”

You huff. “Are you gonna let me, or not?”

“Jesus. Stubborn and impatient,” he laughs, before leaning back to sit on his haunches. “Okay, let’s switch places, then.”

You don’t offer a rebuttal to his suggestion, opting to merely follow suit and exchange positions, albeit begrudgingly. You don’t waste another second in pulling the remaining articles of your clothing off of you, tossing your shorts and panties to the side just as Bakugou pulls down his pants to finally reveal his hardened dick, the mere size of which causes you to swallow in nervous excitement despite yourself.

“Fuck,” he groans from where he’s now laying back on the pillows, staring at your pussy. “Look at you.”

“Look at you yourself,” you retort, absentmindedly bringing a hand to your core to spread your essence over your now throbbing clit. “You’re so big.”

“Shit, staring at my dick makes you want to play with yourself?” he laughs-coughs, raising a hand to caress your bare waist. “You’re something else.”

“Hurry up and fuck me, Katsuki,” you plead, inching your way closer to the man until you’re hovering over his naked pelvis, cock standing just a few centimeters away from where you need him the most.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to ride a uniformed officer, didn’t you? Use my dick, then. Make yourself feel good on it.”

“Okay, but if I get tired, then you—”

Whatever you were planning on saying to the ash-blonde gets rudely thrown out of the proverbial window when Bakugou—without warning—thrusts up into you, fully sheathing himself into your pussy, making you choke out a strangled moan, a moan so loud that it earns you a slap to the mouth in a feeble attempt to silence you.

“Fuck,” you cry, “You—fucking—”

“I know you want to be caught like the little pervert you are, but if you want to cum before somebody barges in on us, then keep quiet.”

To that, you can only nod in resigned confirmation before Bakugou finally starts moving, hips thrusting in a stable pace—in and out, in and out—while all you can do is bite roughly on your lips, barely managing to contain your groans.

Thankfully, Bakugou notices this sooner than later, and the moment he does, he’s scooping you closer to him until your laying flat in front of him—your naked chest firmly plastered against his tightly clothed torso—seizing your mouth into another searing kiss to silence your ever growing sounds that’s slowly rivaling the distant booming of music beyond the bedroom door.

Somehow, although in hindsight you think it’s because of Bakugou’s bruising grip on your hips, you eventually start getting a grip back on reality, opting to experimentally sway your pelvis against the man’s incessant pounding, an effort that the pro-hero immediately encourages the second his cock slips a little bit deeper inside of you, causing the both of you to groan against each others lips.

“Fuck, just like that,” he rasps, arms still circled tightly around you, “You’re doing great, princess.”

You don’t respond to the praise, letting your clenching pussy speak for itself, choosing to lean back, grab his one hand and placing it on your chest instead, while taking the other and plopping it down on your thigh. And when Bakugou only glances at you in confusion—albeit not stopping his assault on your hole—you toss him a half-lidded look, before bringing his thumb to your clit.

No further words are exchanged as realization dawns on the ash-blonde’s features, fingers immediately getting to work, rubbing alternating circles and figure-eights on your bud. Acutely aware of the fact that Bakugou can’t swallow your moans away in this position anymore, you bite on your lip—hard—the sensation—mixed with the feeling of his cock nestled deep within you and his finger playing with your clit while his other hand latches onto your bare chest—prompting your orgasm to come sooner than expected.

“Fuck, Katsuki. I think I’m gonna cum.”

“Really?” Bakugou asks—tone breathy as if he can’t believe you’re actually close and it’s all because of his doing. “Cum for me, then, baby. Be a good fucking girl and cum for me.”

And, as if emboldened by your impending climax, Bakugou doubles up on his efforts, heels digging into the firm cushion to give him further leverage to thrust up into you harder—harder than ever before, all the while pressing firmly against your clit, and it’s this mind-spinning combination that finally drives you over the edge, and you cum.

And cum.

And cum.

Bakugou finishes right with you, just barely biting back a hoarse groan, hips spasming against yours as he shoots loads and loads of cum into your pussy.

You completely collapse on top of the man not too long after that, his softening dick still firmly burrowed inside of you, although neither of you make a move to remove it. You vaguely register Bakugou’s arms coming up to wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him, though you can’t find it in you to complain.

A brief moment of stillness passes between you.

It’s Bakugou, though, who ultimately breaks the silence.

“You didn’t just fuck me because I was dressed in a uniform, did you?”

“Uh…”

He jolts underneath you, snapping to look at your face. Unable to hold back, you glance up at him, laughing.

“I’m just kidding, you big idiot. I’d fuck and date you even if you were dressed as a fire hydrant.”

Bakugou huffs—borderline snorts—before lying back down onto the pillows, smiling. “Good.”

A barrage of knocks resounds from the doorway.

You and Bakugou whip to look at each other, eyes wide with alarm.

“Uh, guys?” comes a muffled voice, which you can only guess belongs to Mina, “I’m happy you two finally fucked, but come on, seriously? My bedroom?”

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[softtdaisy]

the one that got away / Aaron Hotchner

summary. you were Aaron's best friend. sometimes you were more but most of the time you were the one that got away until you weren't

words count. 6 900

what to expect. Haley is present so mention of her death, smoking (if some of you don't like it) I changed some of the show timeline to fit the story 18+ MDNI oral female & male receiving (but honestly blink and I'll miss it)

a/n. i have such deep feelings for this story I even have a playlist in my head that fits their story, I could write so much more but I had to stop lol

Aaron Hotchner series masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

Aaron Hotchner had a best friend.

This single idea was new to him. Aaron had friends—see the lack of “best” in front of the name? He had school friends, good friends, and close friends. But never a best friend, someone he knew would stick by his side no matter what. 

Maybe it was the remains of his childhood and the consequences of growing up in a household where love was something to be deserved, not natural. He never imagined he could be appreciated enough to be considered someone’s favorite person.

More than that, if he had to imagine having a best friend, Aaron thought it would be a guy. Some buddy from school, a classmate he got along with, someone he went on some extracurricular activities with. But not a female best friend.

Yet, there he was. 

Or actually, there you were.

“What do you think?” He heard you say it when you walked in the living room.

Aaron was sitting on your couch—like most of his days—rolling his cigarette. He kept saying he was going to quit. Anytime the tobacco sachet was almost over, he would say it was the last one. Then someone would ask if he could share some, and Aaron wouldn’t have enough, so he’d go to buy one. And the circle begins again.

A part of him also loved the control he had over this. He relished the power of precisely measuring the right amount of tobacco. The relaxation of rolling the paper with his fingers, taking the time to make it thin and just like he wanted it to be. The two seconds spent licking it, finishing his own product. And finally, the relief of the first puff—he still hadn’t found anything comparable. Or actually, he did. But it was easier to smoke than to get an orgasm these days.

His tongue was still on the paper when he looked up to you.

“You look…” pretty, gorgeous, amazing. “Very nice.”

The words got stuck in his throat and lost in his mind when he saw you. Not only were you and Aaron sharing the same course and sitting next to each other in most classes, but you were also living in the same building. It didn’t take you long to become friends—that, he knew how to deal with. 

But there was something more than that, a deep connection between the two of you that he couldn’t explain. A small part of him was convinced that he stayed by your sides mostly to understand the reason he felt so linked to you. 

But the loudest voice in his head knew that Aaron simply appreciated feeling important in someone’s life and, for once, knowing what it felt like to have a best friend.

You had convinced him, again, to follow you to a party tonight. You dealt with his introverted side better than anyone he knew. Or maybe he simply couldn’t say no to you. Not when you gave him this look: Bambi eyes and a soft smile that said you could never be mad at him, no matter his answer. Giving him the feeling it wouldn’t be fair to refuse.

Because Aaron knew there would be two solutions. Either you wouldn’t go at all if he wasn’t coming. Or you would and might find someone to replace him. 

He couldn’t handle being the reason you didn’t enjoy your night. The second possibility, however, wasn’t fair. At all. And he knew that.

“Ok, I’ll take very nice.” You laughed, extending your hand to him. 

With your hand in his, Aaron considered changing his answer. Admitting that you looked more than nice. That the dress you chose to wear seemed to be made for you. If he was honest, he would say that you looked like some goddess that made him regret not following some mythological classes.

But Aaron couldn’t be honest. Again, the remains of his childhood were echoing in his head like a distant memory—or haunting voice. His dad, claiming that he had to make boy friends. His mom, asking if the classmate he was working with—whose name he would mistakenly give—was his girlfriend. His brother never had girl friends, only girlfriends. 

Aaron refused to acknowledge the attraction he had for you, fearing he would ruin your friendship. The most precious thing in his life at the moment.

And so he also ignored your hand on his chest, smoothing his white shirt. And focused on the cigarette in his mouth. Reassurance, he needed reassurance. 

“You’re very nice yourself, Aaron,” you added, stealing his cigarette with your fingertips. Brushing his lips with them. 

He couldn’t stop looking at you, putting your mouth right where his own used to be. Smoking from the tube he made himself. Taking something from him. Wishing you could take more from him.

The last thought didn’t last long. Not when you joked about something else right after giving him his cig back. Not when you dragged him by the hand outside to the party you were dying to go to. 

You kept talking the whole journey to your classmate's house. Invading his thoughts so his own wouldn’t take too much place, wouldn’t speak louder than your own ideas. 

“Are you going home for the holiday?” 

This was more than a genuine question. You had talked about it, late and drunk at night, sharing his bed when your apartment seemed too far, when loneliness seemed like the worst disease. He didn’t want to go. He felt like he had to. You offered to come. But he never replied.

Little did you know that Aaron had put a plan on your back.

When he opened his mouth to answer, still unsure which words to use, he got cut off by someone calling him. Him. Aaron Hotchner, the boy you barely saw with someone other than you, being called by a girl.

A blonde student that you remembered seeing from afar more than once this week. Good-looking and with a nice attitude. Or at least that was what you could tell from the smile she was offering your friend, your Aaron. 

“That’s…Haley. We work on a project together for the theater club.” You made a bet at the beginning of the year to sign the other up for an activity where you wouldn’t see them. You selfishly chose the theater for Aaron, particularly with the idea of making him practice. You never imagined he would love it. 

You never imagined it would take him away from you. 

“She is nice. Very nice.” Aaron didn’t realize his mistake until he noticed the very small step back you took. He then grabbed your hand, trying to keep you close. Holding you here physically and mentally. “She said she would go out tonight, but I didn’t realize it would be at the same party.”

It wasn’t the first time you saw the conflict in his eyes. That man was in a perpetual fight with himself. Unable to choose the right option in case the other one was better. Too scared of making a mistake every second.

Staying up late or sleeping early. Going to every class or skipping the optional ones. You or Haley. 

And sometimes, you had to make the choice for him. Leaving his apartment so he could go to sleep. Going to the optional class you planned on missing just because you knew he would feel guilty.

Letting go of his hand tonight. “Go,” you simply said. “We’ll meet later.” 

“You’re sure?”

A part of him wanted to go. To see that girl, to taste her lips, to feel loved on another level, and to get something he refused to ask you. Another part wished he could stay with you, spending another night safe by your sides. 

You put on a cheeky smile and used your free hand to push him forward. “She won’t wait forever, Aaron,” you laughed. Trying hard not to let him know that you, you would wait for forever.

He gave you one last look. Looking for any sign in your eyes that you didn’t mean it. But you were a good liar. And Aaron wasn’t a profiler. So he nodded with a genuine smile and put a kiss on your forehead, one that lasted longer than it should have, longer than it would have if it wasn’t you. 

So you watched as he walked to Haley. She greeted him with a hug, and even from where you were standing, you could see her smile. So bright. This was the effect this man had on people, and he couldn’t see it. You heard him laugh at something she said. 

And before they entered the house, his arm around her shoulder, Aaron turned his head to look at you. Again. Just to be sure, he said. 

The worst part was that you knew that he would come back, right here and right now, if you asked him. That he would let down everything for you. Even the girl he seemed to have a crush on. All he needed was one sign, one word, one thing. 

But you couldn’t do that. Instead, you waved your hands goodbye. Encouraging him to leave. Ignoring the pieces of your broken heart falling on the floor.

It wasn’t your place to be jealous of her. Aaron Hotchner was your best friend and nothing more.

Aaron Hotchner was getting married.

Or was he?

His life took a turn he couldn’t imagine, not even in his wildest dream—maybe because most of his dreams used to be different back then. 

He had been dating Haley for years now. And nothing could explain his relationship with her better than just it making sense. Seeing her every morning, kissing her any occasion he got, and making love to her in the bed they bought together. This was the concept of a couple that he had always pictured. And Aaron was happy. 

The only black spot in his life was you. Not you. But the fact that you weren’t living in the same city anymore. If he was still in Washington, you moved to New York after you graduated. From seeing each other every single day during college, you barely saw each other more than twice a year because of your jobs. You called from time to time, but nothing would ever be the same as being your neighbors and coming to your place on any occasion he had. 

Worse than that, you never saw each other without Haley around. Aaron hated to think that. He hated that the thought kept coming back anytime he remembered your moments together these past years. Especially since the two of you got along and you clearly didn’t seem to mind hanging around his girlfriend. There was even a picture of the two of you on the fridge at some Halloween party the couple threw. 

Haley loved this picture. She said it was a nice reminder of how important you were in Aaron’s life—and hers too, technically. How much she cared about her friendship with you. And how she didn’t want him to feel pressured to choose one day between you and her. Sadly, she had no idea that he didn’t need anyone to pressure him. Because any time he looked at this picture, the green-eyed monster had the pleasure of reminding him that you left the party with someone else. 

He almost found it funny how you, too, were stuck in front of this picture, looking at it. Or maybe it was the fact you borrowed one of his sweaters after the weather dropped last night that made the situation even funnier.

Or maybe it was the fact that he and Haley got into a fight last week, making her leave to her sister’s place for a few days to clear her mind. 

“She is very special, Aaron.” 

He knew that tone. The one you used when you said something sincere—because you truly thought Haley was a very special girl, you appreciated her as much as she liked you. But that you also used when you were trying to bury something else at the same time. 

Of course she was special. Of course you wanted your best friend to be happy, and it would be the biggest lie of your life to say he wasn’t cheerful with her. 

But of course there was still a small voice in your head reminding you that you wished it was you. Creating memories with him in this apartment. Having pictures of you on the walls, choosing the sofa together, and having dinner on this counter with the tableware you bought together.

You focused on the aching of your heart for a second, not the steps Aaron was making behind you. It wasn’t until his chest was against your back that you noticed his presence. That you felt the heat of his body invading yours. Your eyes followed the movement of his arm when he stretched it next to your waist to put his hand on the counter in front of you. Trapping you in an embrace. 

“Yes, she is,” he whispered, making you realize how close his mouth was to your ear. You could feel his breath on your skin, making you shiver at the thought you hadn’t been this close with Aaron in years. 

Long was the time when you would share a bed at college, when you would wake up with one of his arms against your chest in an unconscious protective behavior.

Your heart could actually explode at the memory of looking at this man in the morning. How the sun was reflecting on his still sweet and young face. How his sleepy breathing and his heartbreaking were lulling you. How the hair on his arms was usually tickling you in the softest way. How you wished there was a secret spelling to stay like this forever.

But there wasn’t, and Aaron had never been yours. Not then, especially not now.

So you turned around to face him, closing the distance. Your face is closer to his, your noses almost bumping when he takes a step forward. 

“You love her.” 

It was a desperate cry. An unfair, desperate cry. 

Aaron wasn’t a liar; he never was. He couldn’t imagine denying his love for Haley, even with his lips so close to yours; he didn’t have much to do to finally kiss you. And you weren’t even asking him to do so. You needed him to be honest. With you. With him.

You could tell it was hurting him to face his indecision when it came to the two of you. His breath got stuck, and he looked up in a desperate way to find an answer. But there was none. None other than the one he knew was the right one, the fair one. The one he shouldn’t even hesitate about.

When he laid his eyes on you, Aaron could see how hard it was for you too to be trapped in some kind of messed-up love triangle that wasn’t even one to begin with. You never confessed any feelings—except for the casual and friendly I love you. You were free to go. He had to free you from this.

You looked at Adam's apple, how this single thing seemed like the symbol of Aaron’s swallowing his feelings for you. You just had the time to reach his eyes again before he said,. “You’re right. I do.” 

For a few seconds, you stayed there. With your face so close, you could memorize every single detail that had changed in each other's past years. With your lips so close, you could do the undefendable. With both of your hearts beating so fast, like they were fighting to gather. With the reality of something you couldn’t get right in front of you.

“We should go,” you said in a voice that sounded more broken than intended. “I don’t want to miss the beginning of the movie.”

You patted Aaron’s shoulder before walking to the bedroom to change. Letting his sweat on the bed, right where it belonged. And he watched you leave the room and pretended that everything was fine. 

Aaron never told you about the ring waiting on his bedside table. He never told you how one single word could have changed everything—not that he needed to; you could understand that yourself.

You simply learned, a few weeks later, that your best friend was engaged to the woman he loved. And this woman wasn’t you. 

Aaron Hotchner got divorced.

At this point in his life, he felt like he wasn’t someone worth fighting for. Which was a selfish thought. Everything pointed to him being the one responsible for his separation from Haley. And Aaron knew it was true. 

Aaron should have fought harder for his marriage and done everything to prove to her that he loved her. That his family was all that mattered. The worst part was that all of this was true; he simply didn’t have the tools to show it better. 

After joining the BAU, even though he had found a new family to rely on, Aaron felt like he had lost all the important people in his life. He had lost his wife, and his wedding ring felt more like a deadly trap around his finger now than a love promise.

But he had lost you too, or at least that was how he felt. 

He has been seeing you less and less. The cases were taking much of his time, and when he was home, he was spending time with Jack. Trying to be a better dad than his father was. And weeks went by, and he had a hard time freeing just a couple of hours for you. Even for talking. Just talking.

This was the excuse he used to explain why he used his day off to fly to New York and come to your place. It was your third apartment in the city. Something broke inside him when he realized that he helped you move into the first one, but he had no idea what the second even looked like. Where it was, how many rooms you had, and how you decorated it. Who lived there with you when he couldn’t free a single day for his best friend.

Or maybe that was the thought that broke him the hardest. Having no idea he was still your best friend or if he was the only one keeping the fire alive. Aaron wouldn’t blame you if it was the case. Even his wife extinguished the fire between them.

Aaron had imagined the whole scene. Ringing at your door, you would open it and hug him like you always did. Making him feel like he was in his twenties again and not a divorced single dad in his forties. 

He should have known that nothing ever happened like he imagined it when it came to you.

“Aaron Hotchner, you swore that you had quit smoking the last time I saw you.”

He turned around, indeed with a cigarette consuming in between his fingers. A bad habit that had come back when he had to sign the papers that changed his life. 

You could see the confusion all over his face when he finally laid his eyes on you. You found it funny, though, considering he was surprised to see you in front of your own building where you lived. 

And a laugh finally escaped your lips when he whispered, “You’re here.” Aaron didn’t take the time to finish his cigarette—he couldn’t care less about it anymore—before rushing to you and taking you in his arms. As the years went by, he was less tactile with others. But you. He could never get tired of your embrace.

Aaron never felt more alive than today, with your body pressed against his and his nose buried in your hair that still smells like the good old days. With his large hands covering your back and your little laugh in his ear.

“I’m the one who should say that,” you laughed again, hugging him harder. Too scared that he might disappear the moment you let him go. 

You both took a step back at the same time to look at each other and acknowledge that, yes. You were reunited again. 

You couldn’t believe Aaron was back in your life. And soon he was back in your place, sitting on your sofa, drinking wine from your own glasses. Like the years hadn’t gone by.

“So here I am.” 

He drank the last drop of his wine after finishing his story. The least to say was that you were lost for words after hearing your best friend almost die more than once. There was a time when he would have called you to tell you about this. It hurt to know you were so far from him now. 

It was hard to realize you weren’t a starring role in his life anymore. 

But instead of crying about it—you were at fault too by keeping Aaron away to protect your heart—you laughed, pretending this was nothing. Yeah, nothing seemed to be what you were, too.

“More wine,” you said, hitting your thighs with your palms. “We need more wine.”

You got up too fast and lost your balance immediately. Aaron was quick at bringing his hands on your waist to catch your fall. Instead of putting you back on the sofa, he stabilized you on his lap. 

Bringing you back to a time when you were two students, two best friends stupidly and blindly in love, too young to realize that sitting on his lap meant more than just sitting. That this was your favorite place in the entire world. It still was. 

Now closer than ever to Aaron, you brought your hands to his face to look at him. Sure, the years had done some damage to him. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, so prominent they probably won’t ever go away. And the wrinkles here and there, reminding you that he was getting older too. 

But mostly, you could still see the man you loved. The beauty marks on his cheeks you memorized through your sleepless nights. The little and almost invisible scar on his chin when you bet you could shave his beard. The pink of his lips you had too many dreams about kissing. 

Dreams Aaron had too. 

This time, it didn’t have to stay a dream.

He was the one to close the gap. The one to put one of his hands on your neck to bring your face closer. Soon, his lips were on yours. In a kiss that lit up the fireworks in both of your hearts. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck while your hips were rocking against his lips, trying to make one with him. His resting hand on your back went under your shirt, meeting your skin again. You could feel the roughness of his fingertips, imagining how it must have felt between your legs. 

“I need more, Aaron,” you moaned against his lips, pleading for him to finally offer you what you’ve been dreaming of for two decades now.

You let out a small scream when he laid you down on your sofa, still above you. “You do?” he asked. At the same time, teasing you about your desire but also to get the confirmation he needed that you wanted it just as much as he did.

As an answer, you grabbed the tie still around his neck to bring his face closer to yours. “I’ve always wanted it,” you hissed before giving a last kiss. Not that you meant for it to be the last. But after hearing you, Aaron was quick to let his lips explore your body.

Your neck that he had been dying to kiss you from the first day he met you, with your silly necklaces shining against your delicate skin. 

Your collarbone made him feel like some teenager seeing a woman’s body for the very first time.

Your chest so perfect to him, from the size of it to the color of your nipples, which was so perfect he couldn't resist taking them in his mouth. And the moans that came out of your mouth were a good indicator that he wasn’t the only one who thought about this before.

He created a path of kisses from under your chest to the bottom of your stomach. And soon, after undressing you with his eyes, you were naked under your best friend’s body. 

“I’ve been dying to do this, sweetheart.” Aaron said, unsure if he said it for him or for you. It didn’t matter actually because he didn’t give you the time to answer before he finally got to taste you. And except for the moment you grabbed his hair, making sure he was going to leave until you came—which wasn’t his plan and wouldn’t take long anyway—you couldn’t remember the timeline of the event.

All you knew was how great his tongue felt against your lips. How his fingers went into you so easily and the little comment he made about how he didn't know how he survived without doing it before. How he kept looking up to you, looking for the pleasure in your eyes, and his smile you felt against your lips when he saw it.

He was working fast yet so precisely in you, building your orgasm to a point of no return.

He didn’t do it once. He did it so many times that night you actually lost count. Even when it was your mouth on him, he managed to make you cum with his words. And the way he asked you to take care of yourself at the same time. “I don’t want to stop pleasuring you, not even now,” he said. Which was easily the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

It was three am when his phone rang. Penelope. A new case. And Aaron had to be Hotch again.

One look at you, and he could tell you were still peacefully sleeping. On your stomach, your naked back offering him a path of kisses he wanted to create. He brought a single finger to touch your skin. One reminder that this was real. That for one night, you were his. 

He didn’t have the time to think about his life choices, how maybe in another life this was the view he could have gotten every single day. How there might be a version of him somewhere who wasn’t drowning in the regrets of not confessing his love for you. 

But then life called him to order when his phone lit up again and he saw his lock lockscreen. Jack. Aaron had no right having regrets about his life when it gave him the most important gift. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hoping that you could hear him in your dream. Or maybe not. You looked so innocently happy, having no idea that he was leaving you again. 

And like a thief, Aaron left in the middle of the night. Going back to a life where there was still a missing piece. His best friend that he kept pushing away.

Aaron Hotchner was risking his life again.

He felt like a horrible person when he said that, but if it weren’t for Jack, he wouldn’t have anything worth living for anymore. And sometimes, the voice in his head was even louder than his father's responsibility. Not often, hopefully.

But it happened. Like today, when he put himself in front of the unsub to protect Penelope—something he had no regret doing at all. What he should have done, however, was check the situation more precisely before turning himself into the perfect target. 

Derek could shoot him from where he was.

Emily could shoot him from where she was.

Even he could have probably been able to shoot him where he was.

But the only thought in his mind was that if someone had to get hurt today on his team, it would be him.

The unsub was quick to understand his state of mind and shot him in the neck.

The next thing Aaron knew, he was waking up—again—in a hospital room by himself. Quite the story of his life, he had to admit. Alone and hurt.

Except this time, Aaron wasn’t all alone. 

He didn’t realize he had fallen back to sleep until another sound was added to the hospital melody: quiet but the bip of the machine next to him and the nurses’ distant conversations. There was a breath, close to him, and then a laugh when he inadvertently frowned his brows. A laugh he could recognize in a room full of people. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice still sounded groggy from the operation and the hours of sleep he got. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know it was you.

“You’re the one I should ask that,” you laughed, which brought a smile to his face. You laughed intentionally in a room where he was. For a second, he settled for this. For the sweet sound of your laugh, it was one of his favorite melodies. To know there was a world where you could still be happy together.

And when he finally opened his eyes, Aaron turned his head to look at you. His view was a little blurry, and the sun behind you made it even harder. Or maybe you truly were an angel. 

To be honest, the idea of having you here quite sounded like a divine appearance.

“From what the lovely Penelope told me,” you explained, taking a step closer to his bed. “When you got shot, you asked your team to call me.” 

Aaron had no memories from that. Well, he had no memories from the scene at all, so it wasn’t a surprise that his brain also erased his moment of weakness when his heart spoke for him. 

Because what he remembered, actually, was seeing your face when he lost consciousness. In a desperate way to see his best friend before passing out and—who knew?—maybe dying.

He had to push away the thought that, of all the people that mattered one day in his life, you were the one that came to his mind in the worst moment. Maybe Aaron had to accept that you meant more than what he had been trying to pretend all this time.

“And I’m glad you did,” you whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “If something had happened, at least I could have said goodbye to you.”

This was the first thought you had when you got the call. When Aaron started working at the BAU, you feared hearing from Haley. Telling you he hadn’t come home and wouldn’t ever. As the years went by, your fear lowered—but never disappeared. But after his divorce, you knew that if Aaron wasn’t calling you, you had no chance to learn about an accident. Or worse, his own death.

You had reached a point in your relationship where you weren’t even sure you would be called for your best friend's funeral. So to be able to see him today, maybe for what could be the last time, was an opportunity you wouldn’t miss.

Even now, you knew there was a high possibility you could never forget the image of Aaron lying on this hospital bed. His skin was so pale it was in competition with the sheet for the whitest thing in the room. With this huge bandage on his neck and the numerous machines keeping him alive.

You were glad to be there. And so was Aaron. Thinking that everything was good between the two of you again after his runaway.

It wasn’t until Aaron reached for your hand that he noticed it. 

“You’re engaged?”

This was a stupid question. Of course you were. That ring on your finger probably cost thousands of dollars—and still didn’t equal your worth in his eyes. It wasn’t there the last time. But the last time was such a long time ago. Aaron lost his wife for good; you had time to find a partner.

“To whom? Do I know him?” 

Is he good to you? Does he treat you right? Do you love him?

So many questions were running in his head and were close to escaping his mouth. How unfair it was that he needed answers he never gave you.

“Don’t.” You sighed. “Don’t do that, Aaron.”

You freed your hand from his fingers, letting go of a touch you’ve craved for so long. His touch that used to be a symbol of saving for you was burning you right now. You even brought your other hand to massage your skin, like it physically hurt you.

“You have no right to my sentimental life, and you know that. Not after getting married yourself. Not after leaving me in the middle of the night with no explanation.”

You never talked about that night in New York. 

You slept in that morning. You could never have imagined that you would wake up to an empty space after falling asleep next to the man that had been haunting your dreams for so long. Yet, Aaron was not there and didn’t leave a single message. He didn’t even text you until a week later with a simple “Sorry for leaving” that you left on read.

For the very first time in your life, you hated Aaron Hotchner. And it took you weeks to let go of that feeling. To associate his name with the many good memories you had with him. And to put aside the wound not only he caused through the years—something your therapist helped you realize—but made deeper with his last action. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” you replied with a sad smile. 

You couldn’t resist bringing a hand to his face, the one without the ring—you still loved him enough to not cause him any more pain. He cuddled against your palm while you brushed his skin softly.

“Are we still friends?”

His question hit you right in the heart. Because even at the worst time, you never doubted that.

“You’re my best friend, Aaron.”

You stayed for a few more minutes, until he got a text saying Jack was coming over with Haley’s sister. 

Watching you leave, Aaron realized one thing.

He had messed up many things in his life until now. But there were two things he was going to fight for.

Being the amazing dad Jack deserved.

Saving his relationship with you.

Aaron Hotchner was happy.

The happiest he had been in many years.

After his trip to the hospital, he realized that the passion he felt for his job and the gratitude he had for his found family were important. But not as important as taking care of him and his son. Aaron made the promise, the day he left that hospital room, to be a better person in his personal life.

It started with Jack, of course, and spending more time with him. In everyday life it was simply sharing breakfast in the morning and dining with him every single time he was in town. When he was away for a case, he would make sure to chat with him on the phone every night. Doing more activities, taking more days off, and leaving the city so it would be just the two of them. It didn’t know if he was doing a perfect job, but Aaron could tell his relationship with Jack was doing better.

“I’m ready, Daddy!” the boy said, running to Aaron in the sand with his Knicks cap on. That stupid cap that he refused to take away because it was a gift and “we don’t throw gifts away.” At least Derek and David didn’t know his son was supporting another team than theirs.

Aaron brought a hand to Jack’s back to pat him nicely. “Did you see her inside?”

“She said to tell you she’ll be there in two minutes.” Jack replied, showing three fingers—perfectly coping with the thing he saw inside.

Aaron remembered how you were already doing this at college, trying to mess with his head by saying something but showing another. Knowing damn well he would have waited all his life for you.

That’s what he did.

Because the other change he made in his life after you came to see him at the hospital was to save his relationship with you. 

It started with daily messages about life and silly things. Aaron was glad to see you still loved to chat about the simplest things: the show you were watching, the market you loved to go to, and your neighbor’s cat who came to cuddle you every morning. 

Weekly calls were added to the equation. He cherished them so much, no matter if they happened when he was at home making dinner or when he was away and needed a shoulder to cry on. 

Jack met you like that the first time. He came to say hi while his dad was talking with you on speaker, preparing a meal you loved to make for him when you were a student. That same night, Jack asked many questions about you. It was the first time Aaron talked about another woman other than Haley to him.

It was also the first time in years he saw the pictures of you and her that were on his fridge back then. 

“She is your best friend?” Jack asked when he went to bed, still into the conversation after hours.

And Aaron thought about it. All the things you went through and how this friendship almost died. Yet, the feelings never changed in his heart. The answer was obvious to him.

“Yes, buddy, she is.”

The first time you came to see them in Quantico, the first thing Aaron noticed…well, the second, the first being how beautiful you always were. So the second thing Aaron noticed was that nothing was shining on your hand anymore. No more rings. No more engagement. 

It wasn’t until late at night, when you lay next to each other on his bed, that he finally pointed it out. “Should I consider he’s gone?” 

His back was against the headboard, but you were already lying on your side, your hand carefully traveling on his chest. 

You looked up to him with a small smile, almost looking shy. You never were shy with him. “He’s gone,” you first replied before clearing your throat. “He actually has been since I saw you.” 

You watched his expression change from the seriousness of his first question to the confusion of your answer. And then to some surprise but mostly to softness at the idea you chose him. Again. 

If you could see the weight disappearing from his heart, you could easily guess it happened from the smile on his face. 

Aaron leaned in, a hand falling on your cheek softly. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

“Kiss me then,” you whispered back. Delighted to feel his lips on yours again after so many years. But mostly, to feel so connected to Aaron on a level you had never reached before. 

You spend your first night together like this, simply kissing and cuddling until you fall asleep with your head on his chest. To the sound of his heart peacefully beating and the feeling that something finally felt right in your life. For both of us.

You saw each other often, here in Quantico or at your place in New York. Just the two of you, or with Jack sometimes. Jack, who immediately fell for you and was always so excited to spend a day with you.

“I’m here!” Aaron finally heard you say, rushing to meet them. He turned around to watch you—he couldn’t imagine not looking at you any moment he got. Not when you looked so pretty in your summer dress, not when you looked so happy with your big smile on your life -not when he knew the red marks were still on your chest from last night. 

Not when, once you reached them, you kneeled to kiss Jack on the hair. Before leaning to give Aaron a kiss on the lips. “I said I would be quick,” you smiled against his lips.

He brought a hand to your back, keeping you against him longer than you intended. “Happy anniversary,” he whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. One even Jack couldn’t hear—not that he seemed to bother, looking for shells in the sand.

More than two decades ago, you and Aaron met in a shared class and became friends. When things got serious between you two, you offered him to take some days off and spend them at your beach house—one you bought but he never got to see. You weren’t sure he would get the message.

But it was Aaron. He knew everything about you.

“Thank you for being my best friend,” he added before giving you another kiss. 

And when you reached for his hand, you knew what it meant. 

You were Aaron Hotchner’s best friend. And he was deeply in love with you. 

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee @raysmayhem-72 @kajjaka @pastelpinkflowerlife @winyourheartemma (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[charlie-shmarlie]

They see you in a swimsuit for the first time pt1: headcanons

Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson

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Steve Rogers

It's actually kind of crazy because your swimsuit isn't even all that revealing. It's just a simple pastel pink two-piece. The bottoms are short shorts, and the top is a halter style tankini. But man, oh man, did it take Steve by surprise.

You gotta remember, this man is from the 1940s. He is NOT used to seeing that much skin.

He's extremely respectful, though. Despite struggling internally, he keeps his focus on your face, not letting his gaze drift down any further past your neck.

That jaw is clenched, but he looks as cool as a cucumber.

He can't help but feel a little unsettled about you going out in public wearing something like that. Although it's modest by today's standards, it's a bit...provocative by his.

He just doesn't like the idea of someone else being able to eye you up so easily. But won't ask you to change because he, obviously, doesn't want to be selfish or controlling.

Keeps a close eye on all of the men at the beach, making sure none of them are looking at you in any way that could be construed as disrespectful.

Subtle protective hand on your shoulder.

Has a moment of internal relief when you finally put your cover up on.

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Thor Odinson

Let's be real, Thor is probably the least subtle being in all of the realms. He physically cannot be secretive or stealthy about, well, anything. So, when you reappeared from the bedroom wearing the gold silken bikini he bought you last week, his change in demeanor was blatant.

Immediately gets up from wherever he's sitting and stomps right up to you, his smile wide and full of admiration as his gaze trails over your curves.

"By the Norns..."

Hands glued to your waist. No, they're not moving any time soon.

Now, Thor's a himbo, not some wild beast, so of course he keeps his gaze respectful (or at least tries to). He would feel horrible if he ever accidentally made you feel uncomfortable.

Get ready for a bucket load of poetic praises.

He can't help himself from staring at you while you sunbathe on the hot, white sand of a nearby Asgardian beach. He'll sit right by your side just taking you in.

Shoulder kisses. That is all.

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Bruce Banner

One word: awkward.

The moment he saw you in that periwinkle one-piece, it was all over for the poor guy.

He tries to subtly avoid eye contact as much as possible and kinda just darts his gaze between your eyes and the wall past your head. Only problem? It's super obvious.

Gets flustered when you call him out on it.

"Huh?? No, no, what? No, I'm not avoiding you. Why would I avoid you? You think I'm avoiding you?? I wouldn't avoid you-"

Yes, he's your boyfriend. Yes, he's seen you in outfits more revealing than that before. But this is, apparently, "different."

His body works completely against him. Every now and then, without meaning to, his eyes will drift downwards as he's talking to you about whatever. Although it only lasts seconds before he catches himself and begins to stutter over his words.

Absolutely notices if people are staring at you, but he won't say anything. He doesn't want any confrontations and figures his insecurities aren't important enough to start a fight over.

Might subtly suggest you put your cover up on as soon as your out of the water. Just so you don't get sunburnt! Heh..yeah that's it-

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Loki Laufeyson

As soon as his eyes catch sight of you in that little, ruffly, white two-piece, they are never leaving.

"Well...well... now, what do we have here?"

Shamelessly checking you out. He does not care if you notice (which, how could you NOT). He's practically eating you alive with that stare. It takes a lot of restraint for him to not just walk over to the door, lock it, and-

Essentially slithers up to you for a...closer look. Hands roaming your form. You might have to remind him not to get too handsy. Which he'll respect, obviously.

"Loki, my eyes are up here." / "Loki, not right now."

"Damn."

He, for one, doesn't mind anyone at the beach seeing you dressed up like that. He rather sees it as an opportunity to gloat and show off what only he can have. Although, if he notices anyone looking at you in a way that pushes the boundaries, he won't hesitate to 'remove them'.

And to get the message across that you are indeed taken, he will ALWAYS be touching you.

1. To prove the point.

2. Just because.

Typically keeps an arm snaked around your waist, holds your hand, or just stands almost unreasonably close to you.

He also hates swimming and being in the sun in general, so he'll just stay on the beach, fully clothed, under an umbrella, with a book, taking sneaky glances at you out in the water.

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[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

screw you guys here's more about her:

no one in kronos' army ever bothered to actually teach her anything other than fighting, like they just aged her up magically and threw a sword at her. so she picked pretty much everything up second hand. her speech is a bit funny and has a little weird accent. her sea legs and fighting stances are great but when she's just walking she's the type of kid who flails and bumps bc they can't get used to how gangly their limbs are. her hair is long and unkempt bc she doesn't know what to do about it. she always looks too thin and ill bc the rapid growth spurts seconds after being born can't be good for you. she usually just wears Whatever she can find without putting much thought into it but I love the idea of her having like a big super ugly cardigan that's her absolute comfort sweater she won't part with even in 10000 degree weather. she never wore any makeup until she met thalia and begged her to teach her how to do the raccoon eyes eyeliner look lol but that's like the closest she gets to outward self expression bc she's got a lot of problems with depersonalization, obviously.

I'm thinking they manage to get a good stab on percy somewhere during or soon after titan's curse, and she shows up to camp a little before battle of the labyrinth. she's already there for at least a couple weeks before percy turns up for the summer, but everyone thinks she's weird as hell and avoids her. percy's not trying to repeat past mistakes with tyson tho so he's going all out to bond (even tho he also thinks she's weird and has Very Strong Things he wants to say to poseidon if he ever starts responding to messages again)

her cover story luke gave her is that her mother was aware of the prophecy and raised her hidden away from civilization as much as she could, which is supposed to explain why she barely knows anything other than fighting and why even the gods didn't have her on their radar

'my names antigone'

percy: 'why would your mother do that to you. we're calling you tiggy effective immediately'

tiggy, can't read, doesn't know what a play is 'why???'

annabeth: 'you'll thank us when you get to the tragedies unit in the lit class in a couple months'

her mission was pretty much like 'get percy to trust you' but like 3 minutes into their first meeting he's already ready to die for her so she's a bit confused on what to do lmfao. luke is like 'well we aren't ready to attack just gather information' and she's like percy is the only one who talks to me and no one tells HIM anything!!!!! lol but she does her best to sneak around and ease drop. she even managed to steal annabeth's hat one time, but when annabeth caught her she assumed tiggy took it because she was so uncomfortable around people and had a whole one-sided bonding moment with her about it

she's just very like....baby deer vibes. she has the aura of a prey animal. no one suspects her of being a spy at all.

which ends up working in kronos' favor

she also manages to get under percy's skin, coming up with a whole story about how poseidon knew about her the whole time but her mother accepted the offer sally turned down. says she's only there because her mother recently was killed by oceanus so poseidon sent her to camp to be safe, but he still didn't want her involved in the war. makes percy feel disposable to his father and disrupts his trust you get the vibes.

and she TRIES not to get attached to percy. she knows she's his daughter in some weird magic way, but she also knows the titans are either going to kill him OR get him to accept being kronos' host, and in the very short time she's been alive it's been hammered into her that she owes nothing to him, she's only here because of kronos, she owes everything to him and the army, blah blah blah. but like. it's percy. she doesn't understand a single thing about him but she can't help but be charmed. she can't help but wish they had more in common than their genetic code. she can't help but listen to his offhand stories about sally and wish she had a normal relationship with him. the longer her mission drags on the less she wants to betray him. but she knows she doesn't really have a choice in the matter.

she gets involved in the quest, she sabotages all of annabeth's plans to get through the labyrinth best she can. eventually the big reveal happens. they try to use her as a bargaining chip- if percy agrees to be the host he'd actually get to protect her, stuff like that. the worst part of the age magic torture scene is that it's clearly not the first time she's been through it. percy's in absolute fucking crisis. he almost gives in but he's knocked out before he can say the spell because. plot. screw you it's 4am right now.

anyway by the time that books done she's flipped sides. not because she feels any particular way about the gods but because the genuine horror and pain from percy is what made her realize the army was fucked up. it's her literal first experience of being cared for. at no point in their 'let's make a percy clone' plan did they consider she might be just as fiercely loyal to her loved ones as he is, and kronos never made her love him. she's smart though, and is doing double agent shit. they titans still think they've got big three powers on their side even if they haven't nabbed a prophecy child yet.

poseidon meets her when he rocks up to percy's birthday party and is like "hey what the fuck<3" lmfao but after he's filled in on the situation properly he lets her know she's got the full seafam benefits like just get to the water she'll be fine. and she does end up sleeping in random underwater caves more often than not on her various double agent travels.

percy and her from this point on are PAINFUL around each other. they never really know what to say to each other and are both convinced they're constantly hurting each other. he doesn't want her traveling around getting involved in the war no matter how helpful it may be, he wants her to be safe. she doesn't want him to waste energy worrying about her when this is possibly his last year alive. she's deeply aware that she was only created to hurt him. he's deeply aware that she was only created and hurt BECAUSE of him. their guilt complexes know no bounds. they both secretly wish she could be a normal child, but the thought of her being magically deaged again makes them both nauseous, and they both feel guilty for even thinking that in the first place- percy, because he knows how important gaining her autonomy is to her and tiggy because why would she want to make his life even harder by forcing actual parenthood on him? percy feels like he has an open wound and tiggy feels like she is a wound. do they ever talk about any of this? no they just walk on eggshells around each other. I hate them.

ooooouuggggh when he goes missing in hoo. she's obviously one of the many people out looking for him. her and annabeth bond a lot during this time.

well it's more like annabeth absolutely screaming at the top of her lungs about how worried she's been about her when they bump into each other and then dragging her into a coffee shop to catch up. she'd been keeping tabs with chiron since she was out searching obviously but it never even occurred to her that annabeth would want to hear anything other than 'I found him'. in fairness she forgets she's a real person half the time so it's pretty hard for her to figure out people care about her.

ugh okay annabeth takes her to go visit with sally- and tiggy HAS met her before but sally was under the impression she was just another random half blood. but she says something that leads to the percy's her father thing coming out and sally and paul are FREAKING out and tiggy's like oh okay sorry I actually have to run far far away right now<3 and peaces out of there leaving annabeth to try and calm them down lol

she actually DOES find percy when he's on the quest with hazel and frank- but it's before his memories come back. he's got no idea who she is but is very sorry about it. he knows the look in her eyes hurts him. she hugs him and tells him she's really glad he's okay but ultimately lets them continue on their quest without putting up a fight.

they don't see each other again until after gaea's defeated. she's like in cabin 3 packing a bag trying to dip immediately after the battles over and percy practically kicks the door in like 'that is NOT allowed to be our first hug I need a REDO so I can appreciate it properly!!!!!!!' and ofc that's got them crying a bit

it slowly but surely gets easier for them to be around each other. it hurts a little less every time.

there's a little scene in my head where after successfully avoiding sally for months she gets talked into a family dinner but she's upset about looking bad and percy and annabeth spend like all afternoon doing her hair for her lol

with both wars done she starts slowly but surely coming to terms with like. existing. she starts figuring out things she likes and dislikes. learning more and more. developing a personality. it's very overwhelming tho.

tbh I kinda want her involved in toa too, like maybe a situation where apollo needed to be attached to two mortals instead of one and he accidentally got tiggy instead of percy. he's got so much trauma and personality and they both struggle with the concept of being humans so I think they could be a fun match up but idk.

this is all I'm typing rn. idk why my brain dreamed her up and then got obsessed with her. goodnight.

btw I had a WEIRD dream last night that was like. daughter of poseidon insert in the first pjo series but there was a plot twist that she was actually percy's daughter that kronos created from his blood?(give my dream brain a break, it's greek mythology after all) and then aged up using his time powers and she was like fully being used by the titans. 1) don't know what could have possibly sparked that and 2) That Is So Fucked Up?

[rhea-is-bored-again]

you should write one with dallas and reader is being bullied for wearing masculine clothing or smth and dallas sticks up for her or 😔😔😔 idk anytbing im just sad

IDK im getting bullied at school by men atm💔💔💔💔 need dallas to comfort me thru the screen thjs can be either platonic or romantic

literally being picked on for wearing “boy pants” BOY GEY THE HELLOUTTA HERE LEAVE EMALONE THEYRE JSUT PANTS

GET OUTTTT they bitches fr 😔 just jealous you have better pants than their crusty ass basketball shorts.

boy pants?

dallas had to pick you up to to to the drive in with him. but you you had no idea what to wear now.

you searched through your closet, finally finding the little skirt that you'd hidden.

it was red and checkered and tiny, it made you cringe.

but you slipped it on nonetheless, absolutely done with the comments made from the snobby boys at school.

"you gonna cut your hair too?"

"i didn't know we had cross-dressers."

"that your brother's? too lazy to put on a skirt, are you?"

it was getting too much. so with the last bit of dignity you had, you pulled the skirt on.

sure, your legs felt free. but it was uncomfortable, it felt like you were in someone else's skin.

so when the doorbell rang and you saw your boyfriend leaning against the frame with a cig, you swallowed, hoping he wouldn't say anything.

his eyes trailed down your now exposed legs, then up to your pink top, before frowning.

"the hell are you wearing?" he muttered with a grin.

you sighed through your nose and shook your head. "don't ask."

"lose a bet or something?"

"no. i don't dress girly enough."

his scowl deepened as he mashed the filter of his cigarette with his boot.

"stop with that shit. who told you that? huh?"

"couple a' boys from my school."

his eyes narrowed as he ushered you back inside.

"go get changed."

and with that, he left, leaving you stomping up the stairs with frustration. why'd he leave? he could've come inside and stayed.

--

meanwhile, dallas was loitering around, before turning a corner and spotting a bunch of socs, passing around a hennessy and shouting.

"hey you saw the cross-dresser today at school? i think i actually saw her skin when she stretched."

"hey man, i bet she's got a killer body under all those clothes."

"she's basically a guy at this point!"

it made dallas' blood boil. he locked eyes with one of them and began to make his way over.

"fuck you say?"

and with that, he swung at him.

--

you got over yourself enough to pull on your favorite pair of baggy jeans and a larger shirt, feeling more at home in that clothing.

there was a sharp knock at your door, and you grumbled to open it, seeing dally.

his lip was busted and bleeding down his skin, but he was grinning like the devil.

"problem solved"

"whAT?" you shriek, yanking him inside by the collar. he got himself situated onto a kitchen stool, looking smugly proud of himself.

"i said problem solved. them boys won't bother you no more, dolly."

you felt your face warm up, but not enough to cover up the fact that you were mad.

"i told you it wasn't that big of a deal! why you goin' in my business?"

he pulled you between his legs and pressed a kiss to your tummy.

"yeah but... i didn't like how they was talkin' about you."

you sigh and try to shove him off, using a damp towel to wipe at the blood as you scurried off to go get some peroxide.

when you came back, you heard him mumble "i like you like this anyway. 'cause you're comfy."

that really made you smile.

taglist: @agepl0yer

a/n: sooo sorry this was rushed. annonie DAB ON THE HATERS OK? THAT'S MY PHILOSOPHY. let them talk your pants are cooler anyway

[jovialwerewolfarcade]

Cw: sex. Female person and parts. Male person and parts. Let me know if there is anything else that I should have put a warning for.

Simon had been a bit mean to you all day. Winding you up and then leaving as though nothing had happened. Getting you all flush with want and need with his words. He had been doing this all day, practically since the sun came up. So by the time dinner had rolled around you had devised a plan. A plan that would probably get you in trouble with Simon after it was all said and done but oh well.

You were now in the bedroom, laid out on your back with your legs open and a towel under your hips and ass. You had over the years collected a small assortment of toys. Toys that were now laid out at your hips and sides for easier reach. Taking the edge off of what had been a loonngg day. Currently your favorite dildo is stuffed in your dripping pussy while you teased your clit with your favorite vibrator. Soft sighs and moans left your parted lips the longer you masterbaited.

You finally here the bedroom door open right as you're reaching the peak of pleasure. You turn your head and look at Simon, a small wicked smile playing on your lips as you suddenly get a new idea.

(Skipping stuffs here..)

Simon has a condom on and his dick is now in your still dripping pussy. He already feels weird about the condom, he doesn't usually wear one when you two have sex.

You keep your favorite vibrator pressed to your clit.. and Simon? He was not allowed to move. No thrusting, no pushing further in to you, nothing. He had to be completely still while your pretty pussy fluttered around his cock.

This is my first actual attempt at writing sex/smut. Please let me know in the comments what you guys think!

[baskinbucky]

lights, camera, and love on air! [2]

blurb: you and bob are star-partners in high-school, especially within the school publication of where you both first met. students often confuse you two between lovers or simply emotionally constipated idiots. that one coming summer of the outgoing Editorial Board members for the school publication held a one-last roundtable discussion, all eyes turn to you and bob for one last spiel.

a/n: it took me a few days to write this because of my hectic schedule (finals week), nonetheless, here’s second part! :D

warnings: not much, clingy bob! :D simply fluff, just a tinge of angst in the latter parts, and maybe subtle pinings. includes campus journalism sequences, press conference jargons!

pt. i

note: this bob is a reimagination of his life in high school.

two weeks had passed since you both agreed on being the special anchors for the broadcast, yet here you are, still pondering about what made you agree to it in the first place. You are currently out with Bob on trying out coats and plain long sleeves to wear as his top, when you both know how you both would end up wearing your usual jeans and crocs as your bottoms.

you contested on the idea that you both wear full-on news anchor attires when they'd only film you half body, considering the table you both would be sharing, so, what's the point of having to pay an extra buck for your bottoms that won't be seen by the entire campus anyway?

Both of you had been in the mall for hours now in search of the top that he'd been trying to fit for himself but the attempts were not much but failure. You heard your stomach grumble in hunger and turned to Bob who only wears a wide smile on his face, his hand also playfully caressing his stomach.

"Do you think they’ll let us take quick coverage of this news? The spiel might feel empty without having to broadcast updates about the town sicko." You mentioned softly as you took a sip of your shared milkshake with Bob, his attention solely focused on the greasy burger that he boyishly devours, taking one bite after another until his mouth is stuffed with it, but either way, you found it adorable. You took the napkin that came with your food and gently wiped the corner of his lips where the stain of ketchup and cheese left its mark. Bob could only mumble his appreciations and motions you to take a bite off of it too.

If there is anything that you cannot do by pride, it is denying him of anything at all. Bob's antics such as this is something that you consider both a blessing and curse. For it to be one, Bob is going to share you his food maybe because he knows you want it too but ran you ran short, and the next thing you consider a curse is when he looks all innocent and happily eating, next thing you know he makes you finish all of it unknowingly by making you takes bites or feeding you himself.

and for this particular scenario you both are in? This is a curse, because Bob had bought two large fucking burgers and was only able to finish the second half because he still has his salad to munch on, so much for a man with an actual manly appetite.

"Oh yeah, definitely, but I do believe we already have a coverage lined up for us, so we don't have to prepare much of a script other than how we are going to present it." He pauses, taking yet another bite of his burger before motioning you to take another.

"Besides that, remember the guy we used to make fun of because he thought the teleprompter was karaoke and sang live? He's now our Executive Producer." He says with a snort then came a laugh, it was more of 'hey-we-are-so-fucked-but-its-not-going-to-be-our-fault' kind.

"Oh, the one that got us out of the press rally? I'd rather go impromptu than have to crashout mid-coverage." You both burst out laughing, passerbys looking at the two of you like teenagers on high. In those moments where you both were laughing and clinging onto each other like both of your lives depended on it, is something that you both secretly enjoy, yet still not tell each other. 

No one could clearly distinguish whether the two of you are simply close friends or you both are dating, and everytime that  you both are asked, neither of you confirm nor deny anything, yet somehow, deep in your heart, you wish there is something. 

And you could only hope that he feels the same way too. 

“We should probably go back, our break ends at twenty anyway.” Bob simply nodded and rose from his seat, extending his hand out for you to take before you moved out of yours. He did not say a word, but rather, you noticed how he looked at you–that exact gaze will soon keep you up at night, thinking of the why’s and what’s that might have gotten inside his head. 

Something in the air shifted, and you definitely have no clue about what it is, but noticing how he smiles at his phone, having yet another no clue on what and who that might be that made him smile like that? You felt something that you couldn’t explain, maybe that twisting feeling in your stomach that you can’t describe because it was only there when something triggered it? You don’t know much, but there’s one thing that you wanted and that is wishful thinking that it was you instead, and not someone who simply makes him smile with a text. When you both were walking back towards the studio, which was not that far from the mall you both went, you’ve let go of his hand and walked away quick towards the door, before he could even react, you immediately took your phone and pressed it onto your ear, making it seem like you were talking to someone when in reality, you just wanted to get some air away from him and your thoughts that clouded over a simple gesture. 

Bob. a text. him smiling. 

“What the fuck is happening? It could be a video sent to him, or a funny text message.” you mumbled to yourself as you rushed towards the ladies room, your hands in your face as you heard him call out for you. You immediately locked the door and sat down, your back leaning against the door frame. 

“Why am I feeling like this? It’s not that I don’t like him–maybe I do, but that’s not the point!” 

“Y/N, please open the door. Are you okay?”

You could only curse in your mind after hearing him say softly on the other side of the door, knocking gently while you also hear other people in the background, maybe it was Jayle trying to figure out why you suddenly felt the need to lock yourself up. 

“Bob, please go get changed, we’ll start shooting the intro in a few.” You heard someone say softly, as if it were coaxing Bob out of the situation, reassuring at best. 

“I’ll just go get changed, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.” 

As soon as Bob left, you slowly opened the door and revealed Jayle, a soft smile crept on her lips knowingly as if she knew what had happened. You stepped aside and let her enter, slowly closing the door behind her gently, hopping on to the marble of the bathroom vanity and holding your face in your hands once again. 

“I told you, you should’ve told him already.” She says, her hands crossed and her expression teasing, given the way of how she smiles, what registered in your head was her ‘i-told-you-so’ moment. 

You could only laugh and watch her like her advice is something you hadn’t been trying to do since she knew about it the first time she caught you. 

“I’ve been trying since then, okay? It’s just that something always happens everytime I try to tell him.” 

You simply protested, settling yourself down at the vanity and leaned your back against it instead, your fingers threading through your thick patch of hair, combing it back. In your defense, no matter how many attempts you’ve done to tell him how you feel, you always end up choking on yourself and there is always an attempt to switch the topic to something else especially when he’s really intrigued and does that thing with his eyes that makes you feel immensely shy. 

You’ve acquired the art of not giving two fucks, but with him? You kind of just melt like ice cream under a hot day and it happens every so often every time you try and confess how you feel–partly because there’s a voice in your head that tells you that he’s going to reject you and breakaway your friendship, and there’s a lingering part in you that yearns to let him know how you feel. 

Your heart does its thing where it tugs its strings and just bring you to a fleeting feeling of genuine happiness whenever you are around him, but thinking about how there could be a chance that someone had confessed to him and you were already too late somehow creates that ache in your heart that made you ask yourself the why’s and how’s of the world. 

If there’s one thing you had learned in your Philosophy class, that there would be a type of love that one is bound to experience in a span of one lifetime–which is preferential. One might love platonically and/or romantically, for Kierkegaard, a preference in the context of love, is someone you love based on personal preference or attraction–can be posited in the notion of having to love someone whom we naturally feel connected with or attracted to, grounded mostly on the emotional and person reaction of people towards specific persons. 

There comes a long pause before you’ve come to terms with what Jayle had said, pondering upon the reasons why you chose not to tell him everything yet. Yet again, you felt that thing at the pit of your stomach at the thought of his reaction to your confession, the what ifs crossing your mind for another trail. You placed your hand at the cool metal knob, heaving a sigh before exiting the bathroom where you and Jayle had the talk, again. 

“I’ll try to find the right time to tell him about it, and we’ll see where it goes from there on.” You mumbled, Jayle had only nodded her head in response. 

Once the both of you had reached the changing room, she handed you the white sleeve and a blazer to put on, you also sat on the vanity and had prepped yourself with a more natural looking makeup, and styled your hair simple with a blow dry and a bit of hair mousse to keep the curls intact. 

Jayle helped you set up with your earpieces and kept the small box behind your blouse, keeping the wires connected and the small microphone clipped on the side of your blazer. It’s been awhile since you went back to the media room, the lights blinding and the ambiance hot enough to make you sweat profusely. The large table sat in the middle with the commissioned background that reflects that the newsroom is evidently at its year old–considering this was the first major purchase of the school publication as a reward to winning the annual press conference competitions held interstate. 

“We are going live in two! Where is Robert?”

You heard the Executive Producer shout through the small room where all cameras and crew are intently focused on their spot, some of them are looking for Bob, some of them are in deep conversation with the upcoming pre-recorded spiel, and some of them are busy fixing the lights and audio in the media room. It was pure chaos, and this chaos is your bliss. 

“Fuck, sorry. I had to change my sleeves because they don’t fit me at all,” Bob says as he immediately ran towards the table and occupied the seat next to you. His hair was evidently blow dried and there’s something about how his face is evidently powdered but not that it caked his skin that it is evident. You noticed how his hands were shaking as he tried to keep the tie in place but failed at every attempt.

His nose scrunched up in frustration as you can also hear him breathe low profanities with his chest, as if putting a tie on is one of the worst things he had done in life. 

“How long have we got left?” You called upon them and stood up from your seat, immediately making the latter turn his chair and face you. You heard someone from the crew shout how you have half a second left before it airs, simply nodding your head and quickly tying the necktie that he had been struggling with. 

Bob mouthed his thank you’s and turned his chair to face the cameras once again, his hands do not tremble anymore as if he wasn’t on the brink of a nervous breakdown. As soon as you settled in your seat, the cameras started rolling and your earpiece began to crackle with a sound coming from the control room. 

“Robert, greeting now in cue, 3..2..1.. Go!”

The cameras immediately pan to Bob’s side, his posture calm and professional, his hands steady on a few stack of flash cards with the publication name plastered behind.

“Good morning, and welcome to Crimson Peak Echo. I’m Bob.” 

“Pan the camera to Y/N–,”

“And I’m Y/N. We are live here in the Crimson Peak High School today, (cue date). Our top story today focuses on the recent events involving the Attack on New York. We will also be bringing you updates on the recent alien attack that banished half the population, and later on, bringing you updates on the current forecast.” 

The spiel went on for about an hour and a half when the producer decided to take the fitting cut to end the broadcast, signaling Bob to take the cue on closing the spiel. You kept your eyes focused in front, listening to Bob as he read on the teleprompter right in front of him where the camera is focusing on him as well. He is a professional, yet he enjoys being a crew member, all because he said that he’s comfortable behind the scenes with you. 

“...stay informed, stay safe. This has been Bob Reynolds,” 

“And this has been Y/N Y/L/N for Crimson Peak Echo, delivering the latest news for the people. Thank you so much for watching! We’ll see you at the same time tomorrow.” 

The moment you hear the Executive Producer yell cut, the broadcast was off and the lights were dimmed and everyone was cheering, hugging one another and clapping for a successful special coverage. You could only muster a soft smile and open two buttons down of your blouse because of the heat, and Bob next to you has his cheeks and the pinna of his ears flushed. 

“Congratulations to the both of you! This is a successful coverage! We knew you got the chemistry! Our rates just spiked in real time!” 

Jayle went up the podium and hugged both you and Bob, who seemingly looked stiff albeit looking professional and confident earlier. There was something bothering him, and you can’t seem to pinpoint which.

You finally stood up from your seat, taking the blazer off and handing it over to the people incharge of your wardrobe, Bob following you around as if he was treading quietly over twigs and soil, careful enough not to startle you and make you walk away from him faster. 

“Did I do something to upset you earlier?” Bob asks, leaning his body against the door frame with his arms crossed, still wearing the same clothes he wore for the coverage. Despite desperate attempts to not glance at his clothes hugging his figure, you can’t help but wonder how come it managed to not pop right off then and there? 

“No, I just had to answer a phone call–” 

“That phone call upset you so much that you can’t even look at me right now?” Bob says, slowly walking towards where you sat, crouching down and spinning the vanity chair around for  you to face him.  You immediately took yet another cotton pad and lathered toner, wiping away the make-up on your eyes–an attempt to not even look at him even more or else you’d combust into god knows what. 

“Bob, I promise, I’m fine.” You frankly told him, placing down the cotton pads, and gently holding his hand, the pad of your thumb gently grazing over his skin–it was warm, manly yet soft to touch. 

“Are you sure? You seem so distressed earlier I was so worried that I might have done something or–” 

You cut him off by eliciting soft giggles and your free hand cupping his cheek, your finger gently tracing the line of his cheekbone before gently prying away the small hairs that fall in front of his eyes. You can’t admit it to him verbally, but in your head, all you could ever think about was how beautiful looked and how his eyes are just so pretty you’d wish to swim in them. 

“I’m okay, I promise. Aren’t you okay with how I feel okay right now? I’m better than I was, okay? Nothing to worry about anymore, if there is something you should be worried about, it’s the popcorn at home that nears its expiration.” You say, a soft chuckle soon escapes your lips as you watch how Bob’s facial expression shifts to being worried about you and there’s that crinkle in his eyes once again that shows up everytime he smiles. 

“Okay, I'll change and be back in a jiffy. Wait for me here this time, alright?” Bob says as he stood up from his posture, carefully stretching his legs while making facial expressions that made you both laugh. 

“Are you sure that they’re not dating? They look like they just resolved the tension earlier?” A crew member asked Jayle as she watched you and Bob poke fun in the vanity. Her lips stretched out a knowing smile towards the crew member she spotted with. 

“No, but soon enough they’ll figure it out.”  

Jayle and the crew member had left silently, ensuring that they did not tick you both off as you and Bob had made a world only you and him could understand. 

And maybe through wishful thinking, this little world that you and Bob share so often does not burst its bubble just yet.

#.

well this took me a few days to write lol. got preoccupied with uni and all, finals week is HELL on earth. anyway, i hope you like this! <3

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

short little drabble based off the corset post because that idea still has my brain in a chokehold. polycombat below the cut

-

It's… It isn't the worst. It's definitely not the worst.

More comfortable than he expected it to be, even with as tight as he has it laced. Mostly black, which is a godsend.

But the glittery gold trim seems so fucking gaudy and… attention seeking. It makes his waist look tiny; not that he's massive without it, but his jacket does a far better job of hiding it than this. And the way it accentuates his chest is just… Maker, kill him now.

Corsets, are bullshit.

"Remind me why I'm stuck wearing this shit again?" he yells to the other side of the bathroom door. The side profile is actually worse somehow. It's muscle. He knows it's muscle. He's packed on a metric ton of the shit over the last several years, but that doesn't make the tight slacks or the juxtaposition of his rear with his midsection any less ridiculous. Somewhere in the back of his mind, 'Baby Got Back' is playing loud and clear. Fuck.

"Because the joint hires pretty boytoys and you're the only one who fits the bill!" Sanford yells back, a snicker from someone else following.

God, fuck, this is stupid.

Reluctantly and with 'bullshit' on his tongue, he steps out of the bathroom where the other three have been waiting for the better part of an hour. No one says anything, which means they're looking, which means they're seeing, and thinking. Deimos crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the closed door with a scowl.

"None of that, come here," Doc says, beckoning him forward and then circling around him, looking the outfit up and down. He fixes the dress shirt collar, then tugs at the corset itself. "Hank, adjust this for me. It needs to be tighter."

"Aw, c'mon!" Deimos protests as Hank moves behind him, heat rushing to his face as the laces are untied and then pulled hard, the corset now tight enough that breathing is just short of easy.

"You have to look the part, Deimos. You'd be fired on the spot if we left it as is," Doc tells him, and it sounds like bullshit but Deimos doesn't know enough about bougie rich asshole culture to argue.

Sanford is staring at him with something akin to a smirk and it has a low growl rumbling in his chest even as Hank's hands linger at his hips.

"What, a guy can't appreciate his buddy cleaning up nice?" Sanford teases as he stands, sauntering over to rest his hands just above Hank's.

"Har-dee-fucking-har, man. I'd sock you if I didn't think it'd rip this thing."

"You're being a baby. It looks good." Sanford's laugh is good-natured and his hands are warm, and it's the only thing protecting him at the moment.

"One second," Doc interjects, cupping Deimos's face and tilting it towards himself so he can rub gold powder into his cheeks with his thumbs.

It feels nice but he's certain it looks ridiculous, but his growl tapers off into a purr all the same.

"There's a good boy, now you look the part."

"Real pretty, ain't he, Hank?" Sanford says, leaning in to ghost lips over the side of Deimos's neck as Hank hums his agreement, hands sliding up to sit at his chest.

The corset suddenly feels smothering. So does the rest of the outfit, but that's besides the point. Deimos tips his head back to welcome the slow kisses that are dotted from the corner of his jaw down to his barely-exposed collarbone, leaning back into Hank as his eyes flutter shut. The outfit just might be worth it. Deimos is about ready to back out of the mission entirely and stay home when Sanford's hands drift down to his ass, Deimos startling with a yelp when those hands grope him hard. And then Doc is shooing Sanford and Hank away before readjusting the shirt collar again.

"After the mission," Doc tells them sternly, effectively pulling Deimos's mind back out of the gutter. "Christ, you're acting like you've never seen him dressed up before."

"Yeah, what he said," Deimos mocks, going to rub at his red face but Doc grabs his wrists to stop him.

"You'll smudge the makeup."

"My bad."

"You gotta make him dress up more often, Doc. He even shaved for once."

"Soft…"

Deimos swats at Hank's hand reaching for his face. "Yeah, yeah, go load the fucking car, why don't ya? Couple'a fuckin' animals."

Sanford makes a talking gesture at him with his hand and rolls his eyes, following Hank out towards the garage. "Whatever you say, fun-size."

He can't help but huff over the nickname, and as soon as the other two men are out of sight, it's Doc's turn to invade his space.

"You do look awfully nice," Doc says, running a finger down one of the pieces of gold trim at the center of his chest, Deimos swallowing hard. "Come back in one piece?"

"Uhuh…" is all that comes to mind, and then even that is gone when Doc leans down to kiss him gently, all the heat from earlier rushing back to his cheeks.

"I expect the corset to still be on when you get back, understood?" he says next, voice much deeper, dangerous, sending a shiver down his spine.

Deimos can only nod, mouth gone dry.

Doc lets him stew in it for a few more moments, and then he straightens up like nothing just happened. "Good boy. Go make me proud," he says, smacking Deimos's ass as he walks past.

"Uhuhyupwilldogottago—" Deimos stammers out, rushing out the door.

This mission can't be over fast enough.

[mothyspace]

Death's Pet (yandere oc x reader)

Being the prized possession of a god of death. (❁´◡`❁)

[//warnings:// violence, captivity, mind break kind of implied]

A Grim Reaper, a shinigami, Death, they have many names. As you've also learned, there are many of them. This one has trapped your sad pitiful soul like a mouse.

*splat!* You flinched as more gore spilled out from the mangled corpse. It wasn't anywhere near you. But just watching it was too much... You wanted to turn your head but his large clawed hand held you still. His talons were tangled in your hair, almost painfully. Almost. He would never truly hurt you. So he says...

He laughs, the sound low and rumbling and too sudden that it makes you jolt in surprise. He only laughs more and leans down to speak directly in your ear. His breath is cold as always.

"It's been years and you're still afraid of these things? I thought this was my best work yet." He sits back, pulling you with him to settle you further on his lap. One hand is at the base of your neck, the other at your waist. By now you've grown accustomed to your place here with him. Being held like a precious doll. But these visions he shows you... of people dying. It's something you will never get used to.

He's the god of death- or rather one of them. His domain is over what you used to call "freak" accidents. Now you know they're no accidents, he orchestrates them all.

You stare blankly at the vision as he laughs like it's some kind of game. To him it is, you suppose. A woman holds her husband- what's left of him and sobs. You can't hold it back anymore and you retch.  He lets go of you and lets you curl up on his lap and tremble to your hearts content. "Still so delicate and pitiful, aren't you?" he laughs, softer this time, and gently strokes your back. He soothes you from the brink of another panic attack, "Give it another hundred years and this stuff will be as mundane as bugs to you."

"Please... I don't want to watch this right now..." you stare up at him with teary eyes and beg, hoping it's one of the few times he's in a good mood.

He leans closer, the dark void of his hood gives no emotions. It's always unnerving. Another thing you don't think you will ever get used to...

Slowly he brings a gloved hand up to wipe away a tear. You wonder briefly how such a monster could also be so delicate. and why, why so gently with y-

"On second thought..." his voice is a low whisper it fills your head and interrupts your frantic thoughts, "Maybe you shouldn't..."  

He hugs you tightly to his chest, burying his cold face into the crook of your neck. You feel his whole body shuddering... 

"Because... You're just so cute when you're frightened."

This an oc i've had cooking in the oven for a bit! He's a grim reaper, god of death type of guy. I'm thinking he might actually be part of a group? and they're people who no longer have human faces so they wear masks or hoods to hide the void of where their faces SHOULD be!! I have a few more ideas for characters in this group~! a few more yanderes too and one (1) wholesome boy. Maybe.

Also a few ladies bc,,,, i like wamen 🥺

YES THEYRE ALL EDRITCH FREAKS TOO!!! EXPECT TENTACLES FROM SOME !!!! not this guy tho--

ANYWAYS, as you can tell it's going to be a little messed up setting. You're his pet and there's p much no escaping that 💕 But it's not so bad maybe? He's…. well he doesn't hurt his darling. He's not someone who would assault his darling either! HE'S LIKE SECRETLY DOWN BAD but just doesnt kno how to be normal lmao? loser ???

I'LL THINK OF A NAME FOR HIM SOMETIME… LATER ? His appearance im thinking is like, classic hooded figure but also with fancy clothes like this:

also um,,,,, ( ^////^) this is my first fiction in like a million years,,, hope you enjoy it 💌💕

-Mothy

[elodieunderglass]

I haven’t watched Dungeon Meshi, but I always enjoy the dashboard osmosis experience and have a peculiar visual memory. Here is what I believe Dungeon Meshi to be mostly about. No complicating experiences with the text, or indeed character references, fed into this extremely clear vision, which I believe I torrented directly from the astral plane at the same time as the creator was logged on

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

not enough discussion about the gavins' complicated relationship with feminine-coded/beauty products, i don't think.